The day Andy Blackwood tried to force me into a divorce for that actress—again—I finally gave in. His hand, holding a cigarette, paused mid-air. A half-smile, mocking and cold, played on his lips. “What’s this? So compliant this time?” he drawled. “Realized throwing tantrums gets you nowhere? Trying a new tactic, are we?” I slid the wedding band from my finger and placed it on the table between us. My voice was steady. “No. I’m just done fighting.” 1 A long silence stretched between us before Andy stubbed out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray. Leaning back against the wall, he spoke with a lazy, calculated drawl. “You know, there’s no real rush. It’s just… Lily’s career is taking off right now. And your constant harassment is becoming a real nuisance.” I didn’t answer him. Instead, I picked up the pen and, with deliberate, steady strokes, signed my name on the divorce papers. Only then did I look up. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.” Andy’s posture tensed for a fraction of a second, his thoughts hidden behind that cool facade. After a moment, he pushed himself off the wall, a new, barely perceptible edge of irritation in his voice. “Good. See that it doesn’t. Otherwise… you know the consequences.” An involuntary shiver ran down my spine. The last time he’d pushed for a divorce, I’d completely shattered. In a fit of rage and despair, I’d leaked the explicit photos Lily had sent to taunt me. But Andy had turned the tables, suing me for defamation. His fans had doxxed me, forcing me into a humiliating public apology. I remembered standing in the courtroom, listening to the verdict in his favor. Andy had watched my breakdown with the detached amusement of a spectator at a show. Then, with a raised eyebrow, he’d leaned in and whispered, “Darling, are you satisfied with the outcome?” It’s strange. The memory used to suffocate me, a crushing weight of pain and humiliation. But now, thinking back on it, I felt nothing but a cold, distant irony. As I walked out of the mansion with my suitcase in hand, I glanced down at the plane ticket. It was only then that the full weight of it hit me. I was finally letting go of the love that had brought me to my knees. 2 On a massive billboard towering over the city square, Lily was the face of a luxury lipstick brand, her smile confident and dazzling. The image merged with the memory of the spiteful girl who had clawed her way into my life, flashing her victory in my face. Andy had been right about one thing: Lily’s career was skyrocketing. The scandal with the explicit photos hadn’t hurt her. If anything, it had helped. Fans praised her for her ‘brazen honesty,’ hailing her as some kind of modern, empowered icon. But the first time I discovered Andy’s affair, it wasn’t from the tabloids. It was from Lily herself, a deliberate, vicious provocation. I had raised hell, making sure the entire Blackwood clan knew about his sordid affair. In those days, the other society wives, my supposed friends, all offered the same advice. Be gracious. Forgive and forget. Turn a blind eye. But I couldn’t. The hate was a poison in my veins. I hated Andy for his betrayal, but I hated him even more for turning me into this hysterical, screaming madwoman, while he paraded his mistress around town without a care in the world. I refused to give in. I refused to let them win. Then the paparazzi caught them checking into a hotel. The story exploded. To protect Lily’s reputation and career, Andy made a calculated move: he went public with their relationship. The tabloids splashed their fairytale romance all over the headlines: ‘The Tycoon’s Heir and the Silver Screen Starlet.’ The story broke me. I stormed into Andy’s corporate office, a woman possessed. He tried to get Lily out of there before the scene got ugly, but that only fueled my rage. I snatched an ashtray and hurled it at him, splitting his forehead open. Blood streamed down his face as I screamed that he was scum, filth from the gutter. When it was all over, his face was a cold mask. “You’re right!” he finally spat out. “I am scum! I did cheat! If you can’t handle it, then divorce me!” The word hung in the air between us, stunning us both into silence. But I was the one who broke it, my voice rising to a new, wilder pitch. “Why should I divorce you?!” I shrieked, more unhinged than ever before. “Why should I make it easy for you and that little tramp?! No, Andy. You and she can live with the titles you’ve earned: adulterer and mistress. Forever.” 