Category: English

1 My grandmother refused to close her eyes, her breath rattling in her chest. She made me swear a solemn oath right there on her deathbed. On my wedding day, I had to be out of my house before 4 AM and the ceremony had to be complete by 7 AM. Otherwise, the groom’s entire family would befall a terrible disaster. My grandma had been a seer her whole life, a woman whose predictions never missed the mark. Through my tears, I promised. I told my fiancé, Ryan, that even if it was just for my sake, he had to make sure the wedding party arrived on time. He swore he would. But on the morning of the wedding, the street outside was silent. The limousines were nowhere to be found. My mom called his family, and my future mother-in-law’s cold laughter crackled through the speaker. “What’s the rush? My son isn’t the one who made the oath!” “You want him to pick her up? Fine. Add another $50,000 to the dowry.” “Otherwise, the deal’s off!” The sound of firecrackers and cheerful laughter still echoed from the street below my window. Friends and family, some having traveled across the country, had arrived the night before just to make sure I could leave for my wedding before the 4 AM deadline. Hearing his mother’s words, a hot rage flooded through me. I ripped the decorative pins from my hair. “Mom, I’m not marrying him.” My mom rushed over, pressing my hands down. “Sweetheart, don’t talk crazy. On your wedding day? You can’t just call it off.” She sighed, her voice softening. “You’re pregnant. That’s why they think they have you cornered. Look at your belly.” Pregnant? What baby? I stared down at my stomach. It was soft, a little pudgy, the result of many late-night snacks. Nothing out of the ordinary. I looked up at my mom, confused. “Mom, what are you talking about?” She gave me a slightly exasperated look. “That dinner we had with Ryan’s mother? You ran to the bathroom to throw up halfway through. You didn’t see the look in her eyes after that. Pure calculation. I could practically see the dollar signs.” A vague memory surfaced. We had met with Ryan’s parents to finalize the wedding plans. The night before, I’d gone out for barbecue and had way too much. My acid reflux was acting up, and I’d felt nauseous all through dinner. So that was it. That’s why his mother’s attitude had completely changed when I got back from the restroom. And to make it worse, I remembered complaining to Ryan that my period was late. She thought I was pregnant. And my own mother, seeing the same signs, had just accepted their outrageous demands. 2 “Honey, maybe we should just give them the fifty thousand,” my mom pleaded. “You have to think about your grandmother’s warning.” “And no matter what his family is doing, you and Ryan have been together for years. He’s a good kid, aside from being a little cheap. We can’t be responsible for a curse on their whole family.” I knew she was right, but I couldn’t swallow the injustice. It wasn’t about the money. My family could afford fifty thousand, or even five million. My dad had told me that whatever dowry Ryan’s family offered, he would match it a hundred times over as my wedding gift, a nest egg for my future. I had tried to hint to Ryan that a larger dowry, even a symbolic one like $8,888 for good luck, would be appreciated. He had scoffed at the idea. “Dowries are such an old-fashioned, superstitious tradition,” he’d said. “Besides, your parents are just going to give the money to your cousin, right? A daughter’s dowry never really stays with her. It’s better if that money goes straight into our new life together. Don’t forget, I put your name on the house, baby.” I was furious. But I was bound by a promise to my dad not to reveal our family’s true financial situation to Ryan before the wedding. In a fit of anger, I’d told him I didn’t want a dowry at all. And now, his family was using this manufactured crisis to extort money from us. I didn’t know if Ryan was in on it, but the memory of him promising me he would honor my grandmother’s last wish made my heart ache. All our friends and family were here. They all knew about the timeline my grandmother had set. They had all made arrangements to be here, some traveling for days. And Ryan, the groom, was the only one missing. My phone rang. It was him. 3 His tone was the complete opposite of his mother’s, filled with urgency and concern. “Baby, don’t listen to my mom. She’s just talking crazy.” “We got held up on the way, but I’m almost there.” “I swear, I’ll get you in the car before your grandmother’s deadline. I won’t let anything happen to you.” The anger in my chest subsided. His mother might be a snake, but at least Ryan was on my side. His heart was in the right place. My voice softened. “When will you be here? All our relatives are waiting. If you don’t get here soon, we’ll run out of time.” “Get ready,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m close. I’m going to marry you in style.” I could hear muffled noises in the background. “Ryan, man, when are we leaving? The drivers can’t just park here. Why are we waiting for…” Before I could hear the rest, he hung up. My mom sighed. “At this rate, we’ll have to skip all the fun door games the bridesmaids planned.” My cousin Lily piped up. “But Clara spent three months planning those! All those fun little games will go to waste. And she spent a fortune on the extra photographers…” My mom glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. “The money is nothing,” she whispered. “If your grandmother’s spirit is truly angered, no amount of money could save the Zhao family.” 