Category: English

Five years of marriage to my germaphobe billionaire husband, Ethan Shaw. And today, I found a suspicious, murky stain on the passenger seat of his sports car. Just as I was about to confront Ethan, his secretary, Chloe Reed, walked up. Tugging at her tight, micro-mini skirt, she flashed a sweet, apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Shaw. I have a habit of going commando, and I think I might have ruined Mr. Shaw’s beautiful leather seats. My bad.” Ethan merely nodded, completely unfazed. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” That night, I gave Ethan a cold warning. “I don’t share dirty men. If anything like this happens again, we are getting a divorce.” The very next day, he fired Chloe. I thought that was the end of it, until the day my mother passed away. That afternoon, I received a Snapchat video from Chloe. Through a foggy glass window, I could clearly make out two tangled silhouettes. And then came Ethan’s heavy, lust-filled voice over the speaker: “Stop playing around…” My eyes welled with tears. Before I could save the video, she deleted it. A sharp pain pierced my chest. Without hesitation, I texted my divorce lawyer: “Draft the divorce papers immediately. I want them ready now.”

On the day of the funeral, Ethan arrived late. He looked as elegant and high-society as ever, but as he stepped closer, I caught the scent of sweet, cheap perfume clinging to his designer suit. I looked down. Right on his collar, partially hidden, was a dark red hickey. The last ounce of warmth in my heart died right there, washed away by the freezing rain. He walked up to me, but before he could say a word, a figure burst into the chapel. It was Chloe, Ethan’s ex-secretary. She was wearing a loud, skin-tight red dress that hugged her hips, with a carefully painted look of grief on her face. She walked straight toward Ethan. “Summer, please accept my condolences,” she said softly. Suddenly, her heel twisted. With a sharp gasp, she lost her balance and fell directly into Ethan’s arms. Ethan didn’t push her away. Instead, his hands instinctively gripped her waist. In the chaotic stumble, Chloe lifted her face just as Ethan leaned down. Their lips met. Softly, easily. Ethan frowned slightly, holding her steady. His voice was low, gentle, and filled with a helpless indulgence I had never heard before. “Careful.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. My mind instantly flashed back to that provocative video. He had used that exact same indulgent, breathless tone when he whispered: “Stop playing around…” It made me think of our wedding night. I had put on a beautiful silk nightgown, gathered all my courage, and gently kissed his lips. It was just a light, fleeting touch. But he had shoved me away so violently that I hit the nightstand. He rushed into the bathroom, and I heard him dry-heaving inside. After that, he spent a full thirty minutes brushing his teeth, almost self-harming, until his gums bled heavily. When he finally walked out, his face was pale and his eyes were dead cold. “Summer, I told you. Do not touch me.” … The whispers of the guests rushed over me like a tide. The looks they threw at me were filled with curiosity, pity, and a sick sense of amusement. My father, Arthur Vance, turned absolutely livid. Clenching his fists, he muttered under his breath, “Is this how the Shaw family shows respect to the deceased? What a disgrace.” Grandpa Charles Shaw banged his cane heavily against the marble floor. “Enough! What kind of circus is this? Do you have no shame, Ethan?” Ethan’s face turned pale. He finally let go of Chloe, but he still kept her shielded behind his back. He lowered his head to Grandpa Charles. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. Chloe didn’t mean to.” *She didn’t mean to.* Such a light, effortless excuse. With those words, he dragged my dignity, my dead mother’s memory, and the entire Vance family name through the mud. I spoke, my voice so calm that it sounded foreign even to me. “Ethan. Take her and get the hell out of here.” He stared at me, a flash of panic and guilt crossing his eyes. He quickly stepped closer and whispered, “Summer, don’t throw a tantrum at a time like this, okay? Chloe just tripped…” He was still defending her. I looked him dead in the eye, repeating his words. “A tantrum?” “You are openly defending another woman at your wife’s mother’s funeral, and you think *I’m* the one throwing a tantrum?” His lips parted, but the words that came out broke my heart completely. “I owe her, Summer,” he pleaded quietly. “Please, don’t make this look any uglier than it already is.” Behind him, Chloe peeked out, her eyes wet with fake tears but sparkling with triumph. At that moment, I actually laughed. Why should I care about making a scene? No matter how hysterical I acted, nothing could hurt more than the knife he had just plunged into my chest. “I said get out. Are you deaf?” Ethan closed his eyes in pain. Ultimately, he turned around, took Chloe by the arm, and escorted her out of the chapel. As Chloe passed me, she shot me a smug, victorious look. And Ethan didn’t even dare to look at me again. The funeral finally ended. I forced myself to say goodbye to the remaining guests before walking alone into my mother’s old bedroom. The room still smelled of her. I stared at the photo of her gentle, smiling face on the vanity. And just like that, the tightly wound string inside me snapped. A wave of overwhelming grief and the crushing humiliation of betrayal washed over me. I covered my mouth to muffle my sobs, but my knees gave out, and I slid down to the cold floor. My mother’s face in the photo blurred. Eventually, everything went dark.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. I tried to move my hand and felt the cold prick of an IV line. The door opened, and a tall man in a white lab coat walked in. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and had a gentle, comforting presence. It was Luke Montgomery. I had only met him once at a charity gala. He was the heir to the prestigious Montgomery family, but he had chosen a quiet life as a humanitarian doctor. “You’re awake?” He handed me my chart. “Summer, you are six weeks pregnant. But due to extreme emotional distress and exhaustion, you are showing signs of a threatened miscarriage.” “If you want to keep this baby, you need absolute bed rest.” My heart sank. My hand instinctively flew to my flat stomach. This baby—the one I had prayed for, the one I had gone through so much pain to conceive—was now nothing but a cruel joke. My father stood by the bedside, his brow furrowed in anger. He and my mother had lived separate lives for years, and he had his own mistresses and secret kids. His fury right now wasn’t out of love for me; it was because Ethan’s public stunt had embarrassed him. “That absolute bastard! Just wait till he gets here. I’m going to ruin him!” But within minutes, my father’s phone rang. He took the call and left immediately. In the end, I was still completely alone. By evening, Ethan showed up. He was carrying a thermal flask, his expression tense. Seeing me awake, he let out a sigh of relief and rushed to my side. “Summer, how are you feeling?” I didn’t look at him. He began to ramble, trying to justify himself. “About yesterday at the funeral… I’m sorry. But Chloe has no one in this city. She’s completely helpless, and I couldn’t just leave her. I need you to understand that.” I slowly turned my head and stared at him. The man before me felt like a complete stranger. “Did you ever try to understand me?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Ethan, do you remember what I did to make you comfortable with me? I soaked my hands in harsh disinfectant, washing them over and over until my skin cracked and bled.” “It took me five whole years of patience just to get you to willingly hold me.” “But Chloe? She gets to stain your car. She gets to be cradled in your arms at my mother’s funeral.” “Tell me, Ethan. Why?” My voice was shaking, every word dripping with raw pain. His face turned completely pale, and he couldn’t find a single word to say. Silence was the most brutal answer. It told me, loud and clear, that my five years of devotion were nothing but a massive joke. Ethan couldn’t look me in the eye. Seeing how agitated I was, he tried to do what he always did—throw money at the problem. “Summer, to make it up to you, I’ll set up an art foundation in your mother’s name.” “The Shaw Group will fully fund it. Think of it as a tribute to her.” He was always like this. Measuring everything with money. My feelings. His guilt. And now, even my mother’s dignity. “Get out,” I spat. He froze, shocked by my tone. He had never been spoken to like this before. I grabbed the pillow behind me and threw it at his face with all the strength I had left. “I said, get the hell out of my sight!” Late that night, a friend sent me a screenshot of an Instagram Story. In a cozy dessert shop, Chloe was leaning sweet-tempered against Ethan’s shoulder. She was holding a spoon of half-eaten ice cream up to his lips. Ethan’s head was turned toward his phone, but he didn’t push her away. The caption read: *He still only eats what I feed him.* This was the same man who would vomit if I offered him a bite of my cookie. The same man who insisted on sanitizing our shared silverware dozens of times before touching it. Yet, he was perfectly fine eating ice cream Chloe had already put in her mouth. My stomach churned violently. I scrambled out of bed, rushed to the bathroom, and threw up until nothing was left. Staring at my pale, hollow reflection in the mirror, I felt a deep, sickening disgust. I wasn’t just disgusted by him. I was disgusted by myself for having crawled in the dirt for him for five long years.

After getting discharged, I went alone to the gallery where we first met. Five years ago, I held my first solo art exhibition here. The gallery had been packed that day, but Ethan had stood in front of a painting called *The Caged Bird* for an entire afternoon. I thought I had found my soulmate. Standing in front of that same painting now, I realized how foolish I had been. He didn’t understand my art. He just saw his own reflection in it. And I was just a self-righteous savior who had willingly jumped into a tragedy of my own making. The next day, a lawyer from the Shaw Group delivered a thick stack of documents. It was a family trust fund for my and Ethan’s future children. “Mrs. Shaw, this is from the Elder Mr. Shaw and Mr. Ethan Shaw,” the lawyer explained. “If you have a child, they will automatically become the third-largest shareholder of the Shaw Group. This trust…” Grandpa Charles had always pushed us to have a baby to secure our business marriage and Ethan’s inheritance. I used to look forward to this, enduring endless medical treatments and humiliation just to conceive. Now, this document felt like a fresh slap in the face. I cut the lawyer off calmly. “No need. We won’t be needing this trust fund. Ever.” I wanted absolutely nothing to do with Ethan Shaw. Later that afternoon, I went to the equestrian club. Before I officially walked away from this marriage, I wanted to paint one last piece as a farewell to the baby in my womb. But I didn’t expect to run into those two again. Chloe was dressed in a tight, fiery-red riding outfit, looking radiant. Ethan stood by the fence, his eyes locked onto her. Suddenly, Chloe shrieked and fell off her horse. Ethan’s face went completely pale. Without a second thought, he bolted toward her. As Chloe whimpered in pain, Ethan completely forgot his germaphobia. He scooped up her dirt-covered body and rushed her toward the medical clinic. My paintbrush hovered in mid-air. The sun was warm, but I felt freezing cold. I remembered the time I had a sudden panic attack and collapsed in our living room. Ethan had stood a safe distance away, shouting for the housekeeper and the doctor, but he never once reached out to touch me. It turned out his germaphobia was selective. It wasn’t that he couldn’t touch anyone. He just didn’t want to touch me. My heart went completely numb. I guess when disappointment reaches its peak, all you feel is absolute exhaustion. That evening, my assistant called, her voice frantic. “Summer, there’s trouble! Ethan just beat up Victor Sterling, the CEO of Sterling Corp, because of Chloe!” My head throbbed. “What?” “Apparently, Chloe claimed Victor harassed her. Ethan barged right into their business dinner and beat Victor so badly he’s in the ER.” “Ethan was covered in cheap booze and blood, but he didn’t care at all. He went straight back to the office to call an emergency board meeting. Overnight, he managed to tank Sterling Corp’s stock…” I listened in silence. For Chloe, he could be reckless. He could fight. He could tolerate the dirt and blood he hated most. He could throw all his principles out the window. For Chloe, he could do anything. I quietly hung up and emailed the signed divorce papers to Ethan. Then, I drove back to my art studio. This time, I wouldn’t give him another chance to explain.

I went back to the penthouse studio to grab my medical records. The place was a wedding gift from Ethan, overlooking the river. But when I pushed the door open, the sight before me made my stomach turn. The studio was a total mess. The air was thick with the unmistakable, musky scent of sex. The painting I had spent days working on for my baby was ripped off the easel, thrown onto the floor, splattered with random paint, and covered in dirty footprints. Beside the easel lay a discarded lace bra and adult toys. My breathing stopped. Rage and disgust boiled in my chest, quickly replaced by an icy, hollow feeling. I let out a bitter laugh, knelt down, and began packing my paintbrushes and sketches into a box. Just as I taped the last box shut, the electronic lock on the front door beeped. Then came the sound of heavy breathing, giggling, and a woman’s suggestive whimpers. “Ethan… let’s do it right here…” Then, Ethan’s strained, familiar voice replied, “Stop…” I hid behind a large canvas, watching coldly. Chloe was wrapped around him like a snake, kissing him aggressively while her hands worked on his shirt buttons. Ethan’s breathing was shallow and fast. He made a weak, stiff attempt to push her away. But that resistance lasted only a few seconds before he gave in. A wave of nausea hit me, and I accidentally knocked over a jar of brushes. Ethan snapped his head toward the sound. When his eyes met mine, he panicked and violently pushed Chloe off him. “Summer! Let me explain!” he cried out, his voice cracking. “I’ve been looking for you ever since I got the divorce papers! There’s nothing going on between us, I swear!” He reached out to grab my arm, but froze when he saw the sheer disgust in my eyes. “I… I have this place cleaned every day. I don’t know how she got in…” “Summer, please don’t leave. Don’t look at me like that.” “Can we please just talk?” He was rambling, his eyes filled with genuine panic. But Chloe just laughed. She stepped forward and kicked my packed box of art supplies, sending my sketches and paint jars flying across the floor, ruining my clothes. She leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Summer, what explanation do you want? Want him to admit he loves me more?” “A pathetic woman like you doesn’t deserve to have Ethan’s baby anyway.” “Honestly, I feel bad for your dead mother. She probably died just to get away from a depressing loser like you.” “Shut up!” My self-control snapped. I raised my hand and swung it hard toward her smug face. But before my hand could land, my wrist was grabbed in a brutal grip. It was Ethan. He pulled Chloe behind him and shoved me back. I saw it clearly. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes were filled with a deep, ugly irritation I had never seen before. He looked like a completely different person from the man who had just begged me to stay. I stared at him in utter shock. Time seemed to slow down. The sheer disgust in his eyes was sharper than any of Chloe’s venomous words. It felt like my heart had been pierced, letting the very last drop of my warmth drain out. I stumbled backward, my lower back crashing hard against the heavy wooden easel. A sharp, blinding pain exploded in my abdomen. My vision went black, and I felt a warm, terrifying rush of liquid running down my legs, staining my dress red. *Bam!* The studio door was kicked open. Luke rushed in, looking frantic. He had probably come looking for me because I hadn’t answered his calls. The moment he saw the pool of bright red blood beneath me, he ran over and scooped me up into his arms. “Are you insane?!” Luke roared at Ethan, his eyes burning with fury. “Did you seriously not know she was pregnant?!” Ethan froze on the spot, his hands trembling violently. “Pregnant? No… how…”

