Author: Momo Chan

My first surgery back in the country was on a girl with a perineal laceration. She signed her consent form with one hand and complained into her phone with the other. “It’s just a minor surgery. Was it really worth dropping a hundred-million-dollar deal to fly back?” “And stop buying me bags and jewelry — my closet is overflowing.” She pushed the form across the desk. My eyes drifted to the emergency contact field. Ethan. I smiled and said: what a coincidence — my boyfriend’s name is Ethan too. The girl grabbed my hand, eyes bright and dancing. “Doctor, are all guys named Ethan such hopeless romantics?” “I’m pretty sure this condition is basically his fault — he’s all over me every day, seven times in one night.” She laughed and shook her head. “And somehow he still found out about the surgery and flew straight back from overseas.” I opened my mouth to say: my Ethan isn’t like that. My Ethan was sharp, driven, serious about his career. The kind of man I always felt I had to earn. Then she shoved her phone in my face to show me her clingy, lovesick boyfriend. My heart dropped into my stomach. The man on that screen — smiling so warmly, so full of affection, completely at ease… …was Ethan. The same Ethan I had been dating for three years. …… My Ethan didn’t cling. Didn’t obsess. In that department, he was always restrained — distant, almost indifferent. The girl — Chloe — kept talking. Every complaint she made dripped with happiness. “Oh, right — Doctor, the form’s already signed. Is there anything else I need to bring?” I held my professional smile in place. “We’ll need your pre-op allergy history on file before we can confirm a surgery date.” She smacked her forehead. “I left that at home from my pre-marriage medical check. Looks like we’ll have to push it back again.” I looked up slowly, fighting the sting behind my eyes. “You’re married? You’re only twenty.” She beamed at me like a child showing off a prize. “Yep! We signed the marriage license last November 20th — my birthday, actually.” “You don’t know how scared he was of losing me. I hadn’t even graduated yet and he was already dragging me to City Hall, like he was afraid I’d run.” She laughed. “He even bought an apartment next to my campus just to stay close. So clingy.” She shook her wrist dramatically, feigning annoyance. Under the desk, my hands wouldn’t stop trembling. November 20th. The day my mother died. I remember every second of it. I called Ethan over and over that day. I wanted to tell him how broken I was. I just needed him to come — a hug, anything at all. What I got was one cold text: “Elena, I’m so sorry. The company is in chaos right now — I can’t get away. Don’t worry, once things settle down I’ll make time to pay my respects.” He wasn’t caught up with the company. He was at City Hall, signing a marriage license with another woman. “Doctor? Doctor?” Chloe’s voice pulled me back. She stood up, a little sheepish, smiling at me. “Should I go home and grab the file?” I was on my feet before I’d made any conscious decision. “I’ll come with you.” She blinked, confused. “Isn’t that too much trouble?” “Not at all. The sooner we operate, the better for your recovery.” We walked downstairs together and got into her car. A custom-fitted Mercedes, the interior immaculate — every detail chosen with obvious care. Even the small things had been thought through. Someone had loved doing this. On the drive over, she told me story after story about her life with Ethan. Island getaways. Trendy restaurants. The nerves and excitement of their first time together. Her smile was so sweet. It was blinding. I stared out the window as fragments of every promise Ethan had ever made me cycled through my head on repeat. The car stopped in front of a gated villa estate. The most prestigious development in the city. The same place Ethan and I had once agreed to buy our future home. We had made that promise together. I never imagined someone else would move in first. Chloe pushed the front door open — and I went still. Every wall, every fixture, every deliberate detail — it was identical to what Ethan and I had mapped out together, late at night, dreaming out loud. I swallowed the bitterness and asked: “Did you design this yourself? It’s beautiful.” Chloe smiled and handed me a glass of water. “No — Ethan did all of it. Surprisingly, it matched my style perfectly.” She pointed toward the bathroom. “He even put a little shelf next to the toilet for my phone — practically custom-made for me.” I stood completely still. My nails pressed into my palm. That shelf was my idea. I’d told him once that I loved having my phone within reach while I soaked in the bath. One winter, the two of us were living in a basement apartment, eating day-old bread. We lay there scrolling through our phones, talking about every small thing we wanted in our future home. I thought that promise was ours. Turns out I was just laying the groundwork for someone else’s life.

Chloe gave me the full tour. I walked through the vision I had built — room by room, for someone else entirely — and every corner felt like a bruise. We reached the second floor. A door flew open and a white poodle came bounding out. “My baby!” Chloe scooped it up. “You always lose your mind when Mommy comes home, don’t you?” Then the dog twisted out of her arms and launched itself straight at me, tail going wild, front paws scrabbling at my legs. I went rigid. It was only then, up close, that I finally saw him clearly. Chloe laughed. “Wow — he seems to really like you. It’s almost like he already knows you?” My throat tightened. “What’s his name?” “Biscuit. He’s five.” She scratched behind his ears, offhand. “I’ve only had him two years, though. Ethan adopted him from a relative — he said he was worried I’d get lonely at home, so he wanted to find me a gentle dog for company.” I laughed. A hollow, quiet sound. Of course he knows me. Biscuit was the last gift my grandmother left me before she died. I raised him for three years. One day he simply vanished. I thought I’d lost him. I cried for days. And Ethan held me. “Stop crying, Elena. I’ll always be here.” Biscuit hadn’t gone missing at all. Ethan had taken him and given him to Chloe. “Look at me, going on and on — I almost forgot why we came.” Chloe pushed open the bedroom door and started hunting for the file. I lingered in the doorway. My attention caught on something stuck to the wall — a handwritten chore chart. Ethan’s handwriting. Neat, precise, unmistakable. Monday through Sunday, every day filled in — laundry, sweeping, tidying up. “What’s this?” My voice came out unsteady. Chloe glanced up, her expression completely casual. “His weekly task list. I have a thing about cleanliness, but I didn’t want to hire a housekeeper — so he handles all of it.” She rested her chin in her hand, fond and a little amused. “Honestly, he’s pretty thorough about it.” I stood there feeling cold from head to toe. When we lived together, we had a housekeeper. But I felt guilty — he worked so hard — so I quietly took over the housework myself. Back then, I was willing to do anything for him. I did it gladly. Every bit of it felt like a joke now. “Found it!” Chloe’s voice snapped me back. “Take a look — does everything seem okay?” I flipped through it mechanically. Every signature line on every page. Ethan. His handwriting — I know it better than my own name. I held the pain down and kept my voice steady. “Everything looks fine. I’ll be in touch about the surgery date.” I turned to go. Chloe caught my arm. “Don’t rush! It’s about to rain, and it’s almost dinnertime.” She grinned. “Stay and eat with us — I’ll have Ethan cook. He’s incredible in the kitchen.” He cooks? In all our years together, I didn’t know he could do that. Before I could say no, she’d already pulled me onto the sofa and was dialing. “Ethan, where are you? I missed you — get home and make dinner.” His voice came through the speaker — familiar, and yet almost unrecognizable. It wasn’t the clipped, guarded tone I knew. This was warm, easy, indulgent. “Sweetheart, I showed up at the hospital with 999 roses to pick you up and you were already gone. You didn’t even tell me. I was worried about you.” 999 roses. In five years together, the most he ever sent me was eleven roses. On my birthday. Ordered by his secretary — after I reminded him. Chloe clicked her tongue. “I’m sorry! I’ll give you a full report next time. Come home — we have a guest. Time to show off, Chef Ethan.” A bright, easy laugh came through the phone. “Yes, ma’am! On my way. Don’t start without me.” I sat on the sofa, completely numb. My nails pressed into my palm until I couldn’t feel it anymore. 999 roses, rushing to the hospital, calling her sweetheart — that open, easy laugh was nothing like the man I thought I knew. None of it had ever been mine. I couldn’t even picture him in an apron. That man with the perfectly pressed suit and the carefully controlled expression, standing in a kitchen and laughing like that. It simply didn’t add up.

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At the Marking Rights Auction, Sloane, my fiancé’s pack-sister, outbid everyone for the first right to mark him. “Silas, we grew up in the same pack together. Your first mark has to be mine.” I let out a cold laugh and slid the bond-ring off my finger, letting it hit Silas’s face. “The Bonding Ceremony is in a week. You represent both packs’ honor. Either step forward and deny this or watch the Thorne pack collapse.” Silas stood there, jaw tight, fist clenched. Sloane cut her eyes at me, sharp with hostility. “The bond isn’t even sealed yet, and she’s already setting rules for you. Imagine how she’ll control you once it is.” He nodded slowly, looking at me like I was a minor inconvenience. “This isn’t the old days, a wolf doesn’t need to be unmarked to mate. Besides, Sloane spent her silver on that bid. Can’t let it go to waste.” I watched that pair of reckless wolves disappear into a private room together, and made my call. “Since he treats the bond like a game, the Thorne pack no longer needs to exist.” — Silas returned to the VIP lounge with his shirt disheveled, finding me just ending a call, watching him without expression. The scent-marks along his throat were impossible to miss under the chandelier light. He dropped into his seat, barely glancing at the gift I’d bid for on his behalf, voice flat. “Elara, Sloane had nothing to do with this. She just didn’t want someone else claiming what’s mine.” “Just?” I scoffed. “Have you forgotten what rank you are now?” Silas ground his teeth and smashed the gift I’d won for him against the table. “Stop using the bond to leash me. It’s not even sealed yet. Sloane only didn’t want someone else’s scent on me—” He stopped mid-sentence. Sloane walked in. She was wearing the jacket I had given Silas — my gift, draped over her shoulders like a trophy. “Elara, don’t misread this. I was only protecting Silas. Maybe if you’d been faster with the bid, things would’ve gone differently.” As she spoke, she deliberately parted her collar, exposing the claiming scratches on her chest. “I’m simply honoring the auction rules. I won the bid — taking what I paid for is perfectly fair, isn’t it?” “That’s enough, Sloane. Head back.” Silas’s gaze swept over me with thinly veiled contempt. “This was always just an alliance bond. I was only… gaining experience, so you’d have an easier time later.” Sloane’s laughter rang out through the lounge, her eyes bright with scorn. She shrugged, utterly unbothered, and said nothing more. I studied Silas’s face and felt a strange distance — like looking at someone I had never known. Three years ago, he had come to me with nothing, kneeling at my feet. “Elara, I’ll do anything. Just help me.” My family was pushing for a bond-match at the time, so he became my answer to their pressure. Then, somehow, we fell into something that felt real. I spent those years building him up so he’d never feel lesser beside me. I personally broke a prior match agreement for him. My family warned me he was no proper fit for an Alpha. I dismissed them. In three years, I raised him from a near-bankrupt Omega to the most talked-about name in the city’s shifter circles. I owed him nothing. And this was how he repaid me? “Elara, I said the bond isn’t sealed. My body, my choice — what business is it of yours?” Silas stood before me, posture arrogant, tone clipped. I gave a soft, indifferent sound and didn’t even look up. “Every Alpha in the city will have eyes on the Bonding Ceremony next week.” “If it falls apart, you’re finished. You really want it to look like this?” “Look like what?” I let my gaze settle on the scent-marks on his throat. “The way it looked when you let Sloane claim what wasn’t hers?” “She’s not blood-related, so it’s not—” “Enough. There’s nothing left to say.” I waved him off, voice cold. “My mate doesn’t let another wolf mark them in a back room.” The resentment rising in his eyes was cut short by a voice at the door — my best friend, Lyra. Lyra spotted the marks on Silas’s throat and shot me a smirk. “Spent a small fortune bidding on your man tonight, and this is what happens?” “What does any of this have to do with her?” Sloane looked at me with contempt, then stepped to Silas’s side and wrapped an arm possessively around his waist. “Silas and I grew up in the same pack together. Elara? Please.” The smile vanished from Lyra’s face. Silas waved at her coolly. “You, out. We’re—” Before he finished, Sloane kissed him, then looked at Lyra with a honeyed smile. “She’s Elara’s friend, isn’t she? No wonder she couldn’t read the room. Couldn’t even scent what was between us.” Her voice climbed, triumphant. “You’d cut ties with someone like that. While I was in there claiming Silas, your precious best friend was standing outside this room, completely shut out. Pathetic.” Crack. Lyra’s palm connected with Sloane’s cheek. Silas lunged forward, eyes bloodshot. “You hit her? Do you have a death wish?” I looked at both of them with cold disgust and turned to Lyra. “Leave it. Don’t dirty your hands.” “Elara, stop here.” Silas grabbed my arm. “You think you can just leave after she strikes someone? Not how this works.” Sloane pressed a hand to her face, seething. “By pack hierarchy, she should be calling me elder. Touch me again and I’ll make sure your Bonding Ceremony never happens.” “You’ll regret this.” She snatched her coat from the couch and slammed the door behind her.

