Category: English

One month before the Pack’s annual Hunt Festival, an intern from the Healing Center sent me a photo. In the dimly lit treatment room, my fated mate, Alexander, who was also the Pack’s lead healer, was pinning a female warrior against the table. His hands were gripped tightly around her waist. They were staring into each other’s eyes, their bodies pressed flush together. I sent the photo straight to Alexander. Late that night, he came home smelling of therapeutic essential oils. He gave me a lazy, practiced explanation. “Evelyn, you know this is just part of my job.” “Her injury is in a sensitive spot near her lower back. I had to find the exact angle to apply pressure. The photo just makes it look worse than it is.” I pulled the blanket tighter around myself. “Okay. Go to sleep. You have to train with her tomorrow.” He looked surprised. “You’re not mad?” I shook my head. Since he couldn’t let go of his first love, it was time for me to go back to my Alpha. Seeing that I had nothing more to say, Alexander went to take a shower. The posture in that photo didn’t look like medical treatment at all. It looked like an embrace. The intern who sent it only added one line: [Evelyn, I’m not trying to start drama. But Alexander has been doing this with her every single day for the past six months.] Alexander walked out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out to ruffle my hair. “Evelyn, Olivia’s spine was severely damaged by silver weapons years ago. Normal healing spells don’t work. I have to get close to find the trigger points.” “I was only treating her.” I turned my head away, avoiding his touch, and stared at the ceiling. “Okay.” “She’s been training too hard for the Hunt Festival, and her back muscles are spasming. I don’t trust any other healer with her.” “Okay.” “You know my skills. The whole Pack trusts me.” I finally turned to look at him and forced a smile. “I know, Alexander. You’re a great healer.” He kept explaining. “She and I broke up a long time ago. We’re just friends now.” I didn’t reply. I knew exactly how heavy their past was. Olivia had never truly left his life. Whenever she got a cramp during training, had a flare-up of an old injury, or couldn’t sleep, she would text him to come over. On the night we completed our Mate Bond ceremony, she texted him at eleven p.m.: “My back is killing me. I can’t move! It hurts so bad!” Alexander had just taken off his coat. After reading the message, he didn’t hesitate to lace his boots back on. I pulled his sleeve. “Does it have to be tonight?” “She’s alone in her apartment. No one is there to look after her.” I sat on the edge of the bed and lowered my head. He bent down and tucked me in. “I’ll be quick. I’ll take you to register our bond at the Pack Hall first thing tomorrow morning.” He didn’t return until three in the morning. There was a smear of essential oil on his collar. He said it got there “while stretching her out.” I knew she was fine. With a werewolf warrior’s healing ability, even the worst silver injury would have healed after several years. But he wanted to go, and no one could stop him. Every time I brought up Olivia, he would say, “She’s a warrior of our Pack, and I’m a healer. It’s my duty.” The more fragile she acted, the more patient he became. The more demanding she was, the harder it was for him to say no. Everyone in the Pack whispered that they were still hooking up. I, his fated mate, felt like an outsider in my own marriage. Alexander wanted to say more, but his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced at it, his expression shifting slightly, and quickly pressed the lock button. “It’s probably just her. She gets anxious before the Hunt.” I closed my eyes. “Answer it. What if she can’t sleep tonight and it ruins her training tomorrow?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he placed the phone face down, turned around, and wrapped his arms around me. “Don’t overthink it, Evelyn. She and I are in the past.” I didn’t hug him back. Suddenly, a sharp cramp flared in my lower abdomen, like a tight knot twisting inside me. I frowned but kept quiet. Even if I told him, he wouldn’t care right now.

The next morning at six-thirty, Olivia’s call came right on time. “Alexander, I can’t train today. I seriously can’t even lift my back.” Alexander’s voice held a trace of helpless indulgence. “Olivia, you’re not a pup anymore. It’s just a mild cramp.” Olivia whimpered on the other end. “Would it kill you to be nice to me?” He went silent for two seconds, his tone softening. “Fine. I’ll head over after my morning rounds at the clinic. I’ll bring a special ointment.” Olivia immediately pushed further. “After that, you have to buy me breakfast and help me stretch.” Alexander let out a low chuckle. “Why don’t you just ask me to move in and be your personal healer?” “I would! But do you dare? Would your precious mate even allow it?” The bathroom door was slightly open. I heard every single word. He hung up, turned around, and froze when he saw me standing there. “She’s just stressed before the Hunt,” he said quickly. My face remained blank. “You’re very attentive.” “Maybe you should request a transfer to be the dedicated medic for her squad.” He frowned. “Evelyn.” A sudden, violent wave of pain surged from deep within my belly. I gripped the doorframe, my voice hoarse. “Move.” I pushed past him into the bathroom, collapsing by the toilet, dry-heaving. Nothing came up, but cold sweat broke out across my forehead. Alexander stood at the doorway. He didn’t come closer. He just watched me with a frown. “What’s wrong now?” I gasped for air. “My stomach… it hurts.” He looked at my pale face, his voice flat. “Your emotions have been all over the place lately. Of course your body is reacting. Just stop overthinking, and you’ll feel better.” I froze, my fingers gripping the edge of the sink tightly. He didn’t seem to notice. He grabbed a tissue to wipe the doorknob. “You never say anything when you’re actually sick. You only act pitiful when you want attention. It’s exhausting, Evelyn.” He checked his watch. “I have to treat Olivia this morning, and there’s a joint seminar this afternoon. I can’t stay.” “There are painkillers in the cabinet. Take two and rest.” Before leaving, he added, “Turn on the exhaust fan when you’re done. Don’t leave a smell for others.” The moment the door slammed shut, another spasm hit me. I couldn’t even stand up. A metallic taste rose in my throat. I leaned against the wall for a long time, feeling a deep sense of irony. He had all the patience in the world to find the perfect angle for Olivia’s spine, but he found my pain “exhausting” and “pitiful.” It turned out his medical compassion was highly selective. He grabbed his bag and left without looking back. I wiped my face, ordered a cab, and drove myself to the Healing Center.

The healer looked at my ultrasound results and fell into a long silence. “Evelyn,” she began carefully, “your physical state is terrible. I’m not just talking about the medical reports. I mean *you*. You look… completely crushed.” I didn’t say anything. She hesitated. “Where is your mate? Does he know you’re here?” I opened my mouth, but no words came. Aside from Alexander, I had no one else to call. My parents died when I was young. I had lived alone for so many years before I finally thought I had found a home with him. But now, as the healer asked about him, my fingers went cold against the paper. I suddenly realized that my pain wasn’t just a physical illness. It was the sickness of a failing Mate Bond. It was the physical manifestation of his betrayal. As I walked out of the Healing Center, I tried to mindlink Alexander, but I couldn’t feel his presence. He had blocked our link. Standing on the steps, I called him. No answer. I sent him a text: [I have an emergency. Come home now.] I took a cab back. When I opened the front door, I saw a pair of unfamiliar women’s leather boots on the rug. In the living room, Olivia was lounging on our couch. One of her legs was propped up on the coffee table, her ankle wrapped in a bandage. Alexander was kneeling in front of her, gently massaging her foot with expert precision. “Did you twist it?” he asked. “Yeah, just a clumsy mistake.” Olivia pouted, her voice sweet and helpless. “Alexander, am I going to be benched for two weeks?” “Your ligaments are a bit tight. Don’t walk on it too much.” He squeezed her ankle gently. “Does it hurt?” “Only a little,” she whispered, her eyes locked onto his. “But it doesn’t hurt when you’re here.” “I’m here,” he murmured. Those two words. In all the years we had been together, he had almost never said them to me. A minor sprain was nothing to a werewolf warrior. They healed in hours. He knew it wasn’t serious. He just wanted to be there for her. My abdomen flared with pain again. I gripped the entryway cabinet, my knuckles turning white. Alexander finally noticed me. “Where did you go? Why do you look so pale?” I opened my mouth to say, *I just came from the clinic,* but Olivia cut me off with a sigh. “Evelyn, please don’t misunderstand! My ankle was so swollen I couldn’t walk. Alexander was worried about me being alone, so he brought me here to treat it.” I ignored her and kept my eyes on Alexander. “I need to talk to you.” Before he could answer, Olivia gasped. “Alexander, my toes are going numb.” He immediately looked down, re-examining her foot. His voice softened even more. “Don’t move. The ligament just loosened. Give it a minute.” I stood there, clutching my bag. “Alexander, can you please take me to the Healing Center?” Olivia grabbed his wrist at that exact moment. “Did I break a bone? Why is it hurting more?” Alexander frowned, checking her foot without looking up. “Evelyn, if you’re not feeling well, go lie down. I’ll come check on you as soon as I’m done here.” “Never mind.” I turned, walked into the bedroom, and shoved my medical report into the very bottom drawer of the nightstand. That night, Alexander knocked on the door. “The guest bedroom is too damp. I’m going to let Olivia sleep in our bed tonight. You can crash in the guest room for one night.” I opened the door. Olivia had already walked into our master bedroom holding a glass of warm water. She sat right on the edge of my bed and naturally reached into the nightstand to look for pain patches. The bottom drawer held my medical report. I blocked her hand. “Don’t touch that. I’ll get it for you.” But Olivia’s fingers had already brushed against something else in the top drawer. A box of birth control pills. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You guys have been together for five years and you’re still using these? I was starting to wonder if he even marked you.” She threw a meaningful look at Alexander. “Didn’t you use to hate birth control? You told me you never wanted a pup with anyone else.” The room went dead silent. I looked at Alexander. He looked away, avoiding my eyes. For five years, he had never brought up having children. I thought he was just being considerate of my career. It turned out he had made the decision for me long ago. My abdomen seized in a violent cramp. I gripped the edge of the drawer, cold sweat dripping down my face. I pulled the medical report out, held it tightly, and walked toward the front door. “Evelyn, where are you going?” he called out from behind me. I didn’t look back. Where else would I go? I was going to deal with a pup that he never planned to have—and now, a pup he would never have the right to know.

By the time I reached the Healing Center, I could barely stand. The emergency healer took one look at me and her face paled. She didn’t even look at the paperwork; she just grabbed my shoulders and helped me into a chair. “Why are you here alone?” her voice was frantic. “Where is your mate? Where is he?” I shook my head. Her expression darkened. She turned to the nurse. “Prep the OR. Now.” I gripped the back of the chair, my clothes soaked in cold sweat. “We need to contact your mate,” the healer said. “In your condition, having your mate’s scent and aura to soothe you would make a huge difference.” I stared at the floor for a long time before finally dialing Alexander’s number. It rang for what felt like forever before he picked up. In the background, I could hear Olivia’s whiny voice. “Alexander, my foot still hurts. Come back and look at it…” Alexander’s tone over the phone was instantly gentle. “Don’t move, I’m coming.” Then he spoke to me, his voice instantly turning cold. “Evelyn, what is it?” “Alexander, come to the Healing Center.” “If you’re really sick, let the healers handle it. What good am I going to do there?” “The healer said… I need my mate’s scent to stabilize me.” My voice was so weak I could barely hear myself. “I have no other family. I only have you.” There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by a heavy, irritated sigh. “Evelyn, stop doing this. I know you’re an orphan and you’ve always been insecure. I get it. But you can’t keep weaponizing your trauma to manipulate my feelings.” Those words pierced through my ears like poisoned needles. The pain was so intense my vision went black. The call disconnected. I stared at the dark screen, my knees buckling. He knew exactly how alone I was in this world, and yet he used my loneliness as a weapon to push me away. I braced myself against the wall, opened my contacts, and scrolled to a number I hadn’t dialed in years. It rang once before he picked up. “Evelyn?” My voice shook violently. “Nathaniel… can you come to the Healing Center?” There was a sudden scrape of a chair on the other end. “Send me the address. I’m on my way.” That night, Alexander took Olivia to a Pack bonfire party. After a few drinks, someone suggested a game of Truth or Dare. The beer bottle spun and pointed directly at Alexander. “Alexander, honestly, if Olivia hadn’t gone abroad years ago, wouldn’t you two be married by now?” The crowded room went quiet for a second, followed by a burst of knowing laughter. Olivia leaned closer to him, looking down with a shy smile. “Stop it, guys. Alexander has been married to Evelyn for three years.” But as she spoke, her hand slid over his on the table. Alexander didn’t pull away. Someone cheered. “You’re holding hands and you’re telling us to stop? Come on, Alexander, answer the question!” He raised his glass. “Next question.” The laughter grew louder. Olivia took his phone to take a selfie. When she tapped the screen, she paused at the passcode screen. It was still her birthday. “You never changed the password,” she whispered, her eyes curving into crescents. She leaned her head against his shoulder. “My back hurts too much to lean down, block the light for me.” Alexander frowned slightly but still tilted his body to shield her from the camera glare. Someone yelled about posting the pictures on Snapchat. He replied casually, “Go ahead. My mate doesn’t check social media anyway.” Then, he added, “She’s been acting crazy lately. Always complaining about not feeling well.” The laughter slowly died down. A Pack member sitting in the corner suddenly looked up. “Are you saying Evelyn is faking it?” “What else would she be doing?” The man’s expression changed. “But… I was at the Healing Center yesterday. I saw her. A man had to carry her into the emergency room.” “She lost her pup. And the man holding her… was Alpha Nathaniel.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “464065”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Late at night, a new post suddenly popped up on the Silvermoon Pack’s private forum. [I heard Sarah is back.] In less than a minute, the thread was flooded with dozens of replies. “Oh my god, she and Alpha Ethan… what happened back then was such a tragedy.” “If she hadn’t left to join the Ironclaw Pack, our pack would probably have an heir by now.” “Even after all these years, I still think they are the ultimate power couple.” Right then, Sarah, who had been inactive for years, finally replied. She only wrote one sentence. “Some people, once you miss them, you regret it for a lifetime.” The forum immediately exploded with ship emojis. Nobody seemed to care—or remember—that they already had a Luna. I slowly lowered my phone and looked at the man sleeping beside me. Alpha Ethan. The very man they were all mourning as “the regret of a lifetime” was currently fast asleep right next to me. The forum notifications kept lighting up my screen. [Sarah, are you staying for good this time?] Sarah replied almost instantly: [Yes. I’m not leaving again.] That single sentence set the entire forum on fire. “I still can’t believe Ethan ended up marrying a human…” “Ugh, don’t even get me started. That human Luna doesn’t even show up to pack gatherings. She’s barely a Luna.” “Now that Sarah is back, things will finally go back to how they should be. She’s the only one fit to stand beside Ethan.” “Oh my god, does this mean Sarah and Ethan might actually get back together?” Sarah didn’t confirm, but she didn’t deny it either. A few seconds later, she just posted a smiling emoji. [If it’s meant to be, we will find our way back to each other.] The comment section was instantly filled with flower and applause emojis. I quietly exited the forum and locked my phone. Beside me, Ethan was sleeping deeply. Seven years of marriage, and he had always been like this. Cold, controlled, and polite. He remembered every anniversary. He transferred money to my account on time. He even accompanied me to visit the orphanage. But he never loved me. I used to wonder why an Alpha like him would want to marry a human like me. I never got an answer, and I never dared to ask. Just as I was about to turn off the bedside lamp, his phone lit up. A new message popped up on his lock screen. [I’m back.] There was no contact name saved. But I recognized the sender immediately. It was Sarah. I turned my head to look at Ethan. His breathing was steady; he hadn’t woken up. His long fingers, however, were resting gently on my stomach, just like they did every night. The wedding band on his ring finger pressed cold against the back of my hand. The chill seeped straight into my chest, making it hard to breathe. My fingertips hovered over his phone. With just a simple passcode, I could know everything they were talking about. But a second later, I pulled my hand back. Ethan never hid his phone from me. Not because he loved me, but because he knew I would never pry. And because I knew that even if I found something, it wouldn’t change a single thing. I had heard stories about how he used to treat Sarah. Once, a young female werewolf in the pack had tried to flirt with him. Sarah had ignored him for an entire day. After training that evening, he had chased her across half the pack’s territory. He forced his phone into her hands, wearing a helpless, desperate smile. “Are you jealous?” “I already blocked her.” “If you don’t believe me, check my texts. Delete whoever you want.” Back then, Ethan only had eyes for one person. But now, he had locked all that passion away. When the sky was just turning gray, before the alarm could go off, Ethan woke up. Almost instinctively, he reached for his phone.

