Author: Momo Chan

New Year’s Eve. My husband’s junior resident called me at midnight. “Thank you for being so understanding, Mrs. Hayes. If Marcus hadn’t rushed to be with me tonight—if he hadn’t bent the rules to get my mother that kidney—I don’t know how I would’ve survived this.” I froze. The phone felt cold against my ear. “You must be confused. Marcus had an emergency surgery in Boston tonight. He left before we could celebrate New Year’s together.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Besides, he’s always been ethical. He would never break protocol. Not even for you.” Zoey’s voice was confident. Almost smug. “No, Mrs. Hayes. I’m not confused.” “Marcus saw my Instagram story—the one where I was begging for a kidney donor for my mom. He was at the airport. He turned around and came straight to the hospital. Took him less than five minutes to make the call.” The line went dead. I stood there, staring at my phone. That’s when I heard it. Keys turning in the lock. I looked up as my husband walked through the door, still in his coat, his hospital badge clipped to his chest. My voice came out barely above a whisper. “You said… you had a surgery tonight. In Boston.” Marcus froze for two seconds. Just two. Then his shoulders dropped. “I did have plans. But when I saw Zoey’s post about her mother—I couldn’t just leave her.” He paused. His voice got quieter. “The kidney that was supposed to be yours—I redirected it. To Zoey’s mom.” Another pause. “You’re younger. You can wait a little longer.” Tears filled my eyes so fast I couldn’t blink them away. I have Stage 4 kidney cancer. He kowns how rare it is to find a match. He knows I’ve been on the transplant list for three years. When my parents begged him to use his connections as Chief of Nephrology—just once—he’d lectured them about ethics. “Life is equal,” he’d said. “I won’t play favorites. That’s not who I am.” But now? Now he’d stolen MY kidney—the one with MY name on it—and given it to his twenty-four-year-old protégé? It took me a full minute to find my voice. “Marcus. I want a divorce.” My hands were shaking. “And I’m reporting you to the medical board. Tonight.” — I turned toward the door. Marcus grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight. His expression hard. “Sienna. Stop being dramatic.” His voice was cold. Clinical. “I know you’re in pain. I know you’re frustrated. As your husband, I’m more frustrated than you are.” “But Zoey’s mother is seventy-two years old. She’s out of time. Can’t you have a little compassion?” I stared at him like I’d never seen him before. Then I screamed. “She’s out of TIME?! What about me, Marcus?!” My voice cracked, raw and desperate. “I’m on dialysis three times a week! I’m DYING! I have one foot in the grave already!” “Who’s showing me compassion?!” Tears streamed down my face. “You know if I don’t get this surgery soon, I’m going to die!” Marcus frowned, irritation flickering across his face. “Don’t rediculious,You Know I won’t let you die.” His tone was so calm. So controlled. Like I was a hysterical patient he needed to placate. “We’ll get you the next kidney. You just need to be patient.” I felt something inside me die. “Marcus. I’ve been waiting for THREE YEARS.” My voice dropped to something flat. Empty. “When my parents came to you crying—begging you to do something—what did you tell them?” I could still see it. My mother on her knees. My father, a man who’d never asked anyone for anything, breaking down in your office. “You let them kneel on the floor and beg. You didn’t even look at them.” Tears blurred my vision. “You told them they were asking you to compromise your integrity. That ‘all lives are equal.’ That you couldn’t—WOULDN’T—bend the rules.” “You said they were trying to make you into a bad doctor.” My voice shook with rage. “I believed you. I told myself you weren’t heartless—you were just principled. You were a good doctor. I was proud of you.” I stepped closer, my voice rising again. “But Zoey posts one Instagram story and suddenly you can steal a kidney off the transplant list?!” “Where’s your ‘all lives are equal’ speech NOW?!” Marcus looked away. Guilt flickered across his face for half a second. “Zoey and her mother—they only have each other. If her mother dies, Zoey will be completely alone.” He swallowed. “I’m a doctor. I had a moment of… weakness. I couldn’t let that happen.” I felt like I’d been slapped. “So you used my life to save hers?” My whole body was shaking now. “Your ‘moment of weakness’ is going to KILL me, Marcus!” “I’m going to the hospital. Right now. I’m getting my kidney back.” “DON’T.” He slapped me across the face. The force of it whipped my head to the side. Pain exploded across my cheek. I looked at him, my vision blurring. Marcus stared at his own hand, his face pale with shock. “Sienna—I didn’t mean—” He reached for my face. I jerked away from him. I tried to slap him back. But my body gave out. I collapsed. Marcus caught me before I hit the floor, panic flooding his face. “Sienna—Sienna, I’m sorry—” He laid me on the couch, his hands shaking as he fumbled for my medication. That’s when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. And answered immediately. After a few quiet words, his face went grim. “Sienna. Zoey’s mother is having a rejection episode. I need to go. Now.” He grabbed his keys, already halfway to the door. “Stay here. Don’t do anything.” He didn’t even find my pills. The door slammed shut. I was alone. I dragged myself off the couch and crawled to the medicine cabinet. My hands shook so badly I dropped the pill bottle twice. Tears dripped onto the floor. This time, I finally understood. Marcus was never coming back.

Marcus didn’t come home for three days. He didn’t call. Didn’t text. Nothing. But I knew exactly where he was. Because Zoey’s Instagram kept me updated. While I lay in bed, barely able to move, Marcus was spending every night at the hospital with Zoey and her mother. She posted a photo of their hands intertwined. She says,”Because of you, I have the courage to fight fate.” When I forced myself to the kitchen to choke down stale bread, Marcus was taking Zoey to a high-class restaurant. Nine photos. All gourmet dishes. She says,”I mentioned I never went to restaurants as a kid. He said he’d take me to taste the whole world.” When the pain got so bad I was rolling on the floor, biting down screams, Zoey posted pictures from a temple. She say,”He came with me to pray for my mother’s recovery. But I’m more grateful to God for sending me this guardian angel.” That’s when I realized—I’d missed my dialysis appointment. Marcus was too busy with his protégé to remember. I thought about the day he found out about my cancer. His eyes had filled with tears. He’d buried his face in my chest and said, “If you gone,I cannot live alone.” He’d never bent the rules for me. But he’d cared. Or so I thought. He used to remind me to take my pills. Check my vitals. Hold my hand during dialysis. When did it all change? When Zoey showed up. At first, Marcus used to complain about her. “She’s useless. Cries at the drop of a hat. Can’t do anything right.” Then his complaints turned softer. “She only has her mom. She worked her way up from nothing. It’s tough.” Then he started smiling when he talked about her. “My junior resident is kind of clumsy, but she’s got grit.” One night, he looked at me with this distant expression. “You know what I admire most about Zoey? Her vitality. I spend all day around dying patients, and she’s just… alive.” He caught my expression and backtracked. “I’m not talking about you, Sienna. Don’t take it personally.” “Once you get better, you’ll be just like her. Full of life.” But he started coming home later. And later. And then not at all. Always “too busy.” Too busy to celebrate New Year’s with me. But not too busy to steal my kidney for Zoey’s mother. I drifted in and out of consciousness. At some point, I thought I heard Marcus’s voice. Asking if I was okay. But when I opened my eyes, there was a woman standing behind him. This wasn’t a dream. Marcus had come home. And he’d brought Zoey with him.

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The syringe hits my neck before I can shift. Wolfsbane. Pure liquid silver. My knees buckle as Alpha Killian’s pack warriors pin me to the stone floor. “Hold her,” Killian orders. My body convulses. The shift rips through me—bones snapping, wings tearing from my shoulder blades. I scream as scales erupt across my skin in a wave of agony. This isn’t natural. I’m being forced into my dragon form against every instinct. “Killian—” I gasp. “Please—” He doesn’t look at me. He’s staring at Elena, his mistress, who’s coughing delicately into a handkerchief. “The Vital Scale,” Elena whispers. “It’s the only thing that can cure me.” Lies. All lies. But Killian nods. I’m paralyzed now, my dragon form sprawled across the Pack Stone. My wings twitch uselessly. My heart pounds against my chest—right where the Vital Scale sits, the scale closest to a dragon’s heart, rumored to heal anything. Killian kneels beside me. His knife gleams. “You know what this will do to me!” I scream through the haze. “We’re bonded! If you carve out that scale, I’ll—” “You’ll what?” He presses the blade to my chest. “Die? Good. I’m tired of your lies.” The knife sinks in. White-hot pain explodes through my chest. I feel the scale rip away, hear the sickening crack as he tears it free. My vision goes red. One hundred years of protection. Gone. I collapse, my human form returning in jagged bursts. Blood pools beneath me. Killian stands, holding the iridescent scale up to the light. “Only Grandfather believes your dragon guardian bullshit,” he says coldly. “You’re just a shifter who conned her way into this pack. Elena told me the truth—she’s the one who saved my life, not you.” He tosses the scale to Elena like it’s trash. I try to crawl toward him. My legs won’t work. Something’s broken inside me, something vital. “Grandfather Silas,” I wheeze. “Please… I need…” Silas appears in the doorway, his face gray with horror. “What have you done?” The old Alpha drops to his knees beside me. “Seraphina—the Dragon Pact—” “Is a fairy tale,” Killian snaps. “She’s been using you for years, Grandfather. Time to end the con.” My hair turns white in an instant, draining of color like ash. Silas grabs my hand, his weathered fingers trembling. “The protection,” he whispers. “The pack will fall without it.” I look up at him, tears streaming down my face. “Your father saved my life when I was a hatchling,” I rasp. “I swore a blood debt to protect the Thorne Pack for one hundred years. I diverted every disaster. I gave Killian my blood to pull him from his coma. I broke every sacred law for this pack.” My body starts to fade, wisps of smoke curling from my skin. “The debt is paid,” I whisper. “My physical form is destroyed. I can no longer protect you. Let me go.”

I wake up in the pack infirmary, but not for long. The wound in my chest hasn’t closed. Every breath is fire. The beta healer shakes her head. “Without the Vital Scale, your body can’t regenerate. You’re human now, Seraphina.” Human. The word echoes in my skull. Before I can process it, the door slams open. Killian’s servant storms in, dragging me out of bed by my wrist. “You’re not staying here,” he snarls. “Elena needs you.” He hauls me through the pack house, my bare feet scraping against the floor. Warriors watch with cold eyes. No one helps. When we reach his quarters, I hear them before I see them. Moaning. Gasping. Elena’s voice purrs through the door: “Now that I’ve swallowed that dragon’s Vital Scale, don’t you think my body moves like liquid? Did she seduce you like this too?” Killian laughs. “Liquid? Seraphina was never this desperate.” He shoves the door open. They’re on the bed, tangled together. Elena sees me first—sees my stark white hair, my hollow eyes—and shrieks. “Monster!” She clutches her chest, coughing violently. “She cursed me! Killian, she’s trying to kill me!” Killian’s hand cracks across my face. I hit the floor. “What did you do to your hair?” he roars. “Some kind of witch trick to make Elena sick again?” I press my hand to my bleeding lip. “It’s not a trick,” I whisper. “It’s what happens when a dragon loses her essence.” Elena sits up, wrapping the sheet around herself. Her eyes gleam with calculated malice. “Killian, I’m sure Seraphina didn’t mean it.” She coughs delicately. “But since the Vital Scale worked so well… wouldn’t Dragon Blood Soup work even better?” My blood turns to ice. “No—” Killian grabs my arm, dragging me toward the door. “Perfect idea, sweetheart.” He tosses me to the pack’s butler. “Take her to the kitchens. Bleed her. Make soup.” The butler’s grip is iron. I try to shift—to call my wings, my fire—but nothing happens. The power is gone. In the kitchen, they chain me to a chair. A blade opens my wrist. The pain is instant, searing. But worse is the heat that follows—my blood boiling in a pot on the stove, the scent of herbs and flesh filling the air. I feel every degree. Every simmer. I scream until my voice gives out. When they finally drag me back upstairs, Killian and Elena are at the dining table. The soup sits between them, steam rising. Killian looks at me with disgust. “Your acting is pathetic,” he says. “You stole Elena’s place as Luna. You stole her hundred-year lifespan blessing from the Dragon Pact. I took one scale and some blood. Do you really need to be this dramatic?” Elena spoons the broth to her lips, her eyes never leaving mine. She smiles. And drinks.