The door hadn’t even swung shut before Silas’s hand cracked across my face. “Elara, what is wrong with you? Over something this small — you think I owe you that much?” “If anything happens to Sloane, you’ll answer for it.” I stared at the unbridled accusation in his eyes and felt my throat tighten. Three years of everything I had given — worth less to him than Sloane’s one moment of temper. I watched him walk away and picked up my phone. “Cut every alliance contract with the Thorne pack. Effective immediately.” I hadn’t been home long when I found Silas and his father waiting in the front hall. “Elara,” his father started, “I heard the alliances were cancelled—” I set the bond-seal on the table between us, face blank. “Not just the alliances. Since you’re both here, just consider this bond dissolved as well.” Silas’s father went pale and nearly lost his footing. “This— the Ceremony is days away. Don’t act out of anger—” I glanced at Silas and laughed quietly. “You already kept a she-wolf at your side like a future mate. Why did you ever need my pack’s alliance?” His father stiffened and looked at Silas. “What is she talking about?” Silas said nothing. I smiled. “Nothing to say? Then let me.” “Your son has been running a forbidden bond with his own pack-sister. Since they’ve been den-mates since pups, she’d make a fine mate. Still family, after all.” Silas’s expression remained flat, unbothered. “Elara, who are you to me now? Since when is any of this your concern?” Three years ago, he knelt before me over his mother’s relic, a piece of her he couldn’t bear to lose, and begged. The always-proud Silas, bowing for the first time. “Elara, just help me please. I’ll stay by your side.” His eyes were stubborn then. There was no warmth in them when he looked at me. Once I gave him what he needed, he kept his distance, voice stiff. “Elara. This is a transaction. Not a bond or feelings.” I was the fool who believed that enough warmth could change that. In three years, Silas used my connections to rebuild his pack from the edge of ruin into one of the city’s rising powers. I understand now — loyalty is like the markets. One-sided investment yields nothing. I gave everything. He kept nothing for me. “I failed as a father.” “After everything the Thorne pack has done in your service — can’t you find it in yourself to give him one more chance—” His father moved to kneel. “Dad. I’ll handle it.” Silas steered him out. When he returned, the look he gave me could have curdled blood. “Elara, it was nothing. Did you really have to use the alliances to threaten my father?” “Threaten?” I laughed. He had a gift for twisting the truth. “I’ve let too much slide. Have you forgotten what it means to betray me?” He stumbled back a step. His phone rang. “Sloane, where are you?” Whatever she said made him look at me with pure hatred. “I swear I’m not marrying her. Just calm down—” He hung up, pulled the bond-seal token from his coat, and threw it on the floor. “Elara — Sloane just drove to the cliffside. She’s threatening to go over the edge because of this bond business. If you have any conscience left, stop pushing us.”

I looked at the naked threat in his eyes and felt something close to amusement. This was the wolf I had protected and cared about for three years — and for a vicious, born-trouble pack-sister, he would say this. The last of my illusions cracked clean. He was exactly what he had always been. “So?” I looked at the bond-seal he’d thrown down. “As you wish. The bond is dissolved. — Escort them out.” Silas trembled with rage. “You’ll pay for this, Elara.” Perhaps stung by the loss, he made his next move by morning. I stepped outside to find my car, my limited-run, one-of-a-kind coupe, reduced to a wreck of twisted metal at my gate. The key fob was gone from the hook inside. Sloane had taken it. My chest went cold. A car, no matter its worth, was replaceable. But hanging from the mirror had been my grandmother’s moonstone amulet, the only relic she left me. Silas called before I could move. “A little gift, Elara. Like it? That’s what happens when you provoke Sloane.” I stared at the wreckage, voice low. “Where is the amulet?” His tone dripped with disdain. “Want it back? Come get it yourself.” “Silas. Touch that amulet and I promise you that you will not survive what comes next.” He scoffed. “Drop the act. You’re just a pampered Alpha playing house. The Thorne pack runs this city now. Come at us.” I had my driver take me to the Thorne estate, jaw set. My phone rang again. I nearly declined — then saw the name and drew a slow breath before answering. Killian’s voice came through, carrying its usual stillness. “Elara. The bond ceremony — are you certain it’s not a reaction?” I pressed two fingers to my temple. “Do I seem like the type to gamble a pack alliance on a reaction?” “No,” he said, and there was a quiet smile in it. “But you seem like the type who let a man cloud your instincts.” “That’s why I came to a clear-headed ally.” “Your pack wants the European territory. My channels are the fastest route. We both gain.” Killian was quiet for a moment. “I don’t want a cold alliance built on broken bonds.” “From today, that’s not what this is.” I told the driver to move faster and added, almost as an afterthought, “See you at the Bonding Ceremony.” I’d barely ended the call when a horn screamed from somewhere close. A truck — moving like something had cut its brakes — came directly at the rear of my car, headlights blinding. Impact. The frame buckled. Heat bloomed down the side of my face. The pain swallowed my vision. Through the shattered window, I saw Sloane stumble out of the truck’s cab — and in her hand, something glowed with a soft, familiar light. My grandmother’s moonstone amulet. “This looks expensive,” she said. I tried to drag myself out. My ribs wouldn’t allow it — every movement sent white fire through my body. “Put it down—” “Put it down?” She kicked my crumpled door. “You clung to Silas for three years. When are you going to let us go?” She raised her arm and brought the amulet down against the asphalt. The crack of it split through me. “Sloane!” Blood rose in my throat. “That belonged to my grandmother—” “Doesn’t matter who it belonged to.” She grabbed my blood-soaked collar and hauled me toward the open air. She jabbed at the marks on her own throat. “These are Silas’s marks. He said no one else gets to touch him — ever.” “Did you really think he loved you? You were a funding source. That’s all.” Her voice grew louder, sharper, high with excitement. “You know what you are? A stepping stone. The ladder Silas and I used to climb. Crook his finger and you’d hand over your life.” She looked down at me and began to laugh — wild, unhinged. “Elara. You love him so much — why don’t you die for him today?” Then she grabbed a fistful of my hair and drove my head into the ground.

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I signed the surgical consent forms myself. Didn’t tell Mom and Dad. I thought I could just die quietly under anesthesia. No more suffering from this disease. But the moment that mask came down over my face, I heard Jason’s voice: “Last time. Once Emma finishes the principal dancer audition, we won’t need to give Ruby the injections anymore.” Mom was crying her heart out. “But Ruby is only eighteen. What about the rest of her life!” “Mrs. Carter, it won’t ruin her whole life.” Jason’s voice was low, guilty and stubborn. “Just one year. After Emma gets into that ballet company, I’ll help Ruby train for next year.” “I’ll coach her through everything she missed. Whatever company she wants, I’ll go with her. It’s just one year. She can catch up.” Dad’s voice was shaking. “So… do we give her the shot today?” “Yes.” Jason was silent for a few seconds. “Let her sleep another month. She’ll miss this audition, and once Emma gets her contract, I’ll make it up to Ruby. I’ll give her back her life.” So I never had a muscle-wasting illness. It was that “vitamin shot” that made my muscles deteriorate. That “supplement” kept me drowsy. He said he’d make it up to me in a year. He didn’t know that before entering the operating room, I’d already swallowed an entire bottle of paraquat. … The operating room lights were bright. Glaring white, hurting my eyes. I lay on the operating table, covered with a green sheet. Cold. So cold. The anesthesiologist walked over, holding a transparent mask. “Don’t be nervous, Ruby. Just a few breaths and you’ll fall asleep.” I nodded. I clutched a small bottle in my palm. The bottle was already empty. Half an hour earlier, in the changing room, I drank all of that paraquat. No one noticed. Mom and Dad were waiting in the corridor. Jason was there too. He was my boyfriend and my childhood best friend. We’d known each other for eighteen years. He told me, Ruby, don’t be scared, after this surgery, your illness will be cured. He told me, Ruby, when you get better, I’ll take you to the ocean. He told me, Ruby, I’ll always be with you. But now he was saying in a low voice, “Last time. Once Emma finishes the audition, we won’t need to give Ruby the injections anymore.” I always thought Jason was the best person in the world to me. We grew up together. When we were kids, he protected me, chased away the boys who bullied me. When we got older, he took care of me. Brought me my bag on rainy days, helped me with technique before performances. Until a year ago, when I started having frequent back pain. I went to the hospital for tests. The doctor said it might be a muscle disorder and needed further diagnosis. During that time, Jason was especially concerned about me. He came to see me every day after rehearsal, brought me snacks, and chatted with me. “Ruby, don’t worry. Whatever this is, I’ll be with you.” Later, Jason said he knew a specialist who treated neurological disorders, and told me to try seeing him. Mom and Dad were happy and took me right away. That specialist did all kinds of tests at the hospital, then looked at the results with a serious expression. “Muscle degeneration. Already at the stage where you need intervention.” Mom and Dad cried on the spot. I cried too. Jason stood beside me, holding my hand. “Ruby, don’t be scared. I’m here.” Looking back now, his hand was warm. But his heart was cold.

After that, the long “treatment” began. One “vitamin shot” every week. One “supplement” every day. One “therapy session” every month. Those “treatments” made me weaker and weaker. After each shot, my legs would go soft. I couldn’t walk steady. After drinking the supplement, I’d sleep drowsily for an entire day. A year passed. I didn’t get better. I got worse. I used to be able to dance a full variation. Now I could barely sit up in bed. I used to be top of the academy. Now I couldn’t even read—the words swam in front of my eyes, I couldn’t focus no matter what. I asked Jason, “Why am I getting worse with treatment?” He said, “It’s a normal reaction. Means the medicine is working. Just bear with it, you’ll get better.” I asked my parents, “Mom, when will I get better?” Mom’s eyes turned red. She didn’t speak. Dad turned around, pretending to look out the window. I dropped out. Spent all day lying in bed, like a useless person. Mom and Dad took turns taking care of me—feeding me, washing me, changing my clothes. Mom’s hair went half white. Dad’s back bent. Once, when Mom was washing me, she suddenly cried. “Ruby, Mom is sorry. Mom didn’t take good care of you.” I reached out to wipe her tears. “Mom, it’s not your fault. My body just isn’t good.” Mom cried harder. I held her in my arms, gently patting her back. What I didn’t know was that Mom was crying not because of my illness. It was because she knew I wasn’t sick. I thought they felt bad for me. Now I know—they couldn’t bear to look at me.

The night before the surgery, I made a decision. I took all my savings and put them in an envelope. On the envelope, I wrote: Mom, this is the money I saved over the years. It’s not much, but you can use it. I organized all my choreography journals, checking them page by page. Those journals were from freshman to senior year of high school, four years of work. Every technique, every combination, key points marked in red, difficult parts marked in blue. I put them in a box. On the box, I wrote: Dad, please donate these journals to the academy, maybe someone can use them. Then I wrote a letter. Very short. Just a few lines. “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry. I’m too tired. Take care of yourselves. Don’t blame me.” I put the letter under my pillow. Then I took out that small bottle. Jason had left it at my house the last time he came. He said it was a “booster” for the vitamin shots and told me to keep it. On the bottle was one word: Paraquat. I didn’t know what it was at the time. Later, I looked it up. Paraquat. Lethal pesticide. No antidote. After drinking it, your lungs slowly turn to scar tissue. You suffocate to death. The whole process lasts from several hours to several days. You’re conscious, but can’t breathe. I held that bottle in my hand all night. I didn’t hate my parents. I knew they’d had it hard. When they were young, they were too poor to raise two kids, so they could only give one away. All these years, they’d been living with guilt. Especially toward my sister. They always felt they owed her. Always felt they’d failed her. Always wanted to find a chance to make it up to her. Now the chance had come. Jason gave them a solution. No money needed. No effort needed. Just let me “rest for a year.” The morning of the surgery, Mom and Dad came to the hospital. Mom’s eyes were red and swollen. Clearly, she’d cried all night. Dad’s lips were trembling, but he forced out a smile. “Ruby, don’t be scared. After this surgery, you’ll be fine.” “Okay,” I said. Jason came too. “Ruby, hang in there. After the surgery, I’ll take you to see the ocean.” “Okay,” I said. I lay on the gurney, wheeled into the operating room corridor. The corridor was long, the lights bright. Mom followed behind, walking until she reached the “Family Stop Here” sign. “Ruby! Mom will wait for you outside!” I turned my head and looked at her. “Mom.” “Yes?” “I love you.” Mom froze for a moment. Tears fell. “I love you too.” I turned my head and was wheeled into the operating room.

