Author: Momo Chan

Stellan Thorne walked into my law firm with his third pregnant mistress. And asked me to draft a property transfer agreement for her. His friends stood off to the side, taking bets on how many seconds it would take before I lost control. I didn’t say a word as the thick stack of papers printed out. Stellan pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice low. “Her body can’t handle the physical toll of labor.” “Ines. Once the babies are born, you’ll legally adopt them. You are the only Mrs. Thorne.” I slid the notarized trust agreement across the desk without a word. Out of professional habit, I gave him one last warning. “This is legally binding.” Stellan took the papers, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. He pushed divorce papers across the table toward me, his tone softening. “Sign it. It’s just a formality.” “She’s healthy enough to carry. Once the babies are born and you adopt them, the Board will stop breathing down your neck about being barren.” “You’ll always be Mrs. Thorne. I’m doing this to protect you.” I’d played along with this charade twice before. This time, I signed without hesitation. Then I turned and slipped on the ten-carat pink diamond ring. The one that the Wall Street kingpin had given me. …… Faye Lawson stroked her swollen belly, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Stellan, is Ines upset with me?” “Look, she even bought herself a ring.” Stellan’s eyes locked onto my ring finger. His jaw tightened, irritation flashing across his face. “Ines, knock it off.” “You think some cheap piece of glass is going to change my mind?” I pushed the signed divorce papers back across the desk. “It’s done. Tomorrow morning in my lawyer’s office. Let’s discuss the distribution of assets.” The room went dead silent for a moment. Then Stellan’s buddies burst into laughter. “Ines, you’ve been playing hard to get for three years. Aren’t you bored yet?” “Seriously. Stellan just wants an heir. You can’t give him one, so why block everyone else?” “What kind of selfish woman does that?” Stellan rubbed his temples, clearly fed up with my stubbornness. “Ines, stop this.” “Faye’s carrying twins. The doctor said the pregnancy is high-risk. She needs bed rest.” Faye leaned into Stellan’s chest, her eyes welling up with crocodile tears. “Stellan, I don’t want our babies to grow up in some hidden apartment like they’re shameful.” She looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Ines, could I stay at your penthouse while I’m on bed rest? The security is better there, and it’s closer to the hospital.” That penthouse was the inheritance my parents left me before they died in a car crash. “That’s my pre-marital property.” Faye flinched like I’d slapped her, tears streaming down her face. “Ines, don’t be so mean. I’m only thinking of the babies.” “If you don’t want to, fine. I’ll just take them back to my hometown.” Stellan pulled her closer and turned to me, his voice hard with authority. “Ines, why are you making this difficult?” “The place is sitting empty anyway. Move out tonight and let Faye move in.” I stared at the face I used to love. The woman I’d been back then seemed pathetic now. “Stellan, do you not understand English?” “That’s my property.” Stellan’s expression darkened. “Ines, it’s just a penthouse. Once the babies are born, you’ll get it back.” “Faye is pregnant. Think of the bigger picture.” His friends chimed in from the sidelines. “Ines, Faye’s carrying the Thorne heirs. You can’t spare one apartment?” I looked at Stellan calmly. “And if I refuse?” Stellan let out a cold laugh and pulled out his phone. “Your firm’s biggest client is Thorne Enterprises, isn’t it?” “Ines, you’re a smart woman. You know what to do. Don’t make me use leverage.” For his mistress, he was threatening the career I’d built from nothing. I looked at the smug certainty in his eyes and suddenly smiled. “Fine. I’ll move out.” Stellan blinked, clearly not expecting me to cave so easily. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes, and his tone softened. “Good. Be reasonable, and I’ll take care of you.” “Move back to the Thorne Estate tonight. Tomorrow my assistant will help Faye settle in.” I stood and let my gaze sweep over all of them. “I’ll have it cleared out tonight.” “Stellan, I hope you don’t regret this.” Stellan scoffed. “It’s just temporary while Faye’s on bed rest. The penthouse is still yours. Stop being dramatic.” Faye tilted her chin up and shot me a triumphant smirk. I didn’t spare them another glance as I walked out of the office. As the door closed behind me, I could still hear his boys laughing. “Stellan’s got her wrapped around his finger.” “Once those twins are born, Stellan will have three kids. Three!” Three kids? I laughed under my breath. I hoped he’d still be smiling when he learned the truth.

That night, a storm rolled in. I went back to the Central Park penthouse to pack. There wasn’t much to take. I didn’t touch a single thing that belonged to Stellan. I took my parents’ photo and my five-year-old Ragdoll cat, Snowball. Snowball seemed to sense my mood and gently licked my fingers. The lock beeped. Stellan walked in, rain dripping from his coat. He saw the suitcase by the door and his expression hardened. “You’re actually leaving?” “Ines, I told you to move back to the Estate. What the hell are you packing for?” I stuffed the last coat into my suitcase and zipped it shut. “The papers are signed. Why would I go back to the Estate?” “Save your energy for your precious twins.” Stellan strode over and slammed his hand down on my suitcase. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?” “I told you the divorce is just a formality. Why are you making this difficult?” “You’re a woman. Without me, without the Thorne family, where the hell do you think you’re going?” His eyes were full of certainty. He thought I couldn’t survive on my own. I shoved his hand off. “Where I go is none of your concern anymore.” Stellan’s face darkened. He was about to explode when Faye’s call came through. Her voice on the other end was a whimpering mess. “Stellan, I’m scared without you here.” “The thunder is so loud. My stomach hurts. What if something’s wrong with the babies?” Stellan’s expression shifted to panic. “Faye, don’t worry. I’m coming right now.” He hung up and shot me a cold glare. “Ines, you better pray nothing happens to Faye’s babies.” “Otherwise, I will never forgive you.” He turned and disappeared into the storm. I watched his retreating figure and felt nothing but contempt. When I was bleeding out in the operating room from an ectopic pregnancy, where was he? He was touring venues for his first mistress’s kid’s shower. I closed my eyes and buried that humiliating memory. I grabbed my suitcase, scooped up Snowball, and left the penthouse for good. The next morning, I showed up on time at my lawyer’s office, waited until the close of business. Stellan never showed. He didn’t answer a single call. As I was leaving, one of his friends called me instead. “Ines, do you have any conscience at all?” “Faye had complications last night. Stellan was at the hospital with her all night, and you’re still pushing him to finalize the divorce?” “Are you trying to kill his babies? Is that what you want?” My voice was flat and emotionless. “If he’s busy, we can reschedule.” I hung up and headed straight to my firm. The moment I walked through the door, I could feel the tension. My assistant Clara rushed over, her eyes red and frantic. “Ines, we have a problem.” “Thorne Enterprises’ Legal Department just sent an email. They’ve terminated all contracts with us, effective immediately.” “And they’re telling other clients that anyone who works with us is declaring war on Thorne.” I stopped in my tracks, my eyes going cold. Stellan was trying to force me to crawl back. He thought cutting off my income would make me submit. I opened my laptop to find a dozen termination emails from the major clients I’d spent years building relationships with. My phone buzzed with a text from Stellan. [Apologize to Faye. Promise to behave and stay, Mrs. Thorne. I’ll restore the contracts.] [Ines, don’t test my patience.] I stared at the screen and laughed. He always had that same condescending, magnanimous tone. I didn’t reply. Then I blocked his number and dialed someone else. The call connected immediately. A man’s deep voice came through the line. “So Stellan finally kicked you to the curb?” “Evander, you win.” I stared out the window. “I don’t want Thorne’s business anymore. But I need you to do something for me.”

The man on the other end let out a low laugh. “Name it. I’d hand you all of Wall Street if you asked.” “What do you need?” My voice turned ice-cold. “I want Thorne Enterprises to go into financial freefall within a month.” Over the next few days, Stellan didn’t show his face. He probably assumed I was somewhere scrambling to save my firm, ready to come crawling back any second. He had no idea. I’d already sold my stake in the firm for a fortune and quietly taken over all of Sinclair Group’s North American legal operations. That afternoon, I’d just finished a meeting at Sinclair Tower when my phone rang. The vet clinic. “Ms. Kensington, something’s happened to your cat!” My heart seized. I drove straight to the clinic. I pushed through the door to find Snowball lying on the operating table, blood matting her white fur, barely breathing. The vet’s hands were covered in blood, his face grim. “Ms. Kensington, she was beaten with a blunt object. Internal damage. We did everything we could.” My mind went blank. Snowball was a birthday gift from my parents. She’d stayed with me through countless sleepless, lonely nights. My hands trembled as I stroked her bloodstained fur. Snowball struggled to open her eyes one last time, looked at me, and then stopped breathing. “Who did this?” My voice came out hoarse. The vet sighed and pulled up the security footage from outside. On the screen, Faye stood in oversized sunglasses, gripping a golf club. Behind her, a bodyguard dragged Snowball out of her carrier. Faye didn’t hesitate. She swung the club down hard, over and over. When Snowball finally stopped moving, Faye kicked her in disgust. “Stupid animal thought it could scratch me? Should’ve known its place.” She turned to the bodyguard. “Toss it on the street. Don’t let Stellan see this mess.” I stared at the screen, my nails digging into my palms until I couldn’t feel them anymore. I pulled out my phone and called the police. Half an hour later, officers escorted me to what used to be my home. The door swung open. Faye was curled up in Stellan’s arms. When she saw the cops, she let out a shriek and hid behind him. “Stellan, I’m scared.” Stellan stepped in front of her, his face dark with fury as he glared at me. “Ines, what the hell is wrong with you now?” “Bringing cops to my home? Are you trying to humiliate me?” I looked at him coldly. “Faye is under investigation for destruction of property and animal cruelty. I’m pressing charges.” Stellan froze for a second, then laughed in disbelief. “Over that worthless cat?” “Ines, are you out of your mind? It’s a cat. It’s dead. I’ll buy you ten more if you want.” “Faye is pregnant. She can’t handle this kind of stress. Get the hell out of my house. Now.” I stared at the man in front of me. He felt like a stranger. “That cat was mine. My parents gave her to me.” “What did she do to deserve being beaten to death?” Faye peeked out from behind Stellan, tears streaming down her face. “Ines, stop lying.” “The cat went crazy and tried to claw my stomach. I was protecting the Thorne heirs. It was self-defense.” “Do you really value an animal over the lives of our children?” Stellan’s expression turned vicious. He lunged forward and raised his hand. The slap echoed through the room. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth, and my ears rang. Stellan pointed at me, shaking with rage. “Ines, how twisted are you?” “You can’t have children, so you use a damn animal to try and kill mine?” “If anything happens to Faye’s babies, you’ll pay with your life.” The officers immediately stepped forward and pulled Stellan back. “Mr. Thorne, calm down. You just assaulted someone in front of law enforcement. We can arrest you for that.” Stellan didn’t even flinch. He straightened his cuffs with a cold smirk. “Arrest me? The Police Commissioner answers my calls. I’m disciplining my wife. You think you can arrest me?” He turned back to me, his eyes full of warning. “Ines, I’m giving you one last chance.” “Drop the charges. Get on your knees and apologize to Faye.” “Or I’ll make sure you never work in this city again.” I wiped the blood from my mouth and looked at the two of them with complete calm. The rage had burned out, leaving only clarity. “Stellan, that slap just severed the last thread between us.” “You want children?” “Then I hope you have a beautiful family together.” I turned to the officers. “I’ve submitted the surveillance footage. I’m pressing charges.” I walked out without looking back. Behind me, Stellan’s voice exploded into the night. “Ines! Don’t you dare walk out that door!” “If you leave, you’re never coming back!”

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“I have an announcement. Ivy and I got married.” My husband said it at Thanksgiving dinner, with my sister’s hand held gently in his. For a few seconds, I thought I had misheard him. Last night, he kissed me and promised that today he would tell everyone we had been secretly married for five years. Now he was holding Ivy’s hand at my mother’s table, letting everyone believe she was his wife. My mother froze with her fork halfway to her plate. Then her face lit up. “Oh, Declan. Ivy. That’s wonderful.” “Well, now you’re married to Ivy, so we really need to find someone for Olivia. If you know any decent single men, you should introduce them to Olivia.” After dinner, Declan motioned for me to follow him to the balcony. He lit a cigarette, his voice flat and detached. “Remember the papers you signed last week while you were drunk? I lied to you.” “Those weren’t for home purchase. Those were divorce papers.” My body went cold as I forced the words out. “Why would you do this?” Declan let out a heavy sigh and ruffled my hair. “Ivy is just an adopted daughter in your family.” “What if your mother forces her to marry a disgusting old man for business? I had to protect her.” From inside, I heard Ivy calling for him to come home, her voice soft and needy. I watched them walk away together, then turned to my mother with tears streaming down my face. “Mom, I want to go with you. Let’s relocate to Switzerland like you’ve been asking.” My mother froze mid-step, caught off guard. She rushed over and pressed her palm against my forehead, genuinely confused. “You’re not running a fever. I’ve been begging you for months and you kept refusing. What changed your mind so suddenly?” I’d refused before because I couldn’t leave Declan behind. He had severe chronic stomach issues. Without me, he was completely helpless at taking care of himself. And besides, our five-year agreement was almost up. Once we went public with our marriage, I could move into the penthouse with him and we’d have the life I’d been dreaming of all these years. But now he’d kicked me to the curb with some pathetic excuse, choosing Ivy over me instead. My vision blurred as tears threatened to spill over. I ducked away from my mother’s concerned gaze and quickly wiped my eyes, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I just need a change of scenery. I heard Switzerland is full of attractive men anyway. Maybe I’ll even find you a European son-in-law.” My mother stared at my red-rimmed eyes and let out the softest sigh. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re heartbroken because Declan married Ivy, aren’t you?” “I’ve known since you were children that you had feelings for him. He always took such good care of you. I never imagined he’d marry Ivy.” Mom’s words finally broke the dam holding back all my hurt. I collapsed into my mother’s arms and let myself fall apart. She didn’t know that just last night, Declan had kissed me so tenderly. She didn’t know that the simple silver band on my finger, the one I never let anyone touch, was slipped by Declan. Back in my room, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Ivy had sent a series of photos, each one designed to twist the knife. The first showed her and Declan having an intimate candlelit dinner at the exact restaurant where he’d proposed to me. The second was them tangled together, completely naked, in the bed I’d spent weeks picking out. I checked the timestamp on the photo. Two years ago. My blood turned to ice. He’d been cheating on me for that long. The third photo was a group shot from years back. When I recognized the man standing beside Declan, my mind went completely blank. My hands started shaking uncontrollably and my phone clattered to the floor. A new message from Ivy popped up on the screen. “Don’t you want to know why Declan was so desperate to marry you five years ago?”