I collapse in the corridor outside Killian’s quarters. The burning sensation from the soup spreads through my veins like wildfire. I dig my nails into my thighs, biting down on my tongue to keep from screaming. Inside, they laugh. Killian’s voice drifts through the door: “You know, the Dragon Pact was supposed to grant the Luna a century of life. When I divorce Seraphina, that blessing transfers to you.” Elena giggles. “A hundred years with you? I can’t wait.” I laugh—a broken, bitter sound. They don’t understand. The Thornes were always cursed. Blood-soaked from generations of violence. Only my power held back the tide of disaster. And now that I’m broken, now that my last trace of dragon essence is being digested in Elena’s stomach— The curse will come for them all. I drag myself to my feet and stumble down the hall. Fifteen years ago, Grandfather Silas knelt at my shrine and begged me to save Killian from a coma. The boy was dying—a childhood death written in his fate. I gave him my blood. Breath by breath. Year by year. To save him, I broke sacred dragon law. I endured three days of divine lightning, nearly died, just to channel my essence into his failing body. When Killian woke, he found me collapsed at his bedside, barely breathing. He wasn’t afraid. He’d stroked my hair and whispered, “Seraphina. I’m going to marry you. I promise.” He said he didn’t care that I was a dragon. He begged Grandfather for permission. The pack whipped him with their ancestral cane until he couldn’t stand, but he kept his back straight, demanding to make me his mate. It was the first time in ten thousand years I’d felt my own heartbeat. After we mated, he treasured me. Brought me rare meats. Traced my scales when I shifted. But everything changed when Elena appeared. She’d planted a pill bottle under his bed—neurological medication—and convinced him she’d saved his life, not me. Killian threw the bottle at me. “I believed your superstitious bullshit! You’re just a gold-digger!” I reach the pack shrine now—the Treaty Site where my oath was sealed. And I smash the stone tablet with my bare hands. If I can no longer protect the Thornes, I will not accept their offerings. The stone cracks. Black smoke rises. Killian’s voice echoes behind me: “What the hell did you just do?” I turn. He’s staring at the shattered tablet, his face twisted with rage. “You destroyed the Treaty Site!” he roars. “You’re trying to curse Elena! Keep her from her hundred years!” I meet his eyes. “There is no blessing left,” I say quietly. “You destroyed it yourself when you tore out my Vital Scale.” He lunges for me.

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On our wedding anniversary, my wife finally put work aside. She agreed to go on a trip with me. Right before we boarded, she got a text. Her father was sick. “Honey, I’m so sorry. Dad’s not feeling well. I need to check on him. I can’t go with you this time.” I was disappointed. But her father’s health came first. I agreed. After she left, I tore up the ticket. I decided to go home. I wanted to see what was wrong with my father-in-law. The one who died three months ago. — I followed her all the way to our house. I didn’t rush to get out. I opened my phone instead. The housekeeper’s son was showing off on Instagram. “Your generous love is the best 21st birthday gift I could ask for!” The photo showed him in a white suit. His arms were around a woman. That woman was my devoted wife. I cracked my knuckles and got out. At the entrance, I saw a dozen people in the huge living room. Balloons hung on the walls. A group was chanting: “Kiss! Kiss!” “Come on—kiss her!” … My wife Evelyn hooked her arms around Zack Williams’ neck. She gave him a deep French kiss. The crowd erupted. When the kiss ended, Evelyn ran her fingers across Zack’s lips. She looked up. She saw me at the front of the crowd. Her eyes went wide. She tried to push away the person in her arms. I was faster. I raised my hand. I slapped her twice across the face. Everyone went silent. Zack turned around. He saw me. His face went white. He grabbed Evelyn’s arm. He hid behind her. I looked at her with a mocking smile. “I didn’t know you got yourself a new daddy.” Evelyn’s eyes darted around. She tried to explain. Then a guy with bleached hair shoved me. “Who the hell are you? Breaking into someone’s house and hitting people? Are you insane? Apologize to Zack and his girlfriend right now, or this isn’t over!” The others chimed in: “Just assaulting people like that. Is there no law anymore? An apology isn’t enough. We should call the cops.” “I agree. The police should check if he has a record. If he can hit people now, who knows what he’ll do next?” “This birthday party was going great. Then this psycho shows up and starts attacking people. Do you even know who you just hit?” I smiled at them. I turned to look at Evelyn. “You think I shouldn’t have hit you either?” Evelyn licked her lips. She was about to speak. Zack tugged her sleeve. He shook his head. I saw their little exchange. I wanted to see what they’d pull. Evelyn glared at me. “Ethan Carter, what the hell is your problem? Today is Zack’s birthday. If you have something to say, say it later. Don’t make a scene here. Don’t ruin Zack’s day. Get out!” She was afraid her boy toy would lose face in front of his friends. I laughed coldly. I stared at her. “Evelyn, where exactly do you want me to go? Or is there something you two are hiding? Something you don’t want people to know?” Zack grabbed Evelyn’s hand. He made his claim: “Ethan, I know you’ve had a crush on Evelyn for a while. Seeing us together probably hurts. But love is mutual. Evelyn loves me. We’ve been together for two years. She said once I graduate, we’ll get married. Please stop bothering her.” Evelyn didn’t expect him to say that. Her expression changed. She snuck a glance at me. Zack’s words stunned me. Today was our two-year wedding anniversary. They’d been together for two years. She’d been cheating even before we got married. She’d brought Zack and his father into our house. Under the guise of hiring a housekeeper. They’d been lying to me for two whole years. The bleached-hair guy spoke up again. “I get it now. You’re the male housekeeper at Zack’s place. The one with a crush on his girlfriend. I can’t believe you’re so shameless. Trying to steal someone’s girl in public.” I’d somehow been labeled as the male housekeeper. I actually laughed. “Zack, are you still dreaming? What makes you think I’d work as your housekeeper?”

Before I finished, someone threw a drink in my face. The bleached-hair guy held his cup smugly. “I think you’re the one who needs to wake up. We all know who Zack is. His dad runs a big business. His girlfriend owns a company. This whole mansion is his. As for you? Look at what you’re wearing. Cheap knockoffs. No brand name. You’re only good enough to sweep floors and serve people.” Cheap knockoffs? My clothes had no brand. They were custom-made by master tailors. Other girls spoke up for Zack. “Exactly. You should apologize to Zack right now. Or you’ll lose even this job.” One girl spoke up in a flirty tone: “Dude, look at how old you are. Fighting with Zack over a woman. If you’re that desperate, I can help you out. I’ve never tried a guy in his thirties. Is two hundred bucks for the night enough?” He changed his tone. He looked at Evelyn gently. “Evelyn, I may be young. But I know how to protect my woman. I’ll give you respect in public. Unlike Ethan…” His double meaning appealed to her vanity. I laughed coldly. “Good thing you reminded me. I only slapped her. I forgot to beat you up!” I grabbed his collar. I punched him twice. Hard. In his pale face. Zack covered his bleeding face. He screamed. “Ethan Carter, you dare hit me? I won’t let you get away with this!” “Keep barking.” I raised my hand to hit him again. Evelyn grabbed my waist. She shoved me hard. I lost my balance. I knocked over a champagne tower. I fell to the ground. Glass cut my hands. Evelyn didn’t even look at me. She pulled Zack behind her. She scolded me: “Ethan Carter, apologize to Zack!” I looked at my bleeding palm. I gritted my teeth against the pain. I pulled out the glass shards. One by one. Two years of marriage. Like the glass in my hand, it stabbed me. Zack looked out from behind her. He smirked at me. The pain in my palm made my voice colder: “Evelyn, you’re in my house. Throwing a birthday party for your side piece. Cheating on me right in front of me. And now you want me to apologize to him? Are you crazy? Or do you think I’m a pushover? Don’t forget. I can dress you a Billionaire. And I can make you a homeless!”

My words made Evelyn’s eyes flicker. But Zack spoke first. “Ethan, Evelyn built her company through her own hard work. Through her brilliance. She achieved financial freedom through her abilities. Don’t act like you did her some huge favor.” I froze. Brilliance? Abilities? She couldn’t even understand the simplest business plan. How was that brilliance? Financial freedom? All the money she needed to run the company came from my account. I didn’t bother explaining to him. I looked at Evelyn mockingly. “Zack is still so young. You’re taking advantage of a kid. Aren’t you ashamed?” Evelyn raised her chin. “Ethan Carter, Zack is an adult. I didn’t force him. You’re the one who’s shameless. All you know how to do is leech off your wife!” Her words made Zack’s friends look at me with even more disdain. Zack put his arm around Evelyn. He looked at me arrogantly. “Ethan, I know you’re not convinced. If you want this house, let’s do it your way. Evelyn is a successful career woman. She won’t stoop to fighting with you. But I’m a man. I can’t let you bully my woman. Let’s make a bet. Whoever has more assets loses. Dare to take it?” “What are we betting?” “If you lose, you have to kneel. Apologize to Evelyn. If I lose, you can name your terms.” The crowd roared with laughter. “Zack, you’re the best. We’ll be your witnesses. Don’t let this guy weasel out!” “Yeah, a housekeeper competing with Zack? The outcome is already decided!” I nodded. “Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Zack pulled out several property deeds. “These are houses in Manhattan. Worth over fifty million dollars. Plus various cars. About ten million. Let’s see what you have.” The crowd exploded with admiration. “Oh my God, Zack, you’re amazing!” “I heard your dad ran a company. I didn’t expect him to be this rich!” I smiled. “Think I don’t have that much?” I took out my phone. I made a call. “Come to 105 Willow Drive. Bring the property deeds and car titles.” While we waited, Zack held Evelyn. They got cozy on the sofa. Evelyn kept glancing at me nervously. She knew better than anyone what I had. I looked at her coldly. I sneered. A few minutes later, someone knocked. When my assistant walked in with several file bags, everyone held their breath. I showed the contents to Evelyn. Looking at the endless property deeds, her lips turned pale. Her voice trembled. “Ethan Carter, don’t forget. These are all marital property. Half of this is mine.” “Half is yours? Evelyn, you think too highly of yourself. Every penny of mine was earned by myself. Not a single cent came from you. Besides, I’ve never thought about using your money. But what about you? You didn’t even hesitate to use mine.” Evelyn said nothing. She sat on the sofa. Her face pale. I threw the materials at Zack’s feet. “Look at it yourself.” Zack opened it. He saw my total assets. Three billion dollars. His eyes went wide. His friends’ jaws dropped. Then Zack went crazy. “This is impossible! Evelyn, tell me this is fake!” Evelyn lowered her eyes. “It’s real. I’ve seen these things before.” Zack turned to look at me. Shocked. “You have so much money. Why did you let me humiliate you before?” I sneered. “I wanted to see if my wife still had any conscience left. Turns out I was overthinking it.” Zack dropped to his knees. “Mr. Carter, I was wrong. Please forgive me this once. I’ll never do it again.” I was about to respond. Evelyn suddenly spoke up: “Ethan Carter, Zack was forced into this. By you. He didn’t know you were so rich. He thought you were just a housekeeper. You can’t blame him for this.” She was still protecting him? I got angry. “Evelyn, I’m your husband!” “I know.” “You know and you’re still protecting him?” Evelyn sneered. “Ethan Carter, we’ve been married two years. You’ve never had time for me. Don’t you think you bear some responsibility?” I was speechless. It was true. I didn’t have time for her. But I was busy making money. For her. I wanted to give her the best. I didn’t want her to struggle. Like she did when we were poor. But in her eyes, this became a reason to cheat. I didn’t want to listen anymore. I turned and left. Behind me came Evelyn’s cold voice. “Ethan Carter, I want a divorce!”