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Cameron and I started dating in college. Eight years together. With the wedding weeks away, he finally said what he’d been holding back. He wanted his first love, Jade Sullivan, to move in with us. He wanted a wife and a mistress under the same roof. I kept my voice steady through the rage. “So you want Jade to be your mistress?” Cameron shook his head. “She’s not the mistress, Vicky. You are.” I stared at him, unable to process what I’d just heard. Had he lost his mind? Did he seriously think he could make the only heiress of the Ashford Group the other woman? — Seeing my silence, Cameron mistook it for hesitation. His voice softened into something coaxing. “Jade’s gentle. She doesn’t have family money or connections — if she’s not my wife, she’ll suffer for it.” “So your solution is to make me suffer instead?” The fury hammered at my temples, but my voice came out ice-cold. Cameron frowned, visibly annoyed by the pushback. “Vicky, this isn’t what I want either. But Jade has no one. I have to look out for her.” “You’ll both be mine — I’ll treat you equally. Jade is sweet. She won’t make your life difficult, I promise.” When he was pursuing me, he swore I was the only woman he’d ever want. Now, with the wedding right around the corner, he wanted to play house with two of us? So ridiculous. A mistress was just a secret kept in the dark — so what exactly did that make me? I stepped back and looked at him like something I’d scraped off my shoe. “Mr. Holt, I think you should leave. If your heart belongs somewhere else, there’s no wedding to plan.” Cameron let out a long-suffering sigh, watching me the way you watch a child throwing a tantrum. “Victoria. Both families have sent out invitations. The venue is booked. If you back out now, what does that do to your reputation? Don’t say things you don’t mean.” I was shaking with fury. Jade had been circling him for years, and she’d timed this perfectly — right before the wedding, when she calculated I’d be too trapped to walk away. “So by your logic,” I said, “should I actually be grateful? That you didn’t just show up on our wedding day and surprise me with her at the church?” Cameron’s expression darkened. “It’s just a title. You’re an Ashford — no one would dare disrespect you. Why does it matter so much?” “Besides, what successful man settles for one woman? I know how big your heart is. Don’t act like those bitter, jealous girls. That’s beneath you.” I closed my eyes. Counted to three. Didn’t make it. I slapped him across the face — full force. His cheek went red and swollen instantly. Cameron grabbed his face, staring at me like I’d detonated something. “Victoria! Have you lost your mind!” “Every guest in Chicago knows you’re about to marry me. If you walk away from this engagement, no one will touch you — ever.” “You hear me? This wedding is happening whether you like it or not.” “And if you want any future in this family, you’ll go home and tell your parents you voluntarily stepped aside.” I studied him for a long moment, expression frozen. So that’s why he came today. My parents were away on a business trip to Europe. He’d timed it. He wanted me cornered. Wanted to walk away clean while I took the fall. Then it hit me, and I almost laughed. “What’s my full name?” I asked. Cameron blinked. “Victoria Ashford? Have you completely lost it?” I raised my hand. The security team that had been waiting at a distance came jogging over immediately. “When we were dating, I didn’t mind you calling me Vicky.” The memory of his nerve made something between fury and laughter rise in my chest. “But from this moment on — you address me as Miss Ashford.” “Throw him out.” Two of my guards hooked him under the arms and started dragging him toward the door. Cameron twisted around, face disbelieving. “You dare? I’m going to be her husband!” I let out a short, contemptuous laugh. “Why wouldn’t we dare? If I wanted to, I could line up every eligible man in Chicago from here to the airport. Cameron Holt — who exactly do you think you are?” “Let me show you exactly why I run this city.” I looked at my guards and said it again, slower. “Throw him out.”

Cameron stormed back to his family home and walked straight into his mother, Eleanor, who’d heard the news and come rushing in. Eleanor took one look at his expression and opened her mouth, but Cameron cut her off, barely containing his anger. “This is all your fault. You’re the one who pushed me to bring Jade in. Now look what happened — I went over there and got humiliated.” Eleanor listened to the whole story, her opinion of me souring by the minute. She made a private note to put me in my place once I was officially her daughter-in-law. For now, she kept her voice gentle. “Vicky’s just spoiled. Nothing like sweet Jade. Everyone in Chicago knows she has a temper. She should be grateful to marry into this family.” “She’s young. She doesn’t know better. Give it a few days.” “I’ll personally send her an invitation to come over and have a proper conversation about why having Jade here benefits her.” “Once she understands, she’ll come back and apologize on her own.” The moment I kicked Cameron out, I had my assistant put through an international call to my parents, who were still in Europe scouting projects. Then I got in the car and drove up to my grandfather’s estate on the hill to vent. I assumed that would be the end of it — the Holts and I, done for good. Then, a few days later, I received an invitation to their cocktail party. My secretary and assistant both begged me not to go. I refused. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I hide?” I’d barely stepped out of the car at the Holt estate when a woman in a white dress materialized in front of me — soft features, practiced fragility. Jade Sullivan. She tilted her head, brows delicately furrowed, voice honeyed and barbed at once. “Miss Ashford, everyone here tonight is someone important in Chicago. Did you really come dressed like that?” “Even if you’re upset with me, you shouldn’t embarrass Cameron and the Holts in front of their guests.” I gave her one cold look and kept walking. In this city, I wear what I want. No one tells me otherwise — not unless they share my last name. I pulled out my phone and dialed. “Mr. Walsh? Tonight’s Holt cocktail party — they’re using the ballroom at one of our Ashford properties, correct?” “Clear the venue. Now. Bill any damages to my account.” Jade went white. Cameron came rushing out from inside, catching the tail end of the call. He looked at Jade, eyes soft with pity as she trembled on the verge of tears, then turned on me. “Victoria! Jade came out here to welcome you, and this is how you treat her?” I looked at the crowd already forming around us. “Welcome me?” I said, voice carrying cleanly. “In what capacity, exactly? As the future lady of the Holt house? Because from the outside, it looks like she’s already moved in.” The murmurs started instantly. “Isn’t that the woman who’s always at Mr. Holt’s side? When did she become official?” “Even a girlfriend doesn’t get to receive guests on the family’s behalf. The etiquette here is…” “His actual fiancée is standing right there. And she’s already playing hostess?” Cameron’s face shifted. He stepped toward me and reached for my hand. I moved away. “Enough,” he said under his breath. “Do you have to push this far? Do you want to ruin Jade’s reputation?” Eleanor materialized from inside, swooping in with her damage-control smile. “Goodness, can’t this be settled inside? Why are we making a scene at the front door?” She turned and gave Jade a performative scolding. “And you — Vicky can wear whatever she likes. Who asked for your opinion?” Jade’s eyes flickered with something raw, but her face smoothed back into gracious contrition. She dipped her head toward me. “I overstepped, Miss Ashford. Please don’t hold it against Cameron.” The display made Cameron’s heart ache with sympathy for Jade and harden further against me. He was already deciding: after the wedding, he’d make me feel it. Eleanor tried to reframe the entire confrontation as a lovers’ quarrel, nothing more. A few guests began to play along, murmuring for peace. “Miss Ashford, let’s call it even — do me a favor, let it go.” Someone else lifted their chin in quiet judgment. “A little grace goes a long way, Miss Ashford. No need to be so unforgiving.”

I laughed and let my gaze move slowly across the crowd before settling on Eleanor and Cameron. “Perfect. I’d like everyone here to be my witnesses.” “Mrs. Holt. Cameron. Last week, you came to my home and asked me to step down as his wife.” “You wanted a three-way arrangement — and you wanted me to be the one at the bottom. Did that happen or not?” I didn’t come to any cocktail party. I came here to burn it down. Eleanor’s face drained. She shot a vicious glance at Jade, suddenly understanding someone had been running their mouth. “That’s absolutely not true,” she rushed out. “The Ashford-Holt union is a partnership between two great families. There was never any—” I watched Cameron and Jade’s eyes slide to the floor, and smiled without warmth. “Oh? So even the Holts know how outrageous this is?” “I was starting to think you’d decided the Ashford name was something you could step on.” All three of them went pale. Cameron’s voice lost its edge. “Vicky, you misunderstood. The Holts never intended—” “Didn’t they?” I raised an eyebrow. “So the request for me to become the other woman — that came from nowhere?” “It was a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding—” Eleanor began to insist. I pressed forward. “And Jade receiving guests at the door as though she owns this house — that was a misunderstanding too?” Silence. Cameron grabbed my wrist, grip tight enough to hurt. “Victoria, you’ve made your point. After the wedding you’ll be a Holt — if this family looks bad, you look bad. Know when to stop.” Jade’s eyes glistened on cue, her expression the very portrait of wounded endurance. I felt nothing. I had known from the start that Cameron carried a torch for someone else. For years, I’d felt sorry for Jade’s situation — every holiday, I sent her designer bags, high-end perfume, the kind of gifts that required real thought. Even when Cameron gave her more of his time and tenderness than he ever gave me, I never said a word. I told myself he felt sorry for her. Turns out, they’d been at it behind my back for years. And I’d been playing the fool. Then Eleanor did what she always did when losing: she cried. “This is all my fault. Blame me.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Jade has been on her own since she was a girl — no parents, no safety net.” “She’s getting older, and I couldn’t bear to see her with no future.” “So I asked Cameron to bring it up with you. A place in this home, after you were married. That was all I wanted for her.” She turned and gave Cameron a theatrical glare, blaming him for the framing, then continued. “I assumed Vicky was generous enough that she wouldn’t refuse.” “I let Jade begin learning how things run here, so she could be useful to you, so no one in this house would look down on her.” “I wanted to give a good girl some dignity, not cause her suffering.” “If Vicky isn’t comfortable with it, we drop it entirely. I only worry for Jade. She may spend her whole life alone.” The crowd shifted. Sympathetic eyes drifted toward Jade. The looks aimed at me turned cold.

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Years ago, a nurse swapped the name tags on incubators at the hospital. So several babies were switched at birth. And it turned out my fiancé’s sister was my biological sister. I thought it was fate bringing us closer, but Sterling had other plans. The night before our wedding, he said, “She’s been pampered her whole life. Going back to your family has been hell for her.” “I need to marry her first. Give her the title of wife to protect her. That way, the real Astor daughter we just brought home won’t make a fuss.” I stood frozen as he continued. “You’re different. You’ve been through worse. You’re strong and you can handle anything.” “Give me two years. Once she’s settled, we’ll have our wedding ceremony.” He expected me to scream and cry. To cave like I always did. Instead, I cut him off. “Got it. I’ll be sure to congratulate you and my sister tomorrow.” Those words made him freeze. All his rehearsed speeches, all his moral blackmail stuck in his throat. “You’re serious? If you’re not okay with this, just say so. Don’t be passive-aggressive. That makes me more worried.” I didn’t understand what he had to worry about. Hadn’t I always given in before? Every time, he’d push forward one step, I’d step back one step. Until I had nowhere left to go, and I’d nod and say “fine.” I lowered my hand from my stomach where it had unconsciously drifted. “Yes. I’m serious.” “Tomorrow’s ceremony goes ahead as planned. Just swap out the bride. No need to change the program.” He was suspicious, but he didn’t want to dig deeper now. Because he was afraid I’d change my mind. He reached out and patted my head. “I knew you’d understand.” “Blair was my sister before. Now she’s yours. We’re all family.” “It’s just that wild girl we brought back from your family who doesn’t know her place. Always crying that Blair stole twenty years of her life. Demanding we throw her out.” “We’ll still go to City Hall as planned, okay?” “As for the wedding ceremony…” “Once Blair’s settled, we’ll throw you a proper celebration.” “Got it,” I interrupted. “Go home. You’re the groom tomorrow. Get some rest.” I turned and tossed the crumpled invitation mockup into the trash beside me. He stared at me for two seconds. Satisfied I showed no anger or hurt, he finally left. The moment the door closed, I opened my phone. [Your marriage registration appointment has been successfully canceled.] Then I pulled up an email from across the Atlantic. Read it eight more times. And I typed back: [I accept.]