Usually, he would get up early for an hour of training. But not today. He just leaned against the headboard, staring down at his phone. The screen lit up, dimmed, and lit up again. It wasn’t until almost eight o’clock that he finally set the phone down and got up to change. I acted natural as I spoke up. “Are you going to the annual pack gala this year?” His hands paused on his cufflinks. “Yes.” We never had much to talk about. Despite sharing the same bed, I had to find out about his life from an online forum. Ethan hesitated for a moment. “Are you coming?” I shook my head. The pack gatherings had never been something I looked forward to. I was the Luna, yet I was always treated like an outsider. I knew what they called me behind my back. “The useless human.” They didn’t accept me. To werewolves, humans were fragile and troublesome. If I weren’t the Alpha’s mate, they wouldn’t even look at me. He didn’t press the issue. He just gave a faint nod. “Okay.” He probably didn’t want me there either. The moment the door closed, I picked up my phone. The Silvermoon Pack forum had already accumulated over two hundred new messages, all about Ethan and Sarah. The rebellious Alpha heir and his beautiful, elegant ex-girlfriend. The two of them together was always the ultimate gossip. Sarah finally posted: “Just woke up. See you all at the gala next week!” Dozens of users replied instantly. “Can’t wait to see you!” “Wait, does that mean you saw everything we chatted about last night? I thought you blocked the forum notifications.” “Team Sarah and Ethan forever!” Sarah replied with a cute waving cat emoji. “It’s fine. I actually found it… quite interesting.” That sentence was hard to read. But nobody pushed further. Instead, they shifted the topic back to the gala. [By the way, is Alpha Ethan actually coming?] [The Alpha has been so busy with pack business lately. He probably won’t have time for a party.] [Man, the guy who used to skip training just to climb over a wall for Sarah is now the mature, serious Alpha of Silvermoon.] The forum went quiet for a few seconds. Then, Sarah posted a single line. [He will be there.] Someone immediately asked. [How do you know?] It took her a few seconds to reply. [He promised me.]

“Luna Emily.” Ethan stood at the bedroom door, fastening his cuffs. “Don’t you have an appointment at nine?” I snapped my head toward the clock. 8:40 AM. I had barely slept last night, and I had actually forgotten to set my alarm. I threw my phone aside and scrambled out of bed. I had promised Grandma Eleanor I’d visit her at nine to help with her rose garden. I was a punctual person. I hated being late. Except for that one time, before I met Ethan. It had been pouring that day. I was standing at the bus stop, completely drenched. A sleek black car had pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing a handsome, youthful face. It was Ethan, though I didn’t know his identity back then. “Get in. The rain is too heavy,” he had said, his voice flat, not even looking at me. I hesitated, but eventually climbed in. The heater in the car was on, and it was incredibly warm. He didn’t talk to me. He just drove in silence. I gave him an address, and he simply nodded. I thought he was just a kind stranger giving me a lift. But when he dropped me off and I got out to thank him, I followed his gaze. Across the street, inside a cozy cafe, Sarah was sitting by the window, waving at him. He wasn’t trying to help me. He was just on his way to pick her up, and he had simply pitied the drowned rat on the curb. In the living room, I turned around. Ethan was sitting at the dining table, sipping his coffee. Suddenly, a reckless thought crossed my mind. “Ethan, I’m going to be late. Are you busy?” In our seven years of marriage, this was the first time I had ever asked him for a favor. If he just said, “I’ll drive you.” I think I would have been happy for a very long time. But he merely glanced at his watch. “I’ll have the driver take you.” I froze for a second. “Okay. Thanks.” “Thank you” and “Thanks” were the most common words in our marriage. Thank you for the gift. Thanks for grabbing my coat. We were as polite as roommates who had shared an apartment for years, not like mates, and certainly not like husband and wife. Thanks to the driver, I wasn’t late. Grandma Eleanor was already in the garden, wearing a sunhat and trimming the roses. We had met in a community garden years ago. The old lady loved flowers, but her family was always too busy to keep her company. I frequented that garden too. She always said that even the most beautiful flowers needed patient care. Gradually, we became close friends despite the age gap. Back then, I had no idea she was Ethan’s grandmother, let alone the former Elder Luna of the Silvermoon Pack. During our chats, she would only complain about her rebellious, stubborn grandson. Until the day Ethan came to pick her up. “Luna Emily,” Eleanor waved her shears in front of my face. “What’s wrong? You seem totally out of it today.” I had just accidentally snipped off a perfectly healthy bud. I snapped out of it and shook my head with a weak smile. She saw right through me. “Did you and Ethan have a fight?” I shook my head. We didn’t fight. We didn’t even have disagreements. “That boy is so emotionally stunted. I’ll give him a piece of my mind later.” Hearing the word “stunted” associated with Ethan was almost funny. Before he married me, he was the dream of every werewolf in the territory. He was rich, gorgeous, and a hopeless romantic. I had heard that he once filled the entire pack hall with white roses for the Winter Solstice festival, just because Sarah mentioned she liked white. On New Year’s Eve, he had skipped the pack summit just to set off fireworks outside her window because she was feeling down. Though I received white roses and watched fireworks later in our marriage, I knew they were just leftovers of the love he had once designed for Sarah. My mind was a mess. I had married him, but I had never seen the passionate side of Ethan. As the wind blew through the garden, a sudden realization hit me. It explained my strange behavior since last night. I was terrified. Eleanor set her shears down and looked at me. “Luna Emily, you have been married into this pack for seven years. Do you know what the pack members say about you? They say the Luna is just a pretty ornament. I’m not blaming you, sweetie. But you are the Luna. You have power, and you have responsibilities. You can learn to host the galas, look after the pups, or take your seat in the council room. You don’t need to be a werewolf to prove your worth. You just need to show them you are willing to try.”

I had always been good at waiting. When I was a kid, I waited for someone to adopt me. Later, I waited for the last bus after my part-time shifts. And then, I waited for a husband who never wanted to come home. By habit, I found myself waiting again. Waiting for Ethan and his first love to rekindle their flame. And then, waiting to be rejected. My previous waits were numbing and dull. But this time, I was scared. Sometimes, you just have to be brave once. So, for the first time, I went to Ethan’s office at the Packhouse. On the way there, I practiced my questions a thousand times. “Do you still love Sarah?” “When are you going to reject me?” But I was stopped right at the entrance. The guard gave me a polite but firm smile. “I’m sorry, ma’am. All visitors need to make an appointment a week in advance.” The guard clearly didn’t recognize me. It made sense; most of the guards were on duty elsewhere on our wedding day, and I rarely showed my face at the Packhouse. I wasn’t sure if Ethan wanted the guards to know I was his Luna. I had never visited him here before, so I didn’t push or state my identity. I dialed Ethan’s number. Just as the phone started ringing, I heard his familiar ringtone echoing from the end of the corridor. Ethan was walking at the front of a group. He glanced at his phone, his brow furrowing as if debating whether to answer. I quickly hung up. He didn’t seem to care. He slowed his pace, occasionally turning back to speak to someone behind him. As they walked past, just a few yards away, I finally saw the woman walking beside him. It was Sarah. Time had left no marks on her face. She looked just as pure and beautiful as she did in the photos on Ethan’s old social media posts from eight years ago. She quickened her steps to walk side-by-side with him. Her voice was bright and cheerful. “Oh? You haven’t changed your ringtone after all these years? It’s still my favorite song.” I had heard that back in his rebellious days, Ethan only listened to heavy rock. But Sarah liked soft, classical melodies. Ethan’s taste in music had changed entirely for her. I guess that was the mark love had left on him. Even now, the habit remained. Only after they walked away did the guard speak to me again. “Ma’am, as you can see, the Alpha is busy. If you need something, you can schedule an appointment with the secretary.” I forced a smile. “Thanks. No need.” I felt so exhausted. My eyes stung. I told myself that all I needed was to go home and sleep. But the forum notifications on my phone kept buzzing. “Guess who I just ran into at the Packhouse banquet hall? Ethan and Sarah!” “Oh my god, are they finally back together? The ship is finally sailing!” “@Sarah, spill the tea!” Sarah posted a picture in response. It showed a beautiful window view, a fancy dinner, and a man’s hand resting on the table. His face wasn’t in the frame, but I would recognize those strong, veiny forearms anywhere. She captioned it: “The food here is amazing. Highly recommend.” She didn’t give a direct answer, but the implication was crystal clear. I zoomed in on the photo. Ethan had beautiful hands with distinct knuckles. I had held that hand countless times. I was the one who had slipped the wedding band onto his finger. My eyes locked onto his left hand. His ring finger was bare. He had taken off his wedding ring.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “464066”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On our wedding anniversary, my husband gave my first-class seat to another woman. Ethan Ward was obsessive about time. He had a rule: if any argument lasted more than ten minutes, he would walk away. Not a second longer. But that day, my morning sickness was so bad that I arrived at the gate three minutes late. When I looked up, Ethan had already told the crew to close the cabin door. In first class, Lily Scott was sitting in my seat. This was the fourth time. Whenever I was a step behind, he gave my seat to Lily. The first time, I was held up two extra minutes at security. He took Lily to the Maldives. The second time, my prenatal appointment ran over. Five minutes late. He checked Lily into the spa hotel I had booked. The third time, I was so nauseous my legs gave out. Ninety seconds late coming downstairs. His car pulled away from me with Lily inside. He said: “You’re always late. I can’t leave a seat empty and waste it.” I stood outside the gate, and a tearing pain ripped through my abdomen. My hands shook as I dialed Ethan. Busy signal. Again. Still busy. The third time, the call finally went through. His voice was calm. “Lily’s a little airsick. I can’t step away. Call 911 yourself.” I looked down at the pool of red by my feet and slowly set the phone on the ground. I thought the pain would bring me to my knees, but when your heart truly dies, your body doesn’t collapse. Ethan, since your schedule never has a single minute to wait for me— This time, I’ll be the one who leaves you behind. By the time the ambulance arrived, I could barely form words. The paramedics cut open my blood-soaked pant leg and lifted me onto a stretcher. A nurse gripped my wrist. “How many weeks along? Where’s your family?” “Eleven weeks.” I gasped for air. “My family is on a plane.” “Can we reach the baby’s father?” I closed my eyes. “Don’t bother. He can’t step away.” My phone rang once more. Ethan’s name on the screen. I stared for two seconds, then answered. “Claire, did you call an ambulance?” In the background, Lily’s soft voice floated through. “Ethan, is something wrong with Claire? Should we turn around? I can handle it.” Ethan said flatly: “She’s an expert at making small things into big drama. Just lie down.” Then he asked me: “If the airport medical office can handle it, why did you need to call an ambulance? The plane has already taken off. We’re not turning back for you.” Another wave of cramping seized my abdomen. I bit my lip, waited for the pain to pass, then said: “The doctor says there’s a risk of miscarriage.” Two seconds of silence on the other end. Then he said: “Are you using the baby to guilt-trip me again?” “Claire, you’re the one who was late. If I rearranged everything for you every single time, everyone would think schedules don’t matter.” If this were before, I would have explained. I wasn’t late on purpose. I was in so much pain I couldn’t stand. But now, watching the nurse swap out blood-soaked gauze over and over, I suddenly had no strength left to speak. Lily’s voice came through again. “Ethan, don’t be upset. Pregnant women are emotional. She probably just wants you to comfort her.” Ethan’s voice turned even colder. “I don’t have time for your jealousy. If you’re admitted, keep the receipts. I’ll reimburse you when I’m back. Stop calling. Lily isn’t feeling well and needs rest.” The line went dead. I glanced at the time. Exactly ten minutes. The nurse looked at me, words caught on her tongue. I pressed the phone face-down into my palm. “Could you put it on silent for me?” By the time the examination was over, it was dark outside. The doctor placed the report in front of me. “Threatened miscarriage. You must stay on bed rest. No exertion, no stress.” I asked: “Can the baby be saved?” “There’s still a heartbeat for now, but no one can guarantee anything. You should have family with you tonight.” I shook my head. The doctor frowned. “You can’t be alone. If there’s heavy bleeding, press the call button immediately.” The door opened then. Ethan’s assistant walked in carrying a suitcase. He pulled out a cashmere shawl. “Mr. Ward asked me to bring this over. Ms. Scott left it at the airport. Mr. Ward is worried she’ll be cold on her return flight. He’d like you to wash it and drop it at the dry cleaner’s.” The doctor’s face darkened. “She nearly miscarried, and you people are asking her to deal with this?” The assistant looked embarrassed. “Mr. Ward said his wife usually handles these things. And it needs to be delivered by nine tomorrow morning. Ms. Scott needs it for her return trip.” The assistant’s phone rang. Ethan’s voice came through on speaker. “Did you deliver it?” “Yes. But the doctor says she can’t get out of bed.” His voice shifted toward me. “Claire, stop dragging your feet. Lily’s things can’t be delayed.” I handed the shawl back. “Take it. I have no obligation to look after her belongings.” Ethan’s tone was indifferent. “What’s the fuss now? It’s just a shawl.” I rested my hand on my still-aching belly, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re right. So it won’t matter if it gets lost.” The assistant was about to take the shawl back when a booklet slid from the suitcase. A prenatal record. The name on the cover: Lily Scott. At the bottom, printed clearly— Eight weeks pregnant.

