Category: English

I lay in a hospital bed covered in blood after a car accident. My father muttered, “Money loser, we’re broke…” Then he picked up his phone, excitedly praising my brother: “Great job, son! First place in the class gaming tournament? Dad’s coming home to celebrate!” When he left me alone in the hospital, I wasn’t surprised. I even laughed at myself for the flicker of hope I felt when I first saw him, thinking he might actually be worried about me. Under the angry yet sympathetic gazes of the medical staff, I didn’t feel helpless or sad. I was just thinking about how to get the doctor to give me more anesthesia for the surgery. Because it hurt so much. Just then, an elegant couple walked into the ward, led by the hospital director. They said I was their daughter, switched at birth. Compared to their excitement and joy, I seemed rather calm. I only asked one question. “Will you pay for my surgery?” “Will you pay for my college tuition?” After getting affirmative answers, I called them directly. “Mom, Dad.” It didn’t matter if they truly loved me. I didn’t ask about the girl who was switched. When Grandpa Joe was still alive, he told me that in this life, you can only rely on yourself to be invincible. So all I have to do is live well. Use them as a stepping stone to climb up. 1 The surgery went well. I was transferred to a VIP room for post-op observation and recovery. These were the most comfortable and quiet days I could remember. It was in this hospital room that I learned my biological father was William Sterling, chairman of the famous Sterling Group in this state, and my mother was Eleanor Vance, the eldest daughter of Vance Electronics. Turns out, two months ago, when I worked part-time as a greeter at a Sterling Group event, I was earning my own family’s money. What was the theme of that banquet? Oh, right, it was to celebrate the 18th birthday of the Sterling Group’s only daughter. It was so grand that financial news and entertainment news across the state were scrambling to report it. As an outdoor greeter, I wasn’t even qualified to enter the venue, shivering in the early spring wind. After Grandpa passed away, no one remembered my birthday, let alone a coming-of-age ceremony. Peeking through the cracks at the fragrant clothes, shadows, clinking glasses, and blessings inside. At that time, I thought, look at her, loved by thousands, and look at me, peeking at the princess’s happiness like a rat in the sewer. Worlds apart. That day was also my unnoticed 18th birthday. When I got home that night, I faced: “Where the hell have you been? Don’t you know to come home and cook?” “Your brother is about to take his high school entrance exams. What if he starves?” “Money loser. We should have given you away when you were born, saved us money.” Hearing this, I sneered in my heart. They wouldn’t have been willing to give me away. When I was born, the area where we lived was being demolished for redevelopment. To get an extra apartment allocation based on headcount, they registered me. And if it weren’t for Grandpa insisting, my name on the birth certificate wouldn’t be Grace, it would have been “Asset.” But I wouldn’t argue back because that would make them angrier, and my adoptive father would hit me. I’d suffer too much. That’s the experience I’ve summed up over the years. Don’t speak, just do the work silently, and it will pass. At that time, my only hope was the SATs, to test into a college far, far away. Knock, knock. A gentle knock sounded. My biological parents walked in, followed by a tall, handsome young man in a suit. “Grace, this is your brother. We came together to pick you up.” As I guessed, this was the crown prince of the Sterling Group, Liam Sterling. I had long heard that this prince spoiled his only sister excessively, giving her the moon if she asked for stars. Of course, that sister wasn’t me. Watching him stride over, looking reserved, his gentle tone slightly stiff. “Grace, I’m your brother.” I looked up, smiled slightly, and said softly, “Brother.” When I was bullied by classmates, seeing other brothers protecting their siblings, I also longed for a brother. Liam was stunned for a moment when he heard me call him, then relaxed. “Mom, Dad, and I discussed it and felt it’s better to visit your adoptive parents’ home.” “We investigated what happened back then. It was an accident.” “They raised you after all. And about Bella… she’s still abroad…” I looked at their guilty faces, their eyes dodging mine but full of love. For the sake of this love, I tentatively said, “They treat me bad…” “Grace,” I was interrupted by Liam before I could finish. “Your adoptive family isn’t exactly poor based on my investigation. Raising you for eighteen years deserves gratitude.” Seeing the slightly disapproving looks from my parents behind him, I fell silent. So this love wasn’t just for me. It was more for the daughter they had loved for eighteen years. Judging me as ungrateful and vain based on an unfinished sentence. Fine. “Okay, let’s go now.” 2 With their surprised expressions, I got out of bed holding my bandaged left arm and left the room. Since the love isn’t exclusive, I’ll use your guilt to fill the gap. It was lunchtime when we arrived at the Zhou house. I unlocked the door and went in first. The family of three, eating fish and meat, paused when they saw my sudden intrusion, then continued eating as if nothing happened. “Just in time. Go wash the clothes in the bathroom.” “Mom, I told you she has secret money. Look, she got out of the hospital fine without us giving her a cent.” “Damn girl, always out. Who knows how you earn that money? Disgusting.” I stood there, a look of horror on my face, shrinking back in fear. Seeing me stand still, my adoptive father’s face darkened. “What are you standing there for? Didn’t you hear your mother tell you to wash clothes?” I whispered fearfully, lifting my arm slightly. “I… I just got out of the hospital. My injury hasn’t healed. I can’t hand wash. Can I use the machine?” As soon as I finished, my adoptive mother’s harsh voice followed. “Does the machine run for free? Don’t you have another hand?” “I…” Seeing I wanted to speak again, my adoptive father’s temper flared. He threw his empty bowl and walked towards me under the gloating gazes of my adoptive mother and brother, Tyler. Raising his hand to hit me. I quickly squatted down, holding my head, chanting non-stop. “I was wrong, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have talked back.” “I won’t dare again. Dad, don’t hit me, don’t hit me. I’ll wash the clothes right now, by hand.” As expected, the slap didn’t land on me. Liam, who came in a step later, grabbed my adoptive father’s arm and pushed him aside. My parents surrounded me to comfort me, eyes full of heartache and guilt. Seeing the sudden intruders, my adoptive mother quickly got up to support my adoptive father. She screeched, “Who are you people?” Seeing my parents comforting me, she realized and cursed at me. “Bitch, bringing outsiders home to bully your parents, huh?” “Raising you is worse than raising a dog. Should have thrown you in the river to drown.” Next came money loser, slut, uneducated—whatever was ugliest, my adoptive parents said it. I was confused. They didn’t know I wasn’t biological yet. Why could they insult and beat a daughter so extremely, yet spoil a son so extremely? Especially incomprehensible was my adoptive mother. She was a woman once too. Why did she become the executioner hurting her younger “self”? I thought she was bound by old-fashioned thinking and had no choice. Later, I realized she was just bad. Narrow-minded. If she suffered, her daughter must suffer too. Even double the suffering. When I was little, I got good grades and awards, longing for her love and praise, but got ignored and mocked. From childhood to adulthood, the nastiest words came from my adoptive mother first. Now I’m immune to these curses. I can ignore them and do my own thing. But my biological parents looked terrible, and my brother clenched his fists in anger. Oh well, I achieved the desired effect, exceeded expectations even. Next, I didn’t need to do anything. I just had to be scared. This feeling of having family protecting me in front was nice. I once longed for it. Now? It’s optional. It’s no longer a necessity for my life. And this love was calculated. I don’t think it will belong to me completely in the future. There’s still a Sterling family princess they raised for eighteen years. Hearing I wasn’t their biological daughter, my adoptive mother wanted to make a scene, but my adoptive father sized up my parents and quickly started negotiating terms. My brother rubbed my hair and said gently, “Go pack your things with Mom.” “Dad and I will handle this.” I nodded timidly and went to my room under Mom’s pitying gaze. 3 The renovated storage room. One side for junk, one side for my bed, an old wardrobe, and a desk. That was it. I saw Mom’s red eyes, pretended not to see, and packed. When she saw me stuffing faded jeans and jackets into the worn suitcase. She couldn’t hold it back anymore. She walked over and threw everything in my hands onto the narrow bed. Her voice choked. “Grace, no more. Leave these. Mom will buy you new ones.” I looked up in confusion. “But these aren’t worn out yet. I can still wear them.” Mom’s lips trembled, unable to speak. She hugged me, tears wetting my shoulder. My shirt was wet. When I changed, I was wearing a sports bra, and I heard sobbing behind me again. “Grace, what happened here?” Mom pointed at the burns on my back and arms. Before I could speak, the door opened. Father and Liam stood there looking at my scars. The air went silent. My adoptive father followed, squeezing in when he saw no movement. Yelling loudly, “What are you doing? Hurry up and leave, then send the money.” Then seeing me, he froze for a second, then got angry. “Damn girl, what are you looking at? Didn’t you do that yourself?” Then he reached to grab me. I flinched slightly and spoke with difficulty. “Yes, I did it myself by accident.” My brother stepped forward, pushed him out of the room, and roared, “Behave if you want the money! Is my sister someone you can shout at?” Father’s eyes were red too. “Grace has suffered.” I shook my head and didn’t speak. In the car back, I was still thinking. It went smoothly. At least with my biological parents’ help, I can completely get rid of this rotten family. My silent contemplation was mistaken for shock. “Grace, it’s our fault. We shouldn’t have brought you there.” “It’s our fault. If we found you earlier, you wouldn’t have suffered so much.” “Grace, don’t worry, Brother will get revenge for you.” “From now on, with Mom and Dad here, no one dares to bully you again.” Looking at the unconcealed guilt and love in their red eyes, it would be a lie to say I wasn’t touched at all. But only a little. Revenge? I can take it myself later. Suffering? It’s all in the past. The car stopped. Standing before the “Jade Palace No. 1” I had only heard about in gossip at banquets. For the first time, I felt the extreme gap in this world so directly. I lowered my eyes. I’m a little tempted. I am one of the heirs to this boundless wealth and power. “Sir, Madam, you’re back.” The butler led the servants out to greet us. Seeing me surrounded, he hesitated. “This is the Second Miss. Take good care of her from now on.” Father said as he led me inside. The surrounding servants bowed and said yes. As soon as I entered the hall, I looked up and saw the girl standing by the stairs. The girl I swapped lives with for eighteen years. 4 She was beautiful. Exquisitely noble, raised on money and power. Now she looked like a broken doll, eyes red and swollen. The moment she saw us enter, tears fell like pearls. Truly pitiful and lovable. Her voice trembled as she pointed at me. “Mom, Dad, are the rumors outside true? Are you abandoning me now that you brought her back?” Hearing this, Father frowned and scolded. “Bella, no manners. This is your sister’s home. Of course we bring her back.” Bella looked incredulous. “Dad, you yelled at me?” Then she turned and ran upstairs, shouting with a sob. “Fine, I’m not biological anyway! I’ll leave now! I won’t be an eyesore!” Father opened his mouth but said nothing, grunting and heading to the study. My brother looked at me apologetically. “Bella is spoiled. Grace, don’t mind her. I’ll go check on her.” Then he ran to comfort Bella. Seeing Mom looking back anxiously, I spoke sensibly. “Mom, go comfort Sister too.” Mom paused. “Grace, you’re a good child. Mom will go check, be right back.” She turned and hugged me, then went to comfort Bella too. The family that was just fussing over me instantly surrounded another girl. Leaving me standing alone in the hall. Worthy of the golden branch and jade leaf pampered for eighteen years. Deep feelings, hard to let go. I understand. I lowered my head. Does it matter? No hope, no disappointment? But my heart was uncomfortable. The butler stepped forward. “Second Miss, your room is this way. Let me show you.” “Thanks.” The mother who said she’d be “right back” didn’t show up all afternoon. I didn’t have the mind to think about this family affection for now. I couldn’t pin my future life on these relatives. So at dinner, seeing only Father at the table, I ate quietly without throwing a tantrum. After eating, I spoke. “Dad, can I get a tutor? The SATs are in a month.” “I’m afraid I won’t adapt if I go to school now. can I study at home with a tutor?” Father was stunned, then nodded. “Just tell Butler Li. He’ll arrange it.” “Good child, ask for whatever you need. If Dad isn’t here, find Butler Li.” I smiled shyly. “Thank you, Dad.” Seeing my obedience, Father sighed in relief, patted my shoulder hesitantly, and went to the study. After washing up with the maid’s help, just as I was about to lie down, there was a knock. Opening the door, it was Mom. “Grace, Bella has a bad temper. Please bear with her.” “You just arrived. Want to take a walk with Mom, get familiar?” I nodded and went out in my pajamas. Bella was still standing at the stairs, eyes still red, but I saw the smugness and provocation in her eyes clearly. I nodded and smiled at her. “Sister came out too?” Mom turned to look. “Why are you out? Go back to sleep. Your eyes are swollen like walnuts.” Bella quickly composed herself, smiled obediently, and went back to her room. The night breeze blew gently, bringing a hint of coolness. Jade Palace No. 1 lived up to its name. “Grace, Mom wants to discuss something with you.”

