Category: English

My mother was the the heroine of a tragic novel. When she died, the four men who’d been at her side found me alive inside her. That’s how I ended up with four fathers. One of them became a don—Don Julian Ashford, a man whose name makes men straighten their collars. One of them ran the muscle and the private army—General Marcus Ashford. One of a medical genius who could cheat death—Dr. Silas Ashford. The last was the chief enforcer, a martial arts master—Sir Cedric Ashford. They spoiled me like a princess. Every girl in the Millbrook city envied me. Until the year I turned eighteen. That was when they found her. Jade Sinclair came back—the daughter of their lost love. From that day, my four fathers became strangers. Jade said I insulted her; Don Father had my mouth sewn shut and starved me for three days. Jade said I poisoned her. Doctor Father threw me into the Pit—his underground chamber of venomous insects. The venomous insects chewed through my face and ate one of my eyes. When Jade claimed I hired men to assault her, Sir Father dragged me by the collar to the family camp—forced me into sexual servitude. Three years. I went from fighting to accepting. One night, my door was opened again. I started taking off my clothes like I always did. Then I heard someone say, “Ivy. Do you want to go back to your mother?” …….. I snapped my head up. There was no one in the room. At the same time, a voice appeared in my head again. It said it was my mother’s System. That she had left in a hurry years ago and never knew I survived. Now she knew, and she wants to bring me home. If this body dies, I can see my mother. Then *The System* said, “Ivy, your mother has been so worried since she learned you exist. Would you be willing—” I didn’t let it finish. I grabbed a blade and pressed it to my throat without hesitation. Yes. Finally. My mother is alive! And soon I was going to see her. I was so happy I forgot to be afraid of death. But before I could cut, something slammed into my hand. The pain made me drop the blade. A foot stomped on it. “Ivy Lane. are you trying to kill yourself?” The familiar voice made me look up. “Sir Father.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. As expected, the man frowned at the name. “Don’t call me that. I cut ties with you long time ago.”

He was Sir Cedric Ashford. When I was little, a rival boss kidnapped me. Cedric climbed the enemy’s family on his knees, and took three stab wounds, six holes through his body, just to bring me back unharmed. After I was rescued, I cried at the sight of his wounds. He patted my head and said the cuts meant nothing to him. He said when he saw me cry, he hurt with it. He used to love me the most. Nut that love disappeared four years ago, when General Father brought Jade back from the Mafia war. I always knew my four fathers shared a lost love. But I didn’t know it wasn’t my mother. It was Jade’s mother. They were said to be the four sons of one of Millbrook City’s most feared mafia kings. Because the Rival Mafia Family feared of the boys would one day rise to power, their enemies sent mercenaries and killers to hunt them down. My mother, still a child then, hid the four boys and sent them to masters to train. After learning their skills, and with my mother’s help, they rose up and succeeded. Don Julian became the new mafia boss in the Millbrook City and cleared their group name. People said my mother and Don Julian had been in love. But when she was about to marry him, Jade’s mother appeared. The moment she arrived, she drew the four men’s attention. After that, People also said my mother very jealous, she often hurt Jade’s mother; and later, my mother killed herself out of jealousy. After my mother’s death, Jade’s mother vanished. Only when Jade returned did the fathers learn that Jade’s mother had left because she felt guilty over my mother’s death. To be honest, I don’t believe those stories. My instinct tells me my mother was not the villain; Jade’s mother was. But the fathers don’t trust my instinct. They even think my mother and I are the same, fighting for their attention. So every time Jade and I clashed, they sided with her. Soon I went from the pampered little princess to a whore to a thousand men. Sir Cedric picked up the blade and glanced at the wound on my throat. Then his wrist turned. The blade came straight for me. I stumbled back two steps on reflex. The flash of steel passed. A new cut appeared on my neck. Sir Cedric sneered, “If you want to die that badly, what are you hiding from?” “You’re just like your mother—cheap, always hurting yourself to get attention.” “She was smarter than you, at least. She always did it in front of all four of us. You pick this kind of miserable place. You’ve really lost your mind.”

I am about to explain that I am not acting. But then I remember—no one ever believed my explanations before. I bow my head. “You’re right, Sir Cedric. May I ask why you bothered to come all the way here? Was it to watch me put on a show?” Cedric freezes for a moment. “Don’t flatter yourself. Today is Jade’s birthday. She said she’s willing to forgive you and make peace. I am here to take you to see her.” Three days ago, I heard that Don Julian would name Jade Princess of Mafia and there’d be a parade today. I’m a year older than her; that title is the one Don Julian gave me when I was ten. If this were before, if someone tried to take what was mine, I would have made a scene. No one would have had a good time. Now I just tell Sir Cedric without expression, “I don’t want to go.” Cedric pauses, then says, “That’s not up to you.” He grabbed me by the arm and hauled me out. He takes me back to his place to cleaned me up, dressed me, and then rushed me toward the toward the manor. Sitting in the carriage, Cedric talks nonstop in my ear. He tells me to kneel before Jade. Not to make her angry again. My heart aches. I watch the carriage go faster and faster. The thought of seeing my mother grows stronger and stronger in my mind. Without thinking, I lift the curtain and jump out. I haven’t hit the ground before someone gasps. I think at that speed I’ll surely die. But the pain I expect never comes. Instead, I fall into a warm embrace. Cedric catches me. We roll on the ground twice. His furious voice explodes above my head. “Ivy, are you insane?” I look at him. He’s bleeding—bright red across his face where my head struck him. I reach up to wipe it off. His face goes hard. “Can you stop playing these games? You want to see if I care? I’ll tell you—me saving you means nothing. I’d save a stranger the same way. If I’d known you were planning this, I wouldn’t have jumped. ” “From now on, if you want to die, go ahead. I won’t stop you.” My hand freezes in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the moat not far away. I smile bitterly. “All right, Sir Cedric. Remember what you said.” Before he can react, I spring up and, without looking back, hurl myself into the water. He had nearly drowned as a child. Water was his one fear. He said those cruel things knowing he might not jump in after me. So when the freezing water rushed into my lungs, I felt nothing but relief. Finally—I am going to see my mother.

I don’t know how much time passes. Then the darkness fades. I sit up eagerly, ready to find my mother—but someone slaps me across the face. I fall to the ground. “Bitch!” Doctor Father’s voice snarls above me. His face is twisted with anger. “All we asked was for you to do some light work at the camp. And the moment you see your Sir Father, you put on this act? Do you know he almost drowned because of you?” Of all four fathers, Doctor Father and I were the closest. The others were too busy, so almost he raised me. He taught me to read, to write, to recognize herbs and practice medicine. He was always gentle. No matter how badly I messed up, he guided me patiently. He never once punished me. But the day Jade came back, he hit me for the first time. Jade had brushed against one of his venomous insects and claimed I’d planted it on her. He took a whip to my back. “This is my fault for not teaching you better—treating lives like a joke?,” he said. Later, when Jade said I poisoned her again, Doctor Father fed me a pill that attracted insects and threw me into the Pit. Tens of thousands of bugs crawled into my body. they ate through my flesh and took one of my eyes. He tried to save me afterward, but I still lost one eye. I don’t say anything for now. He thinks my silence means I agree. His anger rises. He raises his hand to hit me again. Sir Father stops him. “Silas, calm down. Today is Jade’s enfeoffment ceremony as Princess of Mafia. Ivy can’t handle it. She’s already tried to kill herself three times in front of me.” I glance at Sir Father. He has changed his clothes. His wounds are bandaged. But his face is pale. I remember what Doctor Father said: “he almost drowned because of you.” He saved me again. Sir Father can’t swim. He must have used every bit of strength to pull me out. Doctor Father snorts. “Cedric, you were fooled. She’s used this stunt before—just to get attention.” Sir Father hesitates. Then, as if relieved, he says, “So that’s it.” Doctor Father looks at me again. “Ivy, today is Jade’s birthday. Make a scene in front of us if you must, but don’t drag it up to the another fathers—you know how they are…” Before he can finish, i have already lunged toward the medical case behind him. I have lived with Doctor Father long enough to know exactly where he keeps the poisons. I open the case. Find the deadliest one and swallowed it before anyone could stop me. Doctor Father’s face goes white.

The poison is bitter. But I am happy. Doctor Father once told me this poison has no antidote. If I take it, I will die. Doctor Father only freezes for a few seconds. Then he shoves his fingers into my mouth. “You’re insane. Do you know what that is?” He wrenched my jaw open and shoved his fingers down my throat. His large hand patted my back forcefully. Black blood trickled out of my mouth. He watches. Waits. When the blood running from me fades from black to red, Doctor Father lets out a breath. “Ivy, it was just a title. Was it worth dying over?” Sir Father looks shaken too. Now he believes I really want to die. His voice trembles. “Ivy, don’t do anything stupid. Yesterday the four of us talked to Jade. She agreed to forgive you. After today, you can come back to the mansion. Julian will make you the anther Princess of Mafia. Just stop trying to die. We’ll go back to how things used to be. Okay?” Hearing that, tears spill from my eyes. They think I’m moved. Then I drop to my knees in front of them. “Doctor Father. Sir Father. Please. Just let me die.” Doctor Father explodes with rage. “Ivy, didn’t you hear what we said—” “I heard.” There is no point hiding it anymore. “But I don’t want to go back to the house. I want to find my mother.” I tell them everything I heard in my head today. Their expressions grow more and more complicated. Finally, Doctor Father pulls me to my feet. “Ivy, listen to me. Your mother is really dead.” He tells me my mother jumped into a lake. Don Father pulled her out. Doctor Father used every skill he had and still couldn’t save her. After she died, the four of them cut me out of her belly. Then they stayed by her body for seven days and seven nights. They watched her rot. Watched her disappear from this world. Doctor Father says what I heard might be a hallucination from shock. He suggests I stay with him if I won’t return to the house—if I behave, he won’t let anyone hurt me again. I am about to shake my head when the sound of hooves slams through the courtyard. I am about to shake my head when the sound of hooves slams through the courtyard. Moments later Don Father and General Father rush in. frantic. “Silas, Cedric—have you seen Jade? She’s missing!”

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My best friend and I gave birth at the same time. I joke about setting the two kids up together. My husband’s face darkens instantly. He looks at me, dead serious. “They’re siblings. They can’t get married.” I freeze. I must’ve heard him wrong. Ethan smiles, light and easy, like he’s talking about the weather. “On our wedding night, after we were done, I drugged you. She covered your face with her bra, and we did it right next to you. All night long.” “That’s the night you both got pregnant.” “Funny how you two ended up in labor at the same time. Must be fate.” My mind goes blank. I slowly turn toward the next bed — Sienna, my best friend, fast asleep. When I was twenty, I took fifteen stab wounds to save her life. She told me she’d owe me forever. Ethan shifts, blocking my view. His tone is casual, almost bored. “Relax. Sienna won’t fight you for anything. We’ll all just live together. To the public, you’ll still be Mrs. Foster.” Every drop of blood in my body turns to ice. The System’s voice cuts through my head, flat and mechanical: **[Do you wish to abandon the mission to redeem the Villain and exit this world immediately?]** …… My eyes land on Sienna’s wrist. She’s wearing a rosary bracelet. The same one I got for Ethan when he was in that car accident, barely clinging to life. I spent hours on my knees at the chapel, praying he’d pull through. He never took it off. Not once. But when Sienna and I went into labor at the same time, he gave it to her without a second thought. Ethan quietly tucks her hand under the blanket, then turns to me. He wipes the tears off my cheek with his thumb. “You’re a mom now. Why are you still such a crybaby?” I slap his hand away. “Why? Why her? She had a boyfriend! And you just threw yourself at her like some desperate side piece — are you that pathetic?” Ethan shakes his hand out, then looks up at me, genuinely surprised. “You still think her so-called boyfriend is someone else?” Something amuses him. He actually laughs. “There were times you called me — and we were right in the middle of it.” “She’d be shaking all over, biting her lip, trying so hard not to make a sound. So damn hot.” He sighs, almost wistful. “Probably won’t get that thrill again.” I bite down on my lip so hard I taste blood. My throat closes up. I can’t get a word out. It takes forever before I manage to speak, my voice cracking. “You could’ve just told me the truth. I would’ve walked away!” If I’d known sooner, I could’ve left before it destroyed me. Ethan lets out a soft sigh. Something like pity flickers in his eyes. “Well — we did feel guilty about you.” “Remember when you got attacked trying to save Sienna? Beaten, violated until you lost the baby? I was hooking up with her in the car, right around the corner.” “She was freaking out. I had to calm her down. We got so caught up we forgot to call 911.” Something inside my skull snaps. That night. Sienna and I were walking home from a movie. We ran into those guys in the parking garage. I fought them off with everything I had so she could run. I was dead sure she’d get help for me. I held on, gritting my teeth, waiting. When I came to, I was in the hospital. Ethan was holding me, shaking, swearing he’d make them pay. And he did. But now, looking at how calm he is, how unbothered — I realize every bit of that was an act. If it weren’t for some random stranger passing by, I’d be dead. I grab the soup bowl from the nightstand and hurl it at him. It smashes on the floor. Soup splatters everywhere. He made that soup himself last night. He put peanuts in it — Sienna’s favorite. He forgot I’m allergic. The signs were always there. I just never wanted to see them. Ethan stands there, not moving. Soup drips from his hair. He looks pathetic. But he’s not angry. He actually lets out a long breath, like he’s relieved. “Hate me. Resent me. That’s fine. Just don’t blame Sienna. She cares about you so much. She just had a baby — she could get postpartum depression. Cut her some slack.” I dig my nails into my palms until I feel blood. It’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart. The stitches down below are screaming — a constant reminder that he knows damn well a new mother needs rest, needs peace. He just doesn’t give a damn. Not about me. The System’s voice returns, cold and flat: **[Do you wish to abandon the mission to redeem the Villain and exit this world immediately?]** **[If no choice is made within 24 hours, you forfeit and will remain in this world permanently.]** **[Countdown begins…]**