4 Lily’s eyes widened. “Was Grandma really that powerful?” “You grew up overseas, so you don’t know,” my mom explained. “Around here, everyone was terrified of your grandmother. Not because our family had money, but because she was a well-known seer.” “Years ago, before our family made its fortune, one of our relatives struck it rich. He brought his new, young wife back to the old town to visit, bringing gifts for everyone. He wanted to show off.” “Everyone wished them well, but when he came to our house, your grandmother took the expensive gifts—bird’s nest soup, ginseng, all of it—and threw the entire box out the door.” “She pointed at him and cursed him. ‘You think you can buy my blessing with this cheap trash after you abandoned the wife who helped you build your fortune? May you be struck by lightning and die alone! May your family fall to ruin!’” “The man was furious and swore he’d never step foot in our house again. The whole town gossiped about how cruel your grandmother was.” “Until…” my mom trailed off, a strange look on her face. “Until what?” Lily urged. “Auntie, don’t leave me hanging!” “Less than six months later, he was dead. Struck by lightning while using an outhouse in the countryside. They found him face down in a septic tank, his body half-eaten by maggots. It turned out the ‘new wife’ was a prostitute, and he had left his first wife for her. Every word your grandmother said came true. People whispered that she had cast a spell on him, all because he disrespected her.” My mom lowered her voice even more. “We can’t let that happen to Ryan’s family.” 5 A chill ran down my spine. I glanced at the clock. 3:20 AM. Still no sign of Ryan. The wedding ceremony itself was a long, complicated process. If he delayed any longer, we’d never make it. I knew my grandma was… eccentric, but I never realized her power was this terrifying. I grabbed my phone and sent Ryan a text. “Where are you? It’s getting really late. Please hurry! We can’t miss the deadline.” Five minutes later, he replied. “Can you stop rushing me? I’ve been up since yesterday getting ready. Do you think I’m not tired? If you’re so worried, just come wait downstairs. The car will get there when it gets there, and we can just leave.” My hands started to shake. My mom saw my face change. “What is it, honey?” Her heart wasn’t strong. I couldn’t tell her the truth. I locked my phone and forced a smile. “Nothing, Mom. Ryan said there’s a bit of traffic.” But inside, my mind was racing. How could he say that to me? A bride, in her wedding dress, waiting on the curb for her own wedding car? Was I that desperate? Was I so worthless that I had to beg him to marry me? All my excitement, all my anticipation for this day, turned to ash in my mouth. I had spent six months planning every single detail of this wedding, pulling all-nighters to make sure everything was perfect. And this was my reward? I bit my lip, refusing to let the tears fall. The clock on my phone lit up: 3:40 AM. Twenty minutes left. 6 Relatives were starting to whisper, asking when the groom would arrive. I didn’t hesitate. I sent Ryan another text. “If you can’t make it, let’s just cancel. We can go our separate ways.” After all these years, I couldn’t knowingly push him into a disaster. If we canceled the wedding, surely my grandmother’s curse wouldn’t come to pass. He called me immediately. His voice was completely different from his text. “Honey, I was just stressed. Don’t take it to heart. The wedding cars are just a mile away, but the drivers are on strike. They’re saying it’s too early and they haven’t eaten, and they won’t move until they’re paid in full. Can you… can you transfer me that 20k your mom gave you?” “The second the money hits my account, I’ll be there in five minutes, and we can have our beautiful wedding. But if we delay any longer… I can’t say what might happen.” He was talking about the $20,000 my mom had given me as a personal gift, which he had happened to see. My mom, overhearing, gently nudged me. “Baby, twenty thousand is nothing to us. Just send it to him. I don’t care about the money. I just want you to be happy and safe.” I looked at the faces of my friends and family, all waiting expectantly. I took a deep breath and gave in. I transferred the money. A kissing emoji popped up from him immediately. “Wait for me, my sweet wife. I’m on my way.” I sent back a simple “ok” and turned off my phone, my stomach churning. Now that he had the money, surely there wouldn’t be any more problems. 7 Five minutes later, the sound of car horns blared from downstairs. Lily ran up, her face bright with excitement. “Clara! They’re here! Lock the door!” I pulled Lily and my other cousin, Jake, aside. “We don’t have much time. Don’t make the door games too hard on him, okay? I’ll give you both a big gift later.” “Don’t worry, sis,” Lily said with a grin. “We know what to do.” A moment later, Ryan’s cheerful voice called from the other side of the door. “Honey, open up, or I’m kicking the door in!” Lily played along, calling through the door, “To marry my cousin, you have to answer a few questions first, future brother-in-law!” The next sound was a deafening CRASH. The bedroom door flew off its hinges and slammed into Lily, who fell to the ground with a cry of pain. The heavy wooden door landed on her leg, and her face went white. I shot to my feet. “What is the meaning of this? Is this how you pick up a bride?” A chorus of laughter came from the hallway. “Look what you did, you made the bride angry!” “Hahaha, who knew a mansion would have such a cheap door?” Lily, despite the fact that her foot was already swelling, grabbed the hem of my dress. “Clara, I’m fine. Don’t let this ruin your big day. It doesn’t even hurt.”