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The day I discovered I wasn’t a true Sterling—the day the lie of my life unraveled—was the day I stopped fighting. No more frantic calls to check his whereabouts, no more hysterical accusations. I became the quiet, obedient wife Nate Sterling had always wanted. My father’s warning echoed in my mind, cold and sharp. “Other heiresses have their families to fall back on after a divorce. You? An imposter? What will you have left?” So, I behaved. Even when I found a half-empty packet of morning-after pills in his coat pocket, I pretended I saw nothing. After all, when you’re fighting for survival, who has the energy for heartbreak? But when Nate saw me playing dumb, his expression didn’t soften with relief. It hardened into something I couldn’t read. 1 As I took Nate’s blazer from him, a small box tumbled out and clattered onto the hardwood floor. My gaze flickered to it for a single, searing second before I looked away. It was a box of emergency contraception. “You dropped something,” I said, my voice carefully neutral as if I hadn’t seen the words on the packaging. “I’ll go start the laundry.” I tried to turn away, but his hand shot out, his fingers closing around my wrist like a steel trap. I looked back. Nate was tall, his presence always commanding. He had a strong brow and a straight nose, framed by impossibly long lashes. From this angle, looking up at his sharp profile, he was pure intimidation. A knot of familiar anxiety tightened in my stomach. “These pills belong to Jessica,” he began, his voice low. “She’s been under a lot of pressure with the new project, and it’s messed with her cycle. Her doctor prescribed them.” He let out a tired sigh, the usual sharpness in his eyes clouded with exhaustion. “We were out with clients last night. The dress she was wearing didn’t have pockets, so she asked me to hold them for her. I just got so busy I forgot to give them back.” He met my eyes, his grip on my wrist loosening slightly. “There’s nothing going on between us. I swear.” It was the most he’d explained himself to me in years. It had to be because of the divorce papers I’d thrown at him a few weeks ago. When I remained silent, he pulled out his phone. “If you don’t believe me, I can ask her for the prescription records.” A faint smile touched my lips. “Don’t be silly. It’s such a small thing, there’s no need to bother her.” Nate froze, his eyes searching my face. “Then just now, you were…?” I knew what he was asking. I offered the perfect explanation. “I was just wondering if I should run them over to her now. We wouldn’t want to delay her treatment.” I added a thoughtful pause. “But it’s so late. It’s probably better if you give them to her tomorrow. I’ll go put the clothes in the wash.” Without waiting for a response, I slipped from his grasp and hurried away. That was close. I almost let the mask slip. My father’s words were a constant mantra: In a world of wealth and power, feelings are a liability. Profit is everything. Instead of worrying if he loves you, you should be worrying about what happens to a fake heiress like you if he leaves you. But as I turned my back, I didn’t see the shadow that fell across Nate’s face, his expression turning dark and unreadable. 2 I was deep asleep when the bed dipped beside me. Nate slid under the covers, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me tight against his chest. His warm breath ghosted over the back of my neck. “Our fifth anniversary is coming up,” he murmured. “I’ll take you to see the Northern Lights. In Iceland. Like you’ve always wanted.” My body went rigid. He’d made the same promise for our last anniversary. He’d canceled at the last minute for Jessica. “We’ll see,” I mumbled into my pillow. The arms around my waist tightened instantly, painfully. I let out a small hiss and instinctively tried to pull away. “Why?” His voice was a low growl, pinning me in place. “You always wanted to see the auroras with me. You said kissing the person you love under the Northern Lights was the most romantic thing in the world.” My eyes were closed, my voice barely a whisper. “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t waste time on pointless things like that.” I faked a yawn. “Besides, the anniversary is still a few days away. Let’s talk about it later. I’m so tired, Nate. I need to sleep.” I let my breathing even out, pretending to drift off. The truth was, I’d already seen the Northern Lights. I booked the ticket the night I found out I was a fraud. A trip like that costs a small fortune, upwards of thirty thousand dollars. I figured I’d better enjoy the Sterling money while I still could. As for the heartbreak? That could wait. 3 When I woke up the next morning, Nate was already gone. I checked my phone. A message from him was waiting. Meds are on the counter. Don’t forget to take them. I have a congenital heart condition. Back when I was still the prized Sterling heiress, no one wanted to marry me. The disease was a death sentence; I could drop dead at any moment. Marriages in our circle were business transactions, and what good was a merger if one of the assets was fatally flawed? A widower was damaged goods on the marriage market. But Nate had wanted me. And even though I was an heiress, my family wasn’t exactly a united front. My father, for all his social standing, had an entire soccer team’s worth of illegitimate children scattered around. When my family realized my only value—a strategic marriage—was compromised by my health, they couldn’t even be bothered to pay for my treatment. The rich aren’t generous by nature. They are lavish with those who benefit them and ruthlessly selfish with those who don’t. But Nate didn’t care about my condition. He fought his parents, ignored the gossip, and married me in the most extravagant wedding the city had ever seen. The first thing he did after we were married was find me the best cardiac specialist in the country. Two years ago, I finally had a transplant. I was slowly, carefully, recovering. Everything was supposed to be perfect. But somewhere in the last five years, everything had changed. Nate started coming home later and later. His shirts smelled of a perfume that wasn’t mine. His phone was suddenly off-limits. I told myself to endure it. My father was a misogynist who believed women had no place in business, so I’d never learned how to manage a company. I couldn’t help Nate with his work. All I could do was be a supportive wife. Don’t worry about it, I’d tell myself. It’s just work. Then, his childhood friend, Jessica, returned from overseas. And started working at his company. Nate admired her. He praised her sharp business acumen, her cool, strategic mind. He was a man of few compliments, but he would praise her openly, repeatedly, in front of everyone. Slowly, the whispers started. Jessica Hayes and Nate Sterling. They’re the real power couple. Rumor had it they were supposed to have an arranged marriage years ago, but it was suddenly called off. She went abroad to chase her dreams; he stayed to build his empire. My friends warned me to be careful. I told them they were just friends, colleagues. It was impossible to avoid each other at work. Then Nate’s actions made a fool of me. This was a man so ruthless with his time that when I was burning up with a fever from COVID, he told me to “hang in there” until he closed a deal before taking me to the hospital. Yet when Jessica let out a single sneeze in a meeting, he walked away from a ten-million-dollar contract to personally drive her to the clinic. It kept happening. During the day, his time belonged to his work; he told me not to distract him with too many texts or calls. After work, his time belonged to Jessica; he told me he needed his personal space, that I couldn’t control his friendships. Every time he chose her over me, I wanted to scream, to talk it out, to make him understand. But there was no talking. He never gave me the chance. One night, I refused to let him leave. I stood my ground and told him how much his relationship with Jessica hurt me, how many lines they had crossed. I thought maybe, finally, we could fix this. His response was a cold splash of water on my hope. “We’re just friends,” he said, his tone flat. “If something was going to happen between us, it would have happened long ago. It wouldn’t have waited for you.” That shut me up. He was right. In every conceivable way, Jessica was better than me. I fell silent and let him walk out the door to go to her. Then came the party. A gathering with the other corporate wives. One of them, with a malicious glint in her eye, showed me a photo on her phone. Under the soft glow of a streetlight, Nate was holding a drunk Jessica in his arms. In his other hand, he carried her high heels. 4 Nate hated drinking. He hated the way alcohol made people lose control, and he despised drunk people. For his last birthday, everyone wanted to toast him. He couldn’t refuse them all, so as his wife, I drank for him. Glass after glass. But my tolerance is terrible. The mix of red wine and whiskey sent me reeling. I spent half the night hugging the toilet, so drunk I couldn’t even lift a finger. I remember weakly asking him to help me to the shower. Nate had just frowned, looking down at me with disdain. “You wreak of alcohol,” he’d said. “It’s disgusting. I’ll have the maid help you.” But the man in the photo showed no disgust. His eyes were soft, his movements gentle, as if he were holding the most precious treasure in the world. The Sterlings and the Hayes were both powerful families. The photo went viral in our circles. Overnight, Nate and Jessica became the star-crossed lovers reunited, and I became the city’s biggest joke. It was noon the next day when Nate finally came home. “Where were you last night?” I heard myself ask, my voice numb. He didn’t seem to notice the iciness in my tone as he shrugged off his jacket. “Working late.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. “Working late? At Jessica’s place?” He stopped, his brow furrowing. “What are you on about now?” I held up my phone, the photo burning on the screen. My eyes were red-rimmed with unshed tears. “You’re the one who’s lost his mind! You hate the smell of alcohol, remember? But you looked pretty happy holding her!” My voice cracked. “You don’t hate the smell of alcohol. You just hate it on me.” “If you don’t love me, Nate, why did you ever marry me?!” My rage boiled over. I grabbed the nearest thing—a ceramic mug on the table—and hurled it against the wall. It was the mug we’d made together on our honeymoon. Nate, who always preferred minimalist, monochrome designs, had treasured that garish, colorful thing. He’d used it every day, ignoring the smirks from his staff who whispered he was being childish. 5 The sound of shattering porcelain echoed in the silent room. I barely registered it. “It’s only been a few years, Nate! Couldn’t you wait a little longer? If you’re tired of me, just divorce me! What’s the point of all these lies?!” He ignored me, his attention fixed on his phone, thumbs flying across the screen as he replied to a message. Only when he was done did he look up, his expression chillingly calm. “So? Is this what your interrogation is about? You’re making a scene over something this small?” “Small?” The word was a strangled gasp. “What else would you call it?” His voice grew sharper, his eyes filled with a weary annoyance. “Bonnie, every single one of our fights comes from your insecurity and your lack of trust in me. If that’s the case, what is there left for me to explain?” My hands clenched into fists. The anger I’d been swallowing for months erupted. I twisted the diamond ring off my finger and threw it at him. “Then get out! Let’s get a divorce!” The ring hit the floor and rolled under the sofa. Nate’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Then, without another word, he turned and slammed the door behind him. I collapsed onto the sofa and cried for a long time. When the tears finally stopped, I started to pack a suitcase. As I moved the sofa cushions, my hand brushed against a piece of paper. It was a sketch. A drawing of me, smiling brightly. Around the neck of my portrait was a necklace I had never seen before. A sudden thought struck me. I pulled up the security camera feed on my tablet. 3:00 AM. Nate had come back. My heart skipped a beat. He came back? And I never even knew? On the screen, I watched him walk into the living room and see me asleep on the sofa. He moved quietly, fetching a blanket and draping it gently over me. I expected him to go upstairs and shower—he was a neat freak, always needing to wash away the outside world the moment he got home. Instead, he pulled a chair over and sat beside me. He took a sketchpad and pencil from his briefcase and began to draw. He drew for two hours. Just as he finished, the me-on-the-screen shifted in my sleep. Nate jumped, thinking I was waking up, and quickly hid the drawing under the cushion. When he saw I was still asleep, he visibly relaxed, then finally went upstairs to shower. But he didn’t go to our bedroom. He left the house again, heading back to work. So he had come back. He had been here. I just didn’t know. I stared at the drawing in my hand, a wave of guilt and confusion washing over me. Since our marriage, Nate’s father had dumped the entire Sterling empire on his shoulders. He was constantly overwhelmed, running on four or five hours of sleep a night. And yet, he had used two of those precious hours for me. To design something I’d once mentioned in passing. I remembered saying it jokingly when we got married: “It’s a shame you gave up design. I was hoping you’d make me a necklace one day.” 6 My fingers tightened around the sketch. After a long moment of hesitation, I found his number in my blocked list and unblocked it. I’m sorry. I was wrong. Nate, can we please talk? I don’t want to fight like this anymore. But he didn’t reply. I told myself he was just busy at work and put my phone away. I carefully gathered the broken pieces of the mug and began painstakingly gluing them back together. Then I went to the kitchen and cooked all his favorite dishes. Midnight came and went. Nate didn’t come home. He didn’t reply to my text. Fearing a repeat of the night before, where he’d come and gone while I slept, I made myself a cup of black coffee and sat on the sofa, forcing myself to stay awake. But the sun rose on an empty house. Nate never came back. Exhausted, I finally gave up and went to bed. When I woke up, it was already afternoon. I immediately checked the security footage, my heart pounding with anticipation. I watched for three hours. The footage showed nothing. From the moment he’d slammed the door yesterday to now, he had not returned. A deep, numbing cold spread through my chest. I decided to go to his office. The receptionist stopped me at the front desk. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling, but I can’t let you up without an appointment.” I stared at her, bewildered. “You know who I am. Why do I need an appointment?” She looked genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s Mr. Sterling’s policy. Everyone needs an appointment. That includes you.” She was just doing her job; I couldn’t blame her. As I turned to leave, I overheard two employees whispering nearby. “So that’s his wife? She’s got nothing on Ms. Hayes.” “I know, right? She’s his wife, but she needs an appointment to see him!” “Seriously. Meanwhile, Ms. Hayes can walk into his office without even knocking.” My feet froze to the floor. The dull ache in my chest sharpened into a piercing pain that made it hard to breathe. It was all so ridiculously humiliating. I had walked right into it. It wasn’t my imagination. It wasn’t a misunderstanding. Nate’s feelings for Jessica were real. So obvious that even his employees could see it. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice steady. The two women stiffened, turning around slowly. “Mrs. Sterling? Can we help you?” Their smiles were plastered on. I didn’t comment on their gossip. I glanced at their name tags—one read “Megan,” the other “Laura.” “Actually, yes,” I said softly. “I was hoping you could do me a favor. Could you give your boss a message for me?” “What is it?” Laura asked, her curiosity piqued. I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice from trembling, to keep the tears from falling. “Just tell him I want a divorce. And that he needs to come home tonight to sign the papers.” 7 The lobby fell into a sudden, dead silence. The two employees stared at me, their jaws slack with shock. Without waiting for their reaction, I turned and walked away. After calling my lawyer to draft the divorce agreement, I went home and started packing. There was too much to take, so I only packed a few essential clothes and personal items. Nate came home at four o’clock. I handed him the papers. “Sign it.” He paused for only a second before picking up a pen and scrawling his signature on the line. “Fine,” was all he said. Not a single word more. Compared to my agonizing struggle, he was as cold and detached as a stranger. With the papers signed, we went to the courthouse. But there was a mandatory 30-day “cooling-off” period before the divorce was final. If either of us changed our minds in that time, the process would be voided. To prevent myself from having a moment of weakness and running back to him, I moved out of our home and went back to my parents’ house. My mother thought it was just another fight and offered a few placating words. When she realized I was serious, she tried to talk me out of it. “The Sterlings are at the top of their game right now, Bonnie. Are you really going to let another woman walk in and take everything you have?” I didn’t listen. My mind was made up. There was no going back for me and Nate. Because I hated him. I hated his arrogance, his coldness, his deception. But my hatred didn’t last long. A few days later, a bombshell dropped that sent my world into a black hole. I was not my parents’ biological daughter. 8 The year I was born, a massive earthquake had struck the region. In the chaos, my birth parents were killed. The real Sterling daughter also died in the disaster. And I, an orphan, was mistakenly identified as their child and rescued. My world shattered. But the most devastating blow was the swift, absolute cruelty of my adoptive parents. They showed no mercy. They cut off all my credit cards, threw me out of the house with nothing but the clothes on my back, and publicly announced that I was not a true Sterling. Penniless, I wandered the streets that night. I was looking for a cheap motel when a group of drunk men cornered me in a dark alley. Their leering eyes and slurred taunts closed in on me. I screamed and fought, adrenaline coursing through me, and managed to break free and run. Shaking and terrified, my first instinct was to call Nate. The call connected, but it wasn’t his voice that answered. It was a woman’s, light and cheerful. “Nate’s asleep right now. May I ask who’s calling?”