Tears pour down my face. I whip around toward Sienna and scream. “Sienna! How long are you gonna keep faking it? Does screwing my husband feel that good?” Sienna opens her eyes. Her face is ghost white. She won’t look at me. She grabs the pillow and hurls it at Ethan. “How could you tell her? How dare you do this to her?” “I told you I don’t need a title! I was gonna disappear after the baby!” Ethan rushes over and pulls her into his arms, holding on tight. His voice shakes. “I can’t let you go. That’s why I had to come clean. Please, Sienna. Don’t leave me.” “This is all on me. Stay still — you’ll rip your stitches.” Those exact words. He used to say them to me. His mom died when he was little. His dad was never home. All he had was the nanny. And the nanny was a monster. She’d beat him when nobody was looking. She almost beat him to death once. I broke into his house and pulled him out. That’s how I dragged him out of the dark. Later, the nanny came for revenge. She had me kidnapped. But Ethan wouldn’t let go of me. They beat him until he was covered in blood, and he still wouldn’t let go. The adults finally showed up. Got us both out. At the hospital, he held my hand so tight his knuckles went white, whispering over and over: “Don’t leave me, Lily.” Like I was the most precious thing in the world. That’s exactly how he’s holding her right now. Only I’m not the one in his arms anymore. I’ve thought about it before — what I’d do if we hit that seven-year itch. I always figured, worst case, I’d drag Sienna out, get blackout drunk for a few nights, cry it all out, then go right back to loving him. But why — why did it have to be her? Who am I supposed to ugly-cry with now? Sienna shoves Ethan off and stumbles over to my bed. Tears running down her face. “Lily, please. Don’t cry. I’ll leave tomorrow. You two can go back to the way it was.” My jaw aches from clenching. My heart is being ripped in two. Sienna used to come from money. Old money. When she was five, her whole family died in a wreck. She was the only one left. Relatives picked the estate clean. Then they dumped her in the system. She went through hell. When I met her, I begged my parents to take her in. Mom and Dad treated her like she was theirs. No difference. She cried over her first birthday cake at our house. I told her, laughing — everything I have, you get half. Half my snacks. Half my fun. Half my mom and dad. Never thought she’d want half my husband too. I grit my teeth. “Get out. I never wanna see you again. You’re nothing but a homewrecker.” The babies start screaming, spooked by the yelling. Their little faces are beet red. I scoop mine up and rock her, shushing. Tears hit the blanket before I can stop them. Sienna buries her face in her hands, choking on sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” Ethan picks up the other baby, jaw tight, barely holding it together. He rounds on me. “Sienna’s been covering for you this whole time. She couldn’t stand to hurt you. She was my fiancée from the start. You’re the one who came in between us.” I go rigid. Ethan did have a fiancée. But he told me himself — she died in a crash. The first time he and Sienna met in front of me, they acted like strangers. Even faked not being able to stand each other. More than once, I begged him to be nicer to her. For my sake. I was so damn proud of myself for smoothing things over between them. Turns out I was the idiot the whole time. What a goddamn joke. I laugh until the tears spill over. I grab Sienna’s wrist and rip the rosary bracelet off. Beads go flying, clattering across the floor. “This is mine. You don’t deserve it.” I pick up my baby and stand. My legs are trembling. Every step feels like walking on shattered glass, but I don’t stop. Not once. Behind me — Sienna’s wailing. Ethan cussing me out. The System chimes in: **[18 hours remaining. Please make your choice soon.]**

I drift down the hallway holding my baby, numb. Frozen from the inside out. I should hate Ethan for the betrayal. I should hate Sienna for the knife in my back. But what kills me most is losing them both at once. I pull out my phone. Open the photo album. Picture after picture. Memory after memory, hitting me like a freight train. Watching the sunrise at four a.m. with Ethan, standing on top of a mountain. Kissing in the lavender fields. Scuba diving in the Maldives. And in every single photo — Sienna’s in the background. What I thought was just the two of us — it was always three. And I never once noticed. I delete over ten thousand photos. I stare at the System panel floating in front of me and let out a bitter laugh. Honestly — what did Ethan even do wrong? He just doesn’t love me. That’s all it is. I hold my baby tighter. My vision blurs again. I’m so sorry, baby girl. I can’t take you with me. Just let me hold you a little bit longer. Ethan’s designer shoes step into view. I look up. He’s watching me, guilt and heartbreak all over his face. Next second, I’m in his arms. That familiar warmth. I break down. I hate myself, but some stupid, desperate part of me thinks — maybe he still cares. Even just a little. “I’m sorry, Lily. I lost my temper. Said stuff I didn’t mean.” “You gotta believe me — I never wanted to hurt you. I was just scared Sienna would take off with the baby.” “Don’t be like this. She hasn’t stopped crying since you walked out…” Sienna. Sienna. Always Sienna. That last little flicker of hope — he kills it himself. Every breath feels like swallowing glass. After a long silence, I cut him off. “Promise me one thing. Take care of the baby. No matter what.” Ethan blinks. Relief floods his face. He cups my cheeks, voice suddenly brighter. “Lily, I promise. I’ll take care of you. Take care of the baby. You just gave birth — look after yourself too…” His phone rings mid-sentence. He picks up. His entire face changes. “Don’t move — I’m coming!” He hangs up. The warmth is gone. His eyes are ice. “Sienna’s baby has a congenital heart defect. There’s no donor match. She was already losing it — and then you went and deleted every photo on Instagram. She thinks you’ll never forgive her. She’s on the roof. She’s about to jump. Are you happy now?” “Come with me. Now.” He grabs my arm and hauls me toward the stairwell. The stitches rip. Pain tears through me so hard I can’t breathe. Warm blood runs down my thighs. The hallway spins. I bite the inside of my cheek raw — just to stay standing. Up on the roof, Sienna’s standing on the wrong side of the railing. Wind whips through her hospital gown. She looks like she could vanish any second. She spots me. Something lights up in her eyes for half a second — then dies. Her face is wrecked with tears. “Lily, my baby’s dying. And you’re never gonna forgive me, are you?” “I have nothing. I have absolutely nothing left.” She sways at the edge. Before I can even open my mouth, Ethan’s drenched in a cold sweat. “Sienna, don’t. Lily knows she was wrong. She came here to say sorry.” I stare at Ethan in total disbelief. This is beyond insane. Sienna doesn’t buy it. Her eyes are glazed, somewhere far away. “You’d never forgive me. Not if you knew. Those men that night in the parking garage — I sent them. If you knew that, you’d want me dead.” Something inside me cracks wide open. I snap. I throw myself at her. Hands grab me from behind and yank me back. I spin around — Ethan. Eyes cold as stone. “She was young. She did it out of jealousy. She nearly killed herself over the guilt — more than once. If I hadn’t pulled her through all that, you’d never have seen her again.” I can’t breathe. He knew. He knew this whole goddamn time. I was drowning, and he just stood there watching. But Sienna — the one who threw me in — he felt sorry for her.

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My father-in-law rides home from the war with two women — a mother and her daughter — and announces they’ll be the new ladies of Ashworth Manor. The Earl of Ashworth, Richard, comes through the gates at midday. Behind him trail two figures on a single horse: a woman with a face that still turns heads, and a girl barely old enough to lace her own corset. They share the same dark eyes, the same careful smile. I stand behind Grace, my mother-in-law. My husband William stands across from me. His eyes land on the girl and stay there. He doesn’t blink. The great hall is packed. The air feels thick enough to chew. Richard hasn’t even removed his chainmail. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword. His voice scrapes like steel on stone. “Wife. This is Margery. She’ll be the new lady of this house.” He points to the older woman. Grace — the Countess of Ashworth, the woman who has run this estate for twenty years — doesn’t flinch. She steps forward and takes Margery’s hand like they’re old friends. “You must be exhausted from the road, sweetheart.” I watch the creases around Grace’s eyes. Every single one is arranged into the perfect shape of joy. Richard looks satisfied. He turns to William. “William. This is Agnes, Margery’s daughter. She’ll be your wife.” William’s face goes red. Not from shame. From excitement. His mouth opens — he nearly blurts out “I’ll do it” — but catches himself and swallows hard. He just nods. Hard. Nobody looks at me. I’m like one of the carvings on the pillars. There, but meaningless. Richard wants a new woman. William wants a new wife. This house is throwing two celebrations today. How festive. My nails dig into my palms inside my sleeves. I can’t feel the pain. Grace’s voice rises, bright and cheerful, the voice of a woman throwing a feast. “What wonderful news! The Earl and his heir, both blessed with new companions — the Lord has truly smiled on this family!” She waves the steward over. “Open the cellars. Bring up the wine we’ve been saving — the twenty-year vintage.” Then she turns and takes my hand. Her fingers are warm. Steady. “Clara, don’t just stand there. Go to the storeroom, take out the finest silks — the Flemish brocade, all of it — and have new gowns made for Lady Margery and Agnes. Spare nothing.” I look up and meet her eyes. They’re full of warmth, like the first sun of spring. But standing this close, all I feel is cold. I nod, numb. “Yes, Mother.” I turn toward the storeroom. The keys hang from my belt — a ring of brass keys, heavy enough to crush me. I pass William on my way out. I don’t exist to him. Every ounce of him is fixed on the girl called Agnes. She keeps her head down, cheeks flushed, stealing glances at him through her lashes. They already want each other. And me? What am I? I push open the heavy storeroom door. The smell of cedar and lavender hits me. Bolts of silk and brocade sit stacked in neat rows, gleaming faintly in the dim light. I stand there for a long time. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Cry? Scream? I don’t want to cry. I think I’ve already run out of tears. And screaming — what good would it do? Richard holds the title, the land, the power. William is next in line. They make the rules. My only purpose here has ever been to manage the household and be a quiet, obedient wife. Now he’s getting a new one. I run my hand over the cold silk. Flemish brocade, Italian velvet, each bolt worth more than my entire dowry. These are the finest fabrics in the county. Grace told me to take the best. I pull out a bolt of crimson brocade shot through with gold thread. It glitters in the shadows, stinging my eyes. I carry it out like I’m carrying a burning coal. The welcome feast fills the great hall. Loud. Bright. Suffocating. Richard and William sit at the head of the table. Margery and Agnes sit just below them, laughing, talking, glowing. Grace moves between the guests like a perfect hostess, pouring wine, serving food, smiling without pause. She looks genuinely happy. I set the silks aside and slip back to my seat. I don’t touch my food. Three cups of wine in, Richard starts talking. His tongue is loose, his voice too loud. He tells the story of how he found them — how Margery’s husband, one of his fellow soldiers, died in battle. How Agnes had no one to care for her. How giving her to William was an act of mercy. He speaks like he’s some kind of saint. William listens, nodding along, looking at Agnes with pity and desire mixing in his eyes. My stomach turns. I slip away from the table and walk back to my chambers. The courtyard is quiet. My two maids, Bess and Meg, stand under the eaves, their eyes rimmed red. They see me and open their mouths, then close them again. I wave them off and go inside. Everything in my room is exactly as I left it. Neat. Tidy. Our marriage certificate still sits under a stack of books on the desk, the red wax seal bright as blood. I sit down. I stare at nothing. I don’t know how long I sit there. The sky goes dark. The noise from the feast fades. Soft footsteps stop outside my door. It’s Bess. “My lady, it’s late. You should rest.” I don’t answer. Then — three knocks. Slow. Deliberate. That’s not how Bess knocks. My heart jumps. I stand. “Who’s there?” A voice, barely a whisper. Familiar. “Me.” Grace. I freeze, then cross the room and open the door. She stands in the corridor, still wearing the crimson gown she put on for the feast. But the smile is gone. Completely gone. In the moonlight her face is hard, her eyes sharp as a blade. She slips inside and shuts the door behind her. Slides the bolt. She doesn’t look at me. She goes to the window, tilts her head, listens. Nothing but the wind in the trees. “Mother, what — ” She turns, crosses the room in three steps, and grabs my wrist. Her grip is iron. It hurts. Her voice is low and fast. Half whisper, half command. “Clara. Pack your valuables. We’re leaving tonight.” —

