Author: Momo Chan

It took me a month of marriage to realize that every doorknob in our house was two inches lower than normal. I used to think it was just a minor renovation mistake. Until that rainy day, when I saw my husband, Ethan Vance, holding an umbrella, tilting it almost entirely over a young girl in his arms. She was the new intern at his company, so petite that her head barely reached his chest. In that single second, everything clicked. The doorknobs were two inches too low because the entire house was custom-designed for her height. I looked down at my phone. The screen was still on the text message I had sent him half an hour ago, my fingers trembling as I typed it. “My back injury is acting up again, and the rain is too heavy to catch a cab. Can you drive me home today?” His office was less than fifteen feet from my desk. Yet, he never let me ride in his car. He said we had to keep our professional and personal lives separate. He said he didn’t want colleagues gossiping. He said adults need to be independent. It turned out that all his boundaries and rules were meant for me alone. I stared at the message. Still no reply. I let out a bitter, silent laugh. If that was the case, I was done holding onto this pathetic excuse for a marriage.

“So, Vivian, you’re saying you’re willing to join the exclusive design project in Paris? That’s amazing! You’re exactly the talent we need.” The voice on the other end of the line was ecstatic. “Yes,” I whispered, keeping my voice low. Once the registration was confirmed, I hung up. The bus stop overhang barely kept the heavy rain off me. The wind swept the rain sideways, quickly soaking my phone screen. Even though it was the middle of summer, I felt chilled to the bone. In the distance, Ethan’s black Cayenne started up. As it passed the bus stop, the car slowed down for a brief second. I thought he saw me. I instinctively took a step forward. But the next second, the car roared past, speeding up. A wave of muddy water splashed all over me. I laughed at myself. For a split second, I actually had that ridiculous hope. The bus took almost two hours to arrive. By the time I limped inside my house, clutching my aching lower back, the sky was pitch black. Soaking wet and exhausted, I tossed my bag onto the entryway table, wanting nothing more than to collapse on the couch. But Ethan walked out of the bedroom. Seeing the mud splatters on my white dress, he immediately pinched his nose in disgust. “The rain is pouring. Couldn’t you have come home earlier? Do you have to make yourself look so filthy?” His tone was full of irritation. He didn’t even notice that I was clutching my back, barely able to stand up straight. A lump formed in my throat. But I didn’t have the energy to argue. Ethan paused, looking at my pale face. He reached over to the kitchen island and slid a cup of hot cocoa toward me. “I picked it up on the way. It should still be warm.” Feeling the warmth radiating from the cup, a tiny, foolish spark of hope flickered in my chest. Ethan had never bought me anything before. I carried the cup over to the couch, sat down, and opened Instagram. Hailey Ward’s latest post instantly flashed at the top of my feed. “Rainy days and hot cocoa go hand in hand! The boss messed up the first cup, but the second one is absolutely perfect!️” The photo showed her sitting in the passenger seat of Ethan’s car, holding a cup of hot cocoa with a bright smile. Our colleagues had already liked the post in silence, leaving no comments. My heart sank into a dark, cold abyss. Hailey was the new intern. The moment she joined the company, she added everyone on Snapchat and Ins. But when she added me, there was a knowing, mocking smirk on her face. Only today did I finally understand what that smirk meant. Refusing to give up entirely, I took a sip of the hot cocoa in my hand. It was burnt, bitter, and choked my throat. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t swallow it. The bitterness spread from my tongue to my heart. He couldn’t even bring me a decent cup. The one he gave me was just a ruined reject. I stood up and tossed the cup straight into the trash can. Ethan’s face instantly darkened. “It was perfectly fine. Why are you throwing a tantrum and wasting it?” I didn’t say a word. I just unlocked my phone and held it up to his face. Looking at Hailey’s post, Ethan’s expression stiffened for a fraction of a second. But a moment later, he spoke with even more arrogance. “It’s just an Ins post. Do you have to be so malicious and overthink everything?” “Have you ever let me ride in your car once since we got married?” His shout unleashed all the bottled-up pain inside me. My voice trembled. Ethan waved his hand, dismissing my tears. “She’s not like you, Vivian. You’re tough. She’s fragile and can’t handle the rain.” “And I told you before she joined the firm. Her father is an old friend of my dad’s. I have to look out for her. Do you really need to be this jealous?” I stared at the man in front of me. His sharp jawline, his cold, handsome face. He looked exactly the same as he did when I first fell in love with him at sixteen. In high school, some classmates tried to prank me, forcing me to publicly confess to Ethan, the quiet, brilliant boy everyone admired. Surrounded by mocking laughter, I stood there, so embarrassed I was about to cry. But Ethan had looked up at me from the crowd, nodded, and said, “Sure.” For years, I treasured that memory, quietly loving him from afar. When we met again years later, Ethan said his family was pressuring him to settle down, and he asked me to marry him. Even after signing the papers, I felt like I was living in a beautiful dream. People said he was cold-blooded. I didn’t believe them. I only believed in the boy who had saved me from humiliation all those years ago. But right now, I realized the rumors were true. I closed my eyes, refusing to fight anymore. “Fine. You’re right.” Ethan froze. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He opened his mouth to say something, but I had already turned my back on him.

The next morning, I woke up feeling numb. Ethan was already gone. I laughed quietly. I opened Instagram, and sure enough, Hailey’s story was updated. “Had a sudden blood sugar drop this morning. Luckily, someone was willing to take a detour to drive me to work.” She didn’t name him, but everyone knew. I couldn’t help but remember. Once, after an intimate night, my body was so sore that I playfully begged him for a ride to the office. Ethan had coldly refused, got dressed, and left without looking back. I had comforted myself back then, thinking he was just a private person who treated everyone the same way. Now I realized he was capable of sweetness. I just wasn’t the one who deserved it. I took an Uber to work. As I walked toward the breakroom, whispering voices drifted through the crack of the door. “Did you see the post? I’ve never seen Mr. Vance play favorites like this.” “I know, right? He’s never cared about his wife. I thought he was just cold to everyone.” “How can that be the same? His childhood sweetheart is back. The wife he settled for is obviously nothing to him now.” “I even heard Mr. Vance’s entire house was custom-designed based on Hailey’s height. Doesn’t that mean his wife has been living in another woman’s dream house this whole time?” A wave of quiet giggles followed. I didn’t say anything. I just pushed the door open. The moment they saw me, the girls gasped and scrambled out of the room. I sat at my desk and booted up my computer. My colleague, Jennifer, leaned over from the next cubicle, looking incredibly nervous. “Vivian, Mr. Vance wants to see you in his office. Now.” The office went quiet. I could feel several pairs of eyes burning into my back. I ignored them. When I pushed open the door to Ethan’s office, a brand representative was already sitting on the couch. Hailey stood to the side with her head bowed. Ethan looked at me. “You’re here. Perfect. The design blueprints your team submitted two days ago had a major scale error. The client has already started mass production. I need an explanation for this rookie mistake.” I looked at Hailey. I already knew what had happened. “I’ve been in this industry for ten years, Ethan. I don’t make mistakes like that. Maybe you should ask the person standing next to you.” Ethan’s face darkened. He didn’t hesitate for a second. “Hailey already admitted her mistake to me. But she’s a new hire. A black mark like this will ruin her career.” He paused. “So, for the record, the responsibility for this error falls on you. Also, to cover the client’s losses, your team’s annual bonuses are canceled.” I almost laughed out loud. He called me in just to make me a scapegoat for his little darling. “I refuse,” I said clearly. Ethan brushed past me. “This is not up for discussion.” Watching his retreating back, a suffocating weight pressed down on my chest. My peers who started at this company at the same time as me were already in senior management. Only I was stuck in the same position. The board had suggested promoting me several times, but Ethan had vetoed it every single time. I had tried to be understanding. I thought he was just trying to avoid accusations of nepotism. But my silence only made everyone else think I was incompetent. Hailey walked up to me, a smug grin plastered on her face. “Vivian, to be honest, I changed those blueprint specs on purpose.” “Ethan and I grew up together. You’ve only been with him for a few months. Did you really think you mattered to him?” Anger flared in my chest. Alice Thompson, the senior designer in my team, had a son who was currently in the ICU. I had pulled countless all-nighters with her on this project just so she could get the project bonus to pay for his medical bills. If this project had gone smoothly, her bonus would have been guaranteed. Looking at Hailey’s smug face, I grabbed a cup of water from the desk and threw it right in her face. Her makeup ruined instantly. She stood there, drenched and gasping in utter shock. Ethan turned around. Seeing Hailey, he rushed over, his face filled with genuine panic. He turned to me, his voice freezing cold: “Apologize!” The sight of him fiercely shielding her pierced my heart like a dagger. Hailey squeezed out a few tears and grabbed Ethan’s sleeve. “Ethan, I don’t want an apology. I want to throw it back!”

She looked at my light-colored chiffon blouse with a malicious smirk. I had left the house in a rush today and hadn’t brought a jacket. The fabric of my shirt was thin. Once wet, it would cling to my skin, making it completely translucent. Ethan frowned. He hesitated for a second, opening his mouth to speak. But Hailey grabbed his arm, her eyes red. “I was so scared, Ethan. I just want things to be fair.” Ethan looked at her wet hair, then turned his cold eyes back to me. “Fine.” Even though I expected it, my heart still felt like it was being ripped apart. Outside the glass wall, a crowd of colleagues had gathered to watch the drama. Ethan knew exactly what kind of humiliation I would face. Yet, he chose to let her do it. Before I could react, Hailey grabbed a cup of water and splashed it all over me. The freezing water soaked through my thin blouse, making me shiver violently. The crowd outside gasped. “This is what happens to anyone who stirs up trouble in this office,” Ethan announced, looking at my drenched body without a shred of pity. The onlookers quickly dispersed, whispering. “She’s so embarrassing. She’s been the CEO’s wife for months, but she still acts like a street brawler.” “She has no curves at all. So plain. No wonder Ethan prefers Hailey.” “She brought this on herself. Wearing something so thin and still picking a fight? She probably wanted the attention.” Their hushed mockery drifted into my ears. I clenched my fists. Ethan turned to Hailey, his voice softening. “Go home and rest. You’ll catch a cold with wet hair. I’ll handle the rest.” The moment Hailey left, the warmth on Ethan’s face vanished. Only cold indifference remained. “You will oversee the rest of this project. I want to see a recovery plan on my desk tonight.” The wet fabric clung to my skin, freezing me. But it was nothing compared to the ice in my heart. When I dragged myself back to my cubicle, Alice immediately draped her cardigan over my shoulders. Looking at her tired face, which was trying so hard to offer me comfort, my nose stung with tears. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that her bonus was gone. But the next second, Ethan walked over to our department. “Because of Vivian’s personal negligence, the design team’s annual bonuses are officially canceled.” The entire floor fell into a dead silence. Then, resentment flared. Angry, hateful glares pierced through me like needles. Before I could explain, a loud thud sounded beside me. “Alice!” Tears poured down my face as I scrambled to her side. “Call 911! Please, call an ambulance!” Inside the ambulance, I held Alice’s trembling hand. My mother died when I was young. Having no one to protect me, I had learned to swallow my tears. Alice was the only one who had seen through my tough exterior all these years. Whenever I was excluded, she would pat my back and sigh, telling me I didn’t have to carry the world on my shoulders. We spent every Thanksgiving and Christmas together. Over the years, she had become more than family to me. Sitting outside the ER, I clasped my hands, praying for her survival. My lower back throbbed with a sharp, agonizing pain. My old injury was flaring up again. Noticing my pale face, Ethan, who had followed us to the hospital, took off his jacket and put it over my shoulders. “Family of Alice Thompson?” a nurse called out from the desk. “The patient is unstable. We need someone to pay the emergency deposit immediately.” Ethan stood up, but before he could move, his phone rang loudly. It was Hailey’s ringtone. “Okay, don’t panic. I’m coming right now,” Ethan said into the phone. He hung up and rushed toward the exit. Halfway there, he suddenly remembered me. “Go pay the deposit first. I’ll transfer the money to you.” I froze, watching his retreating back. The very last spark of warmth in my heart died.

I dragged my painful body to the billing counter and collapsed against it. The pain in my back was so sharp it made my head spin. In a daze, I felt like I was back on that snowy night years ago. To win over a major client for Ethan’s startup, we had driven over a thousand miles through a blizzard. When we arrived, the client was about to leave. I had run across the icy parking lot, slipped, and severely injured my spine. But because of that fall, the client saw our dedication. Ethan’s company got the deal that put them on the map. But I was left with a permanent spinal injury. That was the first time I had ever seen the cold, aloof Ethan look so panicked and heartbroken. “Why are you so foolish?” he had cried, holding me gently in his arms, using his warm palms to soothe my lower back. “I promise you, Vivian, whenever your back hurts, I’ll be right by your side. I won’t go anywhere.” But today, he didn’t even look back. He didn’t see that I was on the verge of collapsing. Before I could catch my breath, the nurse rushed over with a clipboard. “Are you the one paying? Alice’s son, Leo, is experiencing a sudden drop in oxygen. He needs a specialized emergency medication immediately! Go pay now!” My head buzzed. I stumbled to the payment window and handed over my card. “Declined,” the clerk said. My heart sank. I quickly checked my bank app. The money Ethan promised to transfer wasn’t there. I tried to use my personal savings account, but the balance read: $0.00. Then, I remembered. A month ago, Ethan said the company was experiencing a temporary cash flow issue, and he had transferred all my savings to his corporate account. Down the hallway, the nurse shouted anxiously. “Hurry! We’re running out of time!” Without hesitating, I dialed Ethan’s number with shaking fingers. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. Ethan’s voice was filled with annoyance. “What is it now?” I bit my lip so hard it bled, trying to hold back my sobs. “Ethan, the money you transferred isn’t enough. Can you send more? Right now! My savings are gone because of what I lent you last month… please…” The background of the call was quiet, except for Hailey’s soft whimpering. After a few seconds, Ethan’s irritated voice came through. “Vivian, when did you learn to lie like this? When did I ever take your savings?” He paused, sighing. “Things are really complicated here. I’ll transfer some money to you later. Stop calling me.” “No, Ethan, it’s an emergency…” Before I could finish, the line went dead. I redialed immediately, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Only a busy tone. He had blocked my number. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.” The doors of the ER opened, and the doctor looked at me with a heavy sigh. “Alice Thompson suffered acute heart failure due to extreme stress. We couldn’t save her.” “As for her son, Leo… we could have stabilized him, but we missed the window for the emergency medication.” The nurse looked at me with pity. “Are you alright? Your back looks hurt. Let me help you to a chair.” The pain was so intense I couldn’t even make a sound. My phone vibrated in my hand. It was an email from the Paris design project coordinator. “Ms. Moore, the emergency medical visa you requested for your dependents has been approved. You are authorized to bring one adult and one child with you to France. You can depart immediately.” If we could have just made it through tonight… I could have taken Alice and Leo to France with me. Leo could have received better treatment there. Another message popped up. “Ms. Moore, when do you plan to depart? We need to finalize the arrangements.” My tears had run completely dry. I typed back a single word. “Now.”

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After finishing the project meeting with our clients, I went to the hotel to meet my fiancé, Asher. But I ended up at the wrong room. I called him, my heart pounding. He just laughed it off on the other end. “Fiona got the room number mixed up. Just go back to your own room.” Fiona again. Asher’s stepsister, who was only two years younger than him. I fell silent for a long time. Then, I turned around and looked at the handsome man lying on the bed, our business partner, Julian Sinclair. “I have an engagement party in two months, but I want to change the groom. Interested?” Julian smirked, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me close. “Let me see how sincere you are tonight first.” Later, my childhood sweetheart practically lost his mind, banging on my door. “Didn’t I tell you to get out of his room that night? You stayed?” “Yes. I stayed.” When I realized I had walked into the wrong room, Julian Sinclair was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. A lazy, dangerous look flickered across his sharp face. “Are you trying to seduce me for a better discount, Miss Vance?” “No. Absolutely not.” Flustered, I rushed to the door to leave. With a racing heart, I immediately called Asher. “Asher, why did I just walk into Julian Sinclair’s room? Which room is yours?” Before he could speak, his stepsister, Fiona, piped up in the background. “Oh, Chloe! I’m so sorry, I totally mixed up the room numbers.” Asher added casually, “Alright, Fiona didn’t do it on purpose. Just get out of his room and go back.” A sharp pain pierced my chest. It was the middle of the night, and he was so indifferent to me being in another man’s room. Sensing my silence, he tried to coax me. “I’ll take you shopping tomorrow to make it up to you. Don’t make a scene, it’s late. Fiona needs to sleep.” “I think she did it on purpose!” I snapped. His voice went cold. “Enough, Chloe. Fiona is my sister. I never realized you were so petty and unreasonable.” I hung up without another word. Then, I turned back and knocked on Julian’s door again. The door slid open. Julian looked at me with amusement. He was still half-naked, and the towel around his waist had loosened even more. Fueled by anger and betrayal, I grabbed his hand. “Mr. Sinclair, can I stay in your room tonight?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning in close. His nose brushed against my cheek, inhaling my scent. It was too close. I instinctively tried to shrink back, but his arm wrapped lazily around my waist, pulling me tight against his chest. “I heard you’re getting engaged in two months.” At the mention of the engagement, my expression darkened. Yes. Asher and I were supposed to get engaged in two months. Yet, he had no problem letting his fiancée stay in another man’s room in the dead of night. Our twenty years of history felt like a absolute joke. Taking a deep breath, I looked straight into Julian’s deep eyes. “At the engagement party in two months, I want a different groom. Are you interested, Mr. Sinclair?” He let out a low chuckle, his hand reaching up to cradle the back of my neck. “Chloe, are you sure about this?” His long fingers gently stroked my skin, sending a wave of heat down my spine. I gritted my teeth. “Yes. I’m sure.” The next day, after I returned from the hotel, Fiona showed up at my place. She blinked her innocent, doe-like eyes, twirling around to show off her new dress. “Chloe, Asher said you have the best taste in fashion. Do you think this dress looks good on me?”