Five years ago, right before graduation, Ivy suggested we go camping in the Adirondacks for one last adventure. She even brought along some guy none of us knew, called Trent. The entire hike, Trent wouldn’t leave me alone. “Are you thirsty? Want me to carry your bag?” His hand kept brushing against my ass, supposedly by accident. I was terrified and kept trying to catch Declan’s attention, but he completely ignored me. He was too busy crouching down to tie Ivy’s shoelaces. When we were kids, a campus security guard once groped me. I didn’t even understand it was sexual assault at the time, but Declan saw it happen and completely lost it. He punched the guy so hard his nose bled everywhere. Then dragged his uncle who worked on the school board to make sure the creep got fired. But now? He couldn’t even be bothered to look at me. I had no choice but to stick close to our trail guide to escape Trent’s wandering hands. That night, I woke up to freezing air on my chest. I opened my eyes to find Trent unbuttoning my shirt. I screamed. The guide and Declan came running. Declan immediately pulled me into his arms, whispering soothing words. I was sobbing, begging him to call the police. But Declan frowned and stopped me. “Olivia, if we report this, everyone will know. Your reputation will be destroyed.” “Do you want tabloids and paparazzi turning this into a scandal for your family?” I broke down completely. Declan squeezed my hand, his voice gentle. “Don’t be scared. I brought you here, so I’ll take responsibility for you.” Right after graduation, Declan proposed and took me to Vegas to get married. My phone buzzed, snapping me back to the present. I could practically see Ivy’s smug face through the screen. “He married you because he was afraid Mom would blame me for not protecting you. And calling the police would’ve exposed that I was the one who hired Trent to harass you.” “Declan had to shut you up somehow, and he knew you love him, so he sacrificed himself.” It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. Tears splashed down onto the silver ring on my finger. The night we got married, Declan set off the most beautiful fireworks display for me. Under that cascade of sparks, he’d kissed me and made a promise. “Olivia, I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.” We’d kissed so passionately that night, then checked into a hotel suite. Declan had been so gentle taking my virginity. I wanted so badly to laugh at Ivy’s lies, to prove her wrong. But I couldn’t find a single piece of evidence that Declan had ever truly loved me. My phone buzzed again. This time Ivy sent an audio file. My hands were shaking as I pressed play. Declan’s voice came through the speaker. “Ivy, Olivia is pregnant, but don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” My heart felt like it was being crushed in someone’s fist. Three years into our secret marriage, I found out I was pregnant. Declan had been so excited he stayed up all night with his ear pressed against my stomach. The next morning, he insisted on driving me to my checkup himself. Halfway there, the brakes failed and we slammed into a guardrail. I started bleeding immediately, soaking through my dress and onto the seat. Declan was knocked unconscious and the engine started smoking. My first instinct wasn’t to call an ambulance but to smash through the window with my bare hands, and drag him out before the car exploded. By the time I regained consciousness in the hospital, our baby was already gone. Declan had knelt beside my bed, sobbing uncontrollably. I’d swallowed all my own grief just to comfort him, terrified he’d blame himself. It had all been a setup. I started laughing through my tears, then pulled out the crumpled ultrasound print. Then tore it into pieces.

The next morning, Declan showed up at our door carrying expensive supplements. When he saw the moving boxes in the living room, his brow furrowed. “Eleanor, are you moving?” I answered before my mother could. “No, just clearing out some old junk.” Declan glanced at me, then walked straight to the fridge like he owned the place and stored the supplements inside. “Eleanor, Ivy asked me to bring these tonics for you. She’s been dealing with morning sickness and couldn’t come.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I knew Declan had been cheating for years, but my heart still twisted painfully in my chest. Just last month, I’d casually mentioned wanting to see the Northern Lights in Norway, and he’d cancelled a ten-million-dollar deal without hesitation. Last week when someone at work gave me a hard time, he had bought into the company just to threaten the executives. Declan’s love was apparently infinite enough for two women. After tucking me into bed each night, he still had energy left over to go see Ivy. My mother shot me a quick glance before responding. “Tell Ivy to rest and not worry about me.” Declan nodded, then pulled out a thick stack of files from his briefcase. “By the way, Eleanor, these are profiles of quality single men from my company.” “Take a look and see if any of them might be good for Olivia. ” My eyes landed on the first profile. Trent Lawson. Nausea surged through me and I bolted for the bathroom. My mother rushed after me, panicked, patting my back. “Is your stomach acting up again? You’ve been throwing up for days now.” Declan’s gaze burned into me, his eyes narrowing slightly. While my mother went to get stomach medicine, he walked over and grabbed my wrist hard. “You’re pregnant.” I jerked my hand away in disgust. “No, I’m not.” But he stared at my stomach with cold certainty. “You haven’t had your period in two months.” My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. I screamed at him and shoved him hard. “That’s none of your business! You’re Ivy’s husband now. She’s the one you should be worried about!” Before Ivy showed up, Declan used to follow me around everywhere. He knew I loved spicy food but hated sweets, knew I never wanted cream on bagels. He even tracked my irregular periods better than I did. Every time I got cramps so bad I couldn’t get out of bed, Declan would skip hanging out with his friends after school. Instead, he’d go home and take care of me. His mother used to tease me about it, saying she’d never seen Declan care so much about any other girl. She’d even jokingly asked my mother if we should arrange an engagement. But then my mother adopted Ivy from the orphanage. She was so tiny and fragile that a strong wind could knock her over. During morning track practice one day, Ivy collapsed and fell into me. We both got hurt, but Declan didn’t hesitate for a second before picking her up and running to the nurse’s office. After that, I stopped being the one Declan protected. I cried about it. I even told him we weren’t friends anymore. He just patted my head and said Ivy was an orphan and needed more help. Strong people should take care of weak people. So Declan forced me to take care of Ivy too. When my mother sent new clothes to school, Declan made Ivy pick first. When my mother packed identical lunches for both of us, Declan would take all the meat from mine and give it to Ivy. He could protect Ivy all he wanted, but why did he have to use me as a stepping stone for their love? Footsteps approached and I frantically wiped away my tears. For just a split second, I thought I saw something like pain flash in Declan’s eyes. But it vanished instantly. Right before my mother walked back in, he leaned close to my ear. “Get an abortion.” “Ivy has always been sensitive. If she knows about this, she’ll think there’s still something between us.” I’d said those exact same words to him once. When we were camping and setting up tents, I’d told Declan I felt insecure and wanted to sleep near him. He’d refused, saying he needed to stay with Ivy. After my miscarriage, I’d begged him to stay with me at the hospital. He said it was Ivy’s birthday and she’d be hurt if he missed it. When I got jealous and demanded to know what his relationship with Ivy really was, he’d looked at me like I was insane. “Olivia, you’re being ridiculous. I only see Ivy as a sister.” I wasn’t being ridiculous. He was just covering his cheating tracks. He has no right to demand that I abort my child. I laughed coldly and pushed him away. “This is my business. It has nothing to do with you.”

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On the night of the full moon, more than a dozen girls from the pack and I stood in a line, waiting to be chosen by the werewolf warriors. Those who were chosen would successfully form a bond. Those who were not would be sent to the rogue packs as sacrificial brides for political alliances. I held my head high, because everyone knew the future Alpha, Aiden Blackthorn, would choose me. After all, we had grown up together, and he loved me. But at the very last moment, he chose Lila Fairchild. All because he said, “Lila is soft-hearted. If she wasn’t chosen, she’d feel humiliated and cry. You’re different. You know in your heart that I love you. You won’t hold this against Lila, right?” I smiled, turned around, and left for the rogue lands. Later, he cried and begged me not to go. … After the choosing ceremony ended, Lila clung to Aiden’s arm, crying with gratitude. Aiden’s face was full of tenderness. Every chosen girl around me was overjoyed. Except me. I was the daughter of a pack elder, noble in status and pure in bloodline. Because everyone knew I was with Aiden, no one besides him dared to choose me. But I never expected that, at the final moment, Aiden would choose someone else. According to the rules, I would become the sacrifice sent to the rogue packs. At that moment, he walked over to me, his face full of gentleness. “Come on. I know you’re upset, but Lila comes from a poor background. Her bloodline isn’t pure, and she’s simple-minded. If she were the only one left unchosen tonight, she would have been devastated.” Then what about me? Did my feelings not matter at all? Bitterness filled my eyes. “Do you even know what tonight’s Moonshadow Ceremony means?” This time was different from the past. Ever since the rogue lands gained a leader, their strength had grown day by day. The Moonshadow Pack had only decided to send she-wolves out for marriage alliances because we could no longer stand against them. Tonight’s Moonshadow Ceremony was the final decision. I thought I would not be the werewolf sacrificed. Because Aiden loved me. He had given me his first wolf fang. He had defied his family for me. He had charged into the Thornlands for me and come back covered in wounds. He had looked at me with deep affection and said that, in this lifetime, he would only ever bond with me. Just yesterday, he had stood in front of me and said with a smile, “I won’t choose anyone else. It has always been Sophia. Sophia is my only choice.” Back then, my heart had been full of sweetness. But now, all that sweetness had become a joke. Guilt appeared on Aiden’s face. “Don’t worry. I won’t bond with Lila. I only wanted to help her out so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed. I never thought of anything else. I told you, you’re the only one who will ever be my Luna.” Seeing that I was still frowning, he took my hand and coaxed me like a child. “I just felt sorry for her. Don’t be mad, okay?” I looked at his innocent expression. Even now, every word out of his mouth was still defending Lila. I shook off his hand and demanded angrily, “Aiden, you know tonight’s Moonshadow Ceremony means the final choice!” “Sophia!” Before I could finish, a sharp voice rang out beside us. Lila ran over, grabbed Aiden’s arm, and looked at me with tear-filled eyes. “Don’t yell at Aiden. This is all my fault. I ruined your happiness. I embarrassed you. But I couldn’t help it. I’m not as likable as you. No one else chose me. I only have Aiden.” As she spoke, she covered her face and sobbed. “It’s only because Aiden pitied me. I’m sorry. If you blame me for this, I can apologize. I’m sorry.” Before Lila could even finish apologizing, Aiden’s face tightened with distress. He pulled the pitiful Lila behind him and cut her off anxiously. “Enough, Sophia. You’re being so petty. My Luna would never be as graceless as you.” After he said it, he seemed to realize his tone had been too harsh. His voice softened. “All right. I’ll take Lila back to her quarters first. I’ll come find you afterward.” Then he left with Lila, without looking back. I watched their backs disappear as the mocking voices around me grew clearer and clearer. “She kept saying Aiden liked her. Turns out it was all fake. What a liar. If he liked her, why didn’t he choose her? She stole Lila’s love and still had the nerve to show off.” “How funny. She’s the daughter of a pack elder, and now she’s going to be sent to the rogue lands to be humiliated by those lowborn wolves. How pitiful.” My eyes turned red. The strength I had been forcing myself to hold together finally collapsed. I wiped away my tears and walked out, only to receive a familiar call. “Sophia, don’t cry. Come to me. I’ll protect you.” I never expected that the legendary new leader of the rogue lands, the man said to be unbeatable, would turn out to be my stepbrother, who had once been banished from the pack. “Sophia, if you’re willing to leave with me, I’ll come to the pack and get you.”

I stayed silent for a long time. I did not know whether Aiden understood how different this Moonshadow Ceremony was. More than ten years of history between us. I remembered everything that man had done for me. I did not want to give up without understanding why. I wanted an answer. Just one answer. I said to my stepbrother, “Let me think about it. I’ll give you an answer before noon tomorrow.” I wanted an answer. Only an answer. I gritted my teeth and ran all the way to Lila’s quarters. The door was open. Inside, dim candlelight flickered. Lila was pressed against Aiden’s chest, tears sliding down her cheeks. Aiden looked at her with pity, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders, as though he were comforting a frightened young wolf. “Aiden, I’m… I’m different from Sophia,” Lila choked out. “She’s so noble, and I’m nothing. No one chose me. I… I always feel like I’m worthless. I’m not as likable as all of you. No one ever notices me. I… I only have you.” Her voice was weak, with a trembling hint of desperate flattery woven through it. Aiden gently patted her back and said in a low voice, “You don’t need to apologize. You don’t have to say these things.” Lila took the opportunity to lift her head. Her eyes were misty with tears, but there was a trace of slyness hidden in them. Her lips touched Aiden’s. It was a soft yet teasing kiss, like a test and a confirmation all at once. But Aiden only froze for one second. He did not push her away. Lila’s voice filled with joy. “Aiden, you chose me. Does that mean you’re willing to bond with me too?” Aiden frowned deeply, but he shook his head with certainty. “My future Luna will only be Sophia.” Lila sobbed, her tears falling onto his chest. “Aiden, I’m not asking for a title. But I know I must have a place in your heart, or you wouldn’t have chosen me. If you can’t give me the status of Luna, then could you… mark me first?” Under the candlelight, my heart clenched. I could faintly see the hesitation on Aiden’s face. His hand was still around Lila’s back. His eyes were full of pity. He let her throw herself into his arms and kiss him, deeper and deeper, almost drawing him into desire. I stood frozen in the darkness, my heart twisting like it had been cut apart. But I still stubbornly waited for an answer. At last, in the pitch-black night, I heard Aiden answer in a low voice. “Okay.” The next instant, his fangs flashed coldly and sank into Lila’s neck. Blood seeped into the air, carrying the heavy scent of iron. My heart hurt. It hurt even more than when I had been ignored at the Moonshadow Ceremony. So this man I had grown up with had fallen in love with someone else, yet still falsely promised me the title of Luna. I tightened my grip on my phone, my fingers trembling. I called Aiden, hoping the call would stop what they were doing. But Aiden only froze for a moment. Then he let the phone keep ringing and continued to complete the mark. Only after he was done did he take out his phone. When he saw that the call had been from me, a flash of guilt crossed his eyes. But he did not call me back. He only sent a message. Sophia, it’s late tonight. I’ll come find you tomorrow. Then I watched him enter Lila’s bedroom. Soon, the two of them were tangled together. My heart shattered completely. I did not wait until noon tomorrow. I immediately called my stepbrother back. “I’ve decided. I’ll leave with you tomorrow.” A cold wind swept past. Moonlight poured through the forest like water. My heart was completely cold. But my decision had been made. I would take control of my own fate.