My head goes blank. Like someone struck a bell inside my skull. “Leave?” I repeat the word like I’m chewing gravel. “Where?” “Away from here.” Grace’s eyes burn in the dark. “Somewhere they can’t reach us.” I stare at her. I cannot connect this woman — jaw set, eyes like flint — with the one who smiled her way through that feast just hours ago. “Why?” My voice comes out dry, cracked. “Don’t ask why.” Her tone shuts the door on the question. “This family has been rotten to the core for years. Today isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last. How long are you planning to wait? Until Agnes gives him an heir and they move you to some back room to rot?” Her words hit like a spike driven straight through my chest. I flinch. She’s right. What am I still hoping for? William’s guilt? Richard’s kindness? Grace lets go of my wrist and walks to my dressing table. She pulls open the drawer. She sweeps every brooch, earring, and bracelet into a cloth bundle she’s already prepared. Her hands move fast, not a second of hesitation. “Stop standing there.” She looks back at me. “Your dowry deed. Where is it? Everything valuable — land titles, shop leases, coin. Take it all. Leave nothing.” I snap awake. I rush to the bed, press a hidden panel in the headboard, and pull out a small oak box. My dowry deed. My mother put it in my hands the day I married. Every item, listed in her careful handwriting. Grace takes the box, opens it, scans the contents, and pulls out several sheets with the precision of a woman who knows exactly what she’s looking for. “The townhouse on South Street. The textile shop on West Lane.” She nods. “Good. These bring in rent.” She tucks the deeds inside her bodice. “The rest?” she asks. “Locked in the main storeroom.” “Foolish girl.” She mutters it under her breath, but there’s no venom in it. “You should never keep your things in a shared space. Never mind. Too late for that now.” She hands me the bundle of jewelry. “Go. Pack clothes — nothing fancy, pick things that are sturdy and won’t show dirt. And any ornaments, silverware, anything you can sell.” She pulls out a ring of keys from her own cloak. Her ring is twice the size of mine. Far more complex. “Mother, what are those?” “The household keys.” Her voice is flat. “I’ve managed this estate for twenty years. I know every shilling in this house better than Richard does. He runs his wars. I run the money. Tonight, I’m taking it all with me.” I stop breathing. I thought Grace just wanted to get us out. Away from the hurt. I didn’t realize she was planning to strip Ashworth Manor to the bone. “They’ll find out.” My voice shakes. “Find out?” Grace lets out a cold laugh. “By the time they find out, we’ll be a hundred miles away. I’ve spent twenty years building loyalty among every servant, every tradesman, every contact worth having. Richard thinks commanding soldiers makes him powerful. I’m about to teach him that running a household is harder than running an army.” She presses one of the keys into my palm. “This one opens the outer storeroom. His war spoils are in there — the gold, the silver — take it. The east wing has a hidden room full of Flemish tapestries and silver plate the family’s been hoarding for generations — take it. Under the west stables, there’s a cellar I spent three years digging in secret. That’s where the real money is. Not the kind that shows up in the ledgers. Take it.” I hold the cold key. My palm is slick with sweat. This is enormous. This is ripping Ashworth Manor up by its roots. “You afraid?” Grace tilts her head, studying me. I meet her eyes. I shake my head. Afraid? The moment William’s eyes landed on that girl, my heart died. And when your heart’s already dead, what’s left to fear? “No.” I say it, and I mean it. Grace’s face softens. Just barely. Like the first crack in winter ice. “Good girl.” She pats my shoulder. “Remember this. The only things a woman can count on are the money in her own hands, and another woman who’s been through the same hell. Men? They think they’re God’s gift. Let them float up there in the clouds. We’ll stay on the ground and live better than they ever could.” She straightens up. “Your maids. Can you trust them?” she asks. I nod. “Bess and Meg. They grew up with me.” “Bring them in. Tonight, if we pull this off, they come with us — set for life. If we fail, we all go down together. Let them choose.” I open the door. Bess and Meg are right outside, worry written all over their faces. I tell them everything. The two of them look at each other. Not one heartbeat of hesitation. They drop to their knees. “Wherever you go, my lady. We’re with you.” “Good.” Grace nods. “Bess — go to the outer courtyard. Find Holt, the steward. Give him this.” She hands over a worn silver pendant. “He’ll know what it means.” “Meg, you’re with me. Clara, stay here and pack everything you can carry. Move fast. We have two hours.” The night is thick and black. The whole manor is drowned in drunken sleep. Grace, me, and two maids — four women moving through the dark like mice, stripping the place clean. I open every chest and trunk. I find my mother’s gold coins, every piece she hid for me, and stuff them into a pouch strapped against my body. Then the clothes, the jewelry, anything worth a penny. I even glance at William’s prized ivory chess set in his study. And the mounted stag’s head above his desk — his first kill, his pride and joy. No. Too heavy. Let his precious Agnes dust those. I only want the money. Two hours later, Grace and Meg come back. Behind them, two silent, heavyset servants. Each one loaded down with bulging sacks. Grace looks tired, but her eyes are brighter than ever. “It’s done.” she says. “Holt has every cart and horse in this house lined up at the back gate. The rest of the servants have each been given a purse of silver and sent away. By morning, this manor will be an empty shell.” I look at her, and something close to awe rises in my chest. Every detail. Every angle. Covered. The beloved Countess. The woman everyone trusted and admired. Twenty years she played the perfect, dutiful wife. How many moves has she been hiding? “Let’s go.” One word from Grace, and we move — five women, loaded with bundles, slipping through the dark courtyard toward the back gate of Ashworth Manor. We don’t meet a single soul. The whole estate is as silent as a grave. —

The lane behind the back gate is pitch black. Can’t see a hand in front of your face. Holt — the steward who always has a pleasant word for everyone — stands at the far end like a stone tower. Silent. Three plain mule-drawn carts wait beside him, already piled high with bulging canvas sacks. The mules have their hooves wrapped in sacking so they won’t clatter on the stones. He sees us and bows, his voice barely a breath. “My lady. All is ready.” Grace nods and passes him a heavy bundle. “Holt. I owe you more than I can say.” “You owe me nothing, my lady.” He takes the bundle and loads it onto the cart. “The Earl lost his honor a long time ago. You’ve treated my family with nothing but kindness these twenty years. I’d lay down my life before I let anything happen to you.” His words are few, but every one lands like a hammer. Now I understand how long Grace has been weaving this web. How deep it goes. We climb into the middle cart. The compartment is small, crammed with goods, barely enough room to breathe. Grace, me, Bess, and Meg — four women pressed together in the dark. The whole space smells of gold and dust. “Holt.” Grace lifts the canvas flap and leans out. “Take the river route, head for the southern coast. My contact will meet you there. Once you’ve sold everything, take your family and sail for the Continent. Don’t come back. I’ve prepared all the letters you’ll need.” “Thank you, my lady.” He bows again. “God keep you safe.” He doesn’t ask where we’re going. That’s the kind of trust they share. No questions. The carter flicks the reins. The cart moves without a sound. Wheels grind softly over cobblestones. I lift the canvas and look back. The massive silhouette of Ashworth Manor shrinks into the darkness behind us. A sleeping beast. Three years of my life are in that house. Everything I once believed would be my home forever. Gone now. I drop the flap. My hands are ice. Grace takes my hand. “Don’t look back. We’ll have a new home.” I nod and lean against her shoulder. Neither of us sleeps that night. The cart rolls on until the sky turns grey, then stops at a crumbling dock on the riverbank. A small, flat-bottomed boat is waiting. A man in a wide-brimmed hat stands at the bow. We climb down and haul everything from the cart onto the boat, trip after trip. Every sack is shockingly heavy. I try to lift a small one and nearly throw out my back. Gold or silver — I can’t tell which. By the time the sun is up, the boat is loaded. The two servants kneel before Grace, then leave with the empty carts, heading in the opposite direction. Grace pays the carter a bag of silver. He leaves too. From start to finish, none of these people say a word more than necessary. They move like clockwork. On the boat, the four of us squeeze into the tiny cabin. The boatman rows from the stern. The current carries us downstream. Fog rises off the water. The riverbanks blur and fade. “Grace — where are we going?” I ask. “South. Somerset.” she says. “I bought a small house there years ago, with my own dowry money. Nobody knows about it.” She looks at me. Her gaze reaches somewhere far away. “Clara, when I married into Ashworth Manor, I was your age. My father traded me for Richard’s alliance in the wars. Your father traded you for a connection to the nobility. We’re the same.” I listen in silence. “I endured it for twenty years. I watched him bring home one woman after another. I raised his bastards as my own. I let him bleed my dowry dry to pay for his soldiers. I told myself — just hold on until William is grown, until he’s married, until my duty is done.” Her voice is perfectly calm. Like she’s telling someone else’s story. “But then I watched William look at Agnes. And I saw Richard all over again. Same hungry eyes. Same rotten blood. This family will never change. If I stay, I’ll watch you go through everything I went through. And I’d rather burn this place down than let that happen.” “I’m done.” She lets the word hang there, heavy as a stone. “Twenty years I swallowed it. Twenty years I smiled and said nothing while he did whatever he pleased. Well, he’s had his turn. Now it’s ours. And if no one’s going to hand us a way out — we’ll damn well make one.” The cabin is quiet. Nothing but the oar dragging through the water. I look at the grey streaking through Grace’s hair, and suddenly I understand. This isn’t impulse. She’s betting half a lifetime of silence on this one shot at freedom. “I’m with you, Grace.” I say. “All the way.” She smiles. A real smile. The kind I’ve never seen on her before — light, unburdened. “Good. Now — let me show you what we’re working with.” She pulls a stack of parchment from inside her cloak. “This is what we have.” She spreads them out. “I’ve been converting the estate’s assets into these for years.” Dozens of bills of exchange. Every single one worth a staggering sum. And underneath — land titles, property leases, scattered across the whole country. “Holt took the gold and the tapestries. Those are bulky, easy to trace. What we carry is this.” Grace taps the parchment. “Bills made out to no one by name. Once we reach Somerset, we take new names, and no one will ever find us.” “And this.” She hands me one more letter. I take it. At the top, in bold, furious handwriting, two words: LETTER OF DENUNCIATION. This isn’t Richard casting Grace out. This is Grace bringing Richard down. Below those words, she has laid out twenty years of his crimes. Stealing from the Crown’s war chest. Selling favors for bribes. Smuggling. Abuse. Every charge backed with evidence. Any single one could bring him before the Crown and destroy him. “I’ve had a hundred copies made.” Grace’s eyes go cold. “If we’re left in peace, this letter stays buried. But if he sends anyone after us — ” a thin, sharp smile crosses her face — “the Earl of Ashworth will find himself on trial for treason. And there won’t be enough left of him to bury.” I hold the letter. My hands are shaking. The woman in front of me is not a countess. Not just my husband’s mother. She’s a strategist. A general. Her battlefield was that household. Her army was loyalty and gold. And she just won the war.

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“A wolf-less RUNT has no place in the Alpha bloodline.” I was my elite family’s greatest shame. A weak, forgotten reject, tossed into the freezing border woods and left to be torn apart by Rogues. But when their claws pierced my flesh, the pain didn’t kill me. BLINDING LIGHTNING erupted from my veins, and the terrifying monster that had been sleeping inside my blood finally awake. “They have no idea. They just awakened the last pureblood STORM QUEEN…” …… “Evelyn Drake. Your time is up.” The High Priest’s voice was as cold as the black stones surrounding the altar. Tonight was my 18th birthday — my Awakening. For an Alpha’s daughter, this was a coronation. For me, it was a trial. I took a breath, my bare feet stinging against the jagged rock. Below me, my parents—the Alphas of the Storm Pack—watched with predatory greed. For eighteen years, they’d pushed me harder than any warrior, molding me into a weapon for this exact moment. One minute passed. Two. My bones didn’t snap; no fur sprouted from my skin. “Evelyn Drake,” the Priest announced, his voice echoing in the dead silence. “Failed. No wolf found.” The crowd erupted into a chorus of disgusted sneers. “So much for the ‘Chosen Genius’ prophecy.” “What a waste of resources.” “A literal parasite.” Then, my cousin Acacia stepped up. She had shifted earlier that evening into a rare, ethereal White Wolf. She slithered toward my fiancé, Blake, leaning into his chest. “Poor Evelyn,” she purred loud enough for everyone to hear. “A woman without a wolf doesn’t even have the right to mate. You’re just… human trash now.” I looked at Blake. He was the Storm Pack’s strongest warrior. My childhood protector. My supposed mate. He didn’t say a word. He simply shifted his gaze away, as if looking at me was an insult to his status. As I walked away, head high while my world crumbled, the Priest’s eyes burned into my back. “Strange,” he whispered. “Unless… something far more terrifying is suppressing her.”

“Move your trash to the servant’s cellar. Now.” The moment I stepped through the front door, my mother hurled a tattered black trash bag at my feet. It contained the few clothes I owned. “Acacia needs your suite for her post-Awakening recovery,” my father added, eyes glued to a tactical map. He didn’t even look up. “Since you’ve failed to shift, the Pack will no longer provide your refined meat or private trainers. Tomorrow, you report to the kitchens for scullery duty.” “I am your daughter,” I spat, my fingernails drawing blood from my own palms. “You are a failed investment,” he snapped, finally looking at me with pure vitriol. “We believed the prophecy was about you. Now we know it was Acacia all along.” I turned to leave, but stopped at the threshold as their voices dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Did we choose wrong?” my mother hissed. “The scent she had when we brought her home… it was so primal. How did she turn out to be a dud?” The blood drained from my face. Brought me home? I wasn’t their daughter.