It was a baby pink princess gown that made her look youthful and delicate. I ignored her, but she stepped closer anyway. “Actually, Asher even bought the matching lingerie for me. But it’s a bit too private to show you. What a pity.” Summer clothes are thin. What she meant was obvious. I thought I had completely detached myself after making my decision last night, but her words still stung. My mother died when I was very young. My father was always busy running the company, and besides giving me money, he knew nothing about raising a daughter. He certainly knew nothing about the changes a girl goes through during puberty. The first time I was mocked at school because I wasn’t wearing a proper bra, it was Asher who fought the bullies for me. At eleven, he wasn’t even as tall as me, but he fought like a wild dog. With a bloody nose, he had awkwardly shoved a soft sports bra and a hoodie from his backpack into my hands. “I… I’ve never bought this stuff before. Just put it on!” He sounded so angry, but his bright red ears gave away his embarrassment. That was the most sensitive time of my teenage years. Because he bought me that bra, Asher was teased by the other boys in our circle for a long time. Even now, people joked that he was born to be my husband. He used to say that he would only do such intimate things for his future wife. So, what about now? Did Fiona, his stepsister, also fall into the category of “future wife”? “If you only came here to tell me this, you can get the hell out.” “Fiona, if she doesn’t want to go, just leave her. Come here.” It was Asher. The moment he walked in, Fiona’s face instantly transformed into a picture of pitiful grievance. “Chloe, it’s my 22nd birthday party. Are you really not coming? If I did something to upset you, I can apologize.” She talked about apologizing, but her eyes welled up with tears first. Asher’s heart melted. He stepped forward, shielding her behind his back. “Chloe, when are you going to stop throwing this tantrum? Fiona is my sister. Once we’re married, she’ll be your sister too! What you just said was way too harsh. Apologize to Fiona!” His face was cold. This face, which I had looked at for over twenty years, suddenly felt so foreign. When did he start protecting Fiona like this? I remember when Fiona and her mother first moved into the Miller estate, Asher hated her. He used to call her fake and dramatic. But gradually, under her sweet, manipulative voice, he began taking her side over and over again. Before Fiona arrived, Asher and I practically lived together. Both of our mothers passed away early, and our family villas were right next to each other. During my first period, on every single one of my birthdays, on the anniversary of my mother’s death… Everyone knew that wherever Chloe Vance was, Asher Miller would be right there. Until Fiona showed up. Whenever he was with me, his phone would ring with Fiona’s calls. She was scared of needles, so he missed my birthday to hold her hand at the hospital. She caught a cold, so he canceled our date and spent a whole month learning how to cook nutritious meals for her. Every time I questioned him or got jealous, I was defeated by a single line: “She’s just my sister.” But did she really just want to be his sister? I looked past his shoulder and locked eyes with Fiona. The triumph in her eyes was unmistakable. In this three-way dynamic, she had grown accustomed to his favoritism and the sense of superiority it gave her. Suddenly, I felt utterly exhausted. “I’m not apologizing.” “Chloe, what is wrong with you!” He frowned, his voice laced with warning. “Fine. Don’t regret this!” Regret? I was about to marry someone else. I really didn’t have time for regret.

I didn’t go to Fiona’s birthday party, but Asher, of course, did. It was a grand event. A mutual friend FaceTimed me from the venue. “Chloe, why aren’t you here today? Fiona is totally stealing the spotlight. I just heard some people joking about how good she and Asher look together.” “But seriously, Asher is crossing the line. She’s his stepsister, they have no blood relation. They should keep some distance. They’re literally wearing matching outfits! If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were the ones getting engaged!” A royal blue suit and a light blue princess gown. They did look perfect together. I stared numbly at the screen. Someone who had drank too much joked that today looked like their engagement party. Asher didn’t get angry. Fiona, appearing slightly tipsy, snuggled into his chest, and he didn’t pull away. “Asher, do you know what my birthday wish is today?” she asked, her cheeks flushed, looking adorable. Asher looked down at her with pure indulgence. “What is it?” “If I tell you, will you make it come true?” “Have I ever missed making one of your birthday wishes come true? Tell me, what do you want this time?” “Then… I want you to kiss me. Is that okay?” Fiona didn’t whisper this. Even though my friend wasn’t standing right next to them, the audio on the call was crystal clear. Asher’s face stiffened for a second. In the next moment, he seemed to notice someone was filming him. His eyes locked onto my friend’s phone camera. “Chloe, I know you’re watching. If you call right now and apologize to Fiona, I won’t do it.” My friend looked incredibly awkward and whispered an apology to me. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I didn’t know he’d notice I was FaceTiming you.” “It’s fine. I’m actually busy. I have to go.” “Wait! Chloe, what he just said…” I hung up and looked at the wedding dress in my hands. I didn’t care who he kissed. It had nothing to do with me anymore. Because I wasn’t going to marry him. Right after the FaceTime ended, Asher called me directly. “Chloe, how long are you going to keep acting like a child? What you said the other day was wrong. I only asked you to apologize to Fiona, and you…” “You honestly disgust me, Asher.” “Ha, fine!” With that, he hung up, looked down, and kissed Fiona on the lips. My hands clenched around the delicate fabric of the wedding dress. Suddenly, a warm hand gently pried my fingers open. Julian took my phone, blocked Asher’s number, and deleted him from my contacts list. “Fiancée, do you need me to handle this trash ex of yours?” “No need.” He looked skeptical. “Are you really letting him go just because his stepsister mixed up a room number?” Was it really just because of that? I dazed for a moment. No. It was a buildup of so many things. He had hurt me for Fiona’s sake more times than I could count. Asher and I once had a massive fight. We didn’t speak for over two weeks. Eventually, he stood outside my door all night. The moment I opened the door, he wrapped his arms around me, his voice soft and broken. “Chloe, let’s not fight anymore. I’ve been so miserable these past few weeks.” I had been miserable too. Going from being inseparable to strangers was agonizing. So, when he offered an olive branch, I took it. For the next few days, he treated me like royalty, and it felt like we were back to the beginning. He even planned a surprise adventure trip for me. He took me to a firefly reserve on a secluded island with no cell service. We were completely cut off from the world, blissfully happy. Until the boat ride back, when he got a call from Fiona.

Fiona was crying on the other end, saying she was stranded and couldn’t walk. Asher started sweating with panic, turning to me with an apologetic look. “Chloe, wait for me here. I’ll be back soon.” “No, Asher. I’m scared.” “Be good. I promise I’ll be right back. Something happened to Fiona.” I begged him not to leave me alone on that deserted island. But the rescue boat hadn’t arrived yet, so he actually jumped into the water and swam back to the mainland. He didn’t return that day. I was stranded on that island for two whole days without food. My hypoglycemia kicked in, and combined with a severe panic attack, I collapsed on the beach. I almost died. And Fiona’s “emergency”? She had merely stubbed her toe while shopping. During my days in the hospital, I was initially just hurt and angry, waiting for him to come and comfort me. But I never saw him until the day I was discharged. Later, I found out that Fiona had wanted to go on a trip, so he had flown out of the country with her during my entire hospitalization. I thought this time would be like our past fights, where we wouldn’t speak for weeks. But to my surprise, Asher came to see me very quickly. He was holding a box of desserts from my favorite bakery, sighing with helpless indulgence. “Chloe, you still have such a temper. Who else but me would put up with you? Come on, unblock me on Snapchat.” Oh, so he had finally realized I blocked him. “I didn’t block you.” “It’s your account. Who else could it be? We’re getting engaged soon, you really need to work on your temper if we’re going to spend our lives together.” He sounded so reasonable, as if he were looking out for me. But he forgot that my temper was something he had spoiled into existence. He used to tell me that as long as he was by my side, I could do whatever I wanted. “Did you come here today just to lecture me?” “Sigh, I was wrong about what happened the other night. I was just angry. Look, Chloe, I bought a designer bag. Take it and give it to Fiona. It was her birthday, after all. As her future sister-in-law, you should show some grace.” If Fiona were really his biological sister, this gesture might have been sweet. Too bad she wasn’t. I let out a mocking laugh. “Get on her good side so the three of us can share a bed? Are you planning on having one of us on each arm?” “Chloe! How can you say something so vulgar!” His face instantly darkened. I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “Am I being vulgar, or are your actions just plain disgusting?” “Fiona is afraid of the dark!” “She’s twenty-two! If she’s afraid of the dark, she can leave the lights on, sleep with her mother, or hire 24-hour security! Why does she need to squeeze into the same bed as a man she has no blood relation to?” Just the thought of it made me physically sick. “And you bought her lingerie. If you haven’t looked at her or touched her, how do you know her exact measurements?” “You… you are being absolutely ridiculous! I only see her as a sister!” He slammed the pastry box onto the floor with a loud splat. I bent down, picked up the box, and hurled it right back at his face. “Don’t you dare throw a tantrum in my house! Get the hell out!” “Fine! I’m leaving! Don’t expect me to crawl back to you before the engagement party!” He was threatening me. Because he knew, better than anyone, that I had no other choice but to marry him. Over the past few years, my father’s illegitimate son had become increasingly arrogant. If it weren’t for the alliance with the Miller family, my father probably wouldn’t even leave my mother’s company to me. That company was my mother’s life’s work. I couldn’t let it fall into the hands of a mistress’s child. So Asher knew I had to marry him. Maybe our fight during the day had exhausted me, because that night, I dreamed of the past. When I was nine, my father brought his secret love-child home. How ironic. That boy was only three years younger than me. While I was nearly losing my mind from grief over my mother’s death, my father had already built a second family outside. What did I do back then? I was furious, devastated. I screamed and threw myself at the boy, only for my father to slap me hard, knocking me to the floor. “He is your brother! If you don’t accept him, you don’t eat today!” But I was stubborn. If he said no food, I wouldn’t eat. I locked myself in my dark room, curling up on the bed. It wasn’t until Asher broke my second-floor window and climbed in that he found me unconscious from severe hypoglycemia. My chronic hypoglycemia started from that day. The thin, young boy had cried hysterically as he dragged me out, his tears splashing onto my face as he begged me not to die. I was practically cried back to life by him. From that day on, Asher strictly monitored my meals. For a long time, he would even sneak into my room at night just to shake me awake, terrified that I would slip into a coma again. He was the one who dragged me out of that living hell. He had saved me. So, even when he ignored me for Fiona’s sake time and time again, I always convinced myself: Once we get married, everything will go back to the way it was. But now I realized how wrong I was.

With only one month left until the scheduled engagement, my father unexpectedly returned and called for a joint family dinner. I didn’t want to go. Since my groom was no longer Asher, there was no point in attending. But my father, for some reason, had already arranged everything. Our families still had ongoing business partnerships, and I couldn’t afford to burn all bridges just yet. So, I showed up. Asher had arrived before me. The seat to his left was empty, while Fiona sat on his right. When he saw me walk in, he instinctively reached out to pull the chair next to him. But I ignored his gaze and sat on the opposite side of the table. The atmosphere turned instantly tense. My father, sensing the coldness between us, tried to pull me up from my seat. “Chloe, don’t be silly. You two have known each other forever and are about to get married. What are you being shy for? Go sit next to Asher.” “Chloe, are you refusing to sit here because of me? If so, I… I can leave. I’m not very hungry anyway.” Fiona looked at me timidly, putting on a brave, mature front that made everyone pity her. Asher’s face hardened instantly. “She can sit wherever she wants. This isn’t a dinner for her alone!” “Indeed. I like it right here.” I pulled my chair back and sat down firmly. Asher glared at me throughout the entire meal. The dinner felt completely tasteless. “Chloe, the engagement is next month. Have you picked out your dress?” my father asked. “Yes, I have.” “When did you go see dresses?” Asher frowned. Choosing a wedding dress was a huge deal. In the past, I would have spent weeks dragging him along to look at designs. He had actually already selected several styles, waiting for me to lower my pride so he could take me to try them on one by one. But now, I had already chosen one? And he didn’t even know? “Chloe, your dress needs to match my suit. When did you go behind my back to look at dresses?” “I didn’t go behind your back. And I didn’t go alone.” “Then who did you go with?” My phone buzzed. It was a message from Julian. He had just showered, and his abs were barely concealed beneath a loose towel. I coughed slightly, my face flushing. “Having dinner with the ex-fiancé? Are you going to be hungry when you get back?” I quickly hid my phone under the table, my face burning as I replied. “Stop playing around.” “Me, playing around? At least I’m not the one wasting my time with a loser.” This guy was insufferable. Asher completely lost his patience. He abruptly stood up and walked over to my side. “Who are you texting that’s making you smile like that?”

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When the billionaire CEO brought his pristine ex-girlfriend back home, I was standing there in my apron, holding a spatula, about to ask if he wanted me to whip up some extra sides. But the moment the ex saw me, she pointed a finger and burst into tears. “I knew those trashy romance novels weren’t lying! The moment I moved to Europe, you got yourself a rebound lookalike to keep in your house!” Wait… what? I looked down at my chef’s uniform and then at the spatula in my hand. Nobody gave me the memo that I was supposed to be a placeholder clone! Before I could even process this, the ex-girlfriend, Tiffany, continued her dramatic monologue. “No wonder you barely called me while I was abroad. You already had a new toy to keep your bed warm, completely erasing me from your mind!” “And now that I’m back, you can’t even bear to throw this trash away. Fine! If that’s how it is, I’ll step aside and let you two be happy!” Looking at Tiffany’s tear-streaked, tragic-heroine face, I stood there completely dumbfounded. Seriously, what script was she reading? Wasn’t I hired by the billionaire Carter Harrison for a cool one-million-dollar annual salary just because of my Michelin-star culinary skills, specifically to cure his chronic stomach ulcers? How did I suddenly become the “sexy new rebound”? Even Carter couldn’t help but frown. “Tiffany, what nonsense are you talking about? You’ve only been in Paris for three months, and I literally flew over to see you every single weekend. How is that ignoring you?” “Also, this is Chloe. She’s my private chef. Stop making up weird stories.” “A chef?” Tiffany let a single, perfect tear slide down her cheek. “Since when do private chefs look this young and pretty?” “And I love wearing white silk! She’s wearing white too! If she’s not my replacement, what is she? Carter, babe, stop lying to me!” I looked down at my white chef’s jacket, then at Tiffany’s white designer silk dress. My eyelid twitched. The only thing these two outfits had in common was that they were made of white fabric. I let out a sigh and spoke up. “Miss Tiffany, I am literally just the chef. If you don’t believe me, you can check the stove. I’ve been simmering a organic chicken consommé for the past four hours.” But Tiffany covered her ears and stamped her stilettos. “I’m not listening! I’m not listening! Even if there is soup, you two probably staged it just to gaslight me!” Carter rubbed his temples in exhaustion. “Then tell me, what will it take for you to believe Chloe is just the chef?” “Fire her. Only then will I believe you,” Tiffany said, looking like a detective who had cracked the case. “The novels say the first love and the lookalike can never coexist. Otherwise, she will eventually seduce you and steal my crown! Carter, I can’t lose you. She has to go.” Hearing this, Carter’s frown deepened. He looked at me, hesitating. His stomach issues were only halfway cured, and his gut was currently entirely dependent on my cooking. But if he didn’t send me away, Tiffany was clearly going to make his life a living hell. After a long moment, Carter finally made up his mind. He walked over to me and said in a low voice: “Chloe, I know our contract says you’re a live-in chef. But given the circumstances, I need you to temporarily move into my luxury penthouse downtown.” “I’ll double your Uber allowance for commuting, and I’ll throw in a three-month salary bonus as compensation. How does that sound?” My eyes instantly lit up. His penthouse was only a five-minute drive from this villa. Not only would I get double commuting cash, but I’d also pocket an extra quarter-million dollars for doing absolutely nothing? This was a massive win! I nodded without a second thought. “No problem at all, Mr. Harrison. Do you need me to pack right now?” I immediately pulled out my phone to call a moving company. Carter froze, clearly not expecting me to be so incredibly cooperative. A strange flicker of emotion crossed his eyes. He opened his mouth, but in the end, he just nodded. “Yeah. Go ahead.” The moving truck arrived in record time. As I was directing the guys with my suitcases, Tiffany strutted over in her high heels, looking down her nose at me. “Chloe, so what if you tried to squeeze into his life while I was gone? In the end, you’re still getting kicked out like trash. In Carter’s heart, I am the only one who matters. No matter how hard you try, a fake will always be a fake!” At that exact moment, my phone buzzed. It was a bank notification. A shiny six-figure bonus had just hit my account. Looking at Tiffany—the very angel who had secured me this fat check—she suddenly looked incredibly beautiful to me. I smiled warmly and agreed, “Oh, absolutely! You are the center of Mr. Harrison’s universe. I could never compare to you, ma’am.” Tiffany sniffed arrogantly. “At least you know your place.” She turned and strutted away. Not far off, I heard the head butler, Arthur, asking her which room she wanted to occupy. Without hesitation, she declared: “I want the locked room. The one filled with my photos that Carter stares at every night to ease his broken heart.” Arthur looked utterly confused. “Ma’am… we don’t have a room like that.” Her voice immediately went up an octave. “How is that possible?! In every romance novel, after the first love leaves, the billionaire always locks up a secret room that no one else can enter, dedicated entirely to her memory! Just because you’re a butler doesn’t mean you know everything!” I didn’t hear the rest. I just shook my head, offering a silent three-second prayer for Arthur’s sanity.

After moving into the penthouse, my life became incredibly relaxing. Aside from sneaking back into the villa under Arthur’s coordination—completely avoiding Tiffany’s line of sight—to prep Carter’s three meals a day, my time was entirely my own. My skin was glowing, while Arthur was visibly aging by the day. During one of our secret handoffs, I couldn’t help but ask: “Arthur, is the villa really that busy lately? You look like you haven’t slept in a week.” Arthur let out a heavy sigh. “Don’t get me started. Miss Tiffany is driving me to the brink of insanity.” “On her very first day, she demanded Mr. Harrison fire me. The reason? Because I didn’t tell her she was ‘the first woman the master had ever brought home.’” “The next day, she asked me if Mr. Harrison had smiled even once in the three months she was gone. I made the mistake of showing her an Instagram photo of him smiling at a charity gala last week, and she got so mad she smashed my phone.” It was like Arthur had finally found a therapist. He let out a whole week’s worth of pent-up trauma. Looking at him rant, I felt incredibly relieved. Thank God I packed my bags on day one. If I had stayed in that villa playing out her dramatic soap opera every day, I would have lost ten years of my life. But it turned out I celebrated too early. Peaceful days only lasted a little while before the doorbell of my penthouse started buzzing like a fire alarm. The moment I opened it, Tiffany pushed past me and marched inside. Like a peacock inspecting its territory, she walked around the living room before turning to me with a smug sneer. “No wonder you left so easily. Carter has been hiding you in his secret love nest all along!” My temple throbbed. I just wanted to get rid of her. “Miss Tiffany, I am literally just a hired chef. If you don’t believe me, I can show you my employment contract.” I pulled the document out of my drawer and handed it to her. The moment her eyes scanned the salary figure, her pupils dilated. “One million dollars?!” She snatched the contract and slammed it onto the coffee table, scoffing. “What kind of chef makes a million dollars a year? This is obviously your sugar baby allowance!” I earned every cent of that money with my sweat and tears. Her words were a direct insult to my professional honor. Losing my patience, I pulled out my phone and dialed Carter directly. “Mr. Harrison, could you please put a leash on your ex?!” From the other end of the line came a heavy, exhausted sigh. “Is she there? Put her on.” Tiffany snatched the phone with a smug look, but as she listened, her face turned pale. Finally, she glared at me, muttered a quick “Fine” to Carter, and slammed the phone down. She lifted her chin, trying to regain her regal posture. “You got lucky today! But don’t think I’m letting this go. Carter is just blinded by you right now. Soon, he’ll realize that a counterfeit like you can never replace the real thing!” She slammed the door on her way out. Listening to the echo, I seriously considered asking Carter for some mental distress compensation. To avoid any more drama, I stopped going to the villa altogether for the next few days. I prepped the meals at my penthouse, packed them in premium bento boxes, and had Arthur pick them up for Carter. But when Arthur showed up today, he brought back the lunchboxes along with a gold-embossed invitation to Tiffany’s “Welcome Back Gala.” Looking at the fancy card, my head began to throb again. Just as I was about to refuse, Arthur whispered: “Miss Tiffany forced Mr. Harrison to host this. He said if you attend, he’ll pay you twenty times your usual holiday overtime rate.” Arthur looked at me with an expression that said, You lucky brat. I immediately snatched the card and smiled. “Overtime rate? Please, tell Mr. Harrison that if he needs me, I am always there to support his business!” The gala was held at the Harrison estate. When I arrived, Tiffany was playing the grand piano in the center of the ballroom. The soft spotlight hit her, finally giving her that “pristine first love” aesthetic. As soon as some of the city’s young tech billionaires and real estate moguls saw me walk in, they immediately swarmed me. “Chloe! Are you catering tonight’s gala? If so, my stomach is in for a treat!” “Hey Chloe, are you looking for a new gig? My mom is literally begging to hire you. Name your price.” “…” The piano music stopped abruptly. Everyone instinctively looked over at Tiffany. She picked up the microphone, her eyes practically shooting fire at the crowd surrounding me. “Let me introduce myself. I am Tiffany, Carter’s one true love. The girl you are crowding around is just a cheap placeholder he kept while I was away.” “If you want to network, make sure you’re talking to the right person. Don’t waste your time on the help!” The guests looked at each other, their faces filled with utter confusion. Then, they turned back to me and continued chatting. Tiffany was convinced I had brainwashed everyone while she was in Paris. Furious, she remembered something, and a cold smirk formed on her lips. Holding up her designer gown, she walked over to me, her face switching to a fake, sweet smile. “I might have played well, but I heard Miss Chloe is a master pianist herself. Why don’t you play a song to entertain our guests? Surely, you wouldn’t want to insult everyone by refusing.”