3 We were at a standoff after that. Andy stopped coming home altogether. The only glimpses I had of his life were through Lily’s smug Instagram posts, each one a perfectly curated new stab to my heart. Beaten down from every side, I made a desperate, last-ditch decision to burn it all to the ground. I posted our marriage certificate online, exposing their affair for the lie it was. But before the story could even gain traction, Andy struck back. He found my mother’s specialist, a renowned doctor, and paid him an exorbitant sum to cancel his trip from Europe, effectively holding her life-saving treatment hostage. Then he gave me an ultimatum: tell the world the marriage certificate was a fake, or my mother would pay the price. When I heard the news, the blood drained from my face. I was so stunned I didn’t even register the triumphant smirk on Lily’s face as she stood beside him. My voice was a ragged, broken cry. “Andy, you know her condition is critical! You know this could kill her! How could you be so cruel?” He remained unmoved, calmly lighting another cigarette. He waited until my sobs subsided and I was nothing more than a crumpled heap on the sofa. Only then did he extinguish the flame. “Darling,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. “Don’t ever expect me to go easy on you. Now, go and clear this up. Don’t ruin her.” In that moment, my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. I was drowning, a fish gasping for air on dry land, suffocating in a world of absolute despair. I couldn’t believe the man standing before me was the same one I had once loved with my entire soul. That was the day I truly decided it was over. 4 But the humiliation was far from finished. My mother couldn’t wait. I had no choice but to surrender. I went online and confessed to the world that the marriage certificate was a fake, that I was a jealous, delusional liar. To this day, the comment section of that post is a cesspool of hatred. “Damn lady, are you that desperate for a man?!” “Psycho bitch. Dare to spread rumors that my goddess is a mistress. You’ve got no shame.” “Someone slap some sense into her.” “Crowdfunding it. I’ve got five bucks.” “I’ll put in ten.” … I walked through the following days in a haze, a zombie going through the motions. I escaped into the sterile quiet of the hospital, sitting by my mother’s bedside. Perhaps she sensed my despair. Even without seeing the news, she knew something was deeply wrong. One afternoon, she took my hand and, with a heavy sigh, began to talk about the past, about Andy and me. A young love, she called it, the purest kind. In high school, Andy had been so smitten with me, yet so insecure, he’d never dared to confess. He’d just follow me home from a distance every day, my silent protector. Then came the day a group of thugs cornered me. Andy threw himself between us without a second thought. They beat him mercilessly, breaking three of his ribs, but he never let go, shielding me with his own body. After that, we fell in love. It was as natural as breathing. Back then, Andy hadn’t been a Blackwood yet. He was just the poor kid who lived with his grandmother, the ‘charity case’ who never had enough to eat. It was my mother who helped him, who treated him like a son, who even paid his tuition fees. Now, my mother’s past kindness was the weapon he was using against her. She had no idea what her daughter was enduring. I looked at her face, growing more frail each day, and thought, Just let it be. At least I still have her. At least I’m not completely alone. But fate, it seems, takes a cruel pleasure in tormenting the unfortunate. 5 When the call came from the hospital—my mother was in critical condition—I ran, frantic. But I didn’t even make it off my street. Lily’s fans were waiting for me. They’d doxxed me, found my address, and now they surrounded me, a self-righteous mob demanding justice for their idol. I couldn’t break through. Panic clawed at my throat as I tried to explain, my words lost in their jeers. No one believed me. “Pathetic. Still living in your little fantasy world, aren’t you?” “You were so tough when you were slandering our goddess. Who are you crying for now?” In the chaos, someone shoved me hard. “Shameless bitch! Apologize now!” I stumbled and fell hard onto the pavement. Someone snickered. The sharp pain in my knee was nothing compared to the crushing defeat in my soul. I gave up. Like a marionette with its strings cut, I got to my knees and began to apologize to their phone cameras, over and over again. “It was my fault. I was delusional.” “I’m so sorry. I hurt Lily. I was wrong.” “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Their crusade won, the mob finally dispersed, laughing as they walked away. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” But by the time I scrambled into a cab and raced to the hospital, it was too late. For a dizzying second, I thought I was trapped in a long nightmare. A nightmare where I would wake up and still be a little girl, safe in my mother’s arms. Before Andy. Before my life had been trampled into dust. But reality delivered its final, fatal blow. I had chosen the wrong man, and in doing so, I had missed my mother’s last moments. 6 That day, I knelt beside her bed and cried until there were no tears left, just a hollow, aching void… The nurse who had cared for my mother told me her last words. “She kept calling your name at the end,” the nurse said gently. “She said that no matter why you didn’t make it, she didn’t blame you. She just wanted you to be happy, to live a good life with your husband.” I held my mother’s cold hand, sitting numbly on the floor, unable to speak for a long, long time. The days that followed are a blur. The flight back to my hometown, the cremation, the funeral. Finally, I was sitting alone in the quiet funeral parlor. I picked up my phone and made one last call to Andy. He should at least pay his respects to the woman who had thought of him, even on her deathbed. When he answered, I realized my voice was a raw, unrecognizable croak. “My mother passed away,” I managed to say. But the voice that answered wasn’t his. It was Lily, her tone bright and carefree. “Oh, congratulations!” she chirped. “But Andy’s a little busy right now. We’re at his ultrasound appointment.” In the background, I heard Andy’s muffled voice. “Who is it?” I hung up, my hand going numb. I sat there in the silent hall all night, watching the incense burn down to ash. Then, I calmly flew back to the city. I bought a plane ticket. Liquidated my assets. And I agreed to the divorce. 7 The past was finally in the past. Sitting in the airport lounge, waiting for my flight to board, I launched my final counterattack. I was never one to go down without a fight. I packaged up the corporate intel I’d gathered and sent it straight to Andy’s biggest competitor. A moment later, a notification confirmed a very large sum of money had been deposited into my offshore account. Only then did I feel a sense of peace. Online, the storm of hate against me was still raging. On any social media platform, you could find my face photoshopped into grotesque memes. And Lily’s post, the one playing the victim, was still pinned to the top of her profile, from the day I was forced to retract my story. “LilyOfficial: The truth will always come out. You can throw all the mud you want. I’ve never been afraid of a fight!” The comments below were a chorus of sympathy. “My heart breaks for you and Andy having to deal with this psycho.” “This is what a real, strong woman looks like! The ones who use dirty tricks to ruin a girl’s reputation don’t even deserve to be called women!” “Lily is too kind. I would have sued that bitch into oblivion.” A bitter, humorless smile touched my lips. 8 Next, I bundled up every taunting message and voicemail Lily had ever sent me and forwarded them to her biggest rival in the industry. A little outsourced revenge. Just as I was about to turn off my phone for good, it rang. It was Andy. “Forgot to mention, the mandatory 30-day cooling-off period is ticking. If you’re thinking of changing your mind… it’s not out of the question. But you’ll have to do something to make me happy.” His voice was the same as always—lazy, arrogant, utterly self-assured. So certain that I could never let him go. I glanced at the boarding time on my ticket. “Got it,” I said, my voice flat. Then I hung up on him and walked onto the plane. (Andy’s POV) That was the first time Ava had ever hung up on him. Five days had passed, and Andy was still stewing. He untangled himself from Lily’s limbs, got out of bed, and pulled on a coat. He was going home to check on things. Lily wrapped her arms around him from behind, draping herself over his back. “Andy, stay a little longer,” she purred. He turned his head slightly. “Don’t say anything to Ava about the pregnancy yet.” Lily pouted. “You’re already getting a divorce. What are you so afraid of?” A flicker of irritation crossed Andy’s face. “There are still twenty-five days left. That’s not a divorce.” He pushed her away, dressed, and drove back to the house he shared with Ava. He hadn’t been back in nearly a week, and the silence was unsettling. A knot of anxiety tightened in his chest, growing worse when he saw the kitchen was pristine, completely untouched. He threw open the bedroom door and started rummaging through the closets. Finally, he found what he was looking for in the trash can. A wedding ring. The day they signed the papers, Ava had placed it on the table for him. He hadn’t taken it. Deep down, he never believed she would actually go through with it. Even if she signed, she’d come crawling back sooner or later. After all, Ava loved him. Andy picked up the ring, carefully wiping the dust from its surface. He’d bought this ring when he was nineteen, working three jobs—tutoring, construction, food delivery—for three straight months to afford it. It meant everything to him, and to her. She must have dropped it in the trash by accident. 