Category: English

Three years ago, I used every trick in the book to get Sebastian Sterling to marry me. Three years later, his first love returned to the country, and I calmly demanded a divorce at his family’s annual gala. Looking at the guests around the table—some pitying me, others gloating—I elegantly wiped away a tear that didn’t even exist. Nobody knew that this entire marriage had been a chess game I carefully designed from the very beginning. When the lawyer handed over the divorce papers, I looked at the final signature on the stock transfer agreement. I gently slipped off the wedding ring that had never quite fit my finger. Sebastian, you played the part of the devoted billionaire husband beautifully. But my paycheck has cleared, and I’m officially checking out of this show. My laptop chimed. It was an anonymous email with a grainy picture attached, taken at the airport’s private VIP terminal. The stunning, elegant woman in the photo was Vivian Sinclair. Three years. She was finally back. My fingertips trembled slightly. My mind drifted back to three years ago, the night Sebastian’s grandfather was on his deathbed. That was also the night Vivian left the country to pursue her career, leaving Sebastian to drown his sorrows at a shady downtown club. He went missing, and the entire Sterling Enterprises fell into complete chaos. But I knew this was my golden ticket. Sebastian was too bright, a star shining in the sky. A girl like me, living in the dirt, never felt worthy of him. Only when he fell from his pedestal could I finally steal my way into his life. I used every connection I had to find him. That night was the first time I dialed the number I had memorized by heart. It was the private number printed on a business card he’d slipped into my hand at a charity gala months ago, after he had a few drinks. He had said, “Call me if you ever need help.” A casual remark to him, but a sacred promise to me. The phone rang and rang, but nobody picked up. Anxiety clawed at my chest. I called everyone I knew, pulled every favor, and finally tracked him to a VIP lounge in a secluded club. The heavy scent of whiskey hit me the moment I pushed the door open. The lounge was dimly lit, glasses shattered all over the floor. Sebastian was slumped on the leather sofa, his tie loosened, his face pale. He was still clutching a half-empty bottle. At that moment, my heart squeezed. I couldn’t tell if it was pity, or a dark, secret sense of triumph. I rushed over and gently tapped his cheek. His skin was burning hot. He opened his eyes groggily, his gaze unfocused. Suddenly, I wrapped my arms around him. Tears poured out of my eyes, soaking his expensive bespoke suit. Two percent of those tears were for him. The other ninety-eight percent were for myself. After that night, I became his savior. I made him shave, accompanied him to the office to handle crises, and cooked him homemade soup to soothe his alcohol-wrecked stomach. I forced myself into his life, almost aggressively. I had just graduated back then, working a miserable internship that barely paid three thousand dollars a month. To save money, I walked to work every single day. Every penny I saved went into buying him high-end organic groceries and supplements. The free snacks and water in our office pantry became my main meals. When I was starving, I chewed on stale bread. Whenever my blood sugar crashed, a single piece of chocolate from a coworker felt like a gift from heaven. But I did it all with a smile. The darkness in Sebastian’s eyes seemed to slowly melt away under my stubborn, clumsy care. He recovered. He got back to the gym, back to running his empire, and back to being the untouchable heir to the Sterling fortune. Everyone around us assumed we were going to get married. I was naive enough to believe it, too. But in reality, we were just “best friends.” What a joke of a title. He never once said he loved me. And I spent almost everything I had just to keep this fragile bond alive. But he was Sebastian Sterling. He was the guy who had given me the only warmth in my life when I was sixteen and living through my absolute worst nightmare. The year my mother got critically ill, I worked three jobs at once, constantly running between the hospital and my shifts. My relatives only sneered at me with cold, harsh words: “What’s the point of a girl getting a college degree anyway? You should just find a man to marry and get it over with.” The world’s judgment is always the sharpest blade. I almost believed them, but I refused to give up. So I worked myself to the bone, cared for my mother, and secretly studied for my exams late at night. The taste of eating stale bread while crying was as bitter as life itself. Coming back to the hospital after a late shift, I would quietly wipe the sweat from my mother’s forehead. I knew my father had already started a new family with his new wife. My stepmother openly called me a “freeloader” behind my back, telling everyone I would never amount to anything. That was when I realized you can only rely on yourself. I even had a dark, twisted thought that if my mother passed away, it might actually be a release for both of us. Forgive my selfishness. I was just so desperate to claw my way out of that muddy swamp. So when Sebastian fell, I didn’t hesitate to grab him like a lifeline. When he was at his lowest, I spent all my savings to help him pull through. I watched that man—the one I used to look up to like a god—let down his guard in front of me, his eyes filled with raw vulnerability. Why did I do it? Because if he stayed ruined, my only chance of changing my destiny would be completely destroyed. Only Sebastian was different. Back in high school, he was the student council president. He was the one who stopped the kids from bullying me, and he was the one who secretly paid off my mother’s medical bills when she was dying. So, before he belonged to someone else, I was willing to pay any price to keep him. I worked myself to death just to stand by his side. Until one day, at a major business forum, he was the keynote speaker. The spotlight hit him, and he smiled at me from the stage. “Ms. Vance, we meet again.” He remembered me. It was perfect. I reached out and shook his hand, feeling like I had just grabbed the key to a whole new world. “Mr. Sterling, long time no see.”

It was a cliché beginning, but I was just thrilled to finally step into his world. I would wait until he finally saw me—or until I completely gave up hope. Three years was long enough to burn out all my patience. So, the moment I got the text that Vivian Sinclair was back, I decided to personally bring down the curtain on this long, one-woman show. I booked a table at a Michelin-star restaurant and invited Sebastian. I wore a black backless dress that made my skin look incredibly pale. It was a style I had never dared to wear before. My collarbones stood out sharply. I even sprayed the perfume he liked best. If he liked it, I wouldn’t mind dressing like this forever. The scar on my lower back—the one I got while saving his life years ago—was subtly exposed to the air. I was no longer hiding my wounds. Everything was set, except Sebastian was forty minutes late. When he finally rushed in, his face wore his usual, intoxicatingly handsome look of apology. I didn’t even look at him. I turned to the waiter and ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine on the menu—a bottle that cost what I used to make in a year. Sebastian froze, trying to stop me. “Chloe, this is a bit much…” I raised my hand to cut him off, my voice so calm it surprised even myself. “I can afford it.” Of course I could. After he took back control of Sterling Enterprises, he threw plenty of business resources my way, calling it “payback.” I took it all. I wasn’t proud. Having lived through extreme poverty and helplessness, I understood the power of money better than anyone. I never wanted to go back to the days of begging people for loans just to cover hospital bills. I swirled the wine in my glass like a proper socialite, but a drop of the dark red liquid spilled, staining the snow-white tablecloth like a drop of fresh blood. I laughed, the sound ringing out a bit too clearly in the quiet restaurant. Sebastian watched me, his eyes unreadable. I didn’t know how much I drank. My last memory of that night was the spinning chandelier and Sebastian’s strong arms carrying me out. When I woke up, I was in a luxury hotel suite. The air was filled with a rich, unfamiliar cologne. Sebastian’s face was inches away from mine, his skin flushed with an unnatural warmth. My fingers were tightly gripping his collar. Two of his buttons had popped open, revealing his muscular chest. Driven by some crazy impulse, I leaned up and pressed my lips to his. His body went rigid. His hand instinctively reached up to push me away. But I just laughed, leaning closer, our warm breaths tangling together. “Don’t you want me?” My voice was thick with alcohol, dripping with honeyed poison. “Or are you still waiting for Vivian?” That name was like a bucket of ice water. He froze instantly. His muscles tensed, and his entire body turned to stone. See? Men are so predictable. I let out a soft giggle, my fingertips tracing his burning skin. “Don’t be so serious, Sebastian. Anyone would think I’m forcing you. Aren’t you happy?” He remained silent, but his hand suddenly moved. His warm fingers gently brushed over my lips. His other hand slowly slid down to my lower back, tracing the raised scar with painful accuracy. “Does it still hurt?” His voice was incredibly raspy. My mask almost shattered right then and there. I closed my eyes tight, my breath hitching in my throat. His fingertips moved with a tenderness that felt almost like pity, tracing that ugly mark. The next second, a soft kiss fell on the corner of my eye. “Don’t cry,” he whispered. Just those two words. I knew right then—I had won, but I had also lost. In this war I had so carefully planned, my heart had surrendered to him a long time ago. I left before the sun came up. The thick carpet of the hotel hallway swallowed all sound, like a silent goodbye. Standing in the chilly morning breeze, I called my assistant, Amy. My voice was light, carrying just the right amount of gratitude. “Hey Amy, thanks for helping me pull off that stunt with the Vivian news. Yeah, I know you were just looking out for me. Sebastian just needed a little… push.” “I do feel a bit bad for Vivian, haha. Anyway, dinner’s on me next time. How’s that investment portfolio I recommended working out for you?” I hung up, touched the fading scar on my lower back, and let a cold smirk slip onto my face. Thank you, my beautiful old scar. The performance was a massive success.

When I was twenty, I thought love was as pure as a fairy tale. But I learned very early on that what keeps two people together isn’t just love. It’s leverage, dependence, guilt, habit, and calculation. And I just needed to hold onto Sebastian Sterling. He was my best bet, my only ticket to the upper class. How could I ever let him go? I knew he was torn, struggling to weigh his options. But I wasn’t in a rush. I had my own plans to execute. Through an executive headhunter, I landed a high-level position at Sterling Enterprises. The day he saw me standing in his office as the new director, he literally jumped out of his leather chair in shock. He tried to corner me for a chat several times, but I smoothly dodged him every single time. Until one night, he waited for me outside my apartment. The night was pitch black. His eyes were filled with desire, conflict, and a chaotic mess of emotions I couldn’t quite decipher. When he leaned down to kiss me, the name that slipped from his lips was like a knife driving straight through my chest. “Vivian…” At that moment, my heart sank to the bottom of the ocean. But the smile on my face only grew wider and brighter. “Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice urgent, as if trying to prove something to himself. “Vivian is never coming back,” he added, more to convince himself than me. “So,” I interrupted, my voice soft like a sigh but sharp as a razor, “you want me to be her substitute?” “I never said…” He tried to explain, his eyes darting away. “Sure, I’ll marry you,” I said, looking him dead in the eye, making it sound like the most sacred vow. “Sebastian, remember this. I would give up anything for you.” I reached up and covered his eyes with my hand. I didn’t dare look into them. I was afraid of seeing his hesitation, and even more afraid he would see the cold, loveless determination in mine. That night, I cried until I lost my voice, letting out every ounce of misery I had bottled up over the years. He held me tight, rubbing my back in silence, incredibly gentle. Eventually, I cried myself to sleep. In my hazy consciousness, I think I mumbled, “Sebastian, I don’t actually love you…” The last thing I remembered was him letting out a very low, quiet chuckle, whispering something back that faded into the night. The next morning, the space beside me was cold. As expected. I numbly got up to change. Just as I was down to my lingerie, the bedroom door swung open. Sebastian stood there, frozen, holding a breakfast tray. He was wearing my ridiculously cute pink rabbit apron. The air instantly turned to ice, and both of our ears flushed bright red. “Morning. Breakfast is ready,” he said, looking like a little boy who got caught stealing cookies. “You’re too thin. Eat up. I can drive you to the office after?” I nodded. As he turned to leave, he paused, his gaze dropping back to the scar on my lower back. “Does it still hurt?” I shook my head, forcing a smile. “I’m used to it.” The pain had moved to my heart a long time ago. He just didn’t get it. Sebastian’s cooking was surprisingly amazing. For a while after that, we actually lived like a deeply in love couple. He stayed late at the office with me, wrapped his heavy coat around me to kiss me in the pouring rain, took me to private galleries on weekends, and bought me a luxury penthouse with a deed hidden in a sea of red roses for my birthday. We named our new home “Sunrise” and started planning a trip around the world. That luxury condo actually started to feel like a real home. He was more perfect, more attentive, and more of a dream husband than I had ever imagined. I almost let myself believe that happiness was finally within my reach. But a string in my heart remained pulled tight, never relaxing for a second. I knew that stolen joy always had to be returned. Borrowed light eventually goes out. I never complained about my bad luck, because I had already learned how to survive in the dark. The divorce papers went through incredibly smoothly. Sebastian didn’t even glance at the heavy terms I had carefully drafted—terms that would take a massive bite out of his assets. He just signed his name with a sharp, decisive stroke, looking as cold and calculated as he did making multi-billion-dollar deals in the boardroom. “Chloe,” he said, putting down his pen and looking up at me. His eyes were like a dark, bottomless ocean, showing absolutely no emotion. “Thanks for these three years. You worked hard.”

I pulled on my perfect corporate smile, looking like I was facing a tough business rival. “You’re welcome, Mr. Sterling. It was just business. We both got what we wanted.” He went quiet for a second, then let out a very soft chuckle. There was a tone in that laugh I couldn’t quite read, and it made my fingers twitch. “Right. We both got what we wanted,” he repeated. He stood up, his tall figure casting a long shadow that completely wrapped around me. “Well, I wish you a very successful future, Ms. Vance. I hope you get everything you ever wanted.” He called me “Ms. Vance,” not “Chloe.” I kept my cool, watching him walk away without a single backward glance. The heavy office door clicked shut, cutting off his tall figure. The faint scent of his cedarwood cologne still hung in the air, cold and distant. I slowly sat back down in my leather chair, spinning around to look out at the sprawling, glittering city skyline below. The single piece of paper in my hand felt light, but it carried the weight of a mountain. It held all my calculations, my lies, and my patience from the past three years. In exchange, it gave me the massive wealth I needed to secure my future. I won, didn’t I? I slowly swirled the amber liquid in my crystal glass and downed it in one go. The burning sensation scorched my throat, but it felt incredibly satisfying. Goodbye, Sebastian. Actually, let’s make it “never see you again.” Over the next few days, I moved fast. I took over my newly acquired shares and stepped into a highly promising tech startup I had been eyeing for months, becoming its majority shareholder and actual boss. I moved into a luxury penthouse overlooking the river. My walk-in closet was stuffed with the latest designer clothes. I never had to look at a price tag again. I got everything I ever dreamed of. Until a week later, when my head secretary knocked on my door with a weird look on her face. “Ms. Vance, we just received a… package. It’s addressed directly to you.” It was an old, elegant rosewood box. There was no card, no return address, just a faint, incredibly familiar scent of cedarwood. My chest tightened, but I kept my face blank. “Who sent it?” “The courier didn’t say. They just said it was… to return something to its rightful owner,” the secretary replied hesitantly. “Should I run it through security?” I waved her off and waited for her to leave before opening the box, my fingers slightly cold. Resting on the black velvet lining inside was a very familiar, simple platinum ring. It was the wedding ring I had “accidentally” dropped behind the headboard of our hotel suite—the ring I had worn for three years, with “Chloe & Sebastian” engraved on the inside. Why the hell was it here?! I thought he would have thrown it in the trash long ago! Under the ring, there was a folded piece of white paper. I took a deep breath and opened it. There was only a single line of printed text, but it felt like an icy dagger piercing straight through my armor. *“Your paycheck is cleared, but is the show really over, my Best Actress?”* There was no signature at the bottom. My blood ran cold. My fingers clenched around the ring, the hard metal digging painfully into my palm. What did he know? Since when did he know?! What the hell did this mean?! The air in the room felt thick and suffocating. The only sound was my own ragged breathing. He knew. He wasn’t the clueless, guilt-tripped husband I thought he was. These past three years, he hadn’t been nearly as blind as I thought.