Tiffany looked at me, completely expecting a trainwreck. She had already done her homework. Chloe was tone-deaf and had never touched a piano in her life. If I tried to play, I would humiliate myself in front of high society. Once that happened, Carter would realize his “lookalike” was nothing but a low-class fraud. Tiffany was practically drooling at the thought of my public disgrace. But I just shrugged. “You heard wrong. I don’t know how to play the piano at all.” Tiffany’s smug grin froze. She stared at me in disbelief. “You’re just… admitting it? In the novels, the lookalike always tries to play anyway to copy the first love, even if she sucks! Why aren’t you following the script?!” By the end of her sentence, she was practically having a mental breakdown. This was her grand welcome-back party, designed specifically to humiliate me, and I wasn’t playing along. Just then, Carter walked over after finishing a business call. Seeing her teary-eyed, he frowned. “What’s going on?” She threw herself into his arms, sobbing dramatically. “Carter, babe, Chloe is bullying me!” Carter looked at me with a sigh. I immediately held up my hands. “I didn’t do anything.” The nearby guests quickly explained the situation to Carter. He rubbed his temples, looking visibly drained. “Chloe, just go play something. I’ll bump your overtime pay to fifty times.” I grinned instantly. “Mr. Harrison, you are the best boss ever!” I walked over to the grand piano, sat down, and slammed my hands onto the keys, creating a chaotic, ear-splitting racket that sounded like a cat being run over by a lawnmower. It was the complete opposite of Tiffany’s elegant performance. Tiffany smirked triumphantly, looking around the room, waiting for the guests to start laughing and pointing fingers at me. However, the guests just clinked their champagne glasses, completely ignoring the noise. She stood up, utterly shocked. “Why aren’t you guys laughing at her?! Call her a low-class street rat who doesn’t belong here!” One of the tech bros looked at her like she was crazy. “She’s a chef, not a concert pianist. Why would we mock her for not knowing how to play?” “Exactly. Besides, piano skills don’t define a person. Chloe might not play music, but her Truffle-crusted Beef Wellington is practically a religious experience. People have flaws, get over it.” Tiffany snapped, her voice screeching: “But you guys are just the background extras for this party! Your only job is to mock the fake lookalike! Why aren’t you doing your job?!” The entire ballroom went dead silent. You could literally hear the champagne bubbles popping. Mr. Sterling, one of the most powerful billionaires in the city, let out a cold laugh. “It seems Mr. Harrison’s party is too elite for us. We’re apparently just ‘background extras.’ Since we’re in the way, we’ll take our leave.” Within minutes, most of the high-profile guests walked out. No matter how much Carter tried to apologize, they refused to stay. Carter’s head was pounding, but Tiffany was still shouting at their retreating backs: “Let them leave! I am Carter’s queen! If they offend me, Carter will make all their companies go bankrupt tomorrow!” With that final comment, the remaining guests left too, looking at Tiffany like she belonged in an asylum. The grand gala was a total disaster. I was about to sneak out too, but Tiffany grabbed my wrist. “You can’t leave!” “Carter, the party is ruined, and it’s all Chloe’s fault! She set me up to make me look bad! You have to punish her!” Carter’s face went completely cold. The disappointment in his eyes was undeniable. “Tiffany, can you stop acting like a psycho? What happened to you?” Tiffany’s face drained of color. “You’re taking her side over mine? Carter, you say I changed, but it’s clearly you who changed!” “If you’re choosing her over me, you’ll regret it!” She grabbed her designer bag and stormed out of the villa. I patted Carter’s shoulder sympathetically. “Rough night, boss.” “By the way, don’t forget to wire that fifty-times overtime pay to my account.”

Just as I turned to leave, Carter groaned, clutching his stomach, his face turning pale. His ulcers were acting up again. Well, looks like I couldn’t leave just yet. I helped him to the sofa and rushed to the kitchen to brew him a soothing herbal remedy. After taking care of him all night, his color finally returned to normal. I stretched, getting ready to head out, when I saw Tiffany pacing nervously outside the front gate. Clearly, because Carter hadn’t chased after her last night, she was too embarrassed to just walk back in. Seeing me walk out, her eyes flared with rage. “I was gone for one night, and you couldn’t wait to jump into his bed?!” “Chloe, you’re much more devious than I thought. But don’t get smug. I have plenty of ways to ruin you!” I didn’t even want to respond. Talking to her felt like it was actively lowering my IQ. As I walked past, Tiffany seemed to make up her mind and rushed into the villa. “Carter, babe! I thought about it all night, and I realize I was wrong. I know Chloe is important to your health. I won’t try to kick her out anymore. Please forgive me!” Seeing Tiffany crying so pitifully, Carter’s expression softened. “I’m glad you finally understand.” “In that case, Chloe, why don’t you move back into the villa? I really need you around these couple of days.” I knew Carter was referring to his stomach issues, but Tiffany obviously misconstrued it. Seeing that Carter didn’t deny her “love triangle” theory and even took me back, her face turned pale with resentment. But then, she flashed a wicked, plotting smile at me. My stomach sank. I had a feeling things were about to get messy. While I was on high alert, Arthur the butler seemed to have found a kindred spirit in me. Every day, he would sneak into the kitchen to gossip about Tiffany’s latest antics. One afternoon, right as he finished whispering, Tiffany’s voice rang out from behind us. “Carter, look at Chloe! You pay her so much money, and she’s still throwing herself at other men in your house!” By “money,” she meant my “sugar baby allowance.” Carter didn’t get her reference, but he frowned anyway. “Arthur, you’re an employee here. Please maintain professional boundaries.” Arthur offered a awkward smile and quickly slid out of the kitchen. Seeing that Carter only scolded Arthur but didn’t say a word to me, Tiffany’s eyes burned with jealousy. The next day, while I was prepping lunch, Tiffany suddenly burst into the kitchen and snatched the chef’s knife from my hand. “Chloe, your little game ends today! This is the day you get kicked out of the Harrison family!” With that, she grabbed the knife, sliced open a hidden bag of fake blood near her waist, and immediately let out a dramatic shriek. “Ahhh! It hurts! Chloe, I just wanted to help you chop some vegetables! Why did you stab me?!” Hearing the commotion, Carter ran downstairs and caught Tiffany as she “collapsed” onto the floor. His brow furrowed deeply. “Chloe, I know you’ve been put through a lot lately, but you can’t just resort to physical violence!” I calmly pointed to the ceiling corner. “Mr. Harrison, there are security cameras in the kitchen. Before you play the hero, maybe check the footage first?” Tiffany clearly hadn’t anticipated the camera. Panic flashed in her eyes. Seeing Carter reach for his phone to check the live feed, she immediately grabbed his lapels, crying hysterically. “Carter, babe, I’m bleeding out! Forget the camera! Take me to the hospital, please!” Panicked by the “blood,” Carter scooped her up and ran to his car. After thinking about it, I texted Arthur to secure the footage, and then took an Uber to the hospital. Inside the examination room, seeing that the nurse had stepped out, Tiffany grabbed the doctor’s hand and slid a black titanium card into his pocket. “Listen to me. In a minute, tell the guy outside that my kidney is failing from the stab wound, and I need an immediate transplant from the girl who came with us. Got it?”

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Seven years of silence. I finally returned to New York with my seven-year-old son to visit my parents. The moment I stepped off the plane, I ran straight into my ex-fiancé’s best friend at the airport. He blocked my way and asked, “It’s been seven years, Chloe. When are you going to apologize to Austin for running away from your own wedding?” His best friend, Austin Sinclair, was the ex-fiancé I had almost married. Seven years ago, we were standing in a luxury hotel, ready to exchange our vows. But right before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, he suddenly halted the ceremony. He reached into the crowd, pulled a girl in a white dress onto the stage, and made a passionate announcement to all the guests: “Serena is my first love. I promised her that I would walk her down the aisle once in this lifetime.” “After today, I will be a married man and settle down. I’m taking this opportunity to fulfill my promise to her.” After saying that, he nodded to the priest, signaling him to continue. The crowd gasped. Everyone looked at me, waiting to see the bride become the biggest laughingstock in the city. I stood there in silence for a few seconds. Then, I grabbed the skirt of my wedding gown and walked out of the venue. He didn’t chase after me, and I didn’t wait. Now, seven years had passed, and my child was already seven years old. Yet, my ex-fiancé’s best friend was still here, trying to convince me to apologize so we could “rekindle our old flame.” I laughed out loud. I pulled my son out from behind me and pushed him forward. “Sweetheart, say hi to the uncle. Tell him what your daddy’s name is.”

Carter stared at the little boy in disbelief. “Chloe, you actually ran away with his child? You gave birth to Austin’s son?!” “I mean, using a kid to tie him down is a pretty cheap trick, but hey, at least it shows Austin didn’t wait seven years for nothing.” I knew he had completely misunderstood. I corrected him calmly: “This child has nothing to do with Austin Sinclair. I got married seven years ago. He is the son of my current husband.” Carter froze, looking at me as if I had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “You dared to marry someone else behind Austin’s back? Do you have any idea how crazily he’s been looking for you?” I nodded, my expression completely serene. “Yes, I got married. Seven years ago.” Just then, my Uber arrived. I tried to push past him to walk out. But he grabbed my suitcase, refusing to let go. “Chloe, make yourself clear. What do you mean you got married seven years ago? How old is this kid? Is he Austin’s?” Carter’s agitated voice was like a thunderclap, drawing curious stares from the travelers around us. But he didn’t care. His eyes widened like saucers, scanning my son’s face inch by inch. He kept nodding to himself, utterly convinced of his own theory. “This kid is definitely Austin’s blood. Look at those big eyes, double eyelids, and those dimples!” “Chloe, you’ve got some nerve, running away with his secret baby.” “No wonder you kept silent for seven years. You wanted to wait until the child grew up so you could use him to force your way into the Sinclair family. You are so calculating, Chloe.” I frowned. I couldn’t see a single resemblance between my son and Austin. After all, my husband was of French-American descent. The kid’s genetics were entirely different. Before I could speak, Carter continued his lecture: “Even though Austin never stopped looking for you and even cold-shouldered Serena for your sake, as his brother, I still have to warn you. Don’t think you can act high and mighty just because you have his kid.” “You ruined the Sinclair family’s reputation when you fled the wedding seven years ago. If Austin hadn’t taken the punishment from his father to get his parents to forgive you, you would have been blacklisted from high society forever.” “It’s still early. Let’s go to a luxury store right now. Buy some expensive whiskey and gifts. When we go to the Sinclair mansion later to beg for forgiveness, I can at least help put in a good word for you…” “Stop right there!” I couldn’t stand his voice anymore and cut him off. “Who said I’m going to the Sinclair house? Let me remind you again: I am married. This child belongs to my husband. His last name is Vance, and his father is Ethan Vance…” “Chloe!” I didn’t know if the word “husband” had triggered him, but Carter suddenly grabbed my wrist, squeezing so hard it felt like he wanted to crush my bones. “You’re thirty years old! Can you stop being so childish?!” “Do you still think you’re some young, naive girl? Yes, you’re beautiful and talented, but the Vance family? An elite global shipping empire? A rude, classless runaway bride like you wants to climb onto the Vance family? Have you lost your mind while living abroad?” The Vance family was the most prominent shipping dynasty in the country. To support national trade, they had moved their main operations to New York over the past few years. They were incredibly powerful, a force that even the Sinclair family wouldn’t dare to provoke. And in Carter’s eyes, I was just a gold digger who had been publicly humiliated by Austin. Seeing me stay silent, his tone softened, and he began to lecture me with a sigh: “I know Austin made a mistake seven years ago. But he’s a billionaire, and he waited for you for seven years. Isn’t that enough?” “Yes, he didn’t apologize, and he didn’t chase after you. But over the years, no matter how much he liked Serena, he never married her, did he? Chloe, don’t be so ungrateful.” Carter sighed and took a business card from his pocket, handing it to me. “This is Austin’s private contact. He has inherited Sinclair Enterprises now. He’s one of the top entrepreneurs in New York—young, handsome, and filthy rich. Countless women dream of marrying him. Don’t waste this opportunity.” He looked at me with absolute certainty. He was positive that I would ecstatically grab Austin’s card, call him immediately, admit my mistakes, and beg for a happy family reunion. Instead, I took the card, glanced at it, and tore it into tiny pieces. “Too late.”

Seven years ago, on the day of my wedding with Austin. My mother was so excited that she couldn’t sleep at all the night before. My father didn’t say much, but he secretly wiped away tears behind my back before we left. And my grandparents, who lived a simple life in rural Maine, saved up for months just to fly in. They were so old, yet they insisted on coming because they didn’t want to miss their beloved granddaughter’s big day. I thought that day would be the happiest day of my life. But right before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, Austin halted the ceremony. He pulled Serena, who was also wearing a white gown, onto the stage, and confessed his feelings to her in front of all the guests. “Serena is my first love. I promised her that I would walk her down the aisle once in this lifetime.” “After today, I will be another woman’s husband. This is my last chance.” “Chloe, you’ll let me do this, right?” Clutching my bouquet, I looked around the hall in absolute confusion, feeling as if my heart had been ripped out of my chest. “Why?” I asked him. Why did he have to humiliate me like this at our own wedding? Austin smirked and pointed at my parents and grandparents sitting in the front row. “It’s nothing. I just noticed how much your cheap relatives love to freeload off my family. Since I’m willing to marry you anyway, what’s wrong with sharing a bit of the spotlight with Serena?” The crowd began to whisper, pointing fingers at my parents and grandparents. My grandfather, a retired school principal who valued honor above all else, had a heart attack on the spot. My grandmother, embarrassed and red-faced, tried to explain, but Austin’s snobbish relatives threw garbage at her and shouted insults. I looked at the wedding dress that was supposed to symbolize love. After a moment of silence, I grabbed my skirt, turned around, and led my family out of the hotel without looking back. From the day of the ruined wedding to the day I decided to move abroad, seven full days passed. Austin never came to apologize. Instead, his first love, Serena, showed up with Austin’s mother. In the hotel café, they held hands like a real mother and daughter. But the moment they saw me, their smiles vanished. Serena spoke in a slow, patronizing tone: “Chloe, I’m really sorry about the wedding. I didn’t expect Austin to still remember our promise after we’d been broken up for so long. I’m sorry you were humiliated.” Mrs. Sinclair patted Serena’s hand gently. “Why are you apologizing? Austin did what he was supposed to do. You two are childhood sweethearts. A newcomer could never compare to that.” Then, she turned to me with an elegant, fake smile. “Chloe, I’m not trying to criticize you. Just don’t take it to heart.” I took a sip of my coffee, the bitter taste spreading through my mouth. Mrs. Sinclair took a check from her designer bag and pushed it toward me. “There’s $500,000 on this check. Take it, and get your family out of New York.” I stared at the check and asked quietly, “Is this what Austin wants?” “Of course,” Mrs. Sinclair sneered. “You ran away from the wedding. What else do you expect my son to do?” “Do you know who Serena is? Her father is the Sinclair family’s most valued business partner. As for you…” She paused for a second and sighed with disdain. “You’re just a small-town girl who got a lucky glimpse of high society. This is more than enough for you, don’t you think?” I didn’t say a word. I took the check, donated every penny of it to an elementary school in my hometown, and left the country. I had been gone for seven years. And now, my son was seven years old.

“Chloe! Are you even listening to me?!” Carter’s hysterical voice dragged me back to reality. He looked at me with an expression of pure frustration, as if I were beyond saving. “Austin is incredibly successful now, and he still misses you. If you don’t take this chance to apologize, you’ll never get him back.” “You used to be so scheming. How can you be so stupid now?” Looking at his angry face, I felt nothing but exhaustion. I raised my voice to make sure he heard me clearly: “I, Chloe, am married. My husband loves me, and my son is wonderful. I am living a great life, and I don’t need anyone’s forgiveness. Stop bothering me.” After saying that, I grabbed my son’s hand and pulled him toward the waiting Uber. Carter tried to chase us, but he was left eating our exhaust fumes. Panicking, he pulled out his phone, opened SnapChat, and quickly messaged Austin: [Austin, I just saw Chloe. She’s back in New York.] On the other side of the screen, the man froze. He stood up so fast he almost crashed into his office’s glass door, rushing out in a frenzy. Arriving at our pre-booked luxury hotel, I unpacked our bags and took my son down to the lobby restaurant for lunch. As soon as the elevator doors opened, a loud gasp echoed through the lobby. “Austin! There she is! Chloe is coming down!” I looked up. Carter was standing in the lobby, accompanied by a very handsome man. He was tall, dressed in a bespoke designer suit, with his hair slightly messy over his forehead. It was obvious he had rushed over in a desperate hurry. My ex-fiancé, the man I had almost married—Austin Sinclair. He stood a few feet away, his eyes locked onto the little boy holding my hand. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he choked out: “Chloe… is he my son?” I froze. Memories flashed through my mind. Like most clichéd “rich boy meets poor girl” romances, Austin and I had fallen in love at first sight in college. He was a wealthy heir who threw thousands of dollars around like pocket change. I was a hard-working scholarship student from a small town, working part-time at a local diner to pay for my books. Because of a chance encounter, we fell in love and stayed together for five years. For his sake, I quit my part-time job and studied like crazy. After graduation, I joined the Sinclair enterprise and became one of the most talented designers in New York. For my sake, he rebelled against his family, gave up his dream of studying history, and took over his family’s business. He protected me from the whispers of those who called me a gold digger, turning me into his official fiancée. We had poured everything into that relationship. Until Serena returned. She was perfect—beautiful, elegant, and Austin’s childhood sweetheart. At first, I didn’t care. Trust was the most important thing between partners, and Austin loved me so much. We were getting married, after all. But reality hit hard. Austin began working later and later. He canceled our dates more and more frequently. Once, because I couldn’t decide on the invitation designs, I went to his office to find him. His secretary stopped me coldly: “Mr. Sinclair is in a private meeting. No one is allowed to disturb him.” But a second later, Serena walked past me with an elegant sway, pushing his office door open without even knocking. That day, I lost my temper in front of Austin for the first time. I demanded to know what his relationship with Serena really was. He didn’t answer. Instead, he threw a stack of printed screenshots onto the desk. They were receipts of the first-class tickets and five-star hotel rooms I had booked for my parents. He looked at me with deep disappointment. “Chloe, do you remember when you wouldn’t even buy a fifty-dollar shirt because you thought it was too expensive?” “They all said you were only after my money. I didn’t want to believe them, but look at this.” I stood there, shocked. I tried to explain that I was earning my own money now and just wanted to give my aging parents a comfortable trip. I even pulled up my bank statement to prove that every single cent spent was my own. But Austin only gave me a cold grunt and told me to get out. After that, our relationship turned icy. I tried everything to fix it. I stopped using the black card he gave me for the wedding. I kept every single receipt of my personal expenses and handed them to his assistant. Three days before the wedding, to save money, I even gave up on the diamond-encrusted gown I had initially chosen and picked a simple, satin dress that cost half the price. On the day of my final fitting, Carter and Serena both showed up. As I walked out of the dressing room, I heard Serena whispering to Austin: “You should really sign a prenuptial agreement. Girls from her background are always looking for a payday.” I was young and proud back then. I couldn’t take that kind of humiliation. I interrupted them on the spot and confronted Austin: “If you don’t trust me, then let’s call off this wedding.” Austin panicked. He frantically explained that he didn’t mean it that way, promising he had never thought about a prenup. He insisted the wedding would go on as planned. I thought he finally trusted me. Until he brought Serena onto the stage at our wedding and publicly insulted my family. Only then did I realize he had never believed in me. And now, Austin was staring at me, practically begging for an answer. “Chloe, please tell me. Is he my child?”