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*Content Warning*: This story contains themes of sexual assault, drugging, emotional abuse, gaslighting, pregnancy complications, and psychological trauma. Reader discretion is advised. — The champagne tasted wrong. I should have noticed it immediately— The slight bitterness beneath the effervescence. The way my fiance Pierce’s smile. For ten years, I had loved Pierce Ashford. Ten years of waiting, watching, wanting. And tonight, finally, he was mine. The merger marriage that our families had arranged—his tech empire, my family’s investment firm—was supposed to be purely transactional. But I had transformed it into something more in my mind. I had convinced myself that he would learn to love me back. “To us,” Pierce said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. His gray eyes held mine for a moment too long, and I felt heat flood my cheeks. “To us,” I echoed, bringing the glass to my lips. The world tilted almost immediately. My vision blurred at the edges, and Pierce’s face swam before me. He was saying something, but his words came from underwater, distorted and slow. “Zara?” His hand was on my elbow, steadying me. Or was he steering me? “You look tired, darling. Let’s get you upstairs.” I tried to speak, but my tongue felt thick, useless. The Ashford estate’s ballroom spun around me—a kaleidoscope of silk gowns and tuxedos, crystal chandeliers and white roses. Our wedding guests blurred into shadows. The last thing I remembered with any clarity was Pierce’s cologne—sandalwood and something darker, almost medicinal—as he lifted me into his arms. Then: nothing. — I woke to pain. My body felt like it had been taken apart and reassembled incorrectly. Everything ached—muscles I didn’t know I had screamed in protest as I tried to move. The silk sheets beneath me were cool against my bare skin, and morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Pierce’s bedroom. Our bedroom, I corrected myself. Though it would never feel like mine. I turned my head slowly, wincing. Pierce’s side of the bed was empty, the sheets barely disturbed. Had he even slept here? Fragments of the night flickered through my mind like a corrupted film reel—shadows, voices, hands that didn’t belong to my husband. No. That couldn’t be right. I’d had too much to drink, that was all. The stress of the wedding, the champagne… But I knew alcohol. I had been drunk before. This felt different. This felt wrong. I forced myself upright, ignoring the protest from every nerve ending. My wedding dress lay in a pool of white silk on the floor, stained with wine—or something darker. I grabbed Pierce’s shirt from a nearby chair and pulled it on with shaking hands. The house was too quiet. Pierce’s Manhattan penthouse was always too quiet, too sterile, too much like a showroom and too little like a home. I made my way downstairs, each step sending fresh waves of pain through my body. That’s when I heard them. Laughter. Male voices. Coming from Pierce’s study. I moved toward the sound like a moth to flame, drawn by something I couldn’t name. Dread, perhaps. Or the terrible certainty that whatever I found behind that door would destroy me. The heavy oak door was ajar, just enough to let the cigar smoke—and the laughter—drift into the hallway. My hand froze on the brass handle. “You actually went through with it?” a voice jeered. It was Marcus, Pierce’s college roommate and current CFO. “Five of us? In one night? And she had no clue?” The world tilted on its axis. “Rohypnol is a beautiful thing,” another voice said. Daniel something—I’d met him at the rehearsal dinner. “She was so eager to please. Kept calling out Pierce’s name even when he wasn’t in the room.” The laughter that followed was obscene. My breath hitched, trapped in a chest that suddenly felt too tight. I didn’t just hear the words; I felt them like a physical blow. My legs threatened to give out, but I gripped the doorframe, forcing myself to stay upright. To listen. “Come on, man.” That was Pierce. My husband. The man I had loved for a decade. “Mia was just joking when she said whoever got Zara pregnant would win a million dollars. I didn’t think you’d all actually—” “A million dollars is a million dollars,” Marcus interrupted. “Besides, virgins conceive easy. It’s probably mine already.” “Bullshit. I went first. The kid’s definitely mine.” “You were too drunk. I’m the one who made sure to—” I stumbled backward, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle the sob threatening to escape. This couldn’t be real. This was a nightmare. I would wake up, and Pierce would be there, and he would tell me it was all a terrible dream. But the pain in my body was too real. The voices were too clear. And then I heard her. Mia Winters. Pierce’s executive assistant. The woman he’d hired six months ago, who looked at me with those wide, innocent eyes and called me “Mrs. Ashford” with just a hint of mockery. “Oh, stop fighting over it.” Her voice was light, playful. “You’ll know in a few months whose bastard she’s carrying. Though I have to say, watching the security footage was absolutely delicious. Who knew little Miss Perfect could be so… enthusiastic?” They had recorded it. They had drugged me, violated me, and recorded it. And Pierce—Pierce had let it happen. I must have made a sound—a gasp, a whimper, something—because suddenly the conversation inside stopped. The door swung open fully, and there she was: Mia, perfectly coiffed in a silk blouse that probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent, her lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach her calculating eyes. “Zara!” She pressed a hand to her chest in mock surprise. “You’re awake! We were just talking about you. Come join us.” I looked past her into the study. Five men lounged in leather chairs, drinks in hand. They all looked at me with varying degrees of amusement and something darker. Pierce sat in the center, his face carefully neutral.

“That was just locker room talk, Zara.” His voice was smooth, practiced. “We were reminiscing about the bachelor party. You know how guys get when they’ve had a few drinks.” Locker room talk. As if I hadn’t just heard them discussing raping me in graphic detail. As if my body wasn’t screaming evidence of what they’d done. I scanned the room, cataloging faces. Marcus. Daniel Wright. Two others whose names I couldn’t remember—Stanford buddies, investment bankers, men who wore thousand-dollar suits and treated women like commodities. And Pierce. Always Pierce, at the center of everything. “This is the kind of joke you find funny?” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Talking about your wife like she’s a… a breeding mare?” Marcus stood, approaching me with the confidence of a man who’d never faced consequences in his life. “Come on, Zara. Don’t be so sensitive. We’re all friends here.” He reached out to touch my shoulder, and I jerked away like he’d burned me. His hand—had that hand been on me last night? Which one of them had been first? Who had been last? “Don’t touch me.” Pierce stood then, his expression hardening. “Zara, you’re making a scene. We have guests.” “I’m making a scene?” I laughed, and it sounded like breaking glass. “I’m making a scene?” I turned and ran. I heard Pierce call after me, his voice sharp with warning, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. If I stayed in that room one more second, I would shatter completely. — Two weeks later, I stood in my private bathroom, staring at two pink lines that would change everything. The test trembled in my hand. I’d taken three more, just to be sure. All positive. All screaming the same truth: there was something growing inside me, planted during a night I couldn’t fully remember. I should have gone to the police immediately after that morning. Should have demanded a rape kit, filed charges, burned Pierce’s life to the ground. But I hadn’t. Because despite everything—despite the evidence of my own brutalized body, despite the conversation I’d overheard—part of me still couldn’t believe it. Ten years of love don’t die in an instant. They wither slowly, painfully, like a plant denied water. And now this. I made an appointment with my ob-gyn for that afternoon. Dr. Sarah—no relation to Marcus, thank God—was a woman I’d seen for years, someone I trusted. “Congratulations, Mrs. Ashford.” Dr. Sarah’s smile was warm as she pointed to the ultrasound screen. “Looks like you’re having twins.” Twins. Of course it was twins. The universe had a sick sense of humor. My husband would probably be very happy if it were quintuplets. “Is everything all right?” Dr. Sarah’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “You look pale.” “I’m fine,” I lied. “Just surprised. We weren’t really trying yet.” Another lie. We hadn’t been trying at all. Pierce hadn’t touched me since the wedding night. He barely looked at me, actually—just went to work earlier and came home later, always with some excuse about the quarterly earnings or a merger negotiation. And Mia. Always Mia at his side, with her tablet and her tight skirts and her knowing smiles. I should have called my brother first. Zander would know what to do. But instead, I found myself driving to Pierce’s office in Midtown, the ultrasound photos clutched in my hand like evidence. Evidence of what? I didn’t know anymore. Maybe I thought the babies would make him love me. Maybe I thought they would prove that night had been real, that he was their father. Maybe I was just a fool. The receptionist directed me to the executive floor. Pierce’s corner office took up half of it, all glass walls and minimalist furniture. Through the transparent walls, I could see him at his desk. He wasn’t alone. Mia perched on the edge of his desk, her hand resting on his shoulder. They were laughing about something, heads close together. As I approached, I heard fragments of their conversation. “…Can’t believe she still hasn’t figured it out,” Mia was saying. “God, she’s so pathetically naive.” “That’s what happens when you’re raised in a bubble.” Pierce’s voice was dismissive. “The Montgomery family princess, always protected, always adored. She has no idea how the real world works.” “Do you think she’ll go to the police?” Mia’s voice dropped lower. “About the wedding night?” Pierce laughed. Actually laughed. “And admit what? That she got drunk and slept around on her wedding night? That would destroy her family’s reputation. The Montgomerys guard their image like it’s gold. She’d never risk the scandal.” “Besides,” he continued, “who would believe her? Five respected businessmen versus one hysterical bride? Please.” I pushed open the door. They both turned, and for just a second, I saw something flicker across Pierce’s face. Not quite guilt. More like irritation at being interrupted. “Zara.” He stood, smoothing his tie. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.” I glanced at Mia, who hadn’t moved from her perch on his desk. “Alone.” Mia’s smile was saccharine. “Of course. I’ll just finish up these reports.” She gathered a stack of papers with deliberate slowness, letting her hand brush Pierce’s arm as she passed. The door closed behind her with a soft click. “Well?” Pierce leaned against his desk, arms crossed. The stance was casual, but his eyes were sharp. Calculating. “What’s so important that you had to come all the way downtown?” I placed the ultrasound photos on his desk. “I’m pregnant. With twins.” He picked up the images, studying them with the same expression he used to analyze quarterly reports. Detached. Clinical. “Congratulations,” he said finally. “Though two at once is rather… inconvenient.” Inconvenient. That was his response. Not joy, not even feigned enthusiasm. Just mild annoyance. “We need to do a paternity test,” he continued, pressing the intercom button on his desk. “Mia, clear my afternoon. And book appointments at GeneDx for tomorrow. All six of us.” The room spun. “What?” Pierce looked at me like I was simple. “A paternity test, Zara. Surely you understand why that’s necessary. Given the circumstances.” Something inside me snapped. All the hurt, all the betrayal, all the desperate hope I’d been clinging to—it shattered like glass. “No,” I said quietly. “I don’t think I do understand. Why don’t you explain it to me, Pierce? Explain why you think it’s necessary to test my babies’ paternity against five of your friends.” He had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Zara, let’s not do this here—” “Because that would require admitting what you did. What you all did. On our wedding night.” My voice rose despite my best efforts. “You drugged me. You let your friends rape me. And now you want to see which one of them gets to claim paternity?” “Keep your voice down,” Pierce hissed, glancing toward the glass walls. “People will hear.” “Good. Maybe they should hear. Maybe everyone should know what kind of man Pierce Ashford really is.” He moved so fast I didn’t have time to react. His hand clamped around my wrist, hard enough to bruise. “Listen to me very carefully. You’re going to stop this hysterical nonsense right now. We’re going to GeneDx tomorrow, we’re going to do the test, and you’re going to smile and act like a grateful wife. Understood?” I stared at him—really looked at him for the first time since I’d fallen in love at sixteen. The sharp jaw I’d traced with my fingers. The gray eyes I’d gotten lost in. The mouth I’d kissed a thousand times in my dreams. He was a stranger. No—worse. He was a monster wearing the face of the boy I’d loved. “Let go of me,” I said softly. “Not until you—” “I said,” I repeated, my voice dropping to ice, “let go of me. Or I start screaming rape right here, right now, in front of your entire fucking company.” He released me like I’d burned him. I stepped back, cradling my wrist. “I’ll go to GeneDx,” I said. “But not for you. For me. Because I want to know which monster fathered these children. And then I’m going to make sure every single one of you pays for what you did.” I turned and walked out, my head high despite the tears threatening to fall. Behind me, I heard Pierce swear viciously. As I passed Mia’s desk, she looked up with false concern. “Everything okay, Mrs. Ashford?” I stopped. Looked at her. Really looked at her—at the woman who had orchestrated my violation like it was a game. “You know what?” I said softly. “It will be. Soon.” Her smile faltered, just for a second. Good. Let her wonder. Let them all wonder. Because I was done being victim. Done being the naive princess who couldn’t see the snakes in her garden. It was time to sharpen my teeth.