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Three months after my wife gave birth, I suddenly gained the ability to see the true owner of every object. The sofa was mine. The TV was mine. Even the potted plants on the balcony were mine. Excited, I looked at the baby crib my wife had just bought. There was a bold, floating label on it: “Owner: Xavier Vance.” Who the hell was Xavier Vance? I had never heard that name in my life. I tried to comfort myself. Maybe it was a secondhand purchase, and the seller on eBay forgot to peel off the label. But in the days that followed, more and more things belonging to Xavier Vance started showing up in my house. The luxury perfume my wife brought home, the extra matching toothbrush in the bathroom. Even the haute couture dress she wore to work every day had a label that read: “Owner: Xavier Vance.” That night, she came back from a business trip and leaned her exhausted head on my shoulder. “Leo, there’s really no place like home.” I stared at her. A massive, glowing label floated over her entire body: “Owner: Xavier Vance.” I gently patted her back. “Let’s not keep Xavier Vance’s things in this house anymore, okay?”

Sienna’s hand, which was wrapping around mine, froze mid-air. She still carried the chill of the outside air. Her shirt collar was slightly creased, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Before, if she came home like this, my heart would ache for her. I would make her hot soup. I would tell the nanny to take the baby to the nursery. I would whisper, “Go get some sleep, Sienna. I’ll handle Jonah.” But now, I could only stare at the words hovering over her chest. “Owner: Xavier Vance.” It wasn’t just her dress. It wasn’t just her watch. It was her entire person. Sienna slowly let go of me, her jaw tensing. “Who did you just say?” I looked her in the eye. “Xavier Vance.” The living room fell dead silent. From the nursery, our son Jonah let out a faint cry, and the nanny quietly hushed him. Sienna quickly forced a smile. But it was as dry as paper. “Are you just tired lately, Leo? I haven’t been sleeping well post-partum, and you’ve been stressing out with me. It’s easy to start overthinking when you’re exhausted.” She reached out to feel my forehead. I took a step back. Her hand froze in mid-air. I pointed toward the nursery. “Where did that crib come from?” “I bought it.” “Where’s the receipt?” Her brow furrowed. “It’s just a crib, Leo. Why are you checking receipts?” “I asked you, where is the receipt?” Her expression darkened. “Leo, the baby just fell asleep. Do you really have to start a fight in the middle of the night?” Her words almost made me laugh out of pure anger. It had been three months since Sienna gave birth. I was the one waking up multiple times every night. When her breasts were engorged and she had a high fever, I was the one who carried her to the hospital. She was always on business trips. She was always in meetings. She was always busy. And now, simply asking where a crib came from made me the one “picking a fight.” Sienna’s father, Mike, walked out of the guest room with a robe thrown over his shoulders. He looked highly annoyed. “What’s going on now? The baby is crying, and you two are still arguing?” Sienna rubbed her temples. “It’s nothing, Mike.” But Mike turned his glare on me. “Leo, I’m not trying to take sides here, but Sienna works incredibly hard to put food on the table. She just had a baby. You’re the one staying home, so you need to be more supportive. Stop being so paranoid.” I looked up at him. The diamond ring on his finger caught the light. Floating right above it were the words: “Owner: Xavier Vance.” Suddenly, I had nothing to say. So it wasn’t just Sienna. Even her father had accepted gifts from Xavier Vance. Mike grew uncomfortable under my gaze and quickly hid his hand behind his back. In that split second, I knew. He knew exactly who Xavier Vance was. I asked quietly, “Mike, that ring looks expensive. Who bought it for you?” Mike’s face flushed. “I bought it myself.” Sienna stepped in front of him. “Leo, don’t take your anger out on Mike.” I stared at her. “I’m just asking who Xavier Vance is.” This time, she didn’t answer immediately. After a long pause, she whispered, “He’s an investor in our company.” “He’s been helping me a lot lately, and he sent some gifts. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to overthink things.” How thoughtful. Even her lies were packaged as “protecting my feelings.” I walked to the nursery door. My son, Jonah, was lying in that light-wood crib. His tiny hands were balled into fists, and his face was red from crying. Above the headboard, those words floated silently: “Owner: Xavier Vance.” I turned back to Sienna. “Throw that crib out tomorrow.” Her brow twitched. “The baby is sleeping fine. Why do you have to make a scene?” “My son is not sleeping in another man’s things.” Mike immediately raised his voice. “Leo, are you insane? That’s an expensive, imported crib! You’re just going to throw it away?” I stared straight at Sienna, pronouncing every word clearly. “I’m not the one who’s insane.” “Xavier Vance’s things have crossed the line.” Just as she was about to speak, her phone rang. The screen lit up. Caller ID: Xavier Vance.

I stared at the name and let out a cold laugh. Sienna reached out to decline the call. But I snatched the phone first. “Answer it.” “Let me hear what kind of urgent, professional business an investor has with you in the middle of the night.” Sienna yanked the phone out of my hand. She didn’t use force, but she was fast. Fast enough to show how terrified she was that I might actually answer it. The call timed out. Mike immediately tried to smooth things over. “It’s business. You shouldn’t poke your nose into things you don’t understand.” I looked at him. “Mike, you seem to know so much. Did Xavier Vance teach you that?” Mike’s face stiffened. Sienna lowered her voice, warning, “Leo, that’s enough.” “Enough?” I looked around the house, seeing all the things that belonged to Xavier Vance. The crib, the perfume, Mike’s ring. Even the brand-new humidifier on the coffee table had Xavier Vance’s name floating over it. This house suddenly felt completely foreign to me. The next morning, Sienna personally dismantled the crib. She promised she would order a new one. Mike stood nearby, muttering about how dramatic and troublesome I was. I ignored him. Just as the wooden boards were being moved to the door, a delivery courier arrived. “Sienna? I have a local delivery from Mr. Vance.” The courier handed over a sleek, white gift box. Floating above it were the words: “Owner: Xavier Vance.” Sienna’s expression shifted. “Give it to me.” But I tore the packaging open before she could reach it. Inside was a set of baby silver bracelets. If you didn’t know where they came from, they would look like a very decent, elegant gift. But engraved on the inside were two words: Jonah. My son’s name. I had never made his name public. I looked up at Sienna. “How does he know our baby’s name is Jonah?” Mike quickly chimed in. “Sienna probably just mentioned it casually during business chats.” I stared at him. “Do you usually discuss your grandson’s name with corporate investors, Mike?” Mike shut his mouth. Sienna reached for the box. “I’ll handle this.” I didn’t let go. “Handle it how? By thanking him on my behalf? Telling him not to spend so much next time?” Her forehead creased with deep frustration. “Do you have to be this sarcastic and bitter?” Suddenly, I threw the silver bracelets onto the hardwood floor. A sharp, metallic clang echoed through the room. Mike roared, “Leo! You’re out of your mind!” The silver bracelets rolled to Sienna’s feet. She looked down at them but didn’t pick them up. I said coldly, “My son doesn’t wear things bought by outsiders.” Sienna closed her eyes. “Xavier Vance is not an outsider.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she froze. The living room became dead silent. I looked at her, my heart sinking inch by inch into a dark abyss. “Not an outsider?” She wanted to backpedal, but I didn’t want to hear it anymore. I turned, walked into the nursery, and scooped Jonah up into my arms. Sienna blocked the doorway. “Where are you going?” “Back to my parents’ house.” She stepped closer to block me. “The baby stays here.” I looked up, my eyes cold. “Say that again.” Her voice was tight and low. “He’s too small. Traveling is bad for him.” I looked down at Jonah. He was a tiny, soft bundle. There was no label hovering over him. He didn’t belong to anyone. He was his own person. But the new blanket wrapped around him had a glaring, painful line of text floating above it: “Owner: Xavier Vance.” A wave of icy chills washed over me. Xavier Vance’s reach had already wrapped itself around my son. That afternoon, while Mike was taking a nap, the nanny quietly slipped a business card into my hand. “Leo, I shouldn’t be saying this, but you need to be careful.” The card read: Aura Haven Premium Maternity & Infant Care Center. Managing Director: Xavier Vance. My fingers clenched around the card so hard they turned white. The nanny whispered, “I was sent here by that center. Sienna told me to only follow Mr. Vance’s instructions.” I looked at her. “Do you know who I am?” Her face flushed. “You… you are Sienna’s husband.” “Then why don’t you listen to me?” She looked down, unable to meet my eyes. “You weren’t the one who signed the contract.” I let out a bitter laugh. So in this house, I couldn’t even get the nanny to listen to me.

I called my father. The moment the call connected, Mike barged into the room and snatched the phone right out of my hand. “Are you trying to run to your daddy and complain again?” I stood up. “Give me my phone back.” Mike hid the phone behind his back. “Even if the kid has your last name, he is still a part of our family. You can’t just run off to your parents’ place every time you throw a tantrum.” I reached out to grab it. He stepped back aggressively. I was a grown man, but he was an elder, so I couldn’t use brute force. In the scuffle, my foot caught on something. I tripped and slammed hard into the bedframe. The sharp pain made my vision go black for a second. Jonah woke up from the impact, and his loud, startled cries instantly filled the room. Sienna walked through the front door just in time to see me clutching the bedframe in pain, while Mike held my phone. Her expression changed. “Mike! What are you doing?” Mike immediately played the victim. “What did I do? He wanted to take the baby away, and I was just trying to stop him! Is that a crime now?” Sienna walked over to support me. “Where did you get hurt?” I shoved her hand away. “Give me my phone.” She took it from Mike but didn’t hand it over to me right away. “Leo, we need to talk.” I stared at her. “Talk about Xavier Vance?” Her face darkened. “Do you have to drag him into literally everything?” “Am I the one dragging him in?” I pointed toward the nursery, my voice shaking with rage. “The crib is his. The blanket is his. The nanny is his. The ring on your father’s finger is his. Even you belong to him!” “Sienna, tell me. What else in this house doesn’t belong to him?” A flash of panic finally crossed her eyes. It wasn’t out of guilt. It was because I had hit the nail right on the head. That night, she was on the phone in her study. The door wasn’t fully closed. Holding Jonah, I stood in the hallway and heard her lowered, hushed voice. “Keep the evaluation report on hold. Don’t let him find out.” I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end was saying. Sienna interrupted irritably, “Xavier, don’t push me.” “I told you, I will handle the baby’s situation.” My entire body went rigid. Jonah shifted in my arms, and I instinctively covered his ears. In the study, she spoke again. “The guardianship agreement is just a backup plan. I don’t actually plan on executing it.” Backup plan. Those words felt like a needle stabbing straight into my throat. I took a step back, and my heel bumped against a storage bin. The study door swung open instantly. Sienna stood in the doorway, her face turning pale in a second. I stared at her. “What evaluation report?” “And who is the baby you’re planning to ‘handle’?” She took a step toward me. “Leo, it’s not what you think.” I backed away. “Then what is it?” Her jaw clenched. “The company is facing a massive crisis. Xavier invested a lot of money to save it. He is a control freak; he likes to arrange everything in advance.” “And?” “I never wanted to hurt you.” I burst out laughing. “You guys are doing a psychological evaluation on me. A stay-at-home dad taking care of our baby. You are secretly evaluating me. You placed a spy nanny to watch my every move, and you are preparing a guardianship transfer agreement.” “Sienna, and you have the audacity to call that ‘not wanting to hurt me’?” Her face was white as a sheet. At 3:00 AM, while she was deep asleep, I quietly took the keys from her coat pocket. I unlocked the safe. Inside, there was only a single manila envelope. Floating over the envelope were the words: “Owner: Xavier Vance.” I tore it open. The first document was an equity pledge agreement. The second was a personal loan contract. The title of the third document made my blood boil. Pre-Divorce Child Custody and Settlement Plan. The clauses were written with absolute precision. After the divorce, our son Jonah would be placed in the sole custody of his mother, Sienna. Leo is suffering from emotional instability and is deemed unfit to care for an infant independently. And at the very bottom, there was a handwritten note. As the sole sponsor of Jonah’s growth trust fund, Mr. Xavier Vance reserves the right to participate in the child’s education, healthcare, and lifestyle arrangements. My fingers trembled so violently I could barely hold the paper. He didn’t just want Sienna. He wanted my son.

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I had just stepped out of the ER when a woman blocked my path. “You’re a doctor, right? My son scraped his knee. Get over here and treat him, now.” Before I could even explain, she grabbed the collar of my lab coat and snarled. “Isn’t it a doctor’s job to save lives? You have time to slack off, but no time to treat my son’s wound?” She violently yanked my collar, dragging me toward the wards. “Ma’am, please,” I gasped, trying to pull away. “I’m not a…” But she wasn’t listening. She swung her arm and slapped me right across the face. “Are you blind? Can’t you see my son is bleeding? You’d rather treat those poor losers than help my boy?” “If anything happens to my son, I will ruin you.” “On your knees and apologize to him right now. Or I’ll file a complaint and have your license revoked.” I winced, holding my throbbing cheek. In my five years in this profession, this was the very first time a living person had threatened to report me. “It’s not that I don’t want to treat him,” I muttered. “But I’m a forensic pathologist.”

