Author: Momo Chan

On the eve of signing our marriage contract, I discovered my fiancé was hiding a girl. That day, I slammed the mafia marriage contract on the table and gave him two choices. Either tear up the contract, or send her to the asylum. Matteo Rossi smoked all night at the firing range, but ultimately picked up the pen and signed. Later at the wedding, a girl with scarred wrists suddenly rushed to the altar. “Matteo, my brother died for you, won’t you even give me this last bit of love?” The bouquet handed to me fell to the ground, and he only left me with a hurried back. I tore off my corsage and held down the Don’s hand. “If you walk out that door today, our marriage contract is void.” His footsteps paused, but he still left. … The wedding music stopped, and the guests’ whispers pierced my ears like needles. I froze at the altar, staring at the empty doorway. My parents walked up and draped a coat over my shoulders. “Elena, let’s go home.” I nodded and followed them down the aisle. Passing the Rossi family’s table, I stopped. The Donna grabbed my hand, her eyes red: “Elena, Matteo didn’t mean it, don’t blame him.” I pulled my hand away and bowed to them. “I am sorry.” After speaking, I didn’t linger and left the cathedral with my parents. That night, Matteo didn’t come back. The next day, neither. On the third night, he returned reeking of alcohol. He stood at the door, looking at me sitting on the sofa: “Why haven’t you slept?” I didn’t answer and pointed to a document on the table. “Read it.” He walked over and picked up the document. It was Sofia Conti’s involuntary commitment order. Because she self-harmed at the wedding and violated the Family’s code, she was sent to the mob sanitarium. “You did this?” he asked coldly. “It’s the rules,” I said flatly. He crumpled the document and smashed it to the floor: “Elena, she is just a patient, her brother died to save me, I owe her!” “What you owe her shouldn’t be paid by me.” “Can’t you be a little considerate of me?” I looked at him, suddenly feeling he was a stranger. We had known each other for ten years, and he had never spoken to me in this tone. I stood up and walked back to the bedroom. “Matteo, let’s separate for a while.” I closed the door, listening to him smashing things outside. Lying in bed, I was sleepless all night.

When I woke up the next day, Matteo was already gone. A note was left on the table. [I went to take care of Sofia.] I threw the note into the trash and went to the underground trauma center. I was the youngest neurosurgery director in the Family’s medical network. Today there was a highly difficult surgery. I stood for thirteen hours. Finally walking out of the operating room, I was almost too exhausted to stand. A colleague handed me a bottle of water: “Dr. Vargas, you broke the record again.” I smiled and said nothing. Returning to the office, I saw a thermos on the desk. It was delivered by Matteo. I opened it, and inside was my favorite squab soup. The soup was still warm. I put the lid back on and pushed it aside. My phone rang; it was a call from Matteo. I didn’t answer. He sent another message: “Did you drink the soup? Made it just for you.” I replied with one word. “Yes.” He replied quickly. “I’m sorry, I was impulsive yesterday.” “Elena, after all our years together, let’s not fall apart over this small matter.” I stared at that message and didn’t reply for a long time. At night, I returned to the Manhattan penthouse we prepared as our marital home. Someone was standing at the door. It was Sofia Conti. She was wearing a hospital gown, pale-faced, and looked at me timidly: “Dr. Vargas.” “Why are you here?” I asked. “Matteo brought me out.” She lowered her head: “He said the sanitarium is too depressing.” I took out my keys to open the door: “Do you need something?” “I… Can I come in and sit down?” “No.” I refused directly. She bit her lip and tears fell: “Dr. Vargas, I know you don’t like me, but I really have nowhere else to go.” “Matteo said he would take care of me, just like my brother took care of him.” “I just want… to have a home.” I looked at her, only finding it ridiculous: “Your home shouldn’t be my home.” I pushed the door open to go in, preparing to close it. She suddenly stuck her foot in the doorway and tumbled inside. Her forehead hit the doorframe and immediately turned red. “Ah!” she cried out in pain. Matteo rushed out from the elevator lobby. He shoved me aside and helped Sofia up. “Sofia, are you okay?” Sofia trembled in his arms, crying and shaking her head. Matteo looked up and glared at me: “Elena, do you have to be like this?” “Did I push her?” I asked. He didn’t speak, just held Sofia, his eyes full of disappointment. “She is my fallen friend’s sister, he died for me, she is homeless now, and her mental state is unstable.” “I just want her to stay here temporarily, is it that hard?” “This is our marital home.” I reminded him. “It’s just temporary!” he emphasized. I looked at him, unable to say a single word. He carried Sofia past me, walking into our home. Into our master bedroom.

Sofia moved into the master bedroom. Matteo didn’t leave that night; he also stayed in the master bedroom, claiming he was “afraid something might happen to her at night.” I locked myself in the guest room, listening to the low murmurs of comfort and sobbing from next door. The next day, I went to work as usual. Coming home after work, the house had changed. My favorite landscape painting in the living room was taken down and replaced with an oil painting. The orchids I grew for three years were gone, replaced by a pot of lucky bamboo. Sofia was wearing my nightgown, busy in the kitchen. Seeing me, she smiled somewhat embarrassedly. “Dr. Vargas, you’re back. I made dinner, I don’t know if it suits your taste.” I stared at the nightgown she was wearing. That was hand-sewn for me by my mother, and I had never even brought myself to wear it once. I walked over and pointed at the painting: “Who told you to touch that?” “It… it was Matteo.” She spoke timidly: “He said the landscape painting’s colors were too depressing, not good for my recovery.” “And the flowers?” “Also… also Matteo, he said orchids are too delicate, I wouldn’t know how to keep them alive.” I walked right up to her. “Take it off.” She froze: “What?” “Take off the nightgown you are wearing.” Her face instantly flushed red, tears welling in her eyes: “Dr. Vargas, I’m sorry, I just thought this dress was pretty… I didn’t mean anything else.” Matteo walked out of the bedroom. “Enough, Elena!” He walked to Sofia’s side and shielded her behind him. “It’s just a nightgown, is this really necessary?” “She likes it, just let her wear it. You have so many clothes, are you short of this one?” I looked at his self-righteous expression. The last bit of feeling I had for him in my heart was gone. “Matteo, make her leave.” “Impossible.” He answered categorically. “Fine, I’ll leave.” I turned and returned to my room, sorting out my treasured manuscripts and notes. I placed the manuscripts on the desk to start packing my luggage. Just as I turned around, Sofia walked in holding a glass of water. “Dr. Vargas, drink some water, don’t be angry anymore.” She handed the glass over. I didn’t take it. Her hand tilted, and the entire glass of water splashed over my notes. The water rapidly seeped into the paper. My brain buzzed loudly. I rushed over, grabbed the notebook, and desperately soaked up the water with tissues. But it was useless. The ink was already a blurred mess. I looked up at the panicked Sofia. She kept apologizing: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Dr. Vargas, I didn’t mean to…” Matteo also came in. Seeing the scene, he frowned, pulled Sofia over, and checked her hands. “Did you get burned?” Sofia shook her head, crying even harder: “Matteo, I ruined Dr. Vargas’s things…” Matteo glanced at the soaked notebook. “Isn’t it just a book? I’ll buy you a new one.” He said indifferently: “Sofia didn’t do it on purpose, stop holding a grudge over it.” Holding the ruined notebook, my hands were trembling. That was left to me by my mentor. It was the only copy in the world. I looked at Matteo: “You’ll replace it?” “How will you replace it?” He choked on my question, looking a bit embarrassed. “Elena, stop being unreasonable.” I laughed. I threw the notebook on the floor, turned around, pulled out my suitcase, and began packing. Matteo stood at the door, watching me: “What are you throwing a tantrum about now?” “I said, I’m leaving.” I didn’t look back. “You’re running away from home over this little thing?” “Elena, can’t you be a bit more mature?” I ignored him and continued packing. Sofia cried softly on the side: “It’s all my fault, Matteo, don’t fight with Dr. Vargas…” Matteo sighed, walking over to comfort her. “It has nothing to do with you, she is just too childish.” I zipped up my suitcase and stood up. Walking past Matteo, I didn’t spare him a single glance. Reaching the door, I stopped. “Matteo, this is what you chose.” With that said, I pulled my suitcase and left the place I once thought would be my home. That was my first time walking out on him. Three days later, Matteo found the hotel I was staying at. He brought my favorite desserts and a beautifully wrapped notebook. “Elena, stop being angry, come home with me.” “I had someone restore that book, look, it’s as good as new.” I opened the notebook. The handwriting inside was forged, and many of the data didn’t match. I handed the notebook back to him: “Matteo, just go.” The smile on his face froze: “Elena, how long are you going to keep making a scene?” “I already sent her away, what more do you want?” “Can’t you stop blowing things out of proportion?” I looked at him. “I never blow things out of proportion.” I closed the door. He stood outside the door for a long time, but eventually walked away.

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On the eve of our engagement party, my fiancé, Asher Sterling, and his female “best friend,” Harper Sloan, flashed a marriage license in the middle of a nightclub. Asher looked completely unbothered, waving his hand dismissively. “Relax, Elena. It’s just a prank. We’re going to annul it tomorrow morning. Everyone knows Harper and I are just buddies.” His tone was light, as if he were talking about the weather. But in Vegas, a marriage license is never just a piece of paper. The real trouble lies in the legal process required to revoke it, and Asher clearly had no intention of taking this seriously. Harper, looking like she was deliberately trying to provoke me, blinked her doe eyes. “Hey, don’t be such a buzzkill. You all witnessed us getting officially married. Aren’t you going to give us wedding gifts?” Sitting on the other side of the booth, Carter Brooks burst into laughter. He was Asher’s frat brother from college. “Sure thing. My real estate project in the Hamptons just got approved. I’ll put that up as a gift. But in Vegas, we play by Vegas rules—if you want this big gift, you have to win it from me at the table.” I didn’t speak. I just silently sat down on the velvet sofa and picked up a martini. Seeing Asher’s frowning face, I gently swirled my glass and flashed a perfect, polite smile. “Aren’t we rolling dice for wedding gifts? Count me in.” As I settled in, the noisy VIP booth fell into a momentary, deathly silence. Asher reached out, trying to wrap his arm around my waist, his tone filled with his usual superiority and dismissal. “Stop it, Elena. We’re just drunk and joking around. You should go back to the hotel and rest.” I shifted backward, dodging his touch, and swept a cold glance toward Harper. “Keep your hands to yourself, Asher. Legally speaking, Mrs. Sterling is sitting over there.” Asher’s face instantly darkened, and his voice turned impatient. “I’ve told you a million times, Harper is just my best friend. If I actually wanted to date her, do you think you would have had a chance these past few years?” I didn’t respond. I had heard this gaslighting script too many times. Because of Harper, he “forgot” our anniversary dinner. Because of Harper, he would dump me on the side of the road at 3 AM just to pick her up because she was drunk. And now, impulsively getting married in Las Vegas. All explanations converged into one classic excuse: We are just friends. The atmosphere grew stiff, so Harper leaned in. She sat directly on Asher’s lap. “Alright, don’t ruin the vibe.” She turned to me, smiling harmlessly. “Elena, there’s really nothing going on between me and Asher. We were just drunk and impulsive tonight. The lawyers will handle it first thing in the morning. If you’re upset, I’ll drink a few extra shots to apologize, okay?” Saying that, she grabbed a bottle of champagne from the table and chugged it. Asher’s expression changed. He immediately reached out to stop her, scolding loudly. “Are you crazy? Why are you drinking so fast!” When he turned back to look at me, his eyes were freezing cold. “Elena Vance, don’t go too far.” I couldn’t help but let out a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s fine. I’m not someone who can’t take a joke. Since everyone says I don’t understand you two, I’ll join you in being crazy tonight.”

The people in the booth were stunned for a moment, then immediately started smoothing things over. “That’s the spirit, Elena! We’ve wanted you to hang out with us for ages. It’s Asher’s fault for always hiding you away.” Carter winked at the couple. “Asher, get over there and take care of your girl.” Asher sneered, leaning back deep into the sofa. He pulled Harper back onto his lap, his large hand resting on her waist. “Don’t look at me. Tonight, she’s my legal wife.” Seeing that I maintained a faint smile and showed no signs of causing a scene, the group started to cheer. “Alright, alright! Happy wedding! How are we playing?” Harper had played with them for a long time. She laughed and explained. “Same as always. Dice game. But since Elena is here, and she probably doesn’t get the complex rules, let’s keep it simple—High or Low.” “The loser not only has to drink, but to celebrate my marriage to Asher, they have to add a bet to the pot.” The crowd got even more excited. “That’s not fair, is it? Everyone in our circle knows Harper and Asher are the best duo here. You two have husband-and-wife telepathy now; how are we supposed to win?” Asher’s hand stayed on Harper’s waist. He hadn’t looked at me for even half a second. He scoffed. “Then you can just fold now.” Carter, feeling competitive, took off the Patek Philippe Nautilus watch on his wrist. “I’ll start with a chip. Just won this watch at a Sotheby’s auction last week.” The electronic dance music in the club got louder, pumping adrenaline into everyone’s veins. Others started taking off expensive jewelry and luxury watches. Another socialite named Sienna threw down a Van Cleef & Arpels diamond bracelet. Asher didn’t say anything. He undid his custom Hermès cufflinks and tossed them on the table. My gaze froze for a second. Those were the engagement gifts I had given him. The back was engraved with our initials. Harper was still buzzing with excitement. She squeezed Asher’s hand and pouted. “Honey, I want that bracelet. Win it for me.” I said nothing. I took off the full-diamond studs from my ears and gently placed them on the table. “Happy wedding to you both. I’m in.”