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After Dia broke up with me for the umpteenth time, I didn’t need her to tell me what to do. I packed my things, moved out, and quietly cut ties with our past. Day one: I canceled the wedding planner we’d booked three years ago but kept putting off. Day two: I shut off the automatic payments for her mother’s medical treatments and turned down her sister’s request for cash. Day three: I accepted my boss’s transfer offer, ready to start a new life in a city down south. As the plane took off, a strange curiosity hit me. Without me, her free, round-the-clock caregiver for the last decade… Without me, her personal ATM, always on call… How would Dia possibly manage? How would she take care of her paralyzed mother, satisfy her materialistic sister, and dote on that precious junior colleague she adored so much? 1 “Mr. Hayes, as per the contract, canceling the wedding plan will result in a forfeiture of twenty percent of the deposit. If you agree, please sign here.” The coordinator confirmed with me one last time, then handed over the contract and a pen, guiding me to the signature line. She was young, and I could see the gossip sparkling in her eyes. She looked like she was bursting with questions. I couldn’t blame her. A wedding booked three years ago. Two finalized plans, even a rehearsal, all leading to nothing. And now, instead of a wedding, a cancellation. Anyone would be curious. But they didn’t know the whole story. They didn’t know that my journey from eagerly anticipating marrying the woman I’d loved for ten years to deciding to call it all off had taken a single night. And the thing that finally made up my mind? A building block set hidden on the top shelf of Dia’s bookcase. During my end-of-the-month cleaning, I accidentally bumped the shelf. The heavy wooden planks and the surprisingly weighty blocks came crashing down, leaving me dizzy and seeing stars. The loud crash brought Dia running. She burst into the study, but her first instinct wasn’t to check if I was okay or help me up. Instead, her eyes fell on the scattered pieces on the floor, and an unusual rage contorted her face. “Alex Hayes, just because you didn’t like your birthday present doesn’t give you the right to destroy my things!” Before I could even explain, she was screaming at me to get out of her house. I stood outside her door all night, apologizing over and over, until the building’s security guard told me I was disturbing the neighbors and made me leave. I ordered a replacement for the set online and, like so many times before, wrote a thousand-word apology letter to her. I never got a reply. Instead, I saw her on another man’s social media feed. Dia’s junior colleague, a guy named Josh, had posted a nine-photo collage of a lively hotpot dinner. Right in the center was a picture that didn’t fit: a magnificent, intricate castle made of building blocks. The caption read: Thanks to my amazing senior, Dia, for staying up all night to build this Hogwarts castle for me! It’s the best publication gift ever. Hot take: Harry Potter is the ultimate childhood memory, haha! A minute after he posted, Dia’s comment appeared. Glad you like it. Josh replied just as quickly. Thank you so much! I only mentioned it once, I can’t believe you remembered. I’m so happy! Their back-and-forth was just a couple of simple comments, but reading them felt like having lemon juice squeezed into my eyes. The sting was unbearable. Last month was my thirty-third birthday. I had dropped hints, hoping for a nice watch. Dia had looked at me with a mix of surprise and scorn. “You’re a grown man trying to act like a trendy young guy. Those boys wear watches to look cool. You’ve been with me for ten years. Who are you trying to impress?” Her words were brutally honest, and they hurt. But on my birthday, she still gave me a watch. It was a cheap, no-name brand, probably worth a couple hundred bucks at most. But I was happy. I thought it meant she cared. I never imagined. Her junior colleague mentions something he likes offhandedly, and she commits it to memory. A fifteen-hundred-dollar building block set? She buys it without a second thought. That kind of special treatment… I, her actual partner of ten years, had never experienced it. This decade had been nothing but a dream I’d woven for myself. Now, it was time to wake up. 2 I had barely left the wedding planner’s office when a message from Dia popped up on my phone. Wendy’s train gets in at 8:30 tonight. Be there early. This was the first time she had contacted me since our fight. Normally, seeing this small olive branch, I would have scrambled to take it, then rushed to the station to pick up her sister. But this time, I just stared at the message for two seconds, then drove away. When I got back to their apartment that evening, shoes and a suitcase were strewn haphazardly across the floor. Wendy poked her head out of the bathroom and rolled her eyes at me. “Where the hell have you been, Alex? Do you know how long I waited at the station? I had to take a cab! If anything had happened to me, my sister would have skinned you alive.” She sniffed. “I’m hungry. Order me some takeout. Now.” I looked at her calmly. My eyes drifted down to her feet, shod in the thousand-dollar sneakers I’d bought her as a college acceptance gift. Her clothes were all brand-name, easily costing hundreds. Her outfit wasn’t extravagant, but it was far nicer than anything I usually wore. I had treated her like my own sister. In return, I never got so much as a kind word. When I bought her things, she’d coo “brother-in-law.” When I didn’t, it was a curt “Alex Hayes.” And I had put up with this for ten years. Right in front of her, I pulled out my phone and texted Dia. Your sister says she has no money for food. I’ve let you know. If you don’t mind her waiting, she can. You’re in a different time zone, after all. Wendy’s jaw dropped. I didn’t say another word and went into the master bedroom. The next morning, I was woken by a series of loud crashes from outside. Wendy had turned the kitchen and living room into a disaster zone. Water was flooding out of the bathroom, making the tiled floor a slippery mess. When she saw me, she showed no remorse. Instead, she defiantly flicked soap bubbles onto the floor. I watched her silently. I didn’t stop her. Nor did I, like the old me would have, grab a mop and clean up after her. I just went back to my room and packed the rest of my belongings. It was almost funny. This wasn’t my house. Why should I be the one in a hurry? Once I was packed, I walked out with my suitcase. “Where are you going?!” Wendy blocked my path. “Business trip,” I lied. “Half a month. Just grabbing some things from the office.” She pursed her lips, crossing her arms with an arrogant air. “Some people go abroad for academic exchanges, true intellectuals. Others are just corporate drones pulling all-nighters. You know what that’s called? A pathetic life.” She held out her hand. “I’m meeting some friends this afternoon. Transfer me some money, or I’ll tell my sister you’re abusing me.” She was so sure of herself, so certain I was still wrapped around her little finger. It was laughable. I had been Dia’s doormat for ten years. For her, I’d even been her family’s doormat for ten years. Now that I was done, they were the ones throwing a fit. I burst out laughing. I pointed at her, looking her up and down. “I pay for your mother’s medical care. I paid for your sister’s tuition. I’m paying for your college. Your entire family lives off me. Even the clothes on your back, I bought them.” “Next time you decide to run your mouth, maybe you should consider whether you can afford to pay me back first.” Wendy’s face turned bright red. She was speechless. She spun around, ran back to her room, and slammed the door. After settling into my new place, a notification popped up on my phone. It was a payment reminder for Dia’s mother’s medical bills. The hospital informed me the payment was due in five days and reminded me to ensure sufficient funds were in the account. When Dia and I first got together, I couldn’t bear to see her juggling work, school, and caring for her paralyzed mother and young sister. So, I offered to help. I thought if I treated people with sincerity, I would get the same in return. I just never expected to be dealing with a family of vipers. With that thought, I didn’t hesitate. I cancelled the automatic payment and unlinked my card. I was done being the fool. Let someone else play that part. 3 Late that night, the international call I was expecting from Dia came through. The second I answered, her angry voice shot through the phone like a bullet. “Wendy told me you didn’t pick her up! She had to take a cab home by herself, and then you wouldn’t even make her dinner! She wanted to order takeout, and you complained about the cost?” “Alex Hayes, is this how you treat my sister when I’m not around? If you don’t change your attitude, I’m going to have to seriously reconsider our relationship!” “Okay,” I said. “When you get back, we’ll meet up and sort things out.” My unexpectedly calm reaction seemed to throw her off. She was silent for a moment. “Sort what out? Is this about that stupid wedding plan again? You should focus on improving yourself instead of constantly nagging me about getting married. It’s so annoying. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. If you want to convince me of anything, we’ll see how you behave.” Her tone softened, but the dismissiveness was palpable. She had probably forgotten. In our first year together, she was the one who swore she would give me the grandest wedding the day she earned her PhD. I waited seven years for that day. When it finally came, I was the one excitedly comparing wedding planning companies. The first year, I presented her with a carefully selected proposal. She looked at me with a hint of guilt and said her studies were too demanding, she didn’t have the energy for a wedding. The second year, she finally finished the busiest part of her program and even agreed to try on wedding dresses with me. I waited for her for 24 hours in my tuxedo, only to get a text saying she’d overslept. The third year, I canceled the wedding planner. I took a deep breath. “Dia, it’s not about the wedding…” Before I could finish, I heard a boy’s exclamation on her end of the line. Dia hung up without another word. I stared at my phone, but I didn’t call back. The day of Dia’s return arrived quickly. She texted, telling me to pick her up from the airport. I ignored it. Then she called, saying it was the only day she’d be free. The next day, she had to be back at the lab and would be busy for the foreseeable future. To avoid any further complications, I went. Traffic was bad. I didn’t get there until eleven at night. The airport was brightly lit. Through the terminal glass, I saw Josh with his forehead resting on Dia’s shoulder, swaying back and forth like a child seeking comfort. I honked the horn, hard. The two lovebirds jumped apart like startled birds. Dia saw my face and stormed over, slapping the car window. “I told you to be here at seven! Look at the time!” I rolled the window down a crack and saw her face, pale from the cold. “There was traffic.” She was