I had just finished reviewing a deceased patient’s medical history. All I wanted was to get back to the breakroom and collapse onto the bed. But as I turned the corner of the corridor, a figure lunged at me, grabbing my arm in a death grip. I froze, startled by the sudden shriek. I looked up to see a woman in full glam, dripping in designer labels, standing right in front of me with her arms crossed. “You’re a doctor, right? My son scraped his knee, and he’s bleeding everywhere. Get over there and fix him up, now.” Without waiting for a response, she tried to drag me toward the treatment room. I had pulled an all-nighter doing an autopsy. I was completely exhausted. I just wanted to sleep. Besides, as a forensic pathologist, I didn’t treat living patients. I waved my hands, trying to calm her down. “Ma’am, I…” But she cut me off, her voice rising. “You’re wearing a white coat, aren’t you? That makes you a doctor.” “I saw you wandering around the lobby. You’re clearly slacking off!” “What, you have time to play on your phone, but no time to bandage my son?” She sneered, tugging hard at my lab coat. “Isn’t your whole job about saving people? My son is injured, and you’re just going to stand there and do nothing?” My mind went completely blank at her sheer audacity. “Ma’am, I understand you’re worried about your son, but his injury needs to be treated by a clinical doctor. I can’t do that for you.” I thought I was being polite enough, but her eyes flared with rage, and she shoved me hard. Caught off guard, I stumbled back a few steps, my back slamming heavily against the wall. “I don’t care! Treat my son right now!” I stabilized myself, a dull pain radiating from my chest. No matter how good my temper was, I was reaching my boiling point. “I cannot do that.” I flatly refused, pulling out my phone to contact Dr. Mitchell. My refusal lit a fire under Victoria Sterling. “What did you just say?!” She lunged forward, grabbing my collar and shaking me violently. “You’re wearing that coat! It is your duty to treat patients! How dare you pick and choose?!” With a loud rip, the top button of my coat popped off. In the struggle, my phone slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. Before I could even react, Victoria raised her hand and delivered a stinging slap to my face. Smack! My cheek burned, and my ears rang. I stumbled, momentarily losing my balance. Victoria glared at me, holding my torn collar as she dragged me forward. “You little bitch, how dare you glare at me?!” “I asked you to wrap a simple wound, and you give me this attitude?!” Her screaming immediately caught the attention of the patient’s families in the hallway. “If my son’s treatment is delayed, can you even afford to compensate us?” “Let me tell you, by refusing to help my son, you have no medical ethics.” “A heartless doctor like you should be kicked out of this hospital.” Staring at her hysterical face, I touched my swollen cheek. I swallowed the humiliation and the stinging pain, slowly lifting my head. In my five years in this field, this was the first time a living person had filed a complaint against me. The fire I had been suppressing finally exploded. “Every single patient of mine is already dead! How do you want me to treat your son?!” Hearing this, Victoria went absolutely ballistic. “How dare you curse my son!” She grabbed my arm, dragging me forcefully toward the VIP ward. “On your knees and apologize to my boy! Otherwise, I’ll make sure you get fired, and you’ll never work in this city again!”

“Stop this right now!” A booming voice echoed from behind us, drawing everyone’s eyes. A middle-aged man in a white coat and gold-rimmed glasses came rushing down the hall. The moment Dr. Mitchell, the Chief of the Emergency Department, arrived, Victoria acted as if she had found her savior. She let go of me and threw herself toward him. “Dr. Mitchell! Thank God you’re here! Your doctor is trying to kill us!” “My son is bleeding all over his leg, and she refused to help him! She even cursed him to die!” Dr. Mitchell gently patted Victoria’s back to soothe her. But the moment his gaze shifted to me, all warmth vanished from his eyes. He pulled me to the side, his voice low but dripping with anger. He immediately put all the blame on me. “What is wrong with you? Do you have any idea who Mrs. Sterling is?” “Apologize to her right now! I don’t care what happened, you do not upset a patient’s family!” I stared at him, finding the entire situation laughable. My slapped cheek was still burning. “I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?” “For the hospital’s reputation!” Dr. Mitchell’s voice flared up before he quickly muffled it. “Mrs. Sterling is a major donor to this hospital! Do you think crossing her will do you any good?” “I was just stating a fact. I’m a forensic.” To him, my explanation was nothing but backtalk. He cut me off sharply. “Cut the crap! Just go and apologize!” Seeing that I didn’t budge, Dr. Mitchell’s face turned incredibly dark. He actually reached out, trying to physically force my head down to make me bow to Victoria. “Apologize to Mrs. Sterling, and we can make this go away!” I violently wrenched myself free from his grip and took a step back. The rage in my chest finally snapped my last thread of sanity. I turned to the crowd gathering in the corridor and shouted at the top of my lungs. “I am not a clinical doctor! I have no legal right to perform medical treatment!” My shout instantly drew the attention of every patient and visitor in the hallway. Dr. Mitchell, completely humiliated by my public defiance, pointed a finger at my face and roared. “I don’t care what kind of doctor you are! If a patient needs help, you do it!” “What department are you from? What’s your ID number? What is your name?!” I let out a cold laugh. “Who made the rule that anyone wearing a white coat works for your hospital?” Seeing the chaos, Victoria immediately started adding fuel to the fire. She covered her face, crying fake tears. “Dr. Mitchell, look at her! I saw her playing on her phone during work hours. But when I asked her to help my boy, she made up a hundred excuses!” “Why is your hospital still keeping a doctor with zero ethics?!” The whispers around us grew louder. “Yeah, I saw her walking around with her phone earlier. She was definitely slacking.” “Young doctors these days have no sense of responsibility.” “The kid was bleeding. How hard is it to put on a bandage?” The wave of accusations washed over me. Dr. Mitchell’s face was practically purple. He felt his authority being challenged like never before. “Fine. Great!” He laughed out of sheer anger and delivered his final threat. “I am reporting this to the board right now! You are fired!” “And I’m not done with you! I will make sure you can never find a job in the entire city of New York!” Victoria stood beside him, a triumphant, smug smirk plastered on her face. Watching their pathetic, self-righteous display, my heart grew cold. The fury and resentment boiled within me, but I forced myself to calm down. Suddenly, I smiled. An apology? That would be way too easy on them. If I didn’t blow this up today and make them lose face in front of everyone, I would be doing a disservice to the slap I just took. Under their bewildered stares, I straightened my torn collar and walked toward them step by step. “Fine,” I said. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was crystal clear. “I’ll treat him.”

Dr. Mitchell and Victoria froze. The murmurs in the hallway died down instantly. The smug grin on Victoria’s face stiffened. She probably hadn’t expected me to “submit” so quickly. “Smart move,” she scoffed, lifting her chin arrogantly as she led the way. Dr. Mitchell gave me a warning glare, as if saying, See? You should have done this from the start. I was brought into the VIP suite. The crowd of onlookers followed, crowding around the door to watch the drama unfold. The moment I walked in, I saw the “critically injured” child. He was lounging on the bed with his legs crossed, happily playing on his iPad. On his knee was a tiny, cartoon Band-Aid. There wasn’t a single trace of pain on his face. Seeing me look at her son, Victoria immediately went back into victim mode. She pointed at the Band-Aid and screamed at me. “Look! Look at how badly hurt my son is!” “He was bleeding so much! You heartless bitch, you almost made us miss the golden window for treatment!” Her voice was so tragic, you’d think her son had lost a leg rather than scraped his skin. Hearing his mother scream, the boy didn’t look scared at all. Instead, he jumped off the bed. He ran over to me and kicked my shin as hard as he could. A sharp pain shot up my leg. I frowned. “Bad lady! How dare you make my mommy mad!” he whined. “I’m gonna have my daddy kick you out of here!” Victoria didn’t stop him. Instead, she patted his head lovingly, her eyes full of pride. “Good boy. Look at you protecting Mommy.” Watching this absurd scene, the light in my eyes grew colder. I crouched down, grabbed the boy’s ankle, and said coldly, “Don’t move. Let me examine you.” Before my hand even brushed his skin, the kid jumped as if he had been electrocuted. He pulled his foot back and burst into a hysterical, earsplitting wail. “She hurt me! Mommy! She hurt me on purpose!” Victoria’s anger flared instantly. She rushed over like a madwoman and kicked me squarely in the chest, knocking me to the floor. “You bitch! How dare you take revenge on my son!” The back of my head hit the cold tile floor hard. For a second, my vision went black. The pain made it hard to breathe. Supporting myself against the floor, I slowly stood up and brushed the dust off my lab coat. I looked at the boy, who was still faking his tears, and let out a freezing laugh. “Mrs. Sterling, if I had come any later, I’m afraid your son’s wound would have already healed itself.” The moment those words left my mouth, Victoria exploded. “What do you mean by that?! You just don’t want to treat my son!” Dr. Mitchell’s face was as black as coal. He pointed at me, trembling with rage. Victoria pointed at my nose and cried to the crowd outside. “Everyone, look! This is the kind of doctor we have today! She refuses to help a child and makes excuses!” “She’s trying to hurt my son!” The crowd was completely swayed by her. They stared at me with pure condemnation. “Oh my god, how can a doctor put her hands on a child?” “Exactly. She made a mistake first, and now she’s taking it out on a kid!” Victoria smirked, walking up to me and looking down at me like a queen. “Let me tell you, you are treating him today, whether you like it or not!” “Bandage my son’s wound right now! Keep doing it until he is satisfied!” I looked at her triumphant look, and then at the disgusted looks of the crowd. Suddenly, I found the whole thing hilarious. Slowly, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my official ID case. Under everyone’s stunned gaze, I flipped it open. The black leather cover, the gold state seal, and the bold letters: Harper Vance, Forensic Pathologist, State Medical Examiner’s Office. “It’s not that I don’t want to treat your son,” I said. My voice was quiet, but it carried clearly in the silent VIP room. “But I am a forensic pathologist.” I paused, my gaze slowly sweeping over Victoria and her fake-crying son. “The only patients I handle are dead bodies.” “Are you sure you want me to treat your son?”

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By a freak accident, I discovered I shared a sensory connection with my husband, Julian. I could feel everything. Not just the sharp pain of his wounds, but also the intense, toe-curling pleasure his body experienced when he did the things he enjoyed. Until one night, when he was livestreaming a high-altitude skydive in France. I watched him on screen, closely tangled up with his female diving partner. Suddenly, a wave of indescribable pleasure washed over my own body… Julian was an extreme sports junkie, especially obsessed with skydiving. I, on the other hand, was an interior designer. We were opposites, I was quiet, he was loud. It was a miracle we ever ended up together. Extreme sports meant he had to travel the world for competitions. Because of this, Julian and I spent more time apart than together. During a recent paragliding accident, Julian broke his leg. It was a rare stroke of luck that kept him quiet and locked in a hospital bed for a while. When I walked into his hospital room carrying a thermos of hot, homemade beef stew, he was glued to his iPad, completely absorbed. I leaned over his shoulder. The screen read: #The First Global “Starry Cup” Paragliding Challenge: Preliminaries Live# I sighed. “Julian, can we please stop with these dangerous sports?” Julian lived for skydiving and paragliding. He had dozens of steel pins in his body from past injuries. Yet, he had mastered the sport, even competing professionally in Europe. He jumped a little, startled by my voice, but quickly smiled and shook his head. “Eve, babe, I know you worry. But money can’t buy the thrill. The adrenaline rush I get from this is endless.” I stared at Julian’s handsome profile, slightly dazed. Extreme sports were a rich man’s game. To live without a 9-to-5 and still have millions to blow, Julian had to be a billionaire heir. And he was. Everyone envied me for landing a handsome, filthy-rich husband like Julian. Only I knew the loneliness of never having him around. Sometimes, I envied his teammates more than I loved being his wife. I fed him the beef stew spoon by spoon. He smiled warmly. “You’re the best, Eve. So sweet, so domestic. It makes me feel so safe leaving the house in your hands while I go out and conquer the world.” I stuffed a piece of beef into his mouth. “Shut up. Stop talking about ‘conquering the world’ from a hospital bed.” Julian rarely came home. Since we got married, I had been the one taking care of his massive estate and keeping his family life perfectly organized. He coughed on the soup, laughing mischievously. “You worry about me so much? I guess I need to put a baby in you soon. That way, you won’t miss me so much when I’m gone.” As we joked around, the door opened. A gorgeous woman walked in. She tapped on the doorframe and took off her designer sunglasses with a smirk. “Am I interrupting? I didn’t expect you two to be having a private moment.” The moment I saw Valerie Vance, my smile froze. I had seen her in countless photos on Julian’s Instagram. She was Julian’s paragliding partner of six years. She was a stunning, wealthy socialite who traveled the world with him, winning trophies together. Despite spending her life outdoors, her skin was flawlessly pale. She had a tiny waist, curves in all the right places, and legs that went on forever. She dressed boldly. Even in fifty-degree weather, she wore a low-cut halter top that left very little to the imagination. She walked straight to the bed, pulled back Julian’s blanket, and stared at his broken leg. “How did you manage this, loser? Crashing yourself into a cast?” I was stunned. Julian’s cast was fresh, and he was only wearing his boxers underneath the blanket. Valerie noticed my stiff expression and laughed loudly. “Oh, don’t worry, Eve. We’re professional partners and best friends. We’re practically brothers. You don’t mind, right?” Julian quickly pulled the blanket back over his lap. “She doesn’t mind, but I do! Give a guy some privacy!” As they laughed and teased each other, my eyes locked onto something else. Under the thin blanket, Julian’s boxers had a very visible tent. I wasn’t blind. The moment Valerie walked in, Julian got hard.

After Valerie left, the doctor came in to check on Julian’s leg. I stood in the corner. As the doctor adjusted the cast, Julian winced, his face twisting in pain. The very next second, a sharp, stabbing agony shot through my own left leg! The pain was so intense, so identical to his injury, that my knees buckled. I collapsed onto the floor. The doctor and Julian both gasped. “Eve! What’s wrong? I’m the one with the broken leg, why are you falling over?” I quickly pulled up my jeans to check my left leg. Weirdly, there wasn’t a scratch on it. And the moment the doctor finished touching Julian, my pain vanished. Did I… just share Julian’s physical sensation? I was deeply confused, but I shook my head and stood up. “I’m fine. Just haven’t been sleeping well lately. Seeing you in pain made my legs go weak.” Julian squeezed my hand guiltily. “I’m so sorry, babe. You’ve been working so hard, and then you have to run over here to take care of me. You’re exhausted.” Looking at Julian’s caring face, I brushed the thought away. I tucked him in, kissed him goodbye, and went back to work. The afternoon flew by, my mind consumed by emails and design mockups. On my drive home, my phone buzzed. It was Julian calling on FaceTime. His voice was deep, raspy, and incredibly sexy. “Eve… I miss you. Let’s make a baby the second I get out of here, okay?” We had been married for three years, but because of his travels, we didn’t have kids yet. Every time he came back, he was incredibly needy in bed. He had that specific tone in his voice. I knew exactly what he was doing. My face flushed. “You’re bad. You’re still in the hospital. Stop it.” “Who cares? It’s a private suite. The doors are locked.” Julian’s VIP room was soundproof, and the night nurses rarely bothered him unless called. “Come on, Eve. I can’t wait.” He begged me on screen. I sighed, propped my phone up, and did what he asked. Suddenly, I heard heavy breathing from his end. I was about to hang up out of embarrassment when it hit me. A wave of electricity shot through my spine. A strange, intense sensation flooded my entire body. Two minutes later, Julian let out a low groan and finished. He looked at me through the screen. My face was flushed, and I was panting. He smirked. “Wow, Eve. Talk about perfect timing. Looking at your face, were you doing the same thing as me?” My heart hammered against my ribs. That sensation… I had shared his climax. Over the next few weeks, I tested it. I realized that whenever Julian experienced an intense physical reaction, pleasure or pain, I felt it too. Julian often got bruised up during his trips and tried to hide it from me. I decided to keep this sensory link a secret, not wanting to freak him out. Shortly after he was discharged, he couldn’t help himself. He booked a flight to France for a paragliding championship. He told me that ordinary, materialistic pleasures couldn’t satisfy him anymore. He needed to merge with nature, to feel the ultimate ecstasy of body and soul at thousands of feet in the air. I sighed and pinched his arm hard at the airport. “Fine. Just don’t let them wheel you off the plane next time. Stay safe!” Julian laughed, pulling me into a passionate kiss. “Don’t worry, Eve! I’ll come back to you victorious.” My face warmed. Before he left, we had spent days tangled in bed without protection. He really wanted a baby. He promised me that once we had a child, he would retire from extreme sports and focus on our family. Calculating the time his flight would land in Nice, I sent him a FaceTime request. “Julian, did you guys arrive?” It was nighttime for me, but bright and sunny on his side. Valerie was the one who answered his phone. She smiled, wrapping an arm around Julian’s shoulder. “Relax, Eve. I’m taking great care of your hubby. Not a single scratch on him.” Seeing her hold my husband on the other side of the world, replacing my spot, made my stomach twist. They were competing in a tandem paragliding event. The race was being livestreamed. At 10:30 PM, I nervously opened the streaming app on my tablet. When it was finally Julian’s turn to fly, I felt my own heart begin to race. My chest pounded in sync with his excitement. The glider took off smoothly over the lush, green valleys of France. My heart was in my throat as the camera zoomed in on them. With the high-definition lens, I could see both of their faces clearly. They looked ecstatic, almost wild with thrill. I wondered, is this what extreme sports felt like? But then, a sudden, sharp wave of intense pleasure hit my lower body. My thighs clamped shut instantly.