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The wedding was ten days away. I pushed open the fitting room door. Cole Harrison was bent over Sadie Hayes, his fingers working the laces at the back of her wedding dress. The Vera Wang. The one I’d swiped my card for two days ago. Paid in full. The one I was supposed to wear walking down the aisle to him in ten days. The boutique consultant stood off to the side, her face locked in that standard-issue professional smile. She was telling Sadie her shoulders and neckline were absolutely flawless. That this gown looked like it had been made for her. Sadie had walked in with Cole. The staff had probably already decided they were the couple here for the final fitting. I stood in the fitting room doorway. Veil still on. My fingers curled inward, one inch at a time. The photographer I’d brought to capture behind-the-scenes moments had been filming my reveal. Now her phone hung frozen in the air. Like she didn’t know who to point it at anymore. Sadie spotted me through the mirror. Her reaction came a beat late. Her hands flew up to cover the sheer fabric draped across her chest. “Eleanor. Don’t misunderstand.” Her voice was pitched low. Soft. Practiced innocence. “I just thought the dress was so beautiful. I said I wanted to try it on, and Cole said—” “She’s never worn a wedding dress.” Cole straightened up. Finished her sentence. His tone was casual. Like he was explaining why he’d lent the spare key to the neighbors. “Just letting her try it on. It’s not a big deal.” I looked at him. A laugh almost broke through. Last night I’d been up until one in the morning on Zola, cross-checking the final guest list. I’d paid the balance on the gown the afternoon before last. This morning I was still picking fonts for the place cards. And now my fiancé was standing in front of my wedding gown. Fixing the laces for another woman. Tossing me a line about how it was no big deal. I didn’t speak. I walked toward them. The boutique went silent. The sales assistant who’d been holding my gloves took an instinctive step back. Cole glanced at me. Something in my expression must have finally registered. His voice dropped into that tone I knew too well. The one that told me not to make a scene. “She just got back from the West Coast. She’s not in a great place.” “It’s just trying on a dress. Don’t do this here.” I looked straight at him. “Do this? Since when did it become me doing something? The moment you put my wedding dress on her body—that’s when things got ugly.” His brow creased. Sadie bit her lip. Extracting herself. “Eleanor, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I just—” “You meant something.” I cut her off. “If you didn’t mean anything, you wouldn’t have known exactly whose dress this was. And you wouldn’t be standing here letting him fix your train.” The color drained from her face. Cole’s voice hardened. “Eleanor.” “Why are you going after her? She said she just wanted to try it on. Do you have to make this so ugly?” I looked at him. And then I understood. When a heart dies, it doesn’t hurt. It hollows out. So empty you can’t even find the energy to be angry. Not a stabbing pain. Just emptiness. A vast, quiet void. And in that silence, one thought echoed. Clear as a bell. It’s over. *** I reached up and pulled the veil from my hair. The tulle slipped through my fingers. Drifted down into the hands of the sales assistant standing beside me. Everyone froze. Cole’s face finally shifted. “Eleanor. What are you doing?” I ignored him. Looked down at my ring finger. Worked the diamond off. He’d slid that ring onto my hand last month. Said we’d upgrade to something better after the wedding. Turns out in his mind, everything was shareable. The dress. The wedding. Even the dignity of being his fiancée. All available for loan. Anything to comfort someone else. The ring was snug. I twisted it. A red mark bloomed around my knuckle. Cole stepped forward. Reached for me. “Don’t do this.” I sidestepped him. Dropped the ring into the velvet accessory tray. “She wants to try on the wedding dress? Let her marry you.” I lifted my eyes to his. One word at a time. “Find your own groom. Throw your own goddamn wedding. This one was mine.” The silence in the boutique was absolute. You could hear people breathing. The photographer’s phone was still up. The frame trembled slightly. Sadie’s face had gone nearly bloodless. Her voice started shaking. “Eleanor, please don’t be like this. I really wasn’t trying to—” “The problem isn’t whether you were trying to take him, Sadie.” I looked at her. “The problem is he’s already yours. All you have to do is reach for him. His loyalty to me was always rented.” Cole’s expression darkened. “Enough. The wedding is in ten days. You’re pulling this now? Have you thought about the consequences?” That sentence. It snuffed out the last flicker of hope I’d been holding. He knew. He knew exactly how far over the line this was. He’d just assumed I was too deep in—too much money spent, too much effort sunk, too many years invested—to flip the table. He was betting I couldn’t let go. Betting I’d swallow it like I always did. Tell myself to let it go. The wedding was almost here anyway. I nodded. A laugh escaped me. “I’ve thought about it.” “So as of now, the wedding is canceled.” Cole looked like he hadn’t heard me right. “What did you say?” “Canceled.” I turned to the boutique staff. My voice came out so steady it surprised even me. “Pull up the payment records for this gown. The alteration records. The appointment booking information. All of it.” The sales assistants exchanged a glance. Looked at Cole on reflex. I followed their gaze. “What’s the problem?” I asked. “I ordered this dress. I paid for it. Do I not have the right to see my own records?” That landed. The two women looked at each other and immediately went for the iPad and files. Sadie was wobbling now. She clutched the skirt and stepped back. “Cole, I should just take this off—” “Yes. Take it off.” I looked at her. “Now.” Her eyes went red. Like I’d just done something unspeakably cruel to her. I didn’t even have the energy to watch the performance this time. A few minutes later, the staff brought up the system records. Reservation name: Eleanor Vance. Deposit payer: Eleanor Vance. Balance payer: Eleanor Vance. Rush alteration fee payer: Eleanor Vance. I took the iPad. Flipped to the payment page. Held it up in front of Cole’s face. “You see this clearly? I ordered the dress. I paid for it. I scheduled the wedding. You took what was mine to play hero for your high school nostalgia crush. And you wanted me to be gracious about it. Is that right?” Cole’s lips moved. “Eleanor. That’s not what I meant.” “Whether you meant it or not doesn’t matter anymore.” I handed the iPad back to the assistant. Bent down and lifted the train of the gown off the floor. Just enough so I wouldn’t step on it. “As of now, this wedding is on hold.” “The cancellations, the accounting, the liability determinations—I’ll handle every single item. One by one.” “And as for you—” I looked at Sadie. At the wedding dress she still hadn’t managed to take off. My voice went cold. “You want the benefits of someone else’s fiancé? Fine. But don’t use my wedding as your runway.” I turned and walked out. Cole came after me. Grabbed my wrist. His voice was low and tight. “Was this really necessary?” I stopped. Looked back at him. “Cole. You weren’t asking me to calm down today. You were betting I wouldn’t flip the table.” His fingers went rigid. I pulled free. One finger at a time. “Too bad. You bet wrong.”

I walked out of the bridal boutique. The sun outside was blinding. The kind of bright that makes your eyes sting. Maya ran after me. Shoved my phone and bag into my arms. Her voice was still shaking. “Ellie. Are you really calling it off?” I looked down. Pulled the ring box out of my bag. The empty box felt impossibly light. “I’m calling it off. Seven years is enough. No need to throw in the rest of my life too.” I got in the car. Cranked the AC to max. Cold sweat still soaked through the back of my shirt. Maya sat in the passenger seat. She glanced back at me several times. Opened her mouth. Closed it. I knew what she was thinking. Was I being impulsive. The wedding was ten days away. Flipping the table now—the venue, the planner, the invitations, the banquet, the party favors. Every single piece needed to be unwound. And more than that: seven years. Not seven days. Not seven months. Seven years. From the time I was twenty-two. The ride-along years with Cole. From a fresh graduate who had nothing and was nothing. To now. In the beginning, I was the one who got him through the hardest stretches. He caught the flu. Fever spiked to a hundred and four. I was the one who drove him to the ER at two in the morning. When he was grinding through his career change, I was the one balancing my own projects while rewriting his résumé and running mock interviews with him. Later, his career stabilized. The money came. Everyone said my suffering had finally paid off. Only I knew. I wasn’t waiting for someone to hand me a result. I’d taken all those years and genuinely poured them into what I thought was our future together. So even later, when the name Sadie Hayes started flickering at the edges of our relationship, I kept telling myself not to overthink it. Two people who never got together in high school. A shadow left in someone’s heart. Didn’t mean anything real would come of it. On his birthday, a message popped up on his phone. The contact was just a letter. “S.” He said it was an old classmate saying hello. The day she flew back from California, he canceled dinner with my parents at the last minute. Said it was an urgent work thing. Later, I saw Sadie’s Instagram story from the airport pickup. The edge of the frame caught half a shirt cuff. His cuff. I held my phone and stared at it for a long time. I never asked. It wasn’t that I didn’t see. It was that I took every single one of his ambiguities and explained them into something acceptable. Until today. Until he stood in that boutique and fixed the laces on my wedding gown for Sadie Hayes. That was the moment I understood. Some relationships don’t rot overnight. You just kept refusing to admit they’d gone crooked a long time ago. Maya finally couldn’t hold it in. “You want to go home first?” “My place,” I said. “I need to sort out the numbers.” She blinked. “You’re going to do accounting right now?” “If I don’t do it now, you want to wait for him to strike first? Let him spin me as the hysterical bride who lost it right before the wedding?” I unlocked my phone. Pulled up the master wedding budget spreadsheet. I’d built this table with my own hands. The gown. The venue deposit. The planner’s down payment. The party favors. The décor for the new house. The custom rings. The invitation printing. The photographer. Every item was tagged by date and payment account. Clean. Clear. Years of project management had made me good at one thing: taking chaos and breaking it down into executable line items. I used to use that skill to build a life. Now I was going to use it to cut my losses. I highlighted every expense I’d fronted from my personal account in red. Exported the corresponding transfer records and signed contracts into PDFs. One by one. Wedding gown balance: forty-five hundred dollars. Rush alteration fee: six hundred. Venue banquet deposit: ten thousand. Planner down payment: three thousand. Party favors: fifteen hundred. New house décor balance: two thousand. The scattered numbers added up to a sum that went far beyond what any “don’t be like this” could smooth over. Maya stared at the figures and sucked in a breath. “You never squared any of this with him before?” “We talked about it,” I said. “He said let me front it. He’d pay me back when the quarterly bonus hit. Some of it, we just defaulted to me paying. I understood the process better. I could get payments out faster. We’d reconcile everything later.” I laughed at myself when I said it. Reconcile everything later. Turns out in his mind, I was suitable for marriage. Not just because I was stable. Sensible. Good at building a life. But because I could pay. I could cover the gaps. I could manage every headache into neat, tidy order. And all he had to do was show up when required. Keep being the respectable groom-to-be. He used to joke about my Excel sheets. Said they looked like I was executing a merger, not planning a wedding. But he was right. I was managing a project. Only now, it was time to strip this failed project out of my life. Completely.

My phone screen lit up. A text from Cole. “Just calm down first.” The second one came right after. “What happened today isn’t as serious as you think.” The third one was fast. “Sadie just got out of a relationship. She’s in a bad place. I was just looking out for her. Don’t blow this up.” I stared at the words “don’t blow this up.” My fingers went cold at the tips. Even now. He was still fixated on whether this was a big thing or a small thing. Not whether it was wrong. Maya leaned over. Read the screen. Her laugh was pure rage. “He actually has the nerve.” I didn’t reply. A second later, my phone buzzed again. Not a private message this time. Cole had posted in the bridesmaids and groomsmen group chat. The one we’d set up to coordinate wedding logistics. The group had Maya. His best man. A handful of close friends. Cole dropped a message. “Small misunderstanding at the fitting today. Eleanor got a little emotional. The wedding is still on. No need for anyone to overthink it.” I stared at that line for three full seconds. Maya said it flat out. “He’s seizing the narrative.” I made a sound of agreement. Not surprising. Cole’s greatest talent had always been dressing ugly situations up as presentable misunderstandings. He was never afraid of hurting me. He was afraid of other people knowing that ten days before the wedding, he’d used his fiancée’s gown to placate his high school first love. The replies started rolling in fast. “Pre-wedding jitters. Happens to everyone. Cole, just pamper her a little.” “Eleanor’s probably just stressed.” And then Cole’s best friend, Ben, dropped his line. “Bro, you’re at the finish line. Don’t flip the car now.” Almost at the same moment, my mom’s text appeared. “Ellie. Don’t be scared. Take care of yourself first. Dad and I are here.” I looked at the best man’s message. Then at my mom’s. Something hot pressed against the back of my eyes. Some people were afraid their friend might wreck his image. Some people were only afraid I might break. I could see it all now. Who cared about appearances. Who cared about me. I set my phone on my lap. Took a breath. “Maya.” “Yeah?” “The fitting room footage. You were recording, weren’t you?” Maya paused. Nodded. “I was trying to capture you walking out in the dress. Ended up filming Cole fixing Sadie’s laces. It’s not the full thing, but that moment’s in there.” “Send it to me.” She forwarded the raw video immediately. I opened it. The footage was shaky but clear enough. Cole stood behind Sadie. His fingers on the laces at the back of the gown. The movements practiced. Familiar. Agonizing. And the dress. The waistline. The crinoline. The train. Every detail was something I’d confirmed with my own eyes two days ago. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. This was a receipt. I took the boutique payment records screenshot. The wedding expense master sheet. The corresponding bank transfer records. Dragged them all into a single folder. Attached the video. Then I opened a new message in the group chat. Recipients: Bridesmaids, Groomsmen, and Wedding Planning Core Group. I wrote one line. “Cole says it was a misunderstanding. Let’s clear up the misunderstanding. Please see attachments.” Attachment one: Boutique payment records screenshot. Payer: Eleanor Vance. Attachment two: Master wedding expense breakdown. Personally fronted items highlighted in red. Attachment three: Today’s fitting room video. Attachment four: Screenshots of Cole’s three private messages from today. Send. Maya watched me set the phone down. It took her a moment to find her voice. “Ellie…” “He said it was a misunderstanding.” I looked out the window. “I’m just helping him clarify.” The moment the messages went through, the group chat went dead silent. But I knew. The real second half was just beginning.

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In the high society circles of Manhattan, every woman talked about how lucky Sarah Miller was. I married Julian Thorne and became the envied Mrs. Thorne. But only I knew how suffocating the reality behind the title actually was. Every day, I numbly watched him bring home woman after woman. He even fell in love with a “gold-medal housekeeper,” Chloe, and let her set strict rules for our home. She not only froze all my cards and threw away my designer clothes and bags, but she also stipulated that I only had a five-dollar daily allowance. And I wasn’t allowed out past eight o’clock. Even when the hospital sent a critical notice at 8:01 PM, Chloe still ordered the bodyguards to stop me at the door. I suppressed the panic burning inside me. “My mother is having a heart attack. I need to go to the hospital right now.” Chloe sat on the sofa, filing her nails. “Mrs. Thorne, rules are rules. You can’t go out after eight. No exceptions, even if your mother is dying.” Trembling with rage, I turned and rushed into the study to find Julian, begging him to let me leave. He glanced at me coldly. “As long as you are Mrs. Thorne, you must obey the rules Chloe set.” Looking at the man I had loved for ten years, I felt nothing but strangeness. If this is what it takes, then I don’t want to be Mrs. Thorne anymore. … The front door was blocked tight by two burly bodyguards in black. My legs went weak with anxiety. My hands shook as I dialed the ER. “Please, start the resuscitation on my mother first. I promise I’ll pay the fees later…” “But, Miss Miller…” Before I could hear the rest, my phone was slapped out of my hand by a manicured hand. “Rule number one of the Thorne household: No loud noises!” My phone hit the floor and shattered. The screen went black. I stared helplessly at the broken device, tears pattering onto the floorboards. “Who are you putting on this pathetic show for? Are you unhappy with my rules?” Chloe rolled her eyes, pouted, and picked up her handbag as if to leave. “Since your wife can’t tolerate me, I’ll just leave. I’m obviously not welcome here anyway.” “Don’t be like that.” Julian walked up from behind, pulling her into his arms and kissing her forehead. “Baby, who dares to disobey you here?” As soon as he finished speaking, he gripped my chin with one hand, forcing me to look up. His tone was icy. “Sarah, smile.” My heart was with my dying mother, but I didn’t dare anger him. I forced out a smile that was uglier than crying. “My mom is in critical condition. Julian, for the sake of all our years together, please let me go see her.” “She only got hurt in that car accident last year because she was saving you. You can’t just ignore her…” Julian’s eyes flickered slightly. A trace of guilt passed through them. He looked at Chloe in his arms and asked tentatively, “Baby, just this once?” “No!” Chloe struggled out of his grasp, crossing her arms and sitting on the sofa like a spoiled princess. “It’s just a heart attack. She’s not dead yet. What’s the fuss?” “When you brought me here, you promised that everything in this house would go my way!” “I don’t care. If you dare to indulge her, don’t expect to enter my room tonight!” “Okay, okay. I really can’t say no to you…” Julian shook his head helplessly, picked her up, and placed her on his lap, tapping her nose affectionately. Chloe giggled, looking at me with pure provocation. Bringing a mistress into the house and trampling on my dignity as the legal wife. This scene had played out countless times in the Thorne mansion. Seeing the sympathetic looks from the servants, a sense of despair rose from the soles of my feet. I clenched my fists and summoned all my courage. “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” As long as we divorced, I wouldn’t be Mrs. Thorne anymore. I could leave this hellhole.