I found Blake at the training grounds. The sun caught the gold in his hair, making him look every bit the “War God” the pack worshiped. “Evelyn, we need to sever the bond,” he said before I could speak. His voice was laced with a pity. “Acacia needs a strong Alpha to stabilize her new shift. You… you should find a nice human Omega to settle down with.” “Is it because she’s stronger?” I asked, staring directly into those eyes. “Or have you just been waiting for an excuse to crawl into her bed?” A flash of guilt, then anger, crossed his face. “Stop being so pathetic, Evelyn. It’s for the future of the Pack. Just be the bigger person for once to step aside.” “Step aside?” I let out a dry, jagged laugh. “I’ve bled for this pack for eighteen years, Blake. You’re not choosing the Pack. You’re choosing the shiny new toy.” Acacia appeared then, draping her arms around his neck. “Darling, don’t waste your breath on the wolf-less. We have an engagement ring to pick out.” As they walked away, the cold void in my chest didn’t break. It ignited. A flicker of something dark and ancient pulsed in my veins, answering the betrayal with a silent, deadly promise.

The Royal Academy list was posted. My name was missing. For centuries, the elite were sent to the capital to train under the Lycan King himself. It was the only way to escape the brutal politics of local packs. “You blocked my application,” I stated, finding Acacia in the main hall, preening in her new silk robes. “I simply filled the slot with someone worthy,” she smirked, tapping a scroll against my chest. “But the Pack is generous. We’ve assigned you a ‘glorious’ mission instead: The North Border Patrol.” The North Border. A 90% mortality rate. It was a dumping ground for the unwanted, infested with Rogues and shadows that even the King’s guards feared. “A maid on the front lines?” I gripped the scroll so hard it creaked. “You’re sending me there to die.” “I’m sending you to be useful,” she laughed. “Carry the warriors’ bags. Try not to scream too loud when the Rogues find you.” “Fine.” For eighteen years, I was the first on the training field and the last to leave. If they thought wolf-less made me easy prey, they were about to learn that a cornered girl with nothing to lose is far more dangerous than any beast.

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I lay on the birthing bed, contractions coming one after another. My mate Kieran gripped my hand, his eyes soft with tenderness. “Hold on a little longer, Elara. Soon we’ll meet our pup.” Pain soaked me in sweat, but I forced a smile for him. Until the midwife walked in holding a syringe—I thought it was moonshade tincture for the pain. But Kieran suddenly released my hand and stepped back. The needle pierced my skin, and I heard Kieran say: “Get the dosage right. She has to wait until Vivienne delivers before going into labor.” I stared at him wide-eyed, but he only checked his pocket watch. “Vivienne’s dilated to six centimeters. Just stall for two more hours.” I tried to scream, tried to struggle, but the drug was already flooding my system. The violent contractions in my abdomen felt like an unseen force suddenly choking them off. They stopped. Just stopped. …… I was dragged into a makeshift cell in the healer’s cellar. Kieran’s sister Lyra stood in the doorway, playing with a scalpel. “Elara, don’t blame Kieran.” “Vivienne’s carrying my eldest brother’s posthumous pup—the first male pup of the Frostwood Pack this generation.” “No matter how early you deliver, yours is just a daughter. Worthless.” I clutched my belly as another wave of contractions fought the drug. Pain darkened my vision. “Get the healer—I’m in labor, really…” Lyra laughed. She walked over, crouched in front of me, and tapped my face lightly with the scalpel. “Labor? What labor?” “The drug will hold for three more hours. Vivienne’s already in the birthing chamber.” “You wait here like a good girl. Once her son’s safely born, you can deliver however you want.” She stood and barked orders at the guards by the door: “Watch her. If she screams, gag her.” The door slammed shut. The cellar had only one dim oil lamp. I lay on the floor, blood already soaking through my dress. My mind-link had been severed when I entered the healing hall. Kieran said it would drain my strength, bad for the pup. Now I understood—he was afraid I’d reach anyone outside. I curled into myself, trying to breathe through the pain. But all I could see were Kieran’s eyes. Cold. Calculating. Like I was a thing. Not his mate. Not the woman about to bear his child. Three months ago, his eldest brother died in a border raid. He left behind his widow Vivienne, three months pregnant. At the funeral, the Old Alpha wept, gripping Vivienne’s hand: “You must deliver safely. The Frostwood Pack can’t end here.” I’d felt sorry for Vivienne then and offered: “Father, don’t worry. My pup with Kieran will honor you too.” The Old Alpha glanced at me and said nothing. From that moment, my child was already abandoned. “Ahh…” Another contraction hit, fiercer than before. The drug was wearing off. The pup was coming. I clawed at the door, pounding with everything I had. “Someone—I’m in labor—save my pup!” Silence from the other side. Only when my voice went hoarse did I hear a guard’s irritated voice: “Shut up already. Miss Lyra said wait.” “But my pup…” “If it dies, that’s fate. Who told you not to carry a son?” I collapsed on the floor, my body going cold. Not fate. Someone wanted my child dead.

I don’t know how long I suffered in that cellar. More blood kept coming, everything beneath me soaked through. As my consciousness faded, the door suddenly opened. Not Lyra. Not the guards. The pack healer, Bennett. When he saw my condition, his face went white. “Luna? What are you doing here?” “The Alpha said you were resting in the recovery chamber.” I tried to speak but couldn’t make a sound. I could only point at my belly, tears streaming down. Bennett rushed over and knelt to check me. The moment his hand touched my abdomen, he sucked in a sharp breath. “Fully dilated! Your water broke!” “She needs surgery immediately!” He tried to lift me, but the second I moved, a hot gush came. Blood. So much blood. Bennett’s hands were shaking as he yelled toward the door: “Someone! Anyone! She’s hemorrhaging!” The hallway was empty. This private healing hall was owned by the Frostwood Pack—tonight they’d cleared it for Vivienne’s delivery. Every healer and midwife was on standby in the third-floor birthing chamber. Bennett reached for the mind link, but it was blocked. “I’ll carry you up. Hang on!” He gritted his teeth and lifted me, stumbling toward the exit. The stairway was long, every step jarring me toward death. I could feel the pup dropping lower, but it wouldn’t come out. The drug was still working, contractions coming and going. This was the most dangerous situation. “Bennett…” I grabbed his collar, voice barely a whisper. “Save the pup. Please.” “Don’t talk nonsense! You’ll both be fine!” He finally burst onto the first floor and ran toward the surgery chamber. But when we reached the entrance, we both froze. The surgery chamber door stood wide open. Inside was empty. The enchanted healing lamps—gone. The birthing table—gone. Monitoring crystals, oxygen apparatus, all the medical equipment—everything was gone. Only an empty room and a few anchoring runes on the wall remained. Bennett stood frozen in place. I heard a choking sound come from his throat, like someone was strangling him. “How is this possible…” “I checked the equipment this afternoon…” Footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. Lyra walked over with two midwives, raising an eyebrow at us. “Bennett, what are you doing here?” “Vivienne’s in the third-floor chamber. Why’d you come down?” Bennett pointed at the empty surgery chamber, voice shaking: “The equipment? Where did all the surgical equipment go?” Lyra looked completely innocent: “Moved to the third floor, obviously.” “Vivienne’s having a C-section—she needs the best equipment. What if there’s an emergency? How could a regular chamber be enough?” As she spoke, her eyes landed on me and she smiled. “Elara’s ready to deliver?” “You’ll have to wait. Vivienne’s not done yet.” “Just be patient.” I stared at that perfectly made-up face. Suddenly remembering six months ago when she’d linked arms with me at the market, saying sweetly: “Elara, you’re so good to me. Better than my own blood sister.” I’d bought her enchanted accessories worth over a hundred thousand gold that day. Now it all seemed like a sick joke.

Bennett frantically tore through the healer’s station, searching for emergency equipment. But the cabinets were empty. Not even basic hemostats or gauze. “Equipment? Where’s the bloodclot potion? Birthwort tincture?” A midwife whispered: “Everything was sent to the third floor.” “The Alpha ordered all resources go to Lady Vivienne first.” Bennett slammed his fist into the cabinet. He looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, lips trembling: “I’m sorry, Luna, I’m so sorry…” “There’s nothing I can do…” Lyra walked over and patted his shoulder: “Bennett, don’t panic.” “Elara hasn’t delivered yet, right? Once Vivienne’s done, the equipment comes back down.” She glanced at my belly and added: “Even if she does deliver, it’s just a girl. No loss if it dies.” “The Frostwood Pack doesn’t need another one.” I stared hard at her. At this person I’d treated like a real sister for three years. Then, using every ounce of strength, I forced out two words: “You monster.” Lyra’s expression darkened. She bent down, leaned close to my ear, voice dropping low: “Call me whatever you want. Go ahead.” “Once you deliver and your body’s weak, I’ve got plenty of ways to shut you up permanently.” “Then Vivienne gets to be Luna.” “As for you…” She straightened up, smile bright: “For Kieran’s sake, I’ll let you live. You can be a servant.” Bennett couldn’t take it anymore: “Miss Lyra! This is murder!” “Murder?” Lyra scoffed. “Bennett, watch what you say.” “Women dying in childbirth—isn’t that perfectly normal?” “Besides, this is Frostwood Pack family business. What’s it to you, outsider?” She waved at the guards: “Take Bennett to rest.” “I’ll personally look after my dear sister.” Two guards stepped forward and dragged him away. Bennett struggled, shouting: “Luna! Apply pressure to your lower abdomen! Massage in circles! It triggers contractions!” “Don’t give up! The pup can still be saved!” His voice faded down the hall. Lyra shut the station door and turned to face me. She pulled out her scrying mirror and activated a vision spell. “Kieran, Elara’s about to deliver. Don’t you want to watch?” Kieran’s face appeared in the glass. He stood outside the birthing chamber, healers bustling in the background. “Elara, quit being dramatic.” “Vivienne’s in bad shape—the pup’s heartbeat dropped.” Lyra turned the mirror toward me: “Look how much blood Elara’s losing. Is she dying too?” Kieran frowned, glanced once, then quickly looked away. “Make her wait.” “Once Vivienne delivers, the healers will go down.” “Elara, you handle things. I can’t leave.” The vision faded. Lyra shrugged and pocketed her mirror. “You hear that?” “In Kieran’s heart, Vivienne comes first.” “You’re just a breeding tool.” “And once a tool’s used up, it gets thrown away.” I closed my eyes, done looking at her. My hand crept behind me to the lining of my dress. Sewn inside was a button-sized talisman. Father had given it to me. He’d said: “Elara, the Frostwood Pack isn’t what it seems. If something happens, press this.” I’d laughed it off back then. “Dad, Kieran treats me well. The whole pack treats me well.” Now I realized how stupid I’d been. I used my fingernail to pry open the protective seal. Pressed down gently. No sound. No light. But I knew—the signal was sent. Father had promised—press this, and help arrives within thirty minutes. But thirty minutes… Could my pup survive thirty minutes?