The commentator on screen was talking excitedly about how “synchronized and deeply connected” the two flyers were. My scalp went numb. That sensation… it was completely different from anything I had felt before. It was an overwhelming, electrifying rush. It felt like floating in heaven. But what terrified me was that Julian was in the middle of a live paragliding competition! How could he possibly have… that feeling right now? As the wave of pleasure finally receded, I sweat profusely, staring at the screen until they landed safely. They looked perfectly normal when they touched down. Their clothes were neat, and they calmly accepted the reporter’s interview. But a deep, dark suspicion had taken root in my mind. During the interview, Valerie’s voice carried a slight, trembling breathlessness that she couldn’t hide. “How was the flight, Valerie?” the reporter asked. “Oh… it was… incredible. So intense, so satisfying. I have to thank my partner. His positioning was perfect. It was a flight I’ll never forget.” Her voice shook slightly at the end, heavy with a lingering afterglow. I called Julian to congratulate him on passing the preliminaries. His voice sounded perfectly normal, confident and loud. “See that, babe? Crushed it. The championship is ours.” I swallowed the burning question in my throat. I couldn’t ask him yet. I didn’t want to alert them. After all, I had no physical proof. How could I prove they were having sex while flying in the sky? That night, I couldn’t sleep. I scrolled through the news and found a crazy article about a couple who hooked up on a hot air balloon. Because they got too wild, the man accidentally pushed the woman over the edge. She fell to her death, and the whole thing was caught on their GoPro. The man was charged with manslaughter. The comment section was wild: “People really lose their minds for adrenaline.” “Honestly, what a way to go.” “At least she died happy, literally at the peak of ecstasy.” Looking at the screen, the pit in my stomach grew deeper. Had Julian, my loving husband of three years, really betrayed me? To understand just how much freedom they had up there, I decided to book a flight to France myself. When I showed up at their training base, Julian’s jaw dropped. I acted completely oblivious, throwing my arms around his neck. “Julian! Did you miss me? I took some time off work to surprise you!” Valerie was standing nearby in a skin-tight black athletic suit that showed off her perfect body. She smirked, nudging Julian with her elbow. “Wow, Julian. Your little wife really can’t live without you. Crossing the ocean just to keep an eye on you.” There was no joy on Julian’s face. Instead, he looked annoyed that I had invaded his territory. “What are you doing here, Eve? If you’re bored, go back to the hotel. Treat this as a vacation.” I shook my head, my arms still looped around him. “No, I watched your stream and got super excited. I want to try paragliding too!” Julian froze. He finally noticed I was wearing professional gear. He grabbed my hand, his eyes darkening. “Eve, as a pro, I have to tell you. This is dangerous. Amateurs shouldn’t just jump into it.” I pulled my hand away, acting annoyed. “It’s fine. I’ve watched you do it for years, and I’ll have an instructor with me. What’s the big deal?” “I just want to see what’s so amazing about the view from thousands of feet up… and what kind of ‘thrill’ keeps you away from home for three years.” I really wanted to know. I paid a hefty fee to hire the most handsome instructor at the base, Marcus. He was tall, muscular, with abs practically tearing through his tight t-shirt. The weather was perfect. The wind was gentle, the sky crystal clear. Seeing he couldn’t stop me, Julian sighed. “Eve, these European instructors can be very… hands-on. Just be careful.” I ignored him. Marcus buckled me into the harness and went over the safety instructions. Then, he had me sit in front while he strapped himself directly behind me, wrapping his thick arms around me to control the glider. When the wind picked up, we ran down the grassy slope. “Hold on, beautiful, we’re taking off!” Marcus shouted near my ear. Before I could process his words, I felt something thick and warm press hard against my back. My mind went blank. Before I could react, our feet left the ground, and we soared into the valley.

Marcus’s grip was powerful. He quickly stabilized the glider, and we drifted into a smooth flight. At several hundred feet in the air, the sky looked much bluer than from the ground. Shaking with fear, I forced myself to open my eyes. The buildings and cars below shrank into tiny dots. The cliffs, the ocean, the clouds. It was a breathtaking, dizzying view. No wonder people got addicted to this. It was like flying. But because I was a beginner, we weren’t flying high or far. That didn’t stop Marcus. His hands began to wander. Luckily, I was wearing a thick, one-piece flight suit, and my parachute harness covered my back, so he couldn’t actually touch anything skin-to-skin. But knowing I was completely helpless in mid-air, Marcus got bolder. His hands slid along my waist and hips, squeezing places he shouldn’t have. My screams of fear only seemed to make him more excited. “Oh baby, has anyone ever told you how sexy you are?” he whispered huskily. I kept screaming to drown him out until we finally landed. My legs were like jelly. Julian was waiting at the landing zone. He rushed over. “How was it?” I panted, pretending to be utterly terrified. “It was… intense. But honestly, my mind went blank. I don’t remember a thing.” I played the scared, traumatized wife perfectly. Julian glanced at Marcus, then looked at my fully zipped flight suit and let out a sigh of relief. Valerie crossed her arms, letting out a mocking laugh. “Looks like someone doesn’t have the guts for our world. Julian is a pro, Eve. You need a different kind of stamina to keep up with him.” Julian laughed, lifting me up to carry me down the hill. “So, still want to try it again?” I didn’t answer. My mind was spinning with the realization of what I had just confirmed. This sport was full of dirty little secrets. If two experienced pros wanted to hook up in mid-air for the ultimate thrill, it was entirely possible. That night, back at our rental villa, I suddenly felt dizzy. I ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved into the toilet. Julian rushed in, looking tense. “Eve, is your period late?” I paused. “Actually… yeah. By almost two months. I thought it was just stress from worrying about you.” His eyes lit up. He immediately ran down to the nearest pharmacy and bought a pregnancy test. A minute later, two solid pink lines appeared. I was pregnant. “Oh my god, you’re pregnant?! We only did it a few times! I’m a genius!” “My parents are going to be thrilled! We finally have an heir for the family!” Julian was ecstatic. He cupped my face and kissed me deeply, then lifted me up and spun me around, ignoring my complaints of dizziness. Eventually, I threw up all over his expensive shirt. A few days later, Julian threw a massive party at his family’s luxury hotel in Miami to celebrate my pregnancy. His parents were there, and so was Valerie. Valerie wore a jaw-dropping, blood-red mermaid dress. She looked gorgeous, radiant, like a rose in full bloom. She didn’t come to celebrate. She came to outshine me. Because of my morning sickness, I wasn’t wearing any makeup and wore a simple, loose dress. The moment she walked in, she stole the spotlight. “Congrats, Eve,” she said, her smile flawless. “Now that you’re giving him a baby, you’ll be the perfect Mrs. Brooks. No one can ever take that away from you.” I smiled politely. “Thank you, Valerie. You’re an incredible athlete. I hope you keep reaching new heights in your career.” Julian’s parents were over the moon. Julian was an only child, and since he refused to run the family business, producing an heir was the only thing they cared about. While I was greeting guests, I kept an eye on Julian. He had already slipped away to chat with Valerie. They really were inseparable “partners.” Once the formal toasts were over and the room grew dark, I quietly slipped away and followed Julian. Sure enough, I pulled back a heavy velvet curtain to the terrace and found them wrapped around each other in the dark hallway, kissing passionately. Valerie’s tough-girl act was completely gone. Her dress was pulled down to her elbows as she whimpered. “Now that you’re going to be a dad, you’re going to spend all your time on your wife and kid. You’re going to forget about me.” Julian smirked, grabbing her chin roughly. She let out a soft gasp. “Babe, no matter how many kids I have, I’ll always be your daddy. You can call me that forever, not just in bed.” “Ugh, you’re so bad,” she giggled, kicking him playfully with her heel. “But I have to admit, this whole ‘family man’ vibe makes you even hotter.” They went back to devouring each other’s lips. I let go of the curtain, my hands shaking with rage. I forced myself to take deep, quiet breaths. They had been sleeping together for years. Valerie didn’t want kids to ruin her body, and Julian needed a wife to secure his family’s trust fund. So, they used me.

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My boyfriend, Tyler Vance, drugged me every single night. Then, he took me to the beds of his seven different wealthy friends. They made a crazy bet: “No protection. Whoever gets her pregnant in a month pays Tyler twenty million dollars.” One month later, I actually got pregnant. But the moment I held the positive pregnancy test, Tyler immediately booked an appointment at an abortion clinic for me. “Take care of this, and we’ll get married right away.” I slapped him hard across the face, shoving a marriage certificate in his face. “Get lost. Don’t ruin my wedding with my baby’s real father.” “Miss Davis, you don’t have a stomach bug. You’re pregnant.” The doctor’s words echoed in my head, making me dizzy. Pregnant? I wasn’t even married yet. I hadn’t even slept with a man. How on earth could I be pregnant? Holding the ultrasound sheet, my mind was a chaotic mess. I had no idea how to explain this to Tyler, since our wedding was scheduled for next month. Would he hate me? Would he call off the wedding immediately? My questions were answered when I stood outside a VIP lounge at the club and overheard Tyler talking to his seven friends. “It’s been a month. By now, Chloe should be pregnant, right?” “Yeah, the timing is just right. There’s no way none of the seven of us hit the jackpot.” Tyler was holding a cigarette, his new personal secretary, Amber Reed, sitting on his lap. “I’ll take her to the clinic for a checkup tomorrow,” Tyler said. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. What did they mean? Before I could even process their words, Tyler spoke again. “If she really is pregnant, you guys better get that twenty million dollars ready for me.” “Twenty million? You think any of us can’t afford that?” “Honestly, Tyler, you really know how to play. Other guys put their wives up as poker stakes, but you actually used your wife and the baby in her womb as a bet.” “You’re incredibly generous, man.” Tyler pinched Amber’s thigh under her skirt. “I had to. Life has been so boring lately. I just wanted to add some excitement to my life.” Amber let out a soft moan. “Mr. Vance, you wouldn’t put me on your friends’ beds tomorrow too, would you?” Tyler pinched her chin. “You? You’re not qualified to get on my friends’ beds.” His trashy friends raised their glasses in excitement. “Exactly. Who has a face and body like Chloe’s? Tyler, since you were willing to share her, we won’t treat you badly in the future.” “Right. It’s a deal. In the future, everyone’s wife has to be shared like this. Otherwise, you’re kicked out of our circle forever.” A cold shiver ran down my spine. My legs shook violently. These bastards actually used me as a bet. They used my unborn child as a toy. And the mastermind was my own fiancé. My hands clenched into tight fists. I was about to kick the door open and kill these monsters. Suddenly, a pair of large, warm hands covered my mouth and dragged me into the empty VIP suite next door. I struggled violently. “Let me go! Let me go right now! My fiancé is right next door!” “Are you sure he’s still your fiancé?” The man’s warm breath brushed against my earlobe, making me shudder. I froze. This man was one of Tyler’s seven friends. Alex Stone. I quickly spun around, backing against the wall. “Don’t come near me! Stay back!” He clicked a lighter, lit a cigarette, but then looked at my belly and immediately stubbed it out in the ashtray. “What? Surprised to hear that?” I wasn’t just surprised; I was consumed by a burning rage. Tyler and I had known each other for fifteen years and had been dating for five. When his family went bankrupt, I used my family’s resources to pull him back to the top. And our wedding was next month. Yet now, he was literally delivering me to other men’s beds. Seven of them! I forced myself to calm down. I couldn’t lose my head. I needed to find a breakthrough, and I had to start with Alex. I pinched my own arm hard to keep from crying, taking deep breaths. Finally, Alex, who was lounging on the sofa, spoke first. “What do you want to ask me?” I closed my eyes, not daring to look at him, but I forced the words out. “How did I end up in your beds? Why don’t I remember anything?” “Because Tyler drugged you every night. You were completely blacked out. He carried you to our beds himself, and then brought you back home before dawn.” “What kind of drug?” As soon as I asked, I regretted it. What else could it be? “Why are you telling me this?” I asked, staring at him. “Aren’t you afraid of ruining your friendship with Tyler?” He let out a cold laugh. “Him? My friend? He’s not on my level. And…” He slowly stood up, walked over, and pulled me onto his lap. “And there’s a very high chance that the baby in your belly is mine. So…” I slapped him hard across the face. “Get lost!” Instead of letting me go, he pinned my hands above my head. “Chloe, you didn’t feel anything the first few times. Do you want to try it today while you’re awake?” I didn’t let him finish. I brought my knee up hard straight into his crotch. Groaning in pain, he finally released me. But as I turned to leave, his low voice drifted from behind me. “Do you want to destroy Tyler Vance?”