The living room went instantly silent. Julian’s expression turned cold. A sneer curled his lips. “Sarah Miller, what did you say? Threatening me with divorce?” “When your chauffeur father knelt and begged the Thorne family to take care of you, you weren’t this tough.” His words felt like invisible hands choking me, stealing my breath. Memories played in my mind like an old movie. My father was the private driver for the Thorne family. Ten years ago, Julian’s father was attacked by a gunman. My father took the bullet for him. In the ICU, Mr. Thorne asked him what he wanted. With his dying breath, my father said, “Please, Mr. Thorne… take care of my daughter…” Back then, Julian and I were best friends. At the funeral, he hugged me while crying. “Sarah, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you forever. With me around, no one will dare to bully you.” Unfortunately, Julian had long forgotten his childhood promises. Now, the person hurting me was him. Watching the intimate couple in front of me, I choked back my tears. Seeing my silence, Julian reached out and patted my head, like petting a pet. “As long as I don’t sign the papers, you will always be my wife.” I knew that without his consent, no law firm in New York would dare take my case. Desperate, I tried to rush for the door. Slap! A crisp sound echoed. My face instantly swelled up. “I told you, my rules cannot be broken!” Chloe directed two bodyguards to intercept me. Looking at her smug face, I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged at her, grabbing her carefully styled hair. “If my mom misses her surgery, I won’t let you get away with it!” I strangled her neck, but Julian kicked me away. My head slammed into the corner of the marble coffee table. The sharp pain nearly knocked me out. “Throw the Madam in the wine cellar. Let her cool off.” Several men dragged me into the cold, damp underground cellar. No matter how much I banged on the heavy oak door, no one answered. I leaned against the door in despair, thinking of my mother’s haggard face in the hospital bed. Finally, the tears fell. Knock, knock, knock. The door was tapped gently. Through the small ventilation window, a rough hand pushed in some food. “Madam, please eat something.” It was Martha. She had watched me grow up and loved me like her own daughter. “Martha, please let me out. I need to go to the hospital…” “Madam, I don’t dare.” Martha’s voice was full of helplessness and trembling. She lifted her sleeve, revealing thin arms covered in crisscrossed scars—Chloe’s “discipline.” “…Thank you.” I didn’t want to make trouble for her. I slumped to the ground, looking at the dry sandwich and bottle of water. Since Chloe came to the Thorne house, she set my daily living allowance at five dollars. Discount sandwiches from the convenience store became my staple diet. Meanwhile, she pestered Julian to take her to three-star Michelin restaurants every day for caviar and black truffles. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. The wife of a billionaire, living worse than a homeless person on the street.

I suffered through a sleepless night in the freezing wine cellar. The moment the door opened the next morning, I rushed to the hospital like a madwoman. Mom was lying in the hospital bed, wearing an oxygen mask, gasping weakly. Tears poured down my face. I grabbed her hand tightly. “Mom, I’m here…” “Miss Miller, you’re finally here.” The attending physician walked in, holding a chart, looking worried. “Miss Miller, we performed emergency surgery last night, but your mother needs a second heart bypass immediately—it’s her only chance.” “Then do the surgery! I’ll pay whatever it costs!” “However…” The doctor lowered his voice. “Your previous medical team was replaced. The new doctors were arranged by Miss Chloe. Without Mr. Thorne’s authorization, we cannot perform a surgery of this level.” I went numb. Cold sweat soaked my back. The doctor looked at me with pity. “Miss Chloe said if you can come up with two hundred thousand dollars, she will agree to the surgery. Otherwise, she will completely cut off the funding for your mother’s medical bills.” I never expected Julian to go this far just to play this absurd “housekeeper game” with Chloe. He stopped the money for my mother’s life! Seeing my pale face, Mom struggled to tug at my shirt. “Sarah… don’t beg him for me anymore…” I shook my head desperately, sobbing. “Mom, you’re the only family I have left. Even if I have to sell my blood, I will cure you.” Tears blurred my vision. I didn’t see the heartbreak in my mother’s eyes. I also missed the look of longing and finality as she watched me leave. When I rushed back to the villa, Julian was in the dining room, coaxing Chloe to eat breakfast. A long table was filled with luxurious dishes. From French omelets to top-grade Kobe steak. The stark contrast fueled my rage. Thinking of my dying mother, I rushed over. “Julian, why did you stop my mom’s medical funds?” Julian put down his knife and fork, looking surprised. “When did I…” “I ordered it.” Chloe dabbed her mouth elegantly with a napkin. Her look was full of arrogance. “Mrs. Thorne, your daily allowance is five dollars. If your mom needs two hundred grand for surgery, go earn it yourself.” I shook with anger, looking at Julian in disbelief. “You’re just going to watch her do this? That’s a human life!” “Chloe.” Julian finally spoke. “Maybe we should…” His words were cut off by Chloe’s scream. “You’re going to give in to her again?” She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. “When you brought me back, you agreed that I would be in charge! Now your wife wants to break my rules with just one word? Then why am I even here? I’m leaving!” Julian quickly grabbed her. “Okay, okay, I’ll listen to you. Whatever you say.” I stared blankly at the scene. My heart felt like it was splitting open. This was the man I had loved for ten years. My mother and I were nothing but tools for him to please his mistress. Looking at the table full of food, I let out a cold laugh. “Chloe, you tell us to be thrifty, but why are you so extravagant? If I recall, that couture dress is from this season’s runway. It costs tens of thousands of dollars.” Chloe pouted nonchalantly. “The rules are for the Thorne family. I’m not a Thorne…” “Do you know how hard it is for normal people to make money? Your breakfast alone costs a month’s rent for a worker.” Looking at the jewelry dripping off her, I lunged to slap her. The next second, my face burned with pain. Julian used full force to slap me to the floor. He then turned to check Chloe’s neck with concern. He looked down at me, his face dark. “I said, no one is allowed to bully Chloe.” Chloe lifted her chin defiantly. “You want money? Go earn it yourself! Don’t play the victim here.” She grabbed my arm and had the bodyguards drag me into the black Maybach. “I’ll allow you out past eight tonight. I’m taking you to a good place.”

She took me to Manhattan’s most exclusive private club. Seeing my pale face, Chloe smiled triumphantly. “People should work hard for themselves. Go serve tea to the bosses, or kneel and shine their shoes. You might earn some tips.” “When you scrape together two hundred thousand, go save your mom.” Before I could resist, she had me pushed into the noisy hall. For my mother’s medical fees, I had to compromise. I knelt on the expensive carpet in humiliation, polishing the leather shoes of arrogant men. A shiny Italian shoe lifted my chin. A stack of hundred-dollar bills slapped my face like a mockery. “Isn’t this Mrs. Thorne? How did she fall so low?” “Ironic, isn’t it? Can’t even keep her husband.” “You didn’t see Julian’s new girl. I heard last week at the auction, just to make her happy, he spent a hundred million without blinking…” Their words were like poisoned knives, slashing my heart until it bled. My mom’s life was worth less to him than a trinket at an auction. I knelt numbly before rich heir after rich heir, enduring their ridicule. But no matter how hard I tried, the tips didn’t come close to the needed amount. My vision began to darken. Between low blood sugar and stress, I was about to faint. Until a pair of familiar high heels stood before me. “Still trying hard, huh?” Chloe squatted down and patted my cheek. “Since you’re working so hard, I’ll show you something. You’ll love it.” I didn’t understand what she was doing. She took out a delicate porcelain box, opened the lid, and used a silver spoon to scoop out some gray powder. “Guess what this is?” A bad feeling hit me. “Chloe, what is that?” She covered her mouth in mock surprise, malice flowing in her eyes. “I thought you two were close. You don’t even recognize your own mother’s ashes?” “Look how pretty. It looks like fireworks under the lights.” She slowly poured the ashes onto the carpet in front of me. “Thank me. I reunited you two.” Trembling, I pulled out my phone and called the hospital. Every second felt like a century. When the voice answered, mine was distorted by fear. “Doctor, where is my mother?” The other end paused. The tone was heavy. “Mrs. Thorne, I’m so sorry… Your mother passed away this morning.” “She had a heart attack last night. We called both you and Mr. Thorne, but no one answered. Finally, Mr. Thorne’s secretary picked up.” “She said, per Mr. Thorne’s instructions, to cremate the body immediately.” I stared at the porcelain box on the floor. Grief crashed over me like a tsunami. That box really contained my mother… Meeting my gaze, Chloe started laughing. “You and your mom are so stupid! I just showed her a video of you kneeling here shining shoes, and she got so angry she had a heart attack and died.” “If you ask me, you two should go to hell together.” “Chloe, I’m going to kill you! I’ll kill you!” I lunged at her like a wild animal, hands reaching for her throat. If what she said was true, I couldn’t imagine how broken my mom was seeing that video before she died. “Julian, help! She’s going to kill me!” The next second, I was kicked away. I rolled across the floor, my forehead smashing into a table leg. “Sarah, are you crazy?”

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When I was seven, my father brought home a woman with blonde hair and perfect makeup. She handed me a box of sliced mangoes. My mother sat at the dining table, watching silently as I ate the fruit with delight. Then, she signed the divorce papers, walked to the balcony of our Manhattan apartment, and ended her life. From that day on, mangoes became my nightmare. That’s why, after Julian Chase and I exchanged our wedding vows, I looked him in the eye and said: “Julian, if you ever want to divorce me, you don’t need a lawyer. Just hand me a mango.” That day, wearing his custom suit, Julian held me tight on the lawn of Central Park. He swore that from then on, mangoes would be forbidden in his life too. On the Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Julian’s high school friend, Chloe—the girl who always played the innocent victim—placed a mango tied with a red ribbon on his desk. Julian flew into a rage at the office. He announced he was cutting ties with Chloe and fired her on the spot. At that moment, I thought I had married true love. Six months later, I spent a grueling month in Europe to close a two-hundred-million-dollar merger for our company. I returned in triumph with the contract in hand. At the celebration party in a Manhattan lounge, Julian smiled and handed me a glass of golden yellow drink. I drank half of it. The taste was familiar, yet strange. Suddenly, the woman who was supposed to have vanished—Chloe—appeared behind me in an eye-catching red dress. She leaned into my ear and giggled. “Natalie, how does that mango juice taste?” I froze. I looked at my husband in disbelief. Julian was holding his wine glass, trying to suppress a laugh, like he was watching a prank show. “Don’t be like that, Nat. Chloe just wanted to help you.” “We didn’t give you the pulp, just a little juice.” “I think Chloe is right. Not eating mangoes is just psychological. You need to get over it.” He shrugged. “See? You were drinking it happily just now. You’re fine.” The acid in my stomach began to churn. My expression went cold. I raised my hand and splashed the rest of the drink directly into Julian’s face. Then I turned and walked away. Some things are never a joke. Mangoes aren’t. And neither is my divorce.

“Mrs. Chase—apologies, Ms. Sterling. You are suffering from acute gastric spasms caused by severe stress triggers.” In the ER at Mount Sinai, the doctor looked at the report with a serious expression. “You have a severe psychosomatic rejection to a certain ingredient. If you aren’t careful, next time it won’t just be a stomach ache. It could be a perforated stomach or anaphylactic shock.” “We need to keep you overnight for observation. Notify your family immediately.” I fell silent listening to the doctor. For that new project, I hadn’t relaxed for a single minute during thirty-nine days of negotiations in London. I didn’t expect that a glass of mango juice from Julian at my own celebration party would send me to the emergency room. I subconsciously opened our pinned text conversation. I typed a word, then stopped. Something felt wrong. I looked closer. Julian’s profile picture had changed. It was no longer our photo under the Brooklyn Bridge. It was a cartoon of a green mango. While I stared at the screen, Julian called. Through the receiver, his voice was cold and impatient. “I’m back at the apartment. Where are you? You ran off before the party ended. How does that look to the investors?” I remained silent. In the past, I would have softened my tone, apologized like a little girl, and tried to please him. But tonight, my stomach was cramping, and my heart was cramping too. Julian seemed annoyed. “Natalie, how long are you going to keep this up? Chloe just wants to help you overcome your fear. Is this drama necessary?” “I’m in the hospital,” I interrupted coldly. The line went silent for a moment. In all our years of marriage, he had never truly cared about my health. He probably didn’t expect his little “joke” would actually hospitalize me. “Wait there. I’m coming over,” his tone softened slightly. I didn’t want to talk to him. I hung up. I was so weak I didn’t even want to move a finger. Time ticked by. The nurse checked on me three times and changed my IV drip once. But Julian never showed up. Before going to sleep, I checked my phone one last time. Social media pushed Chloe’s latest “story” to my feed. The photo showed a man’s hand tenderly applying a Band-Aid to a girl’s knee. The background was the familiar interior of our Porsche. The caption read: “Every time I get hurt, someone is always there to save me. So blessed~” Chloe’s profile picture had changed to a yellow mango. Bright, sweet, and absolutely disgusting. We’ve known each other for ten years. Julian has always known where my bottom line is. He’s been in the business world long enough to know how to maintain boundaries with the opposite sex. But now, he was crossing the line repeatedly. Fine. The love that bound our marriage together is gone. And that two-hundred-million-dollar European merger I risked my life to secure? That decides the life or death of his company. And it doesn’t need to exist for him anymore either.