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They called me barren. Five years as Luna to Alpha Killian, we’d never once consummated our bond. The gossip had spread like wildfire— servants whispering in corridors, merchants trading stories at the market, nobles discussing it over wine. Some said I was as plain as dirt. Others claimed Killian’s heart belonged to a dead first love. The most ridiculous version? That I was barren—unable to bear the Alpha his heirs. I walked through the estate gardens, catching fragments of conversation from the servants trimming hedges nearby, my expression unchanged as I continued my path. Lily’s eyes reddened with rage. “Luna, how can they spread such lies about you? I’ll—” “Let them talk,” I interrupted softly, keeping my voice calm. “The worse they make it sound, the safer the Alpha stays.” Only I knew the truth. On our mating night, Killian stood by the bed, his face twisted with shame. After a long silence, his voice came out hoarse: “Maeve, I have… an affliction. I cannot fulfill a mate’s duty.” He told me he suffered from what the healers called Mate-Shame— A psychological condition that made him recoil from intimate touch since childhood, let alone consummate our mating bond. The condition was rare. If word got out, he’d be mocked across the realm, and the Pack’s honor would be ruined. “If you’re unwilling, I’ll petition the Lycan King tomorrow to dissolve this arranged mating.” Back then, his words were sincere. He’d been the only one to extend his hand when my family was slaughtered, my father murdered. I remembered Father’s dying words: The Winterpeak Pack can be trusted. Gently, I reached for his sleeve. “I didn’t accept this bond for that reason, Alpha. If you trust me, I’ll protect you.” That protection lasted five years. Five years of blocking every attack, swallowing every insult. Outsiders said I wasn’t favored. Said I couldn’t breed. Said this Luna was nothing but decoration. I never defended myself. Hell, I encouraged the rumors, shaping myself into a jealous, useless mate so everyone would believe I was the problem—not him. I thought we were protecting a secret together. Until three days ago. Killian came to my quarters for the first time in months, his eyes bright with something I hadn’t seen in years—hope. “Maeve, I found a healer. Says there’s a seventy percent chance he can cure me. I need to leave the Pack for a few days.” My heart jumped. Five years. I’d long stopped hoping for a real mating, but if he could heal, if we could be like normal mates— “Good.” I gripped his hand, smiling softly. “I’ll wait for you.” I waited three days. On the third evening, Killian returned. I heard the news and rushed out, barely smoothing down my dress. Then I saw him. Killian was holding a pup, maybe two years old, giggling as he tugged at Killian’s collar. Beside Killian stood a she-wolf in a pale green dress. The she-wolf was delicate, fragile-looking, with one hand resting lightly on Killian’s arm. My feet froze on the porch. Killian saw me. Something complicated flickered across his face. He walked forward with the pup and the she-wolf, his voice still gentle but carrying a new, unfamiliar distance. “Maeve, this is Bella.” He paused, looking down at the pup with soft eyes. “And this is my son. Leo.” The winter wind cut through the courtyard like a blade. I stared at the pup’s features—an exact copy of Killian’s. Stared at how Bella nestled against him. Suddenly, these five years felt like a complete joke. Mate-Shame. An affliction. Bullshit. He’d just been saving himself for her. And I—I’d spent five years shouldering every insult, every humiliation, all to be his fucking shield while he protected his true love. Killian kept talking, like he’d rehearsed this speech a thousand times. “Bella saved my life. Leo was… an accident. I’ve wronged her all these years.” “Now that I’ve brought them home, I want to give them proper status. Since Bella bore my heir, I need you to step down as Luna—” Every eye in the courtyard locked onto me, waiting for the show. But I just smiled softly. I raised my head, my gaze sweeping over Killian, over Bella, finally landing on the pup’s face. “Alpha, the healer cured you, didn’t he?” Killian’s expression shifted. He couldn’t find words. I didn’t wait for an answer. My voice stayed light. “Then congratulations, Alpha. As for the Luna position—whatever you say.” Killian froze. He’d expected tears, accusations. He’d already prepared excuses. But not this. “You really agree?” He searched my face, irritation rising in his eyes for no reason I could name. “Yes.” I nodded slightly. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.” I turned without another word and walked back to my quarters. Lily hurried after me, voice trembling. “Luna…” I didn’t stop. “Get ready. We’re going to see the King.” I changed into my simplest dress and pulled out a dusty wooden box from a hidden compartment. Holding it close, I walked straight out of the estate. When I left the Royal Court, the box was empty. In exchange, I carried a sealed decree—effective in seven days: formal dissolution of the mate bond. In the carriage home, Lily finally broke. “Luna, you really asked for Rejection? After all this?” I nodded. “But I’ve seen it—these five years, you loved him. You’re just gonna walk away? Let that rogue bitch win? Can you really let go?” I stared at the swaying curtain, silent for a moment. These five years, yes—I’d felt warmth when he remembered to bring me soup from the West End on cold nights. When I’d poisoned myself testing medicine and he’d stormed the Royal Healers’ Hall in the middle of the night, staying by my bedside without sleep, I’d almost believed in happily ever after. But all those small sparks, all that warmth—today crushed them to dust. I remembered why I became his Luna. And I’d never forgotten this was never my real home. “I bonded with him to honor my father’s dying wish. That debt’s paid. We’re done.” “My mother’s apothecary—I never abandoned it these five years.” “Leaving here just means doing what I should’ve done all along.” I glanced at Lily, a faint light in my eyes. “Besides, someone is waiting for me.”

When we returned to the estate, Killian was already waiting outside. Bella was beside him with red-rimmed eyes. “You’re back?” Killian’s tone was mild, but his eyes scrutinized my face. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “The Royal Court sent word you saw the King. Did you go to complain? Force Bella and Leo out?” “You’re joking, Alpha.” I met his gaze, my lips curving in the faintest smile. “Everyone knows I can’t serve my mate. Now she’s given you an heir—that’s cause for celebration. Why would I force them out?” Killian’s face went white. He knew what they said about me out there. But five years, and I’d never complained. He must’ve assumed I didn’t care. His voice came out stiff, avoiding my eyes. “Ignore the gossip. The innocent are innocent.” The innocent are innocent. My chest went cold. Right. He was innocent. All of the Northern Territories thought Alpha Killian was devoted, honorable—refusing mistresses, refusing brothels, staying faithful to his barren Luna. A rare gentleman. And me? I was the jealous, useless one who couldn’t give the Pack an heir. The villain. Five years. I’d sacrificed my reputation, swallowed every degradation, and got four empty words in return. My throat tightened. I opened my mouth— But Bella’s soft voice interrupted. “The Alpha’s right, Luna. You’ve endured so much slander for the Pack these years. It must have been hard.” “From now on, I’ll help shoulder your burdens. If anyone speaks ill of you again, I’ll set them straight.” Looking at the two of them, I suddenly laughed. “Bella, save your energy. Play your act for the one who needs to see it. No need to perform pity in front of me.” “As for defending me—don’t bother. Lies stay lies. And the truth always comes out eventually.” Killian’s face flushed with embarrassment and anger. “Bella’s just trying to help. Why be so cruel?” I ignored him, walking past them both into my residence. Back inside, I began quietly packing my belongings. My gaze swept the cold, sparse room, landing on a rosewood box on my vanity. Inside, neatly arranged, were all the gifts Killian had given me over the years. Earrings. Necklace. Bracelets. And a seal he’d carved himself, engraved with my name. He’d said: “Maeve, keep my private seal. Seeing it is the same as seeing me.” I’d treasured it back then, thinking it meant trust. Now I knew better. It was charity. I picked up the seal, stared at it for a long moment, then walked to the brazier and dropped it in. Then the jewelry. One by one, five years of memories turned to ash in the flames. Lily knelt by the brazier, tears streaming. “Luna, these were your most precious things.” “They were. Not anymore.” My voice came out flat. The fire died down slowly. I stood there a while longer before turning to Lily. “Pack. We’re leaving.” As we sorted through my belongings, I realized that after five years, the only things truly mine were a few old personal items. I looked at the half-empty trunks and felt lighter. The less I carried, the clearer the path ahead. Now I just needed to settle things at my mother’s apothecary.

The next day, I left the estate alone. Passing the West Market tavern, raucous laughter spilled into the street. A drunk’s voice carried through the open door. “Five years that Luna’s been warming his bed—nothing! Then some stray bitch waltzes in with a pup, and suddenly the Alpha’s got an heir. Heard the Luna’s face went white as a sheet when she saw the pup!” Another voice chimed in: “Right? If I were her, I’d hang myself. How’s she got the nerve to be still breathing?” The filth hit me like barbs, my face going pale. Five years of this. I’d heard it countless times. But right now, something inside my chest felt carved out, my fingers going numb. I quickened my pace, turning onto West Street. The apothecary was just ahead. But before I got close, I spotted Killian and Bella standing outside the cosmetics shop across the street. Bella held up a box of rouge, leaning close to show him. Killian bent his head, their postures intimate. I immediately turned around. “Maeve?” But Killian had already seen me. He crossed the street with Bella, blocking my path. “What are you doing out here alone?” Bella’s soft voice followed. “Luna, did you follow us? The Alpha’s just helping me adjust to the Pack—please don’t misunderstand.” She pressed closer to Killian’s side. I didn’t bother responding. I turned to leave. Suddenly, a horse’s scream split the air. A slop cart spooked it—it charged straight toward us. People scattered, screaming. Killian’s instinct kicked in—he yanked Bella hard into his arms, shielding her as they stumbled backward. His elbow slammed into my shoulder. I staggered back, falling. The cart flew past, missing me by inches. The next second, an entire barrel of rancid slop dumped over my head. The street went silent. Everyone stared. Someone covered their nose. Others looked disgusted. Then laughter exploded. “Oh my Goddess, isn’t that the Luna?” “Look at her—pathetic…” I sat frozen, slop dripping down my hair. Rotten vegetables, moldy bread crusts tangled in my hair and on my face. My vision blurred. A few steps away, Killian steadied a shaken Bella, his eyes full of worry and tenderness. When he finally registered my condition, he instinctively moved toward me—then seemed repulsed by the filth covering me, stepping back, frowning. “I told you not to go out. Now look at you. Get up.” Bella coughed delicately. Killian immediately looked down at her. “Are you scared? Let’s get you home.” He glanced back at me, his expression uncomfortable, impatient. “Clean yourself up and come back to the estate. Bella’s not feeling well. We’re taking the carriage.” Without another look, he helped Bella turn and walk away. The carriage disappeared in a cloud of dust. I slowly stood, and with the entire street watching, walked home step by step, covered in stinking refuse. From West Street to the estate—half an hour on foot. Even back at the estate, servants avoided me wherever I went, whispering and stifling laughter. Lily saw me and screamed, rushing over. “Luna, what happened?!” I waved her off. “Draw a bath.” Lily nodded, eyes red, and ran to make arrangements. But the hot water that usually took fifteen minutes never came. After a long wait, two servants finally appeared with a single bucket of lukewarm water. “Luna, the kitchens said the Alpha ordered household expenses reviewed. Hot water’s rationed. This is all they could spare…” I looked at the pathetic bucket, barely steaming, then down at the filth coating my body. I smiled bitterly. “Fine. This’ll do.” Lily’s tears spilled over. “How can the Alpha treat you like this? Even if he didn’t protect you, to deny you hot water…” “It’s deliberate.” My voice cut through the quiet.

Lily looked up, eyes wide. I lowered my gaze. “That cart was timed perfectly.” “I leave the estate, and he just happens to be there. The horse spooks at exactly the right moment. The barrel tips at just the right angle.” Lily’s mouth opened soundlessly, cold dread crawling up her spine. “Leaving me alone in the street, letting the servants disrespect me—that’s deliberate too.” Lily’s voice shook. “Why would the Alpha do this?” “Why?” I opened my eyes, staring at the darkening sky outside. “He needs me dirty. Needs me humiliated. Needs everyone in the Pack to see me as trash—so worthless even street slop can be dumped on me.” I took a slow breath, the last warmth in my chest freezing solid. “That way, no matter what Bella’s background is, as long as she stands next to me, people will heap all their scorn on me instead.” Once upon a time, Killian would frown over a scratch on my finger. Would go cold if anyone spoke ill of me. He’d promised to protect me for life when my family was slaughtered. And now, he orchestrated my public degradation for another she-wolf. How easily hearts change. That night, I spiked a fever, delirious for two days. On the third day, when I finally recovered enough, I headed out to the apothecary as planned. But stepping outside, I realized the estate gossip had gotten worse. “Cook told me herself—the Alpha’s ordering rare herbs from across the territory just for Bella’s tea!” “And yesterday? He took her jewelry shopping himself. Getting some expensive piece made for the kid—probably a christening gift.” “Since our dear Luna got doused in slop, the Alpha won’t even step foot in her courtyard. If I were her, I’d be too ashamed to keep living.” Lily’s eyes reddened with rage. She started forward—I gently stopped her. “Let them talk.” At the apothecary’s back courtyard—where we dried and prepared medicines—Healer Willow hurried over the moment I arrived. “Luna, we have a problem.” “This morning’s inventory—several rare herbs were swapped with inferior goods. Even the prepared medicines are contaminated.” My heart sank. “When did this happen?” “These past few days.” Willow lowered her voice. “Only four wolves have access to the storage: me, Bennett, and two apprentices who just started.” Before she could finish, screams erupted from the front hall. A she-wolf burst in, clutching a feverish pup. “Help! My son took your medicine and now he’s burning up, breaking out in rashes!” I rushed forward to examine the boy. His face was flushed, the rash bright red—clear signs of an allergic reaction. I checked the medicine packet the she-wolf brought. One ingredient—the goldenseal root—was dark, moldy-smelling. My head snapped up. “This root is rotten. The Moonwell Apothecary would never dispense this!” “It came from HERE!” the she-wolf wailed. “If my son dies, I’ll kill you all!” The crowd outside grew, pointing and whispering. In the chaos, a carriage stopped at the entrance. Killian strode in, his expression dark, eyes landing on me. “What trouble are you causing now?”