When I pushed open the door to Tyler’s VIP lounge, Amber quickly slid off his lap. Tyler’s pants were unzipped. Thankfully, the room was dark, and he quickly zipped them back up. The other bastards looked at me with weird, knowing smiles. “Whoa, Chloe. Are you here to keep Tyler on a leash?” “Don’t worry, we’re keeping a close eye on him for you. He’s behaving.” Thinking about what I had just heard, I walked straight up to Tyler and slapped him across the face. He got angry instantly. “What the hell are you doing?!” I shook my hand casually. “Nothing. There was a fly on your face.” Amber gasped, “Mr. Vance, does it hurt? I’ll get you some ice.” I turned around and slapped her face too. “Does it hurt? Feel it yourself.” She covered her cheek, her eyes welling with tears. “Miss Davis, how can you just assault people like this?” “Assault?” I smirked at her. “Do I look like I’m just hitting random people? My hands only hit trashy men and cheap girls.” She stamped her foot, whining to Tyler. “Mr. Vance, you have to stand up for me! I can’t just let her hit me for no reason!” Tyler shoved her away and gently grabbed my hand. “Does your hand hurt, babe?” “Not at all.” I slapped him twice more, left and right. In front of all his friends, his ego finally cracked. “Can you not be so jealous in public? My friends are all here. Do you have to embarrass me like this?” His friends had all slept with me, and he still cared about his “embarrassment”? “Tyler, life is just too boring and flat. I wanted to add some excitement to it too.” His expression changed. “What do you mean by that?” I smiled. “Nothing. Just talking.” Before I left, I walked up to every single one of his friends and slapped them too. “So sorry, guys. If you want to return the slap, do it to Tyler. After all, you guys are best friends.” Tyler ran out after me, apologizing to his friends along the way. “Chloe, what is wrong with you today? Is it because of Amber?” “Don’t worry about her. She’s just a plaything. All my friends do it, and if I don’t join in, I’ll be left out of their business circles. They won’t share their investment deals with me.” “You know my family went bankrupt once. Life was so hard back then, everyone looked down on me. I never want to go back to that.” “I can’t lose these friends who can make me rich.” He remembered his past struggle, but he completely forgot that I was the one who pulled him out of that quicksand. I desperately wanted to stab him right there, but I held back. I wanted him to fall from the absolute peak. After all, the higher you stand, the harder you crash. The next morning, he was standing at my front door. “Chloe, didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well yesterday? Let me take you to the hospital.” I didn’t reject him. I wanted to see him act. At the hospital, the doctor smiled and congratulated me. “You’re pregnant, four weeks along. Congratulations!” “Pregnant?!” The suppressed rage on Tyler’s face was so realistic, he deserved an Oscar. He dragged me into his car and locked the doors. “Tell me the truth! How did this happen? When did you cheat on me? Who is the man?!” I shook my head, crying. “I don’t know… I don’t know anything.” “How can you not know?!” He shook my shoulders violently. “Whose bed did you climb into? How can you not know?” “Chloe, I never knew you were such a shameless woman!” He got angrier and angrier. “Yesterday you threw a tantrum over Amber, and today you present me with a bastard child? Wow, Chloe. Just wow.” I kept crying. “Don’t ask me. I really don’t know who it is. It felt like… like there were many men, but my head was so foggy.” A flash of panic went through his eyes. “How many do you remember?” What a piece of trash. I shook my head. “I don’t know, I really don’t. Tyler, please don’t ask me anymore.” He clenched his fists, took several deep breaths, and then slowly hugged me tight. “It’s okay. We’ll abort this bastard child, and everything will go back to how it was.” “No!” I screamed, sobbing. “Tyler, I don’t deserve you anymore. I can’t marry you. Let’s cancel the wedding.” He panicked. “How can we cancel it? No! I told you, no matter what happens, no matter how badly you hurt me, I will forgive you.” “Chloe, as long as you get rid of this baby and transfer the Davis Enterprises shares your parents left you to my name, I will forgive you completely.” “I won’t tell anyone about this. You just need to quietly get the abortion.” “Really?” I asked timidly, wiping my tears. “You really won’t hold it against me?” “Only if you agree to my terms.” I immediately opened the car door. “Fine. Let’s go abort it right now.”

“No abortion!” Alex stood in front of us, with the other six bastards right behind him. “Tyler, your fiancée is pregnant with such a big blessing, and you didn’t even share the good news with us?” “Yeah, this is a massive celebration! Why would you abort it?” “Wait, is this baby not yours, Tyler? Chloe, did you cheat on him?” I hid behind Tyler, pretending to be terrified. “No, I didn’t! This baby is Tyler’s!” They burst out laughing. “Really? But we heard you guys hadn’t even slept together yet.” “Chloe, didn’t you always say you wanted to save yourself for the wedding night? And now you’re already pregnant?” Tyler’s face turned bright red. “Shut up, all of you! The baby is definitely mine. If you don’t believe me, we’ll do a DNA test in a month!” He turned to me. “Don’t worry, Chloe. I won’t let them ruin your reputation.” What a hypocrite. He knew damn well the baby wasn’t his. Just to keep me in his trap and win their bet, he wanted me to carry this baby until next month. He just wanted to humiliate me. That night, Alex sent me a Snapchat video. In the video, Amber was riding Tyler, her face flushed. Tyler gasped, saying, “One more month… this wait is killing me.” “But whoever’s baby it is, we’ll abort it anyway in the end.” Justin laughed and asked, “Tyler, if Chloe ever finds out the truth, how do you think she’ll take revenge on you?” “Revenge?” Tyler sneered. “What power does she have left to fight me? Besides the Davis Enterprises shares her parents left her, what other leverage does she have?” “Once I hold this cheating scandal over her head, she’ll sign over all her shares to me. What can she possibly do to me then?” “Man, Tyler, you are the absolute worst piece of trash I’ve ever met.” Tyler gasped loudly. “Oh, please. You guys didn’t complain when you were sleeping with her. I’m trash, but you guys aren’t?” “True, true. You’re the generous one. When are we doing another round? I’ve never tried a pregnant woman before. I heard they feel different.” Tyler’s face finally went cold. “Only once. That was the deal. Don’t ever bring it up again. If anyone leaks this, don’t blame me for ruining our friendship.” “You guys have to understand. Once I get the Davis trust fund, my net worth and status will be on a completely different level.” His trashy friends finally shut up, though one muttered, “Yeah, you’ll be back at the top. But still, you can’t beat Alex.” I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. I took a pair of scissors and shredded Tyler’s photos. Tyler, I’m going to give you a massive present at our wedding next month. A gift that you designed, but I will deliver right back to you. Just wait. You bastard. As for the baby, I would never abort it, because I had already found his real father.

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My sister Cassie forwarded a video to the family group chat. The title read: “I’m 25, and I’ve finally decided to move out.” Before I could even tap on it, the chat had already exploded. Ethan sent a beaming emoji: “My little sister’s finally seen the light! First month’s deposit is on me.” Mom followed with a string of hearts: “Every girl needs her own space. Independence is what real confidence is built on. Mom’s got your back.” Dad chimed in right after: “Whatever place you’ve got your eye on, your mother and I will cover the deposit. Don’t worry about money.” Thrilled, I forwarded a listing I’d been saving for months. The lively chat went dead silent. Half an hour passed before anyone remembered I existed. Then Mom dropped a link to a rental market article: “Rents are outrageous these days. Not a great time to sign a lease. Don’t you still have student loans to pay off? Don’t put too much on your plate.” Dad replied with a thumbs-up: “Your mother’s right.” Ethan added: “Come on, just find yourself a rich boyfriend and let him foot the bill. Problem solved.” I stared at the screen, my fingertips slowly going cold. I thought of the folding cot in the basement. The window nailed shut. The ceiling barely six-foot-three. Cold as an icebox in winter. Meanwhile Cassie lived in the south-facing master bedroom on the second floor. Ensuite bath. Walk-in closet. A view of the apple tree in the backyard. The year she started college, Mom and Dad paid her tuition in full. I’d been out of school for four years, and I was still carrying sixty-eight thousand dollars in student loans. Five minutes later, Cassie posted another funny video. The chat came alive again. As if I’d never said a word. I quit the group chat and opened my email. The offer letter sat quietly in my inbox. Signing bonus: eighteen thousand dollars. Two thousand miles from home. Start date: three weeks out. I stared at the screen, and clicked Accept. … At dinner, Mom asked in an offhand tone. “Molly, that listing you forwarded—did you actually look at it carefully?” The table was loaded with food. All of it was Ethan and Cassie’s favorites. “Yeah. I looked. One bedroom, one bath, close to the office. Pretty nice.” She frowned, tore a drumstick off the roast chicken, and dropped it into Cassie’s bowl. “How much a month?” “Eleven hundred.” “That expensive?” Ethan spooned more mashed potatoes onto Cassie’s plate, then turned to me with a solemn air. “You’re still young. You don’t understand how the rental market works. You can’t just decide something like that on a whim.” Dad didn’t even look up. “How much do you make in a month? You’ve got someone cooking for you at home. Don’t stir up trouble. There’s a house here—why waste money renting?” I paused, and looked up toward my “room.” The basement. Under a hundred and fifty square feet, packed to the walls with Dad’s fishing boat, Mom’s Christmas decorations, and Ethan’s old suitcases. A folding cot was crammed into the corner, surrounded by piles of off-season clothes and old books. It wasn’t even a room. Just a storage closet converted into a makeshift crash pad. Cassie had been in this family for fifteen years. I’d lived in that environment for fifteen years too—and been overlooked for fifteen years by everyone in it. Just like now. Cassie only had to set down her fork to draw every eye in the room. “My paycheck isn’t much to begin with. My car payments are already coming out of Mom and Dad’s pocket. If I have to add rent on top of that, how am I supposed to buy handbags? How am I supposed to eat anywhere nice?” The day Cassie graduated, Mom and Dad bought her a white Jeep. “For a safe, easy commute,” they said. I’d been working a year longer than Cassie, and I was still driving a beat-up used Corolla. The back door didn’t always open. I chewed through the last piece of roasted potato without tasting a thing. Mom took Cassie’s hand and said, earnestly: “Cassie, honey, don’t worry about the money. You’ve got me and Dad, don’t you?” “And your sister can chip in too. She lives here rent-free—she’s getting the good end of the deal. She ought to pull her weight.” My jaw stopped mid-bite. I couldn’t swallow. Seeing I didn’t respond, Dad smoothed things over. “We’re family. No need to talk about who pulls what weight.” He steered the conversation elsewhere. I sat at the corner of the table, listening to them debate neighborhoods and floor plans. It was as if two worlds separated us. Nobody brought up the listing I’d shared. Nobody noticed the tear that fell onto my plate. After dinner, I cleared the table and washed the dishes alone. Cassie’s laughter drifted in from the living room. She was unboxing the computer and accessories Ethan had bought her—a whole month of his salary, the newest MacBook Pro. “Thank you, my absolute favorite big brother!” “Anything to make my little sister happy.” Dishes clinked against each other. It struck me suddenly that Ethan had given me things too. Just—used-up earbuds. Worn-out hoodies. Cast-off phones… Before Cassie came, Ethan used to love me. I used to ride along with him to every dialysis appointment. I’d make him laugh, and he’d buy me a strawberry lollipop. I used to think, aside from Mom and Dad, he and I were the closest people in the world to each other. Then Ethan finally got better. The kidney donor was Cassie’s father. Nobody expected it—Ethan recovered, but Cassie’s father never got up from that hospital bed. So the day Cassie was brought home, when she hit me in a fit of rage, all Mom did was hold her and cry and say, “From now on, you’re my own daughter. I will never let anyone hurt you.” I understood my parents. It was a grief no one could get past. So I was good. I was reasonable. I tried to think of Cassie as a real sister. But the day she found out about my grades, she fell apart. She said she didn’t deserve to be in this family. I still remember the disappointment in Dad’s eyes. “Molly, I’ve taught you better than this. There’s nothing worse in a person than vanity.” Cassie ran away from home that night. Mom hit me for the first time in my life. Every certificate and trophy on my wall was dumped in the trash. That was when I started to understand: my good grades didn’t earn me praise from my parents. They earned me contempt. So I learned to hold back. To dial down my scores. Until my senior year of high school, when I refused to sacrifice my own future any longer. I stopped holding back. Predictably, my scores soared. And the day my college acceptance letter arrived, Cassie slit her wrists. “Are you trying to kill her?” Ethan—who used to hold my hand, who used to buy me candy—looked at me with pure disgust for the first time. “You have to fight for everything. How do I have a sister like you?” “I wish Cassie were my real sister.” The acceptance letter in my hand felt like a verdict, snuffing out whatever patience my family had left for me. The living room still rang with the family’s laughter. The dishes were done, and I stood there, not knowing where to go. Of the two-thousand-square-foot house, all that was mine was that folding cot wedged between a fishing boat and a stack of old boxes. After Cassie came, my bedroom became Cassie’s. The second bedroom was converted into Cassie’s walk-in closet. Later, when there was no place left for my things, I tried to move a few of Cassie’s items aside. Dad said: “Molly, put that down. Your sister’s clothes are expensive—they’re a pain to clean. You’re the older sister. Show some sense.” Mom’s tone made it clear there was no arguing. “Don’t compete with your sister over every little thing. I’ve cleaned out the basement for you. The window’s nailed shut, but it blocks the light beautifully. Warm in winter, cool in summer.” The room that had once been mine was locked away from me. I drifted back down to the basement and lay on that folding cot. The fluorescent bulb flickered twice. I stared at the ceiling and felt my heart teetering on the edge of collapse. I opened my phone. The offer letter from San Francisco. Two years ago, I’d stupidly turned down a high-paying job just to be close to home—just to be near my parents. This time, I told no one. Of course, no one cared. Move date: three weeks out. In three weeks, I would disappear from this cramped basement for good.

Two days later, on the weekend, Mom dragged the whole family up early. “Come on. We’re going with Cassie to look at apartments.” My mood on the ride over was complicated. Four years out of school. Sixty-eight thousand dollars in debt. But once the signing bonus hit, I could wipe out at least half of it. Maybe this time I could talk to Mom and Dad about it. Borrow a little to clear the loan, then pay them back slowly. But the thin thread of hope I’d carried in vanished the moment we walked into the sales office. “My daughter’s the one moving in. Of course we listen to her.” Turns out the “daughter” in Mom’s mouth didn’t include me. Dad nodded and instructed the agent: “One bedroom’s too cramped. My daughter lives alone, but she needs at least two bedrooms. South-facing, plenty of light. Open kitchen. The living room needs to fit that new sofa of hers…” Ethan pulled out a credit card and ruffled Cassie’s hair with a smile: “Pick whatever you like. Anything over budget, big brother’s got it.” The four of them wandered through the model unit, discussing floor plans and orientations. To anyone watching, they looked like a picture-perfect family of four. A family that didn’t need a fifth person. And in that moment, the one who didn’t fit was me. “Sis, come look, tell me what you think.” Mom and Dad remembered me at last. “Don’t just stand there. Help your sister pick. Once she moves out, we’ll need to clean out the basement. Toss those old suitcases and make room for Dad’s fishing boat.” My chest tightened. They hadn’t even discussed it with me. They’d already decided the basement’s new use. Dad fished twice a month. His boat needed a home. And the place where I’d lived for fifteen years, in his eyes, was just a “storage room.” As if he could read my mind, Ethan spoke calmly: “Mom and Dad are ordinary folks. They can only do so much. Cassie’s just started working. Her salary’s low. It’s only right we help her out. Weren’t you already independent?” He paused. “Besides, those student loans of yours—you’re the one who signed for them.” Mom nodded in agreement. “Molly, you’ve always been the reasonable one. Stop comparing yourself to your sister.” Always the reasonable one. That was true. I really was. Reasonable enough that in front of relatives, Mom bragged about me most. “Molly’s the easy one. Never asked for anything at school. She was happy in Ethan’s hand-me-down hoodies.” “When there’s one last carton of ice cream in the house, Molly never touches it. She always leaves it for her sister.” “Ethan’s off gaming, Cassie’s at piano lessons, and Molly’s home helping with dinner, washing up. Her cookies are the best.” I wanted to laugh. I was reasonable because I felt sorry for them. Dad’s business had been struggling for years. Mom worked night shifts at the hospital until her back gave out. I wanted to share the burden. And they thought I was useful. Looking at the four of them chatting and laughing, backs turned to me, I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned and walked out. Ten minutes later, my phone chimed. Ethan: Where’d you go? Not looking at the place? Cassie says there’s no one to take her pictures now, and she’s got nothing to post to her Insta story. I stared at the screen, and a bitter laugh escaped me. So that was what I existed for. To take her pictures. I choked back tears and stared out the window, my chest heaving. “Sweetie, breakups are just small stuff. Always remember, family is your last line of defense.” The driver handed me a tissue through the rearview mirror. I paused, caught off guard. After a long moment, I forced out a thank-you and buried my face in the crook of my arm. I stayed out all day. Not a single person called. That evening, I got one message from Mom. Come home. Cassie’s laundry needs to go in the dryer. She’s out with friends tonight and can’t wait around. I wiped my eyes and laughed out loud. What was I still hoping for? I went home planning to start packing. Three weeks and I’d be gone. But when I walked in, Mom was standing at the top of the basement stairs, her expression off.