GeneDx occupied the top floor of a gleaming medical building on the Upper East Side. The kind of place where Manhattan’s elite came to have their secrets analyzed, their genetic flaws cataloged, their inconvenient truths buried under NDAs and six-figure invoices. They were all waiting when I arrived. Pierce, Marcus, Daniel, and the other two—Ethan and James, I’d learned their names were. Five predators in Brioni suits, checking their Rolexes and pretending this was just another business meeting. And Mia, of course. Always Mia, her presence a constant reminder of how thoroughly I’d been played. “Mrs. Ashford.” The receptionist’s smile was professionally bland. “Dr. Rivera will see you shortly. If you and… your party… would like to have a seat?” My party. As if this were a social call. I sat as far from them as possible, but the waiting room wasn’t large enough to escape their presence. Marcus kept glancing at me with a smirk that made my skin crawl. Daniel was on his phone, probably texting his wife about the “emergency board meeting” that was keeping him from dinner. Mia sat beside Pierce, her hand resting on his thigh with casual intimacy. She caught me looking and smiled. “Must be so exciting,” she chirped. “Twins! Though I suppose it makes sense. You were very… receptive that night.” The magazine in my hands crumpled. “Shut up.” “Now, now.” Pierce’s voice held a warning. “Let’s keep this civil. We’re all adults here.” “Adults,” I repeated flatly. “Is that what we’re calling it?” Before he could respond, the inner door opened. Dr. Rivera appeared—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and an expression that had seen too much of humanity’s darkness to be shocked by anything. “Mrs. Ashford? Please come in. And I assume…” She looked at the six other people in the waiting room, her eyebrows rising slightly. “These are the potential fathers?” The clinical term made it sound almost reasonable. Almost acceptable. But the doctor’s eyes—they knew. She’d done this before, I realized. How many other women had sat in her office with an entourage of men, trying to sort out which violation had taken root? “Yes,” Pierce said smoothly, standing. “We’re all quite eager to establish paternity.” Dr. Rivera’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes hardened. “I see. Well, Mrs. Ashford, let’s start with you. Gentlemen, if you’ll wait here, we’ll collect your samples shortly.” I followed her into the exam room, grateful for even a few minutes of escape. She closed the door and turned to me, dropping the professional facade. “Mrs. Ashford, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me. Are you safe? Do you need help?” The kindness in her voice nearly broke me. I blinked rapidly, forcing back tears. “I’m fine.” “The situation out there—six potential fathers for twin pregnancies—that’s highly unusual. If this wasn’t consensual—” “It wasn’t,” I said quietly. “But it’s my word against theirs. And they’re very powerful men.” Dr. Rivera’s jaw tightened. “I can’t perform this test. You’re only about four weeks along. Non-invasive prenatal paternity testing requires at least ten weeks of gestation. Anything earlier risks harming the fetuses.” “My husband doesn’t care about that.” “Well, I do.” She pulled out a business card, pressing it into my hand. “This is my personal number. And this—” She pulled out another card. “—is the number for a lawyer friend of mine. She specializes in cases like yours. If you want to press charges, she can help.” I stared at the cards in my hand. Evidence. Allies. A way forward that didn’t involve being at Pierce’s mercy. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I’ll tell them the test can’t be done for at least six more weeks. That should give you some time to figure out your next steps.” She squeezed my shoulder gently. “You don’t have to go back out there alone. I can have security escort you out through the staff exit.” For a moment, I was tempted. But running wouldn’t solve anything. Pierce would just find me, drag me back, make me perform my role as the dutiful wife. Unless I stopped running. Unless I became someone he couldn’t control. “No,” I said, straightening my spine. “I’ll face them. But thank you. For everything.” Dr. Rivera nodded, respect flickering in her eyes. “You’re stronger than you know, Mrs. Ashford. Don’t forget that.” We returned to the waiting room together. Seven pairs of eyes fixed on us immediately.

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On my wedding day, Stella’s childhood friend Marcus crashed the ceremony and announced that the baby in her belly was his. She took his hand. Didn’t deny it. Canceled the wedding right there in front of everyone. “Julian needs this child for his green card application,” she said, calm as ice. “Once he gets citizenship, then I’ll marry you.” Everyone assumed I’d wait for her like a pathetic fool. They had no idea that same night, I accepted my family’s arranged marriage and left New York. Vanished from her world completely. …… Five years later, I’m back in the city to finalize a major acquisition. My wife—renowned cardiac surgeon Dr. Charlotte Reed—is here to perform a groundbreaking surgery. She’s three months pregnant. Exhausted from the flight. So I personally prepare her a gourmet lunch and bring it to the hospital. That’s when I run into Stella for the first time in five years. Her expression shifts from disbelief to arrogance in seconds flat. “You actually came back?” Her voice drips with superiority. “It’s been five years. Marcus’s kid is in kindergarten now. If you behave and take care of him properly, I might let you back into my life.” Her gaze holds absolute certainty. Smug satisfaction. She thinks one snap of her fingers and I’ll come crawling back. Five years ago, she would’ve been right. Not anymore. “Stella, isn’t that Julian Smith? The guy who used to worship you?” “Told you. No matter how long it’s been, he’d come crawling back eventually.” Stella looks at me with triumph and confidence. Like she predicted this exact moment. Three of her friends surround her. Their eyes scan me up and down without shame. Judging. Mocking. “I remember Julian threw a tantrum and stormed off back then, right? Now he sees Stella made Chief of Surgery and comes back with his tail between his legs?” “Look at this elaborate ‘coincidence.’ What’s he even wearing? Ratty clothes to meet our Stella?” “Just look how pathetic his life is now. Without Stella, who’d treat him this well?” Their mockery washes over me. I don’t care. I’m wearing a loose T-shirt and comfortable jeans. My hair’s a bit messy—I didn’t bother styling it. Nothing like the old me who’d dress up meticulously just to see Stella. Can’t help it. My wife’s pregnant. As her husband, I handle everything personally to make her comfortable. “Stella, weren’t we supposed to meet Dr. Reed? Let’s not waste time on him.” The reminder makes Stella snap to attention. She gives me a dismissive look. “Stay close. You’ll be taking care of me and Marcus’s son from now on.” She assumes I’ll follow her around like a trained dog. But five years changed me. I’m not the fool who loved her enough to tolerate anything. Now? Every extra second near her feels suffocating. Like talking to an idiot. I tighten my grip on the insulated lunch box. This is for my wife. Ever since she got pregnant, she’s been obsessed with my cooking. If I wait any longer, it’ll get cold. I turn to leave— Marcus bursts out of the hospital entrance. Sees Stella at the door. His face lights up. Then he sees me. The smile vanishes. “Well, well. Julian Smith. After all these years, you finally came back?”

There’s surprise in his voice. But I catch the flash of disgust in his eyes. Before I can speak, he continues: “You heard our son was sick, so you came to bring food? How thoughtful.” His gaze lands on the thermal container in my hands. Pride and smugness flash across his face. Like he’s reading my mind. “Hand over the food. Then go wash the kid’s clothes.” He doesn’t just order me around—he reaches out to grab the container from my hands. I step back instinctively. “What are you doing?” Stella frowns at this. Then her expression smooths. “Fine. Since you brought food anyway, take it inside.” “Take good care of our son.” “Five hundred dollars a month salary. More than enough for a single guy like you.” Her words make her friends burst out laughing. Their eyes fill with mockery. Like they’ve found a fun new toy. “See? Five hundred! Better than whatever you’re making now—can’t even afford decent clothes!” “Right! At least you’ll get some meals! If you’re willing, maybe Stella will let you earn extra on the side.” Their gazes crawl over me without restraint. The discomfort makes my skin crawl. Marcus flashes the Rolex on his wrist. “Julian, see how good Stella is to you? Five years later, she still wants to help you out.” His voice turns cruel. “Just take care of our kid. Don’t worry about anything else. You’re not going to bully a little boy, are you?” Stella laughs coldly. “Grown some backbone, haven’t you? ” “Got your feelings hurt over nothing and ran away like a baby.” “Now you can’t make it on your own and want me to bail you out. Of course there’s a price.” Her words hit like a punch to the chest. Nothing? At our wedding, my bride announced she was pregnant with another man’s child. Humiliated me in front of everyone. Canceled the ceremony. Made me wait. That’s nothing? The Stella who once loved me is dead. She’s not the girl who’d rush over in a thunderstorm to take care of me when I had a cold. Not the one who confessed her love to me on stage at the school festival, telling the whole world I was the only one she’d ever love. Not the one who’d learn nutrition and plan my meals because she cared about my health. But that was five years ago. Time to let it go. Especially since my wife and I are about to have our first child. I step back to walk around them— But they block my path. “Where do you think you’re going? Aren’t you here to bring food to my son?” Marcus grabs my arm. The sudden movement nearly makes me stumble. I jerk away from his touch, disgusted. That’s when he spots the label on the container—For my darling Dr. Reed. “Dr. Reed? You’ve got some nerve! Everyone knows Dr. Reed just got back to the States. Already trying to suck up to her?” Marcus puts two and two together. There’s only one Dr. Reed at this hospital. Charlotte Reed. “Everyone knows Dr. Reed is married. And you’re still trying to get close to her?” Stella’s face darkens. Anger flickers in her eyes. “Have you no shame?”