about to launch into another tirade, but I cut her off. “If you don’t get in the car, your precious junior is going to freeze to death.” That stopped her. Forgetting her anger, she quickly opened the back door and ushered Josh in. Then she looked at me, her eyes silently ordering me to get out and help with the luggage. I ignored her, pretending to be busy texting a colleague. Inside the car, Josh studied me through the rearview mirror. I met his gaze calmly, my eyes landing on the very familiar scarf wrapped around his neck. It was Dia’s. She wore it all the time in the winter. Last Christmas, she had finally agreed to see a movie with me. When we came out, I was shivering from the cold. I saw a guy next to us wrap his scarf around his girlfriend, telling her not to take it off. Envious, I nudged Dia, hinting. She just frowned. “Don’t even think about it. I don’t like sharing my scarf with people.” But now, her scarf was wrapped snugly around Josh’s neck. So, it wasn’t that she didn’t like sharing. She just didn’t like sharing with me. Josh noticed my stare and gave a sheepish smile. “It was really cold while we were waiting,” he said softly. “Dia let me wear it. Don’t get the wrong idea, Alex.” I smiled back. “It’s just a scarf. But really, Dia, you should know better. It’s freezing out. You should have just gotten a cab for him instead of making him wait for me. What’s the point of saving a few bucks on a fare if he gets sick? The doctor’s bills would cost more, right, Josh?” The smile on Josh’s face vanished. 4 The roads were empty this late at night, and I drove fast. As Dia had instructed, I dropped Josh off first. Soon, it was just the two of us in the car. I glanced over at her. “Let’s talk.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, her voice laced with irritation. “Does it have to be right now? I just got off a ten-hour flight. Can’t you let me rest?” Unlike before, I didn’t show any sympathy. “No,” I said flatly. “Some things are better sorted out now.” She scoffed. “What is there to talk about? It’s the same old thing, isn’t it? Marriage…” Her sarcastic remark was cut off by her ringing phone. She answered, and her expression changed instantly. “Okay, stay put! I’m coming!” She hung up and immediately tried to get out of the car. “We’re not done here,” I said, stopping her. She looked at me in disbelief, as if I were some kind of monster. “Josh fell in the bathroom! This is a life-or-death situation, I have to go check on him!” I let out a breath. “If he fell, he should call a doctor. By the time you get there, if it’s serious, a broken bone or something, do you really think you’ll be more help than a professional…” “Enough!” she roared. “You’re just jealous, aren’t you? You’re just afraid I’m going to leave you! Fine! You want to hear it? We’re breaking up! I, Dia Vance, am done with you! Is that clear enough?!” With that, she turned and ran toward the entrance of a nearby apartment complex. I watched her go, mouthing a single, silent word. “Yes.” Perhaps it was a case of misfortune in love, fortune in career. Two days later, my boss called. I was being recommended for a position at a new branch to develop a new market. It was a significant promotion with a substantial pay raise. I accepted without a second thought and booked a flight for the next day. That evening, some colleagues threw me a farewell party at a well-known local restaurant. As we walked in, I saw Dia disappearing into a private room nearby. I looked away, treating her like a stranger. Later, on my way to the restroom, I overheard her voice coming from that same room, loud and clear. “Marriage? When did I ever say I wanted to get married?” “I have a successful career and a bright future. Do you really think I’d settle for a man with no looks, no education, and no money?” Someone else chimed in, stirring the pot. “But Dia, you’ve been with him for ten years. If you break up with him, won’t he make a scene?” Dia was quiet for a moment, then laughed. “That’s easy. I’ll just string him along. He’s already in his thirties, completely wrapped around my finger. I can make him do whatever I want.” “Like for his birthday this year. He was begging me for a watch. I tore into him, and he didn’t dare say a word. But I still got him one. A cheap, twenty-five-dollar knockoff from some sketchy website. And you know what? He treasures it like it’s gold. Hahaha.” The room erupted in laughter. The fragile peace I had found was shattered. The old wounds were ripped open, and the pain was fresh and raw. I clenched my fists and walked away. After the party, I contacted a colleague whose family had a law firm. I handed over ten years’ worth of financial records. The lawyer took one look, raised an eyebrow, and assured me he’d get every penny back. The next morning, I was on a plane to a new city. When I landed and turned on my phone, there was a call from Dia. Her voice was more frantic than I had ever heard it. “Alex, what is wrong with you? You forgot to pay my mother’s medical bills! How could you forget something so important? You nearly killed her!” “And you haven’t been to see her at all this week, have you? What kind of son-in-law are you? I’m giving you one more chance. You have three minutes to transfer the money. Otherwise, we are done!” Listening to her shrill voice, all I wanted to do was laugh. It was her mother lying in that hospital bed. If she truly cared, she wouldn’t need me to remind her. If she were such a dutiful daughter, she would have paid the bill herself long ago. I flagged down a taxi and took one last look at her name on my screen. “Then, as you wish. We’re done.”