“Molly, come with me.” No hint of concern. Mom’s face was dark as she walked into her bedroom and yanked open the nightstand drawer. “The pearl earrings I had in here—did you touch them?” My mind went blank with a low hum. Pearl earrings. In a flash it came back to me: they were the Christmas gift I’d bought her two years ago, with my very first real paycheck. “Mom—you think I took them?” “Ethan said you were in here this morning mopping…” The words caught in my throat. “Have you forgotten? I’m the one who bought them for you!” Mom looked a little uncomfortable, but the suspicion in her eyes didn’t fade in the slightest. “That’s right, Molly, you gave them to me. So why would you take them back?” She paused before the word take. What Mom really wanted to say was steal. I couldn’t speak. Suddenly nothing in front of me felt real. It was absurd. Everyone in the living room had drifted in, drawn by the noise. Once Dad figured out what was going on, he finally muttered hoarsely: “Never mind. Let’s just say I lost them.” Ethan sighed, patted my shoulder, and spoke with a hint of disappointment. “Molly, you’re still my sister. If you really needed money, why didn’t you just come to me?” They all sounded like they were defending me. But every one of them assumed I’d taken them. “Is that what you all think of me?” I couldn’t hold it back. My voice trembled, and my fingertips went white where I dug them into my palm. Why? Why, every time I thought this had to be the last blow, did they land another one? Just two nights ago, I’d been thinking about each of them. Thinking that in three weeks I’d be gone, and I should leave something behind for each of them. Mom’s back was bad—I’d ordered her a heated massage pad online. Dad’s fishing rod was over ten years old—I’d bought him a full St. Croix set. I’d even written Ethan a check. I knew he was saving up to trade in his car, and I thought it might help. And this was what I got in return? Mom folded her arms across her chest, her expression darkening. “Don’t think I couldn’t tell. At the sales office today, watching Cassie pick out her apartment—you were eaten up with jealousy!” I froze. She knew. She had known all along. I glanced around, closed my eyes, and every ounce of strength drained out of me. “Fine. Then call the police—” “Mom! These earrings are so pretty—they’re exactly my size!” Cassie’s coy voice floated in. The missing pearl earrings were now in her ears. Oblivious, she stood in front of the vanity mirror, admiring them. “I love these. Mom, can I borrow them for a few days?” “Sweetheart, you took them without saying anything?” “Pearls are too grown-up for you anyway. If you like them, keep them. I’ll get you a pair more your age in a few days.” Ethan waved a hand. “All right, all right. Big misunderstanding. Earrings are found. Everybody’s happy.” The TV in the living room clicked on. They settled in, same as always, watching Cassie’s favorite Netflix reality show. As if everything that had just happened had been a hallucination of mine. No one apologized to me. I stood there like a ghost, forgotten in place.

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I saved the Dragon King when he was beggar. He made me Duchess. But my father pinned me down and ripped the elven skin off my face. And gave it to my cousin Mira. He says: “You’re useless. Mira deserves that title more than you ever did.” “Now go take her place in the brothel.” Then my fiancé Dorian smiles. “Mira and I have been fucking for months. We’re getting married.” “But don’t worry. Once we’re settled, you can be our little fucktoy on the side.” I laugh. That title Mira just stole? She has no idea what hell she just traded for. ** Dorian looks at me like I’m the love of his life. “Just do what your father says.” “You’ve always been frigid anyway. At least in the brothel, you might finally learn how to be a good fuck.” I nod. “Fine.” I say yes so fast my father doesn’t even have time to react. He’s thrilled. He snaps his fingers, and servants rip the jewelry off me, pull the pins from my hair, shove me into rough peasant clothes. I stand still. I let them. “Don’t blame me,” my father sighs. “Mira’s mother’s family just got purged by the new King. Every woman in their house is being sent to the brothel.” “If anyone finds Thornwood belongings on a girl in the brothel, it’ll ruin our name.” “Once the glamour’s done, you’ll walk yourself to the brothel. Better than having the law come knocking.” “Father. Am I really your daughter?” He blinks. “What nonsense are you talking?” “Of course you’re mine. But Mira lost her mother young, and her own father despised her. She’s had it hard enough.” “And you’ll be a cum dump by then. But I’ll still fuck you sometimes. And Mira won’t mind sharing.” “See? Good days ahead.” Dorian grabs my arms and pins me to the chair. I thrash. My father pulls a blade from his belt and presses it to my hairline. Then he cuts. I scream. Dorian holds me tighter. “Shh,” he whispers against my ear. “Just bear it. It’s for Mira’s future.” He drags the blade down. Then he rips until there’s nothing left of my face but raw flesh. Blood runs into my mouth. I choke on it. My father doesn’t stop. Then he grabs my pointed, elven ears. He slices them off. The glamour mage steps in. New skin grows over the wound. Mira’s face. My father turns to the mage. “For Mira, use the painless method. The expensive one. I won’t have her hurt.” When it’s done, the mirror shows a stranger. Dorian claps his hands. “Guards, this woman is a wanted criminal. Throw her out.” He whispers to me, “We have to sell the act. Don’t blow it.” Two servants grab me and drag me toward the door. I take a deep breath and shout: “I’m Mira Ashford. I’ll walk myself!” My father and Dorian exchange a knowing smile. My father reaches out and strokes my freshly glamoured face, the one still burning with pain. “Good, Elara. You were always the obedient one. That’s why this works.” Dorian pulls a bundle from his coat. Inside: loose coins, healing salve, a book of bed tricks. Everything a whore might need in a brothel. He presses it into my arms. “I went to the brothel myself and asked what you’d need. I prepared all of this for you.” A tear drops from my eye. I walk toward the front gate. “Elara!” A scream from behind. My mother comes running, gasping for air, and throws her arms around me. “Elara, I heard you saved the Dragon King’s life. They made you Duchess?” “Oh, thank the gods. No one will ever hurt you again.” She pulls me into her arms and holds me tight. “You’ve suffered so much for my sake. Finally, it’s over.” I can’t hold it anymore. Tears pour down onto my mother’s neck. She panics, pulling back. “What’s wrong? What happened?” My father’s eyes dart away. Dorian keeps glancing at the gate. He pushes, “Hurry it up. If the law finds out, we’re done.” My mother frowns. “Finds out what?” My father says nothing. He waves for the servants to take me out. My mother’s suspicion grows. She grabs me and won’t let go. “How dare you! Elara is the Duchess of Ashgrove, named by the Dragon King himself!” A gate servant rushes in. “My lord, officers are coming this way!” My mother panics. “Officers? Why?” Dorian loses patience. He pries her fingers off me one by one. “She’s Mira now. Elara and Mira swapped faces. Look, it’s complicated, just get her out of here.” My mother screams and clutches me. She won’t let go. She looks at my father. Then at my bandaged face. She understands. She goes hysterical: “You bastard!” “It’s not enough that you never treated her like a daughter. Now you want your own child to take someone else’s place in a brothel?” “I will bash my head against this wall before I let you!” She grabs me, sobbing so hard she can barely breathe: “My sweet girl, you saved the Dragon King’s life. You earned this title with your own hands. Why would you give it away?” “Did you forget what you promised me?” I’m crying so hard I can’t speak. But I pull my hand free. I force a smile. “Mother, there are things more important than titles and reputation.” “My mind’s made up. I won’t regret this.” I push her away and stride toward the gate. She tries to follow, but the servants hold her back. Then she screams: “Elara Thornwood, if you take one more step out that gate, I’ll die right here in front of you.”

I see my mother pull a pin and press it against her own throat. My chest caves in. I force down everything I feel. I turn away from her. “You die, and you lose your title as lady of this house.” She cries harder. “”I spent years letting him walk all over me, terrified he’d divorce me. All of it was for your future. Now you’re headed to a brothel. What do I have left to fear?” I nod. “Then you don’t need to take his shit anymore. Ask for the divorce yourself.” My mother collapses to the ground. “Elara, what spell do they have on you?” My father storms over, throws a writ of divorce at her, and orders the servants to shove me out the gate. I clench my jaw and don’t look back. My mother’s wailing echoes in my ears. I tell myself: at least she’s divorced now. She’s free of the Thornwoods. Dorian doesn’t trust my mother to stay quiet. He rides in a carriage behind the officers escorting me to the brothel. He bribes the Madam with a bag of silver for a few minutes alone with me. She leaves. Then Dorian opens the door and lets three men in. “She’s supposed to be Mira Ashford,” he tells them. “Mira’s no virgin. Make it convincing.” He turns to me. His eyes are soft. “I’m sorry, Elara. It has to be real.” The three men smirk. One looks at my face and laughs. “This ugly thing? They’d better be paying double.” The first one shoves me onto the cot and rips my dress open. I scream. Something inside me snaps. Not just skin and flesh. Deeper. I feel my magic drain. The elven blood in me thrashes, then dims. The second one flips me over, grabs my hair, and slams my face into the mattress. I bite the mattress until my teeth crack. Another wave of power bleeds out of me. I want to beg. But who would I beg? My eyes find Dorian in the doorway. He’s leaning against the frame, arms crossed, watching like it’s a show. The third one is the roughest. He grabs my hips so hard I hear something crack. When it’s over, my underclothes are soaked in blood. My tongue tastes like iron. I used to be half-elf. Now I’m just half of nothing. The three men leave without a word. Dorian watches from the doorway the entire time. He pours me wine. I take a sip. It burns my bitten tongue and I cry out. Dorian kneels beside me, wiping my face with his sleeve. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” I can’t feel my legs. I slump in the chair. My voice is barely there. “What else do you want to say?” Dorian glances at the window. “Should be any moment now.” I blink. “What?” Before he finishes, someone bursts through the door in a hooded cloak. It’s Mira. She drops to her knees, tears in her eyes. “Oh, Elara, you’re willing to take my place in the brothel. I’ll repay you tenfold.” Dorian rushes to help her up. “You’re hurt. Why did you come so fast?” My numb heart cracks open again. “Blame yourself,” Mira murmurs, leaning into him. “You fucked me so hard I can barely walk.” She melts into Dorian’s arms. His hand slides over her waist, lingering. But he remembers to explain: “Elara, Mira’s only been close to me because she has to act like you now.” “Don’t worry. You’re the one I love.” I nod. “Very close indeed.” I force myself to stand. I open the door, call in the Madam’s people, and have them escorted out. The moment they’re gone, the Madam drags me to the punishment room. She says I need to see what happens to highborn girls who think they’re better than everyone else. Screams fill the air. The women being beaten blur together with the memory of my mother. In Thornwood Manor, my father beat my mother too. I remember what she used to say to me, bruised and broken. She told me: don’t be like me. No one in this world will be your shield. If you want a good life, you fight for it yourself. So I worked. I trained. Swordplay, lore, music, painting, poise, beauty. All of it. I wanted to claw my way to a future worth having. I wanted to save my mother. And today, all of it turned to dust. At the peak of my family’s power, I ended up in a brothel. My father’s betrayal. Dorian’s lies. Each one cuts like a blade. I want to cry. But I know crying won’t save me. “Mother,” I whisper. “Wait for me.” Next morning, I stand at the front door in see-through silk, calling to men like the other whores. The street is packed. Horns blaring, banners flying, a wedding procession. People whisper: “Is that the Duchess of Ashgrove marrying into House Hale?” “Yes. They say she saved the Dragon King’s life. Fed him, healed him, gave him coin when he was half-dead.” “A true heroine…” That’s my story. But it’s not mine anymore. Tears roll down. Someone in the crowd asks: “Didn’t Dorian Hale used to go boating with Lord Thornwood’s cousin? She’s in the brothel now. Why didn’t he save her?” Dorian’s face goes cold. “Watch your tongue. That woman threw herself at me shamelessly. I want nothing to do with her.” The crowd cheers. People pile on congratulations, one after another. “I hear you and the Duchess grew up together, Dorian! How many children are you planning?” Dorian turns. The wind catches the carriage curtain. Their eyes meet through the window, his and Mira’s, tender and deep.” I watch this perfect couple, and somewhere along the way, the sharp stabbing in my chest goes numb.

Soon enough, the night I go on sale comes. I haven’t fought back once. I’ve been good. Pouring wine, scrubbing floors, learning how to moan on command. The Madam is pleased. She arranges a proper auction for me. The night I step on stage, I look out and see my father, Dorian, and Mira sitting together in the crowd. When they spot me, all three breathe a sigh of relief. My first client is a lordling who tried to court me when I was still Lady Elara. I turned him down. Now He puts his filthy boot on my face. “Your cousin’s a Duchess, and you’re a whore. Funny how that works, isn’t it?” I smile my prettiest smile. “Being a whore’s not bad. Better than being a Duchess, even.” The lordling howls with laughter, eyes full of mockery. His friends poke me with their riding crops. “She’s trying so hard to save face.” “Still clinging to that little scrap of pride.” Another one spits: “Bastard-born bitch. Born to be trash.” Then a stumbling figure bursts through the door. She shoves the lordling aside and screams, voice cracking: “This is my daughter, Elara Thornwood! Not the criminal Mira Ashford!” “You’ve all got it wrong! All of you!” “She’s the Duchess. She’s the one who saved the Dragon King!” My mother looks terrible. Her skin that used to be so pale and smooth is now sunburnt and rough. Her lips tremble as she pulls my thin clothes closed over my chest, almost choking on her own sobs. “Elara. Why? Just tell me why.” “Please, come with me to the magistrate. We’ll tell them the truth.” I swallow my tears. I force myself to imitate Mira’s careless swagger. “You here for a good time too?” My mother freezes. Then cries even harder. She’s almost begging now. “Tell me the truth. Did your father threaten me to make you do this?” “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m a divorced woman now. Your father has no hold on me.” “I’m taking you to the magistrate right now. We’ll demand justice.” I look past her shoulder. “Here comes the law.” My father and Dorian rush in. My father grabs my mother by the throat and hurls her out of the brothel. Dorian bows to the lordling and his friends. “Gentlemen, this woman is my wife’s cousin. Do us a favor. Come back another night.” Through the the curtain, I see my mother thrown onto the street. She can’t get up for a long time. I swallow my tears and follow the Madam into the punishment room. She says I caused trouble. I need to be taught a lesson. After that, I’m moved to the back. Days hauling water and scrubbing pots. Nights sleeping on the floor. No one comes for me anymore. I hear my mother came back a few more times. I sent word. Told her to pretend I’m dead. The back is exhausting. But it’s quiet. That doesn’t last. The lead courtesan dies, and the Madam is short on girls. She drags me back to the front and puts me up again. This time, the one who picks me is someone I know.