I shake off Stella’s hand. Marcus spots the watch on my wrist. Grabs it. “Patek Philippe?” He freezes for a second. Then immediately denies it. “Impossible! This particular Patek Philippe is called the King of Watches. The Reed family won it at a Christie’s auction.” “When the Reeds bid on it, they made global headlines. They said it was a wedding gift for their son-in-law.” “Worth three hundred million! A symbol of their marriage!” His voice gets shrill. Jealousy burns in his eyes. But he shakes his head. “Your replica is pretty good, I’ll give you that. But wearing it around like this? Aren’t you embarrassed?” “Feels real too. Almost perfect.” “But Julian, do you really think wearing a fake Patek Philippe will make you Dr. Reed’s husband?” Laughter erupts around us. They don’t believe for a second that I could be the legendary Mr. Reed. Charlotte Reed is a world-renowned cardiac surgeon. Five years ago, I was chasing after Stella like a lovesick puppy. Willing to do anything for her. I got humiliated at my own wedding. Became a joke. There’s no way someone like me could be connected to Charlotte Reed. “Nice work. I’ll buy it from you. Full price.” I don’t have time for this. I try to grab the watch back. “Impossible! Charlotte gave this to me!” Marcus deliberately yelps in fake pain. Then Stella’s hand cracks across my face. My ears ring. Burning pain spreads across my cheek. I clench my fists. My upbringing won’t let me hit a woman. “Are you insane? Dr. Reed isn’t someone you can just claim to know!” “You’ve got some nerve trying to associate yourself with her!” Stella’s voice shakes with fury. Her friends glare at me. Their contempt is palpable. “Julian, I’m asking Dr. Reed to help my son! You hear me?” “If you piss her off and she refuses to treat him, I swear I’ll make you pay!” “If something happens to my son because of you, I’ll kill you myself!” I narrow my eyes at them. Stella’s never seen this look from me before. She finishes her tirade, then suddenly looks uncertain. Scared. Marcus rushes forward. “Julian, you lunatic! You hurt me, fine. But now you’re trying to drag Dr. Reed into this to hurt us?” “I know you’re mad about Stella leaving you at the altar. But you can’t frame her like this!” “Our son is innocent! He never did anything to you! Why are you trying to destroy us?” Tears stream down his face. He looks pitiful.

Seeing Marcus like this takes me back five years. Back then, whenever he cried and played victim, everything became my fault. Even when he was always the one who started it. At first, Stella would take my side. But as time went on and her feelings for me faded, she’d turn on me too. Just like now. Stella’s face hardens. “You’ve really disappointed me. How did you become this person?” She doesn’t continue her verbal assault though. She glances at me. “Apologize to us now. We’ll forgive you. You can still be our son’s nanny.” “Otherwise, I have plenty of ways to make sure you can’t survive in this city.” She stares down at me like I’m an insect beneath her feet. I frown. “I haven’t done anything wrong. And as for the nanny job? Find someone else. I’m not interested.” It’s not that I don’t want to fight back. But this is in front of Charlotte’s hospital. I don’t want to cause trouble for my wife. But I won’t let this slide. My phone buzzes. Charlotte’s message pops up—she’s got an emergency trip, won’t be at the hospital for two days. Don’t bother bringing lunch, save myself the trouble. Her words are so warm. My heart softens. I turn to leave. Marcus won’t let it go. “What? Not bringing food to Dr. Reed anymore?” His mocking tone makes me frown. “Don’t you know Dr. Reed’s out of town?” I throw it back at him. Stella’s eyes bore into me. “I don’t know where you got that information. But two days from now, the Reed family is holding a gala. They’re introducing Dr. Reed’s husband to everyone.” “Take this money. Buy yourself some decent clothes. Come with me to the event. See for yourself who Dr. Reed’s real husband is. Maybe then you’ll give up.” I shake my head. “No thanks.” She looks stunned that I’d refuse her. Offended that I’d embarrass her like this. She grabs Marcus. “Since you don’t know what’s good for you, I’ll take Marcus instead.” “Don’t worry, I’ll behave perfectly. I won’t embarrass you!” I’m done listening to this. I turn and walk away. Stella’s voice calls after me: “Two days from now, let’s see if you’re still so arrogant!” I ignore her. Get in a taxi. Five years ago, my family arranged a marriage for me. I begged them. They finally agreed to let me marry for love. They gave me three months. I convinced Stella to marry me. We rushed to plan the wedding. Then Marcus destroyed everything at the last minute. She wanted me to wait until Marcus’s child was born and registered for citizenship before marrying me. Left me alone at the altar. That night, my parents sent me overseas. Into an arranged marriage with Charlotte Reed. I threw myself into the family business. That’s why we waited five years to have a child. Five whole years before the baby in her belly now. If it weren’t for her mentor’s invitation, I never would’ve agreed to come back for this surgery. And I never would’ve run into Stella.

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The year I graduated summa cum laude, the government launched the Federal Frontier Placement program. My fiancé sent me to a godforsaken outpost in Alaska for seven years—so his best friend’s sister could keep her cushy position in DC. When I returned, he proposed to me in front of everyone at our university reunion. The crowd erupted in applause. They expected me to say yes with tears streaming down my face. After all, I’d been the one chasing Julian Vance. The general’s daughter who’d boldly confessed her love. The one who’d pursued the untouchable professor until he finally gave in. But they’d forgotten something. Seven years ago, Julian replaced my placement assignment with another woman’s. Made me take her spot in exile. He even threatened to fabricate evidence against my parents—destroy their decorated military careers—if I didn’t go quietly. He forced me onto that plane. Seven years in frozen hell. Now his best friend was telling me: “After you left, Professor Vance used every connection he had to make your placement more comfortable.” “He never married. He waited for you.” — I stared at Marcus, Julian’s friend, as he rambled about sacrifices I never asked for. My expression stayed flat. Detached. Marcus’s voice climbed higher. Desperate. “Aren’t you moved? He did all of this for you!” His volume drew stares from our former classmates at the Waldorf ballroom. Curious. Judgmental. I hadn’t heard Julian’s name in seven years. It felt foreign now. Like someone else’s past. Even the burning love I’d once felt for him had crystallized into indifference. Seven years ago, I’d boarded that military transport alone. Designer luggage in hand. Heart shattered into glass. Almost no one knew I’d gotten married while I was gone. So I didn’t know if Marcus was freelancing—or if Julian had sent him to remind me of all his supposed devotion. I waved dismissively. “Julian and I were young and stupid. Ancient history.” No nostalgia. No warmth. The ballroom went dead silent. You could hear champagne bubbles pop. Julian and I had grown up together in the same military compound. Childhood friends who’d become something more. I’d been an only child. Spoiled by two decorated generals. Confident. Fearless. I’d believed that if I wanted something badly enough, I could have it. So I’d chased him relentlessly. Packed gourmet lunches. Dragged him to gallery openings. When his mother got breast cancer, I’d begged my parents to pull strings—got her into Johns Hopkins with the country’s best oncologist. I’d cooked for him every night while he stayed at the hospital. Organic, from-scratch meals he barely touched. When debutantes showed interest, I’d shut them down fast. Territorial. Possessive. He’s mine. When he wanted to teach, I’d asked my father to smooth his path at Georgetown. Finally, he’d softened. The cold, distant Professor Vance started reminding me to wear warmer coats. Took care of me when I had the flu. Tolerated my mood swings. Accepted my aggressive affection. When people called me “shameless” or “desperate,” he’d defend me publicly. He’d take me to the Kennedy Center on his days off. Introduce me to his colleagues as his girlfriend. I’d thought we’d walk hand-in-hand into forever. Then three months before the Frontier Placement lottery, Ivy appeared. She’d been Julian’s middle school classmate. His “one that got away.” I’d trusted him too much to see the danger coming. I’d even tried to befriend her. Naive idiot. But then he stopped making time for me. Dodged my calls. On our two-year anniversary, he canceled our reservation at Le Bernardin. Said he had departmental obligations. Something felt wrong. He’d told me days earlier that he was free that night. That the dean wouldn’t schedule anything important—not with my father’s influence protecting his career trajectory. Suspicious, I drove to Georgetown to find him. His colleagues said he’d taken personal time. Gone to Georgetown Park. I ran there in heels. Found Julian and Ivy walking side by side through luxury boutiques. Shopping bags with designer logos. Laughing like lovers. His sister was with them, grinning at Ivy. “You and my brother are totally perfect together! Are you gonna be my sister-in-law now?”

Ivy covered her mouth, giggling behind French-manicured nails. Julian glanced at his sister. “Don’t tease.” But his tone wasn’t scolding. It was indulgent. Almost proud. He didn’t shut it down. My chest tightened. Each breath felt like swallowing shattered glass. He must’ve felt my stare burning into his back. Turned around. Saw me standing there with mascara-streaked cheeks. No guilt on his face. No apology. Just irritation. “What are you doing here, Keira?” That tone shattered the last piece of my heart. I was the beloved daughter of General Raymond Ashford. West Point legacy. Old money. I didn’t take disrespect lying down. I walked up to him. Voice dripping acid. “Is this your ‘departmental obligation’?” He frowned. “Ivy’s the new archival manager. The dean asked me to help her acclimate. This is work.” “Can you stop being unreasonable?” I stared at him like he’d grown a second head. He’d never spoken to me like this before. Never humiliated me publicly. Seeing my shock, he softened slightly. Grabbed my hand. “Keira, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” I yanked my hand back. “Then what did you mean?” “If you were busy, you should’ve told me the truth. Not lied to my face.” He held my hand tighter. “I’m not lying. The dean asked me to help her settle in today. And I wanted to pick out your anniversary gift—I know I’ve been neglecting you lately.” His words were honey. Sweet enough to drown in. But I kept thinking about his sister calling Ivy “sister-in-law.” “What about that?” I demanded, voice cold steel. “Why was she calling Ivy that?” His sister shot me a dirty look. Like I’d stolen her favorite Birkin. Julian sighed. “She’s just joking around. You know you’re the only one for me.” He squeezed my hand. “Let me finish helping Ivy, then I’ll come cook dinner for you tonight. Deal?” He rarely cooked. He was always too consumed by research. My anger melted like snow. I was about to agree when Ivy rushed forward, eyes glistening with crocodile tears. “Keira, I’m so sorry! The dean was worried I wouldn’t adjust to DC, so he asked Julian to mentor me. If it bothers you, I’ll request someone else.” She ducked her head. Wiped manufactured tears with a Hermès scarf. Julian’s sister exploded. “Why are you bullying her? You bully my brother, and now you’re attacking Ivy too? What’s wrong with you?”