At three in the morning, noise from the living room woke me up. I cracked my door open and saw Blair curled up on the couch in nothing but a white button-down shirt, her bare legs tucked under her, sipping milk. Sterling crouched in front of her, massaging her feet. “My sweetie, how many times do I have to tell you not to walk barefoot on these tiles?” “You call me at this ungodly hour saying your feet hurt, so I rush over here like a madman. Don’t you know I have important business tomorrow?” Blair giggled and whined, “Well, tomorrow you will be my husband instead of my brother. I’m nervous.” He flicked her forehead. “I can be whoever you want. Just go to sleep. I need to get ready.” She tilted her head, batting her eyes at him. “You came all this way. Aren’t you going to see Harper?” “She spent forever throwing up in the bathroom today. She’s obviously still upset about all this.” Sterling paused mid-step. “She’s fine.” His tone was flat. “She’s not as delicate as you. She’ll be fine once she gets it out of her system.” “Besides, I need her help tomorrow. She planned the entire ceremony. She knows every detail. Let her sleep.” He reached out and tapped her nose. “You worry too much. You’re the bride tomorrow. Get some rest.” Blair giggled and swatted his hand. “Okay, okay. Go back and get ready.” I stood behind the door, caught between pathetic and absurd. Six months ago, my parents demanded Sterling give them fifty thousand dollars upfront for “family expenses.” They weren’t satisfied with the amount we’d agreed on and kept calling, threatening to cause a scene at his office. I refused to ask him for more money and got into a screaming match with my father. He grabbed his belt and beat me until I couldn’t stand up anymore. That night was late too and I couldn’t take the pain anymore and called Sterling. All he said was, “That’s just how your parents are. I’ll give them whatever they want. Don’t fight them on it. I’ll come get you tomorrow.” That night, I was in agony. But he never came. Because the person who could make him rush over at three in the morning was never me. I was about to turn back to bed when Blair brought up something else, laughing. “By the way, I really have to thank my sister for planning this whole ceremony for us.” I froze. “She originally chose champagne gold as the color scheme, but you fought for pink instead. This is literally my dream wedding.” Sterling’s voice was indulgent. “As long as you’re happy.” My heart, which I thought had gone numb, twisted sharply. For this wedding, I spent three months visiting every event planner in the city. In the end, just because he said “pink suits a wedding better,” I stayed up all night redoing the entire plan. Back then, I thought he had a romantic side and wanted to make him happy. Turns out, even the wedding was someone else’s stage. I wasn’t the bride. I wasn’t even a guest. Just a tool. A tool who would show up tomorrow to greet guests, oversee the program, and make sure everything ran smoothly. I walked back to bed in a daze. Blair’s laughter filtered through the door, muffled and grating. It echoed in my head like a curse.

At dawn, the bridal car arrived downstairs. As the discarded bride, I had already been forgotten. Sterling carried Blair out of her room in his arms. Several groomsmen followed behind them, muttering as they walked. They weren’t far. Every word reached my ears. “I thought I was drunk last night and heard wrong. Can’t believe they actually swapped the bride.” “You guys didn’t know? They had the invitations printed in duplicate from the start. One set with Harper’s name, one with Blair’s. They planned for this all along.” “Man, I thought Harper would throw a fit. A girl from her background, finally landing a guy like this, and she just hands him over to her sister? She’ll never get another shot at this family now.” “She’s really generous. No wonder she’s stuck with Sterling all these years.” “She probably knows throwing a tantrum won’t change anything.” They all laughed. Sterling carried Blair to the car. When he heard that last comment, he stopped walking. He gently set Blair in the backseat, then turned to face the groomsmen. “What are you all running your mouths about?” The groomsmen shut up, looking sheepish. “Harper is strong. Blair’s been spoiled her whole life. She can’t handle hardship.” “If I don’t protect her, how is she supposed to survive?” One of Sterling’s closer friends spoke up with a grin. “Alright, alright. She’s your real wife.” “We all know this ceremony is just for show. You and Harper are going to make it legal the day after tomorrow, right?” He winked. “That’s the real commitment. Once you sign those papers, she’s not going anywhere.” Only then did Sterling nod with satisfaction and duck into the car. I stood in the shadows, watching him close the door. The bridal car started up. All I could hear in my head was that phrase: “She can’t handle hardship.” Blair grew up in the Astor household, pampered and spoiled. Of course she couldn’t handle hardship. But why should I? Growing up, my parents grabbed me by the hair and called me a worthless bitch. If it weren’t for mandatory public education, I wouldn’t have even had the chance to go to school. Later, I worked my ass off to get into the best high school in the city, but they refused to give me living expenses. I survived on bread for every meal. Sterling knew all of this. When I got into college out of state, I never planned on coming back. Aside from sending money home every month, I cut off all contact. Never visited. Never called. Those years were the most peaceful of my life. Nobody hit me. Nobody screamed at me. Nobody barged into my room in the middle of the night demanding cash. I thought I had escaped. Until two years ago, when Sterling took me home to meet his parents for the first time. His mother made herself clear right away. “The Astors are a respected family. Our daughter-in-law’s family needs to present well. We can’t have people gossiping.” Sterling pulled me aside and begged, “Harper, just move back in with your parents for now. Do it for us. Just bear with it until my mother agrees to the marriage.” To avoid making things difficult for him, I moved back in with my parents and played the part of a harmonious family. For the past two years, to keep the peace, whenever my mother demanded money, I gave it. When my father lost at the tables, I covered his debts. When the neighbors praised me, saying “your daughter’s done so well for herself,” my mother beamed and said, “Of course. My girl’s marrying into the Astor family.” She forgot all the times she called me a worthless bitch. But I didn’t. I thought all of this had an endpoint. Once we were married, Sterling and I would build our own family, far away from them. If they caused trouble then, they’d be dealing with the Astors’ in-laws. Sterling would shield me. But now the wedding cars drove off, and I was left behind in this house.

At three in the afternoon, the whole family got ready to attend the wedding ceremony. My brother Tyler fumbled with his tie, grinning like an idiot. “Blair’s got it made. Grew up over there, now she’s marrying back in.” “Damn, wish I was the one they swapped at birth. Could’ve been a rich kid too.” “Shut your mouth.” My mother shot him a look. “Polish your shoes.” I sat quietly on the couch, saying nothing. Blair was different from the other babies. The other babies were passively switched. Only she was actively abandoned. The day my mother gave birth to her, she didn’t even pay the hospital bill, left the baby on the bed and snuck out. She never imagined that the daughter she discarded would be switched into the Astor family and raised as their precious princess for all these years. When Blair first came back, she cried every single day. When no one else was around, I told her the truth. “Biology doesn’t trump upbringing. They never wanted you in the first place. These bloodsucking parasites aren’t worth keeping as family.” “You’ve had an elite education at the Astors’ for years. You can stand on your own two feet.” Her eyes were red, so I thought she understood. Until Sterling showed up at my door, his face dark. “Blair says you told her to move out. That you think she’s a burden. That you look down on her.” “Harper, I let it slide when you targeted her before, but now you share the same blood. Are you really going to push her out like this?” I stood there stunned. What he said had nothing to do with what I meant. But I wasn’t surprised. This had happened too many times before. Back when Blair was still “Blair Astor,” she pulled the same tricks. The first time I met his parents, she spent the whole dinner piling food onto my plate with a smile. My plate filled up with foods I was allergic to. I didn’t want to embarrass her, so I forced down a few bites but still left half the plate untouched. Afterward, I rushed to explain to her that I was allergic to those foods. She smiled and said she understood. Then turned around and cried to Sterling. Told him I looked down on the food she picked for me. Another time, the three of us went out to eat. She leaned against Sterling, acting coy, making him cut steak and feed her. When the server brought our dishes, she smiled and said, “Your girlfriend and you make such a sweet couple.” I set down my knife and corrected her. “They’re siblings.” The next day, Sterling showed up again, his tone weary. “She cried for hours last night. Why were you so quick to clarify our relationship? Do you not like her?” After enough incidents like that, I stopped explaining. I just tried to show him through my actions that I didn’t have the ulterior motives his sensitive little sister claimed I did. Now they weren’t biologically related anymore and his accusations came flooding back. I wanted to explain. But when I saw that look in his eyes—that “here we go again” expression—I suddenly didn’t want to say anything at all. Did he really not know what kind of people my parents were? Did he really not understand why I told Blair to move out and support herself? He knew but he just didn’t care what I thought. Over the past two years, I’d seen Blair curled up in bed with Sterling in nothing but a thin nightgown, reading together. I’d seen him hold her in his arms and wipe away her tears. Every single time, I wanted to scream. But every single time, I told myself to wait. Just wait until they each got married to other people. Then, the night before the wedding, he sat me down and seriously discussed marrying her instead, and I finally understood— Even after marriage, nothing would change. My hand drifted unconsciously to my stomach. This was the only thing in the world that was truly, completely mine. Growing up, I got beaten, screamed at, starved. I had no choice in that. But this child was different. I couldn’t let it grow up being weighed, measured, and always at risk of being discarded. When it was just me, I could endure any suffering. Bloodsucking family. A boyfriend with no boundaries. A future sister-in-law who targeted me at every turn. But now that I had this baby, I couldn’t do it anymore. My phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s a reminder about tonight’s flight. I stood up, ready to leave. My mother’s face changed. “Where do you think you’re going? Didn’t we already say you don’t need to attend the wedding ceremony?” Before I could answer, she started in on me. “You’re pathetic. Couldn’t keep your man, and now you want to crash your sister’s wedding and cause a scene?” “Give it up. They’ve been inseparable since childhood. Now they’ve found out they’re not related by blood. What makes you think you ever had a chance?” “I’m not going.” I cut her off. She froze, clearly not believing me. After staring at me for a long moment, something strange crossed her face. “Sterling was right about you after all.”

She clicked her tongue twice. “He called us this morning specifically to warn us. Said you’re stubborn and we need to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t do anything stupid.” She grabbed my wrist and yanked. “Come on. You’re coming with us.” I stumbled. “I already told you I’m not going.” “Not going?” My mother let out a harsh laugh. “And leave you alone here? You think I trust you to behave?” “The second we leave, you’ll run over there and make a scene. Where does that leave us? You’re coming. I’m watching you.” She shoved me toward the door. … The wedding was held at a luxury hotel owned by the Astor Corporation. My parents flanked me on either side. Onstage, Blair held onto the groom’s arm, her eyes crinkling with her smile. Sterling reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face. The crowd below started chanting, “Kiss her! Kiss her!” He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. My mother leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Look how perfect they are together. Stop holding onto something that was never yours.” I didn’t respond. When she first found out the great Sterling Astor was my boyfriend, she said the exact same thing. The officiant launched into a sentimental speech about childhood sweethearts and destiny, about obstacles overcome by true love. I lowered my head and pulled my lips into something resembling a smile. This officiant was one I had personally selected from the top ten in the city. He certainly knew how to work a crowd. Childhood sweethearts that was them. I was the obstacle in their love story. I looked around the ballroom. The crystal chandeliers were the exact color temperature I had chosen. The centerpieces were arrangements I had selected. The background music was from a playlist I had built. Every single party favor had been carefully curated by me. A wedding I planned with my own hands, only to watch him marry someone else. Suddenly, I thought maybe this is for the best. I got to close this chapter myself. My phone buzzed in my bag. The screen lit up. 9:45 PM flight to… I stared at the notification and felt relief. My hand brushed lightly over my stomach. Soon, I would have family tied to me by blood and a career worth building. My heart finally felt like it had somewhere to land. I turned off the screen and stood up to leave.