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The day before my best friend Sierra Rhodes’ wedding, I was kicked out of the bridal party group chat. “We’re full up on bridesmaids, and with your recent breakup, you’re too much of a bad luck charm. Best you sit this one out, sweetie.” I stared at the message, then at the six-figure contract I’d personally fronted for her bespoke, over-the-top dream wedding, and a laugh bubbled up—a cold, sharp thing. I had spent the better part of a year pulling strings and calling in every favor I had for her. And this was my reward: being called a “bad luck charm.” She seemed to have completely forgotten that I was the true general contractor and silent financial backer of this entire event. The celebrity caterers, the platinum-tier MC, the vintage Rolls-Royce motorcade—all of them had signed contracts with my name on the line, doing me and my father a professional courtesy. I was the legal contact, the on-site director, and the one who had paid all the deposits. This entire wedding, from conception to execution, was inextricably linked to me, not to her, the bride. I didn’t panic. I didn’t rage. Instead, I quietly took screenshots of every remaining contract—the final payment terms for the catering, photography, and the car service—and dropped them into our wider circle group chat. An hour later, over a dozen vendors announced a service suspension for the next day, citing a complete inability to contact the new “Head of Client Relations.” That night, she showed up on my doorstep in her custom-made silk robe, weeping, begging me to make the wedding continue. 1 It was close to eleven P.M. when my phone screen flashed violently on the nightstand. I picked it up and saw a gray system notification—a stark, icy block of text staring back at me. “You have been removed by group admin ‘Sierra Rhodes’ from the chat ‘The Phoenix Brigade.’” I stared at the line of text, my mind a complete blank for a few suspended seconds. This was the core bridal party group. Tomorrow was her huge, high-society wedding. I tapped the chat, and the app confirmed: “You are no longer a member of this group.” Immediately, my friend Lexi Shaw’s private messages started flooding in. A cascade of stunned question marks hit my screen. “???????????????” “Aubrey Miller! What the hell is going on? Am I seeing this right?” “Sierra just kicked you—the Maid of Honor—out? The day before the wedding?” I took a deep, shaky breath. My chest was tight, and my fingers trembled slightly as I typed. I replied to Lexi: “It’s real. Just happened.” Lexi’s voice call popped up instantly. I hit “Decline.” I didn’t want to talk, not a single word. Her voice message followed, her tone high-pitched with outrage, impossible to contain. “Is she insane, Aubrey! This isn’t even using you up and throwing you away—it’s warp speed betrayal!” “No! I’m going into the group now! She can’t just kick you out! She has to explain this!” I typed a reply, calm despite the internal chaos, each word feeling like it cost me a piece of my soul. “Lexi, don’t. It won’t help.” Lexi couldn’t process it. “Why? You’re just going to take this massive insult?” “She kicked me out because she wants to cut off communication.” “She chose the night before the wedding because she knew I’d have no time to react.” “This wasn’t a mistake. This was premeditated.” Silence on Lexi’s end. A minute later, she sent a screenshot. It was the bridal party chat, showing a new announcement Sierra had posted. “@Everyone, Little change of plans, girls, sorry!” “Ethan’s cousin absolutely insisted on being a bridesmaid, and with family pressure, I couldn’t say no.” “The spots are full. And well, you all know Aubrey just went through that breakup, and her vibe is a little… off right now.” “A wedding is a joyous occasion. I didn’t want her to feel worse or bring any bad juju, so I just told her to rest up, okay?” “See you all at the hotel tomorrow. Love you all!” Below the announcement, a few other bridesmaids had already chimed in: “Got it!” and “So thoughtful of you, Sierra!” Lexi’s next voice message was shaking with pure fury. “Aubrey, did you see that? She replaced you with her future husband’s cousin! And she called you bad luck for being newly single! How dare she say that after everything you’ve done?” “Every single detail of this wedding—whose hands built it? Whose money paid the deposits?” “You fronted over fifty thousand dollars for the planning alone! She hasn’t paid you back a penny!” “She used you for your connections, squeezed you dry, and is now kicking you to the curb without even bothering to come up with a decent lie!” The words Lexi sent buzzed in my head. For her “Gilded Age Grandeur” themed wedding, I had spent half a year of my life and burned through every favor I owed. The archival-quality Ming Dynasty-inspired gown she had to have? I pulled strings with a museum curator friend. The fleet of vintage Hongqi cars? I had my father leverage his exclusive business association connections to secure them. The top-tier wedding planning firm, The Imperial Events Collective? I used a personal favor with the CEO just to skip the waitlist. Now, the wedding was ready. The curtain was about to rise. And I, the orchestrator, was tossed aside for being “newly single” and a “bad luck charm.” I saved the screenshot of the ice-cold system notification and the one of Sierra’s sickeningly false public announcement. Then, I tossed my phone aside and buried my face in my pillow. 2 Lexi’s voice messages continued to ping, her anger a hotter flame than my own. “I can’t let this stand! Aubrey, you’re seriously going to let her get away with this?” “She’s doing this because you’re hurting and she thinks you’re an easy target!” “After all you sacrificed for her, she isn’t just ungrateful, she’s actively stepping on you!” “You have to confront her! You can’t let her walk down the aisle in peace!” I reached out from under the comforter, found my phone, and leaned against the headboard. The initial shock and raw sting had subsided, replaced by a deep, bone-chilling calm. I typed my reply to Lexi: “She removed me so I couldn’t confront her.” “If I call her now, she’ll hide behind that fake ‘I was just looking out for you’ narrative.” “Showing up and making a scene will only make me look like a hysterical joke and give her exactly what she wants.” Lexi was frustrated. “Then what? Just let her win? The thought of her getting her happy ending makes me sick!” I stared at the dim light on the ceiling, a slight, humorless smile touching my lips. “Lexi, we are absolutely not letting this go.” Lexi replied instantly: “Okay, what’s the plan? Tell me! I’m in!” I didn’t reply. I didn’t call Sierra to demand an explanation, and I didn’t reach out to her fiancé, Ethan Blackwood, to cry about my hurt feelings. I simply opened my laptop and found the dedicated folder I had created for her wedding. Inside was the culmination of six months of meticulous work. Contracts for over a dozen vendors: planning, photography, the designer gown, the vintage motorcade, the venue… Every single one listed my name and my contact information as the primary client representative. Every contract had the final payment date clearly stamped: The day before the wedding. That is, tonight. I had paid over fifty thousand dollars in deposits, and the remaining balance—just over a hundred thousand dollars—was stipulated in the contracts to be settled by the couple on the eve of the event. I took crystal-clear screenshots of the most critical page of each contract: the Client Representative and the Payment Clause. Then, I opened a group chat called “The Inner Circle.” This was the main chat for our entire social group—hundreds of our closest friends and acquaintances. Crucially, the groom, Ethan Blackwood, and his mother, Linnea, were prominent members of this group. One by one, I sent the dozen-plus contract screenshots. Slowly. Deliberately. After the final screenshot, I typed a caption, my words cool and utterly detached. “Good evening, everyone. Apologies for the interruption. Regarding Sierra Rhodes and Ethan Blackwood’s wedding scheduled for tomorrow: The above are the contracts for all vendors I was managing as the lead coordinator.” “To date, I have personally paid the deposits totaling $50,888. All outstanding final balances were due tonight by 10 P.M.” “I’ve just been informed by the bride that I am no longer involved in any wedding arrangements. Could the new coordinator please contact the vendors immediately to avoid any disruption tomorrow?” “@SierraRhodes @EthanBlackwood. Wishing you both a wonderful wedding.” After sending the message, I muted the chat. A year ago, Sierra had cried to me that her biggest dream was an extravagant, buzz-worthy wedding. She said Ethan’s family had the money but didn’t want to be too ostentatious. It was me, her “best friend,” who had taken the entire burden on. I’d told her: “Don’t worry about the money or the connections. I’ll handle it. You just focus on being the most beautiful bride.” Now, she was about to be the most beautiful bride. And I was the “bad luck charm” she had discarded. Lexi’s private message was instantaneous: “AUBREY! You posted it in the main group?! You absolute legend!” “I saw it! The chat just exploded! Ethan’s mom’s face must be white as a ghost right now!” Lexi added: “My guess is his mother, Linnea, was the one who hated that you were recently single and thought you were bad luck. Sierra threw you under the bus to score points with her in-laws!” “That woman will do anything to marry into that family!” I smiled slightly, not replying. Sierra’s good fortune was about to take a sharp turn. I closed my eyes, pulled the covers up, and went to sleep. 3 The next morning, I woke to a barrage of urgent phone calls from unknown numbers. I ignored the first few. But one kept calling relentlessly. I finally answered, staying silent. A panicked male voice came through the speaker: “Hello? Is this Ms. Miller? It’s Derek Kim from The Imperial Events Collective!” I gave a simple, flat “Yes.” Mr. Kim sounded on the verge of tears. “Ms. Miller, what in the world is going on? Our entire team is waiting at the venue, and we can’t get hold of the bride or groom!” “After your message last night, we called Mr. Blackwood. He said he’d handle it, but now he’s not answering!” “The final contract balance—thirty-eight thousand dollars—is still unpaid! We can’t set up the ballroom! Is this wedding still happening?” My tone was perfectly calm. “Mr. Kim, I am no longer the coordinator. You need to contact the couple directly.” “But we can’t! They’re not answering calls or texts! Ms. Miller, we took this job as a personal favor to you! You can’t just walk away!” I cut him off. “I apologize, Mr. Kim. I’m just an uninvolved guest now.” “The contract clearly states that the final payment is the responsibility of the couple. If they are in breach, you need to follow your legal protocol.” I hung up. The second and third calls immediately followed. “Hello? Ms. Miller? It’s Leo from the photo team! We’re supposed to start the getting-ready shots at five! We don’t even know which suite the bride is in!” “Aubrey! It’s Frank from the car team! Those vintage Rolls-Royces your dad secured—the drivers are waiting! We haven’t been paid the final sixteen thousand, and we can’t start the engines!” “Ms. Miller…” I declined every call, one after the other, and finally set my phone to reject all unknown numbers. Lexi was sending me a live-feed “broadcast” from The Inner Circle chat. The group was in utter chaos. Mr. Kim posted an all-caps message, tagging the couple. “@EthanBlackwood @SierraRhodes. Is the wedding proceeding today? Our staff and equipment are waiting outside the venue. We will be forced to pull out and leave the premises in thirty minutes!” Leo, the photographer, was equally frantic: “@SierraRhodes! Bride! If you don’t appear, your morning robe, first look, and leaving-the-suite photos will all be canceled!” Frank, the car team leader, was blunt: “@EthanBlackwood, Mr. Blackwood, when will the final payment be settled? If we miss the designated start time, who is accountable for the liability?” A dozen vendors were blowing up the chat. Sierra and Ethan, however, had completely vanished, not a single word of response. The friends and relatives in the chat were completely bewildered. “What is going on? The couple can’t be reached on their wedding day?” “Aubrey’s contracts show over a hundred thousand is unpaid? I thought the Blackwoods were rolling in cash!” “I heard Aubrey was kicked out of the bridal party, and she’s not coordinating anymore.” “Why would they kick out the one person running the show? That’s insane!” Finally, Ethan’s mother, Linnea Blackwood—the woman I called Auntie Lin—chimed in. She posted an overly cheerful, awkward emoji. “Oh, don’t worry, everyone! The kids are just being young and had a little spat last night. Their phones must be off!” “The money is absolutely not an issue! I’m heading to the venue now to sort it out! Please, everyone just wait a few minutes!” She thought she could solve everything just by showing up. She thought that simply throwing money at the problem would reset everything. Lexi messaged me: “Aubrey, Ethan’s mom is trying to spin this. She’s trying to save face.” I replied with two words: “Delusional.” The heart of this wedding was never the money. It was me. It was all the favors, relationships, and trust I had leveraged. Mr. Kim replied to Linnea immediately in the group chat: “Mrs. Blackwood, with all due respect, the money is secondary. Our team only recognizes Ms. Miller as the lead client. All logistics, details, and design specifications were negotiated directly with her.” “We cannot guarantee the final result with an impromptu change in leadership. We will not be liable for any issues that arise!” Leo backed him up: “Exactly! We follow Ms. Miller’s direction. She knew every key moment and shot list!” Frank was even more direct: “Mrs. Blackwood, those vintage cars were secured based on a personal favor to Mr. Miller. Now that Ms. Miller has stepped away, our drivers are refusing to proceed. They don’t want the risk.” Linnea was completely blindsided, and then, immediately enraged. “It’s just money! Just do the job! I’ll make sure you are all paid handsomely!”