I stepped back, hiding my son behind me. “No. He is my husband’s child. His last name is Vance.” The name seemed to trigger Austin. His eyes instantly turned bloodshot. He gritted his teeth, veins popping on his forehead. “Chloe, at least make up a believable lie! We’ve been apart for seven years, and he is exactly seven years old! Don’t tell me you slept with some random guy the second you ran away from me!” I frowned. What did he mean by “some random guy”? I had broken up with him, dated normally, got married, and had a baby. How did that make my husband a “random guy” in his mouth? I took a deep breath to reply, but suddenly, a violent force pushed me from behind. I fell to the floor, my palms scraping against the hard tiles, leaving them bloody and raw. “Mom! What are you doing?!” Austin gasped, immediately reaching out to help me up. But I flinched away from him, leaving him freezing in place. Mrs. Sinclair had grabbed my son’s wrist, her voice shrill and piercing: “What am I doing? I’m taking my grandson back!” “I’ve seen plenty of gold diggers like her. She’s just playing hard to get by pretending she doesn’t want you!” “She took my money and kidnapped my grandson. I haven’t called the police yet, which is already a mercy!” She turned to her bodyguards, shouting, “What are you standing there for? Take my grandson!” The bodyguards immediately stepped forward, grabbing Leo and pulling him away. Panicking, I tried to scramble up to fight them, but Austin pinned me down. “Give me back my son! How many times do I have to tell you, he is not Austin’s child!” I screamed. Leo was terrified, sobbing hysterically. “Let me go! I want my mommy and daddy! Mommy, help me!” Austin tried to hold my hands while using a soft, sickening voice to soothe the boy: “Don’t cry, buddy. Your mommy is just being difficult. Daddy is taking you home.” Leo kicked violently, one of his sneakers flying off. He screamed, his bare foot stomping on the floor: “You’re not my dad! My dad is Ethan Vance! He’s coming, and he’s going to ruin you!” Austin’s face darkened instantly. He glared at the bodyguards. “The kid is brainwashed. He dares to use Ethan Vance’s name to threaten us? Who knows what kind of trouble he’ll cause in the future.” “Marcus, don’t hold back. Teach him some manners.” Mrs. Sinclair nodded in agreement. “Exactly. He clearly has no manners. He needs to be disciplined.” “Thank god Carter found him. Otherwise, who knows when our Sinclair blood would finally return home.” She ordered the bodyguards coldly: “Tie his hands, gag him, and lock him in the playroom when we get home.” “Don’t let him out until he learns to behave.” “I dare you to try!” A deep, powerful voice boomed through the lobby. I looked up. Several sleek black Bentleys had pulled up outside the hotel. Surrounded by a group of imposing security guards, a tall, commanding man with an undeniable aura of power stepped into the lobby. Who else could it be but my husband, Ethan Vance?

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On my wedding day, Ethan Lockhart blew up the hotel. He dug me out of the rubble with his bare hands. Looking at my amnesiac face, he hid the wild joy in his eyes. With a trembling voice, he told me he was the love of my life. After we got married, Ethan loved me fiercely for four whole years. And then, he got bored. He smoothly slid off his wedding ring and gently stroked his young assistant’s pregnant belly. “Give me a child, and I’m yours.” “Of course, the usual rule—don’t let Vivi find out.” But he didn’t know that his precious little girl had secretly recorded that exact moment. She triumphantly sent the video to my Snapchat, telling me it was time for the old woman to step down. And what he knew even less—was that I had already recovered my memory. Before him, the true love of my life was Julian Vance. Handsome, ruthless, and highly vindictive. And I have the exact same temper. Ethan Lockhart, you are done. Ethan was incredibly good at keeping his mistress hidden. Unfortunately, she was bold and highly ambitious. The girl, Hailey Miller, showed up at my doorstep, proudly flaunting her pregnant belly. “Vivian, I’m pregnant with twins—a boy and a girl. The doctor says they are perfectly healthy.” “Their dad feels so bad about my morning sickness. Lately, he’s been giving me prenatal massages every night. He only comes home to his aging wife after I fall asleep.” “He says he can’t wait to meet his babies!” I looked up with a faint smile, a cold gleam flashing in my eyes. “Didn’t your baby daddy ever tell you what kind of woman I am?” Since Ethan was so eager to see the babies, why don’t I help him out? Twenty minutes later, an overnight express package was delivered to Ethan’s office. I sipped my afternoon tea, watching the office security feed. The moment the man received my package, his stern face melted into pure warmth. But the second he opened it—his face turned completely pale. Inside was a miscarriage report. Along with the remains of his and Hailey’s twins. Forty minutes later, Ethan rushed home. Hailey was lying on a makeshift hospital bed in our guest room, sobbing hysterically the moment she saw him. “Ethan, she killed our babies! The ones you were looking forward to every single day!” “Kill this bitch and avenge our children!” A flash of intense pain crossed Ethan’s eyes. He grabbed my wrist, his cold, hard voice tight with suppressed rage. “Vivian! She’s just a fresh college graduate! Did you have to be so cruel?!” In our four years of marriage, this was the first time he had ever raised his voice at me. And it was for another woman. I threw my phone onto the bed in front of him. The Snapchat history was packed with intimate videos of him and Hailey. Along with texts calling me a hag and telling me to sign the divorce papers. “Your little girl sent these to provoke me. As your wife, I felt highly disrespected. Can’t I strike back?” Ethan froze. He shot a freezing look at Hailey. Then, his gaze softened, and he dropped to one knee in front of me, taking my hand. “Vivi, you misunderstood.” “I just didn’t want you to go through the pain of childbirth. I planned to let her have them so we could raise them together.” “I swear on my life, you are the only one I love.” I believed he was telling the truth. When we first discussed having kids, he had signed up for a labor pain simulator. That was the first time I ever saw Ethan cry. He had held me so tight, his voice shaking. “Vivi, why does giving birth hurt so much?” “Let’s not have kids, okay? I can’t bear to see you suffer.” But just because he couldn’t bear to see me suffer— He let another woman carry his heirs? I turned my head with a mocking smile and saw Hailey’s eyes widen in absolute disbelief. I laughed softly. “Ethan, you are truly brutal—stabbing both of us with a single sentence.” “So, what do you plan to do now?” “If anyone dared to make me angry in the past, you wouldn’t hesitate to ruin their family and run them out of New York.”

The man’s eyes swept coldly over Hailey. But his trembling hands betrayed him. After a long silence, he spoke: “Vivi, I apologize on her behalf.” “What do I need to do to make you calm down and let me take her away?” A sudden wave of murderous intent surged in my chest. No matter how pretty his words were, no matter how cold he acted, in the end, he was still protecting her! Without a word, I swept all the expensive ceramic vases in the room onto the floor. Without a second thought, Ethan kicked off his shoes. He stepped onto the sharp porcelain shards with his bare feet. Step by step, leaving bloody footprints, he walked over, picked Hailey up, and walked out. The bright red blood mixing with the white porcelain made my eyes twitch. Ethan was crazy, but he was also an extreme egoist. Since the day I met him, he had only ever bled for me, only ever taken a loss for me. My gaze turned ice-cold. Ethan still didn’t know I had recovered my memory. He knew even less—that I had actually started to fall for him. There were even moments when I thought about pretending to have amnesia forever, just to spend the rest of my life with him. But now… A trash man, and a woman trying to steal what’s mine. I will make them pay a devastating price! After that day, Ethan sent me different gifts every day. Yet, he ran off to Hailey’s place every single night. Tonight’s excuse was a late-night business dinner, claiming he would be home a few hours late. Right after Ethan lied to me, Hailey’s Snapchat popped up. “Haha, regret it now, old woman?” “So what if you killed my babies? He pities me even more now. He cooks nutritional meals for me every single day.” In the video, the tall, powerful billionaire was wearing an apron, busy in the kitchen. Ethan never knew how to cook. For me, he had taken classes all over the city. Now, the dishes he was making for Hailey were all my favorites. Sweet and sour pork, braised beef, white fungus soup… Looking at the food in the video, I could almost smell the familiar aroma. A wave of nausea hit my throat. Damn you, Ethan Lockhart! You ruined all my favorite dishes! Hailey laughed maliciously and triumphantly in the voice note. “He also said he’s going to give me another baby tonight, while you…” “You’re done, old woman.” Just as the voice note ended, my car was suddenly hit with a loud crash. I looked up to see seven or eight muscular, tattooed thugs holding baseball bats, surrounding my car. “Are you the bitch who bullied my little sister, Hailey?” I raised an eyebrow, calmly dialing Ethan’s number. As always, he picked up on the first ring. “Ethan, Hailey sent some of her gangster friends to surround my car.” But the voice on the other end sounded exhausted and annoyed. “Vivi, can you stop playing games? She’s just a college grad, how could she possibly know…” I smiled and cut him off directly. “I won’t fight back no matter what they do to me. Come or don’t. Up to you.” With that, I hung up. The night wind was chilly. I stared blankly at the traffic light, counting the cycles. After just three rotations, Ethan appeared. He had run into traffic, abandoned his car, and sprinted all the way here. He was panting heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his white shirt clinging to his muscles. I watched him for a moment and smiled. Actually, I lied. The thugs who wanted to hurt me were currently lying unconscious all over the asphalt. Ethan glared at me, gritting his teeth. Finally, his eyes fell on my scraped leg. With a mixture of heartache and frustration, he knelt in front of me. He gently held my calf and applied ointment with extreme care. “You only do this because you know I love you!” The man had a thousand complaints in his heart, but he could only vent them this way. At that moment, my heart flickered again. For once, I felt the urge to explain. “I didn’t fake this. Hailey really called them.” But without even thinking, Ethan said: “I asked Hailey. She swore she didn’t do it. She’s a sweet, simple girl, she’s not like…” He stopped mid-sentence. But I understood. She wasn’t like me—devious and wicked. My face went cold. I pulled out my phone and called my lawyer right in front of him. “Draft a divorce agreement. I’m coming to pick it up now.” I shoved Ethan out of the car and started the engine. But he actually stepped right in front of my hood. The night wind blew his messy hair, his eyes wild and predatory. He clenched his jaw, his voice vibrating from his chest. “Vivian, if you want a divorce, you’ll have to run me over first!” The bright headlights illuminated his manic expression. I stared at him, and slammed my foot on the gas.

The tires screeched violently. I slammed the brakes, stopping just inches from his knees. But Ethan didn’t flinch. He stared at me with burning, obsessive eyes. This time, I gritted my teeth: “Psychopath!” Furious, I threw the car in reverse, turned around, and sped away. A few days later, I received another Snapchat from Hailey. Surprisingly, her tone was incredibly humble this time. “Vivian, I’m texting to apologize. I really know I was wrong.” “I know I made you angry. Please give me a chance to make it up to you?” She sent me an address, saying she wanted to treat me to a relaxing day. To apologize face-to-face. I went. A massive, sprawling lavender estate appeared before my eyes. Hailey was wearing a white dress, smiling as she stood in front of the deep purple fields, waiting for me. Like she owned the place, she used a key to unlock the estate’s heavy gates. But the moment my eyes landed on the massive photo hanging in the foyer, my body froze. In the photo, Hailey and Ethan were holding hands, lying in the lavender fields, kissing. It was beautiful and romantic. And the timestamp on the photo—four years ago. Before I had lost my memory. Hailey’s soft, triumphant laughter came from beside me. “Vivian, actually, I’ve known you for a long time. I even helped Ethan plan how to pursue you.” Only then did I realize that Hailey had known Ethan long before I did. She was a charity case he had sponsored. Ethan had brought her out of some poor mountain town, and since she had nowhere to go, she lived in his house. The hallway was lined with photos, every single one of them a memory of Hailey and Ethan. This lavender estate was built for her. Listening to Hailey introduce their past photo by photo, my palms actually began to feel numb. She smiled, looking at my wedding ring. “Every single gift Ethan gave you, I helped him pick out.” “Including that Starry Night wedding ring—he only bought it because I loved the design.” I knew she was lying. Before we got married, Ethan had selected over twenty designs. He had brought them to me to let me choose. But that didn’t stop me from feeling absolutely disgusted. Without any expression, I slipped off the ring and tossed it casually into the lavender bushes. Seeing this, Hailey’s eyes curved in deep satisfaction. “Ethan loved you so much, I was so jealous.” “But it doesn’t matter—men get bored! I acted obedient, told him I wanted nothing, hoping that when he thought of me, he’d throw me a little bit of the love you threw away.” “And guess what?” Hailey laughed hysterically, as if recalling something hilarious. “He slept with me. Voluntarily!” “Once a man catches his white moonlight, she just becomes a stain on the wall. He’s bored of you!” “So I suggest you pack your bags and get lost. Ethan will be mine sooner or later!” I stared at her for a long time, then suddenly gave her a sweet smile. “I’m so glad you’re this much of a bitch.” Hailey froze, looking at me in confusion. I smirked. “Now I don’t have to feel any guilt.” Under her bewildered gaze, I kicked over a massive wine rack. Expensive vintage wine shattered all over the floor. I pulled out a lighter. The tiny flame illuminated Hailey’s horrified face. The next second, the fire roared, swallowing the entire estate.

Ethan arrived incredibly fast. Seeing me and Hailey trapped in the growing flames, his eyes nearly popped out of his skull. Hailey screamed at the top of her lungs: “Ethan, save me! The fire is reaching me!” “I just lost our twins for you!” I looked at Ethan with amusement and mouthed to him: “Between the two of us, who are you saving first?” The wild flames licked the ceiling, lighting up the agonizing struggle on the man’s face. He drenched himself in water and charged toward Hailey. At the same time, I heard his panicked voice. “Vivi, I know what you’re capable of! You can get out on your own, but Hailey can’t!” He scooped Hailey up into his arms. Through the thick, rolling smoke, I saw Hailey look back at me with a triumphant smirk. I smiled back. Crossing my arms, I didn’t move an inch. The fire raged hotter and hotter. Ethan saw that I wasn’t moving. He hesitated for half a second, clenching his teeth. He ended up putting Hailey down, running back to throw a wet jacket over me, and pulling me out of the burning building. I stared at him with a look of slight disappointment. What a pity—if he had chosen to abandon me just now, I could have divorced him easily. As for the other half of my emotions, I didn’t want to think about them. After pulling me out, Ethan went back to save Hailey. By the time they got out, a wooden shelf in the hallway had collapsed. It had crushed Hailey’s leg. As Ethan carried her out, she was crying hysterically. I knew Ethan was furious. When he brushed past me, he slammed his shoulder hard into mine. He barked a cold order to his driver: “Take my wife to Mercy Hospital too!” In the VIP ward, Hailey’s leg was wrapped in thick bandages. She gently held Ethan’s hand. “Ethan, don’t be mad. I’m okay.” “Don’t blame Vivian for what happened at the estate, and don’t blame yourself for saving her first. It’s all my fault…” As she spoke, her eyes brimmed with tears, but she stubbornly held them back. She looked like the ultimate victim. Ethan’s heart ached with guilt. Completely ignoring my presence, he cupped her face, kissing her forehead and whispering sweet words to comfort her. Then, he frowned and looked at me. “Vivian, you broke into Hailey’s property and set it on fire. Don’t you think you owe her an apology?!” I gave a provoking laugh, my voice firm. “I’m not apologizing.” Ethan’s frown deepened. Hailey chimed in sweet-temperedly: “Ethan, don’t force Vivian. Don’t fight because of me!” Suddenly, she flashed a quick, wicked grin at me while tapping something on her phone. The next second, reporters burst into the ward. “Are you Mrs. Lockhart?” “We heard you don’t allow any women near your husband. This assistant was just doing her job, and you set her estate on fire. Is that true?” Dozens of microphones and cameras were shoved into my face. Ethan’s expression instantly turned to pure panic. Four years ago, to hide me after my memory loss, he had gone to extreme lengths. He had spent tens of millions of dollars planting fake leads to lure my true love, Julian Vance, out of the country. He had also put a strict media blackout on my face, making sure not a single photo of me leaked for four years. He marched toward me to block the cameras. But right then, Hailey pretended to be knocked over by a reporter, crying out in pain. “Ethan, my stomach hurts so much. Is my wound bleeding again?” “It’s fine, go check on Vivian first. I can find the doctor myself.” “After all… this isn’t the first time you’ve abandoned me for her.” She let out a bitter tear. Ethan froze. Through the crowd of aggressive reporters, he locked eyes with me. “Again? You set up these reporters yourself, didn’t you?” “Vivian, I’m not falling for your tricks this time.” “Hailey is right. I’ve spoiled you too much over the last four years. It’s time to teach you a lesson!” With that, he scooped Hailey up and turned his back on me. “Hailey, I’m sorry. I’ll never let her hurt you again!” Over his shoulder, Hailey shot me a highly smug look. This time, she had finally won. I held my waist, laughing until tears came out. Ethan had spent four years desperately trying to hide me. And all it took was one Hailey Miller to make him break his own rules? The ward door slammed shut. I looked at the camera, pushed my hair back, and smiled. I knew Julian would see this. With just a tiny hint, he would stop at nothing to find me. My true love, Julian Vance.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “463125”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Eight months pregnant, I caught my father-in-law, Richard, walking out of my best friend Jessica’s apartment. Two of his shirt buttons were misaligned, and there was a prominent lipstick smudge on his collar. I told my mother-in-law, Helen, about it that very night. She stared at me in silence for three seconds, then slapped me hard across the face. “You were the one who brought that little tramp into our house in the first place!” “If you hadn’t invited her over, do you think your father would have made this kind of mistake?” Richard was sitting on the sofa watching TV, never once turning his head. Helen pointed at the hardwood floor, her voice cold. “Get on your knees.” “Apologize to your father. You’ve completely humiliated this family.” I was heavily pregnant, but I knelt on the cold floor for twenty minutes. By the time my knees went numb, my dress was soaked. I was bleeding. I braced myself against the wall, stood up, and dragged myself to the front door. “You’re right. It is my fault.” “My mistake was marrying into this family. And this baby… I don’t want it anymore.” 0