“Lily is pregnant?” I opened the prenatal booklet. Inside was an ultrasound image. The assistant’s face changed. He lunged to grab it. “Ma’am, this is Ms. Scott’s private information.” I looked at him. “Why is her private information in my husband’s suitcase?” “Mr. Ward only accompanied her to an appointment.” The call was still connected. Ethan said coldly: “Lily hasn’t been feeling well lately. I took her to get checked. She’s not married and doesn’t want anyone to know. Keep it to yourself.” I looked at the date on the ultrasound. That day was also the day of my first prenatal appointment. Ethan had promised to go with me. But at the hospital entrance, he suddenly said Lily’s car had broken down and told me to go in alone. I waited in line for four hours by myself. When I came out with my results, his phone was already off. So in that same hospital, he had been with another woman for her appointment the entire time. I asked: “Whose baby is it?” “That’s none of your business.” “You’re my husband.” Ethan’s patience ran out. “Which is exactly why I’m telling you to drop it.” “Claire, you already have a child on the way. There’s no need to be so hostile toward someone who has no one else.” I simply repeated: “Whose baby is it?” Lily sounded like she had just been woken, her voice faint. “Claire, please don’t misunderstand. There’s nothing between Ethan and me. I just didn’t want my family to know, so he’s keeping it quiet for me.” I asked: “Then where’s the father?” She went silent for a moment, then began to cry softly. Ethan immediately lowered his voice to soothe her. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” When he came back on the line, his tone held nothing but irritation. “Are you done interrogating her? She just found out she’s pregnant. She can’t handle the stress.” I looked at the diagnosis sheet by my bed. We were both carrying children, but the way he treated us couldn’t have been more different. Lily furrowed her brow, and he worried about her stress. I lay in a hospital bed bleeding, and all he remembered was to have me wash her shawl. “Ethan, I can’t handle stress either.” “You’re fine, aren’t you?” After those words left his mouth, both ends of the line went quiet. I didn’t argue. This was the first time I hung up on him. Ethan came back the next afternoon. He didn’t come to the hospital first. He took Lily home to rest. At seven in the evening, he finally pushed open the door, carrying a container of takeout congee. “Lily said your appetite’s been bad. She told me to bring this for you.” I glanced at the packaging. Seafood congee. Lily’s favorite. I’m allergic to shrimp. I was his wife. Yet I was never the one he cherished. “Just leave it,” I said, too tired for anything else. He sat on the edge of the bed, studying my face. “What did the doctor say?” “Bed rest to keep the pregnancy.” “There’s a Ward family dinner tomorrow night. We were going to announce your pregnancy. Since you can’t make it, I’ll have Lily attend in your place.” I stared at him. “She’s going to play Mrs. Ward for me?” Ethan tucked the blanket around me, his tone unusually gentle. “She’s just sitting in your seat. Focus on getting better. Don’t get hung up on the small things.” A beat later, he pulled an authorization form from his briefcase. “Sign this. Tomorrow night they’re also unveiling Cloud Cabin. Since you can’t be there, we’ll put Lily’s name as lead designer for now. We’ll change it back after the presentation.” I gripped those pages. Cloud Cabin was my mother’s manuscript. It was the project I had poured two years of my life into completing. “Why can’t you just announce my name?” “If you’re absent from the launch, it shakes investor confidence. Lily presents well, and she can be there on time. She’s more suitable than you.” “It’s my design.” “I know.” He pressed a pen into my hand. “It’s just borrowing her name. Don’t be immature about this.” I pulled my hand away. “I won’t sign.” Ethan’s expression went cold. “Claire, the company isn’t here to indulge your moods. You already disrupted the flight by being late. Lily is willing to clean up your mess, and you’re still making a scene?” He smoothed the authorization form flat again. “Sign it by nine. My assistant will come pick it up.” “And if I don’t?” “All of Cloud Cabin’s development data is at Ward Group. Whether you sign or not, I have the authority to decide who presents it.” He knew exactly how much I had given to this project. My fists clenched, and I finally said the words. “Let’s get divorced.” Ethan looked at me, a hint of derision in his eyes. “Claire, even jealousy has a limit. Don’t push this past the point of no return.” His tone was so certain. Just like every argument before—he was certain I could never leave him. But this time, I was truly done. Too exhausted to even fight him on it.

The door had barely opened when a nurse walked in with lab results. “Are you Claire Ward’s family? Her levels have dropped again. She needs twenty-four-hour monitoring.” Ethan glanced at his watch. “I promised Lily dinner at eight. I can’t be late.” I looked at him and asked one last time: “So she’s more important than me?” “It’s not what you think.” Ethan’s voice went cold. “Lily is punctual. She’s composed. She knows what matters. If her father hadn’t died saving my life, she wouldn’t be alone in this world. When are you going to grow up and be more like her?” With that, he stepped around the nurse and strode out. I had heard this speech many times. Lily’s father had been the Ward family’s pilot. Ten years ago, a mechanical failure mid-flight. He sustained fatal injuries protecting Ethan. From then on, Ethan treated caring for Lily as a debt he owed. She wanted the passenger seat—he made me get out. She wanted a plane ticket—he left me at the airport. She wanted my place—and he called it compensation. Half an hour later, I was transferred from a private room to a six-bed ward. The Ward Group project launch was playing live on the television. Lily stood in front of my cabin design model, wearing my gown. The host smiled and asked: “Ms. Scott, I hear this is a gift you’re preparing for your unborn child?” Lily touched her belly, her smile shy. “You could say that. Ethan helped me revise it many times. He said our baby deserves the safest sky.” Someone in the audience whistled. Someone asked if wedding bells were coming. Ethan didn’t correct them. He simply adjusted the microphone for Lily and said calmly: “Her standing here today is already the best answer.” Applause erupted. Everyone in my ward turned to stare at me. “Isn’t that your husband?” “The one next to him looks more like his wife—she’s even pregnant.” I tried to turn off the television, but my hand was shaking too badly to find the right button. The woman in the next bed switched it off for me and said quietly: “Don’t watch.” A message from Ethan appeared on my phone. “Launch went well. If you’d cooperated, it wouldn’t have gotten this ugly.” Below it was an electronic authorization form. In the signature field, my name was already there. I called him. “Who signed for me? You forged my signature.” His voice was perfectly even. “Schedules can’t stop because of you. Lily only signed on your behalf. Once you’ve calmed down, I’ll have legal handle the paperwork.” My abdomen clenched tight. “Stop the launch. Issue a public correction.” “Do you have any idea how much it would cost Ward Group to stop now?” “That’s my mother’s manuscript.” “Which is exactly why I made it worth more.” He paused, softening his tone. “Stop making a fuss. I’ll come stay with you tonight. Tell my assistant what you want to eat.” A bitter ache filled my chest. He always did this. Thought a scrap of tenderness could erase all the damage. Suddenly, Lily’s gasp came through the phone. “Ethan, I think I felt the baby move!” Ethan’s voice went tense immediately. “You’re only eight weeks. The baby can’t move yet. Are you uncomfortable? I’m taking you to the hospital.” He forgot to even hang up. I listened to his hurried footsteps receding, then set the phone back on the nightstand. A nurse rushed in. “Claire Ward, your contractions are worsening. We need to notify your family member to sign consent forms immediately.” On the other end, a car door slammed shut. Ethan murmured something reassuring to Lily. Then he ended the call. I stared at the darkened screen, my voice perfectly calm. “Let’s change the procedure. Terminate the pregnancy.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260814Xs9HQHqPRy 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni827214”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

My mother, General Victoria Sinclair, is the most prestigious female general. She despises injustice above all else. That is why she has always treated Sienna better than me. Whether it is a diamond necklace or the latest couture gown—everything goes to Sienna. I get one sentence: “She has grace. She deserves nice things. You are coarse. You would only embarrass yourself.” Until tonight. The Caldwell family proposed that Adrian Caldwell and I become engaged. Adrian is the sole heir to the most powerful political dynasty on the Eastern Seaboard. I am my mother’s only biological daughter. Everyone in that ballroom expected her to accept. Instead, she humiliated me in front of three hundred guests. “Absolutely not. Mia is jealous, ill-mannered, and entirely without talent. She is not worthy of Adrian Caldwell.” I fled to the lounge to hide, only to hear my mother say to her adjutant outside the door: “So Mia has feelings for Adrian. If she marries into the Caldwell family, everyone will say I showed favoritism toward my biological daughter. What happens to Sienna then?” “I am protecting Mia from a marriage that does not suit her—and I am protecting Sienna. That is the most just outcome.” My mother has protected her country. Protected her soldiers. Protected countless strangers. She is a hero to everyone. But she has never been mine. So be it. I will leave with the person who actually chooses me. And our relationship as mother and daughter—that ends tonight. Forever. …… When I returned to the ballroom, Margaret Caldwell had not yet given her final answer. My mother continued, “Mia is too competitive. Too petty. She would only bring shame to Adrian’s name.” ” Victoria. Enough.” The interruption came from Helena Blackwood. The Blackwood family is one of the most influential houses in Washington’s military and political circles. “Mia is nothing like you are describing. You know perfectly well that she—” “Helena.” My mother cut her off. “She is my daughter. I know exactly who she is.” She drew Sienna to her side, her eyes brimming with a tenderness I had never seen before. “My niece Sienna is well-mannered and composed. She knows to put family before herself. She and Adrian are a wonderful match.” “I have already instructed my attorneys to prepare the papers to adopt Sienna. In every way that matters, she will be my daughter.” “She is far better suited than Mia.” Her voice was not loud, but it was enough to tear away the last shred of dignity I had left. My head snapped up and I stared at her back. She was not humiliating me to protect me. She was doing it to make room for Sienna. She wanted Sienna to become her daughter—to stand in my place, take my resources, my engagement, everything that should have been mine. And me, her biological daughter? I would get nothing but the reputation she had just destroyed, turned into a laughingstock in every drawing room from Georgetown to McLean. The murmuring around the room swelled. “So the rumors are true. General Sinclair favors her niece.” “If her own mother speaks of her that way, how terrible must the girl be?” Margaret Caldwell frowned. She was silent for a long moment. Then she nodded. ” Given that General Sinclair intends to take Sienna in as her own, she may also be considered a daughter of the Hart family. The Caldwell family will consider her engagement to Adrian.” Sienna pressed down the triumph flickering in her eyes. She lowered her head demurely. “Thank you for this opportunity, Mrs. Caldwell.” “As for Mia—” Margaret’s gaze shifted to me. “Nathan has been working closely with Adrian. He is also unattached. If Mia marries Nathan, the Hart-Caldwell alliance remains intact.” Every eye in the room turned toward me, full of pity and barely concealed amusement. Nathan Caldwell. Everyone knew exactly who he was. Adrian’s cousin. A name synonymous with late-night club scandals, women, car accidents, and a trail of messes the Caldwell PR machine had buried under mountains of settlement money. Sienna got the heir to a political dynasty. Because of my mother’s public evisceration of my character, I was being offered the man who had nothing left but the Caldwell surname. Helena Blackwood stood up abruptly. “Margaret. Who Mia marries should be her own decision.” I rose to my feet. I looked directly at Margaret Caldwell and said, “Thank you for your consideration, Mrs. Caldwell, but I will not marry Nathan Caldwell.”

Back at the Hart estate that night, my mother summoned me to her study. She poured a glass of water and slid it across the desk toward me—a rare gesture that almost passed for maternal. “At least you showed enough judgment in the end to know what not to take from Sienna.” I heard my own voice shake. “You told everyone in that room that I am unstable, troublesome, unworthy of standing beside Adrian Caldwell. By tomorrow morning, all of Washington will know that my own mother thinks I am worthless. ” “Mom—you destroyed me. Did you ever stop to think about what happens to me after this?” Her patience was utterly spent. She looked at me coldly. “Sienna has no mother, no one to rely on. You have the Hart name, you have parents, you have a starting point most people can only dream of. Why must you be so selfish as to fight her for this?” I stared at her, speechless. I live in the rooms Sienna rejected. I use the furniture she no longer wanted. I wear the clothes she dismissed as ugly. What exactly do I have? When I was ten, I heard my mother tell the housekeeper: “Sienna’s got no mother. Take good care of her. Mia can do without.” So, to spare Sienna’s feelings, every birthday gift my father sent home from overseas was handed straight to Sienna. Anything Sienna liked was off-limits to me. On Sienna’s eighteenth birthday, my mother dropped an urgent assignment and rushed back to throw her a grand party. When I turned eighteen, I waited from sunrise until midnight. She never came. She just sent an email: “I’ve got a lot on my plate. Don’t make this hard for me.” That night, I sat alone in the dining room and cried through the night. My mother’s heart held her country, her soldiers, and Sienna—there was no place left for me. My mother sighed. “The Caldwell situation is settled. You turned down Nathan yourself. Stop pining for Adrian.” From inside her blazer, she produced a folded document and slid it across the desk. “I have already selected a match for you. A junior military liaison. Solid, unambitious, no political entanglements. A quiet, stable life. Most people would consider themselves fortunate.” I looked at the paper. Sienna was marrying into the kind of family that gets its own spread in Vanity Fair. And I was being told by my mother that Owen Pierce—a junior liaison no one outside the Pentagon circle had ever heard of—was the best I could hope for. “No. I’m not marrying him.” I threw the paper back across the desk. “Father is still overseas. You can’t force this through without him.” Her hand cracked across my face. I stumbled into the bookshelf, cheek blazing. “We’ll see about that.” Her voice was flat. “The engagement announcement will go out before Jonathan gets back. By the time he lands, it’ll be too late to undo.” Tears spilled from my eyes, and I ran back to my room. Tessa saw my face, her voice breaking as she pressed an ice pack to my swollen cheek. “She hit you? You’re her own daughter. How does she do this to you?” She holding an envelope. “Helena Blackwood’s driver dropped this off.” I tore it open. A ruby brooch slid into my palm—antique, oval-cut, the deep red stone set in platinum with tiny diamonds around the edge. Tucked behind it: a short note in handwriting. “Wait for me. —D” I closed my fingers around the brooch. The following week, every room in the estate overflowed with flowers and engagement preparations for Sienna. Tessa stood at my window, face blotchy with fury. “She emptied the family safe.” Tessa’s voice shook. “Your great-grandmother’s jewelry. The fur coats. The vintage watches. Three cases of it dragged into Sienna’s room. It should all be yours.” Once, that would have destroyed me. Now I barely felt it. The housekeeper appeared at the door. “Miss Hart, the General would like you downstairs.” The moment I stepped through the door, a teacup shattered against the wall inches from my head. My mother roared at me in fury: “Apologize to Sienna. Now!”