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When I arrived at the mate ceremony, Sharon Taylor, a Delta warrior from our pack, stepped out of the crowd. “Lily, don’t be nervous,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “Before a Beta’s mate can officially marry him, they have to pass a test of strength by a Delta warrior. Only a strong werewolf is worthy of standing beside a Beta. Ethan asked me to go easy on you. We’ll just put on a little show for the crowd.” My fated mate, Beta Ethan Miller, stood right beside her. He remained silent, his face blank. I thought it was just a traditional formality, so I didn’t think twice. I walked straight into the cleared center of the hall. But in the next second, Sharon instantly shifted into her wolf form. With a vicious, full-force leap, she pinned me to the ground. Before I could even scream, her fangs sank deep into my throat. My vision went black, and my consciousness slipped into the dark. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. One month before the mate ceremony. I walked straight through the pack’s main residential area and headed to the nursery gardens on the far west side. That was where Old John lived. He was a close friend of my late father, once the strongest warrior in the pack. After retiring, he chose to spend his days as a quiet gardener. “Uncle John,” I called out. He looked up, squinting at me for a few long seconds before recognizing me. “Little Lily? Look at you, all grown up. Looking for your dad? He’s gone, sweetheart.” “I know. I’m here for you.” He put down his shears and wiped the dirt off his hands. “What’s on your mind?” “I want you to teach me how to fight.” He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my thin arms and legs. He let out a dry chuckle. “You? You’ve probably never even scratched a rogue wolf.” I didn’t say a word. I pulled a thick envelope of cash out of my bag and placed it on the brick ledge. Ten thousand dollars. My entire savings from working at the pup nursery for two years. He glanced at it but didn’t touch it. “I don’t need your money, kid.” But then, I rolled up my sleeve. When he saw the deep, ugly bruises left on my arm by a drunk Ethan Miller, he went completely silent. He stood up, brushed the dirt off his knees, walked into his tool shed, and tossed a pair of old, worn-out boxing gloves at my feet. “Be here at this exact time tomorrow. If you’re late, don’t bother coming back.” On the first day, he made me stand still. Then, he suddenly struck. Slaps, punches, sweeps—attacks came from every angle. I could only raise my arms in a desperate, instinctive attempt to block. “Too slow,” he grunted. Every time a blow landed, a flash of my past life crossed my mind. I remembered Sharon Taylor’s massive wolf form pinning me down. The feeling of her fangs tearing through my windpipe was as clear as if it had happened yesterday. And Ethan? Not long after my funeral, he officially mated with Sharon Taylor. They took over my inheritance. They lived in my house. Everyone in the pack praised Ethan Miller for being a loyal, grieving man who found love again, and they called Sharon Taylor a sweet, supportive angel. Not a single soul asked if I, the bride murdered by her own fated mate’s accomplice, deserved justice. Thinking of this, I pushed myself up from the dirt and gestured to Old John. “Again.” He nodded, a spark of approval in his eyes. “Get ready.” That night, I lay on the wooden cot inside the nursery garden shed. There wasn’t a single spot on my body that didn’t ache. My phone screen lit up. A message from Ethan Miller on Snapchat. “Babe, I just finished my shift and finally got to eat. I’m taking care of everything with the wedding planners. Just relax and get ready to be the most beautiful bride.” I stared at the word “shift,” then unlocked my phone and opened Instagram. Sharon Taylor had posted an update just three minutes ago. It was a selfie of her trying on a wedding dress. In the background, draped over the arm of the sofa, was a dark blue Hermès tie—the exact birthday gift I had bought for Ethan Miller last month. Her caption read: *“Only the truly cherished get the privilege of a dress fitting first.”* I gripped my phone tight, opened Snapchat, and sent Ethan a voice note. “Thanks, babe. You’re working so hard. I trust you completely with the wedding planning.” Then, I typed out a message. “By the way, babe, I saw a limited-edition designer wedding dress. There are only three in the world. The deposit is twenty thousand dollars. What do you think?” “Isn’t that a bit too expensive? A regular dress would look just as beautiful on you.” “But I only get married once. And didn’t you promise to give me the most lavish wedding in the city?” The other side went silent for nearly two minutes. Finally, he replied with one word: “Okay.” A cold smirk played on my lips. I turned off the phone and rolled over to face the wall. Oh, Ethan Miller. In my past life, you wanted my pack inheritance, my house, and my life. In this life, I’m going to drain you dry first.

During the day, I kept working at the pack’s pup nursery. I fed the toddlers, put them down for naps, and played games with them. A little boy who had just learned to walk clung to my knee, his tiny hand gripping my apron, murmuring, “Lily, Lily.” A coworker smiled nearby. “Lily, you were born for this. These pups absolutely adore you.” I smiled back but said nothing. In my past life, I truly loved this job. I loved these noisy little angels. But back then, I never realized that tenderness meant nothing in a wolf pack—how could a mere nursery worker be worthy of being a Beta’s fated mate? As soon as my shift ended, I walked to the garden on the west side. Old John was already waiting for me. He didn’t teach me fancy moves. He just made me dodge. Punch, kick, sweep—he attacked ruthlessly. “Too slow,” he kept repeating. After a few days, I was covered in blue and purple bruises, but I was slowly learning to react the split second his body moved. One evening, a few kids from the nursery whose parents were late to pick them up followed me to the garden. They ran around the flowerbeds, playing with sticks, while I continued my dodging practice. Old John watched them for a long time, then leaned in. “Don’t you find these little brats annoying?” I shook my head. “I love them.” “Huh. You actually act like a real Luna. Too bad our Alpha still hasn’t found his mysterious fated mate yet.” He shrugged and patted my shoulder. “Up. Keep practicing.” That night, my best friend Sophia Parker came to pick me up. Seeing my bruised arms, her eyes went red instantly. “Lily, are you crazy? Why are you doing this to yourself?” I took off my hand wraps and gulped down some water. “Take a look at this.” I handed her my phone. On the screen were screenshots of embezzled funds sent by a private investigator. Ethan Miller had embezzled twenty thousand dollars of pack public funds. Fifteen thousand of that went toward a Cartier bracelet. The recipient: Sharon Taylor. Sophia’s eyes widened in horror. “Ethan embezzled pack funds to buy that bitch Cartier? What did he ever buy you? A cheap ten-dollar bouquet of supermarket flowers for your birthday! Cancel the wedding, Lily! Do not marry this trash!” I shook my head and took my phone back. “No, I can’t cancel it. I need him to crawl on his knees and spit out every single cent he stole from me.” Sophia looked at me, her expression turning into one of pure awe. “Lily, I don’t know what you’re planning, but whatever it is, I’ve got your back.” I watched her leave, then bent down to continue my training. Three days before the mate ceremony, the investigator sent me one final audio recording. It was recorded inside Ethan’s car. Sharon’s voice was unmistakable. “Ethan, once she’s out of the picture after the ceremony, her house is fully paid off, right? Transfer the deed to your name, and we can move in. It’ll be perfect.” Ethan chuckled. “What’s the rush? Once we get her pack trust fund and empty her savings account, this marriage will be worth every second.” Sharon giggled. “You’re so bad, Ethan.” “Don’t you love it, though?” “I absolutely adore it.” The recording ended. I sat in Old John’s tool shed and listened to it three times on loop. My hands were perfectly steady as I backed up the audio file to three different secure cloud drives. Then, I wired the final payment to the investigator with a note: *Great work. Worth every penny.*

Two days before the ceremony, Ethan’s mother, Helen Miller, showed up at my house. She brought a bag of bruised, discounted apples, sat on my sofa with her legs crossed, and immediately started acting like the boss of the house. “Lily, dear, I need to talk to you about something.” “Your house was fully paid off before the wedding, right? Now that you’re marrying Ethan, you two are one family. It looks so bad if the house is only in your name.” “Add Ethan’s name to the deed. It’ll make you look like a supportive, loving wife to the rest of the pack.” I held my teacup and remained quiet. “Even Sharon said that couples shouldn’t keep secrets. Generosity makes a marriage last.” *“Even Sharon said.”* How lovely. An outsider was deciding how my property should be handled, and my future mother-in-law took it as gospel. I took a deep breath and forced a sweet, innocent smile. “You’re absolutely right. Give me the property papers, and I’ll go take care of the transfer tomorrow.” Helen beamed, pulling the property documents right out of her bag and handing them to me. Unbelievable. She had brought them with her, just waiting for this moment. I took the documents and escorted her out. The second the door closed, my smile vanished. I didn’t go to the registry office to add Ethan’s name. I went straight to the bank. I took out a property equity loan. My house was worth $500,000. I walked out with a $350,000 cash loan. The money cleared that very afternoon. I transferred every single cent into Sophia Parker’s offshore account. In my past life, Ethan had forcefully transferred this house to his name and sold it, leaving me with nothing. In this life, he wouldn’t even get a single brick. When I got home, Ethan was actually in the kitchen. He handed me a cup of dark, strong-smelling herbal tea. “Babe, you look tired lately. I brewed this nighttime wellness tea for you. Drink up, get a good night’s sleep, and be the most beautiful bride the day after tomorrow.” I took the cup. Beneath the heavy herbal scent, I caught a sharp, chemical trace of sleeping pills. He wanted me drugged and unconscious before the ceremony so Sharon would have plenty of time to prepare for the “test.” I brought the cup to my lips, pretending to drink. The moment he turned around, I spat it into a paper towel, balled it up, and stuffed it into my pocket. “Thanks, babe. It’s great.” A flash of smug satisfaction crossed Ethan’s eyes. “Great. Go to sleep early. We have rehearsal tomorrow.” He grabbed his jacket, walked into the guest room, and locked the door to make a call. I pressed my ear against the wall. “Sharon, she drank it. Sleeping like a log. Everything is set for the ceremony.” Sharon’s voice came muffled through the wall. “Ethan, when she gets on the stage, should I bite her left shoulder or her throat first?” Ethan laughed. “Whatever makes you happy. She won’t survive the bite anyway.” I went back to my bedroom and locked the door. I sat at my desk, opened my laptop, and organized all the evidence I had gathered into a clean, timed slideshow presentation. I titled it: **”The Groom’s Chronicles.”** I set the program to auto-play and linked it directly to the ceremony hall’s main projector account. With everything set, I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes. I wasn’t a victim anymore. I was a sharpened blade.

The day of the mate ceremony arrived. At 6:00 AM, Sophia Parker arrived to do my makeup. When she unpacked the twenty-thousand-dollar designer wedding dress and held it against me, her hands began to shake. “Lily Anderson… your arms…” The dress was a strapless, off-the-shoulder gown, leaving my collarbones and arms completely exposed. The lean, hard muscle definition on my forearms was clear. “Don’t worry about it. Just put on some heavy concealer.” Sophia bit her lip and stopped asking. She applied three layers of heavy-duty concealer to hide the fading bruises. Once the gown was on and the veil was set, I turned around in front of the mirror. The woman in the reflection was breathtaking in her white gown. She looked entirely different from the weak, fragile girl who had been slaughtered in my past life. The old Lily Anderson was dead. The one standing here had crawled back from the depths of hell. At 8:00 AM, the wedding car arrived. Ethan Miller, looking sharp in a tailored black tuxedo, stood by the door. His face was cleanly shaved, his shoes polished to a high shine. His eyes lit up when he saw me. I smiled, took his arm, and got into the car. Sharon Taylor was sitting in the front passenger seat. She wore a simple bridesmaid dress, her hair in a low ponytail, with minimal makeup. She turned around, giving me a weak, fragile smile. “Lily, you look so beautiful today.” Then she covered her mouth and let out a soft cough. I reached out and squeezed her hand with a warm smile. “Thank you, Sharon. I know you’ve been feeling under the weather, yet you still came to be my bridesmaid. It means so much.” “Of course. Witnessing your happiness makes it all worth it, Lily.” Ethan glanced at Sharon in the rearview mirror, and Sharon caught his gaze. The look they exchanged lasted less than a second, but I saw it all—the triumph, the thrill, and the sick anticipation. The car drove into the grandest banquet hall in the territory. Flowers lined the entrance, and a red carpet rolled out to the doors. Ethan got out first, opened my door, and offered his hand like a perfect gentleman. “We’re here, babe.” I lifted my skirt, took his arm, and walked in. As we pushed open the heavy double doors of the banquet hall, the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. I scanned the room. The floral arrangements, the lighting, the tables—everything matched the expensive plans. Except for one thing. In the center of the hall, where the champagne tower should have been, a large, empty combat ring had been cleared out. I pretended to be shocked and looked at Ethan. “What is… this?” Ethan patted my hand gently, his voice smooth and reassuring. “Don’t worry, Lily. It’s just pack tradition. A Beta’s mate needs to show her strength to bless the union. It’s for good luck.” He stepped aside, and Sharon walked out from behind him, a sports jacket zipped up over her bridesmaid dress. She still wore that fragile, sickly expression. “Lily, Ethan insisted on this. I tried to say no. Don’t worry, I’m so weak right now, I probably don’t even have half your strength. We’ll just tap each other and call it a day.” The guests, clueless about the scheme, began to cheer and jeer. “Go for it! It’s tradition!” “Don’t be shy, bride! Show us what you got!” “Sharon is basically a twig, Lily! You’ve got nothing to fear!” The cheers grew louder and louder. Everyone was laughing, cheering, thinking it was a harmless game. Just like in my past life. I remained silent for ten seconds, then looked straight into Ethan’s eyes. “I’ll do it.” Ethan blinked, caught off guard. I continued, “But on one condition. In case of any accidents, we sign a blood oath so no one can blame the other.” I took a document from Sophia, who was waiting nearby, and unfolded it in front of Ethan. The terms were spelled out in bold, black ink. *“During the sparring session, any physical injury caused by either party shall be the sole responsibility of the injured party. Neither party shall seek compensation or legal action.”* Ethan looked down at the document, his lips twitching into a smirk. To him, I was signing my own death warrant. Sharon’s eyes lit up, and she snatched the pen to sign her name immediately. Once she signed the blood oath, I handed the paper back to Sophia for safekeeping. Then, under the gaze of three hundred guests waiting for a show, I slowly unzipped and stepped out of my wedding gown, revealing the athletic wear I wore underneath.