I gripped the moldy root tighter. “Someone switched the apothecary’s herbs.” “Evidence?” Killian’s tone was cold. “Every time something goes wrong, it’s always someone else’s fault. Does the Moonwell Apothecary just attract trouble?” He stepped closer, lowering his voice but making each word crystal clear. “Maeve, shut it down. What does it look like—a Luna spending all her time in an apothecary?” “Bella’s right. There’s a new incident every other day. You’re making us a laughingstock.” I looked at him and suddenly felt like laughing. “Is that why you came today, Alpha?” “I’m doing this for your own good.” He frowned. “And for the Pack’s reputation. Close the apothecary. If you need coin, I’ll compensate you—” “No need.” I cut him off, turning to Willow. “Request the royal herb examiner to verify the medicine on site.” “Maeve!” Killian’s voice turned sharp with anger. “Are you really going to defy me in public?” Just then, a servant burst through the door, panicked. “Alpha! Bella’s having chest pains, can’t breathe!” Killian’s face went white. He grabbed my wrist, fingers digging in. “What did you put in the tea you gave Bella? She’s never had episodes like this before!” I froze. “What tea?” “Bella said she couldn’t sleep. She came to your apothecary yesterday for medicine!” His eyes went ice-cold. “If anything happens to her, Maeve, your apothecary will never open again!” He released my wrist roughly and rushed out. I stood there, a ring of red marks blooming on my skin. Willow approached, worried. “Luna, Bella never came here for medicine. We’ve never even seen her…” “I know.” My voice came out quiet. I watched Killian’s carriage disappear down the street and laughed—soft, bitter. Turns out when someone doesn’t love you, even framing you comes naturally. The next day, the Moonwell Apothecary barely opened before a mob stormed in. Leading them was the mate of yesterday’s she-wolf. He slammed his fist on the counter, sending bottles flying. “Poison dealers! My son vomited blood last night. He’s still unconscious. You’re going to pay for what you did!” A dozen men who looked like hired muscle followed, smashing everything. Medicine cabinets toppled. Herbs scattered across the floor. Grinding mortars shattered into pieces. “Shut down this death trap!” I tried to protect the wooden plaque my mother had left—the one engraved with “Healing Hearts, Saving Lives”—but someone shoved me hard. I fell, my elbow scraping across broken pottery. Blood welled immediately. “Stop!” I tried to stand, but the chaos pressed in. Someone stepped on my skirt, and I stumbled again. “Everyone freeze!” The territory guards arrived. The captain surveyed the destruction, frowning. “The Moonwell Apothecary is under investigation for medical malpractice. By order, this establishment is sealed. No one enters or exits!” “Captain!” I crawled to him, my voice shaking. “You can’t seal the apothecary. We have evidence the herbs were tampered with. Give me three days—” “Maeve.” A cold voice cut through from the doorway. Killian stood in the morning light, Bella meek and docile behind him. His gaze swept the ruined apothecary like he was looking at garbage. “Are you still making a scene?” “You think the apothecary stayed open all these years because of your skill? You survived on the Winterpeak Pack’s name. No one dared investigate too closely.” “Now someone’s been hurt, and you’re still playing stubborn?” I looked up at him. At the undisguised irritation in his eyes. At the fleeting smirk on Bella’s lips. Suddenly, I understood everything. Slowly, I stood and brushed the dust from my dress. “You’re right, Alpha.” “The apothecary only existed because of the Pack. Now that you want it closed, then it’s closed.” Killian blinked, like he hadn’t expected me to comply so easily. “Good. You understand.” His tone softened slightly. “Go back to the estate. Stay inside where you belong. I will handle the rest.” I said nothing. I watched the guards nail the official notice to the door, sealing it with wax. Watched my mother’s life’s work dissolve with Killian’s casual dismissal. The last thread of attachment snapped. I walked out of the apothecary quietly, passing Killian and Bella without stopping. But as I did, I murmured under my breath. “Three more days.” Killian frowned. “What did you say?” But I was already gone.

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Everyone in New York knows Victor Roccanti is a bloodthirsty killer who never touches women. Julian was terrified his adopted sister Mia would suffer if she married him. so he forced me to impersonate her. “Just act like a slut. He’ll be disgusted enough to call off the engagement. Then I’ll come get you.” One reckless night. I walked out of the Roccanti estate barely able to stand. Julian rushed over to check my body. My collarbone and chest were covered in hickeys.He lost it, screaming: “I told you to act! Who said you could actually fuck him?” “You that desperate for dick? Even the goddamn Grim Reaper?” I calmly fixed my collar. “You’re wrong, Julian.” “Victor… he was gentle.” … Julian stared at the hickey on my neck. His hand shot out and grabbed my throat, squeezing like he wanted to crush my windpipe. “Gentle? That monster’s buried three fiancées and he wrecked you like this—you call that gentle?” “I sent you there to ruin the alliance, not to actually spread your legs for him!” “You’re mine. How dare you let him touch you?” My head tilted back from his grip, face turning red. But I didn’t fight back. I just looked down, watching his rage. “Julian… you promised me money…” Julian let go like I’d burned him. My legs gave out and I stumbled into the shelf behind me. He pulled out a handkerchief. Wiped his fingers clean, then threw it in the trash can nearby. Flames swallowed it instantly. Three years ago, my father’s embezzlement was exposed. He took a bullet for me and swore to protect me for life. Now he has personally pushed me into another man’s bed. He is even stingy with my brother’s medical bills to keep him alive. He stared at me, eyes full of pain: “If Mia weren’t terrified of Victor’s violent temper and refusing to marry him, I would never have sent you…” Seeing my numb expression, the guilt in his eyes instantly turned to anger. He pulled out his wallet, yanked out dozens of crumpled hundred-dollar bills, and threw them viciously in my face. He ripped the cash from his pocket and threw it at me. Hundred-dollar bills mixed with checks scattered on the floor, rolling into the dusty corners. “Take your money and go clean yourself up. ” “Victor’s paranoid as hell. ” “If he finds out you impersonated Mia, you and that half-dead brother of yours will be at the bottom of the Hudson feeding the fish!”” He turned to leave. I held onto the cabinet and slowly crouched down, fingers searching the cold floor. One. Two. I picked up each scattered bill. Blew off the dust and carefully tucked them away. Julian stopped at the door and looked back at me. The contempt in his eyes deepened. “Born cheap. Even when it’s money from selling yourself, you think it smells sweet.” It does smell sweet. This money keeps my brother Leo alive. I just looked at him calmly. “Julian. Where’s the Plan B?” Julian stopped, turned back to look at me. Something complicated and painful flashed in his eyes. Like he remembered the socialite who once dazzled New York. Then my humiliation seemed to hurt him, turning into deeper disgust. “What? Scared you’ll get pregnant with Victor’s kid? ” “Relax. The private doctor said after your miscarriage hemorrhage, your uterus is ruined. ” “You can never get pregnant.” “Stop worrying about things that won’t happen!” The door slammed shut. Cold air rushed in. I gripped the money tightly. This money, plus what I’d saved before, was just enough for Leo’s medication for one month. I walked to the table. Poured a cup of cold water and swallowed the cheap painkillers from my pocket. Bitterness spread in my throat. I didn’t care what Julian thought of me. As long as Leo could live, even if it meant being Victor’s mistress forever, I’d do it.

Next morning before dawn, the maid dragged me out of bed. “Miss Vance, Boss says you need to dress up. There’s a gala tonight at the Plaza, you’re going as Miss Mia.” The maid’s grip was rough, hurting my arm. I forced myself up despite the soreness. Let them paint makeup on my face. Mia was Julian’s adopted sister, his precious darling. She was too delicate for these exhausting galas. Julian always made me go as her stand-in. We looked similar enough anyway. Just wear a veil, stay quiet, and nobody would notice. In the car, Julian kept his eyes closed. Didn’t even glance at me. Only when we reached the hotel ballroom did he finally speak. “Victor will be there tonight. Behave yourself.” “If he sees through this, you can start planning your father’s funeral.” My father. He’d been dead in prison for two weeks. Julian knew, but still used him to threaten me. I couldn’t expose the truth. Leo still needed money for treatment. I lowered my head. “Yes.” At the gala, champagne flowed. I sat beside Julian, eyes down, peeling grapes on my plate. A burning gaze stayed fixed on me. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Victor sat at the head table in a black suit, dark hair slicked back. The Don of New York’s largest crime family. The man every mobster in this room answered to. Even radiating violence, his face was devastatingly handsome. He played with his wine glass. But his eyes never stopped roaming over me. He raised his glass toward Julian, but his gaze licked across my collarbone as he smiled. “You’re a lucky man. Your sister may be fragile, but that body…” “I’d recognize it anywhere. Unforgettable.” Julian’s face went pale, but he could only force a smile and drain his glass. Under the table, he dug his fingers into my thigh. The pain made my hand shake. The grape I’d peeled rolled onto the floor. “Useless piece of shit.” Julian cursed under his breath. After three rounds of drinks, Victor stood to leave. As he passed our table, he paused. A lighter slipped from his pocket, landing right at my feet. Heavy platinum Zippo. Everyone around was talking, nobody noticed. I bent down instinctively to pick it up. The metal was warm, silky smooth against my fingers. Long and thick, with just enough heft. Victor didn’t walk away. Instead, he used one finger to tilt my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. Right in front of Julian. His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, slow and deliberate. “Such skilled hands.” His voice dropped to a rasp. “You know exactly how to handle things.” He leaned closer, breath hot against my ear. “Keep it. Take it home and… practice with it.” “Get yourself familiar with the shape. The weight. How it feels.” His eyes gleamed with dark amusement. “I want you well-trained.” Julian’s wine glass shattered in his grip, liquid spilling everywhere. I didn’t dare look up, just pressed my lips together. This lighter is worth a fortune, enough to cover three years of Leo’s treatments. In the car going back, I carefully hid the lighter in my sleeve. “Hand it over.” Julian’s voice suddenly cut through. I froze, didn’t dare disobey, and gave him the lighter. Julian held the lighter. Examined it by the car’s interior light, then let out a cold laugh. “Custom Zippo? Victor’s feeling generous.” He glanced at me dismissively. “Think this is some kind of love token? It’s just how he plays with women.” “Something like this, only someone as cheap and desperate as you would treasure it.” He casually flicked his wrist. The lighter arced through the air, out the window, falling into a gutter on the side of the road. “No… that was…” I cried out, trying to stop him, but Julian pulled me into his arms. “Shut up! It’s just a piece of junk, contaminating my car.” I didn’t care about dignity, threw myself at the window staring at that puddle of filth. Cold spread through me from my feet upward. That wasn’t just a lighter. That was Leo’s medicine. Leo’s last breath, the lifeline he was desperately clinging to at death’s door! Julian watched my agony and seemed pleased. “Remember this. You’re just a substitute.” “Victor wants Mia Moretti, not you, Clara Vance.”

We got back to the estate late at night. Before I even walked in, I heard suppressed coughing from inside. It was Leo. My heart tightened and I rushed through the door. Only one dim lamp lit the room. Leo was skeletal, curled up on the bed, his cheeks burning red. “Sis… I feel awful…” He called out in a daze. I touched his forehead. Burning hot. The medicine we bought before was gone. The doctor said if we didn’t get the serum in time, he wouldn’t make it through winter. I searched my entire body. Aside from the cash Julian threw at me last night, I had nothing. That money couldn’t even buy a single dose. I gritted my teeth and ran to the main house. Mia’s room was bright with lights. I knelt in the hallway, kowtowing toward the room. “Julian, please have mercy. Leo can’t hold on much longer…” “You promised before, as long as I did what you said and went to see Victor, you’d keep Leo safe.” “Please give me one dose of serum to save his life!” “As long as Leo lives, I’ll do whatever you want, I swear!” Laughter came from inside. After a long time, the door finally opened. Julian walked out with Mia in his arms. Mia wore thick furs, her face glowing, looking nothing like someone sick. “Clara Vance, what are you freaking out about now?” I crawled forward and grabbed Julian’s clothes. “Julian, my brother is dying. He needs serum to survive.” “Please, for all the times I stood in for Mia, save him!” Julian frowned. “The storage still has a few vials,” he said. Mia suddenly interrupted him, covering her chest and letting out a soft, fragile cough. “Jules, the doctor said I need regular medication too.” Julian immediately tensed and supported her. “Your health comes first. Those vials are for you.” He turned back to me, his tone cold. “Leo’s condition is a bottomless pit. Even with treatment, it’s just pouring money down the drain.” I stared at him in disbelief. Mia treated it as routine care. For Leo, it was life support. “Julian, Mia just needs maintenance. My brother needs this to survive…” Julian absently stroked Mia’s hair, not even looking at me. “How can your brother compare to Mia?” “Don’t even think about it—if Mia needs any vial in this house, she gets them first.” Mia leaned into his arms and gave me a smug smile. “Clara, it’s not that I won’t help.” “I’ll have them save the leftover doses for you. If there’s anything still worth using.” Humiliation. Pure humiliation. I stood up from the ground and wiped my tears. “No need.” If the estate wouldn’t give me a way to live, someone else would.