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“Never trust a man’s promises. Only trust a signed contract.” My mother said that on her deathbed. I didn’t understand it then. Not until my fiancé slid a prenuptial agreement across the table—one that listed the $600,000 I’d paid for our down payment as an “unconditional gift,” and stated that in a divorce, I would walk away with nothing. 1. The last of my mother’s life was trapped in her lungs, but her grip on my hand was iron. “Maya,” she rasped, her eyes, clouded by morphine, suddenly clear as glass. “I have nothing to leave you. I’ve been a fool my whole life, but I learned one thing…” “Never trust a man’s promises. Trust the ink. Trust the contract.” It was the last thing she ever said to me. It became the first rule I lived by. My name is Maya. I’m 27. I graduated top of my class from Columbia Law. The year I graduated, I had offers from every white-shoe law firm in Manhattan. My future was a straight line to a corner office. Then, a single piece of paper—a stage-four cancer diagnosis—dragged me back to earth. To take care of my mother, I abandoned my path to a seven-figure salary. I took a job at a small legal aid clinic in the Bronx. Five years. I buried my mother. I also got a front-row seat to the filth of human nature. I’ve seen a husband pull the plug on his sick wife to liquidate her assets. I’ve seen children throw their father’s ashes in a dumpster while fighting over his retirement account. I learned everything there is to know about the rot that can fester in marriage and blood. It made me cynical, and it made me tough as nails. 2. To most people, my job is a joke. “A glorified social worker,” they call it. “Noble, but… you know. Poor.” To my fiancé, Ben, it’s my single greatest feature. Ben’s a financial advisor at Morgan Stanley. He’s a man desperate to “marry up,” and I, apparently, am his ladder. My Ivy League degree makes me a “premium accessory” he can show off to his clients. The fact that I’m an orphan with no family connections, a “good-natured” (read: conflict-averse) personality, and a “simple” job makes me the perfect “support system.” Translation: I’m easy to control. He loves to put his arm around me at parties, his voice dripping with that perfect blend of pride and pity. “This is my fiancée, Maya. Columbia Law. She’s got such a good heart, she couldn’t stand the sharks in my world. She works in legal aid now. Basically charity.” He’d pause, his voice just loud enough for the whole room to hear. “I just focus on earning, so she can be free to be a saint.” It always gets a round of applause. He’s so “supportive.” I’m so “lucky” to have found a man who isn’t intimidated by my intelligence. And I just stand there and smile, my ribs aching from his grip. My passion, my profession… reduced to “saint.” As if my entire life’s work is a cute hobby he funds. Late at night, I’d tell myself he just didn’t have the right words. I’d look at the Pinterest board I’d made for our future apartment—bright, warm, and full of light. I thought if I just held on, the future we were building would make all of this feel small. 3. This slow, simmering gaslighting was just an appetizer. His mother served the main course. Every time I saw his mother, Karen, she’d start with: “Maya, honey, why are you working so hard? Ben’s bonus last quarter was $200,000. That’s more than you’ll make in… well… ever.” “That ‘legal aid’ thing… it sounds nice, but it doesn’t pay for nice things. Once you’re married, you need to quit. A man like Ben needs a wife at home, supporting his career. That’s the real work.” Ben, of course, would play the peacemaker. “Mom,” he’d laugh, “Maya has her passions.” Then he’d grab my hand under the table, squeeze it, and mouth, “Don’t listen. She’s old-school.” What could I say? I’d just swallow the bite of food in my mouth, along with my rebuttal. They didn’t understand. The cases I handled… the dollar amounts were small, but the stakes were everything: a child’s custody, a family’s last defense against eviction. They only understood dollars. 4. The first real crack appeared when we bought the condo. The down payment was a million dollars. I had my mother’s life insurance payout—$500,000—and every penny I’d saved for five years: $100,000. I sent Ben the wire transfer confirmation for $600,000. I added a note: “This is everything I have, for our home.” He replied almost instantly: “You’re amazing, babe! Got it!” He put in $400,000. At the sales office, the agent and the mortgage broker orbited Ben and his mother, calling him “Mr. Johnson,” laughing at his jokes, talking about equity and school districts. I was an afterthought, trailing behind them. “Excuse me,” I finally cut in, “what’s the HOA’s reserve fund? What are the covenants on renting? And is the parking spot deeded or assigned?” The room went silent. Ben’s mother shot me a look of pure annoyance. “Maya, honestly. Don’t worry your pretty head about that. That’s what the men are for.” Ben immediately jumped in, pulling me into a side-hug. “Babe, I got this. You just worry about what color we’re going to paint the nursery.” The two of them, a perfect tag team. I just stood there, my chest tight. 5. We got the condo. When we went to sign the final closing documents, I saw it. A stack of papers an inch thick. And on the deed, the line for “Grantee” read: Benjamin R. Johnson, a single man. My blood went cold. I held up the paper and just looked at him. He was ready. He pulled me aside, his face a mask of practiced, gentle patience. “Babe, listen, don’t freak out. I have a ‘first-time home buyer’ credit. It saves us a ton on the interest rate. We’re talking hundreds a month. Putting it in my name only is just… it’s just smart finance. It’s for us.” “I put in six hundred thousand dollars,” I said, my voice flat. “I know! Of course I know how much you’re sacrificing!” He grabbed my hands. His eyes were so sincere, he could have won an Oscar. “My money, your money… it’s our money, right? Does it really matter whose name is on a piece of paper? Don’t you trust me? Don’t you trust us?” There it was. The “trust” test. He was turning his cold, calculated fraud into a referendum on my love. If I questioned it, I was the one with the problem. I was the one being materialistic. I suddenly remembered a case. A woman, sobbing in my office. Her husband had convinced her to sell her pre-marital condo and invest the cash in his new business, “to build our dream together.” He filed for divorce six months later. She left with nothing. I’d thought, “How could anyone be so stupid?” Now, it was my turn. 6. I looked at Ben’s earnest, loving face. In my peripheral vision, I saw his mother, watching us. Her arms were crossed, a tiny, smug smile on her lips. In that instant, all my exhaustion, my frustration… it all just evaporated. It was replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was a strategy. A carefully planned hunt. And I was the prey. “Maya? Babe? It’s okay, right?” Ben was rubbing my arm, like I was a hysterical child. I took a deep breath. When I looked up, I was smiling again. The same warm, compliant smile I’d worn for years. “You’re right,” I said softly. “I’m sorry. I trust you.” Never forget, I told myself, what my mother said. She said to trust the contract. And today, I had just been conned out of mine. But I would have another. That night, in my own apartment, I created a new, encrypted folder on my laptop. I named it: “Ben Johnson – $600k Loan Evidence.” I saved the wire transfer confirmation. I saved our entire text history discussing the 60/40 split. Then, I opened the cloud drive for the digital recorder I carry. I clipped the audio from the sales office—Ben’s smooth, “it’s for us” speech—and saved it as “Exhibit A: Fraudulent Inducement.” 7. One week before the wedding, the “family dinner.” It was at a private room in a high-end steakhouse. Ben’s mother was in her element, “welcoming me to the family.” “Maya, honey, you’re a daughter to me now! If Ben ever gives you trouble, you just call me!” she said, squeezing my arm. Ben held my hand, staring at me like I was the only person in the world. Then, after the steaks were cleared, the main event. Karen, Ben’s mother, reached into her Hermès bag and pulled out a sleek, leather-bound folder. Her smile was beatific. “Maya, we’re all reasonable people here. We just believe in being transparent. It’s not about trust, honey. It’s just… business. A little security for Ben. And for you, too, of course.” She slid the folder across the table. On the cover, in embossed gold lettering: PRENUPTIAL AGREEMENT My heart was cold, but I smiled and opened it. Ben’s cousin, a first-year associate who had just passed the bar, leaned in, smelling of smugness and cheap perfume. “It’s standard for high-net-worth couples, Maya,” she explained, as if to a child. “Asset isolation. It’s just smart financial planning. You’re marrying a man who thinks about the future. You should be thrilled.” I ignored her. I read the contract. It was a work of art. Clause 1: The marital residence (the one I’d paid 60% of) is the sole and separate property of Ben Johnson. Clause 2: The $600,000 contributed by Maya for said property is hereby acknowledged as an unconditional gift. “Gift.” The word burned. Clause 3: Post-nuptials, all income earned by Maya shall be considered marital property. All bonuses, commissions, and investment returns earned by Ben shall be his separate property. They wanted a breadwinner and a maid, all in one. Clause 4: In the event of divorce, Maya voluntarily waives all rights to primary custody of any children born of the marriage. They had pre-emptively taken my children.