I froze. I’d always been generous to his sister. Bought her whatever she wanted from Saks. And this was how she saw me? Julian let go of my hand. Walked over to Ivy. Comforted her with soft murmurs. Patted her head like she was made of porcelain. Within minutes, she was smiling again. I felt nauseated watching them. That night, Julian did cook for me at my penthouse. But I couldn’t eat a bite. He kept bringing up Ivy. “She helped me tremendously during my awkward middle school years. I’m just returning the favor.” “You’re the only one I love. You know that, right?” He held my hand across the marble countertop. Looked into my eyes with perfect, practiced sincerity. I caved. Nodded like a fool. Then he pulled out a small velvet box. Inside was his Alpha Phi academic signet ring—his first major scholarly achievement. “I want to use this to propose,” he said, voice soft. “Today’s our two-year anniversary. I want fifty more years with you. I’ll give you everything you deserve.” He pushed the ring toward me. My heart warmed despite everything. I accepted it. “Okay.” He pulled me into his arms. All my doubts dissolved into smoke. I thought that warmth would last forever. It didn’t. After that day, he and Ivy were inseparable at Georgetown. Commuting together in his BMW. Spending weekends antiquing in Alexandria. Intimate gestures. Familiar touches that should’ve been mine. They looked like the real couple. Rumors spread through the military compound: Julian and I had broken up. He’d dumped the general’s daughter. Before I could trace the source, Ivy showed up at my apartment. She was holding a ceramic dish. Smiling sweetly like butter wouldn’t melt. “I made pot roast for Julian. Thought I’d bring some for you too.” I took the dish, tried to close the door. She pushed her way inside on designer heels. The smile dropped like a mask. “You’re the one chasing him, you realize. He only agreed to date you because you wouldn’t leave him alone.” “You’re bold, I’ll give you that. But you’re also pathetic.” “Anyone with eyes can see Julian loves me, not you. If you were smart, you’d bow out gracefully.” I wanted to throw her pot roast in her smug face. But I held back. Physical violence would be beneath my breeding. She stepped closer, Chanel perfume suffocating. “Fine. I’ll prove it to you. Let’s see whose name is carved in his heart.” I told Julian everything that night. He didn’t believe me. Accused me of lying out of jealousy. “I know you don’t like Ivy, but you can’t slander her character. She’s always been kind and gentle.” His voice was angry. Disgusted. “I thought you were better than petty jealousy, Keira. You’re disappointing me.” His words were knives twisting. “You think I’m… disappointing?” I whispered, voice breaking.

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Five years after leaving the country, I returned to attend Mrs. Sterling’s birthday gala at the Plaza. My former fiancée Sierra Sterling—the childhood sweetheart I’d been engaged to since we were eight—pulled out a custom-designed Tom Ford tuxedo and proposed to me in front of everyone. The ballroom erupted. Gasps. Whispers. Champagne flutes frozen mid-air. They all expected me to fall to my knees in tears of joy. Say yes. Beg her to take me back. After all, I’d loved Sierra Sterling with the kind of desperate, embarrassing devotion that became Manhattan society legend. But they seemed to have forgotten something. Five years ago, at our wedding, she ripped the custom Armani suit off my body in front of three hundred guests. Stomped on it with her Louboutins. For another man. She publicly accused me of academic fraud. Scientific misconduct. Patent theft. The wedding was canceled. I stood there in front of everyone—judged, mocked, destroyed. That day, I left for Europe alone. But now that I’m back, Mrs. Sterling grips my shoulder with her perfectly manicured hand and says: “Ethan, Sierra missed you terribly these past five years. Even after what you did, she never forgot you.” “After you left, she spent a fortune burying those scandals. If you’re willing to give her another chance, the Sterling family will give you an even grander wedding than before.” — “Ethan Quinn, will you marry me?” When I don’t answer, Sierra repeats her proposal. Voice dripping with manufactured emotion. Mrs. Sterling watches me with expectant eyes. Like I’m a charity case who should be grateful. I thought seeing Sierra again would make me angry. But standing here, looking at her holding that tuxedo like a peace offering, I feel… nothing. Absolutely nothing. The ballroom falls silent. Eyes boring into me. Some curious. Most waiting for the drama. When I left New York five years ago, I never came back. They don’t know I’m married. That I have a daughter. So I don’t know if Sierra orchestrated this public proposal herself—or if she’s planning to humiliate me again for sport. A flash of mockery crosses my expression, but I keep my face polite. Detached. “Thank you for the honor, Miss Sterling. I was young and foolish back then. I don’t have those feelings anymore.” The room explodes. “WHAT? He rejected her? Is he insane?” “Didn’t he literally beg her to marry him for years? Now she’s proposing and he said NO?” Everyone stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Because five years ago, I did more than a few foolish things for Sierra Sterling. I made waves that rippled through all of Manhattan’s elite circles. Like the time I spent nine million dollars on fireworks at the Brooklyn Bridge. Spelled out “SIERRA STERLING” in the sky for her birthday. Or when I hired drones to fly over Times Square for an entire month, displaying “SIERRA & ETHAN” on continuous loop. Two weeks before our wedding, I bought every digital billboard in Manhattan. Had our engagement photos rotating 24/7. At twenty-five, I loved her like a man possessed. Wanted the whole world to witness our perfect love story. Never imagined she’d betray me. After all, this was Sierra Sterling. My first constant. My childhood promise. She learned my name before she learned most words. Learned how to spell “Ethan” long before she cared about spelling her own. Growing up, she was always just… there. Reminding me to take care of myself. Quietly fixing the things I forgot. Folding my shirts without being asked, like it was simply part of loving me. For twenty years, we were closer than siblings. More in sync than most married couples. Even when I became the notoriously strict Professor Quinn at MIT, with her I was still the little boy who called her “Sierra Bear” and chased her around with flowers. Always tender. Always devoted. Always hers. The year our love burned brightest, we stood at the Love Lock Bridge in Paris and vowed to be together forever. I believed love like ours was eternal. Until one month before the wedding, when Liam Carter was brought into the Sterling household as their ward.

Supposedly he was the orphaned son of Mr. Sterling’s old army buddy. His father had saved Mr. Sterling’s life, so they took Liam in out of obligation. At first, Sierra and I were both kind to him. I even took him to Knicks games and taught him to golf. But somehow, somewhere along the way, Sierra started spending more and more time with Liam. She started bringing him on our dates. Our private dinners for two became dinners for three. On Valentine’s Day, Sierra promised to come with me for the final fitting of the custom tuxedo she’d designed for our wedding. I called her a hundred times. Waited in our penthouse for two hours. All I got was a text: “Something came up. Rain check.” Frustrated, I went to the tailor alone. And found Liam Carter standing there wearing MY custom tuxedo. Sierra adjusting his collar. Her cousins circling him like vultures, calling him “brother-in-law.” Their praise and laughter made it seem like Liam and Sierra were the engaged couple. And I was the outsider. Rage and humiliation burned through me. My vision went red. “Do you even remember I’m your fiancé?” I demanded, voice shaking. Sierra finally looked up from Liam. No guilt. No shame. Just… annoyance. “I told you something came up. Why are you here?” “Can you stop being so paranoid and jealous all the time? You’re acting pathetic. Like a child.” I’m Ethan Quinn. Son of Wall Street legend Marcus Quinn. MIT’s youngest tenured professor. I don’t take disrespect from ANYONE. “Sierra Sterling, who gave you permission to talk to me like that?” “Your ‘something’ was spending time with Liam? Making him wear MY tuxedo?” My voice cracked. By the time I finished speaking, I’d crushed my phone screen in my fist without realizing it. Sierra instinctively grabbed my bleeding hand. But her tone was still accusatory. “Ethan, stop making a scene. You always do this. I’m tired of placating you.” “I just had Liam try on the tux for sizing. Why are you throwing a tantrum over something so small?” I was so shocked I forgot to respond.

Sierra Sterling was lecturing me. Blaming me. For twenty years, no matter what I did, she never said a harsh word to me. Spoiled me rotten. But now she’s calling me unreasonable in front of all these people. Like she’s forgotten that she’s the one who MADE me this way. My silence stretches too long. Sierra’s expression softens with regret. “Ethan, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” “But you accused me without knowing the full story. That hurt.” I force myself to stay calm. Decide to hear her explanation. “Then explain. Why did you cancel on me today?” Sierra soothes me by squeezing my fingers. Kisses my cheek. Then launches into her story: “Ethan, didn’t you notice the sapphire cufflinks on the tux came loose? The original technique wasn’t securing them properly, so I switched to a new method. I needed a model to test if they’d hold, but my usual model canceled. So I grabbed Liam as a last-minute substitute.” Her tone is earnest. Gentle. It sounds… reasonable. My anger cools. But I’m still not satisfied. “Then what about your cousins calling him ‘brother-in-law’?” “Oh, Ethan.” Sierra rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re so spoiled. My cousin was talking about getting a tux FOR the brother-in-law—meaning YOU. You’re taking it out of context.” She puts on a wounded expression, teasing me with her eyes. I’m already embarrassed about my outburst. Now I just want to grab her hand and leave. But before I can touch her, Liam steps between us. Trembling. Eyes wide with fake fear. “Ethan… this is all my fault. I offered to be Sierra’s model. Please… hit me if you want. Just don’t be angry at her.” Liam stares at me like a kicked puppy. The people around us glare at me like I’m a monster. Even Sierra reaches out to comfort Liam while gently suggesting I leave. Later, Liam bought me an expensive watch as an apology. Mrs. Sterling came to our penthouse to explain everything personally. But something felt off. They were apologizing to me, sure. But their words were laced with protectiveness toward Liam. “Ethan, you know Liam is the son of the man who saved my husband’s life. His father is gone now, and Liam’s alone. We have to take care of him.” “Besides, the Carter family saved us. Liam is part of our family now. If he gets mistreated here, people will talk.” Sierra nodded along eagerly. “Exactly, Ethan. Liam’s young. We should be looking out for him.” “Plus, you’re about to marry me. You’ll be his brother-in-law soon. Why fight with a family?” What could I say to that? Sierra looked so sincere. I let it go. Sierra smiled. Took an emerald ring from a velvet box and slid it onto my finger. “There. Is Mr. Quinn done being grumpy now?” I felt the warmth of her touch and finally relaxed. I handed her a folder. “Sterling Industries wants to expand into tech, right? This is my latest research from MIT…” Before I could finish, Sierra threw herself into my arms. “Ethan, I love you!” Her enthusiasm made me blush. I was so focused on our future together. I didn’t realize her love wasn’t exclusive. That it was quietly shifting toward Liam Carter.

Her Instagram became a shrine to Liam. Photos of them together every single day. Rumors started spreading through Manhattan’s elite circles: The Quinn-Sterling engagement was off. The Sterling family was planning to marry Sierra to their ward instead. I heard the whispers and wanted to confront the Sterlings immediately. But before I could, Liam showed up at my MIT office. Gone was the scared, timid boy from a week ago. Now his expression dripped with smug satisfaction. “Ethan, you’ve heard the rumors, right? That’s not just the Sterling family’s intention. It’s Sierra’s too.” “If you don’t want to embarrass yourself, cancel the engagement.” I clenched my fists to control my rage. I’d promised Sierra I’d be patient with Liam. But Liam misread my silence as weakness. His smile widened. “Still in denial, Ethan? Don’t worry. You’ll see Sierra’s choice soon enough.” I snapped. My fist connected with his jaw. “Get out.” Liam stumbled backward, shocked that I’d actually hit him. He fled. Furious, I opened my phone and sent Sierra the audio recording of Liam’s taunts. Waited for her to apologize. But instead of apologizing, she questioned me. “Ethan, is there some misunderstanding?” “Liam’s always been kind and thoughtful. He’d never do this. Are you sure someone didn’t trick you?” I stared at the screen in disbelief. Twenty years of history. Audio evidence. And she still chose to believe Liam over me. She doubted ME for a kid she’d known less than a month. I threw my phone across the room. Decided I was done trying. That night, Sierra flew five hours from a conference in London to New York just to smooth things over. When I saw her exhausted face at my door, I couldn’t turn her away. The moment I opened the door, she kissed me. Deep and desperate. We didn’t pull apart until we were both breathless. “Ethan, I only see Liam as a brother. I’d never have feelings for him. You believe me, right?” “But he’s my father’s savior’s son. There are things I can’t control. You understand, don’t you?” “Besides, we’re getting married next week. You wouldn’t abandon me now… would you?” She looked up at me with those wide, pleading eyes. So careful. So vulnerable. My resolve crumbled. I chose to believe her unconditionally. I didn’t know that trust wasn’t mutual. That she was about to push me into hell with her own hands.