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I am Ethan’s wife. He stole me from his best friend Ryan. A man who took another man’s woman watches every male around her. When I started feeding a stray on our block, he confirmed the dog was female and that its owner was also female before he relaxed. Then a new intern started at the office. Some kid who brought me coffee for a few days. Ethan said he didn’t care. That night he scrolled through my phone until three in the morning and broke out in hives. On the way to the ER, face flushed and burning, he pulled up the intern’s Instagram and shoved it in my face. “Those pecs are obviously photoshopped.” “And this height? He’s five-eight in lifts, max. No way he’s six feet.” The doctors around us were biting back laughter. I squeezed his mouth shut and pushed him into the exam room. On the way to pick up his prescription, the doctor mentioned it casually. “For contraception, we recommend the pill or condoms. This male contraceptive just hit the market and the side effects are severe. The rash is the least of it.” “He’s taken it three times in one week. I understand not wanting to put the burden on his partner, but this is reckless.” I stopped walking. I was three months pregnant. … He was asleep when I picked up his phone. The passcode was my birthday. His photo gallery was all me. His search history was all me too. “How to get your wife’s attention back” “Wife thinks I’m too clingy. Does she have someone else?” “How to help wife who misses her dead mother” His notes app. All me. “March 20. She had a nightmare about her mom again.” “March 21. She can’t keep anything down. Morning sickness getting worse.” “April 1. Tracked down her old nanny. Learned her mother’s pot roast recipe. She cleaned her plate.” My eyes burned. I told myself it was the hormones. Then a notification popped up from the navigation app. “Based on your frequent routes, we’ve planned your trip home. Estimated arrival: 30 minutes.” The destination was Unit 7B, 280 Park Avenue. We lived in Unit 3A. My fingers opened the route history before my brain caught up. For the past three months, every day at noon, he drove to that address and stayed for roughly two hours. The morning sickness had hollowed me out. Fifteen pounds gone in three months. The only food I could keep down was whatever Ethan cooked. The office was far. Between taking care of me and dealing with the sharks at the company, working until two in the morning was normal for him. I felt bad. I told him to eat lunch at the office and rest. He took it as me not needing him anymore. We had a huge fight. No matter what I said, he refused to stop making me lunch. I had to pretend the morning sickness was getting better and swear I’d take care of myself before he finally agreed to stay at work. Except he hadn’t stayed at work. Every day, for three months, he’d been one door down in another unit with someone else. My hands shook around the phone. A message came in. “Babe, I left a pair of panties at your place yesterday. She didn’t find them, did she? I left them on purpose. Unwashed.” “They’re my favorites. Bring them for my birthday?” I stared at the profile picture. My hands were trembling when I tapped it open. Bianca. My father’s bastard daughter. The girl whose mother drove my mother to her grave and moved into our house before the funeral flowers had wilted. She spent her whole life grabbing everything I had. My clothes, my jewelry, my father’s love. Even my ex-husband. I caught them in our bed. That’s how that marriage ended. The day the divorce went through, I wanted to die. Ethan held me and said it word by word. “Babe, I will only ever love you. I don’t care what she does. I won’t give her a second look. Believe me.” And he’d proven it. When Bianca sent him nudes, he went straight to the police. She got seven days in a holding cell. He made sure her university found out. They expelled her. Her future, gone. I thought leaving that swamp and finding Ethan was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me. So why her. Why was it always her. I opened their messages. Ethan calling her babe. Bianca threatening to tell me everything and Ethan shutting her down cold, blocking her, punishing her, taking the punishment to bed. Me in the hospital, crying over a bad prenatal result, and the two of them in the room I’d decorated with my own hands, Bianca wearing my pajamas… My whole body shook. Nausea hit the back of my throat. Behind me, the bed shifted. “Babe?”

He saw my red eyes and reached for me. I smelled it on him. Something faint and sour. I shoved him back and ran to the bathroom, doubled over the sink. “Babe!” He was right behind me. The second his hand touched my back I flinched, grabbed the glass ashtray off the counter and hurled it at him. “Get away from me!” The ashtray caught him on the temple. Blood ran down along his brow. He didn’t touch it. He just looked at me, eyes full of panic. “Is it the baby acting up again?” “Or does something hurt?” I sat on the floor and watched him bolt out of the bathroom. He came back with water and pills. Blood dripped onto his white collar and spread into a small red bloom. He didn’t notice. He just held out the pills. “Open up, babe.” “Why?” I looked into his eyes. The tears came before I could stop them. Days ago we were picking out names. We were talking about the future. The three of us. Taking her to the coast and the mountains and every place we’d been when we first fell in love. Minutes ago he was raging jealous over some kid bringing me coffee. “Why did you betray me?” I stared at him through the blur. Ethan froze. His hand tightened around the pills. “You know.” I waited for him to explain. I told myself I would believe anything he said. As long as he said it, I could forgive him. “I’m sorry.” He stepped closer, voice shaking. “I know having the intern fired behind your back will upset you. But I can’t stand another man being near you every day, seeing you smile.” He crouched down and looked up at me. “You have no idea what it took to take you from Ryan. How hard I fought just to stand beside you. And some nobody gets to walk in and hand you coffee like it’s nothing.” “I know I’m obsessive. I know I’m not normal. But I don’t regret it.” “Babe, hit me, scream at me, punish me however you want. Just don’t hurt yourself. Don’t leave me. I’ll die.” He looked up at me with red eyes, like an abandoned dog. I looked at him and knew I should turn around and walk out. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t give up his tenderness. I couldn’t give up these happy days. So as long as I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I could pretend none of it was real. As long as I didn’t see it. I looked at him and smiled. “I want pot roast.” His eyes lit up and he turned toward the kitchen. But his phone rang. He glanced at it, face apologetic. “Sorry, babe. Something urgent at the office. I’ll make it for you when I’m back.” He was out the door before I could answer. I got in my car and followed him. 812 Sutton Place. I stood under the trees and watched Bianca take his arm and walk him through the front door. The second it closed, I took out my phone and called him. Through the living room window I saw him stand up and reach for his jacket. Then Bianca rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. Through the phone I heard wet sounds and his breathing. My grip on the phone turned my knuckles white. “Ethan. My stomach hurts.” He shoved Bianca away and grabbed his coat and headed for the door. “Babe, don’t be scared. I’m coming right now.” Then a muffled sound came through the line. Bianca doubled over. The call went dead. Ten seconds later, a text came in. “Babe, emergency meeting at the office. I have to be there. I’ve already called the doctor, he’ll be at the house any minute. Don’t be scared.” I looked up. Through the window, I watched him carry Bianca toward the bedroom. Something in my chest died. I took out my phone and called the clinic. “I need to schedule an abortion.”

I was pulling out when I saw someone standing in front of my car. My father. We looked at each other. Then I followed him into the house I’d grown up in. The living room was the same room. But nothing in it was mine anymore. The photos of me and my mother on the wall had all been replaced with Bianca and her mother. My mother’s orchids were gone. Stiff red roses in their place. I stood in the middle of the room like I’d walked into the wrong house. My father pointed at the sofa. I sat down and he got straight to it. “Leave Ethan.” “No. Ethan can’t live without me.” Once, when I found Bianca’s number in his phone, I packed a bag and headed for the door. He got there first. Didn’t say a word. Just grabbed a knife from the coffee table and drove it into his own stomach. Blood poured out and he didn’t move. He just stood there between me and the door. “You want to leave? Then I die first.” My father said nothing. He just looked at me. Then he pointed at the wall behind me. A photo wall. All Bianca and Ethan. Cuddled on a gondola in Venice. Holding hands under cherry blossoms in Kyoto. Kissing beneath the Eiffel Tower. “He wasn’t on a business trip last week. He took her around the world.” He stood up and walked to the wall and pointed at the photo in the center. A wedding photo. “They got married overseas. Had a ceremony. Invited everyone.” “Including his parents.” “To get his parents to accept her, he knelt outside their door for seven days.” “Remind me, did anyone come to your wedding?” My mouth opened but nothing came out. Ethan’s parents despised me. They thought I’d seduced their son and made him break up a friendship and ruined his reputation. They didn’t come to the wedding. They refused to see us after. But in the photos, they were smiling and accepting tea from Bianca’s hands. “I heard you had a car accident a few days ago.” “You didn’t tell Ethan because you didn’t want him to worry.” My father let out a short laugh. “You know where he was?” “Right down the block from you. Shopping for a diamond ring with her.” My skull buzzed. “He watched the whole thing. Watched the other driver get in your face. Watched that man shove you to the ground. Watched you lock yourself in your car and cry. Watched them bang on your window and scream at you. Watched you sit there shaking and call the police.” “He didn’t move. Because she was thirsty and he wanted to get her a drink.” “That’s a lie!” I was on my feet, shaking. I refused to believe that the man who agonized over a scratch on my finger could watch me get pushed to the ground and do nothing. “You’re making this up because you want me away from Ethan.” My father looked at me in silence. The look in his eyes made my skin crawl. After a long time, he spoke. “Bianca’s pregnant.” “The baby’s name is Julian.” Julian. Something inside my head snapped. That name. Ethan and I spent a whole month on it. We went through every baby name book and argued and laughed and finally agreed. It was our baby’s name. Only our baby’s name. “A man knows a man.” My father’s voice came again. “All he has left for you is obligation. Keep going like this and you’ll end up exactly like your mother.” My mother. When she found out about the affair, she refused to leave. My father brought the other woman into our home and kissed her in front of my mother. My mother couldn’t take the humiliation. She killed herself. Would I end up the same way? I didn’t know. I just felt tired. I stopped listening to the man in front of me. I pushed the door open and walked out. The sun hit my skin and I couldn’t feel it.

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The night I died in the basement, my skin was falling off in sheets. My husband was upstairs in bed with the woman who put me there. In my last life, the orphan my husband took in gave me a necklace. After I put it on, I couldn’t stay awake. My body broke down in ways no doctor could explain, and by the end I was rotting from the inside out. I didn’t learn the truth until after I died. She was a corporate spy planted by a rival conglomerate. After her side lost, she used her face and her body to get Julian to bring her home. Once she was inside the estate, she used that necklace to destroy me. The pendant contained a trace amount of radium, enough to poison anyone who wore it against their skin day after day. Slow, invisible, impossible to diagnose until it was too late. Julian spent every night in her bed. He let me die in a locked room in the basement, alone, on a bare mattress that smelled like bleach and mold. After I was gone, they rolled me into a body bag and dumped me at a county crematorium. No service. No marker. Nothing. The only person who came for me was Seth, a housekeeper from Beatrice Sterling’s household. He pulled strings to get my remains out of that crematorium and buried me himself. All because I’d smiled at him once at a company gala. That was all it took. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment she handed me the necklace. She wanted what I had. I’d make sure she got it. —– “Julian really pulled it off. The board’s going to hand him the CEO seat after this.” “A full acquisition in three months. The Thornes don’t play around.” Guests raised their glasses and turned toward the head of the table where Julian sat beside me. Crystal and candlelight everywhere. The grand hall of the Thorne Estate packed with every name that mattered. Seraphina didn’t have a title or a ring, but she moved through the room like she already owned it. She walked over to me with a glass of champagne in one hand and a small velvet box in the other, all grace, all warmth. “I know how much you worried while Julian was away. I went to St. Catherine’s and had this blessed for you. For good luck.” She opened the box. A simple chain with a small pendant, nothing flashy. The last time, I was so happy Julian had come home victorious, so touched by her gesture, that I let her clasp it around my neck right there at the table. I had no idea what it really was. The pendant was laced with radium. Sealed under a thin coating that wore away with daily use, leaching radiation into the skin at the back of my neck. A little every day. Not enough to set off alarms. Just enough to kill, slowly. First came the fatigue. Then the aches I couldn’t explain. Then the sores. And Seraphina? She glowed brighter every day. The sicker I looked, the more radiant she appeared, and the more Julian turned to her. By the time I woke up from a week-long haze, my body was falling apart. Open sores, the smell of decay. Seraphina stood at the foot of my bed, fanned her nose, and draped herself over Julian like a silk scarf. “Oh my. She looks awful. What happened to her?” Julian’s face went cold. “Get this woman out of my sight. Lock her downstairs. Anyone who brings her food or water gets fired on the spot.” I tried to speak. My mouth opened and nothing came out. All I could do was watch him walk away. Up until the moment I choked on my own breath in that basement, I never understood how the man who once loved me could turn into that. It wasn’t until my mind was floating above my own corpse that I pieced it together. She’d been a spy all along. Embedded by a rival firm, using her looks to hook Julian and using that necklace to put me in the ground. She didn’t need to be sick herself. She just needed me to wear it. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear her apart. But I was nothing. Just a thought with no hands. The clink of glasses brought me back. I was standing in the grand hall again. The gala. The same faces, the same laughter, the same chandelier light bouncing off Julian’s cufflinks. Seraphina’s eyes flashed with something sharp and hungry, and then she smiled, soft as cashmere, and held the necklace out to me. “Here, let me put it on for you.”