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Sneaking back into the country, two weeks ahead of schedule, I found a stranger in my home. She was draped in my mother’s silk dressing gown, wearing a necklace that belonged to the Shaw family—a piece of heirloom jewelry. When her eyes landed on me, she pointed a freshly manicured finger right at my face and spat fire. “Did you sanitize before you dared walk into my house? I’m carrying the Wells Fortune’s golden grandson, and lowlife trash like you isn’t fit to breathe the same air!” “Mr. Peterson! Get the disinfectant wipes! Sterilize this tramp and whatever cheap takeout she brought with her!” I stared at the unfamiliar woman, my mind blank with a shock so profound it stole the air from my lungs. It took an age before I managed to grind the words out. “This is Robert Wells’ house. The CEO Robert Wells. Am I wrong?” Her eyes went wide, not with fear, but with venomous indignation. She swung her hand, a stinging slap across my cheek. “Another desperate hussy trying to hook my husband, are we? Get her out! Throw her onto the street!” I was hauled out and dumped onto the manicured lawn of Greenwich, Connecticut. I numbly reached for my phone and called my mother. “Mom, you need to come home. Dad didn’t just cheat; he had a son, and now that son is about to have a baby of his own.” 1 I hung up, my hands shaking not from fear, but from a terrifying cold resolve. I turned back toward the imposing Georgian mansion, shoving my way past the startled staff and storming back into the foyer. I grabbed the woman by her hair—my mother’s emerald silk brushing against my knuckles—and ignored her thrashing screams. I kneed her, hard, then shoved her bodily out the same front door. “You keep shouting about the Wells heir. Fine. Let me tell you something: Robert Wells doesn’t have a son. He only has me, his daughter, Anya Wells!” The woman, sprawled on the porch steps, scrambled up, her face a mask of disbelief and rage. She lunged, trying to claw at me. “Everyone knows the head of Wells Industries and his wife have a marriage for the ages! He announced he was leaving his entire fortune to his only child and even got a vasectomy to prove his devotion! Only a moron would do all that for a daughter when he could have a proper heir! The Wells child is a son, and he is my darling husband!” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. The absurdity was staggering. “Alright, then. Call your ‘darling husband.’ Bring him here for a confrontation. I want to see exactly who has the balls to occupy Anya Wells’ place.” She snatched up her phone, ready to dial, then paused. Her eyes narrowed, raking over my high-end travel clothes, my expensive but slightly rumpled appearance. She sneered. “The tricks these gold-diggers use now are truly pathetic.” My frozen expression must have convinced her. She nodded, her voice dripping with condescension. “You trash. You must be some stray trash Brendan picked up. Now that you’ve heard I’m pregnant, you’re here to cause a scene, hoping to drive a wedge between us so you can slide in. It’s not going to happen.” I was almost laughing, a sharp, bitter sound, at her twisted logic. “I told you. I am Anya Wells, Robert Wells’ daughter. The Wells family has no son. We never have.” “If you don’t believe me, go up to the second-floor sunroom. That’s my bedroom. The walk-in closet has a hidden room. The code is my birthday: 1011. There are journals and records of my entire childhood in the top drawer.” “If that isn’t enough, call out the staff. Ask them who they recognize: me, the true heiress, or you, the poor fool who got scammed into marrying an imposter.” She wavered, clearly thrown by the specificity, but quickly regained her composure. “Brendan and I had an engagement ceremony witnessed by both sets of parents. We’re having the wedding today! My father-in-law, Robert Wells, personally gave me an eight-million-dollar black card at the party. There is no mistake!” “Everyone! Come out and look! Does anyone recognize this lunatic?” My heart sank, confirming my initial chilling suspicion. If this whole scenario wasn’t a mistake, the problem lay with one person: my father, Robert Wells. The kitchen and cleaning staff began to emerge, wiping their hands on aprons. They looked at me, then back at the woman, and shook their heads one by one. “Apologies, Ma’am, we’ve never seen her before.” I looked at them, a hollow ache spreading through my chest. Not a single familiar face. The staff who had raised me, the people who had been fixtures in my childhood, were all gone. To replace the entire domestic team in a house this size? Only one person had the authority and the motive. The woman, whose name I didn’t yet know, puffed out her chest, vindicated. “There you have it. Trespassing, attempted robbery, and slander. Get her! Let’s show this pathetic little tramp who she’s messing with!” The staff immediately surged toward me. I was outnumbered, a rain of fists and feet assaulting me. I tasted blood, and my vision swam. Then, the main door creaked open again. A hurried, panicked voice cut through the chaos. “The Butler said we had an intruder! Tinsley, are you hurt?” I focused on the newcomer. He was handsome, in a slick, forgettable way, dressed in an impeccably tailored tuxedo. I didn’t recognize him, either. Brendan Cole. Brendan immediately spotted me, bloodied on the floor. His face contorted in a furious snarl. “You have a hell of a nerve!” he roared. “I am Robert Wells’ only son and heir! You dare attack my fiancée and the mother of my child! I will make sure you never see the light of day again!” He was spitting his words, desperate to tear me apart. I pushed myself up, maintaining a cold dignity despite the pain. “You claim to be the CEO’s son. Where is the proof?” I demanded. “This is my house. You two broke in, set up shop, and tried to steal my life. I want to know who gave you the authority to do this.” Brendan stopped short, momentarily stunned. He then let out a laugh of pure disbelief. “Lady, are you high? You’re the daughter? Who the hell doesn’t know that Robert Wells took a solemn oath on the day his child was born? He said his entire life, and all of his billions, would go to his one and only heir. Who would do that for a daughter? That’s laughable.” “This isn’t about you staking a claim. You heard Tinsley was pregnant, and you thought you could use the commotion to get my attention. Well, guess what? She’s carrying a boy. No one can touch her position!” Tinsley melted into Brendan’s arms, deeply moved. “Oh, darling, you are the best.” Watching their sickening display, my fury spiked. “I’m telling you, I am the only heir to the Wells Fortune.” Brendan shoved Tinsley away and took a step toward me, his hand raised. “My father, Robert Wells, is a public figure. He kept me out of the spotlight all these years to protect me—not to give a raving lunatic like you a chance to impersonate me!” He yanked out his phone. “I’m calling my Dad right now. Let’s hear straight from him whether he had a son or a daughter!” My stomach dropped as he dialed the familiar number. He put the phone on speaker. The next second, Rob Wells’ voice, loud and booming, came through. “Son! My boy! Dad’s at the venue setting up the final details for your wedding. Is everything alright?” Brendan gave me a smug, triumphant look. “Yeah, Dad, fine. Just a quick question: Do I have any siblings?” My father’s voice, a little too loud, a little too reassuring, replied. “You goofball. What are you thinking? Your father had a vasectomy for you! How could you possibly have a sibling or a—a half-sibling? When I’m gone, this entire empire is yours. Relax.” The hatred in my chest reached a boiling point. I shouted my father’s full name—“Robert Wells!”

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On our wedding anniversary, my husband, Colonel Ethan Cole, told me he had an emergency deployment. I smiled as I watched him leave, then turned and opened the GPS tracker on his car. The location wasn’t The Base. It was St. Jude’s Women’s Center, the best fertility and obstetrics hospital in the city. I logged into the hospital’s security camera system. On the screen, he was carefully guiding a fragile-looking woman, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never once seen directed at me. The woman touched her stomach, asking sweetly, “Ethan, have you picked a name for the baby yet?” Ethan said, “How about Haven? To memorialize our love.” A glacier formed in my chest, solid and unmoving. Just then, my phone rang. It was the command center calling, asking about Ethan’s location. I looked at the couple on the monitor, so deeply engrossed in their lie, and pressed the speaker button. My voice was eerily calm as I replied: “Report, Commander. I suspect my husband, Colonel Ethan Cole of Special Operations, may have compromised classified information and potentially gone AWOL.” 1 The words caused both the officer on the phone and Ethan on the screen to freeze simultaneously. Over the phone, the voice of Commander Davies, Ethan’s direct superior, instantly hardened. “Audrey Stone, repeat that statement.” On the monitoring screen, Ethan’s phone rang. He saw the caller ID, his face draining of color, and quickly hung up. Then, without a moment’s thought, he called my private line. I didn’t answer. I just spoke into the phone, every syllable precise and distinct. “Report, Commander. Ethan left this morning citing an emergency deployment but appeared at St. Jude’s Women’s Center. His movements are suspicious, he is refusing to answer the secure military line, and I suspect he may be a flight risk.” My voice was quiet, yet it felt like a detonated charge. Commander Davies was silent for a full five seconds. “Audrey Stone, stay exactly where you are. Do not move. Secure your location. We are mobilizing immediately.” The order was swift and absolute. I hung up and watched the monitor. Ethan was in full-blown panic. He abandoned the woman, Willow Price, frantically calling my number while sprinting toward the hospital entrance. Willow cried out pitifully behind him, “Ethan, where are you going? Our baby…” He didn’t look back. The warmth and patience in his eyes were entirely gone, replaced only by a desperate terror and raw aggression. But it was too late. In less than ten minutes, several olive-drab military SUVs roared to a stop, sealing off every hospital exit. Heavily armed soldiers leaped out, their movements swift and their presence intimidating. They stormed into the lobby and located their target instantly. “Colonel Cole, you’ll need to come with us!” The muzzles of their rifles were pointed directly at him. Ethan raised his hands, his face pale as paper. He was pinned against a wall, his hands cuffed behind his back by two soldiers. As they marched him through the lobby doors, he saw me. I was standing just outside the glass entrance, watching him with cold indifference. His eyes dilated. It was as if he’d seen a ghost, or the most unbelievable nightmare. “Audrey!” He roared, his face contorted in a snarl. “Are you insane! What the hell are you doing! I’m being framed!” I simply gave a desolate laugh. Yes, I knew he wasn’t being framed for treason. He hadn’t compromised national security. He was just, on our anniversary, while I was preparing a surprise, helping his mistress name their bastard child. He was just an adulterer. But why should I explain for him? When he lied to me, and to his command, while wearing that uniform, did he ever consider that this day might come? The soldiers didn’t give him another chance to shout. They roughly shoved him into one of the vehicles. The woman, Willow Price, was also taken away, ostensibly for “protective custody.” She was shaking with fear. When she passed me, she suddenly lunged forward like a madwoman. “You! You did this to Ethan! You poisoned bitch!” Two female soldiers quickly restrained her. I looked at her tear-stained face and her slightly rounded stomach. “Haven.” I breathed the name softly. Willow’s face went instantly white. “To memorialize your love, right?” I smiled, a smile so broken my eyes were stinging with unshed tears. “It really is a lovely name.” The commotion around me faded into irrelevance. The world had turned into a monochrome blur. Ethan Cole, the game has begun. You destroyed my love. I will destroy everything you are proud of. 2 I was taken back to The Base, not as a spouse, but as a “key witness.” I was met by Commander Davies, a man in his late forties whose quiet demeanor nonetheless commanded authority. He personally poured me a cup of hot water. “Audrey, don’t be nervous. Please detail the situation you discovered today.” I held the mug steady. “Today is my and Ethan’s three-year anniversary. This morning, he claimed he had an emergency deployment and rushed out. I knew something was wrong immediately.” “How so?” Commander Davies pressed. “He wasn’t in uniform, and he took his personal SUV. When he left, I saw a crumpled piece of paper fall out of his pocket—it was a registration slip from St. Jude’s Women’s Center.” I pulled a wrinkled paper from my pocket. Of course, he hadn’t dropped it. I’d recovered it from the trash can in his home office. He thought he’d cleaned up all his tracks. He didn’t know that ever since I became pregnant, my sense of smell had become abnormally acute—and that I’d caught the scent of a perfume that wasn’t mine. From that day on, I stopped being a wife and became a hunter. Commander Davies took the slip, his expression increasingly grim. “Why did you suspect him of something as serious as compromising his post?” This was the critical question. I lowered my eyes, introducing a carefully modulated tremor of distress and injury into my voice. “He’s been acting very strangely lately. He frequently takes encrypted calls late at night, and he’s been using a second computer secretly in his office. When I asked, he always dismissed it as classified material.” “As a military spouse, I respect the rules; I don’t ask what I shouldn’t. But today… he lied about an emergency mission just to take another woman to an OB-GYN appointment. Commander, if he’s willing to deceive his own unit and his wife, what else is he capable of?” My words were a skillful blend of truth and lies. He did have a second computer, but he used it to play online games with his mistress. He did take calls late at night, but it was Willow calling to complain about morning sickness and to seek comfort. I had seen all of this through the hidden cameras I’d installed in our home. But I couldn’t say that. I needed to muddy the waters. Commander Davies’ brows furrowed into a tight knot. “Do you know the woman he was with?” “No,” I shook my head, “but I gained access to the hospital system and found her name: Willow Price.” “You have hacking skills?” Davies looked surprised. “My degree is in cybersecurity,” I answered calmly. This was my trump card. I hadn’t just hacked the hospital; I could also recover all the deleted files and chat logs from his “game computer.” Commander Davies fell silent. A Special Forces Colonel, acting secretly, deceiving his command, and intimately involved with a woman of unverified background. And his wife, a cybersecurity expert, had reported him. Each element was a shocking headline in itself. “Audrey Stone, the information you’ve provided is critical. We will begin an immediate, full-scale investigation. In the meantime, for your own security, you’ll need to stay at the Base Annex.” “I understand. I have only one request.” “Go on.” “I want a divorce.” My tone was resolute, without the slightest hesitation. “Regardless of the investigation’s outcome, this marriage is over.” Commander Davies looked at me, his eyes clouded with complicated emotion. “Understood. The organization will support your reasonable petition.” As I walked out of the office, the sun was shining brightly outside. But I felt only coldness. My phone vibrated with a text from an unknown number. Audrey, you bitch! You destroy Ethan, and my mother will make you pay! It was Ethan’s sister, Sienna Cole. I deleted the text without emotion and blocked the number. This was just the start. Immediately, my phone rang again. It was my mother-in-law, Evelyn Cole. The moment I answered, the line was filled with a torrent of curses. “Audrey! What kind of sick, twisted monster are you! What did Ethan ever do to deserve this! You are a curse, a jinx! I should never have allowed you to marry my son!” I listened quietly. When she finally ran out of breath, I spoke softly. “Mom, before you scream at me, maybe you should worry about your unborn grandchild.” The other end of the line went instantly silent. “You… what do you mean?” “Ethan was at the hospital for his mistress’s prenatal checkup. She’s three months pregnant. Oh, and they already picked out a name: Haven.” “To memorialize their love.” With every word, I could imagine the blood draining from my proud mother-in-law’s face. “You’re lying! That’s impossible! My son would never do such a thing!” she shrieked. “You’ll find out soon enough.” I hung up, letting out a long, slow breath. The knot of tension in my chest eased, if only fractionally. Ethan Cole, you thought your family was your fortress? Soon, they will become another pillar collapsing on top of you. 3 I settled into the Base Annex. While it was technically a guest quarter, the security was top-notch, with soldiers on guard twenty-four hours a day. I understood it was both protection and surveillance. Until Ethan’s name was cleared, I, the “first informer,” couldn’t move freely either. It suited me perfectly. I needed an absolutely safe and quiet environment to plan my next move. The investigation team came for me the next day. This time, in addition to Commander Davies, there were two sharp-eyed, serious men in plain clothes. They were from Internal Affairs, specializing in security clearances and internal probes. “Audrey Stone, we’ve reviewed the hospital footage and conducted initial interviews with Colonel Cole and Willow Price. Colonel Cole insists this is merely a moral lapse, a personal failing, which is why he panicked.” One of the men spoke, his pace measured, his gaze like a hawk. “Willow Price also claims their relationship is purely romantic, and she knows nothing of his work.” “Is that so?” I raised a subtle brow. “Purely romantic?” I took a USB drive from my purse and placed it on the table. “Inside is all the data I recovered from Ethan’s ‘game computer.’” “It includes the chat logs from the moment they met, a record of every transaction he made to her, and even… documents showing his attempted unauthorized use of his rank to apply for ‘Temporary Dependents’ Housing’ for her.” The faces of the three men at the table changed instantly. Commander Davies’ expression was one of shocked fury. The Internal Affairs men were openly grave. A moral lapse is entirely different from using one’s position for personal gain for a mistress. The former is a character flaw; the latter is a severe disciplinary violation—a disgrace to the uniform! “In the chat logs, Willow frequently complained to Ethan about feeling unsafe living alone, saying she envied me living in The Base Annex.” I narrated calmly, as if discussing someone else’s tragedy. “To appease her, Ethan lied, telling her he had successfully applied for temporary housing under the ‘Special Talent Dependent’ program and that she would move into a community not far from the Base soon.” “That community, as far as I know, is reserved for military families who have made significant contributions and for high-value contracted personnel, correct?” My gaze rested on Commander Davies. The Commander’s lips were tightly pressed, but the vein pulsing in his forehead betrayed his rage. The Internal Affairs agent immediately snatched the USB drive. “We will verify this immediately.” After they left, only Commander Davies and I remained. “Audrey…” He sighed, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “You… you’ve been wronged.” I shook my head. “Compared to my personal pain, I care more about the honor of that uniform he wears.” I meant that, sincerely. I married Ethan not just for love, but out of profound respect. I respected him as an honorable soldier, a protector of our nation. Now, he had personally shattered all my reverence. “The organization will not protect any failure, and we will not wrongly condemn any good man,” Commander Davies assured me. I nodded and rose to leave. Just as I reached the door, I paused, turning back as if a thought had just occurred to me. My expression was tentative and uncertain. “Commander, there is something… I don’t know if I should mention it.” “Tell me.” “That woman, Willow Price—when I looked up her details, I found she has a brother named Asher Price.” “This Asher… I don’t think he’s an American citizen. He has an overseas background. And in the chat logs, Willow mentioned several times that her brother was extremely curious about Ethan’s work, always probing for details about Special Forces training, equipment, and tactics.” I chose my words carefully, making myself look like an ordinary spouse who had stumbled upon a loose thread but was terrified of misinterpreting it. “I thought it was just family curiosity at the time, nothing serious. But thinking about it now, it feels wrong.” “I worry… I worry Ethan might have been set up by this woman…” My voice trailed off, ending in a slight, controlled sob. The tears were half acting, half real. Real for the death of my love. Real for the husband I was personally pushing into the abyss. Commander Davies shot up from his chair. The last flicker of sympathy vanished from his eyes, replaced by an unparalleled sharpness and alertness. “What is her brother’s name? Which country is he associated with?!” The nature of the situation had, in that instant, fundamentally changed. It had spiraled from a simple moral lapse, to severe abuse of power, and now… to a major suspicion of jeopardizing national security. Ethan Cole, I had just played the final card in your checkmate.