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At eighteen, Damian Knight pulled my little sister and me out of the underground market. That was the day I started to love him. That was also the day I started to die for him. Also from that day on, I bled for him. I burned for him. I took the bullets and the blades without a word. On the day I was promoted to underboss of the Knight family. The youngest in Knight history. The only woman. I thought that meant something. Then he brought a girl home. I remember because I’d just walked in from a job. There was still blood on my collar, drying tacky against my throat. He walked in with a girl on his arm instead. “Selene,” he said, looking at my blood‑soaked clothes with disgust, “go clean yourself up. You’re frightening my baby.” That girl became his obsession. His soldiers quietly started calling her Mrs. Knight. Damian took the guns from my hands. Then he tied an apron around my waist — ridiculous — and tightened the bow at the small of my back with hands that didn’t tremble at all. From then on, I was her personal servant. When she didn’t want to eat, Damian made me kneel at her feet and feed her bite by bite. Every scar she got, he carved ten more into my skin for failing to protect her. I never cried. I never fought back. Because years ago, he had asked me: “You want to repay me? Do one hundred things for me.” I pulled out the worn notebook. I was looking at the last two lines. Soon, I would owe him nothing. I was carrying a tray of food to Iris Vale’s room when Damian stopped me. “Selene, go get your sister’s bracelet. Iris wants it.” That bracelet was the only thing my parents left for Luna. Luna slept with it under her pillow. He saw my red eyes and his face went dark. “Selene.” When Damian used my full name, it meant he was furious. And everyone in the family knew what happened when he lost his temper. I thought of two days ago, I had refused to hand over my sunglasses to Iris at the riding ground. Damian had me tied behind a Iris’s horse and dragged across the field for an afternoon. The way the gravel had felt against my back for an entire afternoon. I turned and went to Luna’s room. I slipped the bracelet onto Iris’s wrist from my younger sister. “It suits you.” Damian smiled, pleased. He pulled Iris against his chest and said, “I have hundreds of men. And not one of them is as obedient as she is.” “As long as you keep her happy, Selene, maybe we can still talk about our wedding.” Before I could respond, Iris slammed the bracelet onto the floor. “Damian! You promised you would marry only me!” Tears streamed down her face. Damian’s heart crumbled. He pulled her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. I fell to my knees and gathered the shattered pieces. My fingers bled. The people around me watched like they were at a show. Even I knew how ridiculous I looked. Last month, I had nearly died on a mission. Damian stood over my hospital bed, tubes running out of every part of my body, and said coldly, “You’ve gotten weak, Selene. A handful of men did this to you? Then again, Iris needs a new maid.” I grabbed the broken pieces tighter. My eyes were redder than the blood on my hands. That night, Luna saw her mother’s bracelet destroyed. She cried until she nearly passed out. I held her and promised, “Just hold on a little longer. We’ll be free soon.” The door was kicked open. Damian stood there, his face dark. “Stop crying! You woke up Iris.” He jerked his head. “Take your sister and go to the house on the west. Now.” Before I could argue, his men shoved us into a car. Luna screamed at him, “Damian! You weren’t like this before— please—!” He froze for a second. The air in the corridor turned to glass. I clamped my hand over Luna’s mouth. Her tears wet my fingers. After Iris came, I had learned to keep my mouth shut. When I begged Damian to come back to the compound, he announced to everyone that I was no longer underboss. All my years of hard work had come to nothing. When I asked Iris not to go to the shooting range for playing, he aimed a gun at my forehead and told me to remember my place. When he was wounded and I brought him soup, he threw the bowl at the door. “Stop caring about me. Iris will get the wrong idea.” But he had been the one to say he loved me first. He had been the one to say he wanted to marry me. I pulled my hand away from Luna’s mouth. She was still crying softly. The house on the west was located in a border zone, right between warring families. A death trap. I jumped out of the car and ran back to the villa. When I knocked on the door, the sounds inside room stopped. A glass bottle shattered against my forehead. I bit down on the pain and bowed. “Miss Vale, I apologize for my sister. I promise she won’t disturb you again.” Damian looked at the blood running down my face. He’s chest rose and fell. “Who are you trying to fool with that pathetic act? People will think Iris was the one who hurt you.” I ignored him and kept apologizing to Iris. Finally, I knelt and pressed my forehead to the floor three times. She smiled. “I’m tired, Damian. Just let her go.” Damian kissed her forehead and shook his head. “You’re too soft, sweetheart. People will walk all over you.” He turned to me. “You care about your sister so much, then you can walk her there yourself.” That night, Luna’s fever hit a hundred and four. I carried her on my back through a blizzard for hours. In the hospital waiting room, I pulled out the notebook and wrote two words under the list. Bracelet. Two more things. Then I would be free.

The house on the west was far from the family compound. Before dawn the next morning, I was already on my feet, heading back to the villa to prepare Iris’s breakfast. The snow had stopped, but the cold was still brutal. I had barely stepped through the kitchen door when Damian’s men grabbed me. They bound my hands, shoved a gag in my mouth, and threw me into the back of an armored SUV. When they pulled me out, I was kneeling in the middle of a private shooting range. Oak trees bare of leaves. Targets lined up at fifty yards. And at the far end, Damian stood with his arm around Iris, whispering something in her ear. He looked at me like I was livestock. “Go stand over there,” he said, pointing at the target board. My head snapped up. “She’s never handled a gun in her life. I’ll die.” Iris’s face fell. She pressed herself against Damian’s chest. “Damian, Selene’s right. I am so useless. Maybe I shouldn’t—” “Don’t say that.” Damian kissed her temple. “You’ll be a marksman. I promise.” Then, over the crown of her head, without looking up “What are you waiting for? When did you start ignoring my orders?” I didn’t move. My old wounds throbbed under the bandages. Every bullet I had ever taken for him seemed to burn again. He saw me shaking. Then he stepped away from Iris, walked across the gravel, and took my jaw in his hand. “If you don’t go, I’ll put Luna out there instead. She owes me a life too.” He meant it. If I refused again, my ten‑year‑old sister would be the next target. I closed my eyes and swallowed the bile in my throat. “She’s small. I’m bigger. Miss Vale will have more fun.” Damian’s grip loosened. “Good girl.” He turned back to Iris, showing her how to load the revolver. She giggled nervously. “What if I miss, baby? Would you be angry at me?” He spun the chamber, one bullet at a time. “Don’t worry. She won’t die. She’s taken hundreds of rounds for me. A few from you will barely tickle.” Then, the first bullet tore through my knee. I collapsed onto the frozen dirt. I could feel the blood pulsing out of my leg in slow, warm thuds, soaking through the wool of my coat. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard her. Laughing. Damian didn’t even blink. “Again.” The second shot went into my left shoulder. I hit the ground face‑first, gasping. Blood soaked through my white dress. His men exchanged uncertain looks. No one helped me. “Get her up,” Damian said flatly. Two soldiers hauled me to my feet. My legs barely held. Third shot. My left abdomen. I coughed blood onto the snow. Fourth. My right arm. Iris raised the revolver for the fifth time. She was grinning now, her teeth white, her eyes bright. “Enough,” Damian said, taking the gun from her hand. A flicker of jealousy crossed her face, Iris stomped her foot. “But I was just starting to get the feel of it!” He hesitated. Then he glanced at one of his men. “Bring Luna.” “No…” I tried to scream, but the blood in my throat came out as a gurgle. “She’s only ten. She’s still sick. Please…” Damian’s face flickered—for just a moment. Then he turned away. “She’ll be fine. Iris needs more practice.” I watched through a blur of tears as two soldiers dragged my sister onto the range. They had her by the elbows, the way they’d had me. Her bare feet didn’t touch the ground between them. She was so small. Her hair was still wet from the fever. She screamed my name. “Selene! Please!” “Selene! Help me—” The revolver fired. Her voice stopped.

I woke up in a hospital bed. For a moment I didn’t know where I was. Tubes ran into my arms. The heart monitor beeped a slow, steady rhythm. Every inch of my body felt like it had been set on fire and stamped out half‑way. “Luna!” I shot upright. My elbow caught the edge of a tray, and a bowl of broth went flying. Soup splashed across the floor. Damian stood at the foot of the bed, wiping his sleeve. His face was tight, but not with anger—something else. Something I hadn’t seen in a long time. I grabbed his wrist with the little strength I had left. “Where is she? Take me to her.” “She’s alive,” he said quietly. He didn’t pull away. “She’s in surgery. You’ll see her when she’s stable.” “Surgery?” My voice cracked. “You put a ten‑year‑old girl on a firing range. You let that woman—” “Iris didn’t know the gun was loaded with real rounds.” His jaw tightened. “It was a mistake.” “A mistake.” I laughed. It came out like a sob. He knelt beside the bed and picked up a new bowl of soup from the nightstand. “You need to eat. You lost a lot of blood.” I turned my head away. He didn’t get angry. He didn’t throw the bowl. He just sat there, holding it, waiting. For three days, he stayed. He brought me photographs of Luna in her hospital bed—bandaged, unconscious, but alive. He spoon‑fed me broth when I refused to eat. When I pressed my lips shut, he drank the soup himself and kissed me, forcing it down my throat. I wiped my lips on the back of my hand. I tore the bowl out of his grip and finished it myself. He blinked, surprised. Then, slowly, he smiled. He didn’t say anything. For three days, he was the man I had fallen in love with. I let myself believe him. — Iris Vale came to visit on the fourth day. She walked into my room in a pale pink dress, her hair curled, her cheeks flushed. She looked like she had just come from a garden party, not from nearly murdering a child. She stood up suddenly when saw me open eyes. Smoothed her dress slowly. And picked up the small crystal vase from my bedside — the one Damian had refilled with white roses every morning for four days. It hit the floor and shattered. She gasped —and pressed her palm down hard against the shards. I watched her do it. I watched her watch *me* do it. By the time she lifted her hand, her palm was a mess of bright red and broken crystal, and her cheeks were already wet with tears she had not had two seconds ago. “*Selene!*” she sobbed. “Why would you push me —Damian, help—” The door burst open. Damian saw the glass first. Then Iris. On her knees. Bleeding into the rug. Then me. Half-upright in the hospital bed. Bandaged. Still hooked to the IV. Hands empty. “What happened?” He rushed to her side. The man who had spent four days holding my hand at night vanished-*that* man came back. Damian’s head snapped toward me. “Selene Ashford. Have you lost your mind?” He pulled Iris into his arms, her cheek against his collar, his palm cradling the back of her head. His eyes — over the crown of her hair — were murderous. “Apologize to her.” I stared at him. “I didn’t do anything.” Iris pulled at his sleeve. “Damian, please don’t be angry with her. She’s so sick.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re too soft.” “Have I spoiled you?” he said, low. “Have I been too soft with you lately? You think you can defy me now?” I didn’t move. His voice went cold. “If you don’t want me to pull the plug on Luna’s ventilator, you will kneel.”