“Your wife tripped on her own feet and hit her stomach against the edge of the coffee table. Her father and I are taking her to the hospital right now.” Helen’s voice drifted from the back of the ambulance. She was on the phone with Ethan. I lay on the stretcher. I didn’t even feel the pinch when the nurse inserted the IV catheter into the back of my hand. All my senses were concentrated on my lower abdomen. It was a sharp, tearing pain that kept pulling downward, as if someone were violently ripping something out from inside me. My dress was completely soaked from the waist down. The heavy metallic smell of blood filled my nose, making my head spin. “It’s not a big deal. If you’re busy at the conference, don’t rush back. I’ve got things handled here.” He couldn’t rush back. Ethan was at a business conference in the capital, a four-hour train ride away. Helen hung up the phone and slipped it back into her coat pocket. Her eyes swept over me—only for a fraction of a second—before landing on the IV drip in my arm. “Doctor, can we save the baby?” “The situation doesn’t look good. We’ll have to run an ultrasound and evaluate once we reach the ER.” She nodded curtly and leaned back into her seat. Richard sat on the folding stool beside her, his hands clasped over his knees, staring blankly at the ambulance floor. The magenta lipstick smudge was still on his collar. Under the harsh white lights of the ambulance, it was painfully glaring. His buttons were still mismatched, his collar crooked, making him look like he had thrown his clothes on in a panicked rush. But Helen hadn’t asked him to change. From our living room to the ambulance, Helen had only done two things: dial 911 and call Ethan. Before getting into the ambulance, she had leaned down and whispered a warning in my ear. “Keep your mouth shut when we get to the hospital.” It wasn’t a plea. It was a threat. When they wheeled me into the emergency room, the corridor lights were blindingly bright, flashing past one by one. I heard voices shouting about gestational age, blood loss, and blood pressure. I opened my mouth to speak, but not a single sound came out. Before the operating room doors swung shut, I heard Helen explaining the situation to the triage nurse outside. “She tripped at home. Her belly slammed right into the corner of the wooden coffee table.” The nurse asked, “Who was home at the time?” “My husband and I. We both saw it happen.” Richard stood beside her, remaining silent. He didn’t need to say anything. His silence was his consent. I don’t remember much of what happened after that. There were bright lights, the clinking of metal instruments, the suffocating pressure of an oxygen mask pressed over my face, and cold hands pressing against my abdomen. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. I wanted to hold onto something, but my fingers only found the cold, sterile edge of the metal operating table. When I finally regained consciousness, I was in a ward. White ceiling, white sheets, and an IV bag dripping steadily above my head. My stomach was flat. It wasn’t an empty feeling of hunger. It was a hollow, deflated sensation, as if a vital part of me had been violently scooped out. I reached down and touched it. Soft. Flat. Eight months. I was only six weeks away from my due date. The door was slightly ajar, letting in a sliver of light from the hallway. A nurse pushed a cart past, glanced at me, stopped, and poked her head in. “You’re awake? Don’t move. I’ll get the doctor.” She hurried out. The other bed in the room was empty. The entire space felt incredibly hollow. Soon, I heard soft footsteps in the hallway. They were light and hesitant, as if trying not to disturb anyone. Then, a familiar voice spoke. “Richard, I brought you a change of clothes. I also brought some hot herbal chicken broth in the thermos. Drink it while it’s hot.” It was Jessica, my best friend. She was wearing a cream-colored cardigan, her hair styled in a neat bun. She held a shopping bag and a thermos, her makeup absolutely flawless. The young nurse at the station took the thermos and placed it on the counter, asking casually, “Are you a family member?” Jessica offered a soft, sweet smile. “Practically. They don’t have much family in the city, so I’m just helping out.” When she handed the bag of clothes to Richard, her fingers lingered on the strap for a second. Richard took it and, for the first time, lifted his head. Their eyes met. Jessica was the first to look away, offering a shy, demure smile. I knew that smile all too well. Throughout our four years of college, I had seen her use that exact same smile on guys a thousand times. Helen walked down the hallway. When she saw Jessica, her steps hesitated for a moment. Jessica immediately stepped forward and gently took Helen’s arm. “Helen, you must be exhausted after sitting here for so long. I just asked the nurses, and there’s a lounge nearby. Why don’t you go take a nap? I’ll watch over Chloe.” Helen stared at her. She stared for three long seconds. “Alright. Thank you, Jessica.” The door to my room was pushed open. Jessica walked in carrying the thermos. Seeing my open eyes, she froze slightly. “Chloe, you’re awake?” She set the thermos on the nightstand and leaned over me. She placed her hand on my arm. Her fingers were cool, her nails perfectly manicured and painted with a sheer topcoat. “How are you feeling? Does it hurt? I came as soon as I heard.” I stared at the spot where her fingers touched my skin. “You got here incredibly fast.” “I heard about the baby… Don’t think too much about it right now. Just focus on recovering.” Her eyes welled with tears, her eyelashes fluttering dramatically. I had known Jessica for eleven years. She did this every single time she faked crying. “Chloe, get some rest. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right outside.” She straightened up and walked out with the empty bag. She didn’t close the door all the way. From the hallway, I could hear her whispering to Richard, their voices low and intimate. “I put the clothes in your bag. Change into them tomorrow.” “Okay.” “I already took care of the stain on your collar. No one will notice.” 0

“Doctor, how is she really doing?” Helen’s voice drifted in from outside. There was an urgency in her tone that I had never heard before. But she wasn’t anxious for me—she was anxious about the baby. The doctor, a middle-aged man, spoke in a calm, measured voice. “The patient suffered a placental abruption, which caused severe hemorrhaging. We had to perform an emergency C-section. We couldn’t save the baby.” The hallway fell dead silent for two seconds. Then, Helen’s voice spiked. “How is that possible? He was eight months old! How could you not save him?” “The blood loss was too severe. By the time she was brought in, we had already missed the critical window. How did she get injured?” “She tripped. She fell at home.” Helen answered without a second of hesitation. “I see… Just make sure she gets plenty of rest. Her emotional state will be very fragile over the next few days. Try not to trigger her.” “Of course, of course. Thank you, Doctor.” Their footsteps faded away. I stared at a water stain on the ceiling. It looked like a curled-up shrimp. Gone. The little life that had been kicking inside me for five months was just… gone. During my ultrasound last month, the technician had pointed at the screen and smiled. “Look, he’s sucking his thumb.” I had seen it. A tiny, blurry hand curled right next to his face. Ethan had been standing right next to me, recording it on his phone and smiling like an idiot. Helen pushed the door open and walked in. She paused at the entrance, her eyes scanning my face before dropping to my flat stomach. Her expression was complex. It looked less like grief and more like she was calculating a financial loss. She walked over, pulled up a chair, and sat down. Her fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the bed. “You’re awake?” “Yeah.” She looked at me, her lips twitching as if she were rehearsing her speech. Then she spoke. “Look what you’ve done. You lost my grandson.” “Eight months. He was only six weeks away. Why did you have to throw a tantrum and cause all this drama?” My lips were dry and cracked. I licked them, tasting the metallic tang of dried blood. “You made me kneel…” “What did you say?” She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a harsh whisper. “What did you say? Who made you kneel? You tripped because you weren’t looking where you were going. Didn’t we already agree on that?” There wasn’t a shred of guilt in her eyes. She genuinely believed her own lie. Or rather, she had successfully rewritten reality in her mind until she believed it. “If you feel wronged, think about what you did,” she said, straightening up and returning to her normal volume. “Who was the one who brought that home-wrecking tramp into our house? Whatever mistake Richard made, the root of the problem lies with you. And now that the baby is gone, how am I supposed to explain this to Ethan?” “Tell him the truth,” I said, staring at her. “Tell Ethan what actually happened.” Her face froze. “What do you want me to tell him? About his father? About you kneeling?” “The truth.” “The truth?” She stood up abruptly, the chair legs screeching against the floor. “If the truth gets out, what happens to Richard’s reputation? What happens to this family? If Ethan finds out his own father did this, do you think he can handle it?” She bent down, her face inches from mine. “What good does it do you to tear this family apart? You’ll end up with nothing. A childless wife with no family background to back you up—how do you expect to compete with me?” There was a light knock on the door. Jessica peeked her head in. “Helen, the herbal broth is warm. Let’s get Chloe to drink some.” Helen stepped back, her angry expression instantly vanishing like a flipped page. “Oh, thank goodness. Look how thoughtful this girl is. Come in, Jessica.” Jessica walked in holding a white porcelain bowl. The warm broth had a few goji berries floating on top. She brought the bowl to my lips, holding the bottom with one hand and supporting the rim with the other. “Chloe, have some. It’s freshly brewed with herbal supplements.” I didn’t move. “Chloe?” “Jessica, about that bag of clothes you brought.” “Huh?” She blinked. “How did you know my father-in-law’s exact sizes?” The bowl froze in mid-air. Jessica’s smile remained, but the corners of her mouth stiffened. Helen cleared her throat loudly from the side. “She was just helping. I called her and told her to grab those clothes from our house. I told her the sizes. Now, stop overthinking and drink your broth.” Jessica’s smile recovered, and she nudged the bowl closer to me. “Chloe, Helen told me to get them. You’re just exhausted and overthinking.” I looked at the broth. A thin layer of oil glistened on the surface. “And how did you get into the house? Whose keys did you use?” Jessica’s fingers tightened around the bowl. Helen’s voice turned incredibly sharp. “Chloe! This girl ran all over town to help you, and you’re interrogating her? Are you going to drink this or not? If not, I’m taking it away.” Jessica placed the bowl on the nightstand. She stepped back, lowering her head as she wiped her hands with a tissue. When she looked up, her eyes were red. “Chloe, I know you’re hurting right now… Nobody wanted this to happen to the baby. If my presence is upsetting you, I’ll just leave.” Her voice carried a perfect, delicate sob. Helen sighed and wrapped an arm around Jessica’s shoulders. “Look at you, Jessica, don’t say that. You’ve been running around helping us for hours. Look at everything on the nightstand—you brought all of it. And here she is, taking out her bitterness on you.” “It’s fine, Helen. Chloe is in pain and emotionally unstable. I understand.” Jessica wiped her eyes and offered me a tearful smile. “Chloe, get some rest. I’ll reheat the broth for you later.” 0

“Ethan’s train gets in in about an hour,” Helen said, looking at her phone. Richard sat in the corner of the room on a plastic chair. He hadn’t moved an inch. From the ambulance to the hospital, from the hallway to this room, he had been like a piece of luggage—placed in a corner, completely silent. Helen whispered in his ear. The room was small, and every single word leaked into my ears. “When Ethan gets here, we tell him she tripped. Hit her stomach on the coffee table. Keep your mouth shut.” “Yeah.” Richard’s first word. Since yesterday, he had spoken exactly one word. “And another thing—not a word about Jessica. She only came to help because I called her. It has nothing to do with anything else. Understood?” “Yeah.” His second word. Helen leaned back in her chair and began scrolling through her phone. After two minutes, she suddenly looked up at me. “If you dare say anything stupid to Ethan later, you better think about the consequences.” “What consequences?” “If word about your father-in-law gets out, how are the Carters supposed to survive in this city? How is Ethan supposed to hold his head up? He finally secured a good position at his firm—do you want him going to work with everyone knowing his father is a cheat?” She placed her phone on her lap, crossing her hands like a boss waiting for a report. “Just make sure you know what’s best for you.” I said nothing. The adjacent bed remained empty, its sheets folded neatly. The entire floor was dead quiet, save for the occasional squeak of a nurse’s cart rolling past. Around two in the afternoon, the door was pushed open. Ethan stood at the entrance. He was still wearing his navy travel jacket, his suitcase gripped tightly in his hand. His collar was half-crumpled, his hair a messy nest, and his face carried the sheer exhaustion of a rushed journey. The moment his eyes landed on me, his eyes turned red. He dropped his suitcase and rushed to my bedside in three quick strides. Kneeling down, he grabbed both of my hands in his. “Chloe.” His hands were shaking violently. “The baby…” “Ethan,” Helen stood up, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t panic. Listen to me first.” “Mom, let me talk to her first.” “Listen to me.” Helen’s grip was incredibly tight, her knuckles turning white. “She wasn’t careful when she was walking around the house yesterday. She tripped and hit her stomach against the corner of the coffee table. Your father and I called 911 immediately. We couldn’t save the baby… but Chloe is going to be fine.” Ethan didn’t turn back to look at his mother. He kept his eyes locked on mine, looking up from his knelt position. “Chloe, how did you fall?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Helen’s gaze was pinned to the side of my face like a dagger. Richard cleared his throat from the corner. “She tripped on her slippers. Your mother and I both saw it.” After saying that, he lowered his head again, as if he had just completed a chore he was forced to do. Ethan looked at his father, then at his mother, and finally turned back to me. “Chloe?” “…Yeah.” I couldn’t say it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. It was because Helen was standing right behind him, her hand still gripping his shoulder, her chin tilted up slightly as she glared down at me. Her eyes were filled with pure threat. She took it for granted that I would cooperate. She took it for granted that I wouldn’t dare speak up. Ethan held my hand, his thumb gently rubbing the back of my palm. “It’s okay, Chloe. As long as you’re safe. We can… we can have another baby in the future.” His voice cracked, and a tear escaped his eye, splashing onto the back of my hand. Soft footsteps sounded at the door. Jessica walked in holding a cup of warm water. Seeing Ethan, she paused. “Ethan? You’re back?” Ethan turned around, surprised. “Jessica? Why are you here?” “I rushed over the moment I heard about Chloe. Helen called me to help out since you guys don’t have many relatives in the city.” She placed the cup on the nightstand and gave Ethan a reassuring smile. It was a perfectly rehearsed, comforting smile. “I brought the change of clothes and toiletries. Your parents have been at the hospital all night. They’re exhausted.” Ethan looked at the thermos and the neatly folded towels on the nightstand. “Thank you, Jessica.” “Don’t mention it. Chloe has always been so good to me. Of course I’d be here.” When she said “our Chloe,” she gently patted my blanket. Ethan didn’t notice anything wrong. How could he? All he saw was his wife’s best friend rushing to help, his parents staying up all night, and everyone gathering around to care for me. “Ethan, you’ve been traveling for hours,” Helen said, taking his suitcase and pushing it into the corner. “Stay with Chloe for a bit. Your father and I are going downstairs to grab a bite. What do you want to eat?” “Anything.” Helen tugged at Richard’s sleeve, and the two of them left the room. Jessica followed them out, stopping at the door. “Ethan, I’ll leave you two to talk. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in the hallway.” The door clicked shut. Only the two of us were left in the room. Ethan pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down, holding my hands. “Chloe, you’ve been through so much.” I looked into his eyes. They were bloodshot and heavy. “Ethan.” “Yeah?” “When you go home… take a look at the living room.” He paused. “What’s wrong with the living room?” “Just go look. You’ll understand.” I had tried to say this yesterday, but the nurse had interrupted us. He stared at my expression, his lips pressing into a tight line. “Okay. I’ll go back tomorrow.” “Go today.” “Today? But Chloe, you…” “Ethan, go back today. Look at the living room.” Helen’s voice suddenly cut in as she pushed the door back open. Her expression was tense. “Look at what living room? There’s nothing to see. Ethan, don’t listen to her. She’s still delirious from the anesthesia.” “I am perfectly sane.” I stared directly at Helen. She held my gaze for three seconds. Then, she smiled. It was a mocking smile, the smile of someone who believed she had won. “Chloe, sweetie, you must be running a fever. You tripped and fell. What is there to see at home? I already cleaned up the blood on the coffee table.” She walked over and patted Ethan’s hand. “Don’t go back. I’ll have a cleaning service tidy up the place tomorrow. Just stay here and keep Chloe company.” She walked to the door, pausing with her back to us. “Oh, by the way, Ethan. The home security camera seems to have disconnected. It hasn’t been working since we changed the router last month. Fix it when you have time.” The door closed. Ethan kept his head down, his thumb rubbing his knee. After a long silence, he stood up. “Chloe, I’m going home.” “Your mother said the camera is disconnected.” He picked up his jacket. “I know. But the cloud storage auto-backs up. Disconnecting from the Wi-Fi doesn’t delete the recorded footage.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Wait for me.” 0

“Ethan, why are you back? Didn’t I tell you not to go home?” Helen’s voice blared through the speaker of Ethan’s phone. He had put her on speakerphone in his car and shared his live location with me after starting a call recording. “Just grabbing a few things.” “What could be so important that you have to grab it today? Your wife is in the hospital. Shouldn’t you be with her?” “I’ll be quick. I’ll head back right after. Mom, where are you?” “I’m at the hospital. Just stepped out to buy some fruit. Why?” “Nothing.” He hung up. I lay in the hospital bed, my phone resting face-up on the pillow. Twelve minutes later, a text from Ethan popped up. [Cloud storage has the recording. Downloading now.] Six minutes passed. [Chloe, the living room footage. I’m watching it.] Then came a long, agonizing silence. The chat screen remained frozen on those words. The “typing…” indicator in the corner flashed, disappeared, and flashed again. It repeated seven or eight times. Finally, a message came through. [How long did you kneel?] I stared at those words, my lips dry and cracked. [Twenty minutes.] The other side went silent again. This time, the silence lasted so long I thought he wouldn’t reply. Then, my phone vibrated. It wasn’t a text. It was a call. I answered. There was no sound on the other end. No, there was—a faint, choked breath, as if something was blocking his throat. “Ethan.” “…I saw it.” His voice was hoarse. It wasn’t the hoarseness of exhaustion; it was the sound of someone completely broken from the inside. “You knelt for twenty minutes. My mother slapped you. You were bleeding. And my father just sat there on the sofa.” He paused, his breath hitching. “And at the end… they watched you drag yourself to the door. After you left, they looked at each other.” “And then?” “They smiled.” When he spoke that word, his voice cracked violently. “They smiled. Your dress was covered in blood, you were leaning against the wall to walk, and they just sat on the sofa, looked at each other, and smiled.” A loud crashing sound echoed through the phone, like a fist slamming hard against a steering wheel. Then came his voice again. It was no longer hoarse, but terrifyingly clear. “Chloe, why didn’t you tell me?” “Do you think I had a single chance to speak?” He fell silent. “When you got to the hospital, your mother kept her hand on your shoulder. Your father sat in the corner, playing his part. Jessica was standing at the door with herbal broth, waiting for her cue. When was I supposed to tell you?” “Jessica—” “Ethan, Jessica knows your father’s underwear size. She brought him a change of clothes, and the nurse thought she was a family member. Go check that bag of clothes. Are his personal items in there?” Silence stretched over the line. Fifteen seconds later. “I checked.” His voice had completely changed, cold as steel. “There’s an undershirt, boxers, and a can of shaving cream. The brand is—” “Gillette, menthol. The exact brand your father has used for over a decade. Jessica has only known your father for three months, yet she knows that.” “Three months?” “On my birthday in May, I invited her over for dinner. Your father poured her drinks three times. The very next week, she came over when I wasn’t home, claiming she wanted to borrow a book. I wasn’t there.” “You weren’t there… Who opened the door?” “Take a guess.” The phone went dead silent. I could hear his heavy, ragged breathing, like a man who had been underwater for too long and finally surfaced. “I’m coming back to the hospital.” “What do you plan to do when you get back?” “I don’t know. But I won’t let you suffer another second of this.” “Ethan.” “Yeah?” “Did you export the security footage?” “Yes. One copy on my phone, one on a flash drive.” “Don’t delete it.” “I won’t.” “There’s one more thing.” “Tell me.” “Isn’t there a family dinner this Sunday? The one where your uncles and aunts are all coming?” “…Yes.” “Bring the flash drive.” Silence for three seconds. “Chloe, are you sure?” “I knelt for twenty minutes, bled through my dress, and lost my baby. Do you think I have any doubts left?” He took a deep breath. “Alright.” 0