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My fated mate, Alpha Victor Smith, agreed to a “loyalty test” proposed by his childhood friend, Grace Miller. “Reject Lily and stay away from her for three years. If she still wants you after that, I’ll accept her as the pack’s rightful Luna.” I only found out later that there was no loyalty test. It was all a lie she made up. But he agreed anyway. He looked at me with absolute confidence. “I know Lily would never betray me. Don’t worry, I’ll come back for you in exactly three years!” Three years later, he knocked on my door. He opened his arms for a hug, wearing a confident smirk. “Lily, I kept my promise. I’m back to make you mine again.” I said nothing. What he didn’t know was that just a month after he rejected me, I found my second-chance mate. My thoughts snapped back to the present. He was still standing there, arms wide open. I stepped aside, putting a hand on his chest to push him back. My voice was flat. “Sorry, my Alpha doesn’t like other wolves’ scents on me.” Victor let out a confident chuckle. “Still mad?” “Come on, Lily. I’m here now, aren’t I?” “Be good. Stop acting like a child.” He used that same old patronizing tone, assuming I was just throwing a tantrum. He stepped forward to wrap his arms around me again. I took another step back, my expression hardening. “Alpha Victor, show some respect.” His hands froze in mid-air. The warmth in his eyes didn’t fade. “So you’re really furious this time?” “Tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything to make it up to you.” He still thought a few sweet words would fix everything, just like they used to. He took another step toward me. With every step he took, I took one back. The look in his eyes turned into one of pure desire—the urge to conquer. “Victor, it’s been three years. A lot changes in three years.” He nodded in agreement. “True.” I backed up until my spine hit the wall. I had nowhere else to go. He pinned me, placing one hand on the wall beside my head, while his other hand reached for my waist. When we were together, he loved trapping me like this, kissing me breathless under the moonlight. “So, did you give me a son? Or a daughter?” He asked, his hand gently tracing my cheek. The mention of the baby sent a sharp, agonizing pain straight through my heart. Three years ago, he knew I was carrying his pup. Yet, he still chose to reject me for Grace’s ridiculous test. He disappeared for three years without a single text or call. And now, he actually had the nerve to assume I had birthed his pup, waiting like a loyal dog for him to mark me again! A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I was about to tell him that the pup was dead, but Victor’s phone suddenly rang. He pulled it out. The caller ID lit up: *My Princess.* His contact name for Grace. I had seen it a thousand times before. He used to pat her head, saying she would always be his princess. He never cared how much that hurt me when I was his wife. True to form, he answered it immediately. “Victor… please help me. My migraine is back. It hurts so much…” Grace’s whiny, crying voice echoed through the speaker. Panic instantly washed over Victor’s face. “Don’t worry, Grace. I’m on my way.” He hung up. He quickly patted my head, as if soothing an angry pet. “I have to check on Grace first. I’ll be back for you later.” Before the words even fully registered, he ran off.

Grace didn’t change at all. She immediately sent me a Snapchat DM with a picture, rubbing her victory in my face. In the photo, she was lying in Victor’s arms, sweating and looking weak. Victor was gently massaging her stomach. Her caption read: *From childhood until now, he has always loved me the most.* *No matter how busy he is, or who he is with.* *The moment I feel unwell, he will fly to my side.* *He gives me all his care and love.* *He is truly the best man in the world!!!* I opened the message and left her on read. This wasn’t a one-time thing. Over the past three years, Grace had been sending me photos and texts every couple of days. I had received countless messages from her, but I never replied once. She loved showing off her fake perfect life. For example, she didn’t work. Victor gave her his black card, and she spent his money like water. She redecorated the house Victor and I used to share, even replacing our master bed. She used my old things whenever she wanted, or just threw them in the trash. For three years, she and Victor did everything a real couple would do. Fortunately, Victor and I were already over. I was completely numb to his betrayal. I knew she was doing this just to get a reaction out of me. My silence was my ultimate contempt. But Grace actually believed I was crying and throwing a fit in secret. The next time I saw Victor, he came into my coffee shop with Grace. They were wearing matching couple bracelets. Victor’s bracelet was engraved with Grace’s initials. He usually only wore formal suits, but today, he wore a trendy, casual blazer to match her. Back when we were married, I had begged him to wear couple outfits with me. He always refused, saying he hated changing his style. Grace looked around my coffee shop, her eyes filled with mock surprise. Victor looked at me, frowning in disapproval. “I gave you so much divorce money. Why are you working such a exhausting job?” When he rejected me, I demanded half his assets. He didn’t hesitate to sign them over back then. I stopped making the coffee, looking up at him with a blank stare. “Because I like it. And it’s none of your business.” Victor didn’t get angry. He still thought I was just acting out because I was jealous. Grace stepped forward, fake-smiling. “Lily, it’s been three years. How have you been?” “Great.” Grace seemed taken RSVP by my calm demeanor. Just then, Victor’s phone rang again. He turned and walked outside to take the call. The second we were alone, Grace dropped her act. Her smile turned into a vicious smirk. “Stop pretending you don’t care. But don’t get your hopes up either.” She looked down at me, laughing softly. “Even if you let Victor mark you again, so what?” “His mother hates you. In her eyes, I am the only perfect Luna for their pack.” “Victor only came back to get you out of a sense of duty.” “Even this visit was only allowed because I gave him permission.” “And you’ll have to sign a prenup.” “By the way, I drafted it myself.” She pulled a document from her designer bag and tossed it onto the counter. I glanced down at it with sheer disgust. The terms were laughable. I would get absolutely none of the Smith pack’s assets. After the marriage, I wasn’t allowed to call his mother “Mom.” I had to address her formally as “Elder Luna.” I wasn’t allowed to represent myself as the Luna in public. To the outside world, I would always just be his “ex-wife.” This humiliating contract actually made me laugh out loud. I pushed the paper back to her. “Since his mother loves you so much, why are you still nameless after three years?” “Three years, Grace. Victor used you, slept with you, but still won’t take responsibility for you. How pathetic.” Grace’s face flushed with rage. She raised her hand to slap me. But then, we heard Victor’s footsteps approaching. Her face changed instantly. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she looked like a victim trying to be understanding. “Lily, I really want you and Victor to get back together.” “As his childhood friend, I just want him to be happy.” “This prenup is just a formality. Please don’t be mad at him, okay?” She was still the same drama queen from three years ago. The moment Victor saw her tears, his brain turned to mush. He lost all ability to think straight.

“Grace, what happened?” Victor pulled Grace into his chest, his eyes filled with worry. Grace shook her head, looking utterly heartbroken. “Nothing, Victor. It’s my fault. Don’t blame Lily.” The more she played the martyr, the more Victor believed I had bullied her. “Lily!” He barked at me, his face cold. “Apologize to her!” His tone was commanding, as if he were ordering a servant. A cold smirk played on my lips. He frowned, looking extremely annoyed. “Grace grew up with me. She’s like a sister to me!” “She is my family. Why do you always have so much malice toward her?” “Can’t you just be nice to her for my sake?” I stared at him blankly. I had seen this exact scene play out a thousand times three years ago. I was sick of it. Just as I was about to kick them out, my phone on the counter rang with a FaceTime call. The screen lit up: *Baby Boy.* The moment Victor saw the caller ID, his eyes lit up. He reached out and swiped the screen before I could stop him. I quickly snatched the phone back. Two-year-old Leo’s adorable face appeared on the screen. “Mommy, I miss you.” Hearing that sweet little voice call me “Mommy” made Victor practically vibrate with excitement. He was absolutely convinced I had given birth to his son. I quickly said a few words to Leo. Before Victor could grab my phone to talk to him, I ended the call. “Let me see my son!” Victor was grinning from ear to ear. His anger vanished instantly, as if it had never happened. Grace’s face turned incredibly pale. “He is not your son!” I looked at him, my voice freezing cold. “Stop bothering me. Both of you are insane.” He didn’t get mad. Instead, he chuckled, still in his delusional world. “Alright, alright, stop being stubborn.” “I really miss you and our boy.” I realized then that a man as arrogant as Victor would never believe I didn’t love him anymore unless he saw my new Alpha with his own eyes. He suddenly said, “My mother’s birthday party is in a few days.” “You’re a good cook. Prepare some of her favorite dishes.” “Use this chance to fix your relationship with her.” “Now that you’ve given her a grandson, she won’t make things hard for you anymore.” So he *did* know. During our three-year marriage, Elder Luna Margaret Smith had humiliated me in front of the entire pack, claiming I was unworthy. Even though I was Victor’s wife, she banned me from attending any official pack events. When I tried to greet her politely, she would turn her back on me. And through all of her bullying, Victor had always stayed silent. I let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “Victor, why didn’t I even have the right to eat dinner with your mother back then?” He hesitated for a second. “That’s because you didn’t know how to please her.” Grace chipped in, fake-smiling. “Lily, it’s not humiliating for a junior to beg an elder. His mother loves it when people bow down to her.” She was subtly telling me to get on my knees and beg. I smiled coldly. I looked straight into Victor’s dark eyes, my voice dead serious. “Victor, it’s been three years. Everything has changed.” “I am married. And the kid is not yours.” Then, I turned to Grace. “Maybe you should do the kneeling. Who knows? Maybe you’ll finally get a chance to be the next Luna.”

Grace burst into tears. “I shouldn’t have opened my mouth…” She sobbed, covering her face as she ran out. Victor’s face darkened instantly. He glared at me. “How long are you going to keep up this ridiculous lie!” With that, he ran after Grace. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my husband: *“Honey, the negotiations are over. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon.”* I let out a sigh of relief. Once Victor met Ethan in person, his delusion would finally shatter. The next afternoon, I had just arrived at the coffee shop when the daycare teacher called me in a panic. She said Leo had been taken by a man claiming to be his biological father and a woman. My heart leaped into my throat. I rushed straight to the Smith pack territory. There, I saw Grace holding Leo near an abandoned stone quarry. She was “showing him his future territory.” Leo had been terrified of unfamiliar, enclosed, or ruined spaces since he was a baby. He was crying hysterically, his little face flushed red. But Grace ignored his panic completely. She dragged Leo deeper into the rocky quarry. “Don’t be scared, Leo. This will all be yours one day.” “This is your daddy’s land, which means it’s your land. Why are you crying? Stop being so rude. Your loud crying is going to scare the wolves around here.” Leo struggled wildly, trying to run back. The loose rocks at the edge of the quarry began to slide, crashing down right next to Leo’s tiny feet. Leo screamed in terror. Grace smiled gently, but her eyes were dark and threatening. “Look, you scared the rocks down.” “Who allowed you to touch my son!” I screamed in fury, rushing toward them. Just as I was about to grab Leo, Victor appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed me from behind, pulling me back. “Grace is just trying to help. She wants our son to get used to his future territory.” My eyes were burning with tears. I spun around and slapped him hard across the face. “My son is terrified of unfamiliar environments!” “He doesn’t need you to arrange his future!” I turned to grab Leo again, but Victor grabbed my wrist tightly. Grace looked at me, playing innocent. “Today is the third anniversary of the quarry’s closing. I thought it was the perfect place to build a pup’s courage.” “I just wanted Leo to return to the pack. I wanted him to get familiar with the land.” As she spoke, another section of the stone wall crumbled. Sharp gravel rained down on Leo, cutting his arms, legs, and forehead. She added quickly, “Don’t worry. I checked the quarry. It’s totally safe. I used to play here all the time when I was a kid.” Seeing Leo crying so hard he could barely breathe, I panicked and struggled desperately. Victor held me tighter, trying to soothe me. “He’s a boy, Lily. You can’t raise him to be soft.” “He’s going to be an Alpha one day. He needs to build some courage. He can’t be afraid of some rocks.” Suddenly, a large rock fell and struck Leo right on the head. He went limp and fell to the ground. I screamed at the top of my lungs. “He’s knocked out!” Only then did Victor realize the severity of the situation. I broke free, ran to scoop Leo into my arms, and rushed toward the Pack Healer’s clinic. Victor and Grace followed closely behind.

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Eric and I were together for seven years. The thing he said to me most often was: “Sorry, I forgot.” He forgot my birthday. Forgot the trips we’d planned. Forgot to buy medicine when I was burning up with a hundred-and-four-degree fever. I’d cried over it. I’d fought with him about it. He’d always rub his temples, exhausted: “Once this busy stretch is over, I’ll make it up to you.” Looking at the weariness pooled beneath his eyes, I swallowed my hurt again and again, telling myself he was tired—that I shouldn’t make things harder for him. Until Grandma was suddenly on her deathbed, gripping my hand with what little strength she had left: “Harper… I still haven’t met your boyfriend…” I dialed his number with trembling fingers. It rang twice before he hung up. Eric sent back a cold text: **[Busy. We’ll talk when I’m home.]** At the same time, the company’s new intern Sarah updated her Instagram: **[Successfully convinced Boss to ditch work for a movie today!]** Half a face was visible in the photo beside hers. Eric’s. So when I needed him most, his time and attention went to someone else. Then there was no point in continuing this anymore. … The heart monitor flatlined into a cold, unbroken line. I reached over and closed Grandma’s eyes—the eyes that death hadn’t been able to shut. When I signed the death certificate, my hands shook so badly I could barely hold the pen. The nurse looked at me with concern. “Would you like us to contact another family member to help?” I shook my head. Fifteen years ago, my parents died in a car accident. I was about to be placed in a group home when Grandma took three connecting buses to come get me and bring me home with her. To raise me, she’d worked simultaneously as a milk delivery woman, a gardener, and a waitress. She’d wrecked her body doing it, and even on her deathbed, she was still worrying about me—afraid the man I’d chosen wouldn’t take proper care of me. I took three days off. Alone, I contacted the funeral home and watched her go into the cremation chamber. It wasn’t until I was holding the urn that I finally collapsed against the wall and sobbed. Eric’s call came through. “You took time off? Why?” I forced down the sound of crying. “I just… wanted to rest for a couple days.” He paused, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “Have you been crying?” I was about to answer when a startled female voice came through from his end: “What happened to Harper? Did some creep grope her on the subway or something? If Eric had been there, no one would’ve messed with her!” Sarah. I had no idea what to say. Before, I would have demanded to know why he was with her again. Told her to mind her own damn business. But now, I just felt tired. When I said nothing, Eric cut in, his tone scolding yet indulgent: “Sarah, knock it off.” “So, Harper, what’s going on?” His voice went soft. “I’m done with work now. Just tell me straight.” All I felt was cold. I mumbled something vague and hung up. After the arrangements were handled, I dragged my exhausted body back to the apartment. The moment I pushed open the door, I froze. Sarah was wearing one of Eric’s dress shirts, bare-legged, curled up in his arms watching a movie. I’d begged him countless times to watch movies with me. He’d always pat my head: “I’ve got a multi-million-dollar case to deal with. Next time, Harper. I promise I’ll make up for every movie I owe you.” He could find the time to watch movies with someone else, but he’d never kept a single promise to me. Was he really that busy? Or was it because I never threw tantrums—so I was the one whose feelings didn’t require maintenance? Hearing me come in, Sarah looked up: “Oh! Harper’s home!” She opened the shoe cabinet with practiced ease, trotted over, and held out a pair of disposable slippers. “Come in, come in—it’s cold outside.” I looked down. On her feet were my favorite fuzzy slippers. As if she were the lady of this house. Before I moved in with Eric, I’d had a Maine Coon I’d raised for three years. He made me give it away, citing his germophobia. Yet now he casually took the blanket he always used and draped it over Sarah’s shoulders. He turned to me, his tone as light as if he were discussing tomorrow’s weather: “Harper, Sarah’s landlord kicked her out today. We’ve got a spare room anyway—let her stay for a while.” “You’ve always been reasonable. I know you won’t make a fuss about it.” Reasonable. I’d been hearing that word for too many years. I looked up, eyes rimmed red. “And what if I do make a fuss?” He stared at me, stunned. I spoke softly: “Eric, let’s break up.” —