I woke up the next day to a silent phone. Not a text or a missed call from Julian. I wasn’t even angry. After the doctor cleared me, I signed the discharge papers and went straight home. The luxury penthouse in Tribeca, overlooking the Hudson River, was something we bought in cash last year. Seven years ago, when we graduated from Columbia, we squeezed into a basement in Queens, sharing a box of cheap Chinese takeout. Five years ago, on the day we got our marriage license, we signed the papers at City Hall, bought two hot dogs from a street cart to celebrate, and shared a supermarket cupcake at home. And now, I was alone in this empty showroom of an apartment, bearing all the pain by myself. I guess I’ll get used to it. I was sitting on the sofa reviewing the draft divorce agreement my lawyer sent when the electronic lock beeped. Julian walked in. A strong scent of rose perfume rushed in with him—Chloe’s favorite Chanel scent. I frowned slightly at the smell. Julian has sensitive skin and is allergic to many chemical fragrances. He used to hate perfume. Because of this, I only used fragrance-free skincare for years. Even our laundry detergent is hypoallergenic. Turns out, he was only strict with me. When he saw me lying on the sofa with my tablet, he froze for a second, then put on a nonchalant expression. “Chloe had too much to drink at the party last night and fell. I took her home.” He scratched his head. “It got too late, so I crashed at a hotel nearby. That’s why I didn’t come to the hospital. You okay?” I nodded. My finger swiped on the tablet, canceling a supplier order, and I replied casually: “Yeah, I got it.” Julian opened his mouth, seeming surprised. My reaction was too calm. It was nothing like the Natalie who used to worry if he was ten minutes late. He hesitated, walked closer, loosened his tie, and looked down at me. “It’s Saturday. Don’t worry about work. I’m planning to take Chloe to Paris to clear her head and check out the market. Do you want to come?” Seven years ago, on my birthday, Julian and I took a Polaroid in Times Square with a street performer dressed as the Statue of Liberty. Looking at the crowded background, he swore that when we were rich, he would take me to Paris and take the exact same photo under the Eiffel Tower. Later, his company grew, and he got busier. He coaxed me time and time again: “Nat, this is a critical period for Series B funding.” “I’m the CEO. I can’t just take a vacation to Europe whenever I want.” He would lean in and pat my shoulder. “You understand, right?” I understood. So I stopped mentioning Paris. I threw myself into operations, building his business empire. But it turns out, as long as Chloe wants to go, he has time. I opened the next email, my tone as flat as if discussing the weather. “Three’s a crowd. I’m not interested.” He seemed relieved hearing this, his tone relaxing. “Alright, I’ll grab my passport and go. Order some takeout for lunch. We’ll eat together when I get back tonight.” “Also, this merger is crucial for opening the global market. I’ve invited investors and major media outlets. We’re holding a press conference at Cipriani Wall Street on Monday.” He paused, looking at me seriously. “Don’t worry, this time I’ll formally introduce you as the co-founder. I won’t let Chloe cause trouble. Haven’t you always wanted to stand by my side openly? Monday is your chance. Prepare well.” I looked up and gave him a faint glance. I knew this was his so-called compensation for last night. But that’s fine. Canceling the European project requires a few days of legal processing anyway. Announcing it on the day of the press conference seems perfect.

That evening, I arrived early at the Michelin-starred French restaurant we frequented. In seven years together, waiting for him had become muscle memory. While waiting, I received a call from London. It was my opponent from the recent negotiations, and an old friend from business school, Ethan Vance. He is now the Executive Vice President of the industry giant, Vanguard Global. Ethan’s voice was warm and magnetic. “Nat, have you thought about my offer to join Vanguard?” He sighed. “Your company is too small. It doesn’t deserve your talent. Julian, that guy… he doesn’t know how to cherish an ace.” This was his third time trying to poach me. The first time was seven years ago. I turned down a high-paying offer to join Julian’s startup shell company, taking a meager salary and paying the rent myself. Ethan called me brain-dead back then. He talked until his mouth was dry, but I wouldn’t budge. The second time was a few days ago at the negotiation table. As a competitor, he was crushed by my proposal. After it ended, he was both impressed and worried. “Nat, I heard your salary at your own company is lower than my assistant’s? Come to me. Don’t let your talent be buried by someone who doesn’t know quality.” I laughed and refused back then. Buried? That was my husband’s company. It was the status I fought seven years to build with him. The third time was now. I only paused for three seconds. I signaled the waiter to open the best bottle of red wine, then spoke crisply into the phone. “Send the offer letter. I start next Tuesday.” There was a two-second pause on the other end, followed by Ethan’s loud, hearty laughter. “Deal! I’m having HR prep the contract right now.” He hung up immediately, afraid I’d change my mind. I smiled. Just as I was putting down my phone, a message from Julian popped up. [Plans changed. Chloe can’t wait to see the tower lights. I took her to change flights and we took off already. Eat dinner by yourself.] [I have a surprise for you when I get back.] Immediately after, my social media feed refreshed with a post from Chloe, specifically tagging me. “Thanks for making my dream come true! As a thank you, I’ll treat you to a Michelin meal tomorrow.” The picture was Chloe holding Julian’s hand. The background was the light show of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The composition and pose were exactly the same as that photo from seven years ago. I stared at the photo for two seconds. Then I exited the app and found Ethan’s chat. [I’m bringing a welcome gift for my onboarding. Is Vanguard interested in that two-hundred-million-dollar European merger?]

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My wedding day was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Instead, my new husband sold my little sister to the heir of the local mafia. It was their dirty transaction. …… My little sister came to see me off on my wedding day. Marcus’s groomsmen cornered her in the bridal suite upstairs. I grabbed a chair. Slammed it against the door. Screamed for them to stop. Marcus wrapped his hand around my throat and threw me to the floor. “Relax, baby. It’s our wedding day.” “The boys are just blowing off some steam.” His mother sat on the velvet sofa, swirling red wine in a crystal glass. Her eyes never left the La Dolce Vita rerun on the television. She didn’t even glance up. When the door finally opened, my sister stumbled out. Her clothes were torn. Her mouth was full of blood. She’d bitten through her own tongue trying to end it. The Mafia – Zane family lawyers buried it as an “accident.” They forced me to stay quiet — for the honor of both families, they said. I picked up a knife. Ready to take someone down with me. Marcus kicked me square in the chest. I coughed blood and died at the door of the bridal suite. My white dress soaked dark red. …… Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back to the moment the limousine pulled up outside Hollow Oak Estate. The first thing I did was send Sophie away. I told her to find Uncle Ray. Don’t come back. Don’t look back. I watched her walk through the iron gates and finally let out a breath. I thought I’d outrun fate. A few minutes later, a scream came from upstairs. I stared at the closed door in horror. Sophie was already gone. So who the hell was in that room?

A scream from upstairs. Then a heavy thud — something hitting the floor hard enough to set the crystal chandelier in the foyer trembling. I looked up at the closed door on the second floor. My bridal suite. I gathered my skirt and bolted for the staircase. A hand shot out and shoved me hard in the shoulder. I lost my footing. My lower back slammed into the banister. I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth. Chloe was leaning against the railing, chewing gum. She wiped her hand off on her bridesmaid dress like I’d dirtied her. “Where do you think you’re running off to, Yara?” “It’s your wedding day.” “You jinx whatever’s going on up there, and trust me — you can’t afford the karma.” I stared at her face. That thick, carefully applied foundation. That smug set of her jaw. Another crash from upstairs. Glass shattering. Then the sound of fabric ripping. A woman’s muffled sobs. The noises came through the door — muffled. Desperate. I tried to push past her. “Move! Someone’s crying for help!” Chloe didn’t budge. She shoved me back. Her long nails raked three bloody lines down my arm. “Help? Honey, the groomsmen are just having a little fun with her.” “That girl should count herself lucky.” “Half the women in Ashford Bay would kill for a night with Bash.” “Today’s your wedding. You should be on your knees thanking him for noticing that little nobody.” I was shaking. I raised my hand to slap her. Someone caught my wrist mid-air. Marcus. My brand-new husband. Reeking of bourbon. He flung my arm aside. I staggered back several steps and nearly went down on my heel. He yanked at his tie, impatient. “Yara, what the hell is wrong with you?” “Those are my groomsmen up there blowing off steam.” “Why are you trying to kill the mood?” I jabbed a finger toward the second floor. “Kill the mood? Raping a girl is the mood?” “That’s a crime, Marcus. Open that door. Now.” He blocked the stairs with his whole body. “Rape? Don’t be so dramatic.” “It’s just roughhousing.” “Your nobody sister plays the virgin act all the time.” “Bet she’s loving it up there. One night with Bash, and she’s set for life.” Donna remained seated on the velvet sofa, sipping her wine. She didn’t even glance up. “Enough already. Stop embarrassing yourself.” “Bash taking an interest in her is an honor for your family.” “You should be grateful, not screaming like a lunatic.” Another scream from upstairs. Sharp. Desperate. “Help! Please, someone help me!” My heart hammered. I lunged for the stairs again. “I’m calling the police.” Marcus’s eyes went dark. He kicked me hard in the stomach. I doubled over, gasping. My phone flew from my hand. He stomped on it. The screen cracked under his heel. He picked it up and tossed it into the champagne ice bucket. It sank to the bottom. Good thing he didn’t know about the second one. Then he pulled a key from his pocket, walked to the front door, and turned the deadbolt. “Nobody leaves until Bash is done.” “Yara, if you screw this up for me, I’ll kill you right here.” Donna stubbed out her cigarette. She flicked the burning butt at my wedding dress. The ember caught on the white silk and burned a small black hole through it. “Really bad bitch,” she said. “Calls the cops on her own husband on her wedding day?” “Honestly, some women deserve what they get.”

The noises upstairs lasted ten more minutes. I tried to run to the window to call for help. Chloe grabbed my hair and yanked me back. A whole clump tore from my scalp. Tears flooded my eyes. I clawed at her face. Chloe shrieked and dug her nails into my cheek, drawing blood. Marcus rushed over. He pinned my shoulders and threw me onto the sofa. Donna stood up slowly. Almost lazily. From her wine. She lit another cigarette. Took her time. Then pressed the burning tip into my arm. The skin sizzled. “You little bitch — want to hit my niece?” “I’ll teach you!” She ground the cigarette into my flesh. “How dare you hit her?!” I curled up in the corner of the sofa, protecting my head. Then the sounds upstairs changed. A dull thud. Like a skull hitting a wall. A few weak, spasmodic noises. Then silence. Absolute silence. That kind of quiet was worse than any scream. Chloe smoothed her dress. A smug smile spread across her face. “Well. That’s quiet.” “Guess she finally gave in.” “I told you. She’s just like the rest of them.” “Yara, you should be thanking me. Don’t forget who set it up.” Donna set her wine glass down on the coffee table. She lifted her espresso cup instead. Took a slow sip. “These young girls. All ‘no, no, no’ until they get a real man.” “Bash has the stamina.” “Not everyone can tame a wild one like that.” I stared at the closed door upstairs. My nails dug bloody crescents into my palms. I had seen Sophie walk out of the estate gates with my own eyes. But what if she had come back? Marcus checked his watch. He straightened his tie and allowed himself a satisfied smile. “Alright, time’s up. Bash is probably done.” “I’ll go check on him. Bring our guest of honor down for a toast.” “Once this deal goes through, the harbor construction bid is ours.” “After that, the Castello name walks tall in Ashford Bay.” He climbed the stairs. Each footstep echoed through the foyer. Each one landed somewhere inside my chest. He stopped in front of the dark wood door and reached for the handle. *Click.*

The door swung open. Marcus disappeared inside. Seconds of dead silence. Then his voice cracked through the house. “Jesus —” Bash’s furious shout followed. “Don’t just stand there yelling! Goddammit, what a mess—” “This bitch is insane!” “Threw herself at the wall — I couldn’t stop her!” “Almost got her blood all over me!” Downstairs, Donna flinched. Coffee spilled down her dress. She shot up from the sofa. “What happened? Oh my God, is someone dead?” She ran for the stairs. Chloe’s face went pale. She hiked up her dress and chased after her. “Marcus! What’s going on?” The living room emptied. Only me. I dragged myself off the floor and lunged for the front door. Locked tight. I grabbed a crystal vase and hurled it at the window. Glass shattered. But wrought iron bars sat on the other side. I turned and stared at the stairs. Five minutes passed. Then heavy footsteps came down. Marcus led the way. His face was the color of paper. Sweat ran down his temples. Donna gripped the banister, her legs shaking. Chloe followed, hand over her mouth. Bash came last. Shirtless. His chest and hands dotted with blood. The victim was not with them. Marcus collapsed onto the sofa. His hands shook so badly he couldn’t light his cigarette. Three tries before the flame held. Bash shrugged the shirt back on, still cursing under his breath. “Marcus, your sister is unhinged.” “I barely touched her, and she went ballistic.” “Started slamming her own head into the wall. Nothing I could do.” “If word gets out, people are going to think I have some kind of problem.” I grabbed Marcus by the collar. “Where is she? What did you do to her?” “I’m calling an ambulance!” He shoved me off, his eyes bloodshot. “Shut up! No ambulance!” “She’s upstairs. She just passed out, that’s all.” “Nobody goes up there!” Chloe patted her chest, relieved. “God, that scared me.” “Her face is so swollen I couldn’t even tell who it was.” “She did that on purpose, didn’t she? Wants to bleed Bash dry.” Donna narrowed her eyes. “Exactly. It’s a shakedown. Classic gold-digger move.” “Trying to worm her way into the Zane family with that sob act.” “Bash, don’t worry. It was an accident. We all saw it.” “She slipped. The whole family will swear to it.” Bash dropped a bloody tissue onto the floor. He opened his wallet and tossed a black card onto the coffee table. “There’s half a mil on that.” “Clean this up. If this leaks, I’ll make your whole family disappear.” Marcus’s fear turned to greed in real time. He snatched the card. “You got it. We’ll clean it up. A family matter. That’s all.” “You’ll never hear about it again.” I scrambled for the landline in the corner. “It’s a human life! She needs a hospital!” Marcus seized the heavy crystal ashtray and brought it down on the phone. Crack. He turned on me, finger inches from my face. “Yara. Are you trying to put us all in prison?” “Bash is running for Chamber president. This can’t come out.” “We handle it here. We’ll bring in a private doctor.” “Until that doctor walks through that door — nobody opens the one upstairs.” A thin, scraping sound drifted down from the second floor. Like fingernails dragging across hardwood. In the dead quiet of the living room, it was hideous. Donna jumped. Her coffee cup fell. “That girl… she’s still alive up there?” “After all that blood — she’s still moving?”