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1 The day they found long-lost daughter Isabella, she walked into my office and demanded my job—she wanted to be CEO. Given her middle-school education and zero corporate experience, I refused. Isabella took it as a grave insult. She stormed out with her adoptive parents and vanished without a trace. Under my leadership, Vance Enterprises went public. My adoptive parents, Richard and Carol Vance, became the city’s wealthiest couple. Then on my thirtieth birthday, they and my fiancé Ethan got me drunk and sold me to a human trafficking ring in the lawless eastern bloc. As I was dragged away, I saw them standing by the ringleader, faces twisted with hatred. “Take this black-hearted bitch,” they snarled. “She’s all yours.” I screamed, begging for answers. Ethan kicked me hard in the stomach. Richard and Carol each slapped me, the blows echoing. “If you hadn’t been so greedy, clinging to a fortune that never belonged to you,” they spat, “our Bella wouldn’t have been tricked, trafficked, and tortured to death.” The torment that followed was unbearable. In the end, I bit off my tongue and bled out. When I opened my eyes, I was back—on the exact day Isabella demanded I hand over the company. … “Ellie,” Isabella said, her voice cloyingly sweet, “now that I’m home, don’t you think you should give the company back to me? I want to take on my rightful responsibilities.” The familiar words sent a jolt of ice through my veins. My eyes shot to the clock on the wall. I was back. I had been reborn. Carol Vance, my adoptive mother, was hugging Isabella, her eyes red-rimmed as she looked at me. “Elara, you’ve worked so hard taking care of the company all these years,” she said, her tone syrupy but firm. “But Bella is our real daughter. I need you to draw up the papers. Transfer your shares to her.” In my past life, I had refused. I explained that the company was on the verge of its IPO; a sudden change in leadership would cause chaos. I told them Isabella, with no experience or understanding of the business, wasn’t ready. I suggested she start as my assistant, learn the ropes, and then take over when she was prepared. My adoptive parents had actually agreed. But Isabella had exploded. She shrieked that being my assistant was the same as being my slave, that I was deliberately humiliating her. She stormed out, disappeared with her adoptive family, and was never heard from again until news of her death reached us. After her disappearance, I took the company public, making the Vance family dynastically wealthy. On my thirtieth birthday, they took me on a celebratory trip abroad, where they drugged me. I woke up in a hellhole, my hands and feet bound, my body brutalized, while they stood by and watched. Ethan kicked me in my three-month-pregnant stomach. Carol and Richard slapped me until my face was numb. “This is what you owe her,” they’d hissed. “If you hadn’t shamed her, she never would have run away. She never would have died. This is all your fault.” So, they’d blamed me. They’d traded my life for their twisted sense of justice. Remembering the agony, the sheer, soul-crushing despair, my hands clenched into fists. I fixed Isabella with an icy glare and let out a cold laugh. “So, you just get back and you already want the company.” Isabella’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Ellie, I… I just wanted to do something for the family,” she sobbed. “I shouldn’t have come back. Please don’t be angry. I’ll leave right now. I won’t disturb your family anymore.” With that, she made a show of pushing Carol away, pretending to run for the door. Carol immediately wrapped her arms around Isabella, clutching her tight. “Bella, darling, this is your home,” she cooed, her face a mask of pain. “You’re not the one who should be leaving.” The next second, the back of her hand cracked across my face. She pointed a trembling finger at me, her voice shrill. “Elara! After we were kind enough to take you in, to raise you, this is how you repay us? By trying to steal our family’s fortune and drive our real daughter away? How could you be so venomous?” Richard Vance, my adoptive father, chimed in, his face a thundercloud of disapproval. “Elara, this is a Vance company. It belongs to our daughter by birthright. What gives you the authority to tell her to leave?” I laughed, a bitter, ragged sound. They seemed to have forgotten. It was Grandpa Vance who adopted me. Before he died, he put the company in my hands. At the time, it was on the brink of bankruptcy, drowning in over a hundred million dollars of debt. I was the one who begged and clawed and fought to save it, wrecking my own health in the process. Richard and Carol, knowing they had no clue how to run a business, had washed their hands of it, leaving me to clean up their mess. In return, I gave them a lavish monthly allowance to fund their endless parties and vacations. I was the one who personally bought back the majority of the company shares. The only reason I hadn’t changed the name from Vance Enterprises was out of respect for Grandpa Vance’s memory. And now they had the audacity to demand it back? I turned to Richard, my voice dripping with scorn. “Three years ago, when this company was collapsing, you threw me to the loan sharks. You told them I was the boss and they should come after me for the debt. Now that we’re about to go public, you want to hand it all to your daughter? Where do you get the nerve?” Richard’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. He raised a fist to strike me. “You ungrateful stray! We raised you! Managing this company was your duty, your way of paying us back! It belongs to my daughter! You were just keeping her seat warm.” I caught his wrist, twisted his arm back, and he howled in pain. The boardroom is a battlefield of its own; I’d spent three years learning Krav Maga to survive it. A pampered fool like Richard was no match for me. Carol charged at me, her hand raised to slap me again. I blocked her arm and shoved her, sending her stumbling to the floor. Her whole body trembled with rage. “Elara, you ungrateful monster! You dare to lay hands on us? You have no soul!” Isabella rushed to help them up, then knelt dramatically at my feet. “Ellie, this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have come back and disrupted your family. Please, don’t hurt Mom and Dad anymore. I’ll leave. I’ll disappear, I promise.” Richard and Carol clung to her, their eyes shooting daggers at me. “Elara, you’re the one who needs to get out.” I rolled my eyes and looked down at Isabella. “Fine. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your happy family reunion. I’ll have my lawyer draw up the papers to formally sever our ties.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out of the Vance mansion for the last time. Three days later, I was in a board meeting when my assistant burst in. “Ms. Vance, uh, Mr. and Mrs. Vance are downstairs with your sister. They’re causing a scene and demanding to see you.” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, and went downstairs. The moment Richard saw me, he started shouting. “Elara, this is the Vance family company! On what grounds are you barring us from entry?