The air went still for a beat. Eric’s brows drew together: “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Exactly what it sounds like,” I said. “If you two want to live together, there’s a hotel across the street. Get a room.” Sarah’s eyes reddened, her lower lip caught between her teeth: “Harper, you’ve got it wrong! Eric and I aren’t like that… If it upsets you, I’ll leave right now…” She wiped at her eyes and made to go, but Eric grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him, shielding her. His face went completely cold: “Harper, watch what you say. What’s the point of bullying a young girl?” “How many times have I told you—Sarah is like a little sister to me. We grew up together. She doesn’t know anyone else in Manhattan. What’s wrong with me looking out for her?” “And don’t forget—this is *my* apartment!” Watching movies with her was looking out for her. Moving her into the apartment he shared with his girlfriend was looking out for her. Fighting with me over and over for her sake—all just looking out for her. I smiled bitterly: “OK. Keep looking out for her, then. I’ll move out.” I walked straight to the bedroom to pack. Eric soothed the shaken Sarah and coaxed her into taking a shower before finally appearing in the doorway: “Haven’t you made enough of a scene?” “It’s the middle of the night. Where would you even go? Besides, you have work tomorrow.” When I didn’t stop packing, he softened his tone. “…I promise there’s nothing between us.” My hands stilled. I looked at him: “Eric, do you remember the call I made three days ago?” He pressed his lips together. “I was busy. Forgot to call you back.” “Busy with what?” “Work.” The answer came fast, but his eyes slid away from mine. He’d been with Sarah. I didn’t call him out on it. I quietly zipped my suitcase shut. Seven years, and everything I’d left in this apartment didn’t even fill a twenty-four-inch carry-on. On the couch, Sarah’s clothes and snacks were piled everywhere. Eric blocked the door: “Is this really necessary? All because I didn’t return a phone call?” “Harper, you’re almost thirty. Aren’t you a little old for this childish running-away act?” He rubbed his brow. “I don’t have the energy to coax you back.” I didn’t need him to. I stepped around him and saw the key hanging behind the door. Early in our relationship, he’d pressed it into my palm with a tender smile: “Welcome home, my lady. From now on, this place is our safe harbor.” What a shame that *from now on* was over. I pulled the key off its hook and tossed it on the cabinet, then yanked open the front door. Eric’s expression shifted—he moved to stop me—but from the bathroom, Sarah called out timidly: “Eric, I forgot to grab a towel. Could you get me one?” Eric turned away without a second’s hesitation. From inside, Sarah’s voice came, soft and coy: “Eric, maybe I should just leave. Harper’s so upset…” His tone carried a trace of contempt he didn’t seem to notice: “Relax. She won’t actually leave. She loves me too much. This is just her throwing a tantrum for show—she’ll be back in a couple days.” I smiled, bitter to the bone. So he did know I loved him. But Eric—even love runs out eventually. I pulled my suitcase through the door and let it close behind me. At the hotel, I opened my laptop and started writing my resignation letter. —

Vivian, the HR manager, didn’t approve my resignation. She asked me to come to her office the next day to talk. The next morning brought a downpour. I hadn’t brought an umbrella and was drenched by the time I ran into the building. I was wringing water from my clothes in the lobby when a black Bentley pulled up outside. Eric stepped out with an umbrella, sheltering Sarah in the crook of his arm as they climbed the steps together. He spotted me and frowned. “Why didn’t you call me for a ride?” Sarah covered her mouth. “Seriously, Harper—it’s on the way! You’re soaking wet. What kind of image does that give the company?” I said nothing, quietly straightening my wet sleeves. I’d asked him so many times before. On rainy days when I couldn’t get a cab, I’d ask if he could pick me up since he drove right past. He’d only ever reply with cold indifference: “I’m in a rush. Besides, it wouldn’t look good if colleagues saw. Just take an Uber.” I looked up at him: “Director Eric, we’ve already broken up. Please don’t say things that could give people the wrong idea.” A flash of triumph flickered in Sarah’s eyes. Eric’s gaze went ice-cold: “Fine. Let’s see how long you keep this up. Sarah, let’s go.” In her office, Vivian sighed: “Harper, are you sure about this?” She studied me, her expression caught between admiration and regret. “Back then you turned down an offer from an international firm to come here for Eric. You’ve finally worked your way up to project lead. Quitting over a lovers’ quarrel—it’s not worth it.” Vivian was my college classmate. I gave a tired smile. “Vivian, this isn’t spite. We really broke up.” “My grandma passed away. I want to take her home. Manhattan isn’t the place for me anymore.” She stared at me for a long time, then sighed: “Alright. But you’ve been on this core project for three years. You need to see it through—it’ll be important for your next job search.” I agreed, grateful. My flight was booked for next Wednesday—just enough time to wrap things up. To finish sooner, I stayed late working into the night. At some point Eric appeared, rapping his knuckles on my desk, holding out an iced latte: “Why aren’t you answering my messages?” I checked my phone. An iMessage from two hours ago: **[What kind of milk do you take in your coffee?]** Meanwhile, Sarah had just posted on Instagram—more than a dozen coffee cups spread across her desk, captioned: **[Eric’s such a dummy—didn’t know what I liked so he ordered one of EVERYTHING. I’m gonna turn into a little piggy! He spilled one though, what a waste 🥺]** I looked at the coffee stain on the rim of the cup in front of me and pushed it straight into the trash. “Sorry. I’m lactose intolerant.” Eric blinked, frowning. “Since when?” “Always.” “Sorry. I forgot.” Silence stretched between us. Eric shifted uncomfortably for a long moment before speaking again: “…Harper, that project you’ve been leading for three years—could you hand it off to Sarah? Let her get some practice?” —

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The day I got out of prison, it was pouring rain. I followed my husband Julian to the cemetery to visit our son Leo. Rain hammered against the headstone. Julian spoke without warning, his voice eerily calm: “The surveillance footage from the day Leo died—I had someone delete it.” My body went rigid. My daughter Maya looked at me without a shred of guilt: “I’m the one who testified that you abused Leo. I helped clear Aunt Sophia’s name.” Over a thousand days and nights of hell in that prison—none of it compared to the agony of the truth being ripped open. I seized Julian by the collar of his suit, tears streaming, demanding to know why. Maya let out a soft laugh: “Leo’s already dead. You can’t seriously expect a pianist like Sophia to go to prison over it?” “You’re just a housewife. A few years behind bars—it’s not like it killed you.” Julian pried my fingers off one by one, his gaze cold and absolute. “Vivian, you will always be the gracious lady of the Reynold family. Sophia bore me Ethan, yet she can never step into the light.” “As long as you don’t make trouble for her and the boy, I guarantee—you won’t be harmed again.” They looked at me the way you’d look at a dog that had outlived its usefulness. And yet later—every one of them would end up on their knees, begging me to come back. … I crumpled at the foot of my son’s grave, my entire body plunged into ice. Julian crouched down and, with those hands sheathed in bespoke leather gloves, brushed the wet hair from my face. “Vivian, you went digging into Sophia behind my back. That was very disobedient of you.” “So I sent a few men—just to teach you a lesson. To help you learn to be quiet.” “I didn’t expect them to go so far. Breaking your leg like that—it wasn’t intentional.” My lips began to tremble. That day, I’d just gotten my hands on the critical evidence—proof that Sophia had pushed Leo into the lake. Before I could even dial the police, several men pinned me to the concrete floor of the parking garage and smashed my kneecap with a baseball bat. Maya glanced down at me kneeling in the mud: “Spare us the victim act.” “Sophia was about to perform her solo recital at Carnegie Hall, and you just had to go stirring up trouble.” “Dad never meant to hurt you that badly. You forced his hand.” My daughter. Every word out of her mouth was an exoneration for the woman who killed her brother. I dragged myself upright, summoned every ounce of strength left in my body, and slapped my daughter across the face with everything I had. *Crack!* Maya clutched her burning cheek, frozen in shock. Julian shoved me away: “Vivian! Have you lost your mind?! Hitting a child!” I slammed into the ice-cold headstone, blinding pain exploding through my skull. Blood mixed with rain ran into my eyes, staining the entire world a savage, hopeless red. Two hulking bodyguards seized me by the arms, hauled me up, and threw me into the back seat of a car. They dragged me all the way back to the estate on Long Island. In the master bedroom, Julian slammed an adoption agreement down in front of me. “Sign this. Make Ethan legally yours—give him a proper place in this family.” Ethan. His bastard son with Sophia. I swept the wine and porcelain off the coffee table in one violent motion, my eyes burning as I glared at him: “Julian, you’re out of your goddamn mind!” “That woman murdered Leo! I will die before I raise her spawn!” Shards of porcelain sliced open the back of my hand, blood dripping onto the Persian rug. Julian’s brow creased slightly. He pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from his breast pocket and pressed it to my wound: “Vivian, stop being unreasonable.” “All you have to do is show a little of that high-society grace. Accept Sophia and the child.” “You’ll still be my legitimate wife. The title of lady of this estate—it will always be yours.” Nausea churned through me. I wrenched my hand free with every bit of force I could muster. Julian’s expression went utterly dark: “When you’ve learned to think like a proper woman of your station, we’ll talk.” He turned and walked out. The door slammed shut behind him like a verdict. Trembling, I pulled out my phone and booked a one-way ticket to Miami. —

Through the closed door, the servants’ whispers carried with shameless clarity: “Mr. Reynold absolutely dotes on Ethan—tomorrow’s adoption gala is going to be even grander than his wedding to the missus.” “I’ll say. Mr. Reynold took the helicopter to Paris last night just to pick up a custom Dior suit for the boy.” I leaned against the cold wall. I thought of that winter night in the federal women’s prison. A hundred-and-four-degree fever, dragging my ruined leg, pounding on the iron door all night long begging for help. That same night, every major news outlet and TikTok feed in America was running footage of Julian at an auction, bidding a fortune on jewels for Sophia. The gossip outside my door continued: “But isn’t tomorrow Leo’s anniversary?” “Well, Vivian never had Mr. Reynold’s heart, did she? Looks like Ethan’s going to be the heir from now on.” My nails dug crescents into my palms. Before long, the door opened. Julian carried in a glass of warm milk and set it on the nightstand. “Vivian, I’ve already contacted the top orthopedic specialist in the country.” “Your leg can still be saved. Next week I’ll have the jet take you for reconstructive surgery.” He reached out, fingers moving to stroke my hair. I slapped his hand away. The mask of tenderness vanished from Julian’s face in an instant: “Vivian, I’ve gone out of my way for you at every turn. Found you the best doctors in the world.” “How much longer are you going to keep up this irrational nonsense?” I looked up, my stare cutting through him: “Having thugs break my leg—that was going out of your way for me?” “Using your power to shield the woman who murdered our son—that was going out of your way for me?” Julian rubbed his temples, his voice saturated with exhaustion and exasperation: “You’re the one who ruined Leo! A child that young, pointing at someone’s face and cursing at them in public!” “All Sophia did was give him a little shove. Who could’ve predicted a shallow lake would actually drown someone?” “To this day, Sophia’s still seeing a therapist. She tortures herself over it every single day! You can’t pin all the blame on an innocent person!” To protect a murderer, Julian was willing to throw dirt on a five-year-old corpse. I thought of when I was eighteen. Kneeling in the blood-soaked floor of a tenement apartment, my father’s murdered body at my feet, my mother’s wrists slit open beside him. Julian burst through the door and pulled me—shattered, hopeless—into his arms: “Don’t be afraid… From now on, you have me. I’ll protect you with my life.” Every vow, every whispered promise—all of it had rotted into a stinking pool of dead water. “Julian, let’s get a divorce. I’ll set you free.” “I don’t want anything except Leo’s ashes.” Julian’s face went terrifyingly dark: “Divorce? Keep dreaming.” “Tomorrow’s adoption gala—you will be there as the lady of the Reynold family.” “Otherwise you’ll never learn where Leo’s ashes are.” He released me abruptly and stormed out, slamming the door. I stumbled out of the room, half-running down the corridor until I stopped in front of a painfully familiar door at the end of the hall. I pushed it open. What had once been Leo’s nursery was now filled with girls’ children’s clothing, gowns, and an entire wall of Hermès bags. On the wall hung an enormous portrait—Sophia and Ethan, mother and son. This room… had become their personal closet. “Like what you see?” Sophia leaned against the doorframe, swirling a glass of red wine, her eyes glittering with amusement. “When Leo fell into the water, he kept crying and calling for his mommy.” “I’m the one who pushed him back under every time he tried to climb out.” “It took him a full five minutes to stop struggling. When he finally died, his eyes were open so, so wide…” I raised my hand and swung at her face with every shred of remaining strength. Sophia didn’t flinch. The corner of her mouth curled upward. The next instant—searing pain exploded through the back of my skull. I crashed to the ground. The world went black. —