My hand, gripping the bed rail, went white at the knuckles. Under the hospital gown, my nails sank into the soft skin of my own palm. I slid off the bed and onto the cold tile floor. The kindness of the last four days collapsed in on itself. It had never been kindness. Iris watched me from the safety of his arms. Her lips curved—just a little. “Say you’re sorry,” Damian said. “I’m sorry.” My voice was flat. He frowned. “Kneel lower.” I pressed my forehead to the ground. “Say it again.” “I’m sorry.” “Again.” “I’m sorry.” I lost count of how many times I said it until the inside of my throat was raw. He didn’t tell me to stop. He just stood there, holding Iris, stroking her hair, while I knelt at their feet like a dog. When he finally looked down at me, his eyes were empty. “Get out.” I stayed on the floor. He picked Iris up and carried her out of the room, murmuring about getting her hand stitched. The door swung shut behind them. I crawled to the nightstand and pulled out my notebook. I stayed on my knees in the floor. I didn’t get up until I was sure his footsteps had faded all the way down the corridor. When I finally did, my legs would not quite hold me. I caught the edge of the bed with both hands. A single shard of crystal had embedded itself in my knee. I pulled it out without looking. The blood that ran down my shin was the same color as the blood Iris had smeared across her palm. The same color, exactly. It almost made me laugh. I limped to the wardrobe. I opened the bottom drawer. Under a folded sweater, wrapped in a square of black silk, was the notebook. I sat down on the floor with it in my lap. My hand was shaking so badly the pen wouldn’t write at first. I had to brace my wrist against my thigh. Below the line that said *the pearls*, I wrote two words. *Be a human taget.* Then, on the line below that — in handwriting that no longer looked like mine — The door creaked. “What are you doing?” I went still. The doorframe shifted behind me — and I felt a peple shadow fall across the back of my neck like a blade. I closed the notebook. I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

I shoved the notebook back into the drawer, but he had already seen it. Damian leaned against the doorframe and gave a soft, dismissive snort. “Writing in your little book again? More of that self-pitying garbage?” He stepped past me, bent down, and picked up the bracelet Iris had dropped on the floor. “Tomorrow you’re going dress shopping with her,” he said without looking up. “You’ve been a bride-to-be before. Help her pick something.” He walked out. I stared at the door for a long time after it closed. A few months ago, I had said I wanted to try on wedding dresses. Just once. Just to feel what it was like. Damian had given me a dozen reasons why we couldn’t. Too busy. Too dangerous. Too early. Soon. I let out a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. Then I nodded, slowly, to no one. — The next morning, Damian sent a car for me. I was still weak from surgery, still bleeding through my bandages. But the soldiers who came to my room didn’t care. They pulled me into the back seat and drove me to a bridal boutique in the old quarter of Verenza City. Iris was already there, standing in front of a three‑way mirror in a white gown. Damian sat in a velvet chair by the window, watching her spin. The shop assistants whispered behind their hands. “Look at her face. You’d think she was picking out funeral clothes.” “She’s the Don’s mistress, I heard. The other one.” “A mistress? With a face like that?” I said nothing. I walked to the rack and started sliding hangers. Iris tried on one dress after another. Damian used words I had never heard him speak to anyone. It seems he used all the words of praise he had here. She threw the fifth dress on the floor in a heap of white silk and pearls and turned to me with a little pout. “I’m tired. Selene, you try it on. Show me how it looks.” Before Damian could protest, I picked up the gown and walked into the fitting room. — When I pulled back the curtain, the room went silent. The dress was white—the same white as Iris’s. But on me, it was different. The fabric clung to my body, and my body was a map of violence. Black bruises covered my arms. Three fresh bullet wounds on my left shoulder, still seeping red through the bandages. A long, jagged scar across my right side where a knife had opened me up two years ago. Iris backed away, her hand over her mouth. “What is that? Damian, it’s hideous. I’m going to be sick.” Damian’s face went dark. “What are you standing there for? Cover yourself up.” I didn’t move. “Are you deaf?” He stood up, his chair scraping against the marble floor. “You’re disgusting. Put your clothes back on.” I turned and walked back into the fitting room. The fabric pulled against my wounds. It hurt. Everything hurt. I peeled off the gown and put on my own clothes—the same gray sweater, the same worn boots. When I came out, Iris had already moved on to accessories. In the end, she couldn’t choose. Damian bought every dress in the boutique. I picked up a small pink dress from the children’s section. A gift for Luna, when she finally woke up. Iris snatched it from my hand. “Buying this?” She smiled. “To burn at her grave?”

My blood went cold. “What did you say?” She pulled out her phone and opened her photo gallery. One image after another. Luna on the range. Luna on the ground. Luna’s small body covered in blood. “I only shot her once,” Iris said, scrolling slowly. “She was quiet after that. Much better behaved than you. One more bullet and she would have been completely silent.” I went still. “The last shot was Damian’s.” Her mouth curved up. “She was crying, calling him *brother, please* — and he just pulled the trigger. So cold. So beautiful. I finally understood why he likes guns so much.” I lunged. My hands closed around her throat. I slammed her against the wall and lifted her off the floor. She clawed at my arms, her face turning red. “Selene!” Damian’s voice roared from somewhere behind me. I didn’t let go. The shop assistants screamed. I heard chairs overturn. Then Damian’s boot connected with my ribs, and I flew sideways into a display rack. Glass shattered around me. He had a gun in his hand, pointed at my forehead. “Selene Ashford.” His voice was very cold. “Have you lost your mind?” He was shaking with rage. “All she did was call you ugly, and you try to kill her? I’ve been too soft with you.” Iris was sobbing on the floor. Damian knelt beside her, cradling her against his chest. I spat blood onto the tiles. “She killed my sister.” “Your sister is alive,” he snapped. “Barely. And if you ever raise a hand to Iris again, I’ll make sure Luna stays that way.” I stared at him. At the gun in his hand. At the woman in his arms, who was smiling over his shoulder. “Then kill me.” My voice cracked. “Do it. Damian.” His finger twitched on the trigger. I watched his face—waiting for the bullet. Then his eyes found my face — really found it, tears and blood and all — and his whole body locked up. Instead, he shoved the gun back into his holster. “Get her back to the compound. Lock her in the basement.” Soldiers grabbed me by the arms. I didn’t fight. As they dragged me out, Damian called after me, “I’ll deal with you after the wedding.” I didn’t look back. — I thought he would tear me apart. I had seen him take a man’s hand off at the wrist for less. Instead he locked me in the basement. No one came to see me. No food. No water. Just the dripping of a leaky pipe somewhere above my head and the rustle of rats in the corners. I sat on the cold concrete floor with the bag of broken pearls in my lap and let the tears come. After a while, I started to laugh. Damian. Damian Knight. I was sorry. I was sorry I hadn’t run sooner. I was sorry I’d ever taken his hand in the back of that car. I was sorry I had spent seven years writing his name across my own heart in scar tissue with the other way. Most of all — I was sorry I had let him save me. Maybe Luna would still be whole. Maybe she would have grown up in some quiet little town somewhere, in a house with a yard, with a mother who lived through a fever, with knees that had never known what a bullet felt like. I heard that the soldiers outside the door whispered to each other. *He’s busy with the wedding.* *Reception’s tomorrow. Roses just got delivered.* I curled tighter around the pearls. Tomorrow. He was marrying her tomorrow.

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They locked me in the temple cellar to die in childbirth. They forgot one thing: my father is Hades, and the dead always come when I call. I’m on the birthing stone. The contractions come faster, harder, ripping through me. Alexios holds my hand. His eyes are soft. Wet, almost. “Hold on, Lyra. Just a little longer. We’re about to meet our child.” I’m drenched in sweat. I smile at him anyway. Then the priestess walks in with a black clay cup, and the air fills with the bitter, sweet stink of poppy and something else, something older, something my mother once warned me about. I think — thank the gods, it’s the draught for the pain. Alexios lets go of my hand. Steps back. The priestess tips the cup to my lips. I’m so thirsty. I swallow without thinking. The taste is wrong the moment it hits my tongue. Iron and ash and burnt laurel. Hera’s herb. The binding draught. The one midwives whisper about — the one that closes a woman’s womb until they let it open again. I hear Alexios speak above me. “Make sure she drank it all. She doesn’t deliver until Selene does.” I stare at him. He doesn’t look at me. He glances at the water-clock dripping in the corner. “Selene’s at six fingers. Two more hours. Hold her.” I try to scream. I try to spit the draught back up. It’s already in my blood. The pain in my belly — savage, clawing — stops. Just like that. Like a hand closing around my womb and squeezing it shut. … They drag me down to the cellar beneath the temple. Cold stone. One oil lamp. Calista is waiting at the door, twirling a bronze blade between her fingers. “Don’t blame Alexios, Lyra.” “Selene is carrying Castor’s son. The first grandson of this house. The oracle named him heir.” “Even if you push yours out first? It’s still a girl. Still useless.” I clutch my belly. The contractions are fighting back against the draught now, slow and brutal, and the world goes black at the edges. “Get the healer,” I whisper. “Please. The baby — please —” Calista laughs. She walks in. Crouches in front of me. Taps the flat of the blade against my cheek. “Push? Push what?” “The draught holds you three more hours. Selene’s already on the couch upstairs.” “Be good. Wait. When her son is in the world, you can squeeze out whatever you like.” She stands. Looks at the temple guard at the door. “Watch her. If she screams, gag her.” The door slams. I’m on the floor. Blood soaks through my gown. They took every charm and talisman from me at the temple gate — said the gods would be jealous. That was a lie. Alexios didn’t want me calling for help. He didn’t want anyone to hear me die. I curl onto my side. Try to breathe. But all I can see is his face. Cold. Calculating. Like a man counting coins. Not a husband. Not the father of my child. … Three months ago, Castor — Alexios’s older brother — was thrown from a chariot at the games. Killed instantly. He left Selene three months pregnant. At the funeral pyre, old Lord Heliades clutched Selene’s hands like she was the only thing left of his bloodline. “Bring him into the world safe. The House of the Sun cannot end.” Him. Already a him. As if the oracle had whispered the answer into his ear at the moment Castor’s chariot shattered. I stood three steps behind him. My hand on my own belly. Mine was already showing — five months along, full and warm and kicking, and I thought — surely now. Surely the old man will turn to me. I knelt down. I touched his sleeve. “Father. Don’t grieve. We have a child coming too. Alexios and I , we’ll honor you all our days.” He looked at me. His eyes passed across my belly the way a man’s eyes pass across a stone in the road. Then he turned back to Selene. He never said a word to me. Not at the pyre. Not at the feast that followed. Not for three months after. I understand now. The moment Castor died, the moment the oracle named Selene’s son the heir , my daughter became an inconvenience. A threat. A girl-child born ahead of the chosen boy. A whisper of bad omen. A small, breathing reminder that the gods can change their minds. They were never going to let her draw breath. I just hadn’t been told yet. … “Ahhh —” Another wave. Worse than the last. The draught is fading. The baby is coming. I drag myself to the door. Pound on it with both hands. “Someone — please — the baby is coming — save my baby —” Silence on the other side. Nothing. I scream until my throat tears. Until I taste blood in my mouth. Finally the guard answers. Bored. Annoyed. “Quiet, woman. Calista said wait.” “But the baby — the baby —” “Then it dies. That’s fate. Should’ve been carrying a son.” I slide down the door. Shaking. Freezing. It isn’t fate. Someone in this temple wants my baby dead.

I don’t know how long I’ve been bleeding on this cellar floor. The blood keeps coming. My gown is soaked through. The stone beneath me is warm and sticky. My vision starts to slip — gray at the edges, then black. That’s when the door creaks open. It isn’t Calista. It isn’t the guard. It’s Theia — the old priestess of Asklepios who has served this family for forty years. The woman who pulled Castor screaming into the world. The woman who pressed an oil-blessed hand to my belly the day I was first married into this house and whispered, strong child, my lady. A blessing. She sees me on the floor. The blood. Her face goes white as bone. ” Lyra. Why in all the gods’ names are you down here?” “Alexios told me you were resting in the upper chamber —” I try to speak. Nothing comes out. I just point at my belly. The tears won’t stop. She drops to her knees beside me, faster than a woman of her age should be able to. Her hands are trembling. She lifts the hem of my gown only enough to see what she needs to see, then drops it again, and the breath she sucks in is sharp and ugly. ” Mother of the gods — the child is crowning. Your waters broke hours ago.” “You need the birthing altar. Now.” She tries to lift me. The moment I move, something hot rushes out between my legs. Blood. So much blood. Her hands shake. She turns to the doorway and shouts in a voice that cracks like old timber — ” Help! A woman is dying! Anyone — anyone —” The corridor is empty. Dead silent. This temple belongs to House Heliades. They built every column of it with their gold. And tonight, for Selene’s birth, they cleared everyone out. Every priestess, every midwife, every acolyte — all upstairs, on the third tier, waiting on her. Theia grabs the bronze warding-bell from the wall. She rings it. Once. Twice. The sound dies in the cold stone and goes nowhere. “I’ll carry you up myself, child. Stay with me. ” She is sixty years old. She gathers me into her thin arms anyway. I am dying. I know I’m dying. I can feel the baby pressing down. Trying to come. But she can’t. The draught is still in my blood, weakening but holding, and the contractions come and stop and come and stop. This is the worst kind of labor. The kind that kills both of us. “Theia —” I claw at her robe. My voice is barely a thread. “Save the baby. Please. Save her.” “Don’t speak like that. You’re both going to live. Both of you. I have not lost a mother in this house in forty years and I am not losing one tonight.” She stumbles up the stone stairs. Her old knees give twice. She catches herself against the wall and keeps going. She bursts onto the main floor. Runs toward the altar room. We reach the doors. We both stop dead. The altar room is wide open. It’s empty. The birthing stone — gone. The sacred basins — gone. The bronze instruments, the linens, the herbs, the priestesses’ tools, the incense braziers, every vial of every healing draught — gone. Just an empty room. Bare flagstones. Four walls. Theia doesn’t move. She stands there holding me, and a sound comes out of her throat — a thin, choking noise, like someone has her by the neck. “This — this can’t be —” “I blessed these tools at sundown. They were here.” Footsteps echo down the corridor. Calista walks toward us, two terrified servant girls trailing behind her. She sees us. Her eyebrow lifts. “Theia. What are you doing down here?” “Selene is on the third tier. Why aren’t you with her?” Theia points at the empty altar room. Her voice cracks. ” Where are the tools? Where are the herbs? Where is everything?” Calista shrugs like a child caught stealing figs. “They’re upstairs.” “Selene is having a hard birth. She needs the best of everything. What if something went wrong? You think a common altar would be enough for the heir of this house?” Her eyes drift to me. She smiles. “Oh — Lyra. Are you having yours now?” “You’ll have to wait. Selene isn’t finished yet.” “Be patient.” I look at her painted face. The careful curls. The gold pinned in her hair. And I remember. Six months ago. Walking through the agora arm in arm with her, laughing, while she leaned against my shoulder and said — “You’re better to me than any blood sister, Lyra. I love you more than my own.” I bought her a Phoenician necklace that day. Real lapis. The kind a princess would wear. Now I’m on a temple floor, bleeding to death, and she’s smiling down at me like I’m an animal at slaughter. What a joke.