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I was about to sign the rejection papers when my wolf’s voice filled my mind. He’s suffering in silence. Every cold word breaks his heart. He loves you more than his own life. Our Alpha loves us! Why can’t you see he’s protecting us? He’s dying inside! His eyes are red. He’s devastated. We’re the only one he’s ever loved. I stared at the papers, then at the man across from me—the Alpha who’d left me and our daughter to die in rogue territory so he could rush his precious Serena back to safety. He was the same man who hadn’t even looked at me since. My wolf whimpered in my mind, defending him as always. Killian’s expression remained cold as ice. He watched me hold the pen without making any move to stop me. “After you sign, I’ll stay at the North Wing. Take your time moving out.” His voice was flat, carrying not even a hint of emotion. This was how he’d been since we mated. He never looked at me and never said he cared. Even when we conceived Lily, it felt like nothing more than Alpha duty. The only person he ever showed emotion for was Serena—the girl who’d been raised as his sister until they discovered she wasn’t blood-related. I’d been ready to sever the bond completely, but then my wolf started screaming at me. In three years of marriage, Killian had looked me in the eye maybe five times. Now my wolf claimed he loved me desperately. It was laughable. When we first mated, I’d loved him and couldn’t help myself. My wolf had been so happy, so certain we’d found our perfect mate. So I decided to try one last time. “Killian, can you just stop putting Serena first? Please?” His jaw tightened in irritation. “Serena is my sister. The pack knows the truth now—that she’s not blood—and they’ve made her life hell. She’s struggling, and she needs support. Why can’t you be more understanding? Why do you have to compete with her?” My heart twisted painfully. With me, Killian was always irritated and impatient. How could someone like this possibly love me? Yesterday we’d gone to the Moon Temple for blessings. Halfway there, Serena had a panic attack. We had no guards nearby, so Killian ordered me and Lily out of the car so he could rush Serena to the pack healer. Lily and I got lost in the rogue wilderness and barely survived the night. When we finally made it back, Lily collapsed with a fever. She still hasn’t woken up. I had decided to give up this relationship. I picked up the pen again to sign the papers. A servant burst through the door, looking panicked. “Alpha! Miss Serena is having nightmares and calling for you! No one can calm her down, and you need to come back!” It was always like this. Serena could summon Killian with the smallest excuse. Since last night, he hadn’t checked on Lily even once. Our daughter sometimes asked me through tears why Daddy didn’t love her. He only does this to protect us, my wolf insisted desperately. If he ignores Serena, the pack will blame us for being jealous. He’s thinking of our reputation. Serena saved his life once. He’s just repaying the debt. He doesn’t love Serena—why can’t you trust our mate? He’s so alone. No one understands him. We have to understand him. “Shut up,” I muttered under my breath. My wolf whined, confused and hurt by my rejection. So this was it? The only place I’d ever hear about Killian’s love was from my own wolf? He never did anything and never said anything. He just left Lily and me alone in empty rooms while the whole pack whispered that the Luna was worthless. Killian glanced at me for barely a second, then followed the servant out. “Serena needs me. We’ll finish this when I get back, Freya.” My wolf howled in protest as he left. Don’t do this! He’s our mate! He loves us! “If this is love,” I whispered, “then I don’t want it.”

I was Killian’s chosen mate. When Killian and I first mated, we weren’t deeply in love, but we treated each other with respect and courtesy. Everything changed after Serena was revealed not to be Alpha Kane’s blood daughter. Serena became sensitive and fragile. If Killian didn’t stay by her side, she would throw tantrums and make scenes. She often came to the pack house to cause trouble for me. Whenever she made things difficult, Killian would sigh and try to placate me instead. “Serena’s going through a hard time right now. She might be a bit much, but don’t hold it against her.” Serena’s suffering wasn’t my fault, yet Killian expected me to endure it again and again. The pack members learned quickly who held power. Behind my back, they whispered that I was petty and couldn’t handle being Luna, that I couldn’t win Alpha Killian’s favor, and that I was pathetic and worthless. One day, when I wasn’t home, Serena played with Lily and fed her pastries laced with silver dust. By the time I returned, Lily’s skin was covered in burns and blisters, and she’d fallen unconscious. I rushed her to the pack healer in a panic. The healer told me that if I’d been even a few minutes later, Lily would have died. When I got back to the pack house, I found Killian gently comforting a tearful Serena. For the first time, I raised my voice at him. My face was filled with fury. “Lily almost died, Killian. I’m not asking you to punish Serena, but she can never come to our house again. Can’t you at least agree to that?” Killian simply patted Serena’s back and responded coldly. “Lily is fine now. Serena didn’t mean to hurt her. She’s been through so much already, and you need to be more patient with her.” He met my hysteria with complete indifference, as if I were the one being unreasonable. But when I thought about this incident later, my wolf defended Killian relentlessly. He’s afraid that if he treats us too well in front of Serena, she’ll retaliate against us. He looks expressionless, but his heart shattered when he saw us cry. At least we can express our emotions. Our Alpha has to keep everything bottled up inside. He loves us so much. We come from a lower pack, so he can’t show favoritism or we’ll become a target for everyone. Why can’t we be more understanding? Our mate is always protecting us silently, and we’ve never done a single thing for him. I’d suffered so much because of Killian’s so-called love, and now my own wolf was blaming me for it. That night, after I’d finished taking care of Lily, I went to Killian’s study to talk to him. I still loved him then. I was foolish enough to think that if I just tried harder, maybe Killian would finally see me. But when I stood outside the study, I saw through a crack in the door that Serena was crying and hugging Killian from behind. “We’re not blood siblings, so why can’t I love you? Please, just love me back a little. I don’t care if we have to hide it forever. I’m willing to do anything.” I bit my lip and silently begged Killian to push her away and scold her. But Killian only sighed and let her hold him. “You’re still so young. Why are you thinking about these things?” I stood outside the door, barely able to keep myself upright. Serena looked at me through the gap and smirked mockingly. My wolf was silent for once, unable to defend what we’d both just witnessed.

“Mama, did Daddy come back yet?” When Lily woke up, it was already evening. I saw the hope in her eyes and couldn’t bear to tell her the truth. Killian was still at Serena’s residence, taking care of her. “It’s okay, Mama. If Daddy doesn’t come back, we can celebrate my birthday together, just the two of us.” Today was Lily’s birthday. Every year on this day, I would give Lily a gift and tell her it was from her father. That was why Lily still believed that Killian cared about her. I made Lily a bowl of noodles. Just as we sat down to eat, Killian walked in and rubbed his temples wearily. “Serena’s condition is getting worse. She needs to stay here at the pack house for a while. Try to be more considerate and don’t provoke her.” Lily didn’t understand what he was saying. She thought Killian had come back to celebrate her birthday, so she excitedly ran up and hugged him. “Daddy, you came back! I knew you wouldn’t forget my birthday!” Killian froze. His face turned pale, and for once he didn’t look as cold and distant as usual. Our mate was so busy dealing with Serena’s problems that he forgot our pup’s birthday. You can’t really blame him for that, my wolf offered weakly. Couldn’t we have reminded him? Why does our Alpha always have to be the one maintaining this relationship? He’s been speaking well of us to Serena this whole time so she won’t target us. He’s already decided that after this is over, he’ll focus on building a good life with us. It was ridiculous. No matter what Killian did, my wolf always made excuses for him. “Lily, I’m sorry. I was too busy today and forgot about your birthday.” Lily lowered her head in disappointment but still tried to comfort him. “It’s okay, Daddy. You always remember my birthday every other year. I’m already really happy about that.” Killian looked at me in surprise, and his expression softened slightly. Our mate is so touched! We gave birthday gifts on his behalf! my wolf said proudly. This is the last time he’ll help Serena. After this, he’ll live happily with us. Killian’s gaze became gentler, and his tone turned warmer. “Serena is only staying here temporarily. She won’t disturb us. I know I’ve neglected you before, but from now on, things will be different. Let’s not talk about rejection anymore.” This world seemed to revolve entirely around Killian’s desires. As long as he was happy, everything was supposedly fine. No one cared what I actually wanted. My wolf kept insisting that Killian loved me so much, but I only felt cold emptiness. Was this really love? The next day, Serena moved into the pack house with great fanfare. She stood in front of my courtyard and clung to Killian’s arm playfully. “Freya, your courtyard is so beautiful. It’s such a shame I can’t live here.” My heart sank. Then I heard Killian say to me. “Freya, I need you to move to the North Wing for now. It’s just temporary.” Don’t misunderstand! Our mate feels even worse about this than we do! my wolf protested. It’s fine. Just endure a little longer, and everything will be sweet soon. This courtyard was something I’d decorated by hand when I first came to the pack house. The wisteria tree in the yard was one Killian had planted for me. He’d even said that as long as the tree stood, our bond would remain strong. Now Serena covered her nose and looked at the tree with disgust. “The flowers are too fragrant. I can’t stand the smell. Can you cut them down for me?” I looked up at them in disbelief. Killian glanced at me with a complicated expression, then ordered the servants to do it. Lily had once had an allergic reaction because of Serena, and Killian had brushed it off with barely a word. But now he was willing to cut down the tree he’d planted himself just to please Serena. I felt my heart growing colder and colder. I clutched the rejection papers tightly in my hand and turned to leave. We’re misunderstanding again. How frustrating. Can’t we try to see things from our mate’s perspective? my wolf pleaded. “No,” I said firmly. “I’m done seeing things from his perspective.”

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The fluorescent lights of City Hall’s Marriage Bureau hummed overhead like a swarm of accusatory wasps. I sat alone on the hard plastic chair, my hands clenched so tight my knuckles had gone white. Seven times. This was the seventh goddamn time. My phone buzzed against my thigh. I didn’t need to look at the screen to know it was Seraphina. Again. The same excuses wrapped in different words, the same poison dripping with honey. The clerk-a middle-aged woman with kind eyes that had seen too many almost-marriages-leaned over her desk. “Mr. Grant? Are we… still proceeding today?” My throat constricted. The words tasted like ash. “Yeah. We’re proceeding.” Just not with who you think. I pulled up my contacts, my thumb hovering over a name I’d been avoiding for weeks. Zara Brooks. My Dude’s sister. The woman who’d proposed the most insane solution to my problems three months ago: a fake marriage. “Come on, Ethan,” she’d said, leather jacket slung over one shoulder, that infuriating smirk playing at her lips. “You need to get your family off your back. I need to shut my parents up about settling down. It’s a win-win.” I’d laughed it off then. Told her I was committed to Seraphina. That we’d work it out. Seven broken promises later, here I was. The call connected on the second ring. “Grant.” Zara’s voice was husky, like she’d just woken up. Or maybe she was mid-cigarette on that death trap motorcycle of hers. “Finally ready to stop being pathetic?” I closed my eyes. “City Hall. Marriage Bureau. How fast can you get here?” A pause. Then I heard the roar of an engine. “Already on my way.”