A bucket of ice water crashed over my head, shocking me awake. Bodyguards shoved an ill-fitting gown onto my body and pushed me from backstage into the banquet hall. Instantly—blinding spotlights and a hundred camera flashes erupted in unison, exposing my soaking, wretched figure to every socialite in New York. “So that’s the woman who killed her own child?” “How does she even have the nerve to still be alive? Disgusting.” “Julian’s so unlucky—married to that crippled psychopath.” Laughter and scorn closed in around me. Sophia walked over in towering heels, Ethan’s hand in hers. “Vivian, there you are. You must’ve suffered so much all those years inside.” She wore a Chanel haute couture gown that I recognized instantly—Julian had commissioned it for me as an anniversary gift. I stared at the dress that should have been mine, bile rising in my throat. Five-year-old Ethan suddenly launched himself at me and kicked my left leg—directly into the shattered kneecap. I screamed. Pure reflex—I pushed him away. Ethan toppled onto the carpet and burst into wails. “What are you doing?!” Maya came shrieking across the room, scooping Ethan into her arms, glaring at me with venom: “Haven’t you had enough?! Do you want to go back to prison?!” Julian closed the distance in one stride, his fingers clamping around my arm like a vise: “Do you have to make a scene in front of all these people?!” I fought to wrench free of his grip, dragging my leg, trying to reach the door. Sophia dabbed at her tears and turned to address the surrounding reporters: “Vivian, wasn’t it enough to hurt your own child? Now you’re going after innocent little Ethan too?” “As Julian’s childhood sweetheart, I shouldn’t involve myself in their marriage—but I simply can’t stand by and watch!” Her flawless victim performance had every socialite in the room shaking their heads in sympathy. Then the massive LED screen at the center of the hall lit up without warning. Reporters with microphones swarmed around me: “Mrs. Reynold, according to our investigation, you come from the slums. Your father was killed by rivals. Your mother took her own life in atonement.” “Did you inherit your family’s violent genes? Is that what makes you so vicious?” Flashbulbs strobed. A wall of black microphones pressed against my lips. Buried nightmares surging back paralyzed me where I stood. It took an eternity before I found my voice, and I screamed it with everything I had: “I was framed!!” “Sophia is not Julian’s childhood sweetheart! She’s the other woman who destroyed our marriage!” “Ethan is her bastard son with Julian! Those two killed my son Leo!!” The entire hall plunged into deathly silence. The color drained from Sophia’s face. She swayed on her feet. Julian wrapped a possessive arm around her. He let out a long, pained sigh for the audience, his voice heavy with sorrow: “I’m sorry. My wife suffered severe trauma during her incarceration. She’s experiencing serious psychological delusions.” Then he leaned close to my ear, his whisper surgically cruel: “Apologize to Sophia. Tell everyone she’s not the other woman. Admit you made it up out of jealousy.” I clenched my jaw. “In your dreams.” Julian pulled out his phone, lit the screen, and shoved it in front of my eyes. On it was a message he’d just drafted, addressed to a private military contractor: **[Grind the child’s ashes in the pulverizer.]** My entire body began to convulse. Ice shot from the soles of my feet straight to the crown of my skull. Julian watched me with dead eyes, his thumb hovering over the send button. “No—!!” *Thud.* I dropped to my knees on the freezing marble, tears flooding my vision beyond all control. “I’m sorry… I was jealous of Sophia! I lost my mind! I made it all up!” “I was wrong… I apologize to you both…” —

“Jealousy like that—making a scene over nothing.” “A lunatic like her should be locked in an asylum for life.” I kept my head down, kneeling on the ground, enduring the contempt. Sophia held Ethan’s hand, smiling graciously as she accepted the admiration of New York’s elite. The picture of a perfect family. After the gala ended, Julian pressed the wooden urn into my hands, his tone softening: “Vivian, I know you’ve been wronged. From now on, I’ll keep Sophia away from you.” “You’ve already lost one son. Putting Ethan’s name under yours—think of it as compensation.” I took the urn. My voice was flat, devoid of anything. “Fine.” The instant Julian turned and walked away, I clutched the urn to my chest and ran with everything I had toward the back gate of the estate. But the moment I burst through the alley behind the rear courtyard, a group of masked men in black closed in around me. A dim basement. Sophia withdrew her hand slowly, gazing down at me—battered, broken, curled on the floor shielding the wooden urn beneath my body. A cold smile played on her lips. From her designer handbag, Sophia produced a different urn—white porcelain—and dangled it before my eyes. “Did you really think Julian would give you the real ashes?” My pupils dilated. “Give it to me! Give it to me!!” I lunged like a woman possessed, but the bodyguard’s massive hands slammed my shoulders back down. Sophia crouched, her manicured fingers—nails painted in meticulous lacquer—seizing my chin in a crushing grip: “Julian told me once. When he married you, it was nothing but pity.” “A slum orphan whose mommy and daddy are both dead—what right do you have to be the lady of the Reynold family?” She straightened, carrying the white porcelain urn, and walked toward the garbage bin in the rear courtyard. I lost my mind completely. Hands and knees, I crawled across the floor, leaving a winding trail of blood: “No! Sophia! I’m begging you! Give Leo back to me!!” Martha, the housekeeper, happened to be walking past with a pair of garden shears. I seized the hem of her skirt, clinging with desperate hands: “Martha! You watched me grow up! Help me! Please—save Leo!” Martha stopped. Conflict twisted across her face. In the end, she took one quiet step backward and pulled her skirt free from my grasp: “Mr. Reynold gave his orders.” “Household matters are Sophia’s domain now.” “And if you don’t behave—that goes for you too.” My body froze in place. Boundless cold pierced straight through my heart. Sophia flicked her wrist. Several vagrant men immediately closed in around me. “Have your fun with her.” “And make sure you film every second of her pathetic begging.” The stench—filth and rot—pressed closer. Rough hands tore my evening gown apart. I snatched the pruning shears from the ground and drove the blade against my own carotid artery. The sharp edge broke the skin instantly. “Get away from me!! One more step and I’ll bleed out right in front of you!!” The smile on Sophia’s face only deepened. She held the urn over the reeking garbage bin, fingers loosening one by one. “Go ahead and try, Vivian.” “You wouldn’t want to see Leo’s ashes mixed in with the garbage, would you?” White powder slipped free, falling straight into the rotting heap below. “No—!!” I threw myself forward like a maddened animal, but a bodyguard’s boot caught me square in the stomach, slamming me to the ground. I could only watch—helpless, screaming—as the last trace of Leo merged with garbage and food scraps until it was indistinguishable from waste. Just then, the iron gate at the back of the courtyard groaned open. I turned my head, numb and hollow, and looked directly into Julian’s face—every drop of blood draining from it. —

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After I slapped my Alpha’s mistress, he had me committed to the Pack infirmary, where they pumped me full of drugs to suppress the agony of a shattered mate bond. My father—the Alpha of the Moore Pack—and my brother Johnathan were being held captive by the Quinn Pack. Every time Sebastian betrayed me, I lay in that infirmary bed, enduring pain that tore through me like my chest was being ripped apart from the inside. It wasn’t until Hedy’s pup was born that I finally worked up the courage to beg him—carefully, meekly—to release my family. Sebastian smiled mockingly and spoke as if his words were of no consequence. “Sera, do you have any idea how I first met Hedy?” My breath caught. My nails dug hard into my palms. “Your father and your brother delivered her to my bed.” “Hedy is your half-sister.” He watched the color drain from my face, his expression dripping with contempt, then unlocked his phone and slid it across to me. “Your father and brother were never imprisoned. They’ve been with Hedy this entire time—all three years.” On the screen, Dad and Johnathan hovered around Hedy and her pup, their faces lit with a contentment and joy I had never once seen directed at me. My vision blurred as my eyes filled with tears. Pain tore through my chest, sharp and slow, like a blade working its way deeper. Sebastian went on, talking as though I weren’t falling apart right in front of him. “Sera, you’ve been very well-behaved these past three years. Keep it up. Whatever you want as compensation—name it.” “Although…” A sly smile tugged at his lips. “Even if I offered, you wouldn’t actually want anything, would you?” I wiped my tears away, lifted my face, and smiled. “Sebastian, then compensate me with a hundred million dollars.” A mate like this. A family like this. I wanted none of it. Sebastian’s expression froze. “What did you just say?” I raised my head and looked him straight in the eye, my voice trembling despite myself. “You said you wanted to compensate me. Then give me money.” “A hundred million. Not a cent less.” The warmth bled out of Sebastian’s gaze. He let out a derisive scoff, then spoke toward the phone on the desk. “Hedy, looks like neither of us guessed right.” At some point, the screen had switched to a live video call. Hedy stared back at me, amusement and mockery written all over her face. “Sera, we placed bets—on what you’d demand from Sebastian once you learned the truth.” “I bet you’d refuse any compensation and trash the office in a meltdown. Sebastian bet you’d use it as leverage to make sure he never dissolved the mate bond.” “As for Dad and Johnathan—one guessed you’d demand Sebastian send me away, and the other guessed you’d hurt yourself to force his hand.” She turned the camera to the side. Dad was cradling Hedy’s pup, beaming from ear to ear—but the moment his eyes landed on me, every trace of warmth vanished from his face. “Sera, I never imagined you could be so shameless. You’re no better than a rogue!” Johnathan stroked Hedy’s hair, his eyes full of tenderness and fond exasperation—yet the instant he looked into the camera, his face went cold. “Sera, I know you’re upset.” “If you need money, I can transfer some into your account. But you shouldn’t be asking Sebastian for it.” “Hedy and Sebastian are in love. They don’t owe you a thing.” “Is that so?” I cut him off, eyes rimmed red. “Stealing my mate. Stealing my father and my brother. Destroying my marriage and my family.” “Stringing me along for three years, leaving me to suffer through three years of a severed mate bond.” “And you call that not owing me anything?” Johnathan frowned. “Sera, there’s no need to be so dramatic about it.” “We didn’t set out to deceive you—but you’ve been stubborn since you were a child. If we hadn’t done it this way, you never would have accepted Hedy.” “Hedy’s been in low spirits since the delivery. We were worried about her postpartum depression, so we came up with this little bet to cheer her up. Don’t take it to heart.” “Well, in that case, just give me the money.” “Dad, give me fifty million dollars. Johnathan, thirty million dollars. And I’ll keep playing along with your charade. How does that sound?” Johnathan’s face went dark. “Seraphina, stop horsing around.” I smiled coldly. “It’s just a bit of pocket change. Don’t tell me the Alphas of two Packs can’t even scrape together that much.” “Enough.” “Since money is what you want, I’ll give it to you.” Sebastian shot me a glance and pulled a document from his desk drawer. “Hedy has given birth. In the Quinn Pack, only the Luna’s children can be recognized as heirs. Sign this agreement to dissolve the mate bond, and a hundred million will be transferred to your account immediately.” I looked at the thin stack of papers. I didn’t hesitate for a single second. I grabbed the pen and wrote my name.

Something complicated flickered across Sebastian’s face as he looked at me. “You really care that much about the money? You never used to be like this…” I swallowed against the pain slicing through my chest and forced out a carefree smile. “If I don’t take the money, what else are you going to give me?” His dark eyes locked onto mine, something unreadable stirring in their depths. “You could beg me not to dissolve the mate bond.” “Sera, all you have to do is ask—and I’ll tear up this agreement right now.” Beg him? I bit down hard on my lip, memories flooding back to the early days after I’d discovered his affair with Hedy. I had begged him. Countless times. I’d even taken a silver dagger to my own wrists to force him to come home. My blood had pooled across the floor, and all it earned me was a single sentence: “Don’t do that again. Hedy can’t stand the sight of blood.” “And then what?” I looked at him calmly, my voice laced with contempt. “Then you’ll tell me this was just another one of your little bets—another game to see how pathetic I’d look.” A bitter laugh scraped out of my throat, raw and aching. “Sebastian, stop testing me.” “Haven’t you had enough fun at my expense these past three years?” Something cold traced a line down my cheek. They were the tears I’d held back for so long. Now they finally fell. Sebastian reached up instinctively and wiped them away. Something that might have been guilt flickered through his eyes. He sighed. “Hedy gave birth to my pup, after all. She’s still young, and a little headstrong. But you’re her older sister. You should be more understanding.” “Don’t worry. I’ll give you back the Luna title. Marrying Hedy is just to secure the pup’s status as heir.” He paused, then added, as if to reassure himself as much as me: “I’ll give you a hundred million dollars, too. Take the money, go enjoy yourself for a while, and once I’ve sorted everything out, we’ll form the mate bond again.” “That should make you happy, right?” I tilted my face up, smiled, and let out a soft “Mm.” “Then book me a flight to Switzerland. We always said we’d visit the Alpine lakes together.” Relief washed over him. He pulled me into a tight embrace. “Okay.” “You go ahead first. Once things are settled here, I’ll join you.” “Sera, wait for me.” I rested my head against his shoulder and said nothing. But I knew, deep down, that I would never wait for him again. Once Sebastian was satisfied that I’d given in, he finally spoke again. “You’ll need to move out of the Pack residence for a while.” “Hedy’s moving in. You know she hasn’t been in the best mood since the delivery. Pack up your things. I don’t want her seeing any of your things and getting upset.” He cleared his throat and produced a set of keys from his drawer. “I’ve arranged a new place for you out in the suburbs.” I said nothing, but my mind drifted to the day I’d first moved into the Quinn Pack. We had designed the Alpha residence together, from the curtains to the painting in the entryway. We’d even planned two nurseries: one in pink, the other in blue. He called it our love nest. He carved a nameplate by hand and hung it on the manor door, our names etched side by side. But later, he’d spent his nights tangled up with Hedy in his office until dawn—while I lay alone in the Pack infirmary, losing our pup. I smiled faintly and placed the keys back in his hand. “It’s fine.” From now on, everything I owned would be new. Not just the house. After leaving Quinn’s Group, I went to the Pack infirmary alone. Over the past three years, I had been brought here countless times, crying until I blacked out from the agony of a shredding mate bond. But none of them knew that I’d met a boy here. I pushed open the door to the room. Sunlight streamed through the window lattice, yet a small wolf lay curled up in the darkest corner, shrinking from the light. If the Pack elders had been here, they might have recognized him—the missing heir of the Hadrian Pack. I spoke softly. “I can afford it now. I’m going to take you home and help you shift back into human form.” Sebastian didn’t know that my real destination wasn’t Switzerland. It was Greece.