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My water breaks in a rush of heat and pain, but my Mafia husband is too busy polishing my best friend’s shoes. I grab Dante’s arm. “We need to go. Now.” He’s already on one knee, brush in hand, working a white heel like it’s the most important job in the world. Bianca stands barefoot in front of the mirror, finger-combing her hair. “Give me five minutes. I can’t show up as Mia’s godmother with greasy hair. The photos will be ruined.” The contraction hits me like a truck. I press my hand flat against the wall and breathe through it. My father is already on his way. He calls ahead on video, his face white. “The doctor is waiting. You need to leave right now.” I look at Dante. “I’m already dilating. If we don’t go now, we could both die in there.” He waves me off without looking up. “Labor takes hours. You’ll just sit there and wait. Stop being dramatic.” Dramatic. My water broke and he called me dramatic. I watch him blow on the toe of Bianca’s heel, check the shine, go back for another pass. Something in me just goes quiet. I pull out my phone. Open a contact I haven’t touched in years. You said you wanted both me and the baby. I’ve got maybe thirty minutes. Get here and you’re her father. The reply comes back in seconds. ? Then: Done. On my way. The shower runs. Dante doesn’t rush her. He finds her blow dryer, sets it to warm, lays it on the counter like he’s dressing a queen. I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor. The midwife kneels beside me. Her voice is steady but her eyes are scared. “Mr. Dante. The amniotic fluid is leaking. The baby can lose oxygen at any point. You have a thirty-minute window. You need to leave now.” My brother’s wife steps forward. “She hasn’t hit her due date. This is an emergency. Even if Elena can hold on, the baby can’t.” Every person in the room is staring at Dante. He doesn’t look up. He’s lining up Bianca’s skincare bottles on the bathroom shelf. “She’s just washing her hair. It’ll be fast.” Then he glances at me. Almost gentle. “We’ll do a C-section if it comes to that. You weren’t planning to go natural anyway.” I stare at him. “Do you understand how dangerous this is right now?” “Mm.” He turns back toward the bathroom. One syllable. Done with me. I take a breath and hurl a pillow at his back. “I said we could both die. I need to leave right now. Did you hear me?” He turns around and the look on his face isn’t fear. It’s irritation. “What is your problem? You’ve been pregnant for nine months and suddenly the whole world has to stop?” “She’s washing her hair. You’re the one who said she could be Mia’s godmother. You can’t wait ten minutes?” The blow dryer cuts off. Bianca appears in the doorway, hair half-wet, head tilted. “Come on. We agreed I’d be Mia’s godmother. This is my moment too. Just let me dry off a little. I’ll be so fast.” The blow dryer roars back to life. Dante takes it out of her hands. “You’re too slow. Let me do it.” I watch my husband carefully dry another woman’s hair while mine plasters cold and damp against my neck. During my third trimester I asked him once. Just help me dry my hair. He said he was tired from work. Another contraction. Harder. The midwife checks me and goes still. “The fluid is turning yellow. That means contamination. We leave right now.” She doesn’t wait. She walks to the outlet and yanks the plug. The blow dryer dies. Bianca spins around. “Excuse me? Who does this nurse think she is?” Dante’s jaw tightens. “Elena. Don’t be difficult. It’s just a few more minutes.” He plugs it back in. I drag myself upright. The hospital calls. “It’s 10:20. Where is the patient? The OR is prepped. You must arrive before eleven. Do not wait.” I reach over and pull the plug myself. “Eleven o’clock. I will be at that hospital.”

“Fine. Fine. Happy now? You don’t have to make a scene about everything.” Dante grabs the bag and follows us out. My parents and my brother are already downstairs, pale, ready, watching the clock. My father takes one look at me and his face drops. “Why are you still here? Move.” We almost make it to the door. Bianca touches her hair and freezes. “I forgot to curl it.” She looks genuinely distressed, like this is a real problem. “Just a few more minutes. I’ll be so quick.” My mother keeps her voice careful. “Why don’t you stay and get ready? We’ll take Elena ahead. You can meet us there.” Bianca is already plugging in the curling iron. “No, I want to be there from the start. I’m the godmother. I have to be first to hold her.” She catches my eye in the mirror and smiles. “Elena won’t mind. Right?” The pain is constant now. Not waves. Just pressure, building and not letting go. “Elena minds.” My brother’s voice cuts across the room. “Get in the car or stay home.” Bianca’s hand stills on the curling iron. Her lip wobbles. “Why are you yelling at me? I’m trying. You think I wanted this to happen today?” Her voice climbs. “I didn’t even get to prep properly. I’m not the bad guy here.” My mother stops trying. She takes my arm and steers me toward the elevator. My brother and father run ahead to pull the car around. Dante walks back into the living room. “Take your time. Don’t burn yourself.” My mother turns and looks at him. Long and slow. The kind of look that doesn’t need words. I lean against the wall and breathe. Mia kicks. Hard. Desperate. Like she knows. Another contraction folds me in half. Dante comes over and pushes me back down onto the sofa. “Stop performing. I know what you’re doing. You want me to drop everything and prove you come first.” His voice drops, almost soft. “Bianca’s almost done. Five more minutes.” I let the contraction pass. “The day we were supposed to make it official — you made us wait for her. She overslept. The window closed. We are still not legally bound, Dante.” “Our wedding — she showed up hungover and made us miss the whole window.” “And today.” I look at him. “So I’m asking you one time. Do you choose me and Mia? Or do we wait for Bianca?” His jaw locks. “You’re using our baby to score points?” Bianca gasps from across the room, one hand over her mouth. “Wow, Elena. I had no idea you kept score like that.” She sets down the curling iron and picks up a makeup brush. “Honestly, I feel bad. I’ll just finish my face real quick — two minutes — and we go. Deal?” I watch her. She said just a wash. Then a dry. Then a curl. Now foundation. I know this routine. Foundation. Liner. Then she’ll want a different outfit. We’ll be here another hour. It’s 10:40. Fresh fluid soaks through the pad the midwife gave me. It’s streaked with red. I stop looking at them. I bite down on my lip. I don’t make a sound. “Take your time,” I say quietly. “I’m done waiting.”

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The fifth time Julian missed our wedding, my best friend Mia sent me a message. Evie, I’m so sorry. Something urgent came up at the firm. I can’t make it as your maid of honor today. Next time, I promise! I was about to reply when a notification lit up my screen. Sunrise, cold air, and you. Perfect. We really are two romantic lunatics! The girl beaming in the photo was Mia. And the tall figure with his arm around her shoulders—that was unmistakably Julian. My fingers tightened around the skirt of my dress as I scrolled down through the account. So this was the truth—every day they’d left me behind—my birthday, my mother’s funeral, those last four weddings—they’d been together the whole time. Seven years of love with Julian. Ten years of friendship with Mia. And what it had bought me were five abandoned weddings, and a betrayal that had lasted for years. In that moment, something inside me went quiet and final. Under her post, I typed one line. Truly romantic. The wedding and the groom—they’re all yours. …… The post vanished almost instantly. The account went blank a second later. Mia’s messages came one after another. Evie, I can explain. It’s really not what you think. Please don’t do this. A moment later, Julian sent a message too. Evie, calm down. My fault for not telling you sooner. We really are working. Don’t overthink it. We’ll talk when I get back. We really are working. We’ll talk when I get back. A lie I’d heard countless times. I swiped their messages away, one by one. Explanations didn’t matter anymore. Soon, I’d be gone. I opened another thread and calmly typed a message. In seven days, I’ll bring the research portfolio you wanted and join your company in New York. Ethan Shaw replied almost immediately. I’ll be waiting. I stood, took off my veil, and looked around at the wedding venue we’d put together. My eyes stung. I could still hear Mia laughing the day she helped me decorate it. “God, Julian’s getting such a bargain. He gets to marry someone as beautiful as you. If I were a man, I’d have married you long before he ever got the chance.” Back then, she’d helped me arrange the venue and gone with me to try on gowns. In the end, she was the reason I’d been abandoned at the altar. Five times. Just then, the wedding planner walked over. “Ms. Hart, the ceremony time has passed. Should we reschedule, the same as before?” My nails dug into my palm. “No,” I said. “There won’t be a next time.” She hesitated. “Ms. Hart, you purchased our annual planning package. The fee is nonrefundable if you don’t hold the wedding. Are you sure you don’t want to think it over?” “You and Mr. Foster have been together for eight years. Whatever the problem is, I’m sure it can be worked out.” I lifted my right hand and looked at the cheap ring on my middle finger. Julian had told me once: “Evie, I don’t have much right now. But when I do, I’ll buy you the most beautiful diamond in the world.” But I’d seen the diamond he’d given Mia on her private account. A Cartier. Two hundred thousand dollars. He’d never given me anything close. Knockoff bracelets from street stalls. Discounted perfume. Cheap substitutes. Those were the gifts I’d gotten in exchange for eight years. I pulled the ring off and dropped it into the trash can by my feet. “The problem is him,” I said. “So I’m solving the problem by removing him.” The pale mark it left behind was all that remained of what we’d once been. Seeing how firm I was, the planner stopped trying to change my mind. I went back to my apartment and sank onto the couch. My chest felt sliced open, and the pain made it hard to breathe. At three in the morning, the front door swung open. Julian walked in, still wearing the matching hiking jacket from Mia’s post. A week earlier, Mia had asked me if I thought that jacket looked nice. Back then, I’d thought she meant to give me one. I’d stupidly said, “If we each wore one, we’d look great together.” She refused, smiling as she hooked her arm around my shoulder. “You’re not in great shape, Evie. You could never hike. I’ll just switch between the two.” I believed her. But it turned out Julian had given it to her. Two thousand dollars each. A famous couples’ brand. Julian saw me in the dim light, and his voice came out tired. “Mia was so upset she made me push work back and come home.” “Evie, what are you overthinking now? Can’t you give us a moment of peace?” I stood. “You had a business emergency on a mountaintop? Or do you think I’m stupid enough to keep pretending after ninety-nine flirty posts between the two of you?” Julian looked away. His voice softened as he reached for my wrist. “Evie, I went hiking with her because I didn’t want her going alone. The business trip was real. Stop being unreasonable.” The dull ache in my chest made it hard to breathe. I pulled my wrist free and looked into his eyes. “When I was seventeen and three thugs chased me for three blocks and I nearly died, you were working late. You told me not to make a scene. And now you’re telling me you were worried she wouldn’t be safe on a hike?” I shook my head and gave a bitter smile. “Julian Foster. Let’s break up.”

He froze for a second. Then he laughed, half-dismissive. “Evie, quit it.” “Mia’s your best friend. Isn’t it perfectly normal for me to look out for her when you’re not around?” “We kept it from you because you’re too jealous. If you’re really that worked up about it, next time I’ll bring you on the trip. Happy?” He reached out, as if to ruffle my hair the way you’d humor a child. I stepped aside, looked him in the eye, and said, word by word: “Julian. I’m serious. We’re breaking up.” The smile on his face slowly froze over. His eyes turned cold. He let out a low, cold laugh. “Evelyn. You’re breaking up with me over something as stupid as me going hiking with Mia? Calling off the wedding?” “Your mother’s dead. Your father’s a drunk. With a family like yours, who else is going to marry you besides me? Or are you planning to grow old alone?” I stared at him in disbelief. My eyes burned. My lips trembled. When I was seventeen and my father nearly beat me to death in a drunken rage, Julian had stepped in front of me and taken the hit. He’d once promised: “As long as I’m here, no one hurts you.” The day my mother died, I sobbed until I couldn’t breathe in front of her headstone. He’d held me then, too. “I’m sorry I’m late, Evie. I’ll love you the way she did.” Now the same man was using my dead mother and my broken family as weapons to cut me. He saw my body stiffen and reached for my hand again. “I’m sorry. I was angry. I didn’t mean it.” I shook him off and forced my voice to steady. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Julian. I’m leaving—” Before I could finish, a slender figure rushed through the door. Julian dropped my hand instantly. Mia looked at him first, and only afterward turned to me, eyes shining with tears. “Evie, thank God you’re okay. I was so scared you’d do something stupid, so I rushed back.” “From the day you introduced me and Julian, the three of us have always been closest friends, right? Those posts were just friendship stuff.” “I hid that account from you because I didn’t want you overthinking.” When I stayed silent, she gave a small, careful laugh. “You don’t actually believe that whole ‘watch out for your best friend around your man’ thing, do you? That’s absurd. How could I possibly steal Julian from you?” Right. We were supposed to be closest friends. When we were kids, Mia and I had lived in the same run-down neighborhood, and she often had nothing hot to eat. I used to steal bread from home to bring her. I took my father’s beatings for it. She’d looked at the bruises on my body and cried. “Evie, thank you for being my friend. I’ll spend my whole life making it up to you.” I’d put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “From now on, I’ve got you.” But from the day I introduced her to Julian, she began to change. I was quietly pushed out of their world. When we went shopping, I always trailed behind them. When we ordered food, no one asked what I wanted. Even when a storm forced them to change our flight during a trip, no one bothered to tell me. And afterward, they’d always brush it off. “Evie, don’t be silly. We can’t pay attention to you every second. If something’s bothering you, just say so.” I had said so. Had anyone ever listened? “Whatever. I’m done with both of you.” My voice was soft, but Mia wouldn’t let it go. Her face crumpled into a look of hurt and grievance. Tears fell onto my palm. Once, I would’ve felt sorry for her—comforted her gently, taken her out, bought her whatever she wanted, done anything to make her happy. Not anymore. Mia’s voice trembled now, every word a small blade. “It’s my fault the wedding didn’t happen today. Let’s do it tomorrow. I’ll be there, I promise. Please don’t be angry.” I was done. Utterly. I threw her hand off, hard. “Enough! Tomorrow is the anniversary of my mother’s death!” She stumbled back two steps, staring at me, stunned, tears sliding down one after another. “Evie, I just forgot for a second—” Before she could finish, Julian shoved me aside and pulled her behind him. I slammed back into the shelf. The framed photo on the shelf toppled off. The glass shattered, and a flying shard sliced across my calf, drawing blood. Julian glanced at me once and said impatiently: “We’re busy. Forgetting is normal. Not everyone gets to sit around like you do. Was it really worth going on and on about this?” “Evelyn Hart, you look like a shrew. You want this wedding so badly you’ve lost your mind.” Julian stood right in front of me. But he felt very far away. “I—” Before I could speak, Mia threw out one line and pushed past him toward the door. “Fine. From start to finish, this is my fault. I’ll go. Don’t fight because of me!” Julian took a step after her, then stopped. He turned back to me.