“Chloe, are you feeling any better today?” When Ethan walked in carrying a bowl of oatmeal, Helen had already been sitting in the room for half an hour. During that time, she had gone on three separate rants, always circling back to the same point. “It’s such a shame to lose a baby at eight months. It was a boy, too. We saw it on the ultrasound.” “How could you be so careless while walking? That coffee table has been in the living room for three years. You walked past it every day. Why did you have to trip that day?” “Ethan, you have no idea. Your father and I were terrified when we saw how much she was bleeding. Your father’s hands are still shaking.” Richard was indeed shaking. He sat on the chair by the window, his right hand resting on the armrest, his fingers trembling slightly. Ethan placed the oatmeal on the overbed table and sat at my bedside. “Mom, stop. Chloe needs to rest.” “Stop? How can I stop? That was my grandson!” Helen’s voice rose a octave, her eyes welling with tears. Her greatest talent in life was crying. At any moment, she could turn her eyes red and instantly claim the moral high ground. “Ethan, you only care about your wife. But who cares about me? I waited three years for this grandson, and now he’s just gone.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, her voice cracked with emotion. “I’m not blaming Chloe. But if the baby were still here, wouldn’t we be setting up the nursery right now?” Ethan didn’t reply. “Mom, stop crying. We can try again later.” “Try again? Easy for you to say. Chloe suffered severe trauma this time. Who knows if she can even get pregnant again.” She crumpled the tissue into a ball, threw it on the nightstand, and glared at me. “Chloe, I’m not trying to pick on you, but you must watch your step in the future.” “Helen is right.” Jessica appeared at the door once again. She was holding a brown paper bag stamped with the logo of a local herbal pharmacy. “I went to grab some herbal supplements to help Chloe recover her strength.” She walked in, placed the bag on the table, and checked my IV drip. “It’s almost empty. I’ll go get the nurse.” She turned and left. Ethan let out a heavy sigh. “Jessica is really a great friend. She’s been running around for us these past two days.” “Exactly,” Helen chimed in. “She put her own life on hold to help us, and your wife had the audacity to interrogate her yesterday.” Ethan looked at me. “Chloe? What happened?” I didn’t bother explaining. Helen “explained” for me. “She asked Jessica how she knew her father-in-law’s sizes. Jessica ran all over town to help, and Chloe practically treated her like a criminal.” Ethan’s brows furrowed. “Chloe, Jessica was just trying to help…” “Ethan.” “Yeah?” “When are you going home?” He blinked, confused. “Home? To grab what?” “Just go back once, and you’ll see.” I had said this yesterday before the nurse interrupted. He stared at my face, his lips tightening. “Fine. I’ll go back tomorrow.” “Go today.” “Today? But Chloe…” “Ethan, go today. Look at the living room.” Helen’s face paled. “What is there to see in the living room? There’s nothing there. Ethan, don’t listen to her. She’s completely out of it.” “I am perfectly clear-headed.” I looked directly at Helen. She held my gaze for three seconds. Then, she smiled. It was her signature condescending smile, confident that she had me trapped. “Chloe, dear, you must be delirious. You tripped and fell. What is there to see at home? I already cleaned up the blood on the coffee table.” She stood up and patted Ethan’s hand. “Don’t go. I’ll have the house cleaned tomorrow. Just stay here with Chloe.” She walked to the door, pausing with her back to us. “Oh, by the way, Ethan. The security camera seems to have disconnected. It hasn’t worked since we changed routers last month. Fix it when you have a chance.” The door closed. Ethan stared down, rubbing his hands together. After a dozen seconds, he stood up. “Chloe, I’m going home.” “Your mother said the camera is disconnected.” He grabbed his jacket. “I know. But the cloud storage backs up automatically. Disconnecting from the Wi-Fi doesn’t stop the playback.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Wait for me.”

Three years ago, I was poisoned with feral wolf venom. I went from being the prodigy of the werewolf world to a useless, wolf-less weakling. Six months ago, my fiancé, Damian Frostmane, sent a messenger to deliver a formal betrothal rejection letter. Before I could even process it, the news of our broken engagement spread like wildfire across the entire Northern Pack Coalition’s Snapchat groups. The rejection letter contained only four words: [Unfit to Pair.] Immediately after, a photo of me bloated from the venom was leaked online. In the picture, I was wearing a loose, oversized hospital gown. I looked so swollen that my original features were completely unrecognizable. The entire Northern Coalition was in an uproar. “This is the heir of the prestigious Blackwood Pack?” “She’s hideously fat. It’s obvious her inner wolf is dead. Damian was right to dump her.” Soon, someone set up a betting pool in the preparation chat for this year’s Lunar Gala. They were wagering on whether I would dare to show my face at the event. Damian personally bet fifty thousand dollars that I wouldn’t show up. Looking at the flood of mocking messages, I smiled. No one knew that my inner wolf had finally woken up. I quietly placed a hundred-thousand-dollar bet on myself, wagering that I would arrive at the Lunar Gala ballroom right on time. Then, ignoring the endless mockery online, I sent a simple text to my dad. “I’m coming home.”

I stared at the betrothal rejection letter for ten agonizing seconds. [Unfit to Pair.] The screenshot was being forwarded everywhere in the Northern Coalition’s chat groups. “Damian made the right call by dumping her.” “Seriously. Shaking off a broken Alpha heir is a total win.” “I heard Kira is so fat now she can’t even shift. Her power level is literally zero.” Right after that, a photo was leaked. It was taken six months after I was poisoned. Back then, I weighed 180 pounds. My hospital gown was stretched to its limits as I sat on the clinic bed, staring blankly down at a half-eaten sandwich. The person who leaked the photo was Jax, Damian’s personal guard. Three years ago, that same guard had stood respectfully in my family’s living room when Damian came to propose. “Kira, as soon as you come of age, we will officially merge our packs,” Damian had said back then. “An alliance between the Frostmane Pack and the Blackwood Pack will secure the entire North.” I hadn’t replied at the time. But now, the gossip in the Blackwood Pack was vicious. “Oh my god, look at her. She’ll never shift again with that body.” “An Alpha heir? She’s weaker than an omega right now.” “We should strip the Blackwood Pack of their invitation. She’s going to embarrass the entire North.” Damian even released a public statement on his Instagram story, sighing. “I was put in a very difficult position. But everyone can see the current state of the Blackwood Pack.” It sounded like a helpless sigh, but it was a calculated move to stamp my dignity into the dirt. My fingers turned ice-cold. We had been engaged for two years. When he was injured during training, I climbed dangerous, snow-covered peaks overnight to harvest medicinal herbs for him. When his pack faced an internal rebellion, I begged my dad to use the Blackwood Pack’s influence to stabilize his position. When his father was on his deathbed, I stayed by the old Alpha’s side, nursing him for an entire week. Even when my wolf fell into a deep coma, I didn’t resent him. Because he had held my hand and promised: “Kira, no matter what happens, I will always stand by you.” “When the Lunar Gala comes, we will announce our wedding date to the world.” Yet, before the Lunar Gala even began, he delivered a rejection letter. A betting pool quickly went live in the Coalition’s Snapchat group. [Will Kira Blackwood attend this year’s Lunar Gala?] The odds against me kept climbing. The amount of money betting on me cowardly staying home exceeded one hundred thousand dollars. Damian directly placed a fifty-thousand-dollar bet on “No.” “There’s no way she’ll show up,” he commented. “In her current state, coming would only mean public humiliation.” I finally let out a cold laugh. So, he knew I would be humiliated. Yet, he was still eager to watch me suffer in front of the entire werewolf high society. Just then, Serena Winslow chimed in on the group chat. “Guys, please don’t talk about Kira like that. It’s not her fault her body changed.” She was the daughter of the Alpha of the Winslow Pack, the second-largest pack in the North. Just two days ago, she had posted photos of herself horseback riding on Instagram—blonde hair, a flowing red dress, with a comment section full of worshipers calling her the “Goddess of the North.” She publicly tagged my dad in the group chat. “Will Kira be attending this year? I’m just asking because I care.” It looked like genuine concern. But she immediately followed it up with another message. “Actually, maybe it’s better if she stays home. It would save everyone from a very awkward situation.” The group chat flooded with praise. “Serena is always so thoughtful and sweet.” I didn’t bother replying. Instead, I opened my laptop and booked a flight. Seattle to Anchorage. I was going to be there. On time. When the news reached the Blackwood Pack, everyone was stunned. Damian sent a furious message to my dad. “Is she insane?” “The people at the Lunar Gala won’t show her any mercy.” I stood up and looked at myself in the full-length mirror. My long dark hair fell over my shoulders, and my waist was now so small that a man could easily wrap his hands around it. The facial features that had been bloated by the venom had fully sharpened as the poison left my system. My face was now strikingly gorgeous, almost dangerously beautiful. More importantly, my inner wolf had awakened, and my power had restored to its peak Alpha level. Over the past two months, as the last traces of the venom cleared, I had been stopped on the streets of Seattle by random guys trying to get my Snapchat more times than I could count. Someone had even taken a candid photo of me in a coffee shop and posted it on TikTok with the caption: “Who is this literal goddess?” Damian knew none of this. Because I had wanted to save the surprise of my recovery for the night of the Lunar Gala. But now? He didn’t deserve that surprise. I wiped away the single stray tear from the corner of my eye and texted my dad. “I’m coming home.”

A second later, Damian’s name flashed on my screen. He was calling. I ignored it. He called three times in a row before finally sending a barrage of voice notes on Snapchat. “Kira, can you stop throwing a tantrum?” “Things are already bad enough. Your current physical state is not fit for the Lunar Gala.” “We are both noble packs. Don’t make things difficult for the Blackwood Pack.” I was so angry I laughed out loud. He threw me away like garbage, and now he was blaming me for ruining his reputation. I opened the digital brochure for the Lunar Gala schedule. The public ceremony consisted of three parts. First, the heirs would toast the Ancestral Flame. Second, the heirs of each pack would walk arm-in-arm down the grand ballroom. Third, the heirs would together light the Sacred Beacon. In the group chat, pack members were already mockingly praying for Ellis Crow. “Who designed the third part? Kira is lighting the beacon?” “She can’t even shift. How is she going to summon her wolf flame to light it?” “It’s fine. It’s just another chance for the Blackwoods to make fools of themselves.” The man they were talking about, Ellis Crow, hadn’t said a single word in the chat. His background was a complete mystery; no one could track his whereabouts. Yet, the entire Northern Coalition seemed terrified of him. They were vicious when mocking me, but whenever Ellis’s name was brought up, they only dared to whisper in private. No one dared to challenge him to his face. Just as I was about to close my laptop, my best friend Maggie FaceTimed me. The second the call connected, she screamed. “Kira! Has that asshole Damian lost his mind?!” “He breaks the engagement and then drags you through the mud? What a manipulative piece of trash!” I blinked, startled. “How do you know already?” “It’s literally all over the pack Snapchat groups!” Maggie paced back and forth in front of her camera, fuming. “I’ve already memorized the name of the guard who leaked that photo. When we get to the Lunar Gala, I’ll throw a sack over his head, and you can keep watch while I beat him up.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. Seeing that I could still smile made her even more protective. “What’s the plan? Are you going to post a current selfie and slap them all in the face?” “No.” “Why not?” I opened my closet and let my eyes slide over the gowns hanging inside. “A photo is too easy to dismiss.” Photoshop, filters, old pictures—if they didn’t want to believe it, they would find a hundred excuses. I wanted them to see me in person. I wanted them to regret it in real-time. Maggie’s eyes lit up as she realized what I meant. “You’re actually going?” “Of course. My flight is booked.” “Hell yes!” She slammed her hand on her desk. “Not only are you going, but you are going to look so drop-dead gorgeous that they’ll collectively choke on their own spit.” “Damian bet fifty thousand that you wouldn’t show? Let’s take his money and ruin his pride.” Just as she said that, a knock sounded on my door. My mom, the Luna of the Blackwood Pack, walked in carrying a plate of sliced fruit. She froze when she saw the gown laid out on my bed. “The Lunar Gala is tomorrow?” “Yeah.” She hesitated for a few seconds before asking softly, “Are you… going to see Damian?” I went quiet. To heal and reclaim my place in the Blackwood Pack, I had endured two years of grueling, agonizing treatment. Especially during the last three months of intense detox, the venom would claw through my veins, leaving me curled up in bed, shaking and biting on a towel to keep from screaming in pain. From 180 pounds. To 150 pounds. To 120 pounds. And finally, to a lean, toned 110 pounds. My mom had helped me adjust my dress sizes seven times. She had watched me stand on the scale countless times, my eyes red but refusing to cry. She knew how much I had looked forward to this night. But she didn’t know that my hope had already rotted away. My mom set the fruit plate down. Before leaving, she gently stroked my hair. “Kira, no matter what anyone else says, whether you can shift or not, you are my daughter, and I love you.” The moment the door closed, a wave of emotion hit me, making my nose sting. Just then, my phone buzzed. In the encrypted Snapchat group, Ellis Crow had finally posted a message. He didn’t address any of the gossip. He only sent one short sentence: “She is not a reject.” The group chat instantly went dead silent. A few seconds later, a private notification popped up. It was a DM from Ellis. “If you don’t want to go tomorrow, you don’t have to.” Damian immediately jumped into the main chat. “Ellis, this is private business between the Frostmane and Blackwood packs. Stay out of it.” Ellis didn’t reply to him. I stared at the words *“She is not a reject”* and, for the first time, looked up his profile. The new Alpha of the Shadowcrest Pack. For some reason… This man felt strangely familiar.

I had met Damian at a Northern Coalition summit. I was sixteen then, a year into being poisoned, weighing 180 pounds, and my dormant wolf was nowhere to be found. The teenagers in the Blackwood Pack called me “the broken wolf.” They whispered that my early shifting at age fourteen was just a fluke. The elders didn’t say it to my face, but they would lower their voices and sigh whenever I walked past at family gatherings. Once, during a pack trial run, I finished dead last, panting so hard I almost fainted. The boy I had a crush on back then, Tyler, stood at the finish line and stepped back in disgust. “Don’t lean on me,” he sneered. “You can’t even shift. Who’s going to catch you if you fall?” Everyone laughed. That night, I locked myself in my room, refusing to speak to anyone. Damian was the one who added me on Snapchat that night. Having heard about my situation, he sent me several encouraging messages. “Your voice is so beautiful. You don’t sound like someone who’s sick at all.” After that, we stayed in touch. Whenever other wolves mocked me, he would publicly defend me. “Being poisoned isn’t her fault. Why are you guys taking your anger out on a girl?” He was always there to comfort me when I was down. “Who says you have to shift to be amazing? I think you’re adorable just the way you are.” “Kira, no matter what you look like, I will always be on your side.” I believed him. Because of his words, I felt, for the first time, that I was worthy of being loved. Until eight months ago, when my healer informed him that my wolf might never wake up. After that day, he became noticeably cold. Our daily conversations dwindled to polite, distant greetings. When I asked him what was wrong, he claimed he was under intense pressure from the Frostmane elders. Now I realized it was all a lie. He had simply confirmed that I was a lost cause. But he didn’t break off the engagement right away. Because the Blackwood Pack still held immense power in the North, and my dad was still helping him secure his position. He couldn’t bear to lose a useful pawn. So, he waited until the eve of the Lunar Gala, using a cold rejection letter to cast me aside once he no longer needed us. My phone rang again. This time, I picked up. Damian’s voice was filled with impatience. “What are you doing, playing damsel in distress with Ellis in the group chat?” “He simply said a word of truth. How is that playing damsel?” “Why would a guy like Ellis defend a broken Alpha heir for no reason?” Damian sneered. “Don’t think your pretty voice will make him act like a hero. Ellis doesn’t even care about his own pack’s affairs. You’re just making a fool of yourself.” I remained quiet for two seconds. “So, you think I’m not good enough for you?” “That’s not what I said.” “Then why did you bet fifty thousand dollars that I wouldn’t dare to show up?” He choked on his words. After a long pause, he sighed in irritation. “Fine. You want the truth? I know your actual condition, Kira.” “Engagement is one thing, but reality is another.” “Don’t blame me. What Alpha would marry a mate who can’t even shift?” “I didn’t make the official reason public. I was trying to save you some dignity.” I gripped my phone, the remaining warmth in my heart finally turning to ice. “Then thank you so much for being such a gentleman.” Damian didn’t catch my sarcasm and softened his tone. “Don’t come tomorrow. I’ll refund your plane ticket.” “Serena will be there. Standing next to her will only make you look worse.” I asked slowly, “Are you and Serena close?” There was a sudden silence on the other end. “Don’t overthink it. There’s nothing between us.” I smiled. It looked like tomorrow’s Lunar Gala was going to be much more entertaining than I thought.

On the day of the Lunar Gala, I slept until noon. My phone was flooded with over ninety-nine unread notifications. The Northern Coalition chat was busy discussing the seating arrangements for tonight. Someone had maliciously posted a photo of an extra-wide armchair. “We should save this seat for Kira. A normal chair might not hold her.” “So thoughtful! You deserve an award for pack hospitality.” Damian was also active in the chat. “She’s not coming. Stop wasting your time.” Serena chimed in, “Guys, what if Kira actually shows up? Promise me you won’t laugh at her.” But the more she “defended” me, the louder the mockery became. I ignored it all, got out of bed, and got ready. Maggie burst through my front door at two in the afternoon, lugging two massive makeup cases. “Today, I am going to give you a look that will literally end lives!” After curling my hair into soft waves, she pulled a stunning black silk gown from my closet. The dress was minimalist, hugging my waist perfectly and showing off my delicate collarbones and shoulders. When I stepped out of the bathroom, Maggie froze for a full thirty seconds. Then, she clutched her chest. “Oh my god.” “What?” “If I were an Alpha, I would literally start a pack war to claim you tonight.” I laughed at her drama. She spun me around, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Serena is the classic girl-next-door type. She looks cute on her own.” “But standing next to you? She’s going to look like a cheap bridesmaid handing out party favors.” “Be nice, Maggie.” “I’m just stating facts.” At five in the evening, someone posted a live video clip of the Gala venue. In the center of the ballroom stood a massive ice sculpture. Carved into it were the words: [Welcome the Blackwood Heir.] The sound of mocking laughter echoed in the background of the video. A young Alpha shouted at the camera, “Kira! If you don’t show up soon, we’ll have to do your ceremony for you!” Damian was sitting at the VIP table. He glanced at the camera and smirked. “I told you, she’s a coward.” “She wouldn’t even turn on her camera for FaceTime. Did you really think she’d show up in person?” Serena nudged his shoulder playfully. “Don’t be mean, Damian.” I swiped the video closed. Maggie snatched her car keys, her face flushed with anger. “Let’s go. If I don’t slap the smugness off their faces tonight, my name isn’t Maggie.” As we walked out the door, my phone buzzed with an encrypted message. The sender was just two letters: *E.C.* Ellis Crow. The moment I accepted his contact request, he messaged me. “I’m sorry. This mess started because of my past mission. I will handle it.” “Do you need me to pick you up from the airport?” Reading his apology, I felt a sudden warmth toward him. “No need, I’m already on my way.” “And about the ceremony tonight—I will cooperate.” The status indicator showed he was typing for a long time. But in the end, he only sent: “Don’t force yourself.” Half an hour later, our car pulled up in front of the luxury hotel in Anchorage hosting the Lunar Gala. Maggie was about to walk in with me when her phone rang with an urgent call from her pack elders. Before leaving, she gripped my hand tightly. “Call me the second you need anything. If anyone dares to disrespect you, I will personally drag them onto the Coalition’s Wall of Shame.” I nodded and stepped out of the car. As I walked through the hotel lobby, the receptionist stared at me, completely starstruck. Even as the elevator doors closed, his eyes were still glued to me. The grand ballroom was at the very end of the third floor. Walking down the hallway in my heels, I could hear the loud chatter and laughter echoing through the heavy wooden doors. “It’s six o’clock. She’s definitely a no-show.” “Damian’s fifty grand is locked in.” “I told you, with her physical state, she’d need an oxygen tank just to survive the flight to Anchorage.” “Ellis isn’t here either. Did he run away too?” Then came Damian’s arrogant voice. “I warned her not to come.” “Living under her family’s protection is one thing, but coming here? She’d only make a fool of herself.” Serena giggled. “Kira probably didn’t mean to stay away. She probably just wanted to prove herself.” Another round of roaring laughter erupted. I stood outside the door and slowly raised my hand. Just then, a deep, resonant voice sounded from behind me. “Kira Blackwood?” I turned around. Under the soft hallway lights stood a tall, broad-shouldered man in a flawless black suit. His features were sharp and strikingly handsome. When his eyes landed on me, a look of pure shock crossed his face. “Are you…” I offered him a soft smile. “Ellis Crow?” Inside the ballroom, the crowd had begun a dramatic countdown. “Last ten seconds! If she’s not here, the bet is closed!” “Ten!” “Nine!” “Eight!” Ellis was still staring at me, spellbound. I turned back to the heavy doors and gripped the handle. Right before the countdown hit zero, I pushed the doors open.