Theia tears through the storage chamber like a woman possessed, ripping open chests, throwing aside linens. The shelves are bare. No bronze clamps. No clean cloths. Not even a strip of boiled linen. “The herbs! The bloodroot! The womb-tonic!” A young temple girl whispers from the corner. “They were carried up. To the third tier.” “Lord Alexios’s order. Everything goes to Selene first.” Theia slams her thin fist into the wood. The shelf splits. Her knuckles split with it. She turns to me. Her eyes are red and her lips will not stop shaking. “Forgive me, child. Forgive me —” “There is nothing left. Nothing.” Calista glides over. Pats her shoulder like she’s comforting a senile aunt. “Don’t fret, Theia.” “She hasn’t delivered yet. Once Selene is finished, we’ll bring everything back down.” Her eyes drift to my belly. “And if the babe comes out anyway? She’s a girl. One less mouth. The House of the Sun won’t miss her.” Theia can’t take it anymore. “Calista — this is murder. I have served this house for forty years. I pulled you into the world with these hands. And now you would let your own kin bleed out on a stone floor for a prophecy?” “Murder?” Calista laughs, sharp and bright. “Mind your tongue, old woman.” “Women die in childbed. They always have. The temples are full of their names.” “And this is the business of our house. Our blood. You serve us. You do not decide for us.” She waves to the temple guards. “Take her to her cell. She’s overwrought. Bar the door.” “I’ll see to Lyra myself.” Two guards seize Theia under her thin arms. She thrashes against them with a strength that shouldn’t belong in a body her age. “Lyra! Untie every knot on you! Your sash, your hair, every braid — tear them loose! Eileithyia hears a bound woman last! Call her name! Call her name until your throat bleeds!” “Don’t give up! The child can still live! Lyra —!” Her voice fades down the corridor. Calista shuts the door. Turns to me. Slow. Calm. She pulls a small bronze hand-mirror from the folds of her gown. It is a speaking-glass — Hecate’s craft, blessed by her lesser priestesses. Nobles use them to whisper across distances. Calista taps the rim three times and breathes Alexios’s name into the metal. The polished bronze ripples. His face surfaces in it like a reflection rising in still water. “Brother. Lyra is starting to push. Want to watch?” The image of Alexios shimmers — he’s standing outside Selene’s birthing chamber, women rushing past him in the background. “Calista. Stop playing.” “Selene isn’t well. The midwives say the child’s heartbeat is slowing.” Calista turns the mirror toward me. “Look at her, brother. So much blood. Maybe she’ll go before Selene does.” Alexios glances at me. Just once. Then he looks away. “Make her wait. The healers will come down once Selene delivers.” “Lyra. Be patient. I can’t leave.” The image dissolves. Bronze again. Calista shrugs. Slips the mirror back into her sash. “You heard him?” “In my brother’s heart, Selene comes first.” “You? You’re a womb. Nothing more.” “And a womb that fails its purpose gets thrown away.” I close my eyes. I don’t want to look at her face anymore. My hand slides behind me. Finds the inner seam of my gown. Beneath the embroidery, sewn into the lining, is something small. Hard. Cold. A black iron ring. My father slipped it into my hand the night before my wedding. He pressed his forehead to mine and whispered — “Lyra. The House of the Sun runs deeper than you think. If anything goes wrong — anything at all — break this ring. Break it, and we will come.” I laughed at him then. “Father, Alexios is good to me. His family treats me like a daughter of their own.” What a fool I was. What a sweet, smiling fool. My fingers find the ring. Pull it free of the threads. I close my fist around it. And I squeeze. The iron cracks against my palm. I feel it splinter — a sharp, clean snap, no louder than a twig breaking. But somewhere far below the earth, in a hall lit by black flame, my father has just lifted his head. He has felt it. Father said — once you break that ring, we will be there before the sun moves a finger’s width across the sky. Half an hour. Maybe less. But half an hour… Can my baby wait half an hour?

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I watched the executioner’s blade slit my mate’s throat once. So when fate gave me a second chance, I had to walk away before he could love me again. And now the Mating Choosing was about to begin. Again. . . . Inside the Territory’s great hall, young females buzzed with excited chatter, their voices rising like birds at dawn. I stood among them, but my mind was somewhere else. Somewhere dark. And cold. Sera leaned close. Her hand touched my arm, trembling slightly. “Elara, look—is my hair still in place?” I looked at her. Really looked at her. *She’s alive.* And then I understood. I had come back. In my past life, I had thought her question was just about vanity. About honor. An Alpha’s daughter couldn’t afford to look anything less than perfect. I never once imagined what was really hiding behind that nervous smile. A girl’s quiet hope that *he* would choose *her.* The ache hit me so hard I nearly choked on it. “You’re the most beautiful female here, Sera,” I said softly. “You’ll become the wife of the Elder Orin’s grandson. I’m sure of it.” She swatted my arm, cheeks flushing. “Don’t tease me!” I reached up and unclasped the silver claw clasp from my hair—the only thing I had ever truly owned. The only treasure from my nameless orphan days. I pinned it carefully into her pale gold hair. Sera blinked at me, confused. “What are you doing? Isn’t this the one thing you’d never let me touch?” I smiled. *Yes. The only thing.* But I owed them everything. Ten years of food, shelter, love. [Flashback] Ten dry seasons ago, Alpha Aldric of the Leopard Clan found me half-dead beneath a tree outside the Family Territory. I was a snow leopard cub far from any mountain I belonged to—white where I should have been gold, gray where I should have been spotted. A nameless stray. The Leopardis took me in anyway. They raised me beside their daughter, Sera, fed me, taught me, and never once made me feel unwanted. Then Alpha Orin of the Lion Clan came to choose a mate for his grandson, Silas Kane. Out of every daughter in the Enclave, Silas chose me. Three suns later, Sera was found dead beyond the territory walls. No one blamed me. Not then. I married Silas. I thought I had finally found a place to belong. Until the morning the healers confirmed I was carrying his cub. My brother – Darius dragged Silas before the High Command Tribunal on charges of treason. I watched the Enforcers’ silver blade open my mate’s throat. He said I had stolen Sera’s future. That my happiness had cost our family everything. So I climbed to the edge of the Gorge and let myself fall. But now—now I was back. I pressed my hands to my face, forcing the memories down. I was the stray they took in. I was never supposed to have more than what they gave me. That kind of debt doesn’t just disappear. …… “It suits you,” I said. “They say Elder Orin’s grandson is honorable. And handsome. A perfect match for our Sera.” Her face went pink and she shoved at my shoulder. The sound was light and bright. Then the doors at the far end of the hall began to open. The crowd hushed. Elder Orin stepped in first. Broad-shouldered. Silver-maned. His lion’s presence filled the room like a storm rolling in off the plains. Behind him walked a younger male. Taller than the rest. Golden mane cropped short. Amber eyes scanning the crowd like none of them mattered. Silas Kane. My chest seized. I caught the carved post beside me before my knees folded. *In my past life, he had been dragged before the executioner’s blade. His throat slashed open on false charges. His blood soaking the dry earth while I screamed from inside my swollen belly.* I knew that face. I knew the warmth that once lived behind those cold eyes. And I knew what it cost to love him. “Elara? What’s wrong?” Sera’s voice was suddenly sharp with worry. “You’ve gone the color of bone. Let me take you to the healer.” “No.” I pulled my arm from her grip. “It’s nothing. I just need air. If Father and Mother find out we both skipped the Choosing, they’ll skin us.” She hesitated, then pinched my cheek. “Don’t be long.” I turned and pushed through the crowd, toward the back gate. Behind me, the murmurs shifted. Excitement rippled through the hall like wind through tall grass. *He’s here. The lion prince is here.* I couldn’t help myself. I looked back. Silas stood in the center of the room, scanning the females with an expression of barely hidden boredom. But his gaze had landed on something. On someone. On a bright silver claw clasp gleaming in Sera’s pale gold hair. He walked forward. Step by step. Past the dressed-up daughters of warriors and chieftains. Past the perfumed nobles who smiled and preened. He stopped directly in front of my sister. “You,” he said, loud enough for the whole hall to hear. “I choose you.” I closed the door behind me. And pressed my hand hard against my chest. It still hurt. Gods, it still hurt. But I had seen the blush on Sera’s face. The shy, surprised joy in her eyes. *She’s alive. He’s alive. That’s enough. That’s the only ending that matters.* I turned to walk back inside—and ran straight into someone. Darius. His eyes were wrong. So wild. He stared down at me like I was something rotten he’d just stepped on. “I was still too late,” he whispered. “And you already did it, didn’t you.”

I stared at my brother’s face and felt the ground tilt beneath me. But not here. Not yet. Not in this life. “What are you talking about?” I kept my voice light. “Elder Orin’s grandson chose Sera. They’re inside celebrating right now. You should go in. Be happy for her.” I gestured back toward the hall. He froze. For a long second I watched him try to read my face, looking for the lie. Then, without another word, he shoved past me and disappeared into the hall. The cold wind hit me the moment I was alone. I started trembling. Not from the chill—but from the weight of everything I’d just walked away from. . . . The next few days passed like a dream I wasn’t fully in. Mother and Father bustled around Sera. Measuring her for ceremony robes. Negotiating bonding gifts with Elder Orin’s emissaries. The whole Territory talked of nothing but the upcoming union. My elder sister, Sera, would become the mate of a lion prince. Everyone smiled. Except Darius. He watched me constantly. Whenever I crossed the courtyard, his eyes followed. Like he expected me to strike at any moment. One evening, Mother called me into her quarters. She took my hands in hers—warm and calloused. “Once Sera’s settled into the Kane household, your father and I will find you a match too. Don’t you worry. We won’t pick anyone less than what your sister is getting.” She squeezed my fingers and sighed. “I just worry about that girl. She’s so headstrong. What if she wears poor Silas out with her wildfire temper?” Her words hit me like a fist to the ribs. I smiled anyway. “I don’t want to marry, Mother. I’ll stay here. Take care of you and Father for the rest of my days.” The words had barely left my mouth when a cold laugh cut through the doorway. “Bonding ceremony’s days away. Everything is set.” Darius leaned against the frame, arms crossed. “Or are you still dreaming about the male who was never meant for you?” Mother’s face darkened. “Darius! Don’t speak to your sister like that.” He pushed off the door and walked inside, his golden eyes locked on me. “I know exactly what you’re doing, Elara. And it’s not happening. Tomorrow I’m finding you a male. Any male. A denscavenger, if that’s what it takes.” His voice dropped. “You’ll bond with whoever I pick. And you’ll stay away from Sera’s mate.” I stared at him. The hatred in his voice was real. Raw. It wasn’t suspicion born of nothing—it was the frantic terror of someone who had seen the future and was trying to claw it into a different shape. He had no way of knowing I had already made the same choice. Sera appeared behind him, a bowl of fruit in her hands. She shoved it into my arms and glared at her brother. “Stop being so mean! Elara’s done nothing wrong. And she’s still young—there’s no rush.” She picked up a slice of something sweet and held it to my lips. “Here. Try this. It’s really good.” Darius knocked the bowl from my hands. Fruit scattered across the floor. “You don’t know what’s in her head, Sera.” His voice was a snarl. “What happens when she takes your mate? What then? You gonna smile and wave?” Even Mother looked horrified at that. Sera burst out laughing. She linked her arm through mine and leaned her head on my shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous, brother. If it weren’t for Elara’s silver clasp, Silas might have walked right out of the Choosing. He even asked me where I got it. He said it was… special. That it suited me.” Her cheeks went pink as she said it. Darius went still. Then he turned and walked out without another word. . . . The next morning, Silas came to the Territory bearing gifts. I hadn’t expected it. None of us had. I’d been in the back garden, planting moonflowers along the border wall the way Mother had asked. My hands were caked with soil up to my wrists, my hair half-falling out of its tie. I heard footsteps. Too heavy for a leopard. I looked up. Silas stood over me, his amber eyes fixed on my face. For a long, suspended second, neither of us moved. “You,” he said slowly. “I didn’t see you at the Choosing. Who are you?”

I opened my mouth to answer— Behind me, footsteps slammed across the courtyard. And Darius was there, shoving himself between us like a shield. “She’s the nameless orphan we took in ten years ago.” His voice was tight. Clipped. “Nothing important. Forgive her appearance—she doesn’t know how to greet guests properly. Pay her no mind.” Then he turned and snapped over his shoulder. “Go wash yourself. Now. Don’t you dare shame this family.” I bowed my head and walked away. As I passed Silas, I heard him whisper to himself—so soft I almost missed it. “An orphan? That doesn’t…” There was confusion in his voice. Something deeper than idle curiosity. I didn’t stop. . . . Behind me, I heard Sera rush out to greet him. She pulled Silas aside, her shoulders curled the way they always were when she was nervous. Speaking quickly. Looking up at him through her lashes. I couldn’t hear what they said. But after a few moments, whatever Silas told her made her face light up. The tension melted from her shoulders. She laughed, soft and bright, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Beside me, Darius let out a long, shaking breath. The hard line of his jaw finally eased. He didn’t look at me when he spoke. “I was out of line yesterday. I’m sorry.” I blinked. I hadn’t expected that. He kept his eyes fixed on the two of them in the courtyard. “You see how happy she is?” He nodded toward Sera, who was laughing, showing Silas her new ceremonial beads. “They’re good together, Elara. So I’m asking you—begging you—don’t come between them. Please.” And just like that, I understood everything. The reason for his rage that first night. The way he’d watched me. The hatred in his eyes that hadn’t yet had time to grow. Darius had come back too. He remembered everything. Every ugly thing he had done. And now he was trying, in his broken way, to undo it by keeping me away. I drew in a slow breath. “You don’t have to beg, brother,” I said quietly. “I only want to repay Mother and Father’s kindness. I want Sera to be happy.” His shoulders sagged. “Good. That’s good.” He swallowed. “Then we can all… we can all have the ending we deserve.” I nodded, and turned, and walked back to my room. . . . Outside, I could hear the courtyard come alive again. Sera’s laugh, bright and unburdened. Silas’s low voice, steady and warm. The clink of porcelain as Mother poured tea for the guests. I lay down on my bed and pulled the cover over my shoulders. *Let it go, Elara. They’re alive. All of them. That’s the only ending that matters.* I listened to my sister laugh until the sound dissolved into something soft and far away, and somewhere in there, I drifted off. I didn’t know how long I’d been asleep. The world was still dark when my door slammed open hard enough to crack against the wall. Darius stood in the doorway. Eyes burning red. Chest heaving like he’d run the length of the Territory to get here. He crossed the room in two strides and yanked me up by the front of my clothes. The slap landed before I’d even fully opened my eyes. My head snapped sideways. My ear rang. “You’re a liar.” His voice was shaking. “I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t let it go.” I couldn’t breathe. My cheek was on fire. His grip tightened. “Where is she?” he snarled. “Where did you take Sera?”