When I returned to the Quinn Pack to collect my things, the servants gave me strange looks, hovering as if they wanted to say something but couldn’t quite bring themselves to. I frowned and walked into the living room. Then I understood why. Everything I owned had been thrown haphazardly across the floor. And there was Hedy, descending the staircase in a snow-white wedding gown. I bit my lip and stared at her. She gathered the skirt and smiled. “Sera, this is the wedding dress Sebastian designed for you by hand, isn’t it?” “Well, Sebastian’s already given it to me.” “He said you’ve let yourself go—you can’t even fit into it anymore. Good thing someone who can appreciate it came along.” She lifted the hem and twirled. “Sera, what do you think? Does it suit me? Do I look beautiful?” The white gown shimmered like a dream beneath the crystal chandelier. Hedy’s face was radiant, brimming with triumph and joy. Back then, Sebastian had spent several sleepless nights finishing the design sketches for that dress. The first time I put it on, he said: “Sera, this is the only dress like it in the world—for the only girl like you.” His words still echoed in my ears, but his heart had already changed. What Hedy didn’t realize was that I’d already given up Sebastian himself. Why would I still care about a dress that meant nothing to me now? I smiled placidly, and my clenched fists slowly uncurled. “Hedy, hasn’t anyone ever told you that when you take someone else’s things, you have to pay for them?” “That gown is worth thirty million dollars. I want the money in my account today.” Hedy’s expression shifted in an instant. “You bitch! You stole Sebastian, and took my family for all these years. How dare you still have the nerve to ask for money!” She raised her hand and tried to slap me. But the gown’s skirt was far too heavy. I simply sidestepped half a pace, and Hedy tripped over the fabric and crashed to the floor. Dad and Johnathan came rushing down the stairs. “Hedy, what happened?” My brother glared at me with fury in his eyes. “Seraphina, did you bully Hedy again?!” Before I could get a word out, a palm cracked hard across my face. A searing sting spread across my cheek. I stared at my father in disbelief. His face was flushed. His voice cold and sharp. “I know you’ve never truly accepted Hedy. But she just gave birth, her body is still weak. How could you do this to her?” Hedy sniffled, playing the wounded innocent. “Dad, don’t be mad at Sera. It’s not her fault. She said the dress costs thirty million dollars, and if I don’t pay her, I don’t deserve to wear it. But I don’t have any money… She didn’t push me on purpose.” She lifted her pitiful gaze. “It’s all because I can’t afford to pay her. Dad, Johnathan—if we give her the money, will she stop being angry at me?” Dad gave a derisive snort, fury blazing across his face. “Hedy, you’re too kindhearted. Give that bitch money? Over my dead body! I should have known she’s just like her mother. A gold-digging whore!” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I pressed my hand to my stinging cheek and stared at him. His face was twisted with venom, curse after curse spilling from his lips. The mask of fatherly love he’d worn for years seemed to crack before my eyes. Johnathan was quick enough to step in and hold him back. “Dad.” A flicker of hope kindled in my chest. But then, cold as ice, came his next words: “If you push her too far and she makes a scene at Hedy’s wedding, it’ll be a disaster.” “Since she wants money so badly, just give it to her. Think of it as being robbed by a rogue.” He pulled out a check and tossed it at my feet, his voice dripping with disgust. “There. A check for thirty million dollars.” “Take it and get out. Don’t ever show your face around Hedy again and ruin our day.” I lowered my eyes and stared at the check, drawn on the Moore Pack’s account. The last thread of attachment in my heart finally went dark. I bent down slowly, picked up the check, and smiled as if none of it mattered. I looked at the luggage strewn across the living room and decided I no longer cared to sort through any of it. “Since you’re spending money on everything your new sister wants, as your old sister, I certainly won’t stick around here.” “From this day on, I no longer belong to the Moore Pack!” I dug my ID card out of the pile of luggage on the floor, turned around and walked away. “Wait—”

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At dinner, Mom always tossed Dad a bowl and made him crouch by the table to eat, like a dog. She said men who cheated didn’t deserve a seat at the table. Dad always looked at her with quiet remorse and lowered himself down without a word. Sometimes, watching him hunched on the floor in his sharp-tailored suit, scraping at his food, a flicker of something soft would cross Mom’s eyes. Then came Dad’s birthday. That day, Mom smiled, which was rare, and told me a secret: I was going to have a little sister. She bought a big cake and set it on the table, ready to share the good news with Dad, ready to let the past turn a page. But when Dad came home, he brought Mom’s best friend Rachel with him, along with a little boy who looked about three. The boy called out timidly, “Daddy.” Dad’s back was straight for once. He wasn’t avoiding her eyes the way he usually did. “Lucas is my son with Rachel. I’m bringing him home.” Mom’s face went white. The wine glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. … Mom walked over quietly. Dad instinctively stepped in front of Rachel and the little boy. But Mom only reached up and placed the birthday hat on his head. She patted his shoulder. She said nothing. Then she took my hand. She was going to take me out of that house. I could feel how cold her palm was. I knew, in that moment, that whatever had tied her to this home was gone. “Claire—” Rachel chased after us and blocked the way. Her eyes were red, tears clinging to her cheeks. She looked more heartbroken than Mom did. “You… blame me, if you have to blame someone.” Her hands were shaking as she reached for Mom, who pulled away. I had seen Mom and Rachel at their closest, curled up together under one blanket watching a movie, both of their faces lit with the same bright laughter. Now there was an invisible wall between them. “Daniel didn’t cheat. He doesn’t love me. I begged him…” “I just wanted to help. I couldn’t stand watching the two of you drift apart because of a child…” She caught Mom’s hand, tears spilling down her face. “Rachel. We’ve known each other for twenty years.” Mom’s voice was quiet. “Put your hand on your heart and tell me. When you slid into bed with Daniel, when you got pregnant with his child, did you think of me? Even once?” Rachel’s mouth opened, closed. Tears ran into her lips. She didn’t answer. “You didn’t.” Mom said it flatly. I looked up at her. Her eyes held nothing but a still, frozen calm. “Claire, I did! I thought about you!” Rachel was crying harder now. “From now on, my child will be your child too. We can all live together. If you’re not happy, I…” She glanced back at Dad, biting her lip. “I can crouch and eat with Daniel, too.” Before Mom could speak, Dad exploded. “Enough!” He shoved Mom hard. She stumbled and slammed into the corner of the table. A quiet, pained sound escaped her lips. Dad planted himself in front of Rachel and glared at Mom. “You’ve humiliated me enough. Don’t you dare lay a finger on Rachel or Lucas.” Mom stood there, head bent, spine curved, unable to straighten up for a long time. I squeezed her hand, worried. Then, after a long silence, she gave a low, broken laugh. “Now you call it humiliation? Daniel, this is what you owe me.” Her head snapped up. The whites of her eyes were shot through with red as she stared him down. “Or have you forgotten?”

At those words, Dad froze. Rachel’s face crumpled with something like guilt. I knew exactly what Mom was talking about. I had been very small then, but I remembered. I had seen her, drenched in blood, with my own eyes. Mom was the only heir to the Whitfield Group. Not long after I was born, she went back to work. The company was in the middle of a major restructuring, and it couldn’t run without her at the helm as CEO. Grandmother waited until Mom wasn’t home, and had Dad quietly take me out to the old family estate in the countryside. I was terrified of this strange place. I cried and cried for Mom, but Grandmother ignored me, and didn’t give me any food. The sky grew completely dark. Then she brought out a large bowl. It was too heavy for me to lift. Inside was some milk, grayish, with tiny specks of dust floating on the surface. I was starving. I got down on my knees, stuck out my tongue, and lapped at the milk, clumsy, one lick at a time. Like a puppy. That was when Mom arrived. The moment she saw it, something in her broke. She rushed over, scooped me up, and turned to run. Grandmother stopped her. She turned back, shoved the front door shut, and let the bolt drop with a heavy thud. “You worthless thing. What’s the rush?” Mom didn’t answer. She just held me tighter and watched the old woman warily. “The Whitfields have a whole empire. What good is a girl?” Grandmother’s mouth curled downward with contempt. “A family needs more than one child. Fine, Daniel doesn’t have the stomach for it. It doesn’t matter…” She paused, and smiled. “He has an older brother.” Mom’s face drained of color. I could feel her heart racing, and I started to cry. Heavy footsteps came from behind us. A man shambled out of the back room. There was something wrong with him. Drool hung from the corner of his mouth, dripping down in slow beads. When he saw Mom, his eyes lit up. “Baby… Baby…” He lurched toward her. Mom scrambled to get out of the way, and while she was distracted, Grandmother snatched me from her arms. “Please, calm down. I have money. I can pay to have him treated. Just don’t touch Lily…” Mom’s voice, always so composed, was breaking with panic as she pleaded. “Treat him?” Grandmother laughed coldly. “He can’t be fixed. And I’ve stopped trying.” “Give him a child. That way I’ve done right by my firstborn.” She stepped back and tilted her head toward the door behind her. “Go with Marcus. Otherwise, you can forget about taking this girl anywhere.” Mom looked at the old woman, then at me. Her eyes were red. “Mother, I’ll go. Just don’t hurt Lily. She’s your granddaughter too.” The door closed. I didn’t dare cry. I didn’t dare move. I could only stare, frozen, at that dark doorway. It felt as though the door had swallowed my mother whole. I don’t know how long it was before Dad came. He broke down the door and carried Mom out, soaked in blood. Rachel picked me up. Her hands shook, and her eyes burned with hate.

After that, Mom was in the hospital for a long time. Every day I waited for her to come home. I missed her so much. But the mother who came back was not the one I had known. She was quiet now. Nothing interested her. She didn’t run the household. She didn’t ask about the company. Only when Dad was in the room did something ignite in her, and it was pure hatred. Rachel came often to sit with her, but nothing anyone did could make her smile again. Until my birthday. That was the happiest day I can remember. For one day, Mom seemed like her old self. She took me shopping for a beautiful princess dress. She made a little crown for me with her own hands. She invited Dad and Rachel over, and the four of us had a warm, quiet birthday at home. Mom’s smile was so soft. I thought maybe everything was going to be all right. But the next day, all of it shattered. I woke to the sound of voices in the living room. I peeked through the crack of the door. Dad was on his knees. Mom stood over him, clutching a shirt. “Daniel. Whose lipstick is on this collar?” Dad kept his head down and said nothing. Mom threw the shirt in his face. Her voice came out hoarse, like it wasn’t hers. “Have you been sleeping with someone else? How could you do this to me?” He still didn’t answer. But from that day on, Dad never sat at our table again. “Rachel. I lied to myself for years. I couldn’t let myself believe that the woman he was seeing was you.” “I would rather have been wrong than have to prove it.” Mom’s eyes glistened as she stared at Rachel. Rachel sank to the floor, shoulders trembling. Whatever guilt had lived in Dad’s eyes vanished. “Claire, that’s enough. Rachel is already suffering. What more do you want?” “When it comes down to it, wasn’t going in there your own choice?” “For you, I had my own mother sent to prison. I accepted that.” “But you’re not exactly clean either. What gives you the right to look down on us?” Mom’s head snapped up. The hatred in her eyes could have burned them alive. The room fell silent. Rachel slowly got to her feet. “Claire, stop pushing me. I don’t want to destroy what you two have. I’ll leave!” She grabbed the little boy and rushed out of the house like a gust of wind.

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After the engagement party, Ethan Caldwell brought family and friends back to the apartment to show off the smart home system I had installed. He held my hand and steered me to the middle of the living room. “From now on, you have the highest access in this house.” I laughed and said it three times. “Close the curtains.” The system didn’t respond. The guests laughed uncomfortably. Someone tried to smooth it over for me. “Her voice print probably hasn’t been registered yet, right?” Ethan’s expression shifted. He was about to end the demonstration. Then the ceiling lit up, and a woman’s voice filled every wall. “Ethan, I’m home.” The curtains slid shut on their own. The thermostat dropped to sixty-six degrees. Warm accent lighting rolled across the whole apartment. The system replied gently, “Welcome home, Vivian Shaw.” The room went silent. Vivian Shaw. The woman Ethan had lost three years ago. The one he’d never really let go of. I stood there in the light with my hands and feet turning cold. I had watched the crew install every line of this system myself, working late into the night alongside them. But it remembered that she couldn’t stand the heat, remembered she liked this exact lighting, remembered the soft lilt at the end of her voice when she called Ethan’s name. I was the one it didn’t recognize. Ethan yanked the master power cord out of the wall. “It’s just a memorial program. Don’t take it to heart,” he said, his voice rough. A second later, the darkened screen lit up again on its own. Her face. Vivian’s face. It appeared on the wall and smiled at me. “Outsider, Iris Langley. Please leave my home.” … I clutched the water glass Ethan pressed into my hand. The heat of it burned my palm red. Ethan came back to himself and moved to block the projection. I stared at his back. “Why are you standing in her way?” He turned, and something flickered across his face. “Iris. Don’t do this right now.” “I’ll delete it after everyone leaves.” I let out a small laugh. “I’m doing this?” “This is our engagement party. And your system just called me an outsider in front of every guest in the room.” Someone next to us tried to defuse it. “Come on. Smart systems glitch all the time. And you know, Vivian’s gone. It’s not really right to rush and erase things a dead person left behind.” I turned to look at whoever had said it. They shut up. Ethan took my hand, his fingers tightening around mine. “I know this hurts.” “Give me a little time. Don’t make a scene in front of everyone.” I pulled my hand free. “Which one of us is making a scene right now?” Ethan didn’t answer. He reached for my hand again. “Iris. You’re my fiancée.” The system responded tenderly, “Mistress designation error detected. Suggested address: Vivi.” The whole room fell silent. Ethan crossed to the main console and started ripping cables out. He talked as he did it. “An old recording got triggered by accident. It’s not what you think.” I set the glass down. “Ethan. Don’t bother. I’m leaving.” I walked to the entryway. The lock lit up red. “Iris Langley does not have after-hours exit privileges. Please wait for owner authorization.” I stared at the words and clenched my fingers. During the installation Ethan had said the paperwork was a hassle and let me register every verification account in my own name. And yet somehow I was the only person in this apartment without permission to leave. I pressed the door release three times. The red light never went out. Ethan came over and opened the door with his fingerprint. The lock clicked. And through the speakers came Vivian’s voice again. “Ethan. Don’t leave me.” Ethan’s hand froze on the handle. I didn’t rush him. All he had to do was pull the door open and offer to walk me out, and I would have found a reason to convince myself to stay. He looked back at the projection wall. “Tonight’s been a mess. Can you just not leave? Please.” I let go of the handle. I didn’t argue anymore. He led me to the guest room. There was a bottle of pillow spray on the nightstand. There was a name on the label. Vivian. I picked it up and dropped it into the trash. Ethan came in, bent down, and fished it back out. “They don’t sell this scent anymore,” he said. I asked, “Is everything of Vivian’s more important than me?” He paused. Then he came over and put his arms around me. His voice went low. “No. The person I’m marrying is you.” I closed my eyes. But the bottle was still in his hand. Sometime in the middle of the night, the guest room lights came on by themselves. The system announced softly, “Please practice Vivian’s goodnight recording, Iris.”