I stepped aside before she could reach me. She froze. Then the tears came, instant and perfect. “You don’t want it?” “I spent weeks going to St. Catherine’s for this. I prayed for you and Julian every single day.” “I get it though. I’m just the girl Julian took in off the street. Why would you want anything from me.” The women at the table were already whispering. “Wow. She goes to all that effort and can’t even get a thank you.” “That poor girl has nothing and she’s still thinking about everyone else. Honestly, it’s a little embarrassing for the actual wife.” I forced a smile and said I loved the thought, and I’d absolutely keep the necklace. But I was already wearing one tonight and it would look odd to switch mid-dinner. Seraphina wiped her eyes and looked at me like a kicked puppy. “I know mine’s nothing compared to yours. But I knelt on that chapel floor so long my knees were raw.” “Just try it on? For me? I promise it’ll look so pretty.” She wasn’t going to let this go. Right then, a young man stepped into the hall and approached Julian with a polite nod. “Mr. Thorne, sorry to interrupt. Mrs. Sterling asked me to come get Mrs. Thorne. She’s expecting her for tea.” My heart slammed against my ribs. Seth. The one who pulled my remains from a county crematorium and buried me with his own hands. He glanced at me, just for a second. Something careful in his eyes. I was about to use this as my exit when Seraphina latched onto my arm. “Oh, put the necklace on before you go. You don’t want to show up at Mrs. Sterling’s wearing something nicer than hers, do you?” She was already reaching for my neck with the chain. Seth spoke up. “Hang on. I feel like I’ve seen you before. Were you at the Harrington Group event last fall? I swear you were with their team.” Seraphina went still. Then she laughed, light and easy. “Oh no, you’ve got the wrong person. Julian rescued me. I don’t exactly run in those circles.” Seth let it go. I jumped in. “Mrs. Sterling’s waiting, I shouldn’t keep her. Seraphina, I’ll wear it tonight, I promise. It’s not going anywhere.” I turned to leave and Seraphina grabbed my wrist. “It takes two seconds. Why are you making this so hard? Unless you’re just trying to get away from me.” Then she stumbled sideways and crashed right into Seth. “Get off me! He just grabbed me!” She clutched her side and the tears poured down. The women at the table went off. “Did he seriously just put his hands on her?” “God, that’s vile. Someone get him out of here.” Seraphina was shaking, tears streaming, the whole performance pitch-perfect. “I don’t care where I come from, no one gets to touch me like that. I swear to God I’ll call the police.” She lurched toward the edge of the marble bar counter and Julian was on his feet in a second, pulling her into his chest. Seth backed up with both hands raised, palms out. “I didn’t touch her. She stumbled into me. My hands were up the whole time. I never made contact.” Seraphina buried her face in Julian’s shirt and sobbed louder. Julian’s jaw was locked. “Get him out. Now. Call security.” I stepped forward. “Julian, Beatrice Sterling sent him. This is going to get back to her.” He didn’t even look at me. Seraphina lifted her head from Julian’s chest, eyes red and wet. “Why are you taking his side? Unless you liked it when he touched you. Is that what this is?” Pure poison. She was putting the image in Julian’s head that Seth and I had something going on. Julian looked at me and his eyes went cold. Whatever I’d said about Beatrice didn’t matter anymore. I opened my mouth but Seth cut in, hands still raised. “Mr. Thorne, do whatever you want to me. But Mrs. Sterling is still waiting for an answer. Let me do my job and I’ll be out of your house.” Something inside me cracked. If I said one more word in his defense, it would look exactly the way Seraphina wanted it to look. Seth knew that. He was taking the hit so I wouldn’t have to. I was shaking. My eyes landed on the necklace in Seraphina’s hand and something clicked into place. She wanted to poison me and take my place. Fine. I’d give her a taste of her own medicine. I looked at Seth and wondered what he would choose.

I could hear them downstairs. Muffled voices, something heavy hitting something soft. Last life he carried my body out of a crematorium. This life he was getting beaten for me. What could I do for him? Get him out. Get him free. Give him the life he actually wanted. One of the housekeepers rushed in. “They’re still going at it. Seth passed out and nobody told them to stop.” My chest tightened. “What did Julian say?” “He’s with Seraphina. He hasn’t said anything.” Hasn’t said stop. Which meant they’d keep going until Seth couldn’t get up again. Seraphina wanted him silenced. He’d recognized her face and she couldn’t risk him remembering where from. I turned toward the stairs and Seraphina’s voice hit me from the end of the hallway. She was standing there with two of the older housekeepers flanking her like bodyguards. “If you go down there right now, you’re proving everything I said at dinner.” I almost laughed. “You’re right. Why would I care what happens to the help.” I glanced at the necklace still in her hand. “You still want me to wear that?” Her eyes lit up. She held it out like an offering. “You’ll actually put it on?” I took it from her and sighed. “Tomorrow’s the anniversary of my mother’s death. I’m going to St. Catherine’s to light a candle.” “If you really mean all this, come with me. Put it on me there, in the chapel. In front of God.” Something flickered in her eyes. Suspicion. But it was gone in a second, swallowed by the thrill of winning. She probably thought I was caving to save face after the scene at dinner. “Of course. I’ll go with you tomorrow.” She smiled. The same smile she had in my last life when she got what she wanted. I nodded and turned to walk away. “You’re not going downstairs?” “No.” Seth was already unconscious. Going down there wouldn’t save him. Begging for him would only hand Seraphina exactly what she wanted. But I had another way. Back in my room, I typed out a message and had someone deliver it to Beatrice Sterling’s office. Beatrice might not care about one housekeeper. But she cared about her reputation. Someone roughing up her staff at a party? She’d want a word about that.

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Five years ago, I think my life is finally getting fixed—until I find out the evidence that put my adoptive sister Felicity in jail for running me over… was all a lie. Five years ago it came out that my adoptive sister, Felicity, was the one who’d run me over. My parents and my fiancé, Sebastian, stood by me like a wall. Felicity was thrown out that very night. Sebastian made sure she went to jail. Fast forward five years. Christmas Eve. My parents are supposedly abroad. Sebastian says he has to work late—another lastminute excuse. I’m used to it. I feed his disabled sister, Sammy, then head out alone to buy groceries for Christmas dinner. As I pass a flower shop, I see someone I shouldn’t. Felicity—alive, smirking into her phone. “Yeah, I’m buying flowers for my husband. He’s sacrificed so much. I have to spoil him,” she coos. “He’s a CEO. No matter how busy he is, he comes home to me every single day. Five years of marriage, and he’s never asked me to lift a finger. Today’s Christmas. He canceled everything. He’s cooking dinner for me and my parents.” I look up. There he is—Sebastian—walking toward her with grocery bags. And behind him? My parents, the ones who were supposed to be in another country. Sebastian doesn’t see me. He smiles and hooks his arm through Felicity’s. “Hey, honey. Who were you on the phone with?” he asks. Before she can answer, my parents flock to Felicity. My mother presses a candy apple into her hand like she’s a child. My father pats her arm, sighing. “I know you and Sebastian have been married for years, but on paper… it still says Leah’s name. That’s not fair to you,” he says. “You’ve been so patient.” Felicity glows. “It’s not hard,” she murmurs. “As long as I have Mom, Dad, and Sebastian… I’m happy.” Her voice is all humility and suffering, and my parents rush to comfort her. I stay in the shadows, shaking. Felicity never went to jail. She’s been living in the same city as me this whole time. My parents never left the country. They’ve been with her. And my marriage to Sebastian? A lie from the start. I don’t remember how I walk away. I clutch our marriage license and head to City Hall. The clerk frowns. “Ma’am… this license is forged. There’s no record of it here.” “The man on this document, Sebastian Vance? He’s already legally married to someone else.” “Felicity Carter.” The paper slips from my fingers. My hand won’t move. I make it home somehow and push the door open. The place is wrecked. The room I cleaned that morning is covered in Sammy’s waste. The vase on the table is shattered. Sammy’s leg is cut and bleeding, but she doesn’t seem to feel it—she just sits in the mess, grinning at me. This is almost every day. Five years of living in a lie. Five years of drowning in this nightmare. Sebastian built his company from nothing and he’s obsessed with saving money. So no nurse. Just me, taking care of his sister fulltime. “She’s my only family left,” he told me. “You have to be careful with her.” Five years ago I was a rich girl with a bright future. Now I count pennies before buying vegetables. I don’t cry. I fetch water, clean Sammy up, bandage her leg, scrub the floor. Then my phone rings. Sebastian. “Make two extra fish dishes tonight. Bring them to the office. I’m feeding the staff who are working late.” His voice is an order—no please, no thank you—and he hangs up before I can answer. Fish again. Neither of us likes fish. After we were “married,” Sebastian barely ate at home. But every few weeks he asks me to cook fish and take it to his office. I should have known. Felicity loved fish as a kid. Back when we all lived together, my parents used to ask me to cook it for her. Funny. When they first brought me home, they held me and promised I’d never suffer again.

Before I turned twelve, the world felt like nothing but hell. A drafty room. Bare cupboards. Endless chores. Endless beatings. The man who “raised” me was a gambler. Every time he lost, he took it out on me—pressing his cigarette into my arm, laughing at my screams. The woman was no better; she beat me for fun and hated to see me rest. I worked from dawn until midnight. Then, when I was twelve, the Carters found me. Light for the first time in that basement. And my real parents standing over me. It was the middle of summer. My wounds were festering. I smelled like rot. But they didn’t recoil. They held me. Their tears were warm against my neck. That was the first time I ever knew warmth. When I came home with them, I learned I had an adoptive sister. We’d been switched at birth. The people who’d abused me were her biological parents. My parents were good to her. I didn’t mind—I was grateful just to be warm. And then Sebastian arrived like a god. I was behind in school, never properly taught, bullied at every turn. He stood in front of me. He protected me. He taught me what I’d missed. He helped me belong. At sixteen, under the old oak, we promised forever. So when did it all start to fall apart? When Felicity turned eighteen and began faking depression—threatening to kill herself every other week. After that, somehow, I became the villain in their story. My parents looked at me differently. “Leah, Felicity is sick. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” they said, and that was all. Sebastian drifted away too. He paid more attention to Felicity. When I argued, he only frowned and said, “You’ve been way too spoiled.” Then the accident five years ago. I’d just finished my PhD ceremony and walked out of the building. A truck hit me. Bones shattered. I almost died. One foot still bears the limp. My parents stayed at my bedside for a week. Sebastian went after anyone responsible. When evidence showed Felicity had hired the driver, I thought every wrong would finally be made right. I didn’t know then that everything they did was to protect her. I look in the mirror now—bloodshot eyes, a mess of a woman, no trace of the proud girl who clutched her PhD. My chest tightens. I think of Professor Davis—he wanted me as his assistant once—and guilt blooms. My phone buzzes. A text from him. Leah. I’m leaving for France in a month. You were always my best student. Before I go, will you come with me as my assistant? I didn’t cry when my marriage turned out to be a lie. I didn’t cry when I saw my parents hand Felicity candy apples. I didn’t cry through five years of this nightmare. But seeing my professor—the man who treated me like a daughter—still care? I break. I type back before I can think. Thank you. Yes. I’ll come with you. He’s handling the visa and the tickets. I need to pack. That’s when I realize how little I own. Five years. Not one new piece of clothing. Because Sebastian said, “Be frugal.” I’ve been living like a nonperson. I’m still packing when the door opens. Sebastian walks in. He sees the empty dinner table and frowns. “Leah. What the hell?” “Did you feed Sammy? Why isn’t the fish ready?” He fires question after question—none of them asking if I’ve eaten. I look at him. My face is blank. “Why should I do any of it?”

Sebastian’s face freezes. He looks at me like I’m a complete stranger. “What did you just say?” His voice is sharp. “What do you mean, ‘why should you’?” “Leah, have you lost your mind? Are you insane? Do you even hear yourself?!” He snaps out of it fast. Then he swings his bag right at my face. I turn my head just in time to take it on the cheek, but he’s already yelling louder. “I bust my ass every single day! Who do I do it for?!” “I asked you to make one stupid fish dish, and now you’re having a breakdown?!” I feel blood on my lip. It’s split open. I wipe it slowly. Then I look at him. Not quite smiling. Not quite not. “First of all,” I say quietly. “Was that fish really for your employees?” “Second. Sammy is your sister. Not mine. Feeding her? Taking care of her? That’s your job.” Then Sammy hears the yelling from the other room. She starts crying. Stumbling out of bed. She trips and falls flat on the floor. And then she just wails. Loud. Loud enough that the neighbors come out to see what’s going on. Sebastian doesn’t go help his own sister. His face just turns red. Embarrassed. “Leah,” he hisses. “You really want to do this in front of everyone?” I don’t flinch. I pull out our marriage license. And I tear it in half right in his face. “Do what? Finally see you for what you are?” I let out a quiet laugh. “God, I really had you wrong.” “We’re done.” I grab my bag and head for the door. But the neighbors block me. “Sweetheart, we’ve known Sebastian for years,” one of them says. “That man works so hard.” “It’s your job as his wife to support him. Take care of his sister. Don’t make a scene on Christmas.” A few older women snicker. “Sebastian’s a CEO,” one of them scoffs. “And you? What do you even do all day—sit around and live off him? You should be thanking your lucky stars he married you.” “Without him, what would you even do?” I feel sick. They don’t know. None of them know. Sebastian gives me a thousand a month and calls it “frugal.” I work three jobs just to pay for Sammy’s medication and all the household bills. I’m not even angry anymore. I just turn to Sebastian. “Hey,” I say. “Do you really think I’m your wife? Like they all just said?” “Because from where I’m standing… you already have a wife. And it’s not me.” Sebastian stares at the torn pieces of paper on the floor. For a second, his face goes pale. Then something clicks behind his eyes. He laughs. A nasty little laugh. “Oh, I get it,” he says. “You’re mad about the wedding. The ceremony. That’s what this is about.” He pulls out his wallet. Throws fifty dollars on the ground. “Here. Go buy yourself something sweet, hand it out to the neighbors—call it a celebration or whatever.” “I have work to do. I don’t have time for your drama.” He walks away. Fast. Like he’s running. I don’t say anything else. I just turn to leave. But then I see Sammy, still on the floor, crying so hard she can barely breathe. She didn’t ask for any of this. I sigh. Help her up. Walk her back to bed. And when I’m changing her clothes, something falls out of her hand. A photo. A small wedding photo. And in it? Sebastian. In a tux. Holding hands with Felicity. In a white dress. Sammy sees the picture and lights up. “Lici!” she says, grinning. “Lici’s wedding! Lici gave Sammy candy!” I freeze. So much for being “too busy for a ceremony.” So much for “saving money” and “not caring about tradition.” They had a wedding. A real one. And I never even knew. Even Sammy was there. For five years, she’s never once said Felicity’s name like that. With happiness. Now she’s looking at a picture of Felicity with Sebastian… and smiling. The last bit of warmth inside me goes dark.

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