I didn’t move. “Apologize for what? I haven’t done anything.” She pointed. Sienna’s engagement gown lay on the floor, ivory silk soaked in black ink. The beadwork was destroyed beyond repair. “You destroyed Sienna’s engagement gown, and you won’t even admit it.” A bitter sound escaped me. “What proof do you have that I did this?” She gestured toward the girl cowering near the floor—Chloe, one of the maids assigned to Sienna. “She saw you. Last night. Near Sienna’s room.” I turned to Chloe. “What time?” “Around nine-thirty, miss.” “Where?” “By the east corridor. Near the garden door.” “What was I wearing?” Chloe swallowed. “A lavender sweater…” Tessa stepped forward, her voice shaking with rage. “The east corridor has no lights after nine. You couldn’t tell lavender from black at that distance. You’re lying.” Chloe crumpled, sobbing. “Forgive me, General! It was me. I spilled the ink. I was terrified, so I—” Sienna shot up and slapped Chloe across the face. “You brainless fool, how dare you frame Mia?” She turned to me and lowered her head. “Mia, I’m so sorry. I should have kept her in line.” My mother waved a hand. “It was a misunderstanding. Sienna apologized. We’re done here.” “No.” I frowned. “I never did what she accused me of, yet she wanted me punished. If she walks away without consequences, what’s to stop anyone else from doing the same?” My mother’s face froze, and it hit me—she knew. She knew Chloe was lying, and she was going to bury it to protect Sienna. She looked at me, her eyes filled with reproach. “No real harm was done. You’ve been cleared. Stop blowing this out of proportion.” I looked at her without flinching. “If I were the one who broke it, would you still call it a small thing?” She frowned at me, as if looking at a disobedient child. “Chloe is dismissed. Effective immediately. Legal will handle the non-disclosure and she’ll be blacklisted from the industry.” “Are you satisfied now?” Chloe sobbed as security escorted her out. Sienna stood frozen, chewing her lip. Then my mother spoke again. “The gown is destroyed, and there’s no time to have another made. Your grandmother’s vintage Valentino—give it to Sienna.” The air left my lungs. That gown was the last thing my grandmother ever gave me. “No.” My voice broke. “Chloe made the mistake. Chloe works for Sienna. Why am I the one paying for it?” “Sienna is marrying Adrian Caldwell. The press will be at the engagement events. She needs to look impeccable.” My mother’s voice was utterly matter-of-fact. “You’re marrying Owen Pierce. He can only afford a simple, modest wedding. What do you need a couture gown for?” “I don’t know what your father was thinking, leaving something this fine to you instead of Sienna.” Something inside me snapped. I cried out at her: “He gave it to me because he knows who his daughter is. You never did. Sometimes I wish you weren’t my mother! At least then I wouldn’t have to be hurt like this!” Her face went white. The coldness that followed was worse than the slap. “Enough. Perhaps I should teach you how to be a daughter. Especially my daughter.” Tessa threw herself forward. “General, please. Miss Mia gets sick every winter. She’s frail. She can’t take—” “Frail?” My mother’s voice climbed with incredulous fury. “She’s grown up in one of the wealthiest households in this country. Top private doctors. A personal nutritionist. Organic everything delivered weekly. What possible frailty?” A bitter sound escaped me. The private doctors all went to Sienna. The nutritionist was hired specifically for her. Every tutor brought into this house taught Sienna alone—I wasn’t even allowed to sit in on the lessons. What had I ever actually been given? My laughter pushed my mother past the edge. She had me taken to the punishment room, forced down onto my knees in the middle of the floor, and then she produced a leather whip. The way the military disciplined soldiers who stepped out of line—that was how she disciplined me. The whip cut through the air and came down hard across my back. The pain drove straight through me. She didn’t stop. One lash after another. My mouth filled with blood; I had long since bitten through my lip. The skin on my back split open. Blood ran down my sides. My shirt was soaked through, and the pain slowly went numb—as if it wasn’t landing on me at all, but on someone else entirely. By the time my vision went completely black, I dimly heard her say: “Mia, this time I hope you finally recognize what you’ve done wrong.” I closed my eyes. But Mom—my greatest mistake was ever wanting your love. After tonight, I owe you nothing. And I don’t love you anymore.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260814uRC9QQjVGH 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni187161”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

After I slapped my Mafia husband’s mistress, he locked my entire family in an asylum. I never dared to fight him again after that. When Bianca had cramps, I made her tea. When Bianca went into labor, I stayed up all night at her bedside. I waited until her baby was a month old before I dared to ask him, quietly, to let my family go. Dante just smirked. “Ellie. You want to know how I really met Bianca?” “Your loving father and your loving brother put her in my bed themselves.” “She’s your half-sister, Ellie.” He watched the color drain from my face. Then he slid his phone across the table. “Your father and your brother were never in that asylum. They’ve been with Bianca. All three years.” On the screen, my father and my brother were huddled around Bianca and the baby, smiling. Smiling in a way I’d never seen. Not once. Not for me. My eyes burn. Something rips open in my chest. Dante kept going, like he was doing me a favor. “You’ve been a good girl these three years, Ellie. Keep it up. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” “Though…” His smile turned strange. “Even if I offered, you wouldn’t take a thing. Would you?” I wiped my face. Lifted my chin. Smiled. “Fine, Dante. Then give me a hundred million dollars.” I don’t want any of them anymore. Not the husband. Not the father. Not the brother. — Dante froze. Just for a second. “Say that again.” I looked him dead in the eye. “You said you’d make it up to me. So pay me. A hundred million. Not a dollar less.” His eyes went cold. Then he let out a dry laugh and turned to the phone on the table. “Bianca. Looks like neither of us called it right.” The screen had switched to a video call. I didn’t even see when. Bianca was smiling. Watching me. Enjoying every second. “Ellie, sweetie. We had a bet. What you’d ask for once you found out.” “I said you’d refuse the money and trash Dante’s office. He bet you’d use it to trap him. No divorce. Ever.” “Dad thought you’d make Dante throw me out. Leo thought you’d hurt yourself again to guilt him into staying.” She turned the camera. My father was holding Bianca’s baby, glowing. The second he saw me, every trace of that smile died. “Elena. I can’t believe you. Asking Dante for money?” “Did this family ever let you go hungry? Ever? What are you now — some cheap gold-digger? No better than the whores on the street.” My brother stroked Bianca’s hair. Soft. Fond. Then he turned to the camera, and his face went blank. “Elena. I know you’re upset.” “If you need money, come to me. But you don’t ask Dante. Not for this.” “Bianca and Dante love each other. They don’t owe you anything.” “Is that so?” I cut him off. My eyes were burning. “He stole my husband. You stole my father. You stole my brother. You stole my whole life.” “You played me for three years. Turned me into her personal maid.” “And you’re telling me nobody owes me a damn thing?” Leo frowned. “Elena. Watch your mouth.” “We weren’t trying to hurt you. You’ve always been stubborn. If we’d told you the truth, you never would’ve accepted Bianca.” “She’s been struggling since the baby came. Postpartum. The bet was just a joke to cheer her up. Don’t take it personally.” I pulled the corner of my mouth up. “Fine. Then pay me.” “Fifty million from Dad. Thirty from you. I’ll keep playing house. Keep babysitting Bianca. Deal?” Leo went white with rage. “Elena. How long are you going to keep this up?” “It’s spare change,” I said, cold. “Don’t tell me the Moretti empire can’t cover a favor for the Rossis.” “Enough.” “You want money? Fine.” Dante shot me a look and pulled a document from the drawer. “Bianca gave me a son. No child of mine is going to be a bastard. Sign the papers. The hundred million hits your account tonight.” I looked at those thin pages. I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the pen and signed.

Something shifted in Dante’s face. “You really care about money that much? You were never like this…” I swallowed the burn in my throat and forced out a careless smile. “If I don’t take the money, what else are you offering me?” He stared. Those dark eyes went bottomless. “Maybe you could beg me not to divorce you.” “Say the word, Ellie. I’ll rip this contract right now.” Beg him. I bit down on my lip until it bled. I remembered the months right after I first found out about him and Bianca. I begged him a hundred times. I slit my wrists once, just to make him come home. I bled all over the bathroom floor. And all he said was: “Don’t do that again. Bianca faints at the sight of blood.” “And then what?” I looked at him. Calm. Bitter. “Then you tell me this was another bet. Another way to laugh at me.” I let out a broken little laugh. My throat burned. “Dante. Stop testing me.” “Haven’t you played with me enough?” Something cold slid down my cheek. Three years of tears. Finally spilling. Dante lifted his hand. Wiped my face. His eyes flickered — but not with guilt. With irritation. Like a wife crying was one more thing he had to manage. He sighed. “Bianca gave me a son. She’s young. A little spoiled. You’re the older one. Cut her some slack.” “You’re still Mrs. Moretti. Marrying Bianca is just paperwork. Just to put my name on the birth certificate.” He paused. Softer. “You’ll still get the hundred million. Take it. Travel. Have fun. Once I clean things up here, we’ll get remarried.” “That works for you, right?” I lifted my face and smiled. Made a small sound of agreement. “Then book me a ticket to Switzerland. You promised me once. We were going to see Lake Como together.” He let out a breath he’d been holding. Pulled me in tight. “Okay.” “Go ahead. When this is done, I’ll meet you there.” “Wait for me, Ellie.” I rested my head against his shoulder. I didn’t say anything. Because I already knew. I wasn’t waiting. Once he was sure I’d caved, he spoke again. “Give me the keys to the house. You’ll need to move out for a while.” “Bianca’s moving in. You know she’s been fragile since the baby. Pack your things up clean. Don’t leave anything behind that upsets her.” “The place is getting old anyway. Don’t fight her over it.” He cleared his throat. Slid a new set of keys and a deed from the drawer. “I bought you a new place on the south side of the city. Move your stuff there.” I said nothing. But I remembered the day we bought that house. We designed every room together. Picked out the curtains, the artwork by the front door. We agreed on two nurseries — one pink, one blue. He called it our nest. He carved a plaque with his own hands and hung it on the front gate. Dante & Elle. Later, he spent his nights with Bianca in his office. And I lost our baby, alone, in that empty house. I smiled. I put the keys in his hand. “It’s fine.” “A new place is better.” From now on, everything I own is going to be new. Not just the house. — I left the Moretti tower and drove straight to the asylum. For three years, I’d pushed open that door a hundred times. Cried until I passed out over the “father” and “brother” who were just pretending to lie there catatonic in those beds. But nobody knew — in that place, I’d met someone else. I pushed open a different door. Sunlight poured through the window. A boy sat on the sill, staring at the sky. Sharp features. Cold, wild eyes. Blond streaks in his hair where the sun caught it. If any reporter had seen him, they’d have recognized him instantly. The youngest son of the Vane Syndicate — the family that ran shipping and arms across half the world. The kid the tabloids said had been locked away for a breakdown. I spoke softly. “I have the money now. I’m taking you home.” Dante has no idea. I’m not going to Switzerland. I’m going to Sicily.

When I got back to the house to pack, the maid gave me a strange look. Opened her mouth. Closed it. I frowned and walked into the living room. Then I saw why. My things were dumped across the floor like garbage. And Bianca was walking down the staircase in a white wedding gown. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. I couldn’t stop staring. She lifted the hem and gave me a sweet little smile. “Sis. Isn’t this the dress Dante designed for you? Back then?” “He said I could have it. Said you wouldn’t mind.” “He said you’re too out of shape now to fit into it. Said the dress got lucky, ending up with me.” She lifted the skirt and spun. “How does it look, sis? Do I wear it well?” The white silk shimmered under the chandelier. Bianca was glowing. Radiant. Cruel. Years ago, Dante stayed up three nights straight sketching that dress. The first time I put it on, he told me: “One of a kind, Ellie. For the only girl in the world.” His words. Still ringing. His heart. Long gone. Bianca didn’t get it. I was walking away from Dante himself. What did a dress mean now? I smiled. My fist slowly loosened. “Bianca. Nobody ever teach you? You want somebody’s stuff, you pay for it.” “That dress is worth thirty million. I want it wired to my account by tonight.” Her face snapped. “You bitch. You stole Dante from me. You stole my family for years. And now you want money?” She raised her hand and lunged. But the dress was too heavy. I stepped aside. Her own train tangled her legs. She hit the floor hard. My father and brother came flying down the stairs. “Bianca! What happened?” Leo whipped around. Furious. “Elena. Did you just put your hands on her?” I didn’t even get a word out. A palm cracked across my face. Half my face went numb, then burned. I stared at my father. I couldn’t believe it. His face was red. His voice was steel. “I know you’re angry. I know you never accepted Bianca. But she just had a baby. She’s still weak. And you *hit* her?” Bianca sniffled from the floor. “Dad, don’t be mad at her. It’s not her fault. She said the dress costs thirty million. Without the money, I don’t get to wear it. I don’t have that kind of cash. She didn’t mean to push me.” She lifted those big wet eyes. “It’s my fault, Dad. I don’t have the money. Dad, Leo — if we pay her, will she forgive me?” My father exploded. “Bianca, you’re too kind. Pay her? Not a chance. I should’ve known. She’s just like her mother. A greedy bitch. Always was.” Something inside me went cold. My hand went to my cheek. I couldn’t stop staring at him. Twenty years of playing the loving father. The mask was falling off, piece by piece. Leo caught his arm before he could swing again. “Dad. Stop.” For half a breath, I felt something stupid. Hope. Then he spoke. “Push her too hard, she’ll show up at Bianca’s wedding to cause a scene. She likes money? Give it to her. Throwing change to a beggar.” He pulled a black card out of his pocket and threw it at my feet. His voice was thick with disgust. “There’s over thirty million on that card. Enough?” “Take it and get out. Don’t show your face near Bianca again. Don’t ruin our lives.” I looked down at the black card. His personal card. The one I used to bring him coffee with. The last thread inside me — the one still tied to them — finally snapped. I bent down. Picked up the card. Smiled like it meant nothing. I looked at the mess of my belongings on the floor. I didn’t want any of it. “Since you’re paying so generously, Leo — deal. All this is yours.” I looked him dead in the eye. “You’ve got a new daughter and a new sister now. This old one won’t be in your way anymore.” “After today, I don’t know any of you.” I dug my passport out of the pile and turned to leave. “Wait —”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260814dQWHN3Jnxi 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni385116”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

The giant projector screen blares my falsified medical lab results dead-center during my wedding reception, and the entire ballroom erupts in screaming chaos before I can even process what’s happening. Ezra Carter hurls my engagement ring hard at my chest. It bounces off my white lace wedding gown and clatters across the marble floor. “You’re a used trash girl who aborted a kid years ago, and you thought you’d lock down a Carter marriage?” He snarls loud enough for every guest to hear. “Your Hale family’s corporate merger funding deal is dead. You all watch your company tank tomorrow.” My birth parents’ faces bleach pure white. Chloe Hale, their beloved adopted daughter, steps forward with glistening fake tears streaking her cheeks. “Sage, how could you lie to Mom, Dad, and Ezra?” Her voice cracks, perfectly staged pity dripping off every syllable. “You ran wild alone for years after Mom and Dad found you again—how could you drag the whole Hale name down with your reckless choices?” “I didn’t do any of this. That lab report’s fabricated.” My voice stays flat, calm, no tremor. Ezra sneers right in my face. “A filthy girl like you doesn’t deserve a Carter last name. I call this engagement off for good. Either you get the hell out of this venue and let Chloe take your spot as my fiancée, or the Hale Group files Chapter 7 bankruptcy by sunrise. Choose.” Chloe latches onto Ezra’s suit sleeve, then twists back toward my parents with that mournful act cranked higher. “Mom, Dad, don’t let Sage ruin everything. I’ll marry Ezra instead of her. I’ll fix the funding deal, I’ll save our company—just send Sage somewhere to lay low until Ezra cools off.” Whispers roar through the crowd nonstop. I catch every cutting comment clear as day. “She only reunited with the Hales three years back, spent all her youth running loose—who knows what messes she got tangled in.” “The Hales tried to pawn a damaged girl off for corporate cash. Disgusting.” Ezra slams a fist on the head table. “Make your choice fast. I won’t wait all night.” Chloe’s eyes flash quiet victory beneath her teary mask as she begs my parents to cast me aside. Their gazes turn ice-cold when they land on me. “Sage, you’ve disappointed us beyond repair. The Hale household doesn’t claim you anymore.” I cling to one last shred of hope, glancing between them. “Just send me for a second independent lab test to prove this is fake—” “Quit embarrassing us further! Get out!” Dad shouts over the crowd noise. Three years ago, they tracked me down, pulled me away from the quiet life I built with Jesse, swore they’d make up for all the lost years and love me properly. But every single time Chloe set me up with lies, broke her own things and framed me, or staged falls to fake injury, they picked her side without a single question. This night’s no different. I yank the silk veil off my head and drop it at their feet. “Fine. From this second on, I cut all ties with the Hale family permanently.” Late autumn rain slams down out of nowhere, frigid wind biting through my thin wedding dress. I stand alone at a bus stop, clutching a crumpled photo of Jesse pressed tight to my chest. “Old man, you begged me to give this family a real shot after you passed. I tried. They don’t love me at all.” Jesse was a retired Marine combat vet who raised me for two decades, drilled hand-to-hand combat into my bones. I fought off street thugs, violent deadbeat contractors withholding pay, even worked high-risk private security bodyguard shifts to cover his cancer medical bills. For three years back with the Hales, I followed Jesse’s dying wish, toned down every sharp edge, acted docile and soft-mannered to fit their wealthy socialite mold. I never called Chloe out on any of her manipulative schemes, all to honor his last request. Now I’m outcast with nothing, no roof, no family, no safety net. “Guess I don’t have to fake being a tame debutante anymore, memorize useless fancy etiquette rules for rich snobs.” I fold Jesse’s photo back into my jacket pocket and glance up at a taped flyer plastered to the bus stop billboard. [URGENT Nanny / Step-Mother Wanted for 6-Year-Old Boy. Live-in, $50k Monthly Salary. Must handle extreme stress, unshakable mental fortitude. Warning: Minor physical injury possible on the job.] I rip the paper free, a sharp, amused smirk tugging my lips. “Perfect match. This job’s tailor-made for my skill set.”