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The wedding Annelise Vance had waited five years for was postponed. Again. Because of Everett Beaumont’s foster sister, Cassandra. She stood in the Plaza Hotel’s ballroom. Just like the ninety-nine times before, she moved through the routine flawlessly. Apologized to every guest. Asked them to leave. A bone-deep exhaustion settled into her. “Annie, Cassie ran off to some street art fair in Brooklyn again.” Everett Beaumont approached, apology in his voice, fingers brushing her elbow. “You know that girl. Always forgetting things. We’ll do it next time, okay?” Annelise didn’t turn around. She stared at the carved doors across the room, watching a server carefully remove the floral sign that read *Beaumont & Vance Wedding*. “Okay?” Everett asked again. That assured tenderness in his voice. “Okay,” she said. It wasn’t the first time anyway. Everett exhaled in relief. He reached to ruffle her hair. She tilted her head, and his hand met empty air. “I need to go get Cassie. She bought too much stuff.” He already had his car keys out, feet moving toward the door. Annelise watched him walk away. “Everett. You promised me. If the hundredth time still doesn’t happen—” “There haven’t been that many.” He didn’t turn around. His voice even carried a smile. “You’re remembering wrong. Next time. I promise.” The door closed behind him. Annelise stood still. Slowly, she pulled out her phone. A memo on the screen. She’d recorded every postponement. From the first entry to the hundredth one now. Every single one documented, clear and precise. He said she remembered wrong. A laugh escaped her. Quiet. Hollow. “Annie?” Her mother’s voice came from behind. Mrs. Joan Vance, eyes red-rimmed, gripped her daughter’s arm. “This wedding…” Annelise looked up. She saw the tears her mother was holding back. The unspoken worry. “It’s off.” Her voice was barely a whisper, like she was discussing something that had nothing to do with her. “You and Dad go back to Queens first. I’ll come home after I sort out the joint account with him.” Mrs. Vance froze. “Annie—” “Mom.” Annelise squeezed her hand. “I’m just… done running into a wall.” Joan Vance opened her mouth. She let out a heavy sigh instead. She looked into her daughter’s eyes and saw something she’d never seen there before. Not sadness. A deep, unsettling calm. She turned and got into the yellow taxi. Annelise watched the car merge into traffic. Then she walked back into the ballroom. She stood in the empty hall. For five years, she’d been the one to apologize to every guest. The one to clean up every mess. But this time, she just stood there. Then she turned abruptly. Headed for the parking lot. She didn’t know why. She followed him. She drove her car. Trailed Everett’s black Range Rover from a distance. Watched him park outside the crowded street art fair. Cassandra was in a puff-sleeved dress. She threw herself into his arms like a leaping fawn. The smile that broke across Everett’s face was so radiant it looked foreign to Annelise. That completely relaxed, unreserved adoration. She had almost never seen it. She stared. Her fingers dug into the steering wheel without her noticing. Cassandra dragged him through the booths of street artists. Forced a ridiculous fluorescent bucket hat on his head. Held up her phone for selfies. Everett looked exasperated. But he indulged her anyway. Even bent down when she stood on tiptoe to stick a decal on his face. Annelise watched it all. Five years. Every time she suggested a simple beach wedding in the Hamptons, or a lawn ceremony in Central Park, Everett would frown and refuse. A Beaumont wedding had to follow tradition. Nothing casual. But here he was. Doing every single “casual” thing with Cassandra. He wasn’t rigid. He wasn’t bound by rules. He just didn’t want to break them for her. She followed them all day. She watched Everett stand in line with Cassandra to buy street food. Watched her act coy until he carried her across the street on his back. Watched him trail behind, arms full of colorful shopping bags, wiping her sweat, even crouching down to tie her undone shoelaces. He had never done any of these things for her. The sky darkened. Annelise finally turned the car around. She couldn’t watch anymore. Back at their Upper East Side apartment building, her car couldn’t open the garage gate. She froze. Then remembered. The last time Cassandra threw a tantrum at their place, she’d smashed Annelise’s favorite coffee cup. Annelise said a few words, and Cassandra ran out crying. That night, to soothe her, Everett deleted Annelise’s license plate from the access system. “You ride in my car anyway,” he’d said then. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. Annelise let out a bitter laugh. She parked at a metered spot on the street. Started walking back. The night wind was cold. She wrapped her arms around herself. Stepped onto the sidewalk. Blinding headlights swung at her from the side. *Bang—* The impact was massive. Her body flew through the air like a broken marionette. The last second before consciousness slipped away, she saw it dimly. Cassandra in the driver’s seat, panic-stricken, throwing herself into the passenger seat. Into Everett’s arms. And him. Holding her tight. His face full of ache.

Annelise opened her eyes to a hospital room washed in stark white. The anesthesia had worn off. Pain spread through her limbs like crawling vines. She tried to move. Her right leg was in a cast. Her left arm wrapped in bandages. Voices came from outside the door. Familiar ones. “Ev, I really didn’t mean it!” Cassandra’s voice, thick with tears. “How was I supposed to know she’d just walk out from the curb—” “Stop. Don’t cry, Cassie.” Everett’s voice was low, gentle. “I’m here. Nothing’s going to happen.” Annelise stared at the ceiling. She propped herself against the bed edge. Moved inch by inch through the searing pain. Gripped the wall and dragged herself to the door. Shoved it open. In the corridor, Cassandra was pressed against Everett’s chest, cheek against his shirt, fingers clutching his suit lapel. Everett’s hand moved on her back in slow, soothing strokes. Like calming a startled cat. They both turned at the noise. Tears still clung to Cassandra’s face. But the moment her eyes landed on Annelise, a flash of irritation crossed them. She turned her face away. Everett froze for a beat. Then he released Cassandra. Hurried over to support Annelise. “Annie, why are you out of bed? The doctor said—” “I’m fine.” Annelise pulled away from his hand. Her gaze settled on Cassandra. “Your sister, on the other hand. She hits someone with a car. Can’t even manage a ‘sorry’?” Everett frowned. Turned to Cassandra. “Cassie. Apologize to your future sister-in-law.” Cassandra’s eyes flew wide. “For what? I said I didn’t do it on purpose!” She stamped her foot. Her voice pitched higher. “Ev! You never forced me to do anything before—” “Before was before.” Annelise’s voice was quiet. Every word distinct. “Now I’m lying in a hospital. She won’t even say sorry. Is that too much to ask?” Everett’s expression hardened. “Cassie. Apologize.” Cassandra bit her lip. Her eyes reddened again instantly. She glared at Annelise. Then grabbed her own phone and hurled it at the floor. “I won’t!” She spun to run. Annelise’s cold voice stopped her. “Block her.” Two men in black suits appeared at the end of the corridor. They blocked Cassandra’s path. Everett stared. “Annie, what is this—” “Since she doesn’t understand basic decency,” Annelise looked at Cassandra’s suddenly panicked face, each word measured, “send her somewhere she can learn it.” Cassandra screamed. “Ev! I don’t want to go to some etiquette school in Switzerland! You promised Mom and Dad you’d always take care of me!” Everett’s mouth opened on reflex. Then his gaze landed on Annelise’s bandaged arm. His throat moved. He just said quietly, “Go. Come back when you’ve learned.” Cassandra stared in disbelief. Tears rolled down her face in fat drops. This time, Everett didn’t soften. The bodyguards hauled her away. The corridor finally fell silent. The next few days, Everett never left the hospital room. He fed her water with his own hands. Wiped her face. When she woke in pain in the middle of the night, he was on his feet instantly, pressing the call button. Annelise watched him fussing over her. Quiet. Still. Her mind drifted to a winter night five years ago. She’d worked late. Her stomach was cramping so badly she broke out in cold sweat. Everett drove across half the city through a snowstorm. Brought food. Brought medicine. He’d cupped her ice-cold hands in his palms and said, “You have me now. I won’t let you go through anything alone again.” That one sentence. That’s what made her endure ninety-nine times. “Annie?” Everett’s voice pulled her back. “Still hurting?” Annelise shook her head. Everett took her hand. His voice thick with guilt. “When you’re better, I’ll tie Cassie up if I have to. She’ll be at the wedding. Nothing will go wrong this time—” “That joint account,” Annelise said suddenly. “How long does it take to unbind?” Everett went rigid. “What?” “Just asking.” Her tone was even. Everett stared at her for several seconds. His throat worked. “Quick. A day or two.” Annelise nodded. Said nothing more. The room fell into sudden silence. After a long while, Everett stood. “I have a meeting at the company. I’ll come see you tomorrow.” Annelise answered with a soft sound. Watched him walk to the door. “Everett.” He looked back. “Nothing.” His back stiffened noticeably. But he didn’t turn around. He just pulled the door shut gently behind him.

The day Annelise was discharged, Everett didn’t show up. She dragged her still-healing body straight to the bank. The private banker took her ID with both hands. Typed briefly on the keyboard. Looked up with a professional smile. “Miss Vance, the joint account unbinding can take effect today. Would you like me to process it now?” “Do it now.” Annelise’s voice was calm. “All of it.” Back home, Annelise eased herself into a chair at the dining table. Pain from her wounds made cold sweat bead at her temples. She was reaching for a glass of water when the apartment door slammed open. Everett burst in. Carrying Cassandra. Annelise froze. Cassandra was shaking violently. Her expensive tweed dress was crumpled and twisted around her body. Her bare arms were mottled with bruises. Her eyes were unfocused. Mouth muttering something incoherent. She looked like someone who’d suffered a complete breakdown. “Satisfied?” Everett’s voice was ice. He shoved Cassandra toward Annelise. “Look at what you did!” Annelise stood up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Playing dumb?” Everett flipped the dining table. Glass cups crashed to the floor, shattering. “What kind of place did you send her to? Psychological conditioning? Drug injections? Locking her in dark rooms? That’s your so-called etiquette school?” Cassandra shrieked suddenly. Covered her head and crouched down. “Don’t lock me up! I’ll be good! I’ll be good—” Annelise stared in shock. “I arranged a legitimate finishing institution. Right here in New York.” She didn’t finish the sentence before Everett grabbed her chin. “Security footage shows she was transferred the night she arrived. You’re telling me you didn’t order that?” He threw her aside. Barked at the door. “Now!” Two men in black suits stormed in. They seized Annelise. “Since you think this kind of education is so effective,” Everett picked up the treatment center brochure Cassandra had dropped. He flung it in her face. “You go experience it yourself.” Annelise struggled violently. She was shoved roughly into a car. What she couldn’t see was the thing churning in Everett’s eyes as the car door slammed shut. It wasn’t just rage. It was something deeper. A predator watching prey try to leave its territory. Cassandra’s ordeal might have been an accident. But Annelise’s recent behavior. The quiet test of unbinding the account. The way she’d stopped looking at him with that dependent gaze. These small shifts had triggered a specific kind of panic in him. He needed a way to make her understand. Without him, she couldn’t even have basic safety. This opportunity had presented itself. He would use it. Make her learn completely what it meant to be *his*. In his arms, Cassandra’s mouth curved. An almost invisible arc. Darkness. That was the only thing Annelise felt after being locked inside that “mental health retreat” in the Utah badlands. By the time she was pushed into the treatment room, the wound on her right leg had split open. Dark blood seeped into her pant leg. Every step made her nearly scream. The orderly behind her saw her slow pace. Kicked her directly in the back of the knee. “Ah—” She crashed to her knees on the concrete. The pain whited out her vision. Before she could catch her breath, agony tore through her scalp. The orderly had her by the hair. Dragged her across the floor to a cold treatment chair. “I hear you’re the Beaumont family’s almost-bride?” The orderly sneered, strapping down her wrists and ankles. “What’s wrong? Your fiancé personally sent you in for discipline?” Cold restraints bit into her skin. “I didn’t,” her voice was hoarse. “I really didn’t know—” “Shut up!” A slap cracked across her face. “First rule here. No talking back.” Annelise’s head snapped to the side. The taste of rust flooded her mouth. Her vision swam. She heard dimly as the orderly spoke into the intercom. “Mr. Beaumont, your fiancée isn’t very cooperative. Shall we add the special prescription?” A few seconds of silence. Then Everett’s cold voice came through. “Do what you want.” No rage in that voice. No loss of control. Just a calm so absolute it was terrifying. Annelise shuddered. This wasn’t revenge. This was breaking. The orderly pulled a syringe from the medicine cabinet. Tapped the barrel. Walked toward her. The sting of the needle piercing her vein. Ice-cold liquid pushed into her bloodstream. Then a second injection. Unknown drugs began peeling her consciousness away. Her heart raced wildly, then slowed to a near stop. Like a fist squeezing the organ and releasing it. Nausea and vertigo crashed over her in waves. This wasn’t treatment. This was punishment. Late night. Annelise was thrown back into the isolation cell. A few square meters of space. A hard plank bed. She curled in the corner. The wound on her right leg had festered. The slightest movement sent bone-deep pain through her. She was burning with fever. On the edge of consciousness, she heard the iron door crash open. “Annie? Annie—”