I didn’t sleep. At sunrise I sat down in the living room and opened the system’s admin panel. The login page showed my email. But it refused me management rights. I opened the household member list. Ethan. Ethan’s mother. A grayed-out profile for Vivian. And Vivian’s mother, Linda Hayes. My name was at the bottom. My status wasn’t fiancée. It wasn’t family member either. It was “adaptation subject.” Ethan came out with breakfast. There were lilies of the valley on the dining table. I sat down, and my throat immediately started to itch. He got up to move the flowers. The system chimed in. “Lily of the valley was Vivian’s favorite. Retention recommended during the engagement period.” Ethan’s mother frowned. “Iris. Bear with it. It’s just flowers.” I looked at Ethan. He stood there holding the vase, unmoving. Finally, he said, “I’ll have someone put them a little further away.” The system continued. “Vivian’s breakfast preferences do not match. Please correct Iris’s selection.” I looked at him. “Did you hear what it just said?” He reached over and switched off the speaker. “Ignore it.” “Muting the speaker doesn’t delete the program.” His hand stopped on the switch. “There’s too much going on before the wedding.” “Once the wedding is over, I’ll wipe the system.” “Why does every single thing have to wait until after the wedding?” He didn’t answer. The doorbell rang. I opened the door. My mother stood outside holding a paper bag. She had just been discharged from the hospital. She had to brace herself against the doorframe to stay upright. She still smiled and held the bag out to me. “I finished your scarf. I was worried you’d be cold at the wedding.” I reached out to help her inside. The lock flashed red. “Temporary visitor. Please wait for owner authorization.” Mom’s hand froze on the bag. “It’s fine. High-tech things, you know.” I looked back at Ethan. He came over and cleared her. “Mrs. Langley. The system’s been acting up. Please don’t take it personally.” She waved him off. “Not at all.” The moment she stepped inside, Vivian’s voice came over the speakers. “Mom. You’re here.” A profile card popped up on the wall. Linda Hayes. Family. Permanent access. Mom sat down. The system chimed again. “Temporary visitor access remaining: nine minutes, fifty-eight seconds.” Her fingers tightened on the paper bag. She didn’t open it. Instead she took the scarf out and held it out to me. “The color might be a little plain. If you don’t like it, I can knit you a new one.” I took the scarf and pressed it against my chest. “I love it.” I turned to Ethan. “Why is my mother a temporary visitor while Vivian’s mother is permanent family?” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Those permissions are old. I never noticed.” “You never noticed. And me? I’m listed as an adaptation subject. Did you never notice that either?” Ethan pressed his lips together. “Iris. Not in front of your mother.” I gave a thin smile. “So I’m the one being unreasonable again.” Mom pulled at my sleeve. “Iris, don’t fight. Cool off and talk about it later.” I wanted to walk out. But she had just gotten out of the hospital. The wedding invitations had already gone out. I needed to know. Was this a glitch? Or was Ethan doing it on purpose? The door closed. The system scanned the scarf in my hand. “Does not match Vivian’s color palette. Replacement recommended.” I grabbed a decorative piece off a nearby shelf and hurled it at the sensor. Ethan heard the crash and rushed in, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “Iris. Don’t.” I tried to pry his arms off. I couldn’t. “It said my mother’s work doesn’t belong here.” He tightened his hold. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll have the scarf put away safely. Okay?” I stopped struggling. My phone lit up. A new reminder had appeared on my calendar. 【Day Three. Complete family relationship adaptation.】

The monitoring dashboard was covered in red flags. I started pulling the device logs. I didn’t bring it up with Ethan again. Asking him just meant hearing “I’ll deal with it.” I sat on the floor of the guest room and logged in with the engineering account I’d kept from installation. Following the log trail, I opened Vivian’s old data records. There was no clinginess in them. No performing for anyone. Just late nights refining project proposals, and clear, level-voiced messages telling Ethan to stop interfering with her work. She had been independent. Proud. And in death she had been trapped inside a system that called itself love. It was pathetic and it was cruel. The system was recording me every single day. The bedroom. The kitchen. The bathroom door. The fitting mirror. The entryway. Every clip came tagged. Tone deviation. Intonation deviation. Emotional deviation. I opened one. It was from six months ago, when I had the flu. I remembered that night. Ethan had sat by the bed coaxing me to take my medicine. I had said his name. “Ethan. I feel awful.” He had lifted me up and said, “I’m here.” I had always thought that moment belonged only to us. But now the recording had been sliced into fragments. Beside each one was a tag. Correctable material. The handle turned. Ethan stood in the doorway, eyes on my screen. I asked, “When I was sick, why were you recording this?” He came in. “I just wanted to keep the moments when you needed me.” “Then why did you have to break my voice apart?” He didn’t answer. He crouched down and reached for my hand. I moved my hand away and kept scrolling. I opened the system photo album. Every picture of me and Ethan was split into two versions. Original and Enhanced. In the enhanced version, the corner of my mouth had been lifted. My hair color and eye makeup had been altered. Below it read, “Similarity to Vivian increased by twelve percent.” I remembered this photo. Ethan had looked at the enhanced version and said, “This is my favorite picture of you.” I turned the phone toward him. “Was it me you loved, or the version of me edited into her?” He gripped the phone. His knuckles went white. “I didn’t know the photos were being altered.” “There’s a lot you don’t know.” That afternoon, the bridal shop called about my fitting. Ethan took my hand. “I’ll go with you.” At the shop, the stylist brought out a gown that wasn’t the one I’d chosen. I stopped in front of it. A high-necked dress. “This isn’t the one I picked.” The stylist glanced at her clipboard, then at Ethan. “Mr. Caldwell confirmed this design last night. This cut suits a bride with short hair better.” The one with short hair wasn’t me. It was Vivian. I turned to Ethan. “I didn’t confirm anything. Maybe the account sent it automatically.” I didn’t say anything. I walked closer to the gown, and realized the high neck would cover the mole on my collarbone. Ethan’s phone lit up on its own. 【Distinguishing feature suppression complete.】 I let out a bitter laugh, turned around, and went back to the fitting room to change into my own clothes. Ethan followed me to the door. “Since we’re already here with this one, could you just keep it?” I stopped. “This is your choice. Not mine.” His lips moved. He tried again. “That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want to make things complicated for the staff.” “Every time something happens, you’re worried about inconveniencing other people. Somehow you’re never worried about upsetting me.” He looked down. He took off his coat and put it around my shoulders. “I’ll order a new one. Whatever style you want, I’ll pick it with you.” I didn’t push his coat off. I didn’t look up either. “Ethan. Which time you said you’d handle something did you actually handle it clean?” His phone lit up again. A notification. 【Complete Iris voice recheck tonight.】 I saw it. He saw it too. He killed the screen. I laughed once. “See? It’s more honest than you are.”

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I was at the hospital waiting for my prenatal results when I got the photos. My husband. And one of his female students. In bed. 【Mrs. Whitmore, wanna guess who he loves more? The baby, or me?】 I drove straight to his office. He didn’t even flinch. “You’re pregnant. I just needed to take care of a normal urge. You’re the only one I love.” To prove it, he deleted her number right in front of me. Not long after, the hospital called me to come pay the bill. “Your husband has penile entrapment and needs surgery. We need a family member’s signature.” I steadied myself against the wall and took the consent form the doctor handed me. The line at the bottom read: after removal, all reproductive function will be permanently lost. I looked at the two of them on the bed, still fused together, and signed. Then I scheduled an abortion for three days later. If he loved living on the edge this much, I’d take him all the way there. … When they wheeled Aiden Whitmore out of surgery, the anesthesia hadn’t fully worn off. His face was the color of paper. He was trying to sit up. The movement tore at his stitches. Cold sweat broke across his forehead. His voice came out cracked. “How’s Lena? Is she okay?” I stood there holding the payment slip, watching the veins jump in his neck, and all I could feel was how absurd this was. He was the one who’d just been cut open on the operating table. And the first words out of his mouth were about whether Lena was in pain. I followed the gurney into the room. He grabbed my hand and held on. “Selene. Tell me. Is she okay?” I pulled my hand free and looked him in the eye, one word at a time. “When the two of you were stuck together, did you stop to ask her? Now that you’re apart, why are you asking me?” I pulled out the bill. My voice was flat. “You’re a professor. Can’t you read the instructions on a sex toy?” His expression darkened. He turned his face away. “You’re three months pregnant. I can’t touch you. So I found someone else to blow off some steam. What’s the big deal? I already told you I don’t feel anything for her. Do you really want to make a scene in a hospital?” I looked at the face I’d loved for seven years, and the only thing I felt was regret. I didn’t argue with him. I turned and went to sign the discharge papers. On the drive home, he held my hand tightly. “Lena and I, it’s just sex. You know how it is. My friends all mess around like that.” “There’s only ever one wife. I know that.” I looked down at his hand around mine. I didn’t pull away right away. He exhaled and tightened his grip. “Go home and rest. I know today was a lot. I promise it won’t happen again.” His promises. I’d heard them so many times my ears had gone numb. Before bed, I took out the disinfectant, the way I always did. His expression changed in an instant. He snatched the bottle out of my hand and hurled it to the floor. Glass sprayed across my calves. Beads of blood rose up and wouldn’t stop. “Enough already. I just had surgery today. Can’t you give it a rest for one goddamn day?” I crouched to pick up the shards. He yanked me back up by the arm. “Selene, I’m telling you right now. Don’t try to use this to control me.” “Did you really think you could keep me on a leash with something like this?” He flung my hand away. I lost my footing and fell backward. My lower back slammed into the corner of the bed. I slid to the floor. My face went bloodless. Something warm was sliding down between my legs. Aiden’s pupils contracted. He scooped me up in a panic and ran for the door. “Selene, don’t scare me like this.” “I’m taking you to the hospital right now. Nothing’s going to happen to you.” I curled up in the back seat. The pain came in waves, dragging my consciousness in and out. I clawed at the seat trying to hold on to something, and my fingers closed around a used piece of lingerie. Beside it, a used imported condom. Aiden’s voice came out guilty. “The lab guys pushed those on me after the project wrapped. I tried them out with Lena first.” I closed my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to deal with him. By the time we reached the hospital, the pain had stolen my voice. He carried me into the ER. His phone kept buzzing against my hip. He glanced at the screen and broke into a sweat. “Lena says she’s hurting down there again. I need to go check on her. I’ll be right back.” He didn’t hesitate. He turned and left. I lay on the exam table with tears sliding out of the corners of my eyes. Close to dawn, Aiden came back reeking of perfume. He saw the anti-miscarriage meds and the diagnosis paperwork on the table and gave a bitter little laugh. “Selene. Your acting is getting really impressive.” “The baby’s fine, isn’t it? You had me over at Lena’s place worrying about you all night.” “And here you are, putting on a whole show over nothing.” I didn’t respond. I picked up my phone and typed out an iMessage. 【Vanessa. Send me that divorce attorney of yours. The one who’s never lost a case.】

When he saw I wasn’t going to speak, he lost interest. He grabbed his coat. “Something came up at the school. I don’t have time to sit around with you.” The door slammed behind him. I sat alone in the hospital room for a long time. Then I asked the nurse to take out my IV and signed my own discharge papers. Back home I started packing. I didn’t want to be scrambling three days from now. The most important thing was the evidence of Aiden’s affair. I screenshotted it page by page. A notification popped up on my phone. Local trending news. “Yale professor rushed to hospital with female student after intercourse-related adhesion. Doctors performed emergency separation on-site.” The video was crystal clear. Aiden and Lena were barely covered by a thin blanket. Every word the doctors said had been recorded. The comment section was on fire. “A Yale professor? So this is what the Ivy League is turning out these days? I’m dying.” “With his own student? Buddy, you can go ahead and bury your career right now.” “His wife’s literally pregnant. Is this guy even human?” The university moved fast. The official announcement said an investigative committee had already been formed. Aiden was suspended from all teaching and research duties. Lena’s situation was under review. I turned off my phone and kept packing. The property deed. The bank statements from every year of our marriage. One folder at a time. Our wedding photo was still sitting on the nightstand. He was smiling with his eyes crinkled up, like a hero coming home from war. The glass already had a crack running through it. I turned the frame face down. My phone lit up. Vanessa had sent me a business card. 【Selene. The cases she takes usually settle at the first hearing.】 The doorbell rang. I opened it, and Lena dropped to her knees at my feet. Her eyes were swollen and red. She grabbed the hem of my pants with both hands. “Mrs. Whitmore. Please. I’m begging you. Let me go.” She was sobbing so hard her voice was barely working. “Please take the video down. If the school expels me, my parents will kill me.” “I’m begging you, Mrs. Whitmore…” I pulled my leg free and spoke coldly. “I didn’t post it. But whoever did? I think they did the right thing.” She lifted her head and stared at me. Her eyes were full of hate. That was when Aiden came home. He walked over in long strides, hauled Lena up, and pulled her against his chest. The look he gave me was ice. “Selene. This time you’ve gone too far.” His voice was heated. He was almost grinding the words out. “If you have a problem, come at me. Lena can’t even go back to her dorm right now. Do you understand that?” Before I could say anything, he drew a long breath. “It’s already all over the news. There’s only one way out of this. We’re getting divorced.” Lena’s head snapped up. Something calculating flickered through her eyes. When I didn’t respond, Aiden reached for my hand. His voice softened. “We’ll get divorced to kill the story. Once the noise dies down, we’ll remarry.” “By then the baby will be here. We’ll be a family of three.” Lena wiped her eyes and spoke softly. “Mrs. Whitmore. Don’t worry. I would never try to take Aiden from you.” I let the corner of my mouth twitch. My voice was very level. “Fine.” Aiden froze for a second. He clearly hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. Lena froze too, watching me like she was trying to work out an angle. I took a step back and started to close the door. “I’ll have my lawyer draft the papers. You can leave now.” Aiden’s face went black. Lena pressed herself against him and murmured, “Aiden, she’s just hurting right now. Let’s go.” He gave a cold snort, grabbed her arm, and left.