“Bandage the cut on your leg first,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll go find her. It isn’t safe for her to be alone this late. You should calm down.” Something in my chest gave a dull thud. “Go, Julian. I’ll sell this apartment. You don’t need to come back.” I was calm. But anger flared in his eyes. “Evelyn, what the hell is wrong with you? I told you it isn’t what you think. What more do you want?” I wasn’t losing my mind. I just didn’t love him anymore. “I don’t want anything. This apartment was where we were supposed to live after the wedding. We’re broken up now. Why wouldn’t I sell it?” “You’re always so worried about her safety. Now you can move in with her and protect her every second of the day. Isn’t that what you want?” My calm and my acceptance came across as provocation to him. “Keep this up. I’ll wait and watch you come crawling back begging me to marry you.” He was furious. “You’re completely unreasonable.” “That won’t happen,” I said. “I’m leaving.” “Fine. If you’re getting the hell out this time, get out for good. I’m not in the mood to come looking.” Bang. The door slammed shut. I looked at his retreating back and felt nothing. In the past, whenever we fought, I’d deliberately run away from home. Really, I’d only hide near the apartment, because I knew he’d always come find me. Seven years of love. Seven years of fighting. But somewhere along the way, that stopped working. And it turned into this— “I’m already exhausted from work. Can you stop making trouble?” “Why can’t you be more like Mia? She can talk cases with me. She can travel with me for work. What can you do besides fight?” I bent down and picked up the broken glass with my bare hands. The photo had split along the frame—I was on the outside, and their half was still intact. I didn’t look at it again. I dropped the photo and the shards into the trash. The next day, I packed my things into a suitcase, carried a cardboard box out to the backyard, and set it on fire. The flames flickered in my eyes. Eight years of love. Ten years of friendship. All of it, over. Julian had just come back and happened to see it. He looked at the things burning in the pit, panic crossing his face. He tried to reach in and pull them out with his bare hands, but it was too late. His eyes reddened as he grabbed my arm. “Why would you burn them? Weren’t these your most precious things?” “They used to be. Not anymore.” The nine hundred and ninety-nine paper cranes Mia had folded to pray for my exam scores. The bracelet she’d bought me with her first paycheck. The ninety-nine love letters Julian had written me. The handmade ceramic ornament we’d made together. Once the love was gone, they were no different from trash by the roadside. Julian stared at me, trying to find some trace of change on my face. He found nothing. He let go, awkwardly. “Evie, you’re doing all this because you want an explanation, right?” “Fine. Everything I did with Mia was something friends do. You think we wronged you, but we never crossed a line.” A tear slid down my cheek. I hadn’t meant to cry. It just struck me as absurd. Did betrayal have to involve sex? No. Emotional betrayal was betrayal too. When we watched the snow together, he photographed it, turned away, and sent the picture to Mia. When we went to Disneyland and bought plush toys, he didn’t think about what I liked. He picked up another one and paid for it because he thought Mia would like it. His fiancée was standing right beside him, but the only one in his heart was Mia. “Enough,” I said. “You don’t need to explain. I’m leaving anyway. It doesn’t matter.” My phone screen was still lit on the patio table, showing the New York flight confirmation. Julian caught a glimpse of it and frowned. “You’re going to New York for work? Then we’ll talk about the next wedding date when you get back.” “I promise I won’t miss it this time. And stop using a breakup to threaten me.” He didn’t ask any further. I didn’t explain again. I just looked at him quietly. “What if I don’t come back?”

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After we got back together, Adrian Moretti stopped liking my Instagram posts. Because six months ago, I caught him cheating with my best friend Lily at a hotel. And I slit my wrists on the top floor of the Moretti Group building, making enough of a scene that the entire family found out. After that, even our mutual friends stopped paying attention to my posts. But my wedding to Adrian was getting close. I told myself it was just a small, meaningless change. Until a notification popped up on my phone screen. It was Lily’s X account. She was getting married. Her page was filled with wedding preparations. But under every single post, a very familiar profile picture had left a like. Adrian. The comments were full of faces I recognized too. “Ten years of love finally coming to fruition. Adrian, wishing you and your bride happiness forever!” “Adrian liked this diamond-studded wedding dress? He actually picked this one, haha, he really does know women.” “The venue’s already booked? We’ll definitely be there!” So that was it. People had stopped caring about my posts not because they were busy. They were all busy caring about Lily’s destination wedding. In that moment, I finally understood. Adrian hadn’t betrayed their world. I was the outsider who’d barged in. The one who should have left was never Lily. It was me. I kept scrolling through Lily’s page. Her wedding to Adrian was in Bali. My finger froze on the screen. I stared at their engagement photo, the two of them locked in a kiss, and all that was left on my lips was silence. That was the place I’d begged Adrian about for three years. I’d told him that if we ever got married, Bali was where I wanted it most. But Adrian turned me down every time. He said Moretti family weddings had to follow the rules. The ceremony could only be held locally. Moretti wasn’t an ordinary name. Every step had to be approved by the Don. That was the answer he gave me three years ago. But Lily’s engagement post was dated four years ago. So it wasn’t that he couldn’t say yes. He just hadn’t said yes to me. Even before Adrian and I were together, he and Lily were already engaged in Bali. It was so absurd I almost laughed. Because Lily wasn’t the other woman. I was. I sat in silence for a while, then kept scrolling through her posts. The earliest one went back over a decade. It was a childhood photo of the two of them together. A young Adrian had his arm around Lily, who was beaming with joy. Beneath the photo was a single line. “From childhood to forever, it’s always been you.” My friendship with Lily, over a decade of it, shattered in that moment. My chest felt tight, and nothing made sense anymore. Adrian was someone Lily had introduced to me. When Adrian and I got together, it was Lily who’d quietly pushed us toward each other behind the scenes. But now I knew they’d been engaged the whole time. So why? Why would she do this? I couldn’t find the answer anywhere in her posts. I stared at her grayed-out contact photo in my phone, full of questions, but all I could do was sit in silence. After I found out about them six months ago, Lily and I had a massive falling out and deleted each other’s contact information. The front door lock clicked. I turned off my phone and quietly walked out. Adrian was home from work. He came through the door in the black overcoat he always wore. On the shoe cabinet sat a small cake he’d brought me. He smiled when he saw me. “You actually came out to greet me today?” I didn’t give him the cold shoulder like I usually did. I walked up to him gently and took his coat. “I just worked through a few things in my head.” “Is that right? Ready to let me back in?” He stepped quickly behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. His breath was warm against my ear, making it tingle. He murmured with a smile, “Not going to answer? What are you thinking about? Emma, we’re getting married soon. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? You should be happy. I brought your favorite cake. Want to try it?” The news that he was simultaneously planning an overseas wedding with Lily flashed through my mind. I gently pushed him away. As confusion slowly crept into his eyes, I turned to face him. “Did they say they’d come?” “Who?” “Our friends. And your parents.” “Emma, don’t put me in this position.” His tone turned uncomfortable. “I asked. But last time you… lost control, you lashed out at them. They’re not ready to be around you just yet.” “As for my parents, you know how they feel. They never approved of me marrying you. They want me to find a woman with the right background, someone who can hold the family alliance together. So we can only keep the wedding low-key, let alone…” “Adrian.” I said his name and cut him off. He frowned at me. I didn’t break down and make a scene the way I always did when this topic came up. I just wrapped my arms around him, gently. Around this man I’d loved for four years. His body went rigid, as if caught off guard. He seemed almost uncomfortable with my tenderness. “Emma?” Before he could react further, I let go and steadied myself. Then I said softly: “Let’s cancel the wedding.”

“Cancel?” Adrian’s eyes filled with disbelief, though his voice dropped instantly. He looked at me, barely containing his anger. “Why? I need a reasonable explanation. You were the one who wanted to marry me no matter what, and now you’re the one saying cancel out of nowhere?” I lowered my eyes. Silent. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to explain. I just didn’t know how. Was I supposed to tell him I already knew about him and Lily? That they were the real engaged couple. That our friends weren’t skipping my wedding because they had a problem with me, but because they were attending his wedding with Lily. Before I knew the truth, I had made scenes over the way everyone froze me out. To be precise, before and after the reconciliation, I’d been making scenes the whole time. Because it wasn’t fair. Everyone was hiding his relationship with Lily from me. And even now, I was still the only one kept in the dark. But those unanswerable questions were never going to be resolved. Being deceived was humiliating. Being hysterical was humiliating. So I gave up. “Back then, my mother had just died. I needed someone. When I saw you fly all that way to help me handle her funeral, I begged you to stay. I wanted to use marriage to hold on to you.” “Even when you betrayed me, I could forgive you and take you back. But now I’ve calmed down. So there’s no need anymore.” For a split second, Adrian’s expression was pure disbelief. He hadn’t expected me to say all that so calmly. Back then, I was reeling from a breakup and had just lost the only family I had left in this world. Two devastations, piled on top of each other. Even now, I rarely left the bedroom. The anger in his eyes slowly faded. Before long, something like tenderness surfaced in them. “Emma, we can’t stop death from coming. But you still have me. I’ll always be here from now on. You don’t need to talk like this.” I really wanted to believe him. I even wished I’d never learned the truth. Then I could have kept fooling myself. Tears spilled out before I could stop them, landing on his arm. He startled and quickly grabbed a tissue to wipe my face. “Did I say something wrong? Emma, don’t cry. You have me. I’m right here.” One last shred of hope surfaced inside me. “Since no one’s coming to our wedding, forget the ceremony. Just come to the city clerk’s office with me tomorrow and sign the papers. Please?” Lily’s wedding was half a month before mine. If Adrian registered with me first, he couldn’t legally marry Lily. No matter what he was planning, as long as he was willing to register with me first, it would mean he was staying. Even if he lied to me for the rest of my life, I’d accept it. But all he did was move his lips, his voice stumbling. “I… Emma, you know how it is. I have meetings with clients. The company’s been swamped. Lily went abroad, you’ve been resting at home. The three of us used to hold the company together, and now it’s just me. I can’t step away right now.” He had all the reasons—work, duty, family. Just none that made me want to stay. I didn’t understand why he’d agreed to marry me while secretly continuing things with Lily. The light in my eyes went out. I stopped asking. I just nodded. “Yeah. I understand.” Adrian caught the defeat in my tone. His body went stiff, and he looked almost lost. Then his phone rang from his pocket. He seized on it like a lifeline, walking quickly to the balcony to take the call, glancing back at me. But I could see his screen before it went dark. The caller was Lily. This wasn’t the first time they’d been back in contact. When he begged me to take him back, he’d sworn up and down that he and Lily would never speak again. But not only had they never stopped—they were planning a wedding. I walked quietly back to the bedroom, crawled under the cold covers, and canceled tomorrow’s wedding photo shoot with Adrian. Then I booked a random flight.

The next morning, I was woken up by a call from customer service. The woman on the line asked me: “Ms. Bellini, may I ask why you’re canceling the shoot?” “We’ve already reserved the venue and wardrobe. Don Moretti personally confirmed every design detail.” “If you cancel now, we won’t be able to refund the deposit.” My head was pounding. I felt groggy and dazed. I answered, my voice hoarse: “Then don’t.” “Ms. Bellini? That’s fifty thousand dollars. Our team is top-tier. Don Moretti waited a long time to book…” “I said don’t bother.” A pause on the other end. Then, finally: “Understood.” “We’ll notify Don Moretti that the wedding shoot has been canceled.” I hung up. I found that Adrian had made me breakfast. But it had gone completely cold. I wasn’t feeling well, so I heated it up and ate it. Easier than making something else. Then Adrian texted me. “Emma, I got the notification that you canceled the shoot.” Before I could respond, he sent another message, sounding almost relieved. “Looks like you saw the note I left on the wall by the dining table. Thanks for understanding. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I turned and looked at the note stuck to the wall beside the table. “Overseas business hit a snag. Today’s engagement shoot needs to be canceled.” I didn’t bother explaining. Once my phone connected to the overseas network, I saw that Lily had posted something new. Their wedding had been moved up. That was the real reason Adrian had rushed abroad. The post showed a beautiful seaside restaurant. I could see Adrian’s parents. I could see all the friends we used to share. Moretti family bodyguards stood not far away, like a wall of black, shutting out the rest of the world. Adrian and Lily sat at the table, fingers laced together. It looked like a wonderful time. It hit me suddenly that none of these people had really changed. I was the only one who’d been left behind. In the empty apartment, I chewed on the cold breakfast. My phone chimed with a booking confirmation. Destination: New Zealand. Far away. Quiet. I’d never been. But it seemed like the right place for me. I started packing. Looking around the apartment we’d shared for three years, my vision blurred for a moment. I remembered when the three of us first started the security company and sat around that dining table with friends, drinking and making vows. Back then, we said we’d make it a legitimate business, break free from the family shadows, and finally stand on our own. They’d laughed and joked that when we made it big, they’d definitely come drink at my wedding to Adrian. Now the place was empty. No one left. Every item I packed dredged up an old memory. Red wine, champagne, mixtapes, videos of us dancing. They documented so many anniversaries Adrian and I had celebrated in this home. Looking back, yes, it had been sweet. But sweet was all it ever was. I threw it all in the trash and turned to pack my clothes. It took a long time. Most of it I threw away. What actually made it into the suitcase was barely anything. Adrian called me at some point. I didn’t pick up. It rang a few more times, then he stopped calling and just sent me a message. A photo and an update. In the photo, he was meeting with some foreign clients. The message read: “Just landed. Having dinner.” Thinking this might be the last message I’d ever send him, I kept things civil. I took a photo of my packed bags and sent it to him. His reply came fast. “What are you packing for?” “I’m leaving.” “…” He went quiet for a moment, then explained: “Emma, canceling the photo shoot doesn’t mean canceling our wedding.” “Don’t be upset. I really did run into some trouble, but I’ll be back soon. I’ve got a surprise for you. The wedding’s still on. Don’t do this.” I didn’t reply. This wasn’t some act I was putting on over a canceled photo shoot to get his attention. I was just tired. I knew Adrian’s habits. His surprises were never put together the same day. He’d always hide a gift somewhere in the house weeks, sometimes a full month, in advance, and wait for me to stumble across it without saying a word. He said it kept the anticipation alive for weeks. I went to the spot where he usually hid things. In an old trunk on the second level of the attic, I found a gold bracelet I’d once wanted badly. The style and weight were both perfect. This must have been the surprise he mentioned. But beside it, I found a diary he’d never once told me about. It was filled with my mother’s handwriting. I opened it. The first page had a single line. “Emma, this is the truth your mother is leaving for you.”

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