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Everyone in this city knows that Sebastian Thorne, the heir to the Thorne gambling empire, despises me to his very core. He makes a sport of humiliating me at every party we’re forced to attend. “My family built its empire on these tables,” he’d sneer to the crowd. “And Eleanor Larkin? She’s a pretty face who can’t even tell a spade from a club.” “Marrying her? I’d get more of a reaction out of a goddamn inflatable doll!” But thanks to an ironclad marriage contract between our families, and the unfortunate fact that his precious little imposter is barren, he found a different way to use me. He dragged me to the poker table. “If you lose,” he declared, his voice cold as ice, “I’m taking your womb. You will carry my heir.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a vicious whisper. “And it will be a C-section. No anesthesia.” I had taken enough of his torment. A slow, cold smile spread across my face. “Fine,” I said, my voice dangerously sweet. “And if I win, I’m taking your goddamn manhood.” The crowd roared with laughter. They thought I was a fool, completely out of my league. After all, everyone in Vegas knew the name Sebastian Thorne. They called him the Phantom. I just lowered my eyes, silent. The Phantom, indeed. Because five years ago, on a rain-lashed night in this very city, I was the one who took that Phantom’s hands in mine and taught him how to cheat just to stay alive. 1 The roar of laughter in the grand ballroom was a familiar soundtrack to my humiliation. I took my seat at the poker table, my expression a carefully constructed mask of calm. My composure seemed to pique Sebastian Thorne’s interest. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, well. I’ll give you this, you’ve got guts.” His voice dripped with condescension. “Then again, guts are all you have left when you’re this stupid. Miss Larkin, I hear you can’t even tell a spade from a club. Shall I walk you through the rules of Five-Card Stud?” My eyes scanned the green felt, and a jolt of nostalgia, sharp and fierce, shot through me. I shook my head, raising a hand to cut him off. “Thank you, Mr. Thorne, but I know the basics. Five cards, one face down, four face up. Best hand wins. I can manage.” “Good. Since Miss Larkin is so confident, let’s begin!” Sebastian’s smirk widened. He gestured for the dealer to approach. “Wait!” A sweet, cloying voice cut through the crowd. “Big brother Seb, poker is so much more fun with more players.” Lila, the family’s darling “adopted” daughter, emerged from the sea of onlookers. Dressed in something scandalously flimsy, she sashayed over and draped herself across Sebastian’s lap. Coiling her arms around his neck, she shot me a venomous, triumphant look. “You don’t mind, do you, sister?” In front of me, his actual fiancée, this display was a slap in the face. Sebastian, far from being annoyed, simply stroked her cheek. “Lila, darling, don’t be a brat,” he chided playfully. “Your sister is a novice. Are you trying to bully her on her first time at the table?” Lila pouted, about to launch into a practiced whimper. I narrowed my eyes. From the side, I had to admit, the little imposter really did look a bit like me. Before she could speak, I cut in, my voice cool and even. “It’s fine. Whatever makes my little sister happy. It’s just one more player.” I turned to the dealer. “You may deal the cards.” Sebastian flinched, my unnatural calm clearly unsettling him. Still, he couldn’t imagine I was anything but a fool bluffing. He suppressed his flicker of doubt and patted Lila’s hip. “Alright, stop messing around. If you’re going to play, go sit properly.” Lila pouted but slid off his lap, taking the seat beside him. A waiter moved silently to our table, stacking thirty million dollars’ worth of chips in front of each of us. Lila’s eyes went wide, gleaming with greed. The dealer unwrapped a fresh deck of cards. He fanned them, separated the twenty-eight needed for the game, and began to shuffle with a mesmerizing, fluid motion. The soft shuffling sound stopped. The game had begun. The dealer’s fingers danced, sliding the first face-down card to each of us. Then came the first face-up card: Sebastian received a Six of Hearts, Lila a Jack of Diamonds, and I, an Ace of Spades. The dealer glanced at the table. “By the rules of Stud, the Ace of Spades is the highest card showing. Miss Larkin, you may bet or fold.” “Of course,” I said, my fingers tracing the edge of an ivory chip. I didn’t push it forward. Instead, I let out a long, theatrical sigh. “Mr. Thorne, you went to all this trouble to get me to play one hand. It seems a shame to just play for money. It’s so… boring.” I looked him straight in the eye. “Why don’t we raise the stakes?” 2 Sebastian stared at me, then let out a short, sharp laugh. He looked at me like I was an idiot who’d gotten one lucky card and thought she owned the world. “By all means. Since Miss Larkin is so eager, tell us. What do you have in mind?” I met his mocking gaze, my finger tapping the Ace of Spades in front of me. “The New Port development project. Thorne Industries holds a five percent stake, and Larkin Holdings has three percent.” “I’ll wager my family’s three percent against your five.” I smiled sweetly. “What do you say, Sebastian?” The ballroom erupted. “Is Eleanor Larkin insane? That’s the New Port! The Thornes, the Larkins, and half a dozen other families have bled themselves dry fighting over that project for years. And she’s just throwing it on a poker table?” “No wonder Sebastian can’t stand her! How could the Larkin family produce such a moron?” “Tsk, tsk. Her grandfather nearly died to build that company, and she’s gambling it away like it’s pocket change. If I were him, I’d crawl out of my grave to strangle the little beast!” … Sebastian clapped his hands, the sharp sounds cutting through the noise. “Excellent! Truly excellent! With Miss Larkin showing such… ‘courage,’ how could I possibly refuse?” “I’m in!” I nodded, satisfied, then slowly turned my gaze to Lila. “Sister dear, Sebastian has matched the bet.” My voice was silk and poison. “Now… what about you?” Lila bit her lip. She was a fraud, with no claim to the Larkin fortune. Her father was a weak man who had married into my mother’s money. What could she possibly wager? The thirty million in chips before her was more cash than she’d ever seen in her life. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. She looked desperately at Sebastian. He, of course, couldn’t bear to see his little pet suffer. “Lila, say whatever you want,” he declared. “Whatever stake you name, I’ll—” “I wouldn’t finish that sentence, Mr. Thorne!” My voice rose, sharp as cracking ice, cutting him off. “This is a wager between the two of us women. I suggest you stay out of it.” I looked down, slowly twisting the ornate ring on my middle finger—the symbol of my engagement to the Thorne heir. “Don’t you worry, little sister,” I continued, my voice softening deceptively. “I know you don’t have the resources to match such a bet.” I paused, then slid the ring off my finger. It landed in the center of the table with a sharp click. “How about this? I’ll add my position as the future Mrs. Thorne to the pot.” “And I’ll bet it against you publicly admitting the truth. That you’re not some ‘adopted daughter’ my father took in. You’re the illegitimate child he had with the maid while my mother was pregnant with me.” The room gasped. Lila’s face went sheet-white. She slammed her hands on the table and shot to her feet, screaming, “You’re lying!” “I am my father’s adopted daughter! You’re just jealous that he loves me more, so you’re making up these disgusting lies!” She turned to Sebastian, tears already welling in her eyes. “Seb, don’t believe her! She’s just trying to slander me!” Everyone present knew Sebastian’s deepest wound: his loathing for illegitimate children. Years ago, a bastard half-brother had appeared out of nowhere, forcing him into a five-year exile to prove his worth. He’d nearly died overseas, saved only by a mysterious mentor who taught him everything before he could return and reclaim his birthright. Sebastian’s face was unreadable. He simply barked at the hysterical Lila, “Sit down.” Then, his eyes, cold and sharp with warning, fixed on me. “I will get to the bottom of this.” I met his gaze without flinching, as if his threat was nothing more than a summer breeze. I tilted my head. “It’s just a bet, sister. No need to get so worked up. If you’re scared, you can always fold. Why lose your composure so spectacularly?” My casual tone enraged her. “Bet? Of course I’ll bet!” she shrieked. “I’m in!” 3 With all three of us in, the dealer dealt the third card. The cards were turned. Lila got a Jack of Spades, giving her a pair of Jacks face-up—the strongest hand on the table. Sebastian received an Eight of Hearts, which, combined with his Ten of Hearts, gave him a strong potential for a flush. I, however, received a worthless Three of Diamonds. Paired with my Ace of Spades, my hand was a mess. Despite the high Ace, my hand’s potential looked pitiful compared to theirs. The tables had turned in an instant. The dealer gestured to Lila. “The pair of Jacks is the high hand. Miss Hayes, the bet is to you.” The color rushed back into Lila’s face. She glanced at the pathetic Three on my side of the table and nearly laughed out loud. “An idiot is an idiot,” she sneered. “You get one Ace and think you’ve already won? No wonder Father can’t stand you.” She leaned forward, her eyes glittering with malice. “Eleanor, since you love raising the stakes, let’s play for something more… direct.” “I’ll bet all the clothes on my body against all the clothes on yours. Whoever loses strips naked. Right here. And then crawls around the entire ballroom. Let’s let everyone see what the great Eleanor Larkin looks like with nothing left to hide!” “Do you dare?” Under the intense gaze of the entire room, I lowered my head, remaining silent. My shoulders trembled almost imperceptibly, as if I were too humiliated to speak, too terrified to move. My face was pale. Sebastian had been watching my impending breakdown with cold detachment. But as the light from the chandelier above caught my downcast eyes, a flicker of something—familiarity?—stirred in his mind. He spoke, his voice a low warning. “Eleanor, if you fold now, I will honor your grandfather’s memory and forget about the three percent stake in the New Port.” “However, this engagement is over. And you will kneel before me and Lila, right here, and beg for our forgiveness. Then, and only then, will this be settled.” He leaned back in his chair, his tone magnanimous, as if offering a scrap to a beggar. “Think carefully before you answer, Eleanor.” The ballroom fell silent. Everyone expected me to take the lifeline he’d thrown. But they were wrong. My shoulders weren’t trembling from fear or shame. They were trembling with excitement. It had been years since I’d encountered a fool as perfect as Lila, one who would so willingly hand me the knife to slit her own throat. I slowly lifted my head. I had already run through every possible outcome of this hand in my mind, confirming the one inevitable result. Everything was perfectly in place. “I’m in.” The words hung in the air, solid and unyielding. Not just the crowd, but even Sebastian and Lila stared at me in stunned disbelief. Sebastian was the first to recover, his shock morphing into pure scorn. “You’re asking for it.” I ignored him, my eyes locked on his darkening expression. “The bet is made, Sebastian,” I said, my voice dangerously playful. “And since you want me to kneel and beg, let’s add that to the pot. If I win, you will stop this pathetic charade of looking for your long-lost ‘mentor’ and parading around trash like Lila as her stand-in. It’s insulting.” “You’re not honoring a memory. You’re desecrating it.” The moment I questioned his devotion to his “mentor,” Sebastian’s composure shattered. His eyes blazed with fury. “Shut your mouth! What do you know?” he snarled, his chest heaving. “You have no idea what she means to me. You have no right to speak her name!” He was beyond reason now, his face a mask of rage. He glared at me, his voice a low, menacing hiss. “Fine. Just fine. You want to play rough, Eleanor? Then don’t blame me for what comes next.” He whipped his head toward the dealer, his words bitten out through clenched teeth. “I’m in!” “Deal the fourth card!” 4 The dealer, startled by his outburst, dealt the fourth card with trembling hands. The cards were revealed. Sebastian got an Ace of Hearts. Not a flush, but with his Ten and Eight of Hearts, it created a formidable four-card flush draw. Combined with his hidden card, his hand was incredibly strong. I received an Ace of Diamonds. Suddenly, my face-up cards were a pair of Aces. “No… impossible! How could it be a Four of Spades!” Before the dealer could even announce the new high hand, Lila shrieked. Her body went limp, and she slid from her chair, collapsing onto the carpet in a heap, all pretense of elegance gone. In her fall, her hand accidentally flipped over her face-down card. A Queen of Hearts. Her four revealed cards were a pair of Jacks, a Queen, and a Four. Her hand was dead. No matter what the final card was, she could never beat my pair of Aces. Lila… was guaranteed to lose. The silence in the ballroom shattered, replaced by a storm of gasps and whispers. Lila was frantic. Scrambling on her hands and knees, she crawled to Sebastian, clutching at his legs, her face a mess of tears and snot. “Seb, you have to save me! Please!” she wailed. “I can’t crawl around naked… I’ll be ruined! I’ll have to kill myself!” Sebastian’s face was thunderous, but as he looked down at Lila’s face—a face that bore a four- or five-tenths resemblance to his mentor’s—his resolve softened. He took a deep breath, trying to rein in his fury. “Get up. Stop crying. The game isn’t over yet.” He promised, “I’ll handle this.” He turned to me. “Eleanor, I’m warning you. Stop this now. Fold your hand. You can take the thirty million in chips, and I’ll even give Larkin Holdings another one percent of the New Port shares. Your bet with Lila will be wiped clean. If this goes to the last card, neither of us will walk away clean.” He leaned forward, his voice low and intense. “You’ve heard the stories about me. They call me the Phantom. You cannot win.” I shook my head, a slow, deep laugh bubbling up from my chest. My gaze swept over the pathetic, sniveling creature on the floor. “Tsk, tsk. Sebastian, you really do have a soft spot for my dear little sister, don’t you?” “In that case, I’ll just have to—” My laughter stopped abruptly. I slammed my hands forward, shoving my entire mountain of chips into the pot. “All in.” The clatter of the chips echoed through the silent hall. “I’m raising you, Sebastian. All in!” My eyes burned into his. “Since you’re so determined to protect her, then you can take her place. All of her bets are now on you. You lose, you pay her debts. If you win, everything is wiped clean. But if I win…” I let the words hang in the air, each one a drop of ice. “Don’t forget what we agreed on at the beginning.” “I want your goddamn manhood.” Sebastian stared at my audacity, his rage twisting into a bitter, incredulous smile. “Ha! Hahaha! Well, Eleanor. I truly underestimated you. You’ve got venom.” “You’re willing to bet your womb. Why shouldn’t I bet my balls? Let me tell you something. Unless my mentor herself walked through that door right now, there is no one in this room who can beat me!” He turned away from me, his voice a roar. “Dealer! Lila folds. Deal the final card!” The last card flew across the table. Sebastian received a King of Hearts. I got a Three of Spades. He rose to his feet, his eyes sweeping over my cards with cruel triumph before he slowly, dramatically, turned over his final, face-down card. A Seven of Hearts. His full hand was revealed: 8, 10, A, K, 7 of Hearts. A flush. He looked at me, his eyes cold and empty of any pity. “A pair of Threes and an Ace. Your down card must be garbage. Two pair? You think that can beat my flush?” “Don’t blame me, Eleanor.” “You did this to yourself.” Lila, her terror replaced by vicious, ecstatic glee, scrambled to her feet. “That’s right, you bitch! Let’s see you act so high and mighty now!” she shrieked. “Don’t you worry, I’ll make sure every media outlet in the country gets a copy of the video of you crawling on the floor like the naked animal you are!” The ballroom exploded with noise—jeers, laughter, the thrill of bloodsport. Everyone knew it was over. I was finished. But my expression remained placid, almost bored. I didn’t even spare Lila a glance. My eyes cut through the chaos and landed squarely on Sebastian’s smug, victorious face. I slowly rose from my chair, and my voice, though quiet, carried across the entire room. “Sebastian, is this what I taught you in that back alley in Vegas all those years ago?”