I drive straight to the gated waterfront Rossi estate address printed on the flyer that same afternoon. A stoic head butler waits at the front marble doorway, scanning my wedding-stained dress with a skeptical frown. “You’re the applicant for the boy’s caretaker position?” I nod once, no extra pleasantries. “Step inside. Forewarning—Master Jude’s temperament is volatile. He has to take a genuine liking to you to stay employed.” He steps aside to let me cross the foyer. “Dozens of women have applied before you, none lasted more than three full days. Mr. Rossi’s orders: only staff who survive three days get a formal audience with him and a long-term employment contract.” Confidence settles steady in my bones. The hardships I endured growing up with Jesse, every brutal fight, every penny scraped together for medical bills, all beat dealing with a moody six-year-old boy by a mile. I round the grand staircase and spot him instantly. Jude’s dressed in a tiny tailored black three-piece suit, sharp delicate features, but a cold, lonely edge no kid his age should carry. “Hello, Miss. I brought you a gift.” He holds out a wrapped velvet box, wide innocent eyes masking whatever trick he’s cooked up. The butler staggers backward a full step, panic flooding his face. “Thank you so much, baby.” I take the box and flip the lid open without hesitation. A massive hairy tarantula leaps straight for my face the second the box opens. The butler yelps and collapses onto the marble floor, hands flying to cover his eyes. I pinch the tarantula gently between two fingers, turning it over to examine its abdomen with genuine curiosity. “Wow, great size on this girl. You’ve been feeding her really well. This gift’s my favorite welcome present ever—thank you, Jude.” Jude’s cocky smug expression crumples into pure shock. He blinks hard, voice tight with disbelief. “You’re not scared at all?” I grew up off-grid in a remote cabin with Jesse. Snakes, lizards, spiders, wild amphibians—none of them rattle me in the slightest. “This is your first gift to me, of course I love it. No way I’d be frightened.” I place the tarantula back inside its velvet box, then reach out to curl my hand around his tiny palm. “C’mon. We can grab a glass terrarium to house her together. I can walk you through her molting cycle—they’re super fragile during that phase, I’ll teach you all the care tricks.” His cheeks flush bright red, and he yanks his hand free instantly. “I don’t need help taking care of my pets!” He storms a few steps up the staircase, then twists back to glance over his shoulder at me. “The terrarium room’s on the second floor. Follow me if you want.” He leads me to a closed bedroom door, shoving it open to reveal walls lined floor-to-ceiling with sealed glass enclosures. Geckos, horned frogs, monitor lizards, every cold-blooded creature labeled with handwritten feeding schedules taped to each tank. “Your collection?” I ask quietly. He nods. “Butler helps with feeding sometimes. They never yell or lie to me. They keep me company all day.” A sharp twinge of sympathy twists my chest. I set the tarantula tank down on an empty shelf, then drop to my knees and wrap my arms lightly around his small frame. “Jude, my name’s Sage. Starting today, I’ll stay right here with you.” His whole body stiffens, then he wriggles free of my hug and bolts toward the door. “I don’t need anyone hanging around me! I’m a tough guy, I handle everything alone.” I stay kneeled on the carpet, watching the tips of his ears burn bright red, and smile softly. That night, a brutal thunderstorm rips through the neighborhood, lightning splitting the sky every few seconds. I get up to lock the floor-to-ceiling windows and hear glass shattering from Jude’s bedroom next door. I burst through his door without knocking. A broken desk lamp lies shattered on the rug, and Jude curls tight against the bed frame, clutching a throw pillow to his chest, skin pale as chalk from terror. When he sees me, he snatches a ceramic vase off his nightstand and hurls it straight at my head. “Get out of my room! Who said you could barge in?” This kid puts on such a tough front, but thunderstorms terrify him to his core. I catch the flying vase mid-air with one hand, then cross the room in two strides and slip under his duvet, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I’m terrified of thunderstorms too. Can I crash here with you just tonight? Please?”

Jude’s small frame goes rigid under the covers, but a faint flicker of quiet relief softens his sharp little glare. “Fine. Only tonight, since storms freak you out. Don’t get used to sharing my bed.” Classic stubborn little tsundere kid. “Thank you, Jude. The thunder’s making it impossible to sleep—can you read me a bedtime story to calm me down?” I grab a fairy tale hardcover off his nightstand and press it into his hands. He rolls his eyes dramatically. “You’re way too old for storybooks, that’s embarrassing.” Even so, he accepts the book, flips to the first page, and clears his throat to read aloud. Within ten minutes his voice grows softer and slower, the book slipping loose from his fingers as he drifts asleep mid-paragraph. I tuck the duvet snug around his shoulders and pull him close to my chest, letting both of us pass out through the rest of the storm. Early the next morning, the butler knocks the bedroom door open with a breakfast tray balanced in his hands. He freezes, tray nearly slipping from his grip, eyes blown wide. “Master Jude never lets any stranger cross his bedroom threshold, let alone sleep beside him—this is unheard of.” Jude blinks awake slowly, rubbing sleep crust out of his eyes, rushing to defend our shared bed. “She’s the one scared of thunder last night. I let her crash here, that’s all.” The butler stares at me like I’m some kind of miracle, rushing off to deliver a full report to Kai Rossi immediately. I stretch my arms out, reaching to help Jude pull on his tiny suit jacket. He twists away fast, cheeks flaming. “I dress myself! Don’t think this little stunt makes you special. All the other women who applied only care about my dad’s fortune anyway.” I hold back a quiet laugh. I absolutely took this job for the massive paycheck—nothing more, nothing less. We head down to the formal dining room for breakfast, and that’s when I lay eyes on the infamous Kai Rossi for the first time. Now I fully understand Jude’s comment about gold-digging applicants. Sharp sculpted jaw, icy dark eyes, tailored black designer suit, the cold, untouchable head of the entire East Coast Rossi crime syndicate with a legitimate multi-billion dollar finance empire front. Every single socialite in Manhattan would kill to lock him down. Kai sets his morning newspaper flat on the tabletop, those piercing dark eyes locking directly onto my face without breaking contact. “You’re the new caretaker. Name?” “Sage Voss.” His fingers pause mid-tug on his suit jacket’s button, leaning back slow against his leather dining chair. “Butler says Jude’s taken a strong liking to you. If my son accepts you fully, we sign a civil marriage license per the employment contract—your monthly salary doubles after that. One rule to drill into your head: look after Jude properly, and cut out any greedy ulterior motives targeting me.” “Understood, Mr. Rossi.” Jude marches out of the kitchen carrying a covered ceramic plate, sliding it onto the table directly in front of me with a deceptively sweet smile. “I made you breakfast all by myself. Hope you love it.” The butler’s eyes bug out, rapidly shooting panicked side glances in my direction. I lift the plate’s lid off. Two slices of sourdough sandwich bread sandwich a thick clump of dark green caterpillar paste, with a plump live caterpillar wriggling dead center on top. “Homemade protein sandwich. You aren’t gonna turn it down, right?” Jude challenges, eyes sharp with expectation. I pick up the whole sandwich and take a huge bite, chewing thoroughly before swallowing without a single flinch. “Tastes solid. Only complaint’s the caterpillar’s a little small. Back when I lived off-grid, I pan-fried way bigger caterpillars for dinner all the time.” Jude’s cocky scheming face drops completely, stunned silent. Off to my side, Kai’s mouth twitches upward in a faint, barely noticeable smile. “Looks like your little prank didn’t land this time.” He lifts his espresso mug, voice low and calm. Jude’s face burns scarlet, jumping down off his dining chair and sprinting out the back door in frustration. I grab his canvas backpack and chase after him. “Wait up—I’ll drive you to private school!” Kai’s gaze tracks my retreating figure across the lawn, his cold expression melting into tangled, aching longing. He murmurs quiet enough only he hears the words. “Sage… you really don’t remember a single thing about us.”

I walk two hundred yards from Jude’s private school gate when my cell rings, the school administrator’s harsh tone crackling through the speaker. “Are you Jude Rossi’s guardian? He assaulted another student. Come to the principal’s office immediately.” I hang up, a faint weight settling in my chest. I got into constant fights as a kid too, and every time Jesse got called in, he’d bow his head and beg forgiveness for my outbursts. This sharp little boy shares my hot temper. Worst case, I’ll write a settlement check—his dad owns half the city’s banks, cash’s never an issue. I step into the office and spot Jude standing stiff next to a chubby boy with only a tiny scrape across his cheekbone. I blink once, unimpressed. “That’s all the damage?” The principal glares hard at me, offended by my lack of panic. “Jude attacked this child and refuses to apologize. You need to discipline him severely.” I tilt my head, unyielding. “A tiny surface scrape from two kids roughhousing isn’t worth a formal parent conference. Boys fight all the time over trivial stuff.” Jude’s rigid shoulders relax, his wide eyes locked on me in pure shock. The chubby kid’s mother surges forward, finger jabbing straight at my face, voice shrill with rage. “What kind of woman raises such a violent, ill-mannered brat? No wonder he’s got no mother figure around to teach him respect!” Cold rage floods my veins. One sharp kick sends the plastic visitor chair beside me splintering into broken shards on the linoleum floor. “Do not speak about my kid like that. Jude never throws a punch unless someone crosses a line first. Now tell your son to explain exactly what happened.” Every person in the room freezes rigid. The little boy’s lip trembles, and he bursts into loud sobs. “He called Jude a motherless stray… everyone in class teases him about it.” I turn to the furious woman, tone flat and unforgiving. “You heard him. Your son threw the first insult. Jude only defended himself—you ought to thank him for not hurting your child worse.” She yanks her crying son forward, forcing a rushed apology. I glance down at Jude. “You still acted out of line. Say sorry for hitting him.” Jude blinks, confused. “Why? He insulted me first.” “He called you motherless, but you have me. Don’t waste your energy fighting over empty words.” Jude’s eyes glisten with emotion, his head drooping slightly. “I’m sorry I hit you.” The chubby boy grins, grabbing Jude’s wrist in awe. “Your mom knows how to fight! I wish my guardian was this cool.” Jude tugs my hand, and we walk out to the black town car waiting curbside. He mumbles quietly, cheeks flushed pink. “You’re nothing like the other women who applied.” My mood lifts instantly. “Does that mean you accept me as your stepmom now?” “All the others screamed at my reptiles, and they always assumed I was the troublemaker before asking questions. You protected me without hesitation. Thank you.” My heart softens completely. “Then call me mom, yeah?” His neck flushes bright red. He stares hard out the passenger window, silent for a long beat. I signal the driver to pull away, ready to drop the subject. “Mom.” The soft word floats off his lips, reflected clearly in the car’s tinted glass. I wrap my arms tight around him, warm joy bubbling up inside me. “Baby, you’re such a sweet kid.” Jude squirms against my hug, too embarrassed to reply.

I carry Jude into the villa entryway, and Kai nearly spills his black espresso all over his tailored suit. He composes himself fast, masking his shock behind a cold, neutral expression. “Jude clearly trusts you fully. Head to the city clerk’s office tomorrow morning to file our marriage papers per the contract.” “Understood, Mr. Rossi.” I lift Jude higher in my arms, pausing at the staircase landing to glance back over my shoulder. “Quick question—our monthly salary doubles once we’re legally married, right?” A faint, hidden smile tugs the corner of Kai’s mouth. “That’s the clause we agreed on.” Relief floods my chest. Ten grand each month is life-changing money. The next day, we exit the municipal clerk building holding a crisp official marriage certificate, and I can’t stop grinning. Kai sits beside me in the town car, his gaze drifting to my reflection in the car window, a quiet happy smile playing across his face that he thinks I won’t notice. Months slip by after we file the license, and I settle into a steady routine with Jude. He’s transformed entirely—once quiet, lonely, and bitter, now he laughs constantly and begs for my attention every single day. He refuses to sleep alone through thunderstorms anymore, demands bedtime stories every night, begs me to teach him hand-to-hand combat, and drags me to climb estate trees, splash each other in the garden fountain, and feed every lizard and tarantula in his collection together. The estate butler watches our chaotic daily antics with a weary fond grin. “Master Jude has never laughed half this much in all seven years of his life. You two match perfectly, like you were always meant to be together.” Kai also changes drastically. He used to leave the mansion before sunrise and return long after midnight, buried under syndicate and corporate work. Now he sits at every single family breakfast, lunch, and dinner without fail. On weekends, he drives us to high-end supermarkets, amusement parks, and aquariums, pushing back dozens of critical business meetings just to tag along. The butler pulled me aside one afternoon to whisper a secret. “Mr. Rossi canceled more board meetings these past few months than he skipped in the entire six years before Jude was born combined.” I brush the comment off casually. “He neglected his son for half a decade. He’s just making up for lost time.” A week later, I take Jude shopping in a luxury downtown mall—and run straight into Chloe and Ezra. Chloe’s stomach bulges with her pregnancy, and she smirks when she spots me, voice dripping with mocking disdain. “Sage? You left the Hale family just to become a live-in maid? How utterly humiliating for our family name.” Ezra wraps an arm around her waist, his eyes sliding judgmentally over Jude’s designer clothes. “Chloe’s due in two months, and she’ll need someone to handle newborn care full-time. Word on the street claims you can’t have children of your own. Instead of tending to a stranger’s boy, come work for us as a live-in maternity nurse—at least you’ll get to pretend you have a kid of your own.” Jude’s jaw tightens, ready to snap back, but I place a hand on his shoulder to hold him quiet. I level a sharp glare at the pair. “Your mouths reek so bad I’m shocked you didn’t brush your teeth before leaving the house. Have some decency for your unborn child and stop spewing garbage. I know you forged that fake medical report to ruin my wedding day, Chloe.” “You two schemed to destroy my life for wealth and status. Don’t act like you hold any moral high ground. Scum belongs with scum.” Ezra lifts his palm to strike me, but I twist his wrist hard with one sharp motion. A sick pop echoes through the mall corridor, and he screams in excruciating pain. “Sage! How dare you hurt Ezra!” Chloe shrieks. I wipe my palms clean of invisible dust, cold and unyielding. “If either of you harass me or my kid again, I’ll lay both of you flat. I held back all those years only out of respect for Jesse’s memory—no more mercy from now on.” I grab Jude’s hand and walk away, Ezra’s furious shouts echoing behind us. “I’ll track down every detail of your new job! I’ll make sure every high-society venue in Manhattan blacklists you for good!” That evening inside Kai’s private study, his lead assistant lays a full incident report across the mahogany desk. “Boss, Mrs. Voss-Rossi ran into Ezra Carter and Chloe Hale at the mall today. Ezra attempted to strike her; she dislocated his wrist. Before leaving, Ezra swore he’d ruin her reputation across the city.” Kai closes the file, his tone icy and lethal. “Let him dig all he wants. Send formal gala invitations for Jude’s seventh birthday charity ball to both the Hale and Carter families. I’ll publicly reveal Sage’s official identity as my wife in front of every elite socialite and mafia affiliate in New York that night.” “Every humiliation Sage endured at their hands these past three years— I’ll repay every last ounce of it.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260814O1seZUEPqH 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni705462”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