9 Andy stood up and looked at the wedding portrait hanging on the wall. Ava was twenty-two in the photo, her smile as bright as the sun. Come to think of it, Lily was only in his life because of Ava. He could never forget the Ava who had dazzled him at eighteen, the girl who lit up his bleak world. Back then, he was poor, uncivilized, a nobody. Ava had been his entire world, his only source of warmth. Then the Blackwoods had found him. He shed the label of ‘bastard’ and was reborn as an heir, a man of power and influence. And he got the girl he’d always dreamed of. But Ava changed. She lost the carefree spirit of her youth and became just like all the other society wives—prim, proper, and painfully dull. He knew, logically, that she did it for him. She came from a simple background, and to marry him, she had to fit in, to not embarrass him. So, while he was disappointed, he still loved her. Until Lily appeared. She was so much like the old Ava, a vibrant echo of the girl he’d first fallen for. It was only natural that he’d be drawn to her. The first time he’d mentioned divorce, the words had just slipped out. He’d regretted them instantly. The other times he’d brought it up were just to scare her, to make her stop being so damn difficult. Compared to other men in his circle, he was practically a saint. He only had Lily. Ava’s histrionics were completely out of proportion. She was being ungrateful. Besides, he’d never really wanted to divorce her. As long as she behaved, showed a little more tolerance, he would eventually come back to her. He always did. Andy pulled out his phone, deciding to be the bigger person and call her. Maybe smooth things over. But the call wouldn’t connect. He’d been blocked. He frowned. That couldn’t be right. In all the years of his affair with Lily, through all their worst fights, Ava had never once blocked him. Before he could figure it out, his phone rang. It was Lily. “Andy, Ava leaked our stuff to my rival’s PR team! My socials are flooded with bots, and the narrative is starting to turn against me. What do I do, Andy? I’m so scared. How can she be so vicious? Does she really want to destroy me?” Listening to her frantic sobs, Andy’s brow furrowed in annoyance. Ava was pulling the same stupid stunts again. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? He remembered the look on her face last time—pale, defeated—as she asked him how he could be so cruel to her mother. A flicker of something stirred in his chest. He thought of her mother, the woman who had been so kind to him when he was a boy. The truth was, he had just been bluffing. Even if Ava had refused to retract the statement, he would never have let the woman die. But Ava had complied. She had been good. “I know. I’ll handle it.” He hung up, in no mood to comfort Lily. He decided he would go find Ava. If she agreed to fix this mess, he’d call off the divorce. He’d even take her on that trip she’d always wanted, the one he’d promised her for their honeymoon. He’d promised, but right after the wedding, he was too busy proving himself to his family, clawing his way to the top. By the time he finally had the freedom, their relationship was in shambles. He had gone on that trip, though. With Lily. She had found out about his promise to Ava and whined until he gave in. He remembered the look on Ava’s face when she found out. A terrible, broken thing, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. A strange tightness gripped his chest. He tried to call Ava’s mother, but the line was disconnected. Annoyed, he called Ava’s best friend. A moment later, his face paled. “What do you mean, she sold everything and emigrated?!” 10 “Impossible! She would never leave me!” Andy roared into the phone, but then he forced himself to calm down. Ava’s mother was still in the hospital. She would never abandon her mother. He immediately called the doctor’s office, but the man on the other end sounded confused. “Mr. Blackwood, I’m already back in the States.” Fury surged through Andy. “You’re back in the States? Who’s taking care of my mother-in-law?” The doctor’s tone was even more confused. “But the patient passed away last month, didn’t she?”
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