I closed the door and looked over the divorce agreement Vanessa’s attorney had just sent. Aiden could have his divorce. But the terms were mine to set. That same night, Lena rushed to go live. She was too young to hold her nerve. By the time I opened the stream, she had over thirty thousand viewers. She was in a little white dress. Her eyes were badly red. Every inch the victim. She covered her face and started to speak, voice choked. “Hi everyone. I’m Lena Bishop. I’m a student at Yale.” “About the video, I’m really sorry for taking up so much public attention.” She wiped clumsily at her tears. “But everything people are saying online is a lie. Professor Whitmore and I are truly in love.” The chat exploded. “Seriously? You slept with a married man and now you’re on live crying for sympathy?” “Girls these days really will do anything for money.” “Where’s the guy? Where’s he hiding? Come out and face this.” Lena bit her lip and looked at the camera, doing her earnest routine. “Professor Whitmore and his wife have been over for a long time. They were already planning to divorce.” “I’m not the other woman. I did nothing wrong.” As the comments turned uglier, she rushed to add: “If you don’t believe me, Professor Whitmore’s wife is going to go live and explain everything.” “Then you’ll all see I’ve been telling the truth.” She ended the stream at record speed. Not long after, my phone rang. I didn’t need to look to know it was Aiden. “She’s young. She can’t handle this kind of pressure. Go live tomorrow and say we’ve been in divorce proceedings for a while.” I didn’t say anything. He took it as anger, and his voice softened. “Selene. I swear to you. This is the last time.” “This is the only way to save my project. You don’t want all these years of my work to go down the drain, do you?” I hung up. I didn’t say yes. I didn’t say no. The doorbell rang. Aiden’s mother stood outside with an armful of health supplements. The moment she settled on the couch, she took my hand with a warmth I’d never seen from her. “Selene. You’ve gotten thinner.” “That’s Aiden. He hasn’t been taking care of you. Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him.” She patted my hand and smiled. “That penthouse in the city? I’ll have it transferred into your name. Consider it a way of making it up to you.” “For the sake of the Whitmore family, go live tomorrow and smooth this over.” I thought about the early years of my marriage, when she had used every chance to grind me down. She had looked down on my family, and at the same time tried to squeeze every last bit of value out of me. I slid my hand out from under hers without making a show of it. Her expression shifted immediately. “All right. I’ll do what you want.” She caught the words and clapped her hands, springing to her feet. “Good girl. I knew you’d see the big picture.” After she left, I went back to organizing my files, one calm step at a time. To make sure nothing slipped through the cracks, I backed everything up to Vanessa. A repeatedly unfaithful Yale professor. I doubted any Ivy would want him now. I was going to watch the Whitmore family destroy their so-called century-old academic legacy with their own hands. I logged into a new social media account and posted my first update. “Hi everyone. I’m Selene Vance, Aiden Whitmore’s wife.” “Tomorrow morning at nine, I’ll be addressing the issue that’s been on everyone’s mind.” But before that, there was something more important I had to do. Something I would end with my own hands.

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The night before our wedding, my fiancé, Don Lucian Bellandi, slid a prenuptial agreement across the desk toward me. “Sign it, Alessia.” His voice was perfectly calm. I turned to the last page and discovered that once I signed, control of the three docks my father had left me would pass to him. And every time I wanted to use my own money, I would need Valentina’s approval first. She was my best friend. Yet there she stood beside Lucian, holding my prenup, with even the pages I needed to sign already folded down for me. “I drafted the agreement with the attorney.” She handed me the pen. “After the wedding, North Harbor will be transferred into the Bellandi family trust. Lucian will oversee operations, and I’ll handle the accounts and any emergencies.” I looked up at her. “Why would you be managing my docks?” Valentina gave a quiet laugh. “Because signing your name is the only thing you know how to do. If North Harbor were really left in your hands, someone would take it from you within a month.” Lucian leaned back in his chair and said nothing. I kept reading. The agreement covered more than North Harbor. It included the warehouses, shipping licenses, and two properties my father had left me. Once I signed, Lucian would become the primary trustee. Valentina would be the secondary trustee. And I, the actual owner, would need approval from one of them before spending more than fifty thousand dollars. “Is this a prenup or a guardianship agreement?” The room went quiet for several seconds. Lucian frowned. “Don’t start acting up now.” That line again. For the past six years, that was what he said every time I disagreed with him. When I refused to move into the Bellandi estate, he called it a tantrum. When I objected to his bodyguards following me into dressing rooms, he said I was being childish. When I wanted to inspect the docks my father had left me, he accused me of risking my life for no reason. Valentina sat down beside me. “Alessia, we’re trying to protect you.” She softened her voice as if she were speaking to a child who could not understand. “You know how many people have been watching North Harbor since Don Vescari died.” Valentina patted the back of my hand. “Without the Bellandi family, you wouldn’t even have made it through your father’s funeral, much less held on to his territory.” “So I should be grateful that you’re taking it from me?” “No one is taking anything from you.” Lucian finally lost his patience. “Once we’re married, we’ll be a family.” I looked at the two names in the agreement. Lucian Bellandi. Valentina Rossetti. They were the ones who looked like a family. I suddenly remembered my visit to the lakeside estate an hour earlier—the house where Lucian and I were supposed to live after the wedding. My dresses hung in the walk-in closet of the master suite, but only Lucian’s and Valentina’s fingerprints had been registered for the safe room. Even the south-facing suite on the second floor had been recarpeted in the dark green Valentina liked. The housekeeper told me it was Miss Rossetti’s room. Whenever she worked late, she would stay at the estate. No one asked what I wanted. No one cared whether I was willing to hand over everything my father had left me. Lucian glanced at his watch. “The wedding is tomorrow morning. Sign it and get some rest.” He placed the pen in my hand. Valentina stood beside him, looking down at me. They were both waiting. Waiting for me to do what I always did—to hesitate, to hurt, and then to obey. I closed my fingers around the pen. Then, in front of everyone, I tore the agreement in half. The rip of paper cracked through the room. Lucian’s expression darkened instantly. “Alessia, do you have any idea what you’re doing?” I tossed the torn agreement onto the desk. “I’m not signing it.” “And tomorrow’s wedding is off.”

No one spoke. Valentina recovered first. “You’re just overwhelmed.” She bent down to gather the torn pages, even managing a small smile. “A lot of brides lose control before their weddings. Go back to your room. We can talk about this tomorrow.” She reached for my arm. I moved out of her reach. “What gives you the right to send me to my room, Valentina?” Her hand froze in midair. Lucian stood. “Enough.” He told the attorney and the witnesses to leave. When the door closed, he walked over to me. “Tell me what you’re so upset about.” I nearly laughed. Every page of that agreement stripped away one of my rights. Yet he was asking why I was upset. “Where were you this afternoon?” Something shifted in Lucian’s eyes. “At a family meeting.” “Which one?” “Alessia.” His voice turned cold. It was a warning. In the past, that tone would have silenced me immediately. But today, I took out my phone and opened a photograph. In it, Valentina held a cigarette between her lips while Lucian shielded the flame with one hand and lit it with the other. They stood so close they looked as if they were kissing. And in Valentina’s hand were the plans to my family’s warehouse. Two Bellandi capos stood behind them, as if Lucian and Valentina were the true master and mistress of North Harbor. The photo had been taken three hours earlier. At the time, Lucian had told me he would come home for dinner as soon as his meeting ended. “What were you doing at my docks?” Lucian stared at the photograph for a moment. “Warehouse Seven needs to be renovated after the wedding.” “Who approved that?” “It’s necessary.” “Who approved it?” I asked again. Valentina frowned. “Security at North Harbor is inadequate. Lucian plans to move some of the family’s cargo there. We were only inspecting the site in advance.” “What kind of cargo?” She fell silent. North Harbor operated under legitimate shipping licenses. My father had set one absolute rule while he was alive: the Bellandi family could use two of our routes, but drugs and human trafficking would never pass through Vescari docks. Lucian had promised me he would honor that rule. Now he was preparing to renovate Warehouse Seven without even speaking to me. “So the two of you decided everything a long time ago.” I pushed the phone toward Lucian. I watched Lucian, refusing to miss the slightest change in his expression. “After the wedding, I hand over North Harbor and Valentina manages it for you. The two of you ship in whatever you want, while I stay locked away at the estate and sign whatever papers you put in front of me.” I finished the plan they had not said aloud. “I won’t let danger come near you.” Lucian caught my wrist. “You don’t need to know what’s in every shipment, and you don’t need to deal with those people. You only need to be my wife.” Six years ago, my father died in a fire at the docks. Lucian was the one who carried me out of the burning warehouse. My face had been covered in soot, and I had clutched the necklace my father gave me so tightly it cut into my palm. Lucian wrapped me in his coat. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “You have me now.” I was twenty-one. I had lost my father and every source of security I had ever known. For six years, I held on to those words like a lifeline. Only later did I realize it had never been a lifeline. It was a collar locked around my neck. I pulled my hand free. “North Harbor is the inheritance my father left me. It isn’t a dowry I have to hand over when I marry you.” Lucian’s jaw tightened. “Your father is dead. He can’t protect you, and he can’t protect North Harbor.” The moment the words left his mouth, even he went still. My fingers slowly turned cold. Valentina spoke at once. “He didn’t mean it that way.” She always explained him for me. She arranged his meetings, tended his wounds, and remembered every capo’s preferences. She even had to tell me, on his behalf, that he loved me. I stared at him, the words cutting straight through my chest. “You’re right.” “My father is dead, so the two of you decided you were entitled to everything the Vescari family had left.” “But I’m his daughter. Even if I can’t hold North Harbor, neither of you has the right to use this marriage to rip it out of my hands.”

Valentina followed me out of the study. “Do you have to humiliate everyone the night before your wedding?” Downstairs, the staff were still arranging flowers in the ballroom. The entire Bellandi estate already knew something had gone wrong with the wedding. Her gaze passed over me and went first to the closed study door. She was supposed to be my best friend, but she was not worried about what I had just endured. She was worried that I had embarrassed Lucian on the other side of that door. She cared about Lucian’s pride and whether the Bellandi family could take control of North Harbor as planned tomorrow. She did not care that I had nearly lost everything my father left me with a single signature. “Step aside.” I headed for the stairs. Valentina grabbed my arm. “Lucian rejected the marriage the Commission arranged for him because he wanted to marry you. Do you have any idea how much pressure he took on for your sake?” “So I’m supposed to give him everything my father left me to repay him for being willing to marry me?” “Those docks will get you killed if they stay in your hands!” Her voice finally rose. “You can’t even fire a gun. You shake at the sight of blood. You don’t know how to command men or negotiate with the Commission. The Vescari family scattered years ago. Without Lucian, who would still address you as Miss Vescari?” I looked at her. “So that’s what you’ve always thought of me.” Valentina pressed her lips together. Within moments, she had recovered her composure. “I’m trying to help you.” “You can keep telling yourself that.” I returned to my bedroom. My wedding dress hung by the window. Fifteen seamstresses had spent three months embroidering its train. The sapphire necklace Lucian had sent me lay on the bed. Everything was beautiful. And expensive. But there was not a single thing in that room I had chosen for myself. I took off my formal dress and changed into a black one. I packed one suitcase. Over six years, Lucian had given me jewelry, cars, and property. I took none of it. All I packed were a few clothes, my father’s old pocket watch, and a leather-bound ledger. When I opened the door, Lucian was standing outside. His expression changed when he saw the suitcase. “Where are you going?” “Back to the old Vescari house.” “It’s been empty for five years.” “It’s still my home.” He blocked the doorway. “At least three families have people watching you tonight. You won’t make it out of Bellandi territory.” “Are you protecting me or holding me prisoner?” “Don’t force me to use stronger measures on you tonight.” I stared at him. He seemed to realize how harsh that sounded and reached for my face. “Alessia, I don’t want to fight with you. Go through with the wedding tomorrow. We can discuss the agreement afterward.” I turned my face away. “There won’t be a wedding.” “That isn’t your decision.” He did not raise his voice. But those words finally made everything clear. He had always been like this. He opened car doors for me gently. He draped coats around my shoulders gently. And then, just as gently, he decided where I was allowed to go. Lucian took the suitcase from me and handed it to a guard. “Take the luggage back.” He looked at me and added, “She is not to leave the estate until the wedding is over.” Two guards approached me. They had once served my father and protected me for years. But now they answered to Lucian. I did not resist. I simply walked back into the bedroom and closed the door. Ten minutes later, Valentina brought me a glass of warm milk. She set it on the table. “Get some sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be grateful Lucian didn’t indulge this little tantrum.” I glanced at the milk without touching it. “Are you looking forward to tomorrow’s wedding?” She paused. Valentina picked up the milk and held it out to me. “Of course. Without me overseeing security, the accounts, and the staff for you, you wouldn’t even know which door to use for your own wedding tomorrow.” I did not take it. Instead, I opened the digital access log the housekeeper had sent me that afternoon. “Then why have you stayed overnight at this estate forty-seven times in the past six months? I wasn’t even here for twelve of them.” She glanced at the log. “I often stay late handling family business for Lucian. There’s nothing unusual about spending the night when work runs late.” “Then why do you have fingerprint access to the safe room in the master suite? And why have you entered it six times?” “Lucian keeps his documents there. He gave me permission.” I turned to the final page and pointed to the order of authority. “Why did you draft my prenup? Why do the estate staff, the safe room, and the harbor accounts all answer to you before they answer to me?” Valentina’s expression finally hardened. “Because before you moved in, I was the one managing this estate, Lucian’s business, and even his escape routes whenever someone tried to kill him.” She stared at me. “For the past six years, I was the one who went with Lucian to meet the Commission. I dug bullets out of him when he was shot. I kept the capos who opposed your marriage under control.” “Alessia, once you marry him, all you have to do is put on your wedding dress and sit beside Lucian. I’ll still be the one deciding how this household is run.” She looked at me as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “I’ve taken on every responsibility that should have belonged to the future Donna. What could you possibly be unhappy about?” I tightened my grip on my phone until its cold edge dug painfully into my palm. Only then did I understand. It was not that she had no sense of boundaries. She had long considered herself the future Donna of the Bellandi family. To her, my marriage was merely a ceremony that would deliver North Harbor to Lucian. My role was to wear the wedding dress. Afterward, she would remain at Lucian’s side and live the life that should have been mine. “Since you’ve worked so hard, why don’t you take my place as the bride tomorrow?” The color drained from Valentina’s face.

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