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On Christmas Eve, I flew halfway across the world to surprise my fiancé. And caught him kissing another girl under our Christmas tree. All afternoon at work, the girls were losing their minds over deliveries. Roses everywhere. Little Tiffany boxes. Velvet pouches with red ribbons. The whole floor smelled like a Bath & Body Works. Marissa, my team lead, plopped down on my desk and grinned at me. “Willow. Your man is an art professor. In Paris. The bar he’s gonna set today? Criminal.” She wasn’t wrong. Two Christmases ago, Julian sent me 999 burgundy roses. Last year? A framed I love you spelled out in pink diamonds. Stupid amounts of pink diamonds. When it came to showing off, Julian Carter didn’t let me lose. Ever. But this year? My phone was dead silent. All day. Nothing. I started spiraling. Something happened to him. Something has to be wrong. I burned every vacation day I had, threw a flight on my credit card, and flew halfway across the world through a snowstorm. I got to his building in Paris right as the snow started coming down hard. And there, under the giant Christmas tree out front—gold lights, red ribbons, the whole Hallmark thing— Julian was kissing another girl. I just… stopped. Right there on the sidewalk. He scooped her up like she weighed nothing, laughing into her hair, coaxing her to write a wish on one of the ribbons hanging off the branches. “Baby. Tomorrow’s Christmas.” “Santa grants every wish on this tree. So go ahead. Tell him.” She looked up at him with these big shiny doe eyes and curled her arms around his neck. “Every wish? You swear?” Julian winked. His hand slid down and patted her butt. “Swear.” It wasn’t even the kiss. It was the patting her butt. That’s what gutted me. I scrambled behind a hedge like some kind of stalker, watching my own fiancé through a wall of falling snow. The tears came before I even understood they were coming. Eight years long-distance. This was the first time I’d ever shown up without telling him. She pouted and pretended to punch his chest. “Put me down.” He didn’t. One hand on her waist, the other on the back of her neck, pulling her down into another kiss. My fingers were shaking so bad I could barely unlock my phone. Breathe. Just breathe. Maybe—maybe—if he lied. If he said she was nobody. A drunk mistake. A one-night thing. I could choke it down. I could pretend. I could still believe in us. I typed: Babe, who are you with rn? A phone chimed somewhere in the snow. Close. Close enough I heard it over the wind. She huffed and turned her face. “Your phone’s been blowing up all night. Which slut is it this time?” Julian threw up three fingers like a Boy Scout. “Chloe. Baby. I swear on my life. There’s no one else.” “I dumped my fiancée for you. I stayed in Paris six years just to be with you.” Eight years. Julian and I had been together eight years. He’d been with her for six of them. This laugh just tore out of my throat. Wet. Ugly. My knees folded and I sat down right there in the dirty snow. My phone buzzed. Marissa. landed safe babe?? don’t go TOO crazy with that man of yours, come back to us in one piece okay? That made me cry harder. The girls at the office had picked my outfit for me. They’d chipped in on matching couple bracelets, wrapped them in silver paper, the whole thing. We’d all decided together. Julian was going to lose his mind when he saw me. The voices behind me got quieter. I peeked out from the hedge. She’d jumped onto his back, arms locked around his neck, giggling like a kid. “Carry me! Practice! You’re gonna have to do this on our wedding day!” Wedding day. Julian had thought about marrying her. Then what was I? What were our eight years? The ring he promised me, what the hell was that? I checked into the hotel across the street. The one with a perfect view of his bedroom window. All I had to do was pull the curtains back and I had a front-row seat to their happy little life. A couple hours of digging gave me a name. Chloe Winters. His grad student. On campus, they played strangers. Off campus, they lived together. They were in love. Universities don’t actually punish professor-student stuff. They look the other way. But cheating on your fiancée. With your own student. That kind of thing? That ends a man.

I stood at the window like I was punishing myself. Watched Julian peel her sweater off, slow. Watched him kiss her like she was something precious. Their shadows tangled on the curtain. The yellow light didn’t go out all night. It was like watching myself bleed out in slow motion. Three a.m. He finally texted. sorry babe — stuck at the studio, deadline killing me. forgot to wish my wifey merry christmas A money transfer. From your husband, with love. I stared at the number. Cold. Mocking. Back when we were new, Julian flew across continents for every holiday. I’d tease him for being clingy and he’d nuzzle into my neck and whine— “A husband’s supposed to be clingy, Will. Soon as I finish school, we’re getting married. We’re never doing this long-distance crap again.” Five years ago, he got his PhD. I asked when he was coming home. He told me—almost shy about it—that a friend had hooked him up with a studio in Paris. He couldn’t leave just yet. Three years ago, I heard the studio was relocating Stateside. I asked when we were getting married. He stammered. Said he’d just been offered a teaching gig at the École des Beaux-Arts. Couldn’t pass it up. The wedding got pushed. And pushed. And pushed. I asked him once if there was someone else. After that, he started video-calling me every week like clockwork. Just to show me, he said. But I scrolled back through our texts that night. His last real reply was two weeks ago. Everything after that? Me. Talking to myself. I didn’t take the money. I typed: I’m flying out tomorrow. Spending Christmas with you. Typing… Typing… Three hours later, he sent a cutesy sticker. nooo babe don’t do that to yourself, the flight is brutal. let’s just facetime He could’ve come clean. He chose to keep lying. That told me everything. I didn’t give him time to think. Sunrise, I was at his door. Julian opened it half-asleep, eyes barely focused. He didn’t even look up. “Just leave it on the table, man,” he mumbled, waving toward the couch. He thought I was the doorman. I followed his hand. A pink lace nightgown. Crumpled across his couch. Twisted in places that made my stomach flip. “Julian.” His spine snapped straight. His eyes opened all the way. “Willow?” I nodded. The bedroom door creaked open behind him. Chloe drifted out in lingerie, rubbing one eye like a kid. “Why are you guys being so loud—” She saw me. Julian went the color of paper. He yanked off his sweater and threw it over her like he could erase her by hiding the skin. “Willow—she’s my student. She had a fight with her boyfriend last night, like a real bad one, I didn’t want her wandering around alone, so I let her crash—” Chloe bit her lip. Looked up at me with those big wet eyes. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Willow.” I nodded. My mouth wouldn’t do anything else. Julian made breakfast himself. The whole spread. Eggs, pancakes, fresh-pressed juice, the works. Eight years. He’d finally learned how to cook for a woman. Just not me. Chloe stood up first. Said she had class. Julian grabbed his keys. I swallowed every scream sitting in my chest, slipped my arm through his, and smiled so hard my face hurt. “Take me with you. I’d love to see the campus.”

We pulled up to the red light right before campus. Chloe ducked away when Julian reached over to unbuckle her seatbelt. Made a whole show of it. Then turned around and gave me this soft, sweet little nod. “Thanks for the ride. So nice meeting you, Willow. I’ll just hop out here.” She shot Julian one quick look—pale, almost scared—and slipped out the door. Julian’s eyes locked onto her back. And then—I swear, like a switch flipped—he threw open his door and bolted after her. I dug my nails into my palms until I tasted blood from biting the inside of my cheek. He pulled a hand warmer and a packet of ginger tea out of his coat pocket and pressed them into her gloves like she was made of china. His voice carried back through the wind. “First day’s always the worst, baby. Take care of yourself, okay?” The tears came before I could stop them. I scrubbed them off fast. He watched her walk in. Then turned around like he’d forgotten I existed. He climbed back in the car. Sheepish. “Chloe’s an orphan, Will. It’s a teacher-student thing. Don’t read into it.” I nodded. Sure, Julian. We barely got through the front gate before we ran straight into a pack of his students. Their eyes ping-ponged between us. Curious. Knowing. One of them grinned. “Professor, is this your girlfriend?” Before Julian could open his mouth, I dug a handful of holiday candies out of my purse and started passing them around. “Not girlfriend,” I said sweetly. “Fiancée.” Their faces lit up. “Oh my God, congrats!” Julian’s jaw locked. He grabbed my wrist. “Willow. Let’s go somewhere else. Now.” I waved at the students. Told them the wedding was coming up soon. Promised to send invites. Around the corner, I saw exactly what I wanted to see—Chloe’s silhouette, shoulders shaking, wiping her face, scurrying off. Julian whirled on me. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I straightened my back. Met his eyes dead-on. “Wrong with me? We saved enough to get married, didn’t we?” “Wasn’t that the deal? Hit our number, we’re done waiting?” “Or are you backing out, Julian? Are you in love with someone else?” The last one came out as a scream. He flinched. Then his whole face went cold. “Psycho.” He took off after Chloe. Left me there. I couldn’t hold the smile anymore. I slid down the wall and sobbed. My phone exploded. Mom. I picked up. She was crying. “Willow, baby—your dad had a stroke. He needs surgery tonight, and I—I didn’t want to bother you, but the doctor says it’s bad, sweetheart, I can’t pull the money together fast enough—” No time to fall apart. I opened our joint savings, ready to send everything. Insufficient funds. There was supposed to be seventy thousand dollars in there. Our wedding fund. I’d built it from nothing. I typed the password again. Insufficient funds. I pulled up the transaction history. Three minutes ago. Julian had moved every cent. Something inside me ripped wide open. Julian came from money. Real money. People had whispered for years that I was a gold digger. To shut them up, I’d insisted on saving it myself. Every penny. Seventy grand and we marry. That was the deal. He took it without telling me. My fingers were shaking so hard I couldn’t get the call to connect. His ringtone floated toward me—he was already walking back, holding Chloe against him. I lunged. Grabbed his arm. Chloe whimpered at the bump. “Julian, where’s the money? Where is it? Do you know what—”

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My husband’s colleague called again in the dead of night. Another urgent body that couldn’t wait to handle. Liam hung up the phone and decided to leave at once. Even though he had been working non-stop for several days. “Olivia couldn’t handle it alone. Fortunately I was awake,” He said. I ignored him, staring blankly at the ceiling. Liam wrapped his arms around me from behind, his voice soft and coaxing. “I know I’ve neglected you lately, but it’s my job. I had to go.” “We’ll take a trip once all these work done, I promise.” I didn’t respond. I pulled away from his embrace and spoke coldly. “I want a divorce.” Liam froze and forced me to turn around and gripped my hands tightly. Dark circles shadowed his eyes from weeks of sleepless nights. “Emma, please don’t do this… I know you’re tired. I’m tired too.” “But this is my responsibility. You can understand that, right?” I pulled my hands free and looked away. His voice began to tremble, but he kept it gentle. “Is this because I haven’t been home for dinner? Or I forgot your birthday last week?” “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I promise once I finish this rush, we’ll take a long vacation. Just the two of us, okay?” He reached for my hand again, stroking it the way he used to after every argument. I remembered our first year of marriage when I struggled with work and insomnia. He’d sit beside me just like this, never complaining and just saying, “Emma, I’m here.” Now it felt like a sick joke. “Don’t touch me,” I said. His hand froze. “What’s wrong with you? Is this really about me leaving for work in the middle of the night?” “Emma, death doesn’t wait. What was I supposed to do, just leave a bead body alone?” “I don’t care what you say. I want a divorce.” I repeated it, my voice low but final. His eyes turned red instantly, like he was seeing me for the first time. “Are you serious?” I turned away from him, enunciating each word. “Tomorrow morning. 9 o’clock. My lawyer’s office. I will have him draft the divorce agreement.” Liam let out a bitter laugh, his voice breaking. “Emma, you owe me a reason. Is it because I am too busy? Or do you think Olivia and I—” “Leave her out of this,” I cut him off. “It’s you! You disgusts me.” His face went white. His lips trembled, but no sound came out. “Is that really what you think of me?” His voice was hoarse and strained. “Olivia and I are just colleagues.” I didn’t want to hear another word. I got up and walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. He didn’t follow and didn’t try to explain. I heard the sound of glass shattering inside, followed by a muffled curse. Then my phone rang. It was Olivia. She was Liam’s college ex and his partner at the funeral home. The phone rang for a long time before I finally answered. Her voice sounded tired. “Emma, Liam just called me in tears. Let me explain for him.” “We’ve been followed up cases from the Park Avenue lately—” I hung up before she could finish. I sat on the couch, thinking back to six months ago when he came home late from a night shift. He was so exhausted he collapsed beside me without even changing. Eyes closed, he touched my face and whispered, “Emma, thank God you’re here.” Back then, I thought we’d last forever.