I’d barely hung up when my phone lit up again. This time, I looked. Seraphina: Babe, I’m SO sorry! Liam twisted his ankle playing basketball. He needs me right now. Can we reschedule? The office will still be there tomorrow! ?? The laugh that escaped my throat was bitter enough to curdle milk. The clerk glanced up, concerned. “You okay, honey?” I wasn’t. I hadn’t been okay for six months. Not since Liam Sterling-Seraphina’s “best friend,” her childhood everything, her eternal excuse-had moved back to town. Before Liam, Seraphina used to look at me like I hung the moon. She’d skip work to bring me lunch when I was drowning in blueprints. She’d memorize my coffee order, my favorite songs, the exact way I liked to be held when the panic attacks came. My fingers moved on autopilot, pulling up Liam’s number-because of course I had it, because Seraphina had insisted we all be “one big happy family.” He answered on the first ring. Seraphina’s voice in the background, fussing over him. “Hey, Ethan.” Liam’s tone was syrupy sweet. “Sorry about today, man. You know how it is. I really needed-” “Tell Seraphina,” I cut him off, my voice dead calm, “that I’m done. Tell her she can spend every single day for the rest of her life taking care of you. Because I’m officially out.” I hung up before he could respond. The roar of a motorcycle shattered the sterile quiet of City Hall’s lobby. Through the glass doors, I watched Zara Brooks dismount her Ducati like she was stepping off a battlefield-all controlled violence and careless grace. She pulled off her helmet, and her dark hair tumbled out in waves that caught the afternoon light. Every head in the waiting area turned. Zara had that effect on people. She pushed through the doors, her leather jacket creaking, her combat boots echoing against the linoleum. When she reached me, she didn’t sit down. Just cocked her hip against the chair beside me, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “So?” Her voice was low, challenging. “You finally ready to stop letting that blonde leech drain you dry?” I met her eyes-ice blue and unflinching. “I need this. My grandfather…” My voice cracked. Zara’s expression softened, just barely. “I know,” she said quietly. “Leo told me. About the cancer.” Right. Of course Leo had told his sister. My best friend since high school, the guy who’d held me together through my parents’ divorce, through every failed architecture pitch, through Grandpa’s diagnosis. The same guy who’d suggested this crazy scheme in the first place. “Your grandpa wants to see you married before…” Zara didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. “And my parents are threatening to set me up with some trust fund douchebag if I don’t ‘settle down soon.’” She made air quotes with her fingers. “We help each other. Simple transaction.” “Nothing about this is simple.” “Then make it simple.” She held out her hand. “You coming or not, Grant?” I looked at her hand-calloused from working on her bikes, strong, steady. Nothing like Seraphina’s delicate fingers that had pushed me away seven times. I took it.

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After two months away on business, I returned to find my office transformed into a playground for my assistant’s son. Every important document had been turned into drawing paper—the walls, the desk, nothing was spared. I went to confront my wife, but she was the one who got angry. “You’re a grown man picking a fight with a child? Can you be any more petty?” “Do you have any idea how hard it is for Ryan, working while raising a kid as a single father?” I tried to explain, but she cut me off right there, stripped me of my position, and gave my office to Ryan. That evening, Ryan posted on Instagram—a photo of Victoria’s back as she sat at a parent-teacher conference. “Finally found Tyler the mom he deserves. ❤️” I smiled and left a comment. “You three make the perfect family. That’s what matters most.” The next day, Victoria had Ryan take over my key clients. I announced my divorce on the spot. Walking out, I sent a text to my father: “Pull all Westfall investments from VictoriaTech.” I turned off my phone and collapsed on the couch, lighting a cigarette. Five years of marriage. Five years of my parents hoping for grandchildren. But I knew Victoria didn’t like kids—she hated them, actually. I’d fought with my parents countless times because of it. After enough arguments, they’d given up and accepted that the Hayes bloodline would end with me. But today shattered everything I thought I knew. My phone rang. It was Victoria. Was she calling to apologize? Part of me wondered if my comment had been too harsh. But the moment I answered, her voice came through dripping with fury. “Ethan Hayes, has your brain been kicked by a donkey or eaten by a dog? So what if I went to Tyler’s parent-teacher conference?” “Delete that comment and apologize to Ryan right now, or you’ll regret it!” She slammed the phone down before I could respond. My hand froze around the phone. I hadn’t expected an apology—but I definitely hadn’t expected her to call and tear into me. She was playing mother to another man’s child. What right did she have to yell at me? A sharp pain lanced through my stomach. Years of business dinners and drinking had given me chronic gastric bleeding. I checked the time—today was my hospital follow-up appointment. Victoria had promised to come with me. But now… she was probably still busy being a mother to her perfect new son. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead. The pain was making my vision darken. My phone suddenly vibrated non-stop. Ryan had posted in the company group chat. “@Ethan Hayes, I feel terrible about the misunderstanding today. Tyler’s young and didn’t know better—he probably made a mess in your office playing around. I know those files were important. You have every right to be upset. It’s my fault for being a single dad, trying to juggle work and childcare—I just couldn’t keep an eye on him properly. That Instagram post didn’t mean anything bad. I was just thanking Victoria for taking care of Tyler. I used the wrong words and caused this misunderstanding. If you’re still angry, take it out on me. Don’t let this damage your relationship with Victoria.” What a textbook guilt-trip performance. The pain in my stomach made it hard to hold my phone. Before I could respond, Victoria replied almost instantly. “Ryan, you don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who said Tyler could stay in Ethan’s office. Those files are important, but are they more important than a child’s happiness and a single father’s struggles? Drop the petty attitude. This office situation is over. Anyone who brings it up again is crossing me.” With the boss taking that stance, all the yes-men employees jumped in to condemn my pettiness and defend Ryan. Everyone knew Ryan was Victoria’s golden boy now. Who cared about a CEO’s husband in name only? I didn’t bother watching the show unfold. I exited the chat, grabbed my car keys, and headed to the hospital. The stabbing pain eased somewhat during the drive. One of the company employees called me. I frowned but answered anyway. “Ethan Hayes, Ryan has a client dinner tonight but something came up. Victoria says you need to go immediately.” A junior employee calling me by my full name, dropping even the courtesy of “Mr. Hayes.” I laughed bitterly. The lapdog barks when the master points. “I’m not available.” My voice was flat, emotionless. The caller clearly hadn’t expected a refusal. “Victoria said if you don’t go, don’t bother coming back.” “Oh?” I let out a soft acknowledgment. “That’s what Victoria said?” “Yes!” The employee thought they had me scared. “Victoria herself said it! If you don’t go, you’re fired! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get over there right—” “Perfect.” I cut them off. “Tell Victoria for me…” I paused. “I quit.” I hung up without hesitation. Instant silence. As I stumbled along the wall toward the registration desk, clutching my stomach— A commotion erupted in the hospital lobby. “You quack! What kind of doctor are you? My son’s head is killing him and you examine him for half an hour just to say nothing’s wrong?” It was Victoria.

She was glaring at a middle-aged doctor in glasses who looked exhausted. I’d never seen her this unhinged before. My feet stopped dead, like they’d been nailed to the floor. “Ma’am, please calm down!” The doctor’s voice carried helpless frustration. “We’ve examined your son. His temperature is normal at 98.6°F. Chest and lung sounds are clear. His mental state seems fine. He says his head hurts, but it might be from getting excited earlier or playing too hard. We genuinely haven’t found anything physically wrong. You can’t accuse me of incompetence just because a child is crying—” “Bullshit!” Victoria cut him off viciously. “What do you know? You’re a useless quack! If you delay treating my son, can you handle the consequences? Get me your supervisor. I’m filing a complaint!” “Mommy…” Tyler lifted his head from her arms, his face flushed and healthy-looking—nothing like a sick child. Victoria immediately looked down, her fury melting into tenderness and concern. “Tyler, sweetheart, don’t be scared. Mommy’s here. Mommy will find you a good doctor.” I leaned against the wall, watching this scene, feeling the pain shift from my stomach to my heart. Five years of marriage. Countless careful hints and hopes from my parents, all ending in resigned sighs. Because Victoria didn’t like children. She hated them. To honor that wish, I’d defied my parents again and again, shouldering all the family pressure. I thought that was respect. That was love. But what the hell was this? Here she was with my assistant’s son—a child with no blood relation to her—so anxious she’d lost all composure, screaming at a doctor over a minor complaint. She turned with the child in her arms and spotted me. Her brows immediately knitted together. “Ethan? Are you following me?” I ignored her and kept moving toward my scheduled appointment. “Stop!” She caught up, her tone like she was scolding an employee. “Why didn’t you go to the Anderson dinner? Kevin said you hung up on him? Are you trying to sabotage us?!” I didn’t turn around, my voice ice-cold. “I have a doctor’s appointment. For my stomach.” Silence behind me for a beat. She seemed to remember. “Your stomach? You… today was your follow-up…” Her tone softened slightly. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? Can’t you just tough out the old problem? The Anderson deal is crucial! Ryan can’t make it—you’re the only one who can step in!” Didn’t say something? I’d told her weeks ago. “Can’t you just go to the dinner first and… I’ll come with you tomorrow instead?” The pain had my vision going black. I grabbed the handrail to stay upright. Seeing my condition, she conceded reluctantly. “Fine. Which doctor are you seeing? I’ll come with you to speed things up, then we’ll head straight to the hotel…” Even now—even like this—she still wanted me to go drink for business. Victoria. Do you even have a heart? She took a few steps toward me, Tyler in her arms. “Wahhh!” Tyler suddenly burst into tears, kicking his legs violently. “No! I want to go home! I want Daddy! Mommy, find Daddy!” His crying instantly consumed all of Victoria’s attention. “Tyler, sweetheart, don’t cry!” She stopped immediately, patting him anxiously. “Where does it hurt? Mommy will take you home right now. We’ll find Daddy, okay?” She didn’t spare me another glance. Carrying the crying child, she turned and rushed toward the exit. “Yes, we’ll find Daddy. We’re leaving now! Good boy, Tyler. Mommy will get you something yummy…” She moved fast, her figure disappearing through the door, the crying fading. I caught Tyler making a face at me over her shoulder. The hallway was empty except for me. The stomach pain exploded. Something sweet and metallic rose in my throat. I swallowed it down hard, cold sweat soaking through my shirt. The door opened. The doctor emerged with my results, his face dark as thunder. He slapped the report on the desk, his hand actually trembling. “Look at this yourself. Your ulcer is this severe—you’re almost perforated. And these bleeding spots—if you keep ignoring this, it’ll turn cancerous! How old are you? Do you understand?!” The doctor’s voice rose with anger. “How did you destroy your stomach like this? Do you have a death wish? Drinking like water, aren’t you? Your stomach is worse than an eighty-year-old’s!” I opened my mouth to explain—the business dinners, the sacrifices for her company, for her… But my throat felt blocked. I couldn’t get a single word out. A stranger cared more about me than my own wife did. Seeing me in too much pain to speak, the doctor was both furious and anxious. “Immediate hospitalization. One more incident like this and even God can’t save you. Sign here.” “Doctor… can I delay admission a few days?” I forced the words out through the pain. “I need to… handle my resignation paperwork.” The old doctor’s eyes widened. “You’re in this condition and you’re still thinking about work? What job pays enough to be worth your life? You—” He looked at my pale face and the cold sweat on my forehead. His words caught in his throat, and he let out a heavy sigh. “Delaying a few days… should be manageable. But absolutely no more alcohol.” “Thank you…” My voice came out hoarse. The next day, my stomach still burned like fire, but it was better than yesterday. I forced myself to go to the company. The moment I reached what used to be my VP office, my feet stopped cold.

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