By the time Everett carried Annelise out of that hell, her consciousness was nearly gone. Her body was on fire. The wound on her right leg was blackened with necrosis. But when the doctor moved to administer anesthesia, Everett stopped him cold. “No. Let her remember this lesson.” The pain of needle and thread tearing through flesh made her vision go dark. She bit down on her lip until blood dripped down her chin. Tears fell uncontrollably. Trembling, she clutched Everett’s sleeve. “Why… do this to me?” Everett looked down at her. For one moment, the cruelty in his eyes seemed to crack open. Something deeper underneath. Exhaustion. Weariness. But the crack sealed fast. He used his fingers to lift her chin, pressing hard enough to leave white marks on her skin. His voice was low. Certain. “Because you started wanting to leave me. And I won’t allow it.” Annelise’s whole body jolted. Her eyes went wide. “You think I didn’t know? Unbinding the account. The way you’ve been looking at me lately. Like you’re trying to talk yourself out of something.” His tone was light. Almost carrying a faint smile. Like he was discussing something trivial. “You’re mine. Every inch of your skin. Every flicker of emotion. It all belongs to me. That I didn’t find a way to make you remember this fact earlier. That was my oversight.” Annelise suddenly laughed. Tears streaming down her face. “I understand now.” “Good that you understand.” Everett’s voice softened a fraction. He gestured for the doctor to continue bandaging. “I love you. But some boundaries you don’t cross. This time you took some pain. There won’t be more unpleasantness like this between us in the future.” “The wedding?” Annelise’s voice was raw. “There won’t ever be a wedding.” Everett’s expression froze. Before he could speak, the doctor cut in. “Mr. Beaumont, the wound infection is severe. She might run a high fever tonight. Someone needs to stay with her.” “I’m staying.” Everett’s voice left no room for argument. He turned back to Annelise, tone gentler. “Sleep. I’m not going anywhere.” When the doctors and nurses had left, he pulled a chair to the bedside. Reached out and gently brushed the sweat-damp hair from Annelise’s forehead. Annelise stilled. Five years ago, when she had that bad flu, Everett had sat by her bed in her apartment just like this. Awkwardly made soup. Fed her spoonful by spoonful. “Sleep.” Everett’s voice was soft. His fingers combed slowly through her hair. He began humming a low melody. The lullaby her mother used to hum when she was little. His voice was deep and gentle. Nothing like the cold man issuing orders moments ago. Her body surrendered before her mind did. Her eyelids grew heavy. In the haze, she felt Everett gently patting her back. Still humming that song. Like countless times before, she slowly relaxed into his presence. Into his voice. Sank into the dark. In the middle of the night, Annelise woke to searing pain. Her body was burning up. Through blurred vision, she called weakly. “Everett.” The empty hospital room gave back only her own echo. She strained to reach the call button. Couldn’t press it. Her throat was parched. She struggled up. The moment she reached her wheelchair, she fell to the floor. “Is anyone there?” She crawled toward the door. Through it, she heard two nurses whispering in the hallway. “All the attending physicians have been pulled to the VIP wing!” “They’re saying Miss Beaumont woke up and won’t stop crying. Mr. Beaumont was so frantic he had every specialist reassigned.” Annelise’s vision darkened. She pushed against the wall. Moved toward the VIP section. She had to find a doctor. The door to the VIP suite was ajar. She was about to knock when she saw through the gap. Everett stood over Cassandra’s bed. One hand braced on the nightstand. Leaning down close to her face. From Annelise’s angle, it looked exactly like a kiss about to land. She didn’t even have time to register whether it did. Cassandra’s eyes snapped toward the door. Met hers. In that instant, Cassandra’s mouth curved. Not surprise. Not panic. A smile. A satisfied curve. Annelise stepped back. Her knee hit a metal trash can in the hallway. The clang was deafening. “Who’s there?!” Everett whipped around. His face went pale when he saw Annelise. He rushed out, grabbed her shoulders. “What did you see?” Annelise couldn’t speak. Only tears fell. “Listen.” Everett pulled her a few steps away. Lowered his voice. His expression was grim with an intensity she rarely saw. “Some things aren’t what you think. She’s holding something over me. I can’t tell you much. But you need to stay away from her. Don’t talk to her alone. Don’t take her calls. Can you promise me that?” Annelise looked at the rare vigilance and agitation on his face. She couldn’t tell if it was concern or another layer of lies. He didn’t wait for her answer. Helped her back to her room. Ordered the bodyguards, “Watch her. No one in or out.” The door slammed shut behind her. Annelise was trapped inside. Her body too weak to resist. The next day, Annelise woke to agony. She opened her mouth. No sound came out. Panicked, she pressed the call button. The doctor who examined her shook his head. “The high fever and stress response caused severe damage to the vocal cords. It may be very difficult to regain normal speech.” Everett, who had rushed over, stood frozen.

“Why wasn’t a doctor called?” Everett grabbed the bodyguard by the collar. The bodyguard stammered in terror. “A-all the specialists were with Miss Beaumont… by your own orders.” Everett’s hand went slack. He turned toward the bed. Annelise lay quietly against the pillow. Her gaze was empty, fixed on the window. No reaction to his rage. “Annie.” He sat at her bedside. Reached for her hand. “I will get you the best treatment. I will fix this.” Annelise pulled her hand back. Slowly. Didn’t even spare him a glance. “Last night,” Everett lowered his voice. “Forget it. We’ll go back to how things were.” The door burst open. Cassandra bounced in. “Ev! The doctor says I’m all better now!” Everett frowned. Looked at his bouncing sister. Looked at his barely conscious fiancée. He opened his mouth. Cassandra’s eyes flickered. She burst into tears. “Ev doesn’t want me to be okay?” “…No.” Everett rubbed his temple. “Isn’t there a party tonight? Go get ready.” Cassandra’s tears vanished into a smile. She glanced at Annelise. “Annie should come too.” Annelise shook her head violently. Everett was already nodding. “Of course she’ll be there.” Once Cassandra left, Everett bent to straighten Annelise’s blanket. “Play along. When she’s happy, we can keep living our lives.” Annelise closed her eyes. “My indulgence of Cassie,” Everett said suddenly, voice low, “it’s not what you think. Some things, once she exposes them, the Beaumont family is finished. And if the Beaumont family is finished, I lose everything. Including you. Do you understand?” Annelise’s mouth pulled into a bitter curve. He’d said “including you.” Like she was an item on his asset list. Some piece of fixed property. A line item he didn’t have to worry about losing. The party was a blur of clinking glasses and murmured conversation. Annelise sat silent in the corner. Listening to the whispers around her. “I heard she did terrible things to Miss Beaumont. Just to force her way into the family.” “Shameless. How many times has that wedding been postponed?” She clutched the fabric of her dress. So this was what everyone thought. She was the vicious outsider. From the corner of her eye, she caught Cassandra furtively pouring something into Everett’s glass. She handed it to him. Not long after, Everett stumbled upstairs. Cassandra followed. Annelise looked away. She stood. Headed for the restroom. She’d just pushed the door open when a force yanked her into the adjacent room. “Ah—!” She stumbled to a stop. The scene before her froze her in place. On the large bed, Cassandra huddled to one side. Disheveled. Weeping. Clutching the sheets around herself. Everett’s face was abnormally flushed. His eyes unfocused. Clearly not in a lucid state. “Why did she make me come here… I want to die—” Cassandra cried. Everett jolted upright. Grabbed the water glass from the nightstand. Hurled it at Annelise. *Crash!* Blood trickled down her face. “You drugged her drink?” Everett’s eyes were bloodshot. Fury and the remnants of whatever drug he’d been given churned together. “Then sent her here. I warned you to stay away from her!” Annelise shook her head desperately. Her silence was the perfect evidence of guilt. Everett pulled his jacket around Cassandra. Pushed her toward the door. “Go. Don’t worry. No one will know.” When only the two of them remained, he grabbed Annelise’s chin. His breathing was heavy. His voice carried the hoarse edge of a cornered animal. “She’s driving me insane. Do you know what she’s threatening me with? She says she’ll send footage of tonight to every gossip outlet. Along with those photos she had someone doctor. It won’t just be me. You’ll be dragged into it too.” He released her. Stepped back. Fists clenched. “And what she wants most. Do you know?” He looked into Annelise’s eyes. His voice suddenly went soft. “You gone. Completely, thoroughly erased from my life.” What followed happened fast. He spoke coldly to the men outside. “Bring the sedative.” The bodyguards forced her mouth open. Poured the liquid down her throat. Annelise thrashed. Useless. “Since she thinks I also consumed something,” Everett dragged her by the arm, “let everyone else believe it too. You’ll spend a few hours in the cold storage. Wait until the guests are gone. It’s the only way to satisfy her temporarily. You just need to endure one night.” In the cold storage, Annelise curled in the corner. The drug was taking effect. Her consciousness wrapped in damp, freezing cotton. She clawed at her collar, desperate for coolness. The icy air turned her exposed skin to frost in seconds. “Hah… hah…” She gasped, mouth open. Her breath crystallized into white mist. Between the sedative’s stupor and the bone-deep cold, in the haze, she saw it. The first time she met Everett. The sunlight had been beautiful that day. He’d stood under the cherry blossom trees at Columbia University and said, “Annelise Vance, I’m going to make you the happiest woman in the world.” But she was dying now. All because of him.

When the cold storage door was forced open, Annelise had already lost sensation. In the blinding light stood Everett’s tall figure. He nudged her curled body with the toe of his shoe. “Learned your lesson?” The frost on Annelise’s lashes crumbled. She nodded. Slow. Painful. Everett bent and scooped her up. His palm touched her burning skin. He paused. “The drug hasn’t worn off?” The private doctor followed nervously behind. “The sedative combined with hypothermia… now that her body temperature is rising, circulation is accelerating. The residual drug effects will intensify.” Before he finished speaking, Annelise was tossed onto the massive bed in the master bedroom. Everett tore off his tie and pressed down, his hot breath against her ear. “No…” Annelise pushed him away with everything she had. He stumbled back a step. Stood there. Watched her for a long moment. She didn’t look at him. Just turned her head away. Her entire body looked drained of every last drop of strength. Her rejection wasn’t anger. Wasn’t hate. It was the complete void of someone who couldn’t even bother to feel hatred anymore. Everett didn’t come closer. He stared at her for a long time. His throat moved. Then he turned and slammed the door behind him. Through the door came his muted voice. “Give her fluids. Just don’t let her die in my house.” That night, Annelise stood in the shadow of the hallway. Through the crack of the master bedroom door, warm light spilled out. Everett sat alone on the bed. Elbows on his knees. Hands pressed together against his forehead. On the phone before him, a video seemed to be playing. One Cassandra had sent. She couldn’t make out the screen from the gap. Only a distorted synthetic voice. “Guess how much the gossip sites would pay for this?” He rubbed his eyes with his palm. Stayed in that position. Didn’t move for a long time. Just him alone in that room. And the cold blue light of the phone. Expressionless, Annelise moved. At the turn of the corridor, she came face to face with Cassandra. Two glasses of wine in her hands. Cassandra was in a nearly transparent silk nightgown. She smiled when she saw Annelise. Leaned in. Her voice was for only the two of them. “He won’t bother you tonight. After tonight, he won’t even have the nerve to look at you anymore.” She walked past. Around the corner came a soft gasp. A heavy thud. The sound of shattering glass. “Ev…” Cassandra’s tearful voice. “I know you’re just scared. Let me be with you. Okay?” Then the sound of something being knocked over. And Everett’s hoarse answer. So quiet it was almost inaudible. But his tone was like someone pushing away something he shouldn’t touch. “Stay away from me, Cassie. Now.” The door closed from the inside. The lock clicked. Annelise didn’t keep listening. She walked into the spare bedroom across the hall. Calmly pulled out her phone. On the encrypted messaging app, she tapped the pinned number. “Mr. Shaw. Interested in a deal?” “I’ll sell you an opportunity to destroy Everett Beaumont’s reputation.” “In exchange, find me the best throat specialist in the country.” The reply was instant. “Tomorrow. Ten a.m. I’ll send the address.” The next day, Annelise sat in a Baltimore examination room. Watched the white-haired doctor Declan Shaw had brought remove the laryngoscope from her mouth. The old man frowned. Shook his head. “Vocal cord nerve damage is significant. But not beyond hope.” Declan leaned by the window. The business magnate who’d fought the Beaumonts for years smiled. Not quite a smile. “Now. Time to deliver on your promise.” Annelise typed on her phone. Turned the screen toward him. Photos of Everett and Cassandra together in private settings. A detailed timeline. And the family secret explosive enough to detonate every media outlet. Cassandra was not the Beaumonts’ legally adopted daughter. She was the late Mr. Beaumont’s illegitimate child. Born from an affair. Once this came to light, the entire foundation of the family trust would be legally contested. Declan raised an eyebrow. “And here the Upper East Side has been calling you devoted. Suffered all that. And you only just now decide to play this card.” She lowered her head. Said nothing. She’d been a fool. If she’d used this earlier, how would she have ended up here? The door to the exam room swung open. Everett strode in. Cold air clung to him. His gaze turned icy when it landed on Declan. “What are you doing here?” Annelise locked her phone instantly. Looked up at Everett. The familiar concern was still in his brow. But now, to her, it was only mockery. “Come back with me.” Everett reached for her. Paused at the bandages on her wrist. His voice softened slightly. “I know I went too far. But from now on, listen to me. Stop acting on your own. The more you know about Cassie’s background, the less she’ll leave you alone.” Annelise yanked her hand back. She looked at him. A cold smile curved her mouth. So everything had been within his control all along. Not that he couldn’t protect her. He didn’t think she needed protecting. Not that he was powerless. He thought she hadn’t been broken enough yet. In the car back, Everett gripped the steering wheel. “There’s a charity auction tonight. A piece of antique jewelry from a European royal collection. I saw the photos. It would suit you.” He glanced at her. “I’ll win it for you.” Annelise gazed out the window. Nodded slightly. But when night fell and she stood in the corner of the auction, watching Everett walk in with Cassandra on his arm, her heart seized with a violent stab of pain. “Ev, that diamond necklace is so beautiful!” Cassandra tugged his sleeve. Coquettish. Everett raised his paddle without hesitation. “Two million.” “Those emerald earrings are gorgeous too!” “Three million.” Annelise watched Everett raise his paddle again and again for Cassandra. A bitter laugh rose in her throat. How could she have been so blind? How had it taken her this long to see it?