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At the Full Moon Gathering, rumors spread that I was about to become the mate of James, the future Alpha of the Stoneback Pack. When the rumors reached James’s ears, he walked straight up to me. He looked down at me, his eyes cold and filled with utter contempt. “Your tricks are pathetic, Emily. You only showed up tonight to get my attention, didn’t you? Let me make this clear: no matter what you do, I will never be with you.” I didn’t argue. I simply requested a three-month leave from the Alpha. The day I returned, Luna Patricia called me to the Pack House to discuss some matters. “Emily, James announced he’s holding his mating ceremony next month. You’ve always been so capable. Could you help organize the event?” I froze in the middle of the living room, the teacup trembling slightly in my hand. My mother, Sarah, looked at me in surprise. “Are you two finally together? I always thought you two were a perfect match.” The atmosphere instantly turned incredibly tense. James’s face darkened to an extreme. “Emily, is it fun spreading these rumors? Let me tell you, even if you lie and say you’re carrying my pup, I still won’t marry you!” Both of our mothers gasped. Luna Patricia quickly apologized, slapping James’s arm. “What nonsense are you talking, James? Emily is a good, decent girl. Stop acting like a fool!” I took a sip of my tea and spoke up calmly. “It’s fine, Patricia. But I’m afraid I can’t help with the ceremony. I’m also getting married next month.” I offered them a polite, bright smile. “Don’t worry, the groom isn’t James.”

My words hit the room like a bomb. James slammed his foot against the coffee table, kicking it over. He gritted his teeth, glaring at me. “Is this some kind of sick joke, Emily? Do you think this is funny?” Ignoring his fury, I poured myself a glass of warm water and sat down on the sofa, completely unfazed. I looked at his raging expression and said, “I’m not joking. I am getting married, and the groom is definitely not you.” I let out a polite, apologetic laugh. “We just finalized the date a few days ago, so I hadn’t had the chance to tell you all yet. I’m sorry, Patricia. You’ll have to find someone else to plan the ceremony.” I lowered my head, took another sip of water, and turned to my mother. “Sarah, I wanted you to come with me today so I could let you know. I’ll handle the wedding arrangements myself.” The silence in the room was suffocating. My mother’s eyes welled with tears, and she was too shocked to speak. Luna Patricia, sensing the heavy tension, quickly dragged James out of the room. Before leaving, James shot me a dark, menacing look. “Even if this is true, I will never approve of it.” The moment they left, my mother slammed her hand on the table. “Emily! I know you have feelings for James, but just because he’s getting mated doesn’t mean you should throw your life away in spite! You’ve never even mentioned having a boyfriend. How on earth do you suddenly have a fiancé?” I looked at her, my voice incredibly peaceful. “Ethan proposed to me, Mom. And I said yes.” She froze, completely speechless for a long moment. “Ethan? Which Ethan?” “The Ethan from the Academy. The Alpha heir of the Ridgefield Pack. He went back to take over his pack after graduation, but we stayed in touch. And… we discovered we are fated mates.” My mother opened her mouth, closed it, and finally let out a long, helpless sigh. “I’m not against you finding love, Emily. But you never told me you were seeing anyone. I thought you only had eyes for James… and now you’re suddenly getting married?” I stood up and set my glass down. As she tried to protest further, I smiled gently. “He’s a good man, Mom. He’s serious about me.” She followed me to the door, her face full of worry. “Of course he’s serious. You’re fated mates. But he’s the Alpha of the Ridgefield Pack. If you marry him, you’ll have to leave the Stoneback Pack. Have you spoken to our Alpha about this? Does he know you’re leaving?” My mind drifted back to the moment Ethan proposed to me. A genuine smile tugged at my lips. The pull of a fated mate never lies. He was going to be an amazing partner. The moment I accepted his proposal, he immediately began planning the wedding, making sure every single detail was perfect for me. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve already spoken to the Alpha. He won’t stand in the way of a fated mate bond. Besides, with modern transport, I won’t be that far from you. I’m heading to the training grounds now.” I packed my things and walked out. Passing by James’s private villa, I remembered I still had some belongings left there. I pushed the door open, only to find the door to my old room wide open. It was completely empty. All of my belongings had been packed into cardboard boxes and shoved into a dusty corner of the hallway. I saw the handmade scarf I had knitted for him to keep him warm during the harsh winter. I saw the pack-blessed protection amulet I had walked miles to get for his safety. I saw the first-aid kit I had painstakingly prepared with supplies from the clinic, fearing he would get hurt during training. All those little things, representing years of my devotion and care, were piled up like trash. If the person didn’t matter to him, then her efforts were nothing but garbage. Through the half-open door, I saw a brand-new vanity table in the room. It had an elegant carved wooden mirror, luxury perfumes, and the bedsheets had been changed to a soft, romantic pastel color. I remembered when I had tried to put a simple throw pillow in his room, and he had thrown it out immediately. *”If you clutter my room with your trash, people will think this is your bedroom, Emily. Keep your place.”*

My eyes stung. I knew this was just the reality of a fated mate bond. I was just a Beta’s daughter; I had to make way for his true mate. But it still hurt to see our years of friendship trampled so easily. I bent down, picked up all my old belongings, and threw them straight into the outdoor trash bin. Then, I turned and walked away. Just as I stepped out of the villa, my best friend Catherine called, sounding frantic. “Emily! That bastard James is getting mated!” The news was spreading like wildfire on the Stoneback Pack’s private Snapchat groups. I wasn’t surprised she had already seen it. Hearing it again, I felt completely calm. “Yeah. I just found out too.” “Have you seen his Instagram? We’re all losing our minds! He never posts anything, and suddenly he uploaded a whole album of photos! We all thought the bride was going to be you! But it’s…” I didn’t want to hear it. I cut her off. “Do you want to hear something even more shocking?” Catherine gasped. “What?” A soft smile warmed my face. “I’m getting married next month. And you’re going to be my maid of honor.” “WHAT?!” “I’m serious. Next month.” I sent her a photo of Ethan. She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “Oh my god, Emily! I thought you were going to waste your whole life chasing after James. I was literally calling to tell you to move on, but look at you! You’re getting married! This is amazing!” “Tell me everything! Who is he?” “I’ll keep it a secret for a few more days,” I said playfully. “Once he finishes up his pack duties at Ridgefield and comes back, you’ll be the first to meet him. I’ll be moving to his pack soon after, so we won’t see each other as often.” She promised to help with all the preparations before we hung up. As I sat down by the training grounds, Catherine posted a quick update on Snapchat: *[Thank god! My bestie Emily is getting married, and I’m the maid of honor!]* I was about to text her to keep it low-key. But the next second, James, who had been completely silent, left a comment: *[? You’re getting married? To who?]* Catherine immediately clapped back: *[Single people shouldn’t worry about those of us who are happily taken!]* Seeing her response instantly lifted the weight in my chest. I hummed a tune and spent a peaceful afternoon organizing the training schedules. Later, I took a picture of the gorgeous diamond engagement ring Ethan had given me and posted it on my Instagram story. *[It feels so good to be cherished.]* For the first time in his life, James replied to my story: *[You’ve lost your mind.]* In his eyes, my happiness had nothing to do with me. It was always just a ploy to get to him. I didn’t reply. When training ended, a familiar black SUV pulled up right in front of me. James rolled down the window, looking incredibly annoyed. “Get in.” I stood my ground. “I have plans.” “I wasn’t asking, Emily. Get in.” Sighing, I quickly texted my ride telling them not to pick me up. I habitually walked toward the passenger side, but after catching his cold glare, I quietly opened the back door and sat in the rear. James slammed on the gas, driving so fast the wind whipped violently against my face through the cracked window. At a red light, he habitually pulled out a cigarette, caught my reflection in the mirror, and threw it away in frustration. “You can’t get married, Emily. I don’t care who you slept with that night, but this marriage is not happening.” I clenched my fists, a sharp pang hitting my chest. “I already told you, James. The groom isn’t you. You have no right to interfere.” James cursed under his breath and slammed his hand on the steering wheel, honking the horn loudly. “Stop acting! I know you, Emily. You don’t have the kind of charm that would make any decent Alpha want to marry you.” He looked at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes dripping with mockery. The window reflected my pale face. I didn’t argue with him. Since we were kids, James had been the golden boy of the Stoneback Pack. He was tall, handsome, and excelled in every single combat trial. The Omegas and Betas chasing him could line up from his front door to the pack borders. Even my breakfasts were constantly bought by his secret admirers. Because I was plain-looking, those girls assumed I was no threat to them. When I first started passing their love letters to him, James had looked at me in shock. *”Hey, why are you giving me this? I don’t like you, Emily. Don’t get any ideas.”*

I had replied honestly: “They aren’t from me. Other girls asked me to hand them over.” “Good.” He had let out a sigh of relief. “Let’s make one thing clear. Don’t ever catch feelings for me. In my eyes, you’re just a Beta’s daughter, and you’ll be my future Beta assistant.” I had felt a dull ache in my heart, but I quietly accepted my role. When he was twelve, he collapsed from exhaustion during his first endurance trial. As his caretaker, I rushed to hand him water. He had smiled and said, *”You’re the only reliable one, Emily.”* That was the first time my heart had skipped a beat for him. That was when I realized my feelings had crossed the line. But I knew a Beta’s daughter had no right to dream of mating with the future Alpha. He didn’t love me. I started caring about my appearance at pack gatherings, clumsily trying to put on makeup. He had glanced at me and said coldly, *”It doesn’t suit you.”* Later, the Ridgefield Pack invited me to join them as a senior Beta, but I turned them down just to stay by his side. At sixteen, during a campfire game, people kept teasing us. I had gathered my courage and jokingly said, “I like you, James.” He had instantly frowned and snapped, *”Don’t make jokes like that.”* The final straw was the Full Moon Gathering three months ago. The Alpha heirs from all the neighboring packs had gathered, supposedly to find their fated mates, but realistically it was an alliance-building event. James had asked if I was going. I told him I wasn’t sure. He assumed I was going there to chase him. But that night, I was actually on a date with Ethan. We had met back at the Academy, and running into each other again made us realize the Moon Goddess had blessed us as fated mates. But someone had spotted me at the gathering, and by the next morning, rumors were everywhere claiming I was trying to force myself on James. James was convinced I had started those rumors myself. A sudden screech of brakes pulled me back to reality. The car had stopped in an empty lot near the pack border. I took a deep breath, deciding to finally tell him the truth about that night. “James, about that night at the Full Moon Gathering…” Before I could finish, he threw his door open and rushed out without looking back. “Grace, don’t worry! I’m coming right now. Just wait for me!” He walked away with absolute urgency, leaving me entirely alone in the cold car. That was the first time I heard the name Grace. She was his fated mate. I sat there and waited until the sky turned pitch black, realizing he was never coming back. Why would the pull of a fated mate ever care about a plain Beta’s feelings? I wanted to call Catherine. But I was terrified James would accuse me of making a scene and upsetting his precious mate. In the end, I pushed the door open and walked all the way back home on foot. *** A few days later, I ran into Grace at the pack diner. She walked over with her tray, offering me a sweet smile. “I heard you’re James’s childhood friend. I think we crossed paths years ago.” I smiled politely and invited her to sit down. She noticed the sparkling ring on my finger and gasped. “Oh! You’re engaged? Congratulations!” Before I could speak, James walked over out of nowhere and quickly intervened. “She made that decision on her own. It has nothing to do with me.” He quickly added, “I only drove her home the other day out of courtesy.” Luna Patricia, who was walking behind him, chimed in. “Yes, indeed! Our James is just naturally helpful. Don’t overthink it, Grace.” Grace glanced at him but remained silent. I remembered when they first met. I had been helping James train on the field, and he was complaining that I wasn’t retrieving the weights fast enough. While picking up the gear, he had spotted Grace practicing her violin under a maple tree. James had frozen. He later told me that was the exact moment he felt the fated mate bond snap into place. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Even though Grace went abroad to study shortly after, the bond never faded. The moment she returned, they immediately got together. No wonder James was so eager to settle down and get engaged. Within a few days, the news of my upcoming marriage spread throughout the entire Stoneback Pack. Some of our old classmates organized a party. “Emily is getting married, and James is getting mated to his fated mate. Two major celebrations! We absolutely have to celebrate!”

I didn’t say yes or no, knowing they just wanted to watch the drama unfold. Catherine wanted to decline on my behalf, but I stopped her. “It’s just a party. It’ll be nice to see some old faces.” Worried about me, Catherine stayed glued to my side the moment we entered the venue. People I barely recognized kept glancing between me and James. We used to be inseparable. Now, we stood on opposite sides of the room, worlds apart. James held Grace like she was a priceless treasure, basking in everyone’s envious stares. Ignoring them, I focused on eating the fresh fruit platter. Seeing that they couldn’t get a reaction out of me, the onlookers slowly dispersed. As everyone started reminiscing about the old days, they began counting who was missing. Someone suddenly remembered. “Wait, isn’t there one more person coming? I think he’s on his way. What was his name again?” “Oh, Ethan! The Alpha heir of the Ridgefield Pack. I remember that guy actually confessed to Emily back at the Academy! She rejected him, and he supposedly went home and cried his eyes out!” Someone laughed and turned to me. “He was pretty brave to shoot his shot with you, Emily. But he went back to his own pack after graduation, and we haven’t seen him since.” The room erupted into laughter. I kept quiet. James, however, frowned. “Is it really funny to tease someone who’s about to get married?” He glared at the speaker. “Besides, Emily has nothing to do with him. She’s currently…” He trailed off, but the look he sent me was filled with a strange, sudden guilt. I shrugged, completely unbothered. “Since you’re all so curious about my fiancé, he should be here any minute.” Before anyone could process my words, the double doors of the lounge swung open. An incredibly handsome, elegant man walked in, his eyes locked onto mine with pure warmth. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.” The glass in James’s hand shattered, falling straight to the floor. Ethan carried himself with the natural authority of a powerful Alpha as he politely greeted everyone. I pulled out the chair next to me. “Sit down.” Before anyone could say a word, I turned to Catherine. “As promised, you’re the first to meet him. Catherine, this is my fiancé, Ethan.” Catherine’s eyes went wide, and she stammered, “Wait… the chubby kid from the Academy? How did you get so hot?!” “And when did you two even start dating? How did this happen so fast?” I smiled and explained. “He’s the Alpha of the Ridgefield Pack. We reconnected after graduation and realized we are fated mates. Our Alpha has already approved my transfer. I’ll be moving to Ridgefield right after the wedding.” “As for how he got so fit, he claims running an entire pack kept him too busy to eat.” Ethan gazed at me with pure adoration, nodding along to my every word. “Emily’s right. She didn’t even recognize me at first. I had to introduce myself.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit shy. “I knew we were meant to be the moment we met again. Later, the bond clicked, and we realized the Moon Goddess had blessed us.” Hearing our story, the room fell into a stunned silence. Only Catherine cheered happily. “Fated mates! No wonder you two are so perfect for each other! When is the ceremony? I need to get my maid of honor dress ready!” Before I could answer, James slammed his hands on the table and stood up, his face pale with rage. “Emily, have you had enough of this childish tantrum?!”

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Mom spent three years paying my dead Dad’s debts. Then, on her deathbed, she learned the truth: he’d faked it all. He was alive. … The door creaked open, and the nineteenth man stepped out of Mom’s bedroom, buckling his belt with a sneer. “Even half-dead, your mom is still the best ride in town. That cow was worth every damn minute.” He spat on the floor and walked away without a glance. A faint, wet cough came through the room. “Iris…” I rushed in, but my feet froze at the edge of the bed. The room smelled of stale sweat, copper, and despair. Mom lay there, in a pool of blood, looked like a broken porcelain doll. Her skin was a map of purple and blue, and a thin trail of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth with every ragged breath. Yet, seeing me, she forced the corners of her lips upward. “I paid it off, baby,” she whispered, her voice a rattling shadow. “The debt… it’s gone. Nobody will ever touch you now.” She tried to raise a trembling hand to touch my cheek, then it dropped. A hollow thud against the mattress. “I’m sorry, Iris” she choked out, her eyes beginning to glaze over. “I don’t have much time left. You’ll have to walk the rest… alone.” My world blurred. I couldn’t scream; I couldn’t even breathe. Then—a violent crack split the silence. I turned, my eyes widening in pure shock. Standing there, dressed in a sharp, expensive suit that cost more than our debts, was Dad. Behind him stood my Uncle Lucas, Mom’s brother, looking bored as he checked his gold watch. The two men I had watched “jump” to their deaths three years ago. “Still a dramatic one, aren’t you, Joanna?” Dad said, stepping into the room. He didn’t look at Mom’s shattered body with pity; he looked at her with cold, clinical disgust. He pulled a black credit card from his wallet and tossed it onto her blood-soaked chest. “Remember the charity auction?” he asked. “The day you cancelled Vivian’s card in front of the whole social circle? The day you humiliated her.” “You looked so high and mighty that night, didn’t you? So we decided to bring you down.” Uncle Lucas added. He stepped around a pool of blood as if it were a common puddle. “We let you rot three year. Every debt collector, every ‘thug’ who came to this door?” He smiled, “They were on our payroll. ” “We faked the bankruptcy and debts. We faked the deaths.” “We still watched every single minute of your struggle through the cameras we hid in the walls.” “Now, it’s time to end this.” Dad leaned over her, his voice soft, almost gentle. “Kneel. Apologize to Vivian. Promise you’ll never bully her again, then we’ll let you be our family again. We’ll love you like before.” Mom didn’t cry. A laugh started in her chest. Soft. Hollow. I looked down. Beside her limp hand lay a small, green plastic bottle. It was empty. Antifreeze. Before they broke in, she had swallowed it. “What’s so funny?” Uncle Lucas snapped. He didn’t notice the bottle. He only saw the black blood spray from Mom’s mouth onto his polished leather shoes. “God! Disgusting!” He curled his lip, wiping his shoe on the rug. “What the hell are you faking now, Joanna? You knew we were coming today. Is this fake blood for sympathy? Do you think we’re idiots?” “Mom isn’t faking!” I screamed, lunging at him, but Dad caught me by the throat, shoving me back against the wall. “Don’t be like your mother, Iris. A liar,” Dad hissed. He walked toward the bed, looking at Mom’s mangled limbs with a smirk. “I paid those actors myself. They wouldn’t dare actually touch you. So stop the act and get up.” “Actors?” My voice broke. I looked at the cigarette burns on Mom’s thighs. I looked at the empty space where her right hand used to be—hacked off by a “debt collector” six months ago. Dad saw the stump, but he didn’t flinch. “Nice prosthetic. Very realistic. How much did that cost you? Or did you steal the money I let you keep for food?” “That’s not—” Before I finished, Uncle Lucas cut me off. “Stop wasting words on her. Vivian is outside. She’s been waiting three years for this apology.” “Now get up and kneel, Joanna. Don’t make us drag you.” “Apologize?” she whispered. Her laughter turned into a wet, broken wheeze. “Not… a… chance.” With a final, agonizing surge of will, she tried to push herself up. Yet her remaining arm gave out immediately. She rolled off the bed, her knees hitting the floor with a heavy, bone-snapping thud. For a second, the room was silent. Then, Uncle Lucas lost his temper. He reached down, grabbed Mom by her matted hair, and yanked her head back. “I said GET UP! This isn’t a choice!” Mom screamed. The sound cut straight through me. “Stop it! You’re killing her!” I fought against Dad’s grip, but he held me fast, watching the scene with a bored expression. Just when I thought all hope was lost— Uncle Lucas’ boot struck the green bottle. It rolled across the floor, clinking against the bedpost. My heart hammered. Look at it. Please, just look at the label. If they realized she was poisoned, maybe they’d stop. Maybe they’d feel a shred of guilt. A pause. Uncle Lucas frowned, his eyes following the bottle. He started to bend down. His fingers were barely an inch from the plastic— Then the door swung open again. A woman stumbled in, draped in white silk and diamonds. Vivian.