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My late mother’s hairband appeared as a prize at the pack’s ice hockey tournament. My mate，Westridge pack’s next Alpha, had promised to win first place and bring it back for me. But he broke his word. He deliberately lost to the alpha’s son of the Northern Border pack, just to claim the second-place prize — a flowing celestial gown. It was something my omega-blooded half-sister had been coveting for a long time. My mate said with a helpless, indulgent smile, “Lily’s wolf awakening ceremony is coming up. It’s the only thing she wants, and I promised to give it to her.” My half-sister slipped into the gown, smug and coy as she turned to me. “Elder sister, isn’t it bad luck to keep things that belonged to a dead woman?” My mate tried to soothe me. “When I come to propose, I’ll have a custom piece made for you at the Silver Moon Jewelers — even more beautiful than your mother’s.” It was too late. Because before she died, my mother had said: whoever presented the hairband as a betrothal gift would have my hand in marriage. Three days later, I would be the wife of the Northern Border alpha’s son. ……….. “Second place in the ice hockey tournament — Nathaniel Voss, alpha’s son of the Westridge pack. His prize: one flowing celestial gown.” I stood on the viewing platform, watching a servant present the gown to Nathaniel, and felt as though I had been plunged into ice. He had finally broken his word. The scene I had witnessed before the match was still vivid in my mind. It was my half-sister, Lily Harmon, who had intercepted Nathaniel near the locker room, pulling at his sleeve with a pitiful expression. “Nate, my wolf awakening ceremony is in three days. Could you please give me that gown as a gift?” “My elder sister is the alpha’s daughter, born of the luna. Her awakening ceremony will be grand and celebrated. I’m only omega-blooded — I can’t compare to her. But I want beautiful things too.” “My mother is a mistress. People look down on us. If I could wear the prize gown gifted by the lycan king’s daughter herself to my ceremony, people would finally see my mother differently.” “I’m asking for just this one thing. Will you do it, Nate?” “I have nothing. Just this once, I want to win something.” Her eyes glistened with tears, and one fell — landing directly on Nathaniel’s outstretched hand as he moved to wipe it away, burning him with something he mistook for tenderness. “Don’t cry. I’ll do it.” “It’s just — I already promised your elder sister I’d win back that hairband for her. She said it was her late mother’s keepsake.” Lily quickly dabbed her eyes and smiled. “It’s fine. All the men in the tournament know Nate. Once one of them wins the hairband, which man really wants a piece of jewelry? We can buy it back for my sister with moonstone afterward.” “I’ll give every moonstone I’ve saved to buy it back for her.” Her careful, timid manner stirred Nathaniel’s pity beyond reason. “All right. I’ll win that gown and give it to you.” I closed my eyes and pressed my fists together. I heard their exchange before the match started but had no time to intervene before it began. I still held on to a thread of hope. After all, Nathaniel and I had been promised to each other since childhood — our two families had a verbal agreement. Three days from now was when the Voss family was due to arrive with a formal proposal. I thought that, at the very least, as my intended mate, he would honor this one wish of mine. I was wrong. He deliberately lost to Ethan Calloway, the Northern Border alpha’s son, just to win that gown for Lily Harmon. “Oh dear, sister — Nate lost! He let someone else take the hairband.” “Isn’t that your mother’s keepsake? What will you do? The Northern Border alpha’s son and Nate have always been rivals. Do you think he’d ever sell it back to Nate?” So she already knew. That’s why she had suggested buying it back — she had already calculated that Ethan would never agree. I looked at her steadily. “Sister, with a heart like a viper, does your precious Nate even know what you truly are?” Her expression shifted, but before she could speak, Nathaniel arrived with a crowd of people bearing the gown. Lily flung herself at him. “Thank you, Nate!”

The alpha daughters around them surged forward with envious sighs: “That gown was made by the most renowned seamstress in the pack — it took her three full months. And Nathaniel won it just for you, Lily!” “Nathaniel cares so much about you.” “I heard the Harmon and Voss families go way back. They were going to arrange a match between their children.” “So the Voss family had their eye on Lily all along? How enviable.” Lily accepted the gown with a triumphant smile and disappeared to the back to try it on. Nathaniel watched her go with that familiar indulgent expression, then turned to me. “Evelyn, I know I broke my word to you. But Lily said it was the only thing she wanted for her awakening ceremony, and I couldn’t refuse her.” “As for the hairband — I don’t know why the Northern Border alpha’s son won’t part with it. But it doesn’t matter. When I come to propose, I’ll have one custom-made at Silver Moon Jewelers — even more beautiful than the one your mother left you.” I blinked back tears, my eyes burning. “I only fear there may never be another chance.” Nathaniel looked regretful but stood there, unable to find the words. My half-sister emerged in the gown, tugging at Nathaniel’s sleeve with a bright laugh. “Thank you, Nate. This is the best awakening ceremony gift I’ve ever received.” Then she tilted her head at me, her voice dripping with mock comfort. “Sister, some things are over — why hold on? That hairband is beautiful, yes, but it’s a dead woman’s possession. Isn’t it bad luck to cling to it?” “Would you really have Nate commission an exact replica of a dead woman’s token as a proposal gift? Wouldn’t that be terribly unlucky?” Nathaniel stepped in to smooth things over. “All right, it’s my fault entirely — it’s just a hairband. I’ll have several made. When I come to propose, I’ll bring them all as an apology to Evelyn.” On the way back, when I stayed silent, Nathaniel finally lost patience. His expression hardened. “How long are you going to sulk over an object? The dead are gone. Aren’t the living more important?” “Is your mother’s old hairband worth more than Lily’s awakening ceremony? She is your sister.” “This behavior today — this pettiness — it’s unworthy of an alpha’s daughter. Think about that.” “If you keep acting like this, I’ll have to reconsider whether you’re fit to be the luna of the Voss pack. This match — I may need to think it over.” And with that, he mounted his horse and rode away. Three days later came Lily Harmon’s wolf awakening ceremony. Her mother, the mistress Gloria Harmon, had been preparing for months. After my mother died, my father had showered his mistress and her daughter with favor, moving Gloria into my mother’s quarters. Lily had always been treated as if she were an alpha’s daughter by birth. If not for the influence of my maternal grandfather, my father would likely have made Gloria his new luna long ago. So for Lily’s awakening ceremony, invitations went out to every luna and alpha daughter in the pack. And this same day was when the Voss family had agreed to arrive with their formal proposal. The hall was full of guests. Someone joked about when they could expect to toast both unions. Nathaniel caught my eye, looking slightly uncomfortable, then smiled. “Our families’ match was always meant to be settled — I was thinking three months from now for the wedding date. Evelyn, does that suit you?” One of the lunas who knew both families spoke up. “Wasn’t the original date set for one month from now?” Nathaniel lowered his gaze, his voice quieter. “Evelyn, we discussed this. Because your maternal grandfather won’t allow Lily’s mother to be formally recognized, Lily is still considered omega-blooded — it makes it harder for her to find a match.” “Her situation is difficult. I truly feel for her.” “I spoke with your father. He agreed that Lily should enter the Voss household first, one month from now, and then I would welcome you three months later.” A hush fell over the entire room. Someone drew a sharp breath. “He’s asking the omega-blooded daughter to take the luna’s place — and sending the alpha’s daughter in afterward?” I held Nathaniel’s gaze and asked clearly, “Is this the decision of both the Voss family and my father? That Lily Harmon should be the Westridge alpha’s son’s luna?”

Nathaniel waved his hands quickly. “It’s not a matter of luna or mistress. Lily said herself — even if she enters the household first as my mate, she will defer to you in all things once you arrive. She won’t compete with you.” He stepped toward me, urgent. “Evelyn, you are the lycan council elder’s alpha daughter, and the granddaughter of a great general. Your standing in the pack is unquestionable. No one would dare look down on you, no matter what.” “But Lily is different. She was born omega-blooded. Every step of her life has been a struggle. I only want to make things a little easier for her.” “You’ll only be two months behind, and Lily has already said — when you arrive, she won’t ask you to take suppressants. She’ll allow you to conceive and bear your own children. They can even be registered under her name and raised as alpha-born.” He spoke with such feeling, seeming genuinely moved by Lily’s so-called generosity. The expressions on the guests’ faces said everything: “Has the Voss pack lost their minds?” “What is Elder Harmon thinking — sending his alpha daughter in as a second wife?” “If the General hears about this, he’ll ride back from the Northern Garrison and tear this place apart.” Nathaniel’s face cycled between pale and red. Lily drifted over in her celestial gown, voice soft as silk. “Sister, please say yes.” “Nate has such a kind heart. He pities my circumstances — that’s why he thought of this.” I let out a cold laugh. “You call your circumstances pitiful? Your mother moved into my mother’s quarters three days after her death. My mother’s jewelry was claimed by her. And you took over my rooms — the most comfortable in the house — claiming you preferred them.” “Your food, your clothing, your jewels — you always had the first pick of everything, and better than what I had as the alpha’s daughter. Tell me, sister — where exactly is the hardship you speak of?” The guests looked her over. The celestial gown she wore was the very prize Nathaniel had won for her at the tournament. Its value needed no explanation. On her head sat a jeweled crown from Silver Moon Jewelers — their signature piece, worth a hundred moonstones. Her embroidered slippers were adorned with Eastern pearls, impossibly opulent. By contrast, I stood in clean, simple attire — and somehow appeared more plainly dressed than she did. “That outfit costs a fortune. Even the most celebrated alpha daughters in the pack don’t dress like that. She has the nerve to call herself an unloved, omega-blooded girl?” “Just that crown alone is worth a hundred moonstones.” “Even her mother’s cloud-silk robe is worth thousands. Those two dress grander than most lunas.” “The actual alpha’s daughter here looks positively understated by comparison.” Lily retreated a step, tears clinging to her lashes, looking at Nathaniel. “That’s not true, Nate. Father only asked me to dress this way today, for the ceremony, so as not to lose face in front of guests. These clothes aren’t really mine.” “This crown and the jewelry — Father said they were meant for my sister.” I smiled softly. “Father said they were meant for me? Pearl — make a note. After the ceremony, please go to the second young miss’s room and collect all the crown jewels and accessories for return to my quarters.” My maid Pearl pressed her lips into a smile. “Yes, Miss Evelyn.” Nathaniel snapped, “Enough, Evelyn — it’s just a crown. Why must you back your own sister into a corner? All this petty bickering — it’s completely beneath an alpha’s daughter.” “I had my doubts about whether you were treating Lily poorly. Now I’m starting to wonder just how much you’ve been bullying her when I wasn’t around.” He stepped in front of Lily, clasping her hand tightly. “She will be the future luna of this house. She doesn’t stoop to counting jewelry.” “Besides, when Lily is formally wed, your father has agreed to send her off with a hundred-box dowry. She couldn’t care less about a few pieces of jewelry.”