By the time I woke up, Liam was already gone. The living room was spotless. Even his coat from last night was neatly hung back on the rack. There was a breakfast prepared by Liam on the table. Next to it was a sticky note: Wait for me to come home. I’ll make your favorite steak. I picked up the plate, walked to the kitchen and poured the breakfast into the rubbish bin. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from him. Emma, I’m at the funeral home. Did you have the breakfast? I didn’t reply. A few minutes later, another message came through. Once I finish this week, I’ll spend more time with you. Olivia and I really are just colleagues. I stared at the screen for a long time before finally typing back one line. 9 AM. Don’t be late. Then I blocked his number. At eight-thirty, I stood outside my lawyer’s office. People came and went. Most were couples, some clinging to each other sweetly, others staring ahead with cold indifference. I leaned against a pillar, watching the street. Nine-thirty. He didn’t show. I pulled out my phone, unblocked him, and called. It rang three times before he declined it. Rage flared in my chest. I called again. This time, it went straight to voicemail. I waited another half hour. Just as I was about to dial again, an unknown number called me. I answered. A young woman spoke rapidly on the other end. “Mrs. Vance? This is City General Hospital. Your husband Liam was in a car accident and is currently in the emergency room. We need you to come at once.” I froze, unable to process it. The voice on the line grew more urgent. “Mrs. Vance? Can you hear me? Mrs. Vance!” Before she could finish, I hung up and flagged down a cab. By the time I arrived, Liam had already been moved out of emergency surgery and into a private room. The hallway was packed with people. Several figures in dark funeral home uniforms stood in a cluster, speaking in low voices. One of them, a young woman, looked up and saw me. Her eyes immediately turned red as she rushed over. “Where the hell have you been?! Do you know Liam was calling your name the entire time he was being wheeled into the OR?!” “How is he?” I asked, looking toward the room. The woman’s eyes went wide with fury, tears streaming down her face. “What are you planning to do?!” I ignored her and walked steadily toward Liam’s bedside. He didn’t look too bad. One eye was swollen shut, but the other stared directly at me. “You came… Don’t worry. I’m okay.” I clenched my fists, pulled a manila envelope from my bag, and took out the divorce settlement and a pen. “Sign this, or I won’t pay a single cent of your medical bills.” My voice was cold and detached, drawing shocked stares from everyone in the room. The woman from earlier lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. “Liam got into that accident because he was distracted answering your call while working!” “And you have the audacity to threaten him with this?! Are you even human?!” Olivia’s face was grave. She put a hand on my shoulder. “Emma, Liam and I really are just colleagues.” “If you truly don’t believe us, I’ll resign. But you can’t treat him like this. You’re the only one in his heart.” My cheek stung with pain. I shoved her hand off. “It’s none of your business.” I walked back to Liam’s bedside and spoke again. “Sign the papers, or you may be kicked out of this hospital.” Liam’s open eye overflowed with tears. “Why?” he whispered. I looked down at him and said flatly, “Because you are so disgusting.” Liam cried harder, his chest heaving with sobs. “I won’t sign. I’d rather die than sign. I love you, Emma. I haven’t done anything to betray you.” “I already bought tickets to Hawaii… You said you wanted to go diving…” Several of the women in the room began crying softly. A sharp pain flared in my chest, but it faded just as quickly. I gritted my teeth and gripped the settlement papers even tighter. “Sign it.”

Olivia snatched the divorce settlement out of my hand and tore it to shreds. “Emma! How can you do this?! Liam just got out of surgery. He’s still weak and you can’t do that now!” I turned and glared at her. Before I could speak, Liam cut in weakly. “Olivia, don’t talk to Emma like that. This is my fault. I wasn’t a good husband.” He reached out with trembling fingers and tugged at the hem of my coat. I stepped back. “Don’t touch me.” Liam’s face went even paler. “I’ll never divorce over something this small. I already requested time off to stay with you…” Olivia stepped forward again. “We have nothing to hide. There’s absolutely nothing between us.” Her words made her sound noble and righteous, casting me as the hysterical, unreasonable wife. The others in the room looked at me with anger. I suddenly found the whole scene absurd. After a long silence, I finally spoke. “Fine. You two have nothing. But I still want to divorce.” Liam stared at me, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. Olivia lowered her voice, sounding almost pleading. “Emma, can we talk about this after he recovers? Please. I’m begging you.” I ignored her, my gaze fixed on Liam. “Sign it, or I walk out right now. Your choice.” The young woman who had slapped me earlier tried to charge at me again but was held back by someone nearby. “How can you be so cold-blooded? He just barely survived!” “”It’s his own life,,” I said evenly, almost wearily. “It has nothing to do with me.” Liam suddenly began coughing violently, his chest jerking with each breath. Olivia immediately pressed the call button. A nurse hurried in, frowning as she scanned the room. “The patient needs rest. Family members need to stay calm.” The room fell into silence again. Liam bit his lip and stared at me, but he still didn’t give in. “I’m calling our parents,” I said. “Whatever.” I turned and walked out.

I wandered aimlessly until I found myself standing outside the funeral home where Liam worked. “Mrs. Vance?” An older man approached me, though I didn’t recognize him. “Do you know me?” I asked. He scratched his head, his tone hesitant. “Your picture is on Liam’s phone case. I’ve seen it before.” I pulled out a cigarette and offered him one, forcing a smile. “Could you show me where Liam usually works?” He took the cigarette and sighed. “Come on. I’ll take you.” The room was cold. I looked around, tapping on surfaces. Accidentally, I kicked something—a Zippo lighter. I remembered Olivia had one just like it. Just then, the older man spoke up. “Last night, Liam really was handling an urgent case. I probably shouldn’t say anything, but Liam is a good kid.” I didn’t respond. Then my phone rang. It was the woman from the hospital. “Emma! Where the hell did you go?! Your parents are here now! Get back now!” “Do you hear me?!” I clutched the lighter tightly in my hand, my heart hollow and numb.

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My fiancé Alaric dragged me to the basement of the Voss estate and kept me there for seven days and seven nights. “How dare you glare at Isabella at the banquet. You deserve everything that comes to you.” With that, he gouged out my eye. No anesthesia. The pain knocked me unconscious. It was not until the eighth day that my three brothers finally showed up. Julian arrived first and slapped me across the face without a word of explanation. “Because of your attitude, Isabella had a complete breakdown last night. As compensation, I have already transferred your trust fund and every personal asset you own into her name.” Marcus came next. Ex-Special Forces, built like someone who had spent his entire life becoming a weapon. He planted his boot on my knee and pressed down until something cracked. “From today, Isabella is the only Voss heir that matters. I will not acknowledge you as my sister.” Last was my brother who practiced medicine. No one in Los Angeles dared show him anything less than respect. He was the only one who crouched down and wiped the blood from my face. But what he said frightened me more than anything my other brothers had done. “Isabella’s leukemia is progressing. She needs a bone marrow donor, and you are a match.” He held up a syringe. “This will not be comfortable.” I had no chance to speak. The needle went in. …… After the extraction, they moved me upstairs. Clean sheets, a private nurse — the kind of careful attention that arrives too late to mean anything. When I opened my eyes, Julian was standing by the window. He had dark circles he had not bothered to hide, which was unusual. Julian always appeared composed. In his line of work, it was necessary. He rarely let his appearance slip like this. “You are awake,” he said, turning around. “You gave us quite a scare.” I watched his performance without saying a word. “Do not look at me like that,” he said. “As if we have been cruel to you. Was it not you who made the first mistake — frightening Isabella into a breakdown?” “What you are going through now is simply paying for what you did.” “Everything you know about this came from Isabella alone. Did anyone ask me?” His eyes shifted for just a moment. The movement was small, but I caught it. None of what I said mattered here. Only Isabella’s happiness did. Silas walked in then, holding a tablet. “Vitals are stable. Take your medication on schedule and you will be mobile within two days.” I turned my face away. “Vivian, you have always had a strong constitution. This will not cause you any irreversible damage.” “Do not think that a few tears will earn you our sympathy.” “Or make us turn against Isabella on your behalf.” In the past, faced with this kind of misunderstanding from my own family, I would have defended myself with red eyes, crying as I insisted on my innocence. But now, there was no point. I closed my eyes and said quietly, “You can all go. I want to be alone.” For me, the fastest relief at this point was to let this broken body die as soon as possible. Julian heard something entirely different in those words. “Vivian! Are you saying this just to spite me?” He pressed down on my wound in anger. The stitching that had just been sewn together was wrenched apart, and the pain hit me in waves. Watching me convulse, a flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. His voice softened slightly. “You are my own sister. We three brothers spared nothing to find you, spent everything we had to bring you back. How could we possibly let you die just like that?” “But when it comes down to it, if you were not so petty, always making Isabella cry, how did you end up in this situation?” As he spoke, he brought a cup of something over and pried my mouth open to pour it in. “Just swear that when you go back, you will stop going after Isabella and apologize to her properly. Then I will take you home. Otherwise, you can stay here.” Listening to him speak as if he were granting me a favor, I felt a chill go through me that had nothing to do with the cold. I had suffered from a young age. Three years ago, they finally found me. They held me and wept, saying they had owed me eighteen years and would give me only the best of everything from then on. But when I arrived at the Voss household, I found there was no place left for me. Years earlier, when we were both wandering the streets, Isabella had seen the notice the Voss family put out searching for me. She locked me inside a room, took my identity, and was taken in by the Voss family in my place. For all those years, she had enjoyed the love and privilege that should have been mine. I had struggled alone in the mud. Yet no matter how she stirred things up, no matter how she performed her victimhood, my brothers always took her side and found fault with me. Even Alaric, the man I was engaged to, doted on her and treated me with ice. I was too tired of the endless entanglement and pain to waste another breath defending myself. While the sedative had not yet fully taken hold, I tore open the wound that had just been sutured. As blood and torn flesh surged out, Julian screamed. “You have lost your mind! You will die!” Watching him panic with reddened eyes, I pulled at the corner of my mouth into a faint, hollow smile. “Dying sounds wonderful.” “Every second I keep living is suffering.” After those words, I could hold on no longer. Everything went dark.

I do not know how much time passed before I woke from the darkness. When I opened my eyes, I found Julian’s cold gaze. He stood by the bed in a pressed suit, his expression impatient, though his eyes held shadows he could not quite conceal. He had clearly not slept in days. “You finally woke up.” His voice was hard. “How old are you now, acting so impulsively — making such a scene over nothing. You have embarrassed the Voss name.” The thought of having to face this nauseating world any longer drained me of all energy. I had no interest in arguing. I looked at him with empty eyes. “You are right, Julian. I am shameless. I do not deserve to be alive.” “It would be cleaner if I just died.” Julian’s expression went cold and rigid. His hand rose instinctively to strike me, but when his gaze fell on my bloodless face and the thick bandaging wrapped around my shoulder, his hand stopped in midair. “Vivian! I am warning you. Do not say things like that.” His voice trembled slightly. The impatience in his eyes faded a little, replaced by a trace of panic he had not yet noticed in himself. “I used every connection the Voss family has to get you out of that place. Not so you could lie here talking like this.” I pulled at the corner of my mouth and laughed inwardly. Every connection. He was probably only afraid that if I died, there would be no one left to serve as a backup donor for Isabella. No one to make her look like the fragile, pitiable creature that fed their need to protect her. While I was thinking this, the door opened quietly and Silas walked in carrying a cup of nutritional supplement. When he saw I was awake, a brief flicker of relief crossed his eyes, but his voice was still cold when he spoke. “Now that you are up, drink this. Do not make me force you.” He held the cup toward me. I turned my head away instinctively. “No need. It is a waste.” “You—” Silas’ hands were shaking with anger, but he did not actually force me. Instead, he placed the cup on the nightstand and reached over to carefully lift the bandaging from my shoulder to check beneath it. In that moment, his hands were surprisingly gentle. “Good. The wound is healing reasonably well with the treatment we used.” He rewrapped the bandaging, shot me a look, but his voice had softened. “Stay still. If you touch that wound again, I am done with you.” The words were harsh, but I could clearly see the shadows under his eyes. He had probably not slept properly in days either, keeping watch here the whole time. In the past, that rare gentleness would have moved me. I would have held onto him and wept through all my years of grievances. But now, I only found it grotesque. This was the man who had done this to me with his own hands. Whatever this was now, it was nothing but a crocodile’s tears. I pulled free of his hand, threw off the covers, and moved toward the edge of the nightstand. Every second spent alive in this place was suffering. Only death would give me any real release. “Have you lost your mind!” Marcus appeared in the doorway without warning and rushed over, grabbing me in one motion. I let out a muffled sound of pain. He immediately eased his grip. “Vivian! What do you think you are doing?” “I want to die.” My voice was calm. “Let me die. It is better for everyone. You will not have to struggle with this anymore, and Isabella can settle comfortably into her place as the Voss heiress and Alaric’s fiancée.” “So please, Marcus. Let me go quickly.”

Marcus went rigid. He raised his hand and struck me across the face. But compared to the boot he had pressed down onto my knee, this was almost gentle. “I will not allow it. You are the true daughter of this family. Who would dare let you die?” Silas panicked too. He stepped forward and pressed me back down onto the bed. “Vivian, stop this. I know you are in pain, but just recover properly. From now on, I will treat you better. I promise.” I looked at the plea in his eyes and found it completely absurd. Where was all this before? I closed my eyes and stopped looking at them. I let Silas pull the covers back over me, let him bring the cup to my lips — but I refused to open my mouth no matter what. While we were at an impasse, the door opened again. Alaric and Isabella came in together. Isabella was dressed in white, her face pale, occasionally coughing softly. She looked fragile and unwell. Julian immediately stood and went to her. “Isabella, you are barely recovered. Why did you come? Sit down, rest.” Isabella shook her head. Her gaze moved to me, full of guilt. “This is all my fault. If I had not said what I said that day, Vivian would not have had to suffer like this.” “I have not been able to settle, so I prepared something and came to bring it myself. It is the least I can do.” As she spoke, she took the cup from Silas and sat down at the edge of my bed. “Vivian, stop being angry with yourself. Rest and recover properly. Everything in the Voss family was always meant to be yours. I have never wanted to take anything from you.” These words sounded like a concession. In reality, every line implied that I was petty and narrow-minded, making a life-or-death spectacle over nothing. Before she could bring the cup anywhere near my lips, I knocked it away. The cup hit the marble floor and shattered. The liquid splashed across Isabella, and her wrist reddened immediately. Isabella cried out, her eyes filling as if on cue, threatening to spill over. “Vivian, how could you do this? I only wanted to help you.” She bit her lip with the look of someone who had been deeply, unjustly wronged. “Vivian! Have you gone mad!” Julian erupted. He pulled Isabella behind him and stared at me with barely contained fury. Silas rushed to check Isabella’s wrist, his face taut with worry. “How bad is it? Did the heat reach you?” “Vivian, you have gone too far. After everything Isabella has done for you, you still cannot let it go.” Marcus pressed his brow together, disappointment filling his eyes. Alaric moved to Isabella’s side, took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed at the liquid on her, then cast a cold glance in my direction. “Vivian, Isabella came here in good faith. Even if you cannot appreciate it, you had no right to hurt her.” All of them crowded around Isabella, attentive and concerned, with no thought spared for me — the one who had just had her bone marrow forcibly extracted.