She dropped to her knees in front of Mom, in the basement filth, putting on a face of mock concern for the men watching. She had knelt like this before. In the hospital. When Mom woke up with fifteen stitches across her stomach. Her eyes were red back then, leaking tears. “You saved me, Joanna,” she had sobbed. “You’re my sister now.” Now, those same hands grabbed Mom’s knuckles. Yet her sharp nails sank into Mom’s knuckles. “Joanna, just hit me,” Vivian whispered, Her voice was like honey poured over glass. “I should have told you Julian was only faking his death. It’s my fault you suffered for three years.” Then, without warning, Vivian’s eyes flashed with a cold, predatory light. She grabbed Mom’s limp, unresponsive hand and violently yanked it against her own cheek. SLAP. The sound was sickeningly loud in the small room. A massive shock rocked Mom’s body. A fountain of dark, thick blood burst from her mouth, staining her chin. I lunged forward to catch her. Dad’s hand clamped onto my shoulder like an iron trap. He didn’t even look at the blood pouring from Mom’s lips. He turned a blind eye to all of this. Mom’s face twisted in excruciating pain. She gave a weak, desperate pull, trying to free her hand. “Ah!” Vivian shrieked, hitting the floor like a sack of flour. Dad let go of me instantly. He was there in a heartbeat. He scooped Vivian up, holding her as if she were a piece of fine porcelain. “You haven’t changed, Joanna,” Dad said, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. “Vivian comes here to apologize, and you attack her?” “Three years wasn’t enough,” Dad continued, his hand tightening around Vivian’s waist as if shielding her from a monster. “Since you won’t learn, Joanna, I’ll find a place where your malice can’t reach anyone.” He turned his gaze to the guards standing in the shadows. “Take her back to the estate. Lock her in the cold storage. Don’t let her out until she learns how to beg for Vivian’s forgiveness.” Two guards lunged forward. They didn’t treat her like the mistress. They grabbed her by her matted hair and her bruised shoulders, dragging her across the rough concrete. Mom’s thin shirt tore away, exposing the network of cigarette burns and whip marks to the dim gray light. Not one man in the room flinched. Not my dad, not my uncle. To them, those scars were just part of the ‘act’ she was putting on. Mom didn’t fight. She didn’t scream. Instead, she laughed. It was a wet, rattling sound that seemed to bubble up from the blood in her lungs. “Julian. Lucas,” she said, her glassy eyes flitting between her husband and her brother. “You are both… so incredibly stupid. You think you’re the masters of this game?” “Do you want to know why I really cancelled her credit card three years ago?” Her voice was getting weaker, but the edge in it was still sharp. “Because—” CRACK. A blow suddenly caught Mom across the face, snapping her head back. The sound was like a whip. A shadow moved from the corner. My grandfather stepped forward. He didn’t look like a grieving parent, he looked like a god passing judgment. He didn’t look at Mom’s blood on the floor. He just wiped a smudge of Mom’s blood from his thumb with a silk square. “Enough, Joanna!” Grandfather hissed. “You’ve been spoiled too long. You lie. You hurt the only person who cares about you.” He looked at Vivian, cradled in Dad’s arms, then back at Mom, who was barely holding onto consciousness. “You are no daughter of mine anymore,” Grandfather said, his voice cold and final. “From today on, Vivian is the only daughter of this family.” Mom’s eyes went flat. The light didn’t just fade; it vanished. She stopped looking at Grandfather. She stopped looking at any of them. It was the look of someone who had already left the room. The guards lunged, dragging her toward the stairs like a bag of trash. Her lifeless feet kicked the empty green bottle. Clink. Clink. Clink. It rolled into the darkness. None of them looked down.

Mom lay on the floor, blood masking her face. Even then, a thin, cold smile still stayed on her lips. “I’m not a daughter of this family,” she rasped. “But none of you deserve to be my family, either.” Grandfather’s face went dark with rage. His chest heaved as he raised his hand. I didn’t think. I threw my weight over Mom’s spine, my arms locking around her neck. Slap! The blow didn’t hit her. It landed on the side of my face with a dull, wet crack. A sharp, copper taste flooded my tongue. My jaw felt like it would snap. I didn’t cry. I screamed into the stagnant air of the basement. “Stop hitting her! She drank the antifreeze! She’s dying!” Silence dropped over the basement. The only sound was the heavy drip of water from a pipe. Dad’s face turned the color of ash. He stepped toward us. “Iris?” His voice was a jagged whisper. “What did you say? Your mom took… what?” I scrambled across the blood, my knees scraping against the floorboards. My fingers shook as I finally picked up the green bottle. I held it out to him. “She drank it. Right before you broke down the door. It’s Antifreeze!” Dad reached out, his long fingers trembling. But before he could touch the plastic, Vivian moved. She snatched the bottle from the air. Her thumb moved across the label in a quick, practiced scrape. My eyes widened. I saw her nail dig into the ink, peeling back the letters. “You—” Before I finished it, she handed it back to Dad with a long, theatrical sigh. “Antifreeze? Julian, look.” She pointed to the mangled label. “The letters are all wrong. It says ‘A-N-T.’ ” “It’s just bug spray. Joanna, if you wanted to hurt us, you should have used the real thing. Don’t force Iris to lie for your theater.” I stared at the bottle in Dad’s hand. The word was gone, replaced by a smear of gray plastic. It looked like a cheap prop. Dad’s jaw tightened. Uncle Lucas grabbed the bottle and hurled it at Mom’s head. Thud. The plastic struck her temple. Her head lurched to the side, hitting the floor hard. A fresh line of red opened near her eye. “Are you insane, Joanna?” Uncle Lucas’ voice was thick with disgust. “You think a fake bottle and a lying brat will make us pity you? You’re pathetic.” Dad let out a short, sharp laugh. “To lie about your own death just for a moment of attention,” Dad said. “You’re even lower than I thought.” He didn’t see Mom’s fingers twitching against the floor. Beside her was the bottle of antifreeze. I remembered the day three years ago when she first bought that bottle. The smell of the basement was the same then. A debt collector had pinned me to the wall, his hand crushing my collarbone. “If you die, the debt goes to the girl,” the man had snarled. Mom had dropped the cap. She had crawled to them, her forehead touching the mud on their boots. “I won’t die. I’ll do anything. Just don’t touch my daughter.” She had endured three years of hell for me. And now, the light in her eyes was flickering out because of them. I stumbled toward Dad. My legs felt like lead, but I forced them to move. I dropped to my knees in front of his polished leather shoes. Thud. I slammed my forehead into the concrete. The impact sent a shockwave through my skull. I did it again. Thud. Warm liquid began to drip down my nose, mixing with the grit on the floor. “Dad, Mom’s in pain! Please, just look at her! Save her!” Dad just stepped back. He looked down at me, his eyes flat and cold, as if he were looking at a stain on his carpet. “Look at her, Joanna. Look at what you’ve turned our daughter into. A liar. A beggar.” “No!” I shrieked, my voice breaking. “Stop…” That moment, Mom let out a soft, wet sound. She reached out a trembling hand, her fingers brushing the dust near my knees. “Iris… stop. Don’t beg them. I’m… fine.” She tried to push herself up. Her elbows gave way. The next second, she rolled onto the cold concrete. A low, guttural moan tore from her throat—a sound of raw, physical agony that cut right through me. “Mom!”

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The night my husband Dominic Caruso died, I was crouched behind the study door, listening to him sign my death warrant. His voice was fading—stage-four pancreatic cancer had eaten him from the inside out—but his words still carried all the authority of the Don’s underboss. “Elena needs to disappear before the week is out.” A wet cough. “Frame it clean. Tell the other families she was feeding information to the Morellis. Say she was sleeping with one of their captains. Nobody investigates a traitor’s execution.” His mother, Agatha, shifted in her chair. “Dominic, she’s carrying your child.” Silence stretched like a wire about to snap. “But Serena is too soft.” His voice dropped to something tender, something I’d never once heard. “Once I’m gone, there’ll be nobody left to shield her and Nico. Elena’s a Ferrante—her family will push for control of everything I’ve built. She’ll bury Serena alive if it serves her interests.” “I have to kill Elena.” “You understand what you’re asking,” Agatha finally said. “I do.” Another cough, thick and drowning. “Call it my debt. I owe Serena a life without fear.” Agatha’s heels clicked toward the door. I pressed myself into the shadow of the hallway credenza, barely breathing, and she passed without seeing me. Then came the sound that truly gutted me. Dominic’s voice, naked longing: “Serena… if there’s another life, please be mine from the start. No Marco between us. No political alliances. Just you and me.” Five years of marriage. Five years of him tucking my hair behind my ear at family dinners, his palm warm against the small of my back at fundraisers. His reputation as the underboss who adored his wife. The whole organization whispered about it—Dominic Caruso, cold-blooded in business, besotted at home. But all of it theater. Every tender gesture performed for an audience. My husband had never loved me for a single second. I don’t remember falling. I remember the taste of iron flooding my mouth, the sharp crack of my knees against marble, and then a terrible spreading warmth across my abdomen. Someone was screaming—one of the housemaids, maybe. There were running footsteps. “Mrs. Caruso is down! She’s bleeding—oh God, someone call an ambulance—” “The boss flatlined. He’s gone—” “She’s not breathing too. She’s not breathing—” The voices frayed into static. The marble under my cheek was so cold it burned. And then there was nothing. …… “Elena. Elena. Wake up—he’s here. Dominic’s back.” I opened my eyes to Mara’s face—my assistant. She was shaking my shoulder, her dark eyes bright with an excitement I hadn’t seen in years. “The convoy just pulled through the gate. He’s home from Chicago.” I sat up in bed. Silk sheets. Morning light. The penthouse suite of the Caruso estate in Brooklyn Heights, with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the harbor. My hands moved to my stomach. Flat. No swelling. No blood. The digital clock on the nightstand read 9:47 AM. The date beneath it knocked the breath from my lungs. March 15th. The day Dominic returned from the Chicago operation—victorious, celebrated, and carrying his brother’s widow Serena Vitale and her son Nico in tow. His brother Marco had been killed in the territory war three weeks prior, and Dominic had appointed himself their protector. I had been reborn. Impossibly, inexplicably back at the beginning. Downstairs, I could already hear the commotion—engines idling, doors slamming, voices raised in congratulation. “Get my clothes,” I told Mara. My voice sounded calm. Terrifyingly calm. She hesitated. “Are you alright? You look pale.” “I’m fine.” I swung my legs off the bed. “Get me dressed. I need to welcome my husband home.” This time, I would not love him. This time, I would not beg for scraps of affection from a man whose heart had never belonged to me. This time, I would give him exactly what he wanted—Serena, free and clear—and I would walk away with everything that was mine. This time, I would survive.

By the time I descended the main staircase, the foyer was already a tableau of domestic bliss. Agatha sat in the wingback chair by the fireplace, Nico perched on her knee while she cooed over him like he was the second coming. “Oh, look at you, tesoro. Come to Nonna. Such a handsome boy—Marco’s very image.” Serena was arranged on the adjacent settee. She wore a cream cashmere wrap draped artfully over her shoulders, her dark hair swept into a loose chignon that emphasized the porcelain pallor of her face. She looked fragile. Breakable. “Please, Agatha, you’re too kind.” Her voice was a murmur, soft as crushed velvet. “My health has been so unreliable—but Dominic took such good care of us. I’m much stronger now, truly.” And there he was. My husband. Standing at Serena’s shoulder with his hand resting on the back of her settee, his body angled toward her. When he spoke, his voice held a gentleness I had never once heard directed at me in five years of marriage. “Marco would have wanted me to look after them. It’s the least I could do.” Agatha beamed. “You two grew up together—no need for such formality. Behind closed doors, we’re all family here.” Family. Yes. What a perfect little family they made. I stepped into the room. The laughter died instantly. Agatha’s smile flattened. Dominic straightened, and for one unguarded second I caught it—the flicker of irritation, there and gone before he rearranged his features into something appropriately husbandly. “Elena.” Agatha’s voice cooled by several degrees. “Your husband and his sister-in-law arrived twenty minutes ago. Where have you been?” “My apologies.” I kept my expression pleasant. Neutral. “The guest suite needed final preparations—I wanted to make sure everything was perfect for Serena and Nico.” Serena rose on cue, one hand pressed to her collarbone. “Oh, Elena, please don’t trouble yourself on my account. We’ve imposed so suddenly—I told Dominic we shouldn’t have come without more notice. You’ve been unwell, haven’t you? You shouldn’t be exerting yourself.” Her eyes glistened. She was extraordinary at this—the trembling lip, the self-deprecating concern that somehow made me look neglectful by comparison. Dominic’s hand found Serena’s elbow to steady her. “Don’t rush to worry about others. Elena’s all aright. Instead, you’re the one having chest pains. The room needs to be warm, properly set up. Is it ready, Elena?” “Everything’s arranged.” I smiled. “Heated floors, humidifier, blackout curtains. If anything isn’t to your liking, Serena, just let me know.” Agatha nodded, slightly mollified. Eventually they settled Serena and Nico into the guest wing—the second-largest suite, after the master suite. Dominic walked her there himself, his hand hovering at the small of her back. I watched them disappear down the corridor and felt nothing. Later that night, in our bedroom, Dominic loosened his tie and looked at me with an expression I once would have called tender. “These past few years apart—I know it hasn’t been easy for you, managing things here alone.” He crossed the room, cupped my face in his hands. “I’m back now. Staying. We’ll make this work, Elena.” A pause. Then, softer: “Serena and Nico—I promised Marco. They need extra attention right now, but don’t read into it.” He kissed my forehead. “Maybe it’s time we thought about starting a family of our own.” Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and his jaw tightened. “Serena’s having chest pains again. I need to—” He was already moving toward the door. “Don’t wait up.” He didn’t come back. By morning, every member of staff in the estate knew that Dominic Caruso had spent his first night home not with his wife, but sitting vigil at his brother’s widow’s bedside. And I knew what none of them did: Serena’s so-called heart condition was a fiction. She was two months pregnant with Dominic’s child. Last time, she’d swallowed pills to abort it, then wept to Dominic that I had poisoned her—driven her to miscarry through cruelty and neglect. Not this time. This time, I would keep that baby alive. I would guard Serena’s pregnancy like a hawk guarding its nest. And when the truth could no longer be hidden, I would drag it into the light in front of everyone who mattered. Let them explain that away.

Three days after his return, Dominic brought Serena to breakfast in the main dining room. She appeared in the doorway clinging to his arm, wan and lovely, and the moment she saw me her lips parted in that rehearsed look of concern. “Elena—good morning. I hope I’m not intruding. Dom insisted I eat with everyone today.” I smiled pleasantly and gestured to the chair beside me. “Of course. Sit.” That afternoon, the first strike came. I was reviewing household accounts in the study when Dominic burst in, his face a mask of barely controlled fury. “What did you put in those pastries?” I blinked. “What?” “Serena’s doubled over in pain. She hasn’t eaten anything today except what your kitchen sent to her room this morning.” He was advancing on me, his voice low and lethal in the way I imagined he spoke to men he was about to put in the ground. “If you touched her food—if you put something in it because you’re jealous of one goddamn night—” “Dominic.” I stood slowly. “I didn’t—” He grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward him. From behind him, Serena’s housekeeper appeared in the doorway, breathless and theatrical. “Mr. Caruso—she’s asking for you. She keeps saying the pain is in her stomach, and the only things she ate were Mrs. Caruso’s pastries—” His open palm connected with my cheekbone before I could speak. The crack echoed off the study walls. My head snapped sideways. For three full seconds I couldn’t see—just white light and a high ringing sound, and then the room swam back into focus and Dominic was staring at me with his hand still raised, his chest heaving. “If anything happens to her,” he said, very quietly, “I will make you wish you’d never been born.” He turned and strode out. I stood alone in the study, my cheek throbbing, and pressed my palm flat against the mahogany desk until my fingers stopped trembling. When I reached Serena’s suite twenty minutes later—because I needed to see, needed to confirm—the scene was already winding down. The family physician had come and gone. Diagnosis: indigestion from overconsumption of rich food. Nothing more. Two antacid tablets and she’d be fine by evening. She’d simply eaten too many pastries. Serena was propped against her pillows, eyes red-rimmed, Dominic perched on the edge of her bed holding her hand. When she saw me in the doorway, she manufactured a tremulous smile. “Elena—I’m so sorry for the scare. I think I was just anxious. When my stomach started hurting, I panicked… I thought maybe…” She trailed off delicately. Dominic didn’t look at me. “She was frightened. Can you blame her? You’ve made it clear you don’t want her here.” “I’ve done nothing of the sort.” “Your attitude alone is enough.” He finally met my eyes. Cold. Dismissive. “She feels unwelcome. Fix it.” Nico appeared from behind the armchair—I hadn’t seen him there. He ran at me full-tilt, both small hands shoving hard into my hip. I stumbled backward and my lower back cracked against the marble edge of the console table. Pain radiated up my spine like electricity. “I hate you!” he shrieked. “Uncle Dom is ours—mine and Mama’s! You’re the bad one!” Serena gathered him to her chest, tears spilling prettily. “Oh, baby, no—Elena, forgive him. He’s just a child. He only wants a father so badly…” I couldn’t straighten fully. Mara was suddenly beside me, hand under my elbow, pulling me upright. Dominic watched me struggle and his expression didn’t change. “He’s five years old, Elena. Don’t be dramatic. He barely touched you.” “You need to fix your attitude. You’re making them both miserable.” I looked at Nico, still glaring at me from the safety of his mother’s arms. “Don’t worry, Nico,” I said softly. “Your uncle is all yours. He always has been.” Dominic’s eyes narrowed, but I was already turning away, letting Mara guide me out. Behind us, Serena’s muffled sobs resumed on cue.

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