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “If you’d bothered to show your faces here more than once a decade, the security guards might actually recognize you.” Carol stepped forward, adopting a tone of magnanimous condescension. “Elara, in recognition of your years of hard work, we’ve decided you can stay on. But Bella will be the new CEO.” Richard shoved me aside and pulled Isabella into the center of the lobby. “From this day forward, my daughter, Isabella Vance, is in charge! Elara will assist her.” Isabella glided to my side. “You’ve worked so hard, sister. From now on, we’ll run the company together.” I scoffed. “You? You’re nothing. Do you really think being CEO is a title you can just claim? By company bylaws, the CEO must hold a majority of the voting shares.” Their faces darkened. They started screaming. “Shameless! After we raised you from nothing, you’re trying to steal our legacy and bully our daughter! You’re not fit to lead this company!” Just then, my fiancé, Ethan, appeared. “Elara, the Vances gave you everything. You can’t be this selfish,” he said, his voice laced with disappointment. “Give the company back to Bella. Once we’re married, you can be a stay-at-home wife. I’ll take care of you.” A humorless smile touched my lips. “Ethan, your engagement was to the Vance heiress. Well, she’s back. That makes Bella your fiancée. You and I are nothing. So who the hell do you think you are to lecture me? Do you even have the right?” Ethan’s face turned crimson with rage. Isabella immediately dropped to her knees again. “Ellie, I swear I never wanted to take Ethan from you! I just want what’s rightfully mine!” Ethan’s heart clearly melted. He rushed to pull her into his arms, then glared at me. “Elara, you’re a monster. Disowning your family just to hold onto power. You don’t deserve to marry me. If you don’t give this company back to Bella, the engagement is off.” I was tired of their theatrics. “You want the company? Fine. You can have it. But I have two conditions.” Ethan smirked, thinking he’d broken me. “As long as you give the company to Bella, we can get married immediately. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” I fought the urge to hit him and turned to Richard and Carol. “First, you sign the severance agreement. From this day forward, I have nothing to do with the Vance family. Second, the shares I hold were bought with my own money after you sold them off during the bankruptcy. If you want them, you’ll buy them from me. At current market value.” Their faces fell. “This is our family’s company! You want us to pay you for it?” I shrugged. “The shares I own are mine, legally and financially. They have nothing to do with you. You don’t have to buy them. The company is about to go public. The stock price will skyrocket. Plenty of other people will be lining up to buy them from me.” They gritted their teeth, huddled with Ethan, and after a long, whispered conference, they agreed. One billion dollars for my shares. The moment the papers were signed, Ethan wrapped an arm around Isabella, his eyes full of scorn. “Well, Elara, since you’ve chosen to burn every bridge, you can get the hell out of this building. This is Bella’s company now.” Isabella nestled against him, looking at me with undisguised triumph. “I hear the company is about to partner with the Dorff Corporation, the biggest conglomerate in the country. The stock value is going to increase tenfold. Thank you so much for giving me such a golden opportunity, Ellie.” My former parents looked just as smug. “You brought this on yourself, Elara. Don’t come crying to us when you regret it. But, out of the goodness of our hearts, if you want to be Bella’s assistant, we can offer you… say, fifteen hundred a month. Just so you don’t starve.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. Fifteen hundred a month to be their slave? They really thought I was an idiot. “No, thank you. As of today, this company and all of you are nothing to me.” I turned to leave. Ethan shouted after me, “Don’t come crawling back to us when you’re broke and starving on the street!” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. What kind of moron thinks someone with a billion dollars in cash is in any danger of starving? As soon as I was out of the building, I made a call. “Aunt Eleanor? It’s me. The partnership between Dorff and Vance Enterprises? Cancel it.” After I got her confirmation, I made another round of calls to the remaining shareholders I knew. I told them to dump every last share of Vance stock they owned. A massive sell-off would trigger panic. The stock would plummet. And that was just the beginning. Finally, I posted a public announcement on my social media accounts: I was officially resigning from Vance Enterprises. Then I went back to my private apartment, sank onto the couch, and began to plan. My debt of gratitude to Grandpa Vance was paid in my last life. This life was for revenge. The Vances and Ethan made me suffer a fate worse than death. Now, it was their turn. That evening, my aunt called. Richard and Carol probably never knew that a year ago, I’d found my biological family. My father’s sister, Eleanor Vance, was the Chairwoman of the Dorff Corporation and the wealthiest woman in the country. It was with her quiet backing that Vance Enterprises had grown from a struggling firm into a billion-dollar company on the verge of an IPO. Aunt Eleanor had no children and had been searching for me for years. When she found me and learned how I’d saved the Vance company, she’d wanted me to join Dorff Corp and eventually become her heir. I had refused, feeling bound by my duty to Grandpa Vance. Now, hearing that I’d finally cut ties, she made the offer again. I thought for a moment. “Aunt Eleanor, I want to build something of my own first. When I’ve proven myself, I’ll come back.” I didn’t want to be anyone’s heir. I wanted to be a founder. Understanding my resolve, she didn’t push. “Alright, Ellie. But if you need anything, you call me.” After we hung up, I dug up a business plan I’d written five years ago. It was my original dream, to build my own empire from the ground up, a dream I had sacrificed for the Vances. Now, I could finally begin. A month later, I posted job openings and my new company’s mission statement online. My phone immediately exploded. The first call was from Richard and Carol. I answered, and their smug, condescending voices filled my ear. “Elara, starting your own business, are you? It’s not as easy as it looks. If you come back now, apologize to Bella, and beg for her forgiveness, we’ll consider letting you have a job again.” The sheer arrogance was breathtaking. I hung up and blocked their numbers. Moments later, messages and résumés started pouring in from the core team at Vance Enterprises, my former employees. They all wanted to join my new venture. I was deeply moved, but I warned them: I was a startup. My initial capital was just over a billion dollars. It was a risk. They didn’t care. They said if I could rescue a dying company like Vance, I could build a new one into a powerhouse. They believed in me. I was grateful. A skilled, loyal team was exactly what I needed. I promised them all better salaries than they’d ever gotten at Vance. Within a week, my company was fully staffed and operational. As for clients, that was the easy part. I’d just take them from Vance Enterprises. After all, I was the one who had secured most of their major contracts in the first place. My new company was small, but I knew my own capabilities. Three nights later, I found myself across the table from one of Vance Enterprises’ most crucial partners, ready to make my first move.