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When I saw the headline—Vegas Chapel Opens Drive-Thru in Nightclub, Dare Option Unlocked—I laughed along with the rest of the internet, sharing the spicy comments about it being a new punishment for losing a round of dares. I was still laughing about it yesterday. Today, when I went to the courthouse with my fiancé to get our marriage license, I found out he was already married. He’d registered last night. His “best friend,” a woman I’d only ever heard described as “one of the guys,” gasped with theatrical surprise. “Oh my god, Ryan! I think… I think we lost a dare at the club last night. They made us go get married as a penalty.” Ryan, with his arm still wrapped around my waist, just shrugged it off. “We thought it was just a joke, a gimmick. We didn’t think it was real. But hey, no big deal. We’ll just get it annulled.” He gave my side a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll take a month for the paperwork to go through, and then we can get our license. Simple.” I gently pushed his hand away. A smile played on my lips. “Okay,” I said, my voice sweet. “I’ll wait.” I’ll wait for you to get on your knees and beg me. 1 As I turned to leave, Ryan grabbed my wrist, his relaxed expression tightening with annoyance. “What’s the big deal, Audrey? It’s not like it can’t be undone. You can’t wait one month?” Alex, the “female friend,” draped her arms around Ryan’s neck without a shred of shame, pulling his head toward her chest. “Don’t worry, ‘sis’,” she purred, the title dripping with condescension. “It’s only a month. I can test-drive the marriage for you. Test-drive him too, if you want.” She winked at me. “If he’s no good, you can kick him to the curb. Save you from a passionless marriage.” The rest of their friends burst out laughing, a chorus of bros who saw absolutely nothing wrong with this. Including Ryan himself. He gave Alex a helpless push, pulling at the collar of her low-cut top to peek inside. “With that flat chest of yours? I’ll pass on the test drive.” Alex didn’t even flinch. She just puffed out what little she had. “They say these can be grown with the right pair of hands. Want to give it a try, Ryan? Experience the joy of a home-grown project?” Rage, hot and sharp, surged through me. Until this very moment, I had never known that Alex, the person he always called his best buddy, was a woman. A completely shameless one at that. Someone in the group must have noticed the murder in my eyes and tried to play peacemaker. “Hey, Audrey, don’t be mad. It’s our fault. We were all wasted and egging them on.” “Yeah, none of us knew you could actually get a real license at a nightclub. It’s crazy, right?” another one chimed in. Someone else popped the trunk of Ryan’s car. “Ryan was so excited about today. He even had a surprise for you.” The moment the trunk opened, a wave of awkward silence fell over the group. The back of the car, which was supposed to be filled with flowers, was a wreck. Dozens of roses were crushed and flattened, and lying right on top of the floral carnage was a single piece of black lace underwear. “Oh!” Alex chirped, stepping forward to snatch the panties. “I was wondering why I felt a draft this morning. Turns out I forgot something.” She shot a pouty look at Ryan. “You could have told me.” My mind went blank, a white-hot static where my future used to be. My hand moved on its own, the crack of my palm against Ryan’s cheek echoing in the sudden silence. “You disgust me.” He stared at me, stunned for a second, before grabbing my wrist. “It’s not what you think!” “She… she was drunk last night and insisted on sleeping in the car.” He shot Alex a desperate look, begging her to play along. She rolled her eyes before sighing dramatically. “Right, right. All my fault. I insisted on sleeping in the trunk alone and accidentally ruined your big surprise. But hey, you guys didn’t get your license today anyway, so no harm, no foul.” She emphasized the word “alone,” her tone a perfect blend of apology and taunt. I yanked my hand from Ryan’s grip, my face a cold mask. “Since you two are already married, there’s nothing left to say. I wish you both the best. A bitch and a dog, a match made in heaven.” A man this filthy was no longer my problem. Ryan blocked my path, his face dark. “I told you, marrying Alex was an accident. Do you have to be so cruel with your words?” he snapped. “These are all my friends. They came all this way to celebrate with us. The least you could do is buy them dinner.” He puffed out his chest. “Let’s do Aura.” I stared at him, truly baffled. I never realized the depths of his shamelessness. Aura, a restaurant with a six-thousand-dollar tasting menu per person, was so exclusive it didn’t even take reservations from the general public. Even Ryan Walker couldn’t get a table there on his own. And now, standing here on the day he was supposed to marry me, already married to another woman, he had the audacity to ask me to use my connections to save his face? I was so furious I could barely breathe. I kicked him hard in the shin. “Get lost,” I seethed. “Take whoever you married and buy them your own damn dinner.” I got in my car and drove straight to my office. I had barely sat down at my desk when my phone rang. It was the concierge from Aura. “Ms. Pearce? A Mr. Walker has just charged an eighty-eight-thousand-dollar VIP package to your account. I was calling to confirm when you might be available to settle the bill?” I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. The absolute nerve of Ryan. “He’s the one who spent the money,” I told the concierge, my voice ice cold. “He can be the one to pay for it. If he doesn’t, I suggest you call the police. He and I are no longer associated in any way.” A few minutes later, Ryan’s name flashed on my screen. I answered, and his furious roar filled my ear. “Audrey! Are you trying to humiliate me in front of my friends? Get over here and pay this bill right now!” I let out another cold laugh. “Why, exactly, would I do that?” “When have you ever not paid when we’ve come here?” he shot back, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. My voice dropped to a whisper. “Oh. Why don’t you take a moment and remember why I ever paid for you in the first place?” There was a pause. He remembered. He remembered showing up at my door with nothing but his good looks and a sob story, begging me to support him, promising he’d be the perfect, devoted husband who wouldn’t interfere with my career. Back then, he was sweet, attentive, and gorgeous. And I, facing the pressure of inheriting my family’s company, thought that having a handsome, uncomplicated man by my side was a perfect solution. So I said yes. His tone softened, shifting to the gentle, pleading voice he always used to get his way. “Audrey, baby, don’t be angry. I promise I’ll book an appointment to start the annulment with Alex tomorrow. Next month, it’ll be you and me. Even if her name is on that paper, you’re the only one in my heart. A tomboy like Alex could never compare to you.” A few days ago, those sweet words would have melted me. Now, they just made my stomach turn. I could hear Alex’s voice in the background. “Is Audrey still giving you a hard time? I told you, you’re too good to her. Just because she has a little money, she thinks she can throw these tantrums whenever she wants.” “Yeah, man,” another voice chimed in. “She’s almost thirty. Who else is going to marry an old maid like that besides you?” “Exactly. Alex is way better. She can be your bro in the streets and in the sheets.” “I say, since the license is already signed, why not just roll with it? Otherwise, your life is basically over, dude.” “Hey, speaking of last night in the car… weren’t those rose thorns a little prickly?” A wave of raucous laughter followed. The sound was so incredibly mocking. Now I understood why he never wanted me to meet his “friends.” He was afraid I’d see them for who they really were. The background noise muffled as Ryan presumably covered the phone, but his own voice grew bolder. “Look, just get over here. Weren’t you always dying to meet my friends? Stop playing hard to get.” “Fine,” I said. “Tell them to wait for me.” Just before I hung up, I heard Ryan’s triumphant voice, loud and clear. “See? I’ve been giving her way too much credit. I tell her to come, and she comes running.” The sound of it was so pathetic, it was almost funny. Ryan was clearly flying high on his own delusion. I watched the call recording save automatically to my phone, then blocked his number and got back to work. The anger fueled me. I worked straight through the night and didn’t head home until the next morning. But the moment I opened my front door, I saw it. A trail of discarded clothing—his jeans, her dress—snaked from the entryway to my bedroom door. The rage I had managed to suppress came roaring back. I walked to the kitchen, filled a stainless-steel ice bucket with water, marched into the bedroom, and dumped the whole thing onto the bed. Two figures, tangled together, shot up with panicked screams. They were both completely naked. When Alex saw it was me, she shrieked, “Are you crazy? Can’t you see we’re sleeping?” I tossed the bucket onto the floor with a loud clang. “Oh, I see,” I said, my smile venomous. “I see everything perfectly.” Ryan scrambled to pull on his boxers. “Audrey! Don’t misunderstand! Nothing happened between us! We’re innocent!” There are moments when you’re so utterly speechless that all you can do is laugh. “Do you take me for an idiot, Ryan?” Naked, in my bed together, and he was trying to sell me on ‘innocence’? Alex, completely unbothered by her own nudity, stood up to defend him. “Do you have any idea how much face Ryan lost last night because you didn’t show up?” she yelled. “And you have the nerve to be angry at him? Besides, Ryan and I are legally married now. Even if we did sleep together, it’s nobody’s business but ours!” Ryan grabbed her dress from the floor and expertly helped her pull it on, his movements practiced and familiar. Then he turned to me, his eyes full of disappointment. “Can’t you just trust me for once, Audrey? Why do you always have to be so suspicious? And about last night… those are my best friends! You completely humiliated me in front of them.” He took a deep breath, as if preparing to deliver a royal decree. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to wire each of my friends a hundred thousand dollars as an apology for the eighty-eight-thousand-dollar dinner you refused to pay for. Then, maybe, I’ll consider putting in a good word for you with them.” I stared at him, incredulous. How could one person possess such an astounding level of arrogance? Did he actually believe what his friends said, that I was so desperate I couldn’t live without him? He seemed to take my silence as a sign that his threats were working. His tone became even more condescending. “Consider this one-month annulment period a trial. For you. A chance for you to prove you’re worthy of marrying me. We’ll see how you behave.” He then added, “Oh, and Alex is craving the caviar and chocolate pudding from Aura. Have a serving delivered.” Alex stepped forward and gave me a hard shove, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Ryan and I are the married couple here. That means this is my house now. You can get out.” She leaned in closer. “And you’d better spend the next month figuring out how to get on my good side. Because if I’m not happy, I might just decide not to sign those annulment papers. Then where would you be?” I stumbled backward, the corner of a dresser digging painfully into my lower back. For a split second, I saw Ryan’s hand start to reach for me, but he pulled it back, his expression hardening. “Your attitude really has gotten out of control lately, Audrey. You need to fix it.” Fix this, I thought. I steadied myself, stood up straight, and slapped them both, one after the other. Alex screamed and lunged at me, grabbing a handful of my hair, her other hand raised to strike back. I could have dodged it, I could have fought back, but Ryan grabbed my arms, holding me in place for her. “Audrey, don’t you dare go too far!” he yelled. Alex’s slaps landed hard across my face, stinging and sharp. I could taste blood in my mouth. When she was done, Ryan looked at me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes before he quickly looked away. “You hit her first,” he mumbled. “You can’t blame Alex. Maybe you should stay somewhere else for a while. Alex doesn’t really like living with other women.” I thought Ryan had a limit, a line he wouldn’t cross. I thought wrong. He wasn’t just a spineless user; he was an animal. “Really?” I spat, the blood making my words taste metallic. “Is her mother not a woman? Or did she crawl out from under a rock?” Any lingering shred of affection I had for him vanished in that instant. I pushed myself off the floor, walked to my desk, pulled open a drawer, and threw the deed to the condo right at his face. “Read it and weep. This is my property. The only two who should be getting out are you and your whore.” I pointed a trembling finger at him. “And you, Ryan. Your clothes, your car, your entire existence for the past three years—I paid for it all. Get naked before you leave. And that pathetic little startup I funded for you? Get ready to watch it file for bankruptcy.” Alex stepped in front of him, her arms crossed defiantly. “You were going to marry him anyway. It’s not just the condo; your company was going to be his too. You should be handing it all over willingly, and instead, you’re trying to kick him out?” She sneered. “What, are you trying to be some kind of online girlboss now? Just wait. Once Ryan dumps you for good, you’ll come crawling back.” I found it fascinating that Alex, a woman, could be so contemptuous of other women. She seemed to identify so strongly with men, she’d practically become one herself. She would learn soon enough what happens when you put all your faith in them. “I’m done talking,” I said flatly. “Are you leaving, or do I have someone make you leave?” I pulled out my phone and dialed three numbers: 9-1-1. Seeing me actually do it, Ryan hesitated. But Alex grabbed his arm. “Who do you think you’re threatening?” she snarled at me. “You don’t want me living in your precious condo? Fine. Then nobody gets to live in it!” With that, she stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of olive oil, and ran back into the bedroom. She started splashing it all over the curtains and my clothes in the open closet. My eyes widened in horror. I moved to stop her. “Ryan, what are you waiting for? Stop her!” Alex screamed at him. “If you don’t teach her a lesson now, do you really think she won’t hold this over your head every single day after you’re married?” That was all it took. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ryan wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, pinning me in place. I could only watch in helpless horror as Alex finished emptying the bottle, pulled a lighter from her pocket, and set the curtains ablaze. The oil acted as an accelerant. Flames erupted, climbing the fabric in seconds. Choking on the smoke, Alex pushed past me, grabbed Ryan, and dragged him out of the room. I heard the click of the lock just as I lunged for the door. The fire was already consuming half the room. The heat was a physical force, searing my skin. I pounded on the door in a panic. “Ryan! Open this door right now!” I think he might have considered it, but I heard Alex’s sharp voice from the other side. “Ryan, I’m doing this for you. Have some goddamn backbone. Wait until she begs you. Then we’ll talk.” A moment of silence, then Ryan’s voice, muffled but clear. “Alex is right, Audrey. You should have signed the condo and the company over to me a long time ago. All you ever needed was me, right? If you promise to sign everything over to me right now, I’ll open the door and let you out.” The flames grew higher. The ends of my hair began to singe and curl. The thick, acrid smoke clawed at my lungs, and every attempt to breathe was like swallowing knives. I heard Alex again, her voice laced with cruel excitement. “See? She’s still got fight in her. That means the fire isn’t big enough yet. Let’s wait a little longer.” Ryan’s reply was a single word that sent my heart plummeting into an icy abyss. “Okay.” I stopped hoping they would save me. Stumbling and choking, I made my way into the en-suite bathroom. I turned on the shower, drenching myself in cold water, and curled into a ball on the wet tile floor. Through the haze of smoke and fear, I heard Alex’s panicked shriek. “The fire’s spreading out here!” Ryan’s voice was filled with alarm. “What about Audrey?” “Who cares about her right now?” Alex screamed back. “Do you want to die?” Then, the sound of frantic footsteps fading down the hall. They had left me there. Smoke seeped under the bathroom door, making the small space a death trap. My breathing became shallow, my vision started to swim in black spots. Just as I thought this was it, that I was going to burn to death in my own home, the bathroom door splintered open. “Ma’am, are you okay?” A firefighter. The first thing I did, the very first conscious act after being saved, was to grab his arm. My voice was a raw, broken rasp. “Call the police,” I choked out. “This was arson. They tried to murder me.”