This was the thirty-third time my fiancé Ethan had left me alone in the bridal shop because of his stepsister Jessica. Every single time we scheduled a wedding photo shoot, Ethan would find some excuse not to show up. I called to ask why. His tone was dismissive. “Jessica wanted to travel. I’m already in Miami with her. There’s really no way I can come back. We’ll deal with the wedding photos next month.” Jessica snatched the phone. “You’re calling to bother us over something this trivial? It’s not like this is the first time you’ve missed a shoot. You should be used to it by now.” This time, I didn’t take off the wedding dress and slink away. Instead, I smiled and dialed Ethan’s best friend. “Vincent, if you can get to the bridal shop in five minutes, I’ll marry you.” …… By the time the shoot was finished, it was already evening. I changed out of the gown and settled into the lounge area, leaving a quick five-star review for the shop on Instagram. The post had barely gone up when Ethan’s number flashed on my screen. But the voice on the other end was Jessica’s, dripping with affected sweetness: “Olivia, taking wedding photos all by yourself and posting about it? Doesn’t that feel lonely?” I leaned back against the sofa. “Not as lonely as you.” “My post went up less than ten seconds ago, and here you are calling. Watching my Instagram like a hawk, lurking on every single one of my accounts like a little mouse—who’s the lonely one here?” Jessica’s composure shattered. “I wasn’t stalking you! I just happened to see it!” I couldn’t be bothered to keep talking to her. I hung up. Shortly after, a string of texts from Ethan rolled in. 【Olivia, do you have any idea how hard Jessica is to calm down?】 【She called you because she cares about you. Why did you have to snap at her? When are you going to fix that temper of yours?】 I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened Instagram and made another post. The caption was simple: *My fiancé and I are having our wedding this weekend. All friends welcome.* The comments section exploded. 【Oh my God, Olivia, you and Ethan are finally getting married? Congratulations!】 【I thought you two broke up ages ago. You’re really doing it? I’ll be there this weekend for sure!】 【New York’s most beautiful bride is finally walking down the aisle. Ethan really waited for this day.】 I was about to reply when Ethan’s comment appeared right at the top. 【Olivia, have you lost your mind? I’m still in Miami with Jessica. There’s no way I can make it back to New York for a wedding this weekend. Can you stop making decisions on your own?】 【Delete this right now and tell everyone you made it up, before you embarrass yourself.】 I ignored Ethan’s orders. Because my wedding no longer required him as the groom.

What I hadn’t expected was that Ethan would buy a last-minute red-eye flight back. Jessica came with him. At two in the morning, Ethan threw open the front door, seething. Jessica’s eyes were swollen and red. The moment she saw me, she started in with her grievances. “Happy now, Olivia? Ethan and I finally get a chance to unwind, and you have to pull this fake wedding stunt and force us to fly back in the middle of the night.” “You completely ruined my Miami trip!” I glanced at Ethan, then at her. My voice was calm. “Nobody asked you to come back.” Ethan’s voice was sharp with anger. “Olivia, I came back to talk to you like a reasonable person. Delete that post. I’m not ready to marry you yet. Just wait a little longer.” My answer was simple. “No.” Ethan took a deep breath. “Olivia, how long are you going to keep this up?” “Everyone is watching. Do you realize you’re forcing me into this?” Jessica scoffed. “Ethan, she’s obviously doing this to pressure you into marrying her so she can keep you away from me.” Then she turned to me. “Ethan and I are just siblings. It’s not what you think. You’re the one with the dirty mind, seeing something wrong everywhere. Delete that post now.” I didn’t acknowledge her. I looked at Ethan and said the same two words: “Not deleting.” Ethan laughed bitterly. “Fine. Then I won’t show up to the wedding either. You’ll be standing there with no groom. The one who’ll look like a fool is you, not me.” I smiled. “Whether you show up or not doesn’t matter. You’ve been absent from my life for a long time already, haven’t you? You’ve poured all your time and energy into Jessica. And I, your fiancée, had to wait thirty-three times just to take wedding photos with you.” “Ethan, who exactly is your fiancée?” Ethan frowned, as if I were being completely unreasonable. “Olivia, do you really have to put it so harshly?” “Jessica isn’t an outsider.” “She’s my stepsister.” “She’s important to me. We’ve known each other for years. She depends on me, and I take care of her. What’s wrong with that?” I smiled. Over the past eight years, Jessica would call him in the middle of the night, saying she couldn’t sleep. Ethan would leave me without hesitation and drive over to keep her company. In the beginning, he’d still feel guilty. He’d hold me and say she just lacked a sense of security. But as time went on, they grew more and more brazen. Whenever Jessica needed anything, Ethan would cancel every plan he had with me to be with her. And if I so much as expressed displeasure, I became the unreasonable one—immature, graceless, not generous enough. I looked up at Ethan. “So in your eyes, she can take up your time whenever she wants, interrupt every date we have—” “And I, as your fiancée, don’t even have the right to mind. Is that it?” Ethan softened his tone. “Olivia, I know you want to marry me as soon as possible.” “But I really don’t like this side of you. You used to be so easygoing, so reasonable. Why do you have to push me like this now?” I looked down at Jessica’s arm hooked through his. Her body was practically pressed against him, and Ethan made no effort whatsoever to put distance between them. I couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh. “Ethan, you have absolutely no sense of boundaries.” “Is Jessica your stepsister or your lover?” Jessica’s tears appeared on cue. “Olivia, you’re insane! There is nothing between Ethan and me! Why do you keep making these disgusting assumptions about us!” Ethan wrapped his arm around Jessica’s shoulders and wiped her tears for her. “Olivia, apologize to Jessica. Right now.” I found it absurd. “Apologize for what?” Ethan erupted. “You made Jessica cry! Of course you need to apologize!” Just then, Vincent strolled in, fashionably late. Ethan did a double take. “What are you doing at my place in the middle of the night?” Vincent glanced at me. “I’m here to help Olivia move out.” Ethan blinked, then visibly relaxed. A smug, knowing expression spread across his face. “Thanks, Vincent, but it’s really not that serious. Olivia and I are just having a little couple’s spat.” His tone was dripping with self-satisfied understanding. “Actually, do me a favor and talk some sense into her.” “Tell her to grow up and stop doing things that only embarrass herself.” Then he looked down at Jessica in his arms, his voice going soft immediately. “I need to take Jessica to a hotel first.” “She took a red-eye to get back here. She’s exhausted.” Vincent lowered his head and smiled—a smile loaded with meaning. “Sure. Leave everything here to me.”

With Vincent’s help, I moved out that very night. When Ethan discovered I was gone, the messages started pouring in. 【I know you’re upset, but you really can’t pressure me like this. Marriage is a big deal. You just announce a wedding out of nowhere—I’m not mentally prepared for that.】 【Olivia, it’s not that I don’t want to marry you, but now really isn’t a good time. Jessica hasn’t been doing well lately and she needs me around. Can’t you just wait a little longer?】 【Olivia, I’m serious. I’m not ready for marriage at all. Pushing me like this is only going to make me resent you.】 And so it went, all the way until the day before the wedding. I didn’t reply to a single message. But that evening, Jessica sent me a video. I tapped it open. The screen first showed a lavish hotel suite. The lighting was dim. White sheets lay tangled across the bed. A champagne flute on the nightstand was still half full. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the midnight ocean of Miami stretched into darkness. The camera panned slowly. Ethan appeared in the frame. He sat on the sofa, shirt collar hanging open, hair falling across his forehead in disarray. Jessica was curled against his chest, wearing a thin-strapped slip dress, her body draped over him like silk. She looked drunk—but the eyes that met the camera were perfectly lucid. She reached up deliberately, hooked a finger around Ethan’s tie, and pulled him toward her, inch by inch. Ethan didn’t resist. His hand rested on her waist. Jessica tilted her face up and kissed him on the lips. The frame held for two seconds. Then she looked straight into the camera. The corner of her mouth curled into the smile of a victor. The video ended there. Her call came in right after. “Did you watch it? Ethan’s cheating on you. If even that isn’t enough to make you cancel the wedding, then you really are something else.” “If I were you, I’d be dead from rage by now. You’d fit right into the Victorian era—the kind of devoted wife who watches her husband hold another woman and keeps smiling through it all.” My voice didn’t waver. “Still better than being the mistress who never gets a ring.” Jessica hung up in a fury. On the day of the wedding, I was already in my gown. Guests filed in one after another, offering their congratulations. I smiled and thanked each of them. Ethan walked in wearing a tracksuit. When he saw me, a flash of genuine awe passed through his eyes. “I’ll give you this—you picked a beautiful dress on your own.” But within seconds, Jessica appeared at his side in a formal gown, hooking her arm through his. Her makeup was immaculate. She wore a pale pink dress. The guests exchanged bewildered glances. A few seconds later, murmurs rippled through the room. “Isn’t that the groom? Why isn’t he in a tux?” “Who’s that woman with him? Why is she on his arm?” “This is Olivia’s wedding, isn’t it? Why did Ethan bring another woman?” A fiancé in athletic wear with another woman on his arm, while the bride stood alone in her wedding dress on the opposite side of the room—no matter how you looked at it, something was off. Ethan ignored the questioning stares and launched into his stiff explanation. “Let me make one thing clear. There’s nothing going on between me and Jessica.” “That video you saw of us looking intimate—we staged the whole thing. We just wanted you to call off the wedding. Didn’t expect you’d actually go through with it.” Jessica nodded beside him, her voice saccharine-sweet—a completely different person from the venom of the night before. “That’s right, Olivia. The whole thing was my idea. I just wanted to test how much you really care about Ethan.” “The fact that you watched that video and those photos without even flinching—your devotion to Ethan is truly admirable.” I looked at the two of them and smiled faintly. “I don’t care what you do anymore.” Ethan sensed something was off. A flicker of panic crossed his face. “Jessica is my stepsister. Just like Vincent is my friend. They’re both important people in my life.” “You can’t marry me and then demand I ignore my stepsister’s feelings. I told you, Jessica hasn’t been well lately. I need to spend more time with her. Can’t we just postpone the wedding instead of canceling it?” “You know how much I value relationships.” “Family, friendship—they all matter to me.” “I can’t just abandon my stepsister because I’m getting married.” I looked at his open, guileless expression and couldn’t help but point something out. “Ethan.” “You keep saying family is important. Friends are important.” “But haven’t you noticed that your most important friend isn’t by your side today?” “Take a guess where he’s going to show up.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/202608149beEcq4DXT 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni692115”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

The day before Valentine’s, my boyfriend told me he had a three-day work trip to New Orleans. I offered to come along, but he said: “It’s a company project. Bringing you wouldn’t be appropriate.” The very next day, I saw Chloe—my best friend—post on Instagram: a nighttime shot of St. Louis Cathedral. The caption read: “NOLA is stunning. Thanks Ethan, for showing me these lights tonight.” I called him. He picked up right away. In the background, Chloe’s flirty voice chimed in, “Ethan, this skewer of shrimp is for you.” My voice went hoarse. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a work trip alone?” He answered lightly. “Oh, Chloe wanted to get out for a bit, so I brought her along. It’s on the way anyway.” “The company’s covering it. It’s just one extra hotel room.” After I hung up, Chloe posted another Story. She and Ethan at the French Market, each holding a Cajun shrimp skewer, both beaming. It wasn’t until the evening of the third day that I finally got a message from Ethan. “Nora, I’m coming back tomorrow. Want anything as a souvenir?” I stared at my screen. Chloe had just posted her eighth New Orleans location tag. The caption read: “Third trip with Ethan. Perfect.” I typed slowly: “No need. Just have fun.” He replied instantly: “You’re so understanding. I’ll take you next time.” I didn’t respond. Because I knew—there wouldn’t be a next time. … That night, when Ethan came home, he brought Chloe through the door with him. I was sitting on the couch, lights off, just sitting there. The door opened, and Chloe’s laughter poured in first. “Nora!” She had her arm hooked through Ethan’s, the other hand hauling two stuffed paper bags. “We brought back so much for you!” Ethan changed his shoes, glanced my way, tone casual: “Chloe’s place is out of the way. She’ll stay in the guest room tonight, just make do.” I looked at him. He’d already hung up his coat and was leaning down to take the paper bags from Chloe, setting them on the table. Chloe unpacked everything one by one—pralines, beignet mix, a bottle of Cajun spice, a limited-edition mini Tabasco. And a tote bag printed with the wrought-iron balconies of the French Quarter. “Come on, Nora, sit over here!” She patted the couch, and once I moved over, she launched into stories about NOLA. “Did you know, the moment they lit up Jackson Square at night, I just froze.” “Ethan was right there next to me. I told him I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life!” “She stood there for a good twenty minutes. I couldn’t pull her away.” Ethan chimed in, a smile at the corner of his mouth. “And then Bourbon Street!” Chloe turned to him. “Ethan, how many oysters did you have that night?” “A dozen.” “Right! A whole dozen! I told him, you can really eat—” The two of them chatted and laughed. I couldn’t get a word in. Not that anyone cared whether I could. I suddenly remembered a week ago, when I’d leaned over the desk and shown Ethan my Valentine’s Day plans on my phone. I’d looked up a couple’s restaurant in advance. He’d pulled me close then, resting his chin on top of my head, and said: “Valentine’s is just us two. Nobody’s gonna get in the way.” Valentine’s was here now. So this was his idea of nobody getting in the way? “Nora?” Chloe called. She switched topics, now telling me about a vintage photo studio in the French Quarter, how Ethan had picked out a cream-colored Southern-belle gown for her, and how passersby had stopped to take pictures when she tried it on. “Ethan said I looked like I’d stepped out of an old movie. Isn’t he too sweet?” Ethan lowered his head and laughed, not denying it. I looked away and stared at the pile of stuff on the table. Their laughter filled the whole living room. I sat at the end of the couch like a decoration someone had put in the wrong place. Ethan must have noticed how quiet I’d gotten. He casually pulled a few items toward me and said: “These are for you. Picked them out just for you. Don’t overthink it, alright? I was just bringing her along for a change of scene. You get it, right?” I looked down at the items. A bottle of Tabasco, a bag of pecan candies, and a box of cookies with a crushed corner. Picked out just for me, he said. Get it. I rolled the phrase around silently, didn’t say it out loud. Then I got up and walked toward the bedroom. Neither of them noticed. They kept laughing in the living room. I closed the bedroom door behind me. The sounds outside didn’t disappear, just got a little quieter. Ethan’s backpack was slung over the back of a chair. I bumped it when I shut the door. The zipper hadn’t been closed properly. A lipstick rolled out and landed on the floor. I bent down to pick it up. Strawberry flavored. Not my shade. I peered inside the bag and saw a Polaroid. Bourbon Street. A whole neon-lit wall as the backdrop. Ethan on the right. Chloe leaning sideways against him. His hand on her shoulder. Both of them laughing. Underneath was a hotel receipt. Yeah. One room. I put everything back, closed the bag, and looked out the window. Out in the living room, Chloe was asking Ethan what building was printed on the tote bag. He was explaining, she was laughing. Their voices sounded close enough to be in the same room with me. I didn’t sleep that night. At three in the morning, I opened my phone and pulled up an email I’d left sitting for two months. It was from my advisor in Paris, inviting me to a three-year research program in France. The last time I’d opened it was one evening when Ethan was propped up in bed watching a show. I’d hesitated for a long time, snuck a glance at him, and finally closed it. Back then, I couldn’t bear to leave him. Now, I opened the reply box: “Professor Laurent, I’m confirming my acceptance of the research position. Please advise on the next steps.”