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I was born with a curse—whoever I doom dies exactly as I say. When I was five, the trafficker who kidnapped me beat me half to death because I wouldn’t stop crying. I stared at him through the blood streaming down my face and whispered, “You’ll be crushed into meat paste by a truck.” The words barely left my lips when a runaway semi barreled through the gate and flattened him so thoroughly. Later, at the orphanage, the director embezzled our food and locked me in the punishment closet for days. I told him he’d choke to death on his own greed. That very noon, he died at the dinner table, a chunk of expensive steak lodged in his throat. After that, I became the monster everyone feared, so I learned to shut my mouth and play mute. Until the day the Sterling family found me and brought me home. My parents enrolled me in the family company, saying it was time I learned the business. But I’d only been there one day when I pushed open the front door and saw Lydia—the adopted sister—sobbing in my fiancé’s arms. “Julian, does Evelyn hate me now?” she whimpered. “She’s been spreading rumors at the office, claiming I slept with Mr. Harrington to secure the Westside Development deal—and that I caught syphilis from him.” My mother stormed over and slapped me hard across the face. “Your sister is innocent! How dare you spread such vile lies about her!” My father’s voice was even worse—cold and filled with disgust as he pointed at me. “I knew it—you grew up poor and bitter, and now you’re rotting from jealousy! Get to your room and don’t come out until I say so!” I covered my face, saw the smug look in Lydia’s eyes, and sneered. You think I’m spreading rumors? Fine—then you’d better be ready to live with the consequences when I open my mouth. “Mom, Dad, look—Evelyn’s laughing.” Lydia buried her face in Julian’s shoulder, clutching his hand and trembling. My mother’s chest heaved with fury, and she grabbed the teacup from the table and hurled the scalding liquid straight into my face. “You cursed brat! I should never have brought you back!” “We gave you everything—food, clothes, a home—and this is how you repay us? Slandering your own sister at the company!” “How can you be so vicious?!” I bit down hard on my tongue until I tasted iron. Julian gently rubbed Lydia’s back, then shot me a look of pure disgust. “Evelyn, I told you from the start—you don’t belong in the Sterling family, and you sure as hell don’t deserve to be my fiancée.” “If Lydia hadn’t begged me to give you a chance, I would’ve called off this engagement ages ago.” “Now get on your knees and apologize to her, or I’m ending this farce right now.” I lowered my head, staring at the puddle of tea soaking into the marble floor, and said nothing. My curse has always been absolute—once I speak, fate obeys without fail. In the six months since they brought me home, the Sterlings gave me something I’d never had before: warmth. When I had a fever, my mother stayed up all night changing cold compresses on my forehead. My father, who never cooked, clumsily made me pork chops and gave me the first piece. Even my brother—who swore he’d never accept me—started sneaking pastries into my bag. My mother would stroke my face with tears in her eyes and whisper that she was sorry for the years I’d suffered alone. My father even drove me to the office himself, saying I needed to start building connections because one day, the entire Sterling empire would be mine. To protect this fragile sliver of warmth I’d finally found, I sealed my lips shut. Because I knew the moment I spoke, I might kill them all. Seeing my silence, Lydia’s sobs grew louder. “Does Evelyn think she can just play dumb and get away with this?” “She’s been spreading those disgusting lies about me all over the company—everyone’s looking at me like I’m dirty now! How am I supposed to show my face in this industry again?!” Julian’s face twisted in rage, and he stormed over and grabbed the fine chain around my neck, yanking hard. Pain seared across my skin as the gemstone necklace—the heirloom of the family’s successor—snapped off. Six months ago, my mother had recognized me because of this necklace. She said she’d put it on me the day I was born, a mark of my identity as the sole legitimate heir. “Give it back!” I lunged forward, trying to grab it. Julian sidestepped with a sneer, letting me crash to the floor.”Don’t touch me! If you come near me again, I’ll call the cops and tell them you assaulted me!” Then, right in front of me, he placed the necklace around Lydia’s neck. “A treasure this priceless should only be worn by someone pure and kind like Lydia.” “A vicious, foul-mouthed nobody like you would only taint it.” Before I could get back on my feet, my brother came charging down the stairs and grabbed me by the collar. “I knew we shouldn’t have brought you back, you filthy charity case!” “It was Lydia who begged me to be kind to you! She even gave up her own bedroom to you!” “And for the past six months, she’s handed you every good thing she’s ever had—and this is how you repay her?! You ungrateful snake!” He shoved me to the ground and turned to scream at the staff. “Butler! Lock this trash in her room right now!” “No one gives her a single drop of water without my permission—understood?!” Two security guards rushed forward, dragged me upstairs.

I was locked in that room for seven days straight. Every night, the maid would slide a single bowl under the door. Inside was nothing but cold leftovers and scraps. Outside, I could hear laughter echoing through the halls—the four of them, a perfect little family. Lydia made sure to parade Julian past my door every single day, her sickly-sweet voice dripping through the crack. “Julian, this watch is too expensive—why don’t you give it to Evelyn instead?” “I know you love me, but Evelyn is their real daughter, and she’s the one you’re technically engaged to.” “Maybe we should just… end this. As long as I can see you happy from afar…” Her voice cracked into a sob. “I’d die a thousand deaths and it would still be worth it.” Julian pulled her into his arms, then kicked my door hard enough to rattle the frame. “Stop talking nonsense. That piece of trash they dragged back from the gutter isn’t even worth carrying your shoes.” “Just looking at her pathetic face makes me sick—why the hell would I give her something this expensive?” “Don’t worry, Lydia. Even if I marry her, I’ll never lay a finger on her. You’re the only one I’ll ever love…” I leaned against the door, listening to their declarations of undying devotion. A dry, bitter laugh scraped out of my throat. “Wearing something that expensive to bed? Better be careful—you might wake up with a stiff neck.” The next morning, Lydia’s shrieks tore through the hallway. “Ahh! It hurts! My neck—I can’t move it!” Then came my sister’s panicked voice, followed by the frantic footsteps of the household staff scrambling to help. I sat in the dark, eyes closed, a slow smile spreading across my face. On the eighth day, the lock finally clicked open. Lydia stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking down at me like I was something she’d scraped off her shoe. “Oh my God, Evelyn, you look like death. Did you really starve yourself just to guilt-trip us?” “Come on, get up. Mom and Dad want you at the company.” “All you have to do is stand in front of everyone and admit you lied, apologize to me, and we can all move on.” I pushed myself to my feet and walked toward the door. The moment I reached the top of the stairs, Lydia leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “You poor little bastard—did you really think you could steal my parents and my man?” I froze mid-step and turned to look at her. Before I could say a word, Lydia let out a blood-curdling scream. “Evelyn, no! I swear I won’t take the inheritance from you!” Then she threw herself backward and tumbled down the stairs. “Lydia!” Julian bolted toward the staircase, and my parents and sister came running from every direction. Lydia lay crumpled at the bottom, her face pale and twisted in pain, but somehow she still managed to force out a weak smile. “Julian… don’t blame Evelyn… I just… lost my balance…” My sister’s eyes went bloodshot. “You’ve lived in this house for over twenty years and never once fell down these stairs—there’s no way this was an accident!” My mother flew up the steps and landed two brutal slaps across my face. I was so weak from starvation that the force sent me crashing to the floor, my ears ringing. My father stood at the bottom of the stairs, pointing at me with pure hatred in his eyes. “How did we ever give birth to a monster like you?!” I pressed my hand to my burning cheek and stared back at them, feeling the last shred of warmth in my chest turn to ice. I let out a cold, humorless laugh. “…If I really wanted to hurt her, I wouldn’t need to lift a finger.” My brother’s entire body shook with rage, and she kicked over a decorative plant stand. “Dad! Mom! Do you hear this?! Do you hear what she’s saying?!” “Lydia’s lying there in pain, and Evelyn has the audacity to double down on her threats!” Julian cradled Lydia in his arms, his face contorted with fury. “You’re still refusing to admit what you’ve done! Stop pretending you have some kind of supernatural power, you delusional freak!” My father turned his face away, as if even looking at me disgusted him. “Get her out of my sight. Lock her back in her room—now!” I struggled against the guards’ grip and let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You’re all playing your parts so well—just make sure she doesn’t actually break a bone and pass out from the pain.” Lydia, who’d been sobbing dramatically in Julian’s arms, suddenly went rigid. Her head lolled forward, and she slumped, unconscious. My mother screamed. “Someone get her in the car! We need to get to the hospital—NOW!” The guards scooped Lydia up and sprinted out the door, with my parents and brother racing after them. The roar of engines filled the courtyard, and within seconds, they were gone. I was thrown back into my room like garbage.

A few days later, Lydia was discharged from the hospital. My parents shoved me into the car and dragged me straight to the Sterling Group headquarters. The normally spacious lobby was packed wall-to-wall with employees. My parents had summoned the entire company to publicly clear Lydia’s name. On the massive LED screen in the center of the room, a video played on loop—footage of Lydia handing out backpacks to underprivileged children in remote villages, and late-night shots of her working tirelessly on the Westside Development project. My father stepped onto the platform, microphone in hand, his voice booming across the lobby. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great misfortune to announce that we brought home a daughter of such rotten character.” “Out of pure jealousy, she spread vicious, slanderous rumors about Lydia throughout this company.” “She has not only damaged our family’s reputation—she has committed an unforgivable moral crime!” My mother stood beside him, covering her face and sobbing like a victim in a courtroom drama. The employees, not knowing the full story, began whispering amongst themselves. “Once trash, always trash—doesn’t matter if you put her in a mansion.” “I heard she grew up in some backwater foster home. People from places like that are all liars and thieves.” “If she’s willing to slander her own sister, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do.” Their venomous words surrounded me like a tightening noose. Lydia, supported by Julian, walked up to me and held out a piece of paper—a printed confession titled Statement of Guilt and Apology. “Evelyn, I know why you did this.” “All you have to do is sign this, admit you lied, and apologize to me in front of everyone. Then I’ll forgive you.” I stared at her smug face, my chest heaving with barely restrained rage. “I never said those things.” “But if I had said you slept with Mr. Harrington—” Before I could finish, Julian’s polished oxford slammed into the back of my knee. I collapsed onto the marble floor with a sickening crack, pain exploding through my leg. The employees around me erupted in laughter. Some even pulled out their phones, snapping photos and recording videos of my humiliation. “Karma’s a bitch!” Shame tore through me like a serrated blade. And then— “Stop! Evelyn didn’t lie! I can prove it!” Everyone froze. A young woman shoved her way through the crowd. She is the intern I’d comforted on my first day at the office, who’d been crying in the break room after getting chewed out by her supervisor. She planted herself in front of me, her voice shaking but firm as she pointed at Lydia. “I saw it with my own eyes that night when we were working late!” “Lydia got into Mr. Harrington’s car, and they were in the backseat together—I recorded the whole thing!” The entire lobby went dead silent. Lydia’s face drained of color. But she recovered quickly, throwing herself into Julian’s arms and wailing at the top of her lungs. “Julian! How much did Evelyn pay this girl to lie for her?!” “First she makes up disgusting rumors, and now she’s bribing people to back her up! What kind of monster does that?!” “I can’t take this anymore—I just want to die!” The crowd’s shock instantly morphed into contempt. Julian’s expression darkened, and he pulled Lydia closer, glaring at the intern with pure hatred. He stepped forward and backhanded her across the face. The intern lost her balance and hit the floor hard, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. My eyes went wide. “You’ve gone too far—” “Throw this traitorous little bitch out of my building!” my father roared. “Fire her immediately! Blacklist her from every company in the industry—I want her name ruined!” Four security guards swarmed the intern, raining fists and kicks down on her fragile body. She curled into a ball on the floor, her screams growing weaker and weaker.