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While we were touring the penthouse, the sales agent’s eyes curved into crescents. “The bedroom gets so much natural light,” she chirped. “Nolan will love it.” My feet froze to the floor. I had never told her my fiancé’s name was Nolan… 1 She seemed to realize her slip of the tongue. Her smile vanished, replaced by a practiced, professional mask as she gestured forward. “Ms. Sutton, the dining room is this way.” Just then, my phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID before answering on speaker. “Claire, where are you?” A rich, magnetic voice filled the air. A step away, the agent—Hannah—visibly tensed. I gave Nolan the address before turning back towards the reception hall. Hannah, after a moment’s hesitation, hurried to catch up. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a distinguished, coolly composed man strode in. He took my hand in his, his grip firm and familiar. I smiled, my expression betraying nothing. “Weren’t you in a meeting? What are you doing here?” Nolan raised an eyebrow. He leaned in, the cool gleam of his glasses catching the light as the tip of his nose brushed against my cheek. “Isn’t it obvious? I missed you…” I was always a sucker for this side of him. This man, so aloof and unapproachable to the rest of the world, was only ever tender with me. The unease from a moment ago began to fade. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Nolan? There was no way. Perhaps the agent had simply seen a photo of us together in some financial report. As we started back toward the penthouse, I noticed she wasn’t following. I glanced back. Her eyes were glistening, brimming with unshed tears. 2 “Do you two know each other?” I let go of Nolan’s hand, my gaze flicking between them, demanding an explanation for the story I was clearly missing. The spacious hall suddenly felt small as the other employees turned to stare. Hannah’s face was pale, her eyes darting to Nolan in a silent plea. “We… we were…” “We were college classmates,” Nolan stated, his expression unreadable as he glanced at her. The girl froze, a thousand unspoken words seemingly trapped in her throat. Nolan’s brow furrowed. “Are we going to see the apartment or not?” His voice was suddenly sharp, laced with an unnerving edge. The sales manager scurried over, apologizing profusely to Nolan and trying to smooth things over. Another agent gently pulled Hannah aside, leaving her looking isolated and pitiful. My Hermès bag felt heavy in my hand as I walked toward her. “You failed to do your job, and no one’s even reprimanded you. What exactly are you so upset about?” Her voice, thick with tears, was barely a whisper. She bowed repeatedly. “Ms. Sutton, I-I’m so sorry…” “Enough!” The roar came from behind me. It was Nolan. I turned to see him tearing into the sales manager, his usual composure gone, berating him for his unprofessional staff. The atmosphere was ruined. There was no point in looking at the penthouse now. Back in the car, Nolan fastened my seatbelt for me. Seeing the storm brewing on my face, he softened his voice. “We can look at another place tomorrow, okay, Claire?” I met his gaze. “That ‘Enough!’ you shouted,” I said, my voice level. “That was for me.” 3 It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. His hand, midway through buckling my seatbelt, froze. Then, a faint smile touched his lips. “Why would you think that? Claire, when have I ever yelled at you?” I had no proof, but a woman’s intuition is a powerful thing. I knew that “Enough!” was meant to stop me from speaking to Hannah. My eyes narrowed. “What, exactly, is the relationship between you two?” “College classmates,” he repeated, a hint of weariness in his voice. “That’s all, Claire. Don’t doubt me. I swear.” I stared into his eyes. “You know how much I hate being lied to.” He handed me his phone, his gaze clear and unwavering, a silent testament to his fidelity. The passcode was my birthday. He’d always said he had no secrets from me, that I could walk into his office anytime without knocking. A wave of embarrassment washed over me. I had chosen this development. I had even specifically requested that agent, feeling sorry for her when I saw her standing alone. If I checked his phone and found nothing, I would look like a fool. After all, everyone knew I was Nolan’s first and only love—the one secret he had ever made public. Finally, I looked away, a stubborn pout on my lips. “Let’s just look somewhere else. I don’t like this place anymore.” Nolan took my hand, his voice a mix of indulgence and resignation. “Alright. Whatever you want.” 4 A week later, I found myself driving past that same sales center. On a whim, I pulled over and went inside. Hannah was nowhere to be seen. A familiar agent rushed to greet me. “Hannah?” I asked, my voice casual. “Oh, Ms. Sutton! Hannah doesn’t work here anymore,” she said eagerly. “I can assist you from now on. I know our properties even better than she did…” Suddenly, my heart lurched. A strange, sinking premonition took hold. Acting on instinct, I drove to Nolan’s company. The receptionist’s face lit up when she saw me. “Ms. Sutton! Here to see Mr. Pierce?” Her hand was already hovering over the telephone, a flicker of panic in her eyes. I stopped, my gaze fixed on the elevator. “You’ve never spoken to me before.” The color drained from her lips. She snatched her hand back from the receiver, her eyes darting away. “Oh… I just…” My patience snapped. “You. Come with me.” The elevator chimed, opening onto his executive floor. The outer office was a quiet hum of productivity. I made a beeline for Nolan’s private office. “Ms. Sutton!” the receptionist cried out behind me, her voice laced with desperate panic. I ignored her, my hand closing around the doorknob. Click. The door was pulled open from the inside. Nolan stood there, a smile on his face. “Claire. What a surprise.” 5 I swept past him into the office. The desk was immaculate. The sofa was perfectly arranged. Everything appeared normal. I sat down in his chair. “Since when,” I asked lightly, “does my arrival cause such a commotion?” His brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?” He stood beside me, dialing the internal line for HR. Just as the call connected, I reached for the tall, built-in wardrobe in the corner of his office. I yanked the door open. A startled cry echoed in the silence as a woman tumbled out, pulled from the wardrobe by the force of my tug. Nolan didn’t have time to stop me. As she looked up, her face pale and frightened, I read the name on the employee badge clipped to her blouse. “Sales Department. Hannah Nash.” The office was dead silent. For a long, long moment, no one moved. Finally, Nolan broke the silence. “She’s a college classmate,” he began, his voice strained. “We ran into each other here at the company, just catching up. She hid because she was afraid you’d misunderstand… Claire.” I looked at the woman on the floor. Her hair was a mess, but her clothes were neat. She was biting her lower lip, staring back at me. “That’s right, Ms. Sutton,” she stammered. “I passed the interview and got the job. After what happened at the sales center… I couldn’t work there anymore…” “Go on,” I said, my gaze locked on hers. “Tell me. What did I do to you at the sales center that was so terrible?” She was speechless. Her eyes started to well up with tears. “Claire.” Nolan’s voice came from behind me, tight with frustration. “Don’t scare her. This is my fault.” He shot Hannah a look, and she immediately lowered her head and scurried out of the room. We were alone. He rubbed his temples. “With your status, you made her uncomfortable. Of course she couldn’t stay in her old job.” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “You’re certainly quick to see things from her perspective.” 6 Nolan froze. In an instant, he was kneeling in front of me, taking my hands in his. “Claire, I know you’re angry, but don’t say things you don’t mean. Don’t hurt me like this.” “I haven’t done anything wrong. I only had her hide because I didn’t want you to be upset. I swear, we’re just old classmates. Nothing more.” I said nothing. He sighed. “I can have HR fire her, if that’s what you want.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “But Claire… Hannah’s mother is sick.” He let the words hang in the air, watching my reaction. The only sound was the low hum of the air conditioner. My face hardened. “Are you trying to tell me that if her mother dies, it’ll be my fault?” He winced. “That’s a harsh way to put it.” I stood up, but he grabbed my arm. “Claire! Don’t overthink this, that’s not what I meant at all…” Suddenly, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “But that’s exactly what you’ve done! You brought her into your private office! You told the receptionist to warn you when I arrived! You’re using her sob story to emotionally blackmail me!” Then, it hit me. “Nolan, if you just ‘ran into each other’ at the company, why would the receptionist need to give you a heads-up? Were you… getting ready to cheat on me?” He looked stunned, then almost let out a disbelieving laugh. “What are you thinking? Claire, how could I?” He answered my question with another question, deflecting. I stared at him. “She even knew you like waking up to a sun-drenched room. Nolan, what is the real story between you two?” 7 The air in the room was thick, suffocating. I pulled away from him. “Fine. You can answer me when you’ve figured out what the truth is.” I wrenched the door open. Hannah was standing right outside, looking startled. She met my gaze and awkwardly offered me the coffee in her hand. “Ms. Sutton, I… I was just worried you two might be thirsty…” My eyes fell to the distinct smudge of lipstick on the rim of the cup, then back to her face. “A used cup. Are you trying to send some kind of message?” She froze, the cup hovering in mid-air. Her eyes reddened again. “Claire,” Nolan’s exasperated voice sounded from behind me. He turned a cold glare on Hannah. “Who gave you permission to do anything other than your assigned work? Get back to your desk!” Flustered, Hannah nearly dropped the coffee. “Yes, Mr. Pierce,” she choked out, before practically running away. Nolan’s brow was still furrowed. “If you really want to ruin her career, Claire, I can call HR right now. You don’t have to get worked up every time you see her.” A hot surge of regret washed over me. I should have taken that coffee and thrown it right in his face. Even in the car, I couldn’t calm down. Nolan’s cold indifference was reserved for strangers. But the things he’d said to me, because of her… it was a clear attack. And I was supposed to believe he didn’t care about her? That their relationship was innocent? I didn’t believe it for a second. A notification pinged from the tablet on the back seat. I suddenly remembered Nolan had logged into his messenger account on it once when his phone was dead. I took a deep breath and tapped on the new message. There was no name saved for the contact, just a username: [Puppy’s Tears]. [I’m so sorry. I caused you trouble again.] [Yeah.] [So… can I still work here?] [Yes.] The exchange seemed innocent enough. Until the next message from Puppy’s Tears. [Don’t worry. I haven’t told anyone about our past. Not then, and not now.] Nolan hadn’t replied. Then another message came through. [Can we… can we love again…] [I won’t cause you any trouble.] [Nolan, I miss you…] There was nothing after that. A moment later, a system notification popped up on my tablet: [You have been logged out of your account.] The dark screen reflected my own ugly expression. Then, Nolan called. His voice was warm, just like always. “Claire, where are you?” “Just watching,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “a man and a puppy having an affair.”