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Six years of dating Caelum Voss, and he slid a document across the table. I thought it was a mate registration form. I reached for the pen, ready to sign. The heading read: MISTRESS AGREEMENT. Three-year term. On call at all times. Renewal subject to satisfaction. My fingers went cold. “Caelum. What exactly is this?” He lit a cigarette with the ease of a man unbothered by anything, his voice light and careless and cruel all at once. “The pack elders have been pushing hard. My father already arranged a status-matched bond for me. I need to register a formal mate.” “Then what am I?” My voice came out rough. He looked up and smiled, thin and without warmth. “Be fair to me, love.” “Your father abandoned your mother and came crawling back sick. You supported him. Your ex drained you dry and left you with his debts. You paid those, too.” “All I am asking is that you step into the shadows. That is not unreasonable.” The terms sat on the page in clean, merciless lines. Party B shall remain available on demand and shall not inquire into Party A’s whereabouts. Party B shall not display physical affection toward Party A in any public setting. Should Party B become pregnant, the matter shall be resolved at Party B’s sole discretion. I stared at that last line. My hand moved to my stomach without thinking. My fingertips were ice. Caelum reclined on the sofa, smoke curling from between his fingers. His eyes drifted over me. “Sign it.” He flicked the ash. “What are you waiting for?” I set the contract down. My voice shook with something I refused to call grief. “Caelum. We have been together six years.” “So?” He almost laughed. “Six years, and you still have not walked through the front door, have you?” That landed exactly where he intended. Six years. He had taken me to pack functions and family gatherings too many times to count. The introduction was always: ” My assistant.” His mother had pulled me aside more than once to suggest, warmly, that a woman my age ought to be thinking about settling down. I had believed she was nudging us toward a formal bond. She had been nudging me out the door in the most civilized way she knew. “Then what were these six years?” I asked. He crushed the cigarette out, stood, and crossed to me. “Mutual benefit.” He reached out and ran his thumb along my jaw. “Sera. You gave me six years, and I covered six years of your life. How many medical bills did your salary actually cover? That debt your ex left behind, you cleared it on my account.” He paused, then smiled. “You used me freely. Now I want to keep using you. That is an equal exchange.” My eyes burned. I did not let a single tear fall. He had not said it before, but that did not make it untrue now. My father had walked out on my mother and come back broken and old. I had been too soft to turn him away. His care had emptied every account I had. As for my ex, he had barely been more than a stranger who called us official one month and disappeared the next. I only found out he had taken out loans in my name when the collectors showed up at the doors of pack headquarters. It had been Caelum who made that problem disappear. I had always known I owed him. I had not known he was keeping score. “So,” I said, stepping back from his hand, “you are telling me these six years held no real feeling. Only investment.” Caelum laughed once. “Investment? What investment value do you think you have?” He produced a card and set it beside the contract. “Five million. Sign, and it is yours.” “Three years as my mistress. Renew after that if you want. Walk away if you do not. Either way, the money is yours.” I looked down at the card. Five million. Enough to clear every debt. Not enough to buy me. That sentence circled three times in my throat and never came out. Because I thought of my father’s care facility and the overdue notice already sitting in my bag. Caelum knew I had nothing left to pay with. That was why he could drop that card in front of me like he was tossing a bone and waiting to see if I would take it. “What is wrong?” He watched me go still, then lit another cigarette. “Not enough?” I said nothing. “Fair enough. Six years of your life, five million is not generous.” He exhaled slowly, and the smoke drifted into my face, stinging my eyes. “But that is mistress pricing. Not mate pricing. That is the number your position is worth right now.” He let that settle, then added, “Of course, you are free not to sign. If you do not, you cannot stay in the apartment either.” Something clenched hard around my chest. Six years in that apartment. I had stopped thinking of it as his. The succulents on the balcony were ones I had chosen and tended pot by pot. The spice rack in the kitchen was arranged the way I liked it. The photo on the nightstand had always been the two of us. I had believed it was our home. It turned out I had always been a tenant he could clear out whenever he chose.

“Caelum.” My voice was still unsteady. “If you have no real feeling for me, we can end this cleanly. You do not need to humiliate me to do it.” “Feeling?” He said the word as he had never heard it used seriously before. “Sera, did your father have feelings for you?” “Did your ex?” “All those people you gave everything to. Did any of them have feelings for you?” He needed me to say it out loud: every bond I had ever stretched myself thin for had never truly held. “Probably,” he answered himself, and his voice went quieter. “At least at the start.” My tears finally fell. Not because he was cruel, but because somewhere inside what he had just said, I recognized something true. “Are you signing or not?” He held the pen out, patience gone. I reached out and took it. I turned to page two, clause five: Should Party B become pregnant, the matter shall be resolved at Party B’s sole discretion. My hand paused. Caelum added offhandedly, “Do not worry. I will not let that happen. My intended mate’s family is traditional. No pups born outside a registered bond.” Intended mate. The title I had waited six years for, and it had never once belonged to me. “Caelum, what if I told you I was already…” The words reached my lips, and I swallowed them back. There was no point. I looked down and said, very quietly, “What if I told you I had already spoken with my mother and arranged a bonding ceremony for early next month. Would you still make me sign this?” “Your mother?” He almost laughed. “The one who threw herself into the river? Who exactly did you consult?” He exhaled slowly, and the smoke blurred the lines of his face. “Even without all of this, I had no intention of registering a bond this young.” “Early next month. You have quite an imagination.” I closed my eyes. Six years. We were both nearly thirty. That was not young. The bond that could never happen had been impossible from the very beginning. When I opened my eyes, my fingers had stopped shaking. I signed the final page. “Good girl.” Caelum lifted the agreement, satisfied. “Everything stays the same. The only difference is, from now on, you call me Alpha Voss.” He leaned down and pressed a cold kiss to my forehead. “Good.” He left. The door closed behind him without a sound. I stood there looking at the card on the table. Slowly, I folded down until my face was buried in my knees. Outside, rain had started. The same kind of rain that was falling the night he pulled me in off the street six years ago. That night, he had been the one holding the umbrella. Now he was the one who had pushed me back out into it. I do not know how long I stayed like that, until my legs went numb and there were no tears left. I stood slowly, walked to the bathroom, turned on the cold tap, and pressed the water against my face. I held it there until the face in the mirror was steady again. Then I picked up my phone and dialed. “Mom. You were right. I lost.” “That thing you mentioned before. You do not have to wait anymore. I am ready.” There was a pause on the line. “Are you certain? Once we begin, there is no going back.” I looked out at the rain. “I am certain.”

The next morning, I went to the care facility first. My father was in his wheelchair, being pushed through the courtyard by an attendant, letting the morning sun fall on him. He had aged past recognition. His hair had gone entirely white, and he looked like a tree hollowed out from the inside. I held out the card. “This card has five million on it. Enough for the best care facility, enough for a private nurse. I will not be coming back after today.” “Because she asked me to come to her clean.” His lips trembled. He looked as though he had a hundred things to ask. I did not give him the chance. Some memories I have no wish to touch again. “But the moment I turned to leave, the past came flooding back anyway.” I remembered the year his business collapsed, the way he knelt in front of me and asked if I could forgive him. I found it funny, in a hollow sort of way. My mother had spent herself fighting to hold on to a man, and in the end, all she received from him was one cheap word of regret. So I had promised myself I would never do what she did: beg, cling, and lose everything in the end. I was about to tell him I did not forgive him when a flash of white crossed the edge of my vision, and a van with no control came straight for me. The next second, something massive shoved me out of the way. I hit the ground hard. When I turned back, he was lying in a pool of blood, the front of the van buried into the left side of his body. He had taken the impact meant for me. That was the only reason he had ended up in that facility. The five million was not because he was my father. It was because I owed him a life.

After that was done, I went to pack headquarters as usual. Caelum walked into the operations wing while I was sorting files. He looked at me once, nothing in his expression. “Sera. Bring this quarter’s report to my office.” “Of course, Alpha Voss.” I said it without thinking twice. He stopped for just a beat. “You adjusted quickly.” He said it quietly, almost to himself. He passed me and let his fingers graze the back of my hand as he went. I did not pull away. I did not respond. Their relationship had never been a secret inside pack headquarters. Six years of him walking me out after shifts, six years of appearances at pack functions together, and everyone had known without it ever being said out loud. But because it had never been made official, his calling me Sera and my calling him Alpha Voss looked, to everyone else, perfectly appropriate. That evening, he sent me a location. I took a car there. When I pushed open the suite door, rose petals covered the floor, and a silk slip hung from the rack by the wardrobe. “She was gone, but her perfume still lingered in the air.” Behind me, Caelum’s voice came from the doorway. “Seen enough?” I turned around. He leaned against the frame, cigarette in hand, watching me with something that was not quite a smile. “The bonding ceremony is next week. I need you there to help manage the guests.”

I pulled out the calm I had been training into myself all week. “Help how?” They had hired a full professional coordination team for the engagement party. The last thing they needed was me, a former girlfriend, getting in the way. “Receive the guests. You know the pack members. Keep things running smoothly.” He exhaled slowly. “Vivienne also feels you must witness our happiness.” I laughed once. That second part was the real message. “Fine.” I took out my phone to make notes. “I will confirm the details with you at headquarters tomorrow. If there is nothing else, may I go?” Vivienne had only just left. He would not need me to stay the night. A mistress, after all, exists only to serve one particular kind of need. He narrowed his eyes. “You are not upset?” “Does Alpha Voss want me to be?” He said nothing. He stubbed out the cigarette, crossed to me, and caught my jaw between his fingers. “Sera. You have changed a great deal lately.” “Changed into something,” he tightened his grip two degrees, “that I find quite irritating.” I kept my eyes down. “Tell me what you would prefer. I can adapt.” What had drawn him to me, once, was exactly this: I had been close enough to reach for him every single day, and I never had. He had called it discipline then. Now he called it irritating. The one who had changed was never me. “Never mind.” He stared into my eyes for a long moment, then released me. “Go.” I turned to leave. He pulled me back from behind, arms wrapping around me. His chin came down on my shoulder. His voice was low. “Do you know why I would not let you go?” He meant the agreement. The one that kept me tethered. I did not know either. I had believed that without feeling, a clean ending was still possible. “Because you are too easy. You never put me in an impossible position. You never cause scenes, never ask where I have been or who I was with. Not like her, watching my every move.” His arms tightened. “Sometimes I think, if only you had come from a stronger pack line, I would not need to bond with anyone else.” I almost laughed. In the end, he was blaming my bloodline. He had forgotten that he was the one who had first reached for a woman with no powerful pack behind her. “Alpha Voss.” I gently pried his hands away. “What color do you want me to wear to the engagement party? I will prepare in advance.” His hands hung in the air between us. He was perhaps too drained from the evening to keep pulling. He let me go. Outside the hotel doors, I found that my palm had been cut by my own nails.

On the day of the engagement party, I stood at the hall entrance managing the guest registry. A glass of champagne in my hand. My eyes would not leave the pair that everyone was congratulating. In a daze, I thought back to the day I signed the Mistress Agreement. I had quietly slipped a pregnancy report into the study drawer. I had told myself that when he found it, the next step would follow naturally. A formal bond. A real future. So when he produced that document, my heart had leapt. I had been certain it was a mate registration form. High-pack alliances came with paperwork. Signing made sense. I had been willing. Because all I had ever wanted was him, not the status that came with him. I had not imagined that six years would close into a joke, and I would end up as a mistress who could not see the light of day. Near the end of the reception, Vivienne stopped in front of me with a wide smile. “You must be Sera?” I nodded, caught off guard for just a moment. “Caelum has mentioned you. He said you have been with the pack operations team for years. Very capable.” I said something polite in return. “By the way, I will not be letting him stay in that apartment from next week. We have already found our new home.” “I imagine it is not very convenient for you there anyway. You might want to start looking for somewhere else soon.” My fingertips went sharp with cold. The heat behind my eyes almost broke through. I bent over the registry instead and swallowed it back. “Of course. I will make arrangements.” Before the words had fully settled, she reached across and lifted the champagne glass right out of my hand. I had not processed it yet when she screamed. “You threw that on me!” A slap caught me across the face before I could move. When I looked up, I saw her standing there, soaking wet, eyes red, every line of her face performing injury. Half the hall had turned to look. Caelum appeared with his brow drawn. “What happened?” Vivienne pressed herself against him at once. “Caelum, I only told her nicely that you would not be at the apartment anymore and asked her to find somewhere else to go. And she threw champagne at me.” “Sera.” “I did not.” My voice had gone rough. “Are you saying she poured it on herself and then slapped you?” His logic was airtight. No one was going to believe a future Luna staged a scene at her own engagement party. And he had already decided I was defending territory that was not mine. “Apologize,” he said, cold and flat. I did not move. “Do not make this harder than it needs to be. You know what today is. If this gets bigger, it will only hurt you. Apologize, or do not come to headquarters tomorrow.” I looked at him. Six years ago, he had pulled me in off the street and told me no one would dare touch me while he was there. Six years later, he had the person who touched me pressed to his side, and he was asking me to apologize. Something freshly healed inside my chest tore open again. I lowered my head. “I am sorry. I should not have done that.” Caelum was not fully satisfied. But he turned and dispersed the crowd. “Nothing to see here. Everyone, go back.” Before he walked away, he looked at me one last time. “Go clean yourself up. Do not stand here embarrassing everyone.” I touched the swollen side of my face and the loose knot of hair the slap had scattered. He was right. What an embarrassment. But the most embarrassing thing of all was that the man I had loved for six years had convicted me in front of everyone without asking a single question. I picked up my phone and typed a message: I want to move up the timeline. Then I laughed through the tears I still had not let fall.

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