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For two years, I let men use my body as a punching bag in an underground fight club. When I finally scraped together enough for Finn’s surgery, Landon handed it to his childhood friend for the fifth time. Five hundred thousand dollars. Not a cent more, not a cent less. This time, though, my internal injuries were too severe. There was no clawing back another five hundred thousand. I showed up at her place with my gloves still in hand and backed her into a corner. “Give back my son’s surgery money. He’s in end-stage heart failure. That money is the only thing keeping him alive.” Landon sighed, then told her to return it. The day Finn was rushed into the ER, the payment terminal blinked: insufficient funds. At the same moment, Sienna updated her social media. “Nearly got myself attacked by a crazy woman today. Thank god I had a $500K alexandrite diamond necklace to make me feel better. Real ones always come through for you!” I called Landon until my phone burned hot. He finally picked up. “Mia, you really scared Sienna the other day. She had a cardiac episode. I need to be here with her.” “I’m a doctor. I know Finn’s condition better than anyone. He’s not as fragile as you think. He can hold on a little longer.” “Once my research grant comes through, I’ll schedule the surgery immediately.” I hung up. With the last few dollars in my account, I reserved a double burial plot. Cradling Finn’s body as it slowly went cold, I sent Landon one final text. “Landon. I want a divorce.” … I had barely confirmed the burial plot when Landon called back. “Stop being dramatic, Mia. You scared Sienna so badly she had a cardiac episode — her situation is far more critical than Finn’s right now.” “Finn’s condition is chronic. A few more days won’t kill him.” “Once Sienna stabilizes, I’ll find the money and get him into surgery.” Critical. A diamond necklace bought with our son’s life — how critical could she really be? I kept seeing Finn’s face in those last moments. His small fingers closing around my sleeve: “Mommy, if Daddy comes… will it stop hurting?” “It’s okay if it still hurts. I just want to see him one more time before I fall asleep.” He never stopped waiting. My throat tightened. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” “Landon. In your heart, is Sienna more important than me and Finn?” Impatience crept into his voice. “Mia, Sienna and I have been friends for over two decades. And she got her heart condition because she stepped in front of a kidnapper to protect me when we were kids. I owe her. Can’t you understand that?” “I’m asking you to be a little compassionate.” From the background, Sienna’s voice filtered through, sharp and lazy all at once. “Your wife calling to start drama again? God, she’s so exhausting.” Landon’s tone softened immediately, like a different man entirely. “Yes, yes, you’re right. Don’t get worked up — your heart can’t take it, sweetheart.” Then a message from Sienna hit my phone. “Hey sis, I just overheard. Honestly? Landon does have money — but his research eats through everything. I’m the one who suggested he borrow from you.” “I had no idea he’d actually go through with it every single time lol. If you need it urgently, I’ll tell him to pay you back.” “What kind of man does that to his own wife? I’ll give him hell for you.” My tears hit the screen. Every time Landon got his bonus, Sienna would “borrow” it for her treatments. Landon always said he owed her — so he said yes, unconditionally, every single time. So when Finn got sick and there was nothing left, I went underground. I stood in a cage and let strangers beat me for money. A message popped up from the fight club manager. “Mia. Big client tonight. Heavy hands, but he pays triple. One hour and you’re looking at Finn’s full surgery fee. Come now if you’re in.” Any other night, even with my organs already hemorrhaging from the inside, I would have been the first to say yes. Finn’s cold seeped into my bones through my arms. “I’m not coming.” “I’m never coming back.” I didn’t look at the string of question marks the manager sent after that. The morgue was cold. Finn had always hated the cold. He would have been so miserable. I forced a smile at the passing nurse. “Could I borrow a blanket? My son gets cold easily.” The nurse looked like she might cry herself. She came back with one still in its packaging. “Take it. Let the little one go comfortably.” I thanked her quietly. She waved it off. “Don’t thank me — thank Dr. Graves from our cardiac ward. He has a friend admitted here right now, and he’s been so generous to the staff to make sure she’s well looked after. These blankets run about two thousand a piece.” “The way he spoils her? I’d guess girlfriend.” I stood very still. I thought of the weeks I had spent on my knees begging doctors to help Finn, of how we couldn’t afford the surgery no matter who I asked. My tears came without warning. “Thank you, Dr. Graves.” I wrapped Finn with trembling hands. The nurse hesitated. “Where’s his father? He should be here. If he could just help pull together the money, it never would have come to this.” I pulled a crooked smile. “His father… isn’t here anymore.” The nurse opened her mouth and closed it again, not knowing what to say. I was in the middle of filing the paperwork when I heard him — Landon, running through the corridor with Sienna in his arms, not watching where he was going. I had just stepped around the corner when his shoulder caught me full force and sent me into the wall. “Watch it!” My head cracked against the plaster. Blood ran down my temple. Landon didn’t look back. He was already shouting down the hallway at the attending physician. “Dr. Smith — run a cardiac workup on her immediately.” I slid down the wall and stayed on the floor for a long time, the pain making it impossible to move. Eventually I heard footsteps — Sienna, pulling Landon back in my direction. “I told you you hit someone. Come and apologize. The doctor said I’m fine — I’m not some fragile little thing who falls apart at nothing.” She looked down. “Wait — Landon, the one you knocked over is your own wife.”

Landon’s face shifted — guilt crossing it for half a second before Sienna turned to me with a bright, cutting smile. “Mia, he barely grazed you. Did you fall on purpose? Are you this upset that I asked him to come with me?” She gave him a light nudge. “Go on. Go say sorry to her.” Landon’s hand, already extended to help me up, went still. He looked at me with a frown. “Yeah, Mia. I barely touched you. And you’re still going on about the five hundred thousand.” Something in my chest turned to ice. I braced against the wall and pulled myself upright on shaking legs. I stumbled — falling toward Sienna. She stepped back. Pinched her nose. “God, what is that smell?” “Landon is a doctor with a reputation, Mia. Look at yourself.” Landon’s expression soured too. “Mia, you’re a mess. You smell. Is it too much to ask that you shower and get some rest?” After Finn died I had held him until his body began to change. The hatred in me boiled over. I wanted to scream it at him. “That’s your son’s smell.” A nurse walked by and lit up when she spotted Landon. “Dr. Graves, you’re on leave today — what brings you in?” Her eyes traveled curiously between the three of us before settling on me. “And this is?” For years, Landon had said doctors needed to be careful about public perception. That people would gossip if they knew he had a son and still spent this much time at Sienna’s side. So he had never told anyone at the hospital about Finn. About me. A flicker of panic crossed his face. “Oh, she’s — she’s a caregiver. For my friend.” I stood there with all the words I would never say jammed in my throat. Once the nurse moved on, Landon exhaled and reached for me. “Mia, I didn’t mean it. It’s just — I have a professional image to maintain here.” I laughed. It came out sharp. “An image.” Sienna clicked her tongue. “Mia, Landon is a respected physician. You show up looking like you crawled out of a dumpster and you want him to claim you? Give him a break.” Landon said nothing. He agreed by staying silent. I gripped my washed-out shirt in both fists and looked at the necklace blazing at Sienna’s throat. That necklace. Bought with my broken body. Bought with my son’s life. The rage came out of me before I could stop it. I swung. I never made contact. Sienna screamed before my fist came anywhere near her. “Landon — my chest — don’t let her hurt me!” The slap split my vision in half. Landon hit me so hard my knees buckled. Copper filled my mouth. He gathered Sienna against his chest. “Mia, do you have any idea how weak her heart is? And you try to attack her?” I pressed my hand over my bleeding nose and looked up at him. “Her heart is weak? And Finn’s wasn’t?” “I wish I’d hit her harder.” Sienna whimpered, clutching her chest harder. Landon’s face went to stone. His fingers closed in my hair. “Don’t you dare.” My scalp tore. I felt something wet. My phone slipped from my pocket. Landon’s eyes caught the notification on the screen — the cemetery’s deposit confirmation. His brow creased. He shoved me back against the wall. “What is this, Mia? You’re so desperate to make me feel guilty you’re dragging our son into it too?”

He carried Sienna away toward her room. “Tell Finn to wait for me. I’ll perform the surgery myself. He’ll be fine.” “Once this is settled I’ll spend real time with both of you.” I thought about Finn over those two years — how he would always smile through the pain to reassure me. “Mom, don’t worry. Dad is the best cardiac surgeon there is. He’s going to fix me.” He trusted Landon completely. And Landon never came. I doubled over and vomited blood. It tasted like everything. I bought a handful of painkillers at a pharmacy, finished Finn’s paperwork, and scraped together enough for the burial plot deposit. The day the balance came due, my card was declined again. I ran it three times. “Please — try once more. This can’t be right. I just put money in.” The attendant only shook his head. I opened my banking app. The balance read zero. The screen felt like a blade. I called Landon immediately. “Landon. If you need money for Sienna’s treatment, use your own. Give mine back.” “My money is all tied up in research. When the grant posts, you’ll get it back. After the way you went after Sienna yesterday and put her back in the hospital, you have a lot of nerve asking for anything.” My eyes burned. “Give me back what’s mine.” “Landon, you took that money. Doesn’t that keep you up at night?” “You want to talk about money? Your old boss has been calling me. He said there was a temporary shift he offered you that you turned down. He wanted me to talk you into taking it. I was going to tell you no. I didn’t want you overworking yourself.” “But since you’re this desperate — why did you say no?” I went cold. The fight club manager had contacted him. Everything inside me lurched. “Landon. If I go back to that job, it will kill me.” I had never told him what I actually did. I’d let him believe it was a second shift somewhere, anything but the truth. What I couldn’t understand was how he could pour himself into caring for someone else’s life and feel nothing for ours. “Please. I’m begging you. I can’t go back. Give me back the money.” A long pause. Then, begrudgingly: “Fine. I’ll transfer it.” I hung up with something close to relief. Maybe Finn could have his burial plot. I waited all day. Into the evening. Nothing came. Instead, the fight club manager texted. “Where are you? Your husband said you agreed to come back. He already collected 30% from tonight’s client. If you don’t show, that’s on you — and I will make it on you.” The hospital’s automated system also started pinging. “Ms. Calloway, the morgue has holding limits. Please complete your son’s arrangements as soon as possible.” The sky outside burned red. I dialed the fight club manager. “I’ll be there.” I asked how much I’d clear after the client’s deposit was deducted. He gave me a number. It wasn’t enough for the double plot. It was only enough for a single. I pulled the corner of my mouth up. Then I’d use what was left of this body to buy Finn the ground he deserved.

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I used to be a top-tier deep-sea explorer, but now I just sell fish in a filthy market. Eight years ago, I was sentenced to life imprisonment for cutting off my companion’s oxygen tube. After enduring eight agonizing years in prison, I was released early due to good behavior. Today, my family barged into my stall like maniacs, my parents dropped to their knees and wailed. “Chloe, your sister went diving two hours ago and hasn’t surfaced. Something’s wrong!” “You’re the best diver in the world, get in the water and save her!” My ex-husband Liam pushed forward next, forcibly shoving our old wedding ring onto my finger, his voice cracking. “I promise you, Chloe, bring Mia back alive, and I’ll remarry you.” I didn’t say a word. My fingers drifted up to the hearing aid tucked behind my ear. Had they forgotten? Eight years ago, their precious adopted daughter Mia killed a teammate underwater over gold bars from a sunken wreck. Liam made me sign the confession to protect her. My own father slapped me so hard he ruptured my eardrum permanently. If I dove now, the water pressure would burst a blood vessel in my brain. I’d die on the spot. “Chloe, don’t push your luck!” Mr. Davis, the market manager, stormed over when I stayed silent. He’d been bowing and scraping to Liam and my parents, but the look he threw me was pure contempt. “The Liam Group and Grant Famliy pay more taxes than this whole district earns in a year! You think this shitty fish stall makes you somebody? Why are you playing hard to get?” The onlookers started jeering. “What a cold-blooded bitch! That’s her sister.” “Probably holding out for more money. Scum.” “Looks decent, heart black as coal.” Each word stabbed me. I was the victim. I was the one whose life they destroyed. Why was I still the villain? I pulled the ring off and pushed it back into Liam’s hand. Then I pointed to the hearing aid and shook my head. “It’s not that I won’t. My ear is destroyed. I’ll die down there.” My mother Susan let out a shriek and threw herself into the bloody muck, pounding the ground. “Chloe! Eight years and you’re still this heartless? Faking a disability to dodge responsibility? That’s your little sister!” My father Arthur’s finger trembled an inch from my nose. “How did the Lu family spawn something like you? Letting her die and lying about it—you’re not human!” Liam’s eyes burned red. He yanked a bank card from his wallet and forced it into my palm. “Chloe, I’m begging you. Five million. Enough to live on forever. Save Mia and name your price—anything.” His hot tears hit the back of my hand and burned like acid. Eight years in prison, and he never visited once. Now he crawled back—for her. For the woman who framed me. Using money to humiliate what was left of my dignity. I couldn’t take another second of it. Hands shaking, I pulled a folded medical certificate from my pocket—proof of severe eardrum perforation. Liam didn’t even glance at it. He slapped my hand away, the paper fluttering into the fish slime. “You want more money? Is that it? I GAVE it to you! Mia doesn’t have time!” Then Mr. Davis flipped my entire stall over, fish and ice crashing across the concrete. “Chloe, you murdering bitch! Get out! Don’t contaminate my market! Refuse to save her, and you’re done here forever!” The crowd spat on me. Literally spat. “Get out, murderer!” “Scum like her doesn’t deserve to breathe!” I stared at the crumpled medical certificate soaking in fish blood, and something inside me cracked. All I wanted was to live quietly in a corner of the world. Was even that too much to ask? Were they really going to hound me until I was dead?

I ran. I don’t remember how I made it back to my rented room through the rain of curses. I’d barely caught my breath when my phone exploded with notifications. Every single one was a trending topic. #Murderer Sister Refuses to Save Drowning Sibling# #Grant Family Heiress Missing, Biological Daughter Watches Coldly# #CEO Liam Offers Reward for Cold-Blooded Ex-Wife# I tapped the top link. It was Liam’s livestream. Susan sat in front of the camera, voice cracking on cue. “I’m sorry everyone, I’m sorry for wasting public resources. But as a mother, I have nowhere left to turn. We failed to raise her right! ” ”Eight years ago she killed a man over gold, and I thought prison would change her. It didn’t. Her own sister is dying in the ocean right now, and she RAN!” Arthur bowed deeply into the lens. “Please, help us find our daughter Chloe! The Lu family will pay one million dollars in reward—anything to drag that bitch back!” The comments scrolled like poison. “Dox her! Burn her!” “I know where she lives—west side slums!” “Any brothers in Haicheng? Go teach her a lesson!” “Grab your tools, let’s go!” Before I could move, my door exploded inward. My landlord stormed in with a mob, phones raised, flashes in my face. “You’re a murderer? Hiding in my building?” They smashed my pots, my dishes, everything. Two men grabbed my head and forced it toward a camera. “Kneel down!! Apologize to the livestream! Say you’re a bitch! Say you don’t deserve to live!” The humiliation crashed over me in waves. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Then the crowd parted. My parents stood in the doorway. For half a second, I thought they’d come to stop it. Then Arthur pulled a thick length of rope from behind his back and handed it to the mob. “Please—tie her up. If she won’t go willingly, we’ll drag her.” I snapped my head up, voice breaking. “Dad? DAD—do you know what you’re doing? I’ll die in that water!” “Mom, isn’t your real daughter’s life worth ANYTHING? Are you really going to kill me for that girl?” Susan’s eyes flickered, then hardened. “Shut up! Mia may be adopted, but she’s a thousand times cleaner than you! While you rotted in prison, she took care of us, not you! ” “Now she’s in trouble and you, her sister, refuse to lift a finger? How do you live with yourself?” My chest was shredded, but somehow it still hurt more. In their minds, blood meant nothing. I was a stain. A disposable piece of trash. “I didn’t kill anyone! There were things about that case you never knew—why would you never believe me?” I thrashed against the rope. Nobody listens to a murderer. Then Liam walked in, a high-voltage stun baton in his hand. “Chloe, don’t make me do this. For Mia, I’ll do anything.” He didn’t hesitate. He jammed it into my back. My body convulsed, and the world went black.

When I woke up, I found myself being thrown onto the deck like a dead dog. Open ocean in every direction, waves slapping the hull like a warning. Liam stood over me, handsome face twisted with urgency. “Stop playing dead, Chloe. Get down there and bring Mia back.” When I didn’t move, his jaw tightened. “I promise you—save her and I’ll consider remarrying you. You’ll come home. You’ll never have to gut fish in that filthy market again.” Filthy? That word gutted me. Six months ago, fresh out of prison, I’d gone back to the Lu family mansion, still stupid enough to hope for a scrap of family left. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I watched my parents, my ex-husband, and their precious Mia share a warm Christmas Dinner. Laughing. Toasting. And I stood outside in the freezing wind—an ex-con, a half-deaf wreck who’d done eight years for someone else. That’s when I finally understood. The hell I lived in was built by their hands. In that house, I was the stranger. My eyes snapped back to a photo clutched in Liam’s fist. A beach volleyball shot—Mia in a bikini, laughing among the dive team. What stopped my heart was the scar on her right shoulder. Ten years ago, I was the dive team captain. Liam and Mia were both on my crew. That day the current turned vicious without warning. I signaled everyone to surface. Then the riptide hit. I shoved Liam and Mia toward safety and got dragged under. By some miracle, I washed up on an uninhabited island and survived three days unconscious before rescue. When I finally came home, Mia threw herself at me sobbing. “Chloe! You’re alive! If only I’d stopped you from diving—if only I’d been stronger, I wouldn’t have only saved Liam, I wouldn’t have watched you get swept away!” And now I understood everything. That’s why Liam would frame me to save her. He’d spent ten years believing Mia was the one who saved his life. For three days, while I was presumed dead, she’d rewritten history. She became his hero. But I became the reckless fool who almost got them all killed. What a goddamn joke. “I TOLD YOU,” I screamed, voice cracking. “My ear can’t take the pressure! I’ll have a brain hemorrhage! Are you trying to kill me?” Liam’s eyes flickered—a brief, real flash of doubt. Then Arthur lunged and kicked me in the ribs. “Keep acting! You’re rotten to the core, Chloe! Even now, faking a disability to save your own skin!” Susan collapsed on the deck, sobbing. “God… Mia is such a good girl, so sweet, so obedient.” “If she doesn’t come back, how are we supposed to live?”

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My husband brought up divorce while I was boiling noodles. “Split the savings down the middle. You keep the condo.” “The startup capital for the fragrance company was mine. So were every client and connection I built from scratch. None of that goes to you.” I didn’t stop stirring. I just nodded. Julian looked surprised. “That’s it?” I grabbed a handful of cilantro and dropped it into the bowl. “What else?” He stared at the green scattered across the surface, frowning. “You never put cilantro in your noodles.” I paused for a second. “People change their taste.” Julian looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. What he didn’t know was this: I’d never eaten cilantro because he hated the smell of it. But that was over now. ······· The moment I lifted the noodles from the pot, the doorbell rang. Julian moved quickly to answer it, his voice soft. “Why did you come all the way up? I told you to wait in the lobby.” The woman at the door laughed, bright and easy. “I’m here to help you move. I didn’t want you carrying everything alone.” I walked out with my bowl and found her already stepping inside, Julian’s arm loosely around her waist. I knew her. Cara Wynn — the new intern Julian had hired just six months ago. Supposedly a top graduate from the University of Washington’s fragrance program. From the day she walked into the office, Julian had never stopped finding reasons to praise her. Cara gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry to intrude, Rowan.” Rowan. She knew we were married and still called me by my first name like we were colleagues at a networking event. I didn’t respond. I sat down and kept eating. Julian, sensing my silence, offered an explanation. “Don’t read into it. I just asked Cara to help me pack.” Cara slipped off her shoes and moved into the apartment like she’d been here before. A scent hit me immediately. Familiar. Too familiar. I set down my chopsticks. “Did you give her the prototype I’ve been developing?” Cara’s hands went still on the jacket she was folding. She glanced at Julian. Julian shrugged it off. “You developed it as a company employee. Legally, it belongs to the company.” “Rowan. Business is business.” I went back to eating without a word. Ten years of marriage. To help Julian build his dream, I walked away from a seven-figure salary and started over with nothing. I never asked for a paycheck. Not once. And now he was telling me business is business. Cara chimed in. “Right, Rowan — you basically just submitted a formula. The real development and production work? That was all the company.” Just a formula. I almost laughed hearing that. I set down my bowl and looked at Julian calmly. “I pulled references from over a dozen historical texts to piece that formula together.” Julian’s eyes flickered with impatience. “So? The sources were public. If not you, someone else would’ve found them eventually.” Cara nodded along. “Honestly, I’ve read those same texts. The only reason it wasn’t me is because you knew Julian before I did.” This time I actually did laugh. Julian looked irritated and turned to leave. “I’ll be at the courthouse tomorrow. Don’t be late.” While I washed the dishes, my phone lit up. A photo had been posted in the work group chat. The whole company, standing together. Julian and Cara in the center, matching outfits, champagne flutes raised. They looked like a couple on a magazine cover. The messages kept coming. [Celebrating the Odoeologie IPO!] [Thank you, Julian and Cara!] Water rushed over my hands. I stared at the company name until my eyes stung. That was the name I gave my first perfume. I tried to type something. But the screen returned: [You cannot send messages in a group you’ve left.] A second later, Julian’s message appeared in my inbox. “Send me the formula.”

My finger hovered over his name for a long time. I called him anyway. “Why did you remove me from the group chat?” There was noise in the background — music, voices, the sound of a party still going. “We’re getting divorced. It’s weird for you to still be in there.” He paused, then added: “Besides, I’m having Cara take over the fragrance development side going forward.” Before I could say anything, other voices broke through. “Julian, who are you on the phone with?” “Don’t leave Cara standing there alone all night.” I heard Cara’s voice next, playful. “Marcus, stop it.” Julian laughed softly. “Be right there.” Then the call ended. I stood there for a moment. Julian had always kept work and home completely separate — not a single person in the office knew we were married. For ten years I was just his distant relative, or some quiet consultant nobody looked twice at. Cara had been there six months. And everyone already acted like she’d always belonged. I took the bowl out of the water and dropped it in the trash. The next morning, I went straight to the office. The employees were still glowing from the night before. “I didn’t expect Julian to be so soft when Cara’s around.” “She mentioned offhand that the team was overworked — and Julian sent everyone a thousand-dollar bonus.” I stopped walking. A hundred employees. A thousand each. One hundred thousand dollars, just like that. Something shifted in my chest. When the company was just starting out, I accidentally ingested a toxic compound while testing a fragrance ingredient. In the hospital, the doctor turned to Julian. “There’s an imported treatment and a domestic one. The imported version is more effective. Which do you want?” Julian didn’t hesitate. He chose the domestic one. At the time, I told myself it was because money was tight. Now I understood. He just didn’t think I was worth the difference. I walked to my office, only to find that my keycard didn’t work. Cara appeared from around the corner and let me in herself. “This is my office now. Julian had the code changed.” She walked me in like she owned the space. Because she did now. The layout had been redone. Minimalist, expensive. My aesthetic, but erased. And sitting in the trash can: every certificate and trophy I’d earned over the years. Cara followed my gaze. “They looked dated. Julian thought they cluttered the space.” “So I tossed them. Hope that’s okay.” I picked them out of the bin, wiped them down, and tucked them into my bag. Then I walked to the small back room. Good. It hadn’t been touched. The shelf along the wall was lined with the raw materials I’d collected over the years — resins, dried botanicals, extracted oils, things I’d sourced myself from markets and forests and remote suppliers. I reached for them. Cara stepped in front of me. “Some things aren’t yours to take anymore.” I walked past her and packed everything into my bag. “I collected each of these personally. None of it belongs to the company.” Cara opened her mouth to argue — then suddenly slapped herself across the face. Julian burst through the door a second later.

“Why did you hit her?” I watched Julian rush to Cara’s side, shielding her like she was something fragile. A heaviness settled in my chest. “Julian. I used to think I was the blind one. Now I think it’s you.” I turned to leave. Julian blocked the door. “Apologize. Or you know what I’m capable of.” I didn’t respond. But I found out exactly what he was capable of a few days later. My closest friend called, stumbling over her words. “Did you and Julian actually split? Why is everyone online saying Cara founded Odoeologie?” “And that perfume — I swear that was yours. Why is her name on it now?” I gave her a vague answer and opened the app. The top trending story was about Odoeologie’s power couple and their ‘modern love story.’ I tapped it. It was a recorded interview with Julian. He spoke warmly, gesturing toward Cara as he explained the origin of the Odoeologie name. “This fragrance exists because of my partner’s love for me. Without her, Odoeologie would never have been born.” He wasn’t entirely wrong about that, actually. The inspiration behind the formula had come from someone’s love for him. It just wasn’t Cara’s. I kept watching. Julian held Cara’s hand on camera, looking at her with the kind of attention I hadn’t seen directed at me in years. The comments were flooded with people shipping them. Marketing accounts had already dug up Cara’s academic credentials and her supposed background in fragrance chemistry. No one mentioned me. Not the woman who built the formula, not the wife who was discarded. My grip on the phone tightened. Julian was systematically removing every trace of me. I sat down at my laptop and pulled up the National Copyright Registration portal. I searched my name. The filings were all there. Every perfume formula I’d registered. The tension in my chest loosened slightly. I’d always been careful about intellectual property — even when I didn’t think I needed to be. Because I’d trusted Julian, I never asked for a salary or a contract. Which meant the IP was entirely mine. Two messages came in. One from Julian: [Why hasn’t the core formula come through yet?] [Odoeologie is presenting at the Seattle Fragrance Founders Summit tomorrow. I need it tonight.] I ignored it. The other was from Theo: [Heard you got written out of Odoeologie. Come work with me instead.] Theo Nash. I’d met him while foraging raw botanicals in the Cascades two summers ago. Another obsessive — someone who loved scent the same way I did. I sat with the message for a while. Then looked at my savings. I replied. [I want equity. Fifty-fifty.] He didn’t pause. [Done. I already have a studio space. Meet tomorrow?] [Yes. Let me wrap something up here first.] Julian called before I could put the phone down. “Why haven’t you sent the formula?” I was quiet for a moment. “Julian. I made that formula myself.” He stopped. “You made it as a company employee. It’s company property.” I laughed. It felt genuine. “Julian — did we ever sign a contract?” “Did you ever pay me a single dollar?” His voice shifted. “You’re the one who said you didn’t need a contract. Don’t throw that back at me now.” True. I’d said that because I thought we were partners. I didn’t realize my generosity would become the blade he’d use to cut me out. He kept talking. I hung up. A text came in an hour later. [Given our ten years together — name your price. Just send it.] I set the phone face-down and laid out my outfit for tomorrow.

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