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Pregnancy insomnia was killing me, so I’d been obsessing over a DreamWeave mattress. The next day, a shipping notification for that exact mattress popped up on my husband Ethan’s phone. A wave of warmth washed over me. I decided to play along, to let him have his surprise. But three days later, I saw a picture of the same mattress on my best friend’s social media. Anna’s caption read: To whoever sent this amazing gift, I absolutely love it! You made my week! I told myself it was just a coincidence, a desperate, flimsy hope. That night, as Ethan slept beside me, I carefully slipped his phone from the nightstand. My fingers trembled as I opened the Amazon app. The recipient’s name stared back at me from the screen, stark and undeniable: Anna. 1 My mind was a tangled mess. It was as if the baby could feel my turmoil, kicking restlessly inside me. I leaned against the headboard, watching the darkness outside the window slowly fade to grey. I sat like that until dawn. Ethan woke just before seven. Seeing me already sitting up, his voice was thick with sleep and concern. “What’s wrong, honey? Another bad night?” I managed a stiff nod, unable to arrange my features into anything that didn’t scream betrayal. “You know that mattress you were looking at a few days ago?” he said, his voice gentle. “I saw it was on sale for the holidays. Let’s just get it.” He reached out and stroked my hair, a gesture that once would have melted me. “Don’t worry about the price. I make money to spend it on you.” They say a man’s heart follows his money. But it seemed Ethan’s heart could be split in two. He made me breakfast—all my favorite things—and left for work without eating a bite himself. The moment the door clicked shut, I grabbed my phone and created a new, anonymous social media account. I found Ethan’s profile, the one he kept locked, and what I saw felt like a physical blow. He posted a picture of his breakfast every single morning. And looking at the familiar lunchbox in every shot, a sharp, acid pain twisted in my gut. I had given that lunchbox to Anna in college. She loved to cook, so I’d saved up for months to buy her a high-end insulated box, even having it monogrammed with her initials. She’d hugged me so tight, promising, “Kate, I’m going to use this to bring you lunch every single day!” I never imagined that one day, she’d be using it to pack breakfast for my husband. No wonder Ethan never ate at home in the morning. Someone was already preparing his meals with meticulous care. Ethan and Anna worked at the same company. A company that Anna and I had founded together. After I got pregnant, Ethan had stepped in to help me manage things. They were the two most important people in my world. I trusted them like I trusted my own limbs. Now, the crushing weight of their betrayal threatened to suffocate me. My thumb swiped down, and a new post of his appeared—one he’d hidden from my main account. Today’s breakfast: my absolute favorite beef sandwich! In the five years we’d been together, I was always the one taking pictures, documenting our lives, sharing our little moments. He’d even teased me about it. “What’s the point of posting all this everyday stuff?” A bitter, ironic smile touched my lips as I scrolled through his meticulous daily log. I scrolled, punishing myself, reading post after post of a life he lived without me. Suddenly, my finger froze. An account name had caught my eye. DreamingOfE. The account had liked every single one of Ethan’s posts that mentioned Anna. I knew all of Anna’s accounts, public and private. I clung to the hope that it wasn’t her. But clicking on the profile was like having a bucket of ice water thrown in my face. Last week was Anna’s birthday. I’d ordered her a custom fairytale-themed cake. DreamingOfE had posted a picture of that exact cake on her birthday. The caption read: Celebrating with the person I love most, and the most important person in my life. So, which one was I to Anna? The one she loved most? Or the one who was just… important? I spent the entire day like a thief, piecing together the fragments of their secret world. Their interactions were subtle, never crossing a definitive line, but the persistent, sharp sting in my heart told me this was a betrayal all the same. When Ethan came home that evening, he found me disheveled on the sofa, my eyes red and swollen. “Honey, what happened?” It was the same deep, tender voice, the same soulful eyes. But in that instant, everything felt different. Tears welled up and spilled down my cheeks. I saw a flash of panic and genuine pain in his eyes. A small, pathetic voice in my head whispered, He still loves you. Give him one more chance. I pulled up the picture from Anna’s feed, my voice a forced, pouty whine. “Look, someone sent Anna this amazing mattress… I wish I had one.” His pupils dilated, his smile freezing on his face. I held my breath, watching him, giving him the space to tell the truth. He recovered quickly, forcing a stiff laugh. “If you want one, I’ll buy you one. Let me be the one to spoil you, okay?” His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a tear. He spoke to me like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “You’re a grown woman, crying over something so silly.” There was no sweetness in his words, only the bitter taste of deceit. If he had just admitted it, told me he’d sent it to Anna, I think I could have forgiven him. But he dodged, he concealed, he treated me like a fool. It was all the proof I needed. They were hiding something. Having not eaten all day, the baby started to protest with a series of sharp kicks. Ethan, worried the kicks were hurting me, leaned down and pressed his cheek against my belly, murmuring to it. “Hey, little one, be nice to your mommy. Daddy’s going to make dinner right now, so you can stop kicking, okay?” He stood and immediately went to the kitchen. I watched his broad back as he moved around, an inexplicable ache spreading through my chest. Ethan was a good husband. He truly was. From our first date to our wedding day and beyond, he had always been patient, gentle, and utterly devoted. Since I’d gotten pregnant, he’d taken on everything—work, chores, all of it—so I could rest. So where did it all go wrong? How could the man whose world revolved around me suddenly divert the stream of his affection? My phone buzzed on the coffee table, jolting me from my thoughts. It was a video call from Anna. “Kate! How are you feeling? Everything okay?” Even through the screen, the concern in her eyes looked so real. I nodded, my voice flat. “I’m fine.” She chattered on about nothing for a few minutes until my patience wore thin. “Was there something you needed, Anna?” Sensing my mood, she dropped the small talk and got to the point. “Yeah, there’s something at work I needed to run by Ethan, but he’s not answering his phone.” I flipped the camera, aiming it at Ethan, who was busy at the stove. “He’s been making me dinner ever since he got home. Hasn’t had a chance to check his phone.” The other end of the line went silent for a moment. Then, Anna’s voice came back, laced with a forced, playful tone. “Wow, I feel like a giant, glaring third wheel right now.” Just then, Ethan walked out with a plate. He saw me holding the phone and looked curious. “What are you doing, honey?” “Anna couldn’t reach you, so she called me.” It was only for a fraction of a second, but I saw it—the way his body tensed at the mention of her name. He set the plate down, walked over, and casually took the phone from my hand, launching into a conversation with her. They were, in fact, talking about work. Seeing me still on the sofa, Ethan paused his conversation to say, “Honey, go ahead and eat. I’ll be there in a minute.” Maybe he was genuinely concerned about me. Or maybe they needed to speak privately. Either way, he took my phone, walked into his study, and shut the door. The table was filled with all my favorite foods, but each bite tasted like ash. I couldn’t stop my mind from racing. What were they saying behind that closed door? Were they confessing their feelings? Complaining about the moody, pregnant wife? The thoughts twisted and tangled in my head until I felt like my skull would split open. That night, as we lay in bed, Ethan wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Honey, I ordered that mattress you wanted. You’ll finally be able to get a good night’s sleep.” In that moment, an uncontrollable urge surged through me. I couldn’t bear the thought of us sharing a bed while living in separate worlds. I forced my voice to remain steady, to sound calm as I gave voice to the thorn in my heart. “I know you already bought one. For Anna.” The hand gently stroking my belly froze. Ethan said nothing. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Fear made my next words come out as a near-whisper. “Just give me a reasonable explanation. That’s all I ask.” Just as I thought I might suffocate from the tension, he finally spoke. “There was a difficult project at work,” he began, his voice low. “Anna pulled a week of all-nighters to get it done. Her birthday was last week, and I hadn’t gotten her anything, so… I thought the mattress would be a nice thank-you gift.” I accepted his answer. Because I wanted to. There were still so many other questions burning in my mind. Why send it anonymously? Why hide your social media posts from me? Why are you eating the breakfast she makes for you every day? But we had a baby on the way. And I couldn’t bear to lose this marriage, this life I had believed was perfect. I clumsily turned to face him, my pregnant belly making it awkward, but I stubbornly wrapped my arms around him. “Ethan, I can’t lose you.” He stroked my hair, his voice soft. “You silly girl.” His breathing soon deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep. I carefully sat up and tucked the blanket around him. I went into the bathroom and, with shaking hands, opened the anonymous account and pulled up DreamingOfE. A new post was at the top. A heart flutter is an unconscious thing. He proves that to me again and again. And another, from the night before. It’s a wretched thought, but I wish I were the reason he still finds the energy to cook after a long day.

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After my peacekeeping tour ended, I made a special trip back home to spend Christmas with my wife. But the moment I reached the main gate of the military base, I was stopped by a sentry. He raised his rifle, his voice a sharp bark. “Today is Commander Vincent Payne’s christening party for his newborn twins! All unauthorized personnel are to leave immediately!” I stared at him, my mind reeling. “I am Vincent Payne,” I said, the words catching in my throat. “When did I have a second and third child? How could I not know?” “You must be mistaken.” The sentry let out a cold laugh. The click of the bolt sliding home was unmistakable. “Impersonating a military officer? That’s a serious offense. We can detain you on the spot!” A laugh, raw with disbelief and fury, escaped me. I pulled out my officer’s credentials and snarled, “Do I need to impersonate myself?!” The sentry’s face was grim. He suddenly shifted his rifle, aiming it not at me, but at the large projection screen inside the banquet hall. Forcing down my rage, I followed his gaze. On the screen, my wife, Evelyn, stood beside a strange man. Each of them was holding a baby, smiling as they acknowledged the crowd. Standing beside them was a little girl, about ten years old. A happy family of five. My world went white. I looked down at the name on my military ID: “Vincent Payne.” I was stunned into silence. If he was Vincent Payne… then who the hell was I?! 1 The rage in my chest was a wildfire, threatening to burn me to ash. I had no time to argue. I lunged forward, determined to force my way in. Seeing my movement, the sentry’s face hardened. “Halt!” he roared, taking a quick step back and raising his rifle to the sky. “One more step and I’ll shoot!” A tremor ran through me, and I froze in my tracks. The fury intensified, now laced with a chilling, surreal absurdity. I was a commander, and I was being held at gunpoint at the gate to my own home. I had to get through that door. “Insubordination,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “I have the right to confiscate your weapon.” Before the words had even left my mouth, my wrist snapped forward. In the next second, his rifle was in my hands. I lowered the barrel, my tone like ice. “I don’t want to do this. Let me in.” The color drained from the sentry’s face. He stared at me, too shocked to react. Just then, a cold shock hit my lower back. The hard, unmistakable press of a pistol dug into my spine. An instant later, a searing pain shot through the back of my knee. I let out a choked grunt, nearly collapsing. I whipped my head around to see a face that was angelic yet twisted with malice. It was the little girl from the screen. She was holding a small, silver handgun, the muzzle jammed against me. Her eyes held a viciousness that was terrifying in a child so young. “Where did this lowlife come from, making a scene?” she spat, her sweet features contorted with disgust. “Can’t you see it’s my baby brother and sister’s party? Get the hell out of here!” Her features were so similar to Evelyn’s. A jolt went through me. “Little girl,” I heard my own voice, dry and trembling. “Your mother… is her name Evelyn?” The girl shot me a look like I was the stupidest person on earth. She rolled her eyes. “Duh, asshole. My mom is Evelyn Xia, CEO of the Xia Corporation.” It was like a sledgehammer to the chest. The world started to hum. Fighting down the shock and rage, I pressed on. “And your father is…” “You’re so annoying!” she shrieked, shoving me hard. “My dad is Vincent Payne, and my name is Maya Payne! Now will you piss off? Talking to an idiot like you is exhausting!” An icy chill shot up from my feet, freezing me from the inside out. My wife had cheated on me. She’d had children with another man. But why would this girl, Maya, say that Vincent Payne was her father? I knew I didn’t have any children. This was insane. Utterly insane. I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “That’s impossible,” I said, my voice low and heavy. “I am Vincent Payne, and I don’t have a daughter.” “Pfft!” Maya spat in my direction. “A loser like you dares to pretend to be my dad?” A cruel glint entered her eyes, and she jabbed the gun harder into my back. “Today, I’m going to teach you a lesson. You’ll learn who you don’t mess with.” My eyes were fixed on the gun. I knew that weapon better than anyone. It was the gun I’d had specially commissioned for Evelyn’s thirtieth birthday. I had taught her, step by step, how to disassemble it, how to load it, how to aim. I’d told her it was her last line of defense, a way to protect herself when I wasn’t there. And now, it was in the hands of a foul-mouthed child, and it was pointed at me. A tidal wave of fury crashed over me. No more words. I spun around, my hand a blur of motion, and snatched the pistol from Maya’s grip. “You are not worthy of this gun!” As I spoke, I expertly ejected the magazine, bullets scattering across the pavement. The entire sequence was over in a flash. Maya barely had time to register that her hand was empty. “Ah—!” She froze for a second, then erupted into a piercing scream. She threw herself onto the ground, kicking her legs and wailing. “Help! Murder! Daddy, save me! Someone stole my gun, he’s going to kill me!” Between sobs, she hurled the most vicious curses she could think of at me. Her cries had barely echoed before a dark figure burst out of the banquet hall. 2 I didn’t have time to react. A powerful kick sent me stumbling back, my chest exploding with pain. I looked up and saw him—the man who was impersonating me. Not only was he a fraud, but he had the audacity to show his face so brazenly. My eyes burned with rage. Before I could speak, he swept Maya into his arms and roared, “You dare touch Vincent Payne’s daughter? You’ve got a death wish!” Looking at this man, who looked nothing like me but wore my name like a stolen coat, I trembled with fury. “Cut the crap! I am Vincent Payne! Who the hell are you, and why are you pretending to be me?!” At that, Maya pointed a vicious finger at me. “You piece of trash, still spouting nonsense!” she screeched to the man. “Daddy, not only is he pretending to be you, he stole my gun and was asking about Mom!” “The nerve!” the man snarled. “Touching my daughter, lusting after my wife… you’re begging to die! Seize him! Break his legs and throw him to the dogs!” At his command, several guards swarmed me like predators. I clenched my fists, but before I could move, a dozen black muzzles were aimed at my vital points. “Let me go!” I struggled, but I was slammed onto the cold, hard ground, my cheek scraping against the pavement. The guests who had followed the imposter out were now pointing and whispering. “Is this guy crazy? Commander Payne is right there, and he’s still trying to impersonate him.” “Right? Does he not know where he is? Causing trouble at a military base!” “Major Evans! Captain Thorne!” I roared, my voice raw, at the familiar faces in the crowd. “We were fighting side-by-side in the borderlands just last month! Have you all lost your goddamn minds?!” But the men I had once called brothers turned away in disgust, looking at me like I was a rabid dog. I scanned their faces, a dizzying wave of confusion washing over me. Why were they all acting like they didn’t know me? What was happening? I refused to accept it. With a surge of adrenaline, I broke free, flinging my military ID at the imposter’s face. “Bullshit! Look closely, you bastards! I’m Vincent Payne! You’re all insane! He’s the fake!” The imposter merely glanced at the ID with contempt. “Forging military credentials is a prison offense,” he sneered. “If you’re going to be a con artist, at least pick a better location. And of all people to impersonate, you had to pick me.” He slowly looked me up and down, then ground my ID into the pavement with the toe of his boot. “On this base, everyone knows the face of Vincent Payne.” His eyes were cold, like a snake waiting to strike. There was no fear, no panic of being exposed. A rush of blood pounded in my head. My identity had been stolen. After ten years of being child-free, I suddenly had three kids. And my wife… Evelyn! Where was she? What role was she playing in this grotesque charade? Countless questions and a bottomless rage churned inside me, threatening to swallow me whole. “I want to see Evelyn!” I screamed with every ounce of strength I had. “Get her out here!” The imposter chuckled. He walked over and looked down at me. “Heh. You really won’t give up until you’re staring at your own coffin. You want to see Evelyn? Fine. I’ll let you.” He leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “But I suggest you prepare yourself. Don’t come crying to me when you see the truth.” With a wave of his hand, he motioned for the guards to release me. I never expected him to be so confident. The blood drained from my face.

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