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At her son’s birthday party, the host asked him his biggest wish. He grabbed the mic, face lit with anticipation. “I want Genevieve Sinclair to be my mom.” The guests roared with laughter. Every glance aimed at me was barbed. Mocking. Hungry for a scene. Genevieve was Nathaniel Whitmore’s assistant. This wasn’t the first time my son had tried to replace me with her. I didn’t want a public meltdown, so I let it slide. Then the party photos arrived. My face had been edited out. Genevieve’s face was in my place. I asked around. My son had demanded it. And Nathaniel had allowed it. In that moment, I felt hollowed out. A bone-deep exhaustion that drowned every flicker of rage. That night, I told him I wanted a divorce. He sat in his study, in that leather chair, and didn’t even lift his eyes. “Over a photo?” “Yes. Over a photo.” *** “How many times is this, Catherine? Stop threatening divorce every time we hit a rough patch.” Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked like a man dealing with an unreasonable subordinate, not his wife of eight years. “This time it’s real. Nathaniel, let’s end this.” I held his gaze. His mouth twitched, dismissive. He looked back down at the papers on his desk. “I don’t have time for this. The board meeting is this afternoon. My father will be there in person.” Genevieve was waiting at the study door. She cradled Nathaniel’s bespoke suit jacket in her arms like a sentry on duty. “Mrs. Whitmore, the chairman himself will be at this meeting. It wouldn’t look good for Nathaniel to be late.” Her eyes held a veiled reproach. Like I was the one being unreasonable. The anchor dragging my husband down. The fury ignited and burned through every rational thought I had left. “Did anyone ask you?!” “Catherine!” Nathaniel slammed his palm on the desk. The coffee cup jumped. Dark liquid splattered across his documents. Genevieve’s eyes welled up instantly. Her voice quivered. “Nathaniel, it’s fine. Please don’t fight with your wife because of me.” Right in the middle of this standoff, her phone rang. She answered it. “Accidentally” hit speaker. A thick Boston accent exploded into the room. “Gina, where’s your man? Still not out the door?” “Don’t tell me the wife’s got him on lockdown again. Jesus.” “Honestly, Nathaniel should just get the divorce and be with you openly. You two actually look right together.” I knew that voice. Marcus. Nathaniel’s best friend. He used to call me Cassie, sweet as pie, every time he saw me. “Marcus, stop it. We’ll be right there.” Genevieve fumbled to hang up. But the flush creeping up her ears was unstoppable. “Sorry, Mrs. Whitmore. Marcus just jokes around. Don’t take it to heart.” I ignored her. I pinned my eyes on Nathaniel. “So this is how your friends see me? In your social circle, I’m just a joke? Publicly. Openly.” Nathaniel rubbed his temple, exasperated. “Catherine, can you please stop fixating on things like this?” “I can’t control what other people say.” He grabbed his papers and moved to walk past me. As he brushed by, a scent hit me. Cedar and juniper. Exactly like the fragrance clinging to Genevieve. A silent declaration. That scent snapped my last thread of sanity. I stepped in front of him and screamed. “Sign the divorce papers! Now!” Nathaniel’s face went rigid. His knuckles were bone-white. “Over a retouched photo? Are you serious?” “I already told the photographer to rush the original negatives. We’ll hang the real one back up. Okay?” “Owen wanted the picture changed because you’re always busy. Gina’s the one raising him most of the time. Is it a crime for a kid to want a photo with the person he’s close to?” “Maybe you should reflect on that.” Genevieve’s eyes were brimming. She cut in at the perfect moment. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Whitmore. I’ve gotten too close to Owen. But Nathaniel has been preparing for this board meeting for two weeks. I’m begging you. Please don’t do this to him right now.” I looked at them. One playing the martyr, delicate and wronged. One seething with rage, hiding behind his moral high ground. And I was the only unreasonable person in this room. But they made me this way. Step by step. My marriage to Nathaniel was a business deal. My father was a founding partner at Kensington Capital, a private equity firm in Boston. The Whitmores needed to partner up for a prime commercial real estate acquisition in the Seaport District. The elders of both families sealed the deal in the boardroom. I was part of the package. The second year of our marriage, the SEC launched a surprise investigation into my father. Securities fraud. Conspiracy to commit money laundering. He never even got the chance for bail. Federal prosecutors took him straight into custody. His company’s management was purged overnight. The man who took over was his lifelong enemy. The Whitmores panicked. Less than forty-eight hours after my father was taken away, they were already pushing Nathaniel to divorce me. It was my father who begged him. In the visiting room of the federal detention center. Begged him not to abandon me then. I only found out about that later. At the time, I thought Nathaniel stayed because he had feelings for me. Then I got pregnant. They made me sign a brutal marital property agreement. I waived any claim to the Whitmore family trust. I gave up my say in my child’s education and inheritance rights. In exchange, my child would be acknowledged by the family. After I gave birth to Owen, they took him to the old estate on Nantucket. They said my “mental state made me unfit” to raise him. I was allowed to see my son once a week. Supervised by the housekeeper and a lawyer. Like a prison visit. Years later, Owen finally came back to live with me. But by then, his grandparents had taught him everything. He’d learned to despise me the way they did. He never called me Mom. Just Catherine. He introduced me to his classmates as “my father’s wife.” At one family dinner, he told Genevieve in fluent French that she should have been his mother. Then he turned to me, all innocence. “Sorry. Forgot you don’t speak French.” I wanted so badly to repair things with him. I turned a blind eye to every insult, every dismissal. I kept trying to win him over. But he only had warmth for Genevieve. Before the birthday party, I’d heard him tell his friends a hundred times. He wanted a Jellycat bunny. I bought it. I was going to give it to him when he blew out his candles. But when the host asked for his wish, he shot me a look full of spite and screamed it out. “I want Genevieve Sinclair to be my mom.” It felt like ten thousand knives stabbing into my heart at once. The guests’ laughter flayed me alive. And Nathaniel let it all happen. I swallowed the hurt and humiliation. I forced a smile. I greeted every guest like nothing was wrong. In the end, I wasn’t even allowed to have my own face in my own family photo. This time, I was truly done. I just wanted to escape this suffocating nightmare. “Nathaniel, you’re not leaving this house until you sign.”

I locked my fingers around Nathaniel’s arm. My nails bit into the fabric of his tailored suit. “Catherine! Are you trying to drive everyone insane?!” He seized the crystal paperweight off his desk and hurled it to the floor. The shatter echoed through the entire house. “Ah!” Genevieve screamed, cowering in place. Nathaniel rushed to her instantly. He shielded her behind him, patting her back, murmuring reassurances. He didn’t notice the shards of glass that had sliced open the top of my foot. Blood trailed down my ankle. It dripped onto the dark walnut floor. “Nathaniel,” Genevieve’s voice cracked. “I should’ve never gone to that birthday party. I never imagined it would cause this much trouble between you and your wife.” “It’s not your fault. This is on me.” Nathaniel’s gray-blue eyes were thick with guilt. “I should have handled this.” Genevieve shook her head, a delicate sob escaping. She tugged at his sleeve. “The most important thing right now is to calm Mrs. Whitmore down.” One sentence. That was all it took to bring Nathaniel back to cold focus. He ordered the butler to bring Owen down. A few moments later, Owen trudged down the stairs. The second he saw Genevieve, he tore free from the butler and ran into her arms. “Auntie Gina, I missed you so much.” Genevieve scooped him up, patting him affectionately. “Auntie missed you too, sweetheart.” Owen noticed the tear streaks on her face. He waved a tiny fist in the air. “Why are you crying? Who hurt you? I’ll punch them!” From start to finish, Owen didn’t spare me a single glance. I forced the words out. “Owen. Come to Mommy.” Owen finally turned his head. He looked at me with a calm far too old for his age. “Please don’t act like this in front of guests, Catherine. It’s unbecoming.” A dull blade. That’s what it felt like. Sawing slowly, cruelly, through my heart. “Owen! That’s no way to talk!” Nathaniel’s reprimand had almost no weight behind it. Just going through the motions. “He’s just a child. Give it time.” Genevieve’s voice was butter-soft. Owen immediately clung to her like she was his fortress. “Auntie Gina is the best. Not like some people. Always giving Dad trouble.” “Owen!” Nathaniel’s face finally hardened. But I knew. It wasn’t to defend me. He just didn’t want the situation to get uglier. “Apologize to your mother. Or she’s really going to leave.” Owen’s eyes lit up. Pure, unfiltered joy. “She’s really leaving?” He turned to me, his face bright with victory. “Then I apologize for my wording. You can go now.” My heart was being carved out piece by piece. Was this truly the child I’d carried inside me for ten months? Nathaniel’s brow furrowed hard. “You do not speak like that! Apologize properly to your mother!” Owen had inherited Nathaniel’s stubbornness. Stubborn as a mule. His eyes went red. He shook his head violently. “I already apologized. If she won’t accept it, that’s her problem.” Even Nathaniel was powerless against him. It was Genevieve who crouched down. Her voice was a soft coo. “Sweetheart, be good for Auntie. Say a proper sorry to your mom. Okay?” Owen bit his lip. He hesitated for a long moment. Then, impossibly, he gave in. “Sorry. Is that good enough?” Nathaniel exhaled in relief. “He apologized. Now can you stop this?” “Enough is enough. I’ve done everything I can.” Right then, Genevieve’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it and typed a reply. Immediately, Owen’s Apple Watch lit up. For the next two minutes, the phone and the watch vibrated in a steady rhythm. A secretive little smile played on Owen’s lips. He shot me a furtive glance. My stomach dropped. I realized they were chatting. Privately. About me. My fingers trembled uncontrollably. Before rational thought could stop me, I lunged forward and ripped the watch off Owen’s wrist. “That’s mine! Give it back!” Owen shrieked and flew at me. His small fists rained down on my face and neck. I barely felt the pain. I stared at the screen. Owen, Nathaniel, and Genevieve had a group chat. The name blazed at the top: The Dream Team ✨. Owen: She’s got that sour face on again today. I can’t stand her. Genevieve: Sweetie, that’s not nice to say~ But Auntie hates seeing you so upset too 🥺 Owen: Why doesn’t she just move out? Then Owen can be with Auntie Gina forever! Genevieve: Darling, we keep those thoughts right here in our hearts, okay? Saying them out loud might make Mommy sad… My vision blurred. Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. My husband. My son. And another woman. Their “Dream Team.” What a monumental joke. The watch hit the floor. The screen shattered into pieces. “You broke my watch!” Owen was shaking with rage. “Do you know Auntie Gina gave me that?!” He scooped up the broken pieces and hurled them at my head. A sharp burst of pain. Warm liquid trickled down. I touched my fingers to the wound. They came back red. “Owen. Enough.” Nathaniel finally reached out to stop him. He pulled a few tissues from the side table and handed them to me. “Sometimes when your child isn’t close to you, you need to look at yourself.” “You’re always this aggressive. Who would want to be near you?” “Alright. He apologized. You should be satisfied now.” The blood soaked through the tissues fast. I stood there in silence, looking at the three of them. My husband. Shielding Genevieve. My son. Glaring at me from the space between them. And Genevieve. Clutching Owen with such tender concern. What a blissful little family they made. “Sign.” My voice came out eerily calm. “This marriage is over.”

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Damien Sinclair loved tossing the word breakup around like it cost him nothing. The day I stopped was the day he started begging instead. Every time we fought, he’d throw it out. And every time, I came crawling back. Until the day I found a round-trip ticket to Charleston on his phone. The city where his ex-wife lived. I went into his study to ask for an explanation. He didn’t even look up from the contract he was signing. “Sophia’s been feeling down lately,” he said, like it was obvious. “I have a business trip that way. I’ll stop by and check on her.” Flat. Bored. “Olivia. If you can’t give me that much trust, then let’s break up.” I stared down at the screen in my hand. Then back up at him. Two seconds. “Okay. Let’s break up.” …… Damien’s pen stilled. He hadn’t expected me to agree. He glanced up. Dropped his eyes again. Scrawled his signature with cool, practiced ease. “Suit yourself.” I set the phone on his desk and walked out. At the doorway, I closed my eyes for a moment. My chest hurt. But I didn’t look back. That night, Damien didn’t come to the bedroom. I knew what he was doing. He was waiting. Waiting for me to knock on his study door, red-eyed and trembling. Waiting for me to say the words I’d said a thousand times before. I’m sorry. But this time, I didn’t feel like apologizing. The next morning, I dragged my suitcase down the stairs. He was on the phone. When he saw me, he muttered a quick, “OK, see you the day after tomorrow.” Hung up. I knew exactly who was on the other end. His eyes dropped to my suitcase. Then climbed back to my face. “Where are you going?” “Moving out.” “Moving out?” His mouth curled. “And when are you coming back?” I heard the sneer in it. “I’m not coming back.” His brow furrowed. He rubbed his temple, annoyed. “Olivia, don’t be dramatic. I’m stopping by on my way. That’s all. Is this really worth all the drama?” I looked at him for a long moment. “Yes. It is.” Because it wasn’t just one ticket. It was a ticket every month. For two years. Flight after flight. All to the same place. Charleston. Sophia Reed. I wasn’t making a scene. I was just done. “Since when did you become so petty?” Petty? Maybe. “Yes, Damien. I’m petty.” I held his gaze. “That’s why I’m agreeing to break up.” He hadn’t taken me seriously last night. He’d assumed I couldn’t bear to let him go. For three years, I was the one who chased. The one who apologized. The one who swallowed her pride. He was used to it. Even my friends thought I was wasting myself on him. Damien’s expression hardened. He let out a cold laugh. “Fine. If that’s what you want, we’re done.” So I left. He didn’t call. He never did. He never chased anyone. When he came back from Charleston, I went to see him one last time. Damien didn’t look surprised. He was sure I’d come back. Sure I’d bend again. Three years, and that was the pattern. He waited for me to soften. But this time, I just took off the ring and held it out. “Here. I’m giving this back.”

Damien lowered his eyes. He didn’t take it. He laughed under his breath. That familiar, mocking laugh. “Olivia, you’re even giving the ring back?” Six months ago, he had surprised me with a proposal. The moment that ring slid onto my finger, I finally felt loved. Truly loved. I’d never taken it off. I’d even slept with it. Damien used to tease me for being dramatic about it. “Yes,” I said quietly. “It was never mine to keep.” He went still for a beat. Then the corner of his mouth twitched again. “Keep it. Returning it is a hassle.” A hassle. What wasn’t a hassle to Damien these days? Squeezing in monthly trips to Charleston wasn’t a hassle. Remembering his ex-wife’s birthday down to the hour. Sending her gifts that arrived precisely on time. That wasn’t a hassle either. Dropping every meeting on his desk because she was upset. Leaving me waiting at home with cold dinner on the table. None of that had ever been a hassle. I had never let myself think about it before. I’d told myself: just a little longer. He’ll come around. Until I saw everything in his phone. I’d been wrong. No matter how much I lowered myself. No matter how much of me I gave away. There was a place in his heart that had never belonged to me. It belonged to Sophia. “Keep it yourself,” I said evenly. “Damien, we’re done. For real this time.” The smile faded from his face. “Olivia, knock it off.” “You really think you can let go?” I set the ring down on the entry console. Once, I wouldn’t have been able to. Once, I’d have run after him crying. Even my friends used to ask what was so special about him. What made me keep making myself this small. “Yes,” I said softly. He hadn’t caught it. “What did you say?” I looked up. Met his eyes. “I said—I’m done.” “Damien. We’re over.” He stared at me for two seconds. Then scoffed. “Fine. Whatever you want.” He didn’t believe me. I could see it in his face. But it didn’t matter anymore. At least I wouldn’t have to keep chasing him. At least I wouldn’t have to wonder which night he’d fly to her again. …… Damien and Sophia had grown up together. Everyone thought they were perfect for each other. No one expected them to get divorced. Damien just said it was amicable. No reason. They just weren’t right for each other. When I’d first moved in, I’d seen their wedding photos. I’d also seen Sophia. In person. Damien was working late that night. I was home alone when I heard the fingerprint lock click. I thought it was him. But when I stood up, I saw a pair of unfamiliar, beautiful eyes. She’d blinked, startled. Then she’d smiled. “I’m sorry—I didn’t realize Damien had a girlfriend.” By that point, Damien and I had been together for nearly two years. He’d never told her I existed. I left the ring on the desk and turned to leave. Then a soft, familiar voice came from inside the house. “Damien, who’s at the door?”

For once, Damien looked genuinely flustered. Before he could answer, she walked out. The woman he flew across the country to see every month. Sophia Reed. I hadn’t expected him to bring her into the home we once shared. The moment I moved out, he moved her in. Sophia noticed the ring on the entry table and picked it up naturally. “Wait—isn’t this the one you gave me? What’s it doing here?” I froze. I watched Damien avoid my eyes. And in that moment, I felt how ridiculous I really was. The ring I had treasured for six months. The one I never took off. It was never meant for me. It was the ring he had given his ex-wife. The one she returned to him. The one he then passed to me like a hand-me-down. Damien opened his mouth. No explanation came. Sophia didn’t notice anything wrong. She slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. No wonder it was always loose on me. From the beginning, that ring was never made for me. “Damien, look, it still fits.” She smiled at him. Then seemed to remember I was there. She turned to me with an innocent look. “I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” Damien glanced at me. “No,” he said quietly. “You’re Damien’s girlfriend, right?” She smiled at me again. “We’ve met before.” “You two have met?” Damien frowned at me. I didn’t answer. I turned and left. …… That night, my phone rang. It was him. In three years of fighting, I had always been the one to reach out first. This was the first time he had ever called me. I answered. Said nothing. The silence stretched. I was about to hang up when his voice finally came through. Flat. Controlled. “Sophia’s apartment was broken into recently. She doesn’t feel safe staying there alone. I told her she could stay in the guest room until things are sorted out. Once the apartment is secured, she’ll move out.” He could have put her up in a hotel. He could have hired security. But he chose to let his ex-wife live with him. I gripped the phone. Something cold settled in my chest. “Is there anything else?” I asked. “If not, I’m hanging up.” “Olivia, do we really need to do this?” His voice dropped lower. Edged with that familiar impatience. “What are you actually trying to prove?” “Nothing.” I just didn’t want to do this anymore. I heard a lighter flick on the other end. He was lighting a cigarette. “You’re ending things over a plane ticket?” “Damien, is it really just a plane ticket?” I asked softly. He went quiet. There was no rule that said two divorced people had to disappear from each other’s lives. If it had been one ticket, I would have let it go. But it wasn’t one ticket. It was every month. For two years. And those were just the trips I knew about. What I couldn’t accept wasn’t that he saw her. It was that he had always put her ahead of me. “Olivia, do you have to be this petty?” His voice thinned with the irritation I knew too well. “She’s alone over there. Is it really a crime for me to check on her?” “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d overreact.” I said nothing. He could see whoever he wanted. That was his right. I wasn’t being petty. I just couldn’t keep doing this to myself. He hadn’t even bothered to buy a new ring. Hadn’t bothered to explain. Just expected me to swallow it, smile, and forgive— Because I always had. I opened my mouth to speak. And from his end, a soft voice cut through the line. “Damien? You’re still up?” He went silent instantly. In the second before he hung up, the question I’d been carrying for months finally rose to my lips: “Damien, if you had never met me… would you have remarried her?”

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On the day of our mating ceremony, Silas Blackthorn broke his promise in public, bonded with another woman, and had me thrown out of the ritual hall. He looked at my heartbroken, confused eyes and said coldly, “Serena is carrying my pup. I won’t let my child be mocked because of his status, so I’m bonding with Serena first. That way, the pup can be registered under the Blackthorn bloodline.” “After I dissolve the bond with her, I’ll give you a grand mating ceremony.” Everyone thought I would wait for him again. After all, I had already waited seven whole years. From the boy he used to be, to the Alpha heir he had become. But I was done waiting. That very night, I accepted my family’s arrangement, left the Southern Territory, and went north to marry into the Greystone Pack. From then on, I vanished completely from his world. Three years later, I had to return to Blackthorn Pack. I never expected to run into Silas at the airport. He had no idea I was now the most honored Luna of Greystone Pack. He still thought I was the same miserable woman from three years ago, someone he could mock and humiliate whenever he wanted. He stood in front of me, arrogant as ever. “You’ve made enough of a scene.” “It’s time to come back.” He paused, then added as if it were only natural, “Serena’s child is starting at the pup academy. From now on, you’ll be responsible for picking him up and dropping him off.” … His absurd words almost made me laugh. But the people around him were still sneering. “Look at you. Bare-faced, no fitted dress, no expensive makeup. Looks like these three years have treated you badly.” “You used to care so much about how you looked. Now you show up like this? Don’t tell me that after leaving Silas, you can’t even afford a decent dress.” They burst into laughter. In the past, because Silas liked it, I paid attention to everything. I wore perfect makeup. I chose the most delicate dresses. Because I loved him, I wanted to give him the best version of myself. But now, none of that mattered anymore. Because I was pregnant, my mate, Adrian, wouldn’t let me wear heavy makeup or tight gowns. He said comfort and safety mattered most during pregnancy. The soft dress I was wearing had been custom-made for me by the Greystone Pack tailor. I had no interest in their meaningless mockery. The welcoming banquet for Greystone Pack was about to begin. As Greystone’s Luna, I had to arrive on time. I looked at the name board in their hands. It said Helena. That was the name I used in Greystone Pack. So Silas and Serena had brought these people here to welcome me. They just had no idea that I was Helena. I didn’t want to waste any more time with them. I was about to reveal my identity when Serena spoke first. She looked me up and down, her eyes full of undisguised contempt. “Elena, don’t blame Silas. He’s only doing this to help you.” “After all, you disappeared for three years. Who knows what you went through out there? Who knows which rogues you mixed with?” She sighed hypocritically. “Now that you’ve fallen this low, even working as my nanny would be embarrassing. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” “As long as you take good care of my son, I promise no one will dare look down on you.” Her arrogance disgusted me. But Silas mistook my silence for jealousy. He thought I was still angry about what happened three years ago. A trace of satisfaction flashed through his eyes. His tone became even more condescending. “You should know your place by now. After disappearing for three years, you can never be my Luna again.” He paused, then added lightly, “Serena is being kind. Don’t worry. There are plenty of servant rooms in the manor. You can choose whichever one you like.” As soon as he finished speaking, the people around him burst into malicious laughter. “Elena, see? Silas is so good to you.” “He’s afraid you’ve suffered outside, so he even arranged food and shelter for you.” “You’re only helping Serena take care of her child. Isn’t that better than living in poverty?” “Hurry up and thank Silas.” Serena touched her earrings and pretended to be gentle. “Elena, don’t worry.” “If my son is naughty or disobedient, I’ll discipline him for you. I won’t let you suffer.” Silas let out a low laugh and glanced at me casually. “What suffering could she have?” “She disappeared over one little thing back then.” “Now that she can’t survive outside and has come back, it’s only right that she suffers a little.” Even though I no longer cared about him, my heart still tightened when I remembered the humiliation from that day. So even after three years, he still thought abandoning me at our mating ceremony and bonding with another woman was just one little thing. So the Silas who once loved me had already become unrecognizable three years ago. He was no longer the wolf who had nothing, yet stood under the moonlight and swore he would give me everything. He was no longer the future Alpha who, after gaining power, would still cook soup for me with his own hands and brush my hair. But that was fine. It was all in the past. There was no point mentioning it anymore. After all, I was about to give birth to Adrian’s second child.

I pushed down the emotions surging in my chest. I had no interest in arguing with them. I looked at Silas and said calmly, “Aren’t you here to pick me up?” “Let’s go.” The scene fell silent for a moment. The others exchanged glances. Then, as if they had heard the funniest joke in the world, they burst into laughter. Serena sneered and looked at me with contempt. “Pick you up?” “Elena, who do you think you are?” She pointed at the sign with Helena written on it. “Look carefully. We’re waiting for Helena.” “Do you even know who she is?” Of course I knew. After all, Helena was the name I used in Greystone Pack. But Serena didn’t give me a chance to speak. It was as if she had finally found a way to crush me, and she lifted her chin eagerly. “Helena is the mistress of Greystone Pack.” “She is Alpha Adrian’s true mate.” “Alpha Adrian of Greystone is ruthless and decisive in both the Northern Territory and the business world. But when it comes to his wife, he is completely devoted.” “They say he refused to bond with anyone for years because he was waiting for Helena.” “Everyone in the werewolf world knows that pleasing Alpha Adrian is nothing compared to pleasing his Luna.” “Because Lady Helena is the one he truly holds in his heart.” Listening to their excited discussion, I couldn’t help but smile. In the three years since our mating, Adrian’s power had only grown stronger. Greystone Pack had expanded from the Northern Territory into the South. Even many ancient wolf packs had no choice but to avoid challenging him. But what was even more famous than his power was his reputation for spoiling his wife. Serena had always wanted to show off in front of me. Naturally, she would not miss this chance. She deliberately raised her voice. “I heard that to please Lady Helena, Alpha Adrian once bought a bracelet called ‘Eternal Heart’ at the Black Moon Auction.” “It was worth twenty million.” She paused deliberately, as if afraid I would not understand, then added, “It was made of moon silver and deep-sea sapphires. The entire bracelet is engraved with ancient werewolf protection runes.” “Lady Helena is the envy of every she-wolf in every pack.” At that moment, Serena’s gaze suddenly landed on my wrist. The next second, her voice turned sharp. “That’s the one!” The whole place fell silent. Everyone’s eyes landed on my bracelet. Silas suddenly stepped forward and grabbed my wrist, lifting my hand. His grip was strong, almost painful. He lowered his head to examine it, then sneered. “It’s a pretty good fake.” “Which rogue gave this to you?” “Even his gift is counterfeit. How pathetic.” His eyes were full of mockery. “Trash.” I yanked my hand free, curled my lips, and gently stroked the bracelet on my wrist. It was indeed from Adrian. He had put it on me himself when I was pregnant with our first child. It was his protection charm for me. When Silas saw the faint happiness on my face, his pupils tightened. For some reason, he seemed stung by it. Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist again and tore the bracelet from my arm. I didn’t expect him to attack so suddenly. Before I could react, he had already taken it. “Silas!” My face darkened. But Serena had already stepped forward and taken the bracelet from his hand. She held it in her palm and examined it carefully, greed flashing in her eyes. “It really is more delicate than the fake one I bought.” “But I would never wear a counterfeit in public and embarrass myself.” Then, as if she had thought of something, she laughed mockingly. “Don’t tell me you’re Helena.” “Are you saying you’re the legendary Greystone Luna?” The moment she said that, everyone around us burst into laughter. To them, it was simply too ridiculous. Adrian’s power made every werewolf pack fear him. He was undoubtedly the Alpha King of the entire werewolf world. And I was nothing but the woman who had been abandoned by Silas at the mating ceremony three years ago. A joke who had left in disgrace. No matter how they looked at it, I could never be connected to the mistress of Greystone Pack. Serena hooked the bracelet around her finger and swung it carelessly. “Elena, give me this bracelet.” “I’ll pay double.” Afraid she would drop it, I immediately said coldly, “Give it back.” “Adrian gave that to me.” Before I could finish, Silas slapped me hard across the face. Slap! My face snapped to the side. The taste of blood filled my mouth. Silas glared at me, his expression dark and furious. “Shut up!”

Silas glared at me, furious. There was even a trace of fear in his eyes. “Elena, do you think Greystone Alpha’s name is something you can say whenever you want?” “How dare you spread rumors that you have anything to do with him? Are you trying to get me killed?” His friends immediately surrounded me, glaring at me as if I had committed some unforgivable crime. “Elena, do you even know how hard Silas worked to get this chance to welcome Greystone Luna today?” “The Blackthorn family’s businesses were taken over by Greystone Pack last year. We all depend on Greystone Alpha now.” “And you’re here talking nonsense, claiming you’re connected to Greystone Alpha?” “Are you trying to destroy Silas?” I raised my hand and wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. Then I slowly lifted my head and met Silas’s gaze. Maybe my eyes were too cold. Silas frowned, and for a brief second, panic flashed across his face. When Serena saw the way he looked at me, she immediately glared at me with hatred and pointed at my nose. “Elena, you bitch!” “Silas already agreed to take you in. Don’t repay kindness with betrayal.” “Even if you still resent him for not sealing the mate bond with you back then, you can’t use this kind of lie to get revenge.” Silas frowned and muttered in disappointment, “Jealous woman.” After a moment of silence, he took a check worth two hundred thousand from his pocket and placed it in front of me. “For the sake of what we once had, I won’t punish you.” “Take the money. Buy yourself some decent clothes.” “If you don’t want to take care of the child, I’ll arrange a respectable job for you in a few days.” He paused. His tone was full of condescending charity. “Don’t worry. Since Greystone Pack took over my company, this amount of money means nothing to me anymore.” His charity made me sick. It seemed he really had been doing well these past three years. No wonder he was still so confident when he saw me again. No wonder he still believed I would return to him like before. Under everyone’s shocked gaze, I did not take the check. I only pushed away the hand Silas was holding it with, then took my bracelet back from Serena. After that, I looked at him and smiled faintly. “No, thank you, Mr. Blackthorn.” “I don’t accept things from strangers.” I ignored Silas’s instantly darkened face and turned to leave. But before I could take more than a few steps, Silas grabbed my wrist. His face was cold as he questioned me. “Elena, I’m giving you money, and you still refuse?” “What do you mean by that?” “I’m a stranger to you?” I lowered my eyes and looked at his hand on my wrist. My voice was cold. “We ended three years ago.” “It’s better if we don’t have anything to do with each other.” “Otherwise, people might misunderstand.” I thought of a certain man who got jealous far too easily. If Adrian found out Silas was holding my wrist like this, the entire Blackthorn Pack would probably pay for it. But Silas glanced at Serena, as if he had suddenly understood everything. “I see. You’re still jealous of Serena.” He released me, and his tone became arrogant again. “But do you even know what’s happening tonight?” “The Southern branch is hosting a welcome banquet for Greystone Alpha.” “I was going to take you there to broaden your horizons, but you need to buy a proper gown first.” “Don’t embarrass me.” Before he could finish, I rejected him directly. “No need. Thank you.” When Silas heard me refuse again, his face turned completely cold. His hand froze in midair with the check still between his fingers. His knuckles tightened little by little, as if he had never imagined I would reject him again and again. “Elena, you really have become bold.” “Looks like the poorer you are, the worse your temper gets.” He sneered, anger rising in his voice. “In that case, I really should take you to the banquet.” “I’ll let everyone see how cheap and pathetic you look.” “And I’ll let you stand next to elegant Serena, so you can understand the difference.” He forced me into their car. Since we were going to the same place, I didn’t struggle too much. When the car arrived, Serena’s mocking voice rang out loudly.

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