The next day, I was woken by noise from the kitchen. I opened the bedroom door and saw Chloe standing at the stove, wearing Ethan’s oversized gray loungewear, frying eggs. She pressed down on the yolk with the spatula, tilted her head, and asked Ethan: “You like them sunny-side up, right?” Ethan was leaning against the cabinet next to the stove, looking down at her: “Sunny-side up. Good memory.” “Of course.” Chloe shot him a coy look. “I remember everything about you.” I walked over and sat down at the table. It was already set. Ethan came over carrying two cups, set one in front of Chloe and pushed the other toward me. I glanced down. Iced Americano. No sugar, no milk. But I liked mine sweet. I didn’t drink black coffee. The one who drank unsweetened black coffee was Chloe. At the table, Chloe spoke up. “Nora, I just broke up with someone, and it’s too depressing to be home. Mind if I stay here a few more days?” “You guys have plenty of space. I’ll just tuck into a corner, I won’t be in the way.” Before I could open my mouth, Ethan answered: “Stay as long as you want. You and Nora are best friends. Better here than out at some hotel—I’d feel more at ease.” So Chloe moved in. That night, Ethan said he had a work dinner. He left with Chloe, the two of them laughing on their way downstairs. I stood on the balcony and watched them walk away. The last thing I saw was Ethan reaching up to smooth her wind-blown hair back into place. I turned my phone face-down on the balcony railing and closed my eyes for a moment. Around ten that night, the lock clicked. I was sitting on the couch. Chloe came in first, makeup still on, laughing as she stepped inside: “Nora, you’re still up?” The first thing I noticed was the necklace on her throat. Tiffany. Heart-shaped pendant. Rose gold chain. Catching my gaze, she smiled: “Ethan said this style suits me. You don’t mind, do you?” I didn’t say anything. Late that night, lying in bed, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I nudged Ethan beside me. He put his phone down. “What?” “That necklace,” I said. “It’s the Valentine’s Day limited edition, isn’t it?” He paused. “It’s just the regular one.” “I looked it up,” I said, looking at him. He was silent for a beat, then let out a sigh, set his glass on the nightstand, and gave me that all-too-familiar expression. Not guilt. Impatience. “Nora, just say what you want to say.” “Chloe is living in our home, wearing my clothes, using my things.” I laid it out one line at a time. “She’s rearranged our décor, she’s wearing the limited-edition necklace you gave her for Valentine’s. Do you think this is normal?” “She just went through a breakup.” He frowned. “And isn’t she your best friend? What’s wrong with me looking out for her a bit more?” “Looking out for her?” I repeated. “Is that what this is called? I’m your girlfriend!” “Can you not blow this out of proportion?” He waved his hand, like he was brushing off an annoyance. “Chloe is a friend. I’m just being a little more attentive to her, and you have to make that face. Do you have any idea how ugly you look right now?” “She’s the one who broke up. You’ve got nothing wrong with your life, what are you being so petty about?” Just then, the bedroom door opened. Chloe walked in, looked at the two of us, and pulled on a pained expression: “Is this because of me… Nora, I’ll go stay at a hotel. I don’t want you two to fight over—” “No need,” Ethan said, turning around, his tone instantly softening. “Don’t overthink it. Nora’s just a little tired, she’s always like this. Don’t take it to heart.” Chloe glanced at me. The glance lasted a second, but I saw it clearly. Not apology. Satisfaction. “You’re overreacting,” Ethan said finally. “You’re being so immature.” I didn’t say another word. I got up, went to the study, sat down at the desk, and read through the program materials from Paris again. Out in the living room, Chloe was comforting Ethan: “Nora’s probably just been under a lot of stress lately. Don’t take it to heart.” He said, “I know. Don’t feel bad.” I closed the calendar. Half a month left.

The next day, mutual friends invited us out to dinner. Knowing I wouldn’t see them for three years, I agreed. By the time I got there after work, almost everyone had arrived. I pushed the door of the private room open and immediately saw Ethan and Chloe sitting side by side. Chloe waved me over. I ignored her and grabbed a seat wherever. Before the food even came, Chloe started intercepting Ethan’s drinks. A guy across the table egged him on: “Ethan, come on, one drink.” She took the glass. “Ethan’s not drinking tonight. I’ll cover for him.” She tipped her head back, downed it, and flashed the guy a smile. Ethan leaned toward her and murmured something. She shook her head, then picked up her fork, cut a piece of salmon, trimmed off the edges, and placed it on his plate. Intercepting drinks. Sharing food. Whispering. Every glance was on him. Maya sat next to me, quietly poked my arm, and gestured toward them with her eyes. I said, “It’s fine. Just eat.” It was raining when the gathering ended. I hadn’t brought an umbrella. Before leaving, I mentioned it to Ethan. He was bent over his phone, hailing an Uber for Chloe. Didn’t even look up. “Mm, call one yourself. I’ll wait with Chloe—I wouldn’t feel right leaving her.” The rain wasn’t heavy, but the Uber’s location glitched twice, traffic was terrible, and by the time I got home I was soaked through. Ethan and Chloe still weren’t back. That night, I took my temperature: 102 degrees. I texted Ethan: “I have a fever. Can you grab me a box of Tylenol from the CVS downstairs on your way back?” Half an hour later, he replied: “Chlo’s not doing great emotionally tonight, I’m going to sit by the river with her for a bit. If you’re feeling really bad, just Uber yourself to urgent care. Don’t tough it out.” I stared at those lines for a long time. He was sitting by the Charles River with her, letting the wind blow through her hair. I put my phone down, grabbed my coat, went downstairs, called a car, and took myself to the nearest urgent care. While I was waiting for my number to be called, Chloe posted an Instagram Story. The photo was the Charles River at night, two trendy coffees perched on the railing, Ethan holding one. Only his profile was in the frame. Wind lifted his hair a little. Lights and water in the background. The caption read: “The night wind is so strong. Thanks for being with me.” I turned my phone face-down on my knee. Urgent care had the AC blasting. I wrapped my coat tight, listened to the nurse call numbers, my mind blank. Early the next morning, I opened my laptop. I’d downloaded the school’s academic leave application form two weeks ago and left it sitting in a folder untouched. I filled it out, attached a copy of Professor Laurent’s invitation letter, and sent it to the department. I’d only chosen this program to stay in Boston. Ethan was here. Every plan I had revolved around this one person. Now I was cutting my last reason loose. The department sent back a confirmation. I cc’d my advisor. Then I opened the email thread from Paris and looked over the flight information again. Two weeks. Then Paris. I saved a screenshot of the itinerary, shut the laptop, and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. In the living room, Chloe was on the couch scrolling Instagram. Ethan sat next to her. They were debating where to go for the weekend. I walked past them with my glass, went back into the study, and closed the door behind me. Soon enough, I wouldn’t have to see them anymore.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260814VEBUKD7k1w 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni383505”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

On my wedding day, I walked my blind father down the aisle of the church, and the entire sanctuary suddenly erupted in laughter. Dad tightened his grip on my hand, nervous. “Claire… did Dad embarrass you?” I quickly lifted the lace veil from my face and turned toward the projection screen behind the altar. That was when I finally saw it. A single, bright red USDA pork inspection stamp had been slapped onto each of our faces. From the bridesmaids’ bench, my best friend Bianca Whitmore was doubled over laughing. “Oh my God, Claire, you two are adorable. You look like two little pigs that just rolled off the slaughterhouse conveyor belt.” My fiancé, Nolan Ashford, laughed and pulled a folded check from the inside pocket of his tux, handing it to her. “A bet’s a bet. You win. She really didn’t notice a thing all the way to the altar.” So it was another bet. Back in college, they’d bet on whether I’d actually eat the cereal they’d swapped out for dog kibble. On my birthday, they’d bet how long it would take me to open the gift box stuffed with Monopoly money. And this time. They’d made my blind father a chip in the game too. Nolan held out his hand, coaxing me like a child. “Sweetheart, everyone’s watching. Let’s just finish the ceremony.” I looked at him, then at Dad standing beside me, disoriented, still not understanding what had happened. This time, I wasn’t going to swallow it. … “Claire, why’d you stop? Are you mad?” When I didn’t answer, Bianca picked up two flutes of champagne and stepped down from the bridesmaids’ bench. She pressed one of them straight into my father’s hand. “Mr. Sutton, it was just a little joke to lighten the mood. You’re too much of a gentleman to take something like that to heart, right?” Dad couldn’t see the ridiculous red stamp on his own face. He accepted the flute awkwardly and tipped his head back, draining it in one go. “Of course not. It’s Claire’s wedding. As long as everyone’s having a good time…” He didn’t finish. His body suddenly folded forward, and he started dry-heaving violently. Bianca clapped her hands and laughed out loud. “Nolan honey, you lose again!” “I told you a blind man’s sense of smell isn’t that sharp.” “I literally squeezed half a tube of septic-tank slug juice into that glass, and Mr. Sutton chugged it!” Laughter and camera shutters exploded all around us. Nolan’s face did tighten. But not because my father had just been publicly humiliated. Because his wedding had gone off script. I watched Dad forcing himself to endure it, that meek little smile on his face. I couldn’t listen to another second of it. “Nolan Ashford, the wedding is off.” I steadied my father, who was swaying on his feet. “Dad, we’re leaving.” Nolan finally panicked. He rushed down from the altar and caught my wrist, lowering his voice. “Claire, Bianca takes jokes too far, I know. I’ll make her apologize to your father myself, later.” “Every guest in this church is staring at us. Don’t blow this up any bigger.” I shook his hand off and walked straight for the church doors without looking back. Bianca’s voice drifted after me, wounded in exactly the right pitch. “Claire Sutton, it was just a joke. Are you seriously doing this?” … Mass General. The emergency room. A nurse worked over our faces with alcohol wipes, one careful pass at a time. I could guess when it had happened. Before the ceremony, Bianca had insisted on doing our “touch-ups.” My face had foundation on it, and once it was wiped away, only a few faint pink marks remained. Dad’s face wouldn’t come clean, no matter what she tried. The skin had already scrubbed raw and red, and yet he was the one smiling at me, trying to comfort me. “It’s okay, Claire. Walking around with a mark on my face isn’t the end of the world.” “Dad just made trouble for you again. Because of me, you didn’t even get your wedding…” I lowered my head. My throat was too tight to say a word. How could I blame him. It was Nolan and Bianca who had always treated me like a chip at their table. Like the summer after graduation, when the three of us had planned to go skydiving together. They’d coaxed me into jumping first. Then they’d stayed in the cabin, filming me at my worst, betting on whether I’d cry from sheer humiliation the moment my feet hit the ground. But this time, they had no right to make my father a punchline in their game. I opened my phone. The college group chat was already blowing up. 【Bianca is a legend, I peed a little laughing, two little pigs 💀】 【Claire is being SO dramatic though?? She really called off her own wedding in front of everyone???】 【Guys don’t forget, Nolan only confessed to her back in the day because he bet Bianca he could pull the scholarship kid.】 【And she said yes on the spot and followed him around for five years like a puppy. I can’t 😭】 I stared at the messages scrolling past. So that was it. Even the first “I love you” of this entire relationship had just been a bet. It was over. 【Ding.】 A new email pushed through. Munich Ophthalmology Institute. Dad’s surgery had finally been scheduled. At last, I could take him and leave.

After I got Dad settled in his hospital room, Nolan finally messaged me. His tone had already slid back into its familiar gentleness. 【Claire, today was on us, I know. But you also overreacted, just a little.】 【I already booked our honeymoon flights. Aspen. I’m taking you to see the snow you’ve always wanted to see.】 I stared at the screen, and my mind ran back through every single time before this. Every time Bianca had used me as the punchline of a bet, Nolan had come around afterward to apologize. He said Bianca didn’t mean it. He said he’d never wanted to hurt me. He said I was too sensitive, too fragile. I had believed him for five years. I had swallowed it for five years. But I get cold easily. What I wanted was somewhere warm. I had told him. For our honeymoon, I wanted the Amalfi Coast. Aspen was where Bianca had been begging to go. Sure enough, the next message came right after. 【Bianca’s coming with us, more the merrier.】 I didn’t reply. I called an Uber back to the apartment. Before I left, all I wanted was Dad’s medical file and my own passport. The moment I pushed the door open, a burst of confetti exploded over my head. “Surprise! Claire, happy birthday!” The living room was packed with our college friends. Nolan and Bianca stood at the center, pushing a tiered cake between them. “Claire, the wedding was our fault.” Nolan’s voice was soft. “This cake is my way of making it up to you. Don’t be mad anymore, okay?” But today wasn’t my birthday. My birthday was this same date, next month. Five years together, and Nolan had gotten it wrong every single year. The crowd cheered, urging me to cut the cake. I wasn’t in the mood. I sidestepped everyone and headed for the bedroom to grab my things. Bianca cut in front of me first. She scooped a dollop of frosting off the cake with her finger and lifted it to my lips, smiling sweetly. “Come on, Claire, just a taste. I made this for you myself.” I didn’t have time to pull back. The frosting smeared hard across my mouth. An off, foul taste flooded my tongue, and my throat began to tighten almost instantly. I looked down, eyes wide. Deep inside the exposed layer of the cake, several dark red things were slowly writhing. Leeches. The one thing that could actually kill me. I’d been severely allergic to them since childhood. A single contact could send me into shock. Nolan knew. His brow finally furrowed. “Bianca, this stake might be a little far this time.” Bianca just pursed her lips, unbothered. “I don’t care. She ate it, didn’t she? That new Porsche of yours is mine.” Nolan could see I was already struggling to breathe, and he reached out to steady me. “Claire, let me get you to the ER.” But Bianca suddenly clamped down on my arm. “Claire, you barely got any of it. It can’t be that bad, can it…” “Are you still holding a grudge about the church?” Her nails dug into my skin. My breathing was getting worse. I ripped my arm out of her grip on instinct. Bianca stumbled back. The back of her hand caught the metal edge of the cake cart, opening a thin red scratch. “Bianca!” Nolan let go of me instantly and rushed over. The others swarmed in around her, panicked. Nobody noticed I could barely stand. I made it into the bedroom on unsteady legs and started stuffing what I needed into a bag, piece by piece. Voices drifted through the door. “Honestly, Nolan’s the one who’s actually into Bianca.” “Do you remember, years ago, Bianca dared him he wouldn’t hike the White Mountains ridge alone. He actually went, in the middle of a storm. Nearly died…” A bet. The White Mountains. My fingers snapped tight around Dad’s medical file. The date of injury written inside was five years ago, exactly, on the day Nolan had gone up alone. That day, he had been caught in a landslide. My father, a park ranger for White Mountain National Forest, had been the first to go in after him. Dad had pulled Nolan out of the rubble. And then a second wave of rocks had come down and struck him on the back of the head. Permanent damage to the optic nerve. He had never seen anything again. For five years, Nolan had told me it was an accident. But it turned out. The whole thing had started because of a throwaway dare between him and Bianca. Everything my father had lost, an entire world, had been the price of paying off their little wager. I picked up my bag with unsteady hands and stepped out of the bedroom. Nolan was bent over Bianca, murmuring to her. He heard me and turned, frowning. “Claire, it’s the middle of the night. Where do you think you’re going with a bag?” “We fly to Aspen for our honeymoon first thing in the morning. You really have to pick now to throw a fit?” I didn’t dignify it with an answer. I walked straight for the door. Behind me, Bianca’s voice carried that perfect note of triumph. “Nolan honey, I’ll bet you, she can’t keep this tantrum up for even a day.” “By tomorrow morning at the airport, she’ll be right behind us like a good girl.”

After I left, someone dropped a video from the party into the group chat. Bianca was clearly drunk in it, cheeks flushed pink. “Nolan Ashford, you’ve lost three rounds in a row now. You have to be my husband for a whole month!” Nolan gave a helpless laugh and nodded, agreeing. The rest of them started chanting. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The video cut off there. I spent the entire night being resuscitated in the ER. Morning. At my bedside, Dad was gripping my hand hard, his unseeing eyes rimmed red from staying up. “Claire, you scared Dad to death… The doctor said ten more minutes and you wouldn’t have made it.” I didn’t say a word about the truth of the night before. I only told him I’d eaten something bad and it triggered an allergic reaction. Nolan hadn’t called once the entire night. He’d sent two flat, hollow voice memos in the early hours of the morning. 【Claire, did you end up in the ER?】 【Don’t be mad anymore. I’ll come by first thing tomorrow to check on you and Dad.】 Dad heard the voice memo notifications and his face brightened at once. “Nolan’s coming to see you? Are you two making up?” “He’s a good boy. When I brought him down from that mountain, he got on his knees and swore to me he’d take care of you.” Yes. Nolan had made that promise, right in front of my father. That he would take care of me. But for five years, he had let Bianca use me as her toy at the gaming table over and over. Dad reached for his white cane and insisted on going downstairs to wait. Nothing I said would stop him. Two hours passed. I stood at the hospital-room window and looked down at Boston’s cold morning wind, and at Dad’s hunched figure, standing on his white cane, waiting. Nolan didn’t come. Bianca, however, had posted a new Instagram Story. In the photo, Nolan was sitting at her family’s dining table, sipping coffee with her parents, all of them laughing. The caption read. 【My dad said he missed Nolan. He dropped everything and came right over. 🥰】 Looking down at that hunched silhouette on the sidewalk, my nose stung. Nolan didn’t finally arrive until the afternoon. Bianca was trailing right behind him. “Mr. Sutton, Nolan brought me to come see you.” She smiled and pressed two ivory-colored official folders into Dad’s hands together. “This is our marriage certificate. Feel the cover.” Dad’s rough fingertips traced the embossed gold lettering, and his eyes filled instantly. “Good… good… Claire finally got to marry Nolan…” He couldn’t see. He thought it was my marriage certificate and Nolan’s. But I could see it perfectly clearly. Inside the folder were the names Nolan Ashford and Bianca Whitmore. Date of registration: this morning. Nolan caught the look on my face and grabbed my wrist, dragging me out into the hallway. “Claire, don’t spiral on me.” “I only went to City Hall with Bianca because I lost the bet. Her parents have been pushing her to get married, and I was just going along with it to make them happy.” “We’ll be divorced in a month. Then you and I can go get our own license, okay?” He treated marriage like a party game. And he treated me like a fool. I looked at him and, all of a sudden, I didn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore. “Nolan, we’re done.” He blinked, brows pulling together. “Claire Sutton, we already had the wedding. This is just paperwork.” “Can you please not blow every little thing up like this?” The door to the hospital room opened. Bianca leaned out, pouting. “Nolan honey, we still have to go pick up honeymoon stuff. The stores will close if we’re any later.” Nolan called back over his shoulder. Bianca smiled and looped her arm through his, and the two of them disappeared down the corridor. I walked back into the room, ready to make up some excuse. But I found tears streaming from Dad’s lightless eyes. “Claire, don’t hide it from Dad anymore… I heard everything.” “Leave him. We’re not putting up with this.” I fought down the burning in my throat and nodded, hard. That night, Nolan sent me a message. 【Nine a.m. flight tomorrow, headed for Aspen.】 【Come on your own. And stop with the theatrics.】 I didn’t reply. I opened the airline’s website and booked two one-way tickets overseas. Boston to Munich. Lufthansa Flight 423. Departure: eight a.m. the next morning.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260814C4UnAFkYTk 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni429045”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

Ten years after the Moretti family cast me out, my older sister, Alessia, found me in the slums. I stood there in a threadbare coat, three children clustered around me. To my surprise, Alessia’s eyes reddened. “Vivienne, didn’t you always hate children? Wasn’t taking over the family the only thing you cared about?” I took a bite of stale bread, scooped the smallest child up from the muddy ground, and waved the other two inside. Isabella blocked the doorway, her arm linked through Lucian’s. She spoke as casually as if none of this concerned me. “Vivienne, I was the one who begged Dad to have the doctor drug your wine. And Lucian was the one who gave a rival family your license plate and your route.” “If you hadn’t taken my place in that car, I would have been the one killed in the explosion.” She leaned into Lucian’s arms and smiled sweetly. “Thank you. Truly.” Lucian—my former fiancé—looked down at her without a flicker of emotion, as though he had not personally sent me into an ambush ten years ago. Alessia’s voice turned cold. “When Isabella first came back, you refused to surrender your place as the Moretti heir. You even ordered the guards to keep her out of a family council meeting. She was shot outside because of you.” “Taking one hit for her was nothing more than repayment.” Isabella shrugged. “I’ve already forgiven you, Vivienne. We came to bring you home to the Moretti estate.” Her gaze slid past me to the three children. “But these children are beneath us. Keeping them would only disgrace our family.” “Get rid of all three.” I stared at her. “All three?” The boy crouched on the steps, playing with a folding knife, was Matteo—the sole heir to the De Luca family, which had ruled Sicily’s underworld for nearly a century. The silent boy by the door was Ethan, heir to the Kane family, which controlled the East Coast’s ports and arms-trafficking routes. And the sleepy little girl in my arms was Sofia—the only daughter of Don Valenti, the man every crime family in New York answered to. “You’ll be better off without them,” Isabella said. When I finally reacted, she smiled. Her bodyguards stepped forward, surrounded me and the children, and drew their guns. I pulled the child farthest away behind me and let out a quiet breath. Sofia, above all, could not be harmed. Her father had barely managed to save his only daughter during an internal family revolt. “What is it? Can’t let go?” Lucian’s eyes were icy. “Vivienne, do you really expect to drag three burdens back to the Moretti estate?” Matteo’s eyes flashed. He jabbed a finger at Lucian. “What are you, blind? You think I’m a burden?” “I wouldn’t join your pathetic family if you begged me.” I frowned and covered his mouth before he could say anything worse. That boy had the sharpest tongue of the three. “Embarrassed?” Isabella’s eyes curved with amusement. “Lucian doesn’t even mind that you had children with another man. He’s still willing to let you come home.” She made the offer sound like an act of unimaginable mercy. “I’m not going back.” They all froze. Alessia’s face darkened. “Ten years away, and you’ve forgotten how to behave?” I nodded. Ten years was long enough to let go of everything I had once cared about. “Do it,” Lucian said coldly. “Don’t tell me you’ve actually grown attached to three nameless little bastards.” He looked at the children as though they were filth in his way. “They aren’t mine.” I tightened my arms around Sofia. “But you can’t touch them. None of you can afford the consequences.” What difference would returning to the Moretti family make? Couldn’t he see that none of these children looked afraid of him? Lucian sneered and lifted one hand. One of his guards fired toward the doorway. The bullet grazed the wall and shattered a metal tag hanging from the frame. My heart dropped. Before Alessia could move, I shoved Sofia toward the house, kicked a length of pipe off the ground, and sent it crashing into the nearest man’s wrist. His gun fell. I ripped the knife from my sleeve and lunged for Isabella. She clearly had not expected me to strike first. Her smile froze. The blade stopped half an inch from her throat when Alessia seized my wrist and slammed me into the crumbling wall. “How dare you!” My back hit hard. An old injury tore open, and the taste of blood filled my mouth. But I did not stop. I gritted my teeth and came at Isabella again. My blade sliced through her sleeve and forced her to stumble backward. A second later, Lucian fired at the ground by my feet. Stone exploded upward. My knees gave out, and I dropped hard into the dirt. “Vivienne!” Alessia shouted furiously. “You dare attack Isabella?” I braced a hand on the ground and slowly looked up. “She wants those children dead. Why shouldn’t I come for her?” The bullet that had shattered the metal tag had scraped Sofia’s waist, exposing a crest set with black obsidian beneath it. Sofia went pale. Her eyes filled as she threw herself back into my arms, trembling violently. I held her tight, my heart sinking lower by the second. “Lucian.” I tore the tag from Sofia’s waist and held it up. “Recognize this?” Black obsidian. A gold crown entwined with a serpent. The Valenti family crest. Isabella’s eyes widened in disbelief. But Lucian raised his hand again, his expression hardening. “You think a forged crest is enough to fool me?” Matteo reached into his boot and pulled out a silver badge. “My father is Don Marco De Luca. If you want to kill someone, come for me.” Isabella flicked her hand dismissively. One of the guards knocked the badge away. “Did Vivienne prepare that story and those props too?”

I pulled Matteo behind me, retrieved the silver badge, and pressed it back into his hand. Then I checked Sofia’s damaged crest. Only after I was sure she was frightened but unharmed did my expression turn cold. “Isabella, do you understand what it means to terrorize Don Valenti’s only daughter?” Alessia answered lazily. “Don Valenti’s daughter? Vivienne, even for you, this performance is pathetic.” Isabella clung more tightly to Lucian’s arm, her concern perfectly measured. “She’s using children to impersonate heirs from three powerful families. If word gets out, she won’t go down alone. She’ll drag the entire Moretti family with her.” “She still hates me.” Lucian and Alessia both went cold. “You’re safe. I won’t let her touch you,” Lucian said, pulling Isabella into his arms. Alessia looked furious. “Ten years, and you still haven’t learned. What exactly do you want?” “Isabella is my real sister. You were only the orphan Father brought home. You occupied her place for more than a decade. What right do you have to resent her?” The words cut into a part of me that should have gone numb years ago. A small hand caught my bloodstained sleeve. I looked down into Sofia’s red-rimmed eyes. “You had a terrible life before us, Vivienne.” I managed a faint smile and stroked her hair. When I looked up again, every trace of emotion was gone. “Wait fifteen minutes. Then you’ll know whether I’m lying.” The children’s escorts were supposed to arrive in fifteen minutes. That was when I usually returned them, one by one, to their safe houses. “How long are you planning to stall?” Alessia snapped. Isabella suddenly stepped in as though she were defending me. “Fine. If Vivienne truly can’t bear to part with them, we don’t have to kill them.” Lucian frowned, but when he looked at her, he still nodded. “Whatever you want.” Alessia said nothing more. I held Sofia against me, my fingers tightening. Isabella walked slowly toward me, naked challenge in her eyes. “They can live.” “But if you want to return to the Moretti family, you can never have anything to do with them again.” She paused, then smiled. “And so you remember, for every child you keep, I’ll leave one wound on your body.” “I’ve been practicing with a knife lately. I could use a live target.” All three children crowded around me. “You people are sick!” Matteo shouted. “Vivienne is stronger than any of you. Even my mother respects her!” “Wait fifteen minutes if you have the nerve,” Ethan said. “When my father gets here, let’s see who still dares touch Vivienne.” The guards surged forward and dragged them aside. A hand clamped over Sofia’s mouth. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Matteo fought the hardest, his face red with rage. Ethan was the quietest. He only stared at Lucian and Isabella, memorizing their faces. Then the fifteen minutes were up. “Miss Vivienne!” A sharp shout came from the mouth of the alley. Adrian, head of Valenti security, charged into the alley in black tactical gear, his face tight with fury. “Stop! Who the hell are you?” I looked behind him. No one else. My heart sank. “You came alone?” Adrian’s expression tightened. He lowered his voice. “Every route into this area was blocked at once. The De Luca convoy and the Kane teams were cut off. Valenti headquarters hasn’t reached us yet either.” “I came ahead to retrieve Miss Sofia.” The smile on Isabella’s face faded slightly. Lucian’s gaze darkened too. “Another actor?” he said. He stared at me, something unreadable beneath his anger. “You really will do anything to protect these children, won’t you, Vivienne?”

Isabella’s smile stiffened, and her fingers tightened around Lucian’s sleeve. Lucian did not look at her. His eyes stayed on Adrian. “Vivienne,” Isabella cried, as though a thought had just occurred to her, “so that’s why you refused to come with us. Is this man your lover?” Lucian’s expression turned instantly dangerous. “No!” My chest tightened. “Adrian, go. Find someone from Valenti headquarters, the De Luca family, or the Kane network.” Adrian hesitated, then turned to leave. Something in Lucian snapped. He drew his gun and fired at Adrian’s back. “Lucian, stop!” My voice broke. He ignored me. Adrian twisted aside. Before he could regain his footing, Lucian’s guards rushed him from every direction. Guns, batons, and knives boxed him in. “Don’t hurt him!” I lunged forward, but Alessia grabbed me. A knife punched through the protective panel over Adrian’s shoulder. He grunted and dropped to one knee. Then the blows rained down. When fragments of his black armor scattered across the ground, my mind went blank. “Stop!” My throat was raw. “He came to take the children home!” No one believed me. By the time the guards stepped back, Adrian was covered in blood and barely upright. Isabella walked toward him, smiling more gently than ever. “Where did you find someone this stupid, Vivienne?” “All this for three children raised in a slum?” She waved one hand. Three knives were placed in front of me, their edges gleaming. “You should worry less about him and decide whether you’re saving these children.” “I’m saving them.” Three wounds. None of them would kill me. I owed their families too much to abandon the children now. The first knife cut into me, and my vision went black at the edges. The second sliced across my shoulder. My fingers clawed into the dirt until my palm was torn open. Alessia stopped the third blade, fury blazing in her eyes. “Vivienne! You still insist on protecting them?” Sweat covered my forehead, but my voice did not shake. “I’m protecting them. And I’m not returning to the Moretti family.” Alessia lost control and slashed my shoulder herself. “That is not your decision.” “You still owe Isabella. You still owe this family.” So that was why they had come to take me back. They meant to squeeze every last bit of value out of me. Every breath shook with pain, but I forced myself upright. Isabella watched the blood spread across my clothes, barely able to hide her satisfaction. “She’s fighting this hard for a few little bastards,” Isabella said, covering her mouth as though a thought had just occurred to her. “Do you think she really slept around out here and had children?” I looked down. The blood on my clothes came from my shoulder and torn palm. Lucian turned sharply, his eyes dangerous. “Search her.” Two guards wrenched my arms behind me and shoved me to the ground. They tore open my coat, emptied my pockets, and pressed brutally into my old injuries, looking for anything that might prove the children’s identities—or reveal what I had done for the last ten years. Pain exploded through my body. Blood flooded my mouth, and I could not speak. “Those children aren’t hers,” Adrian rasped through blood. “I know exactly who their fathers are.” Isabella turned to him and smiled slowly. “If they aren’t hers, why are you so desperate to protect her?”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260814G3DwW7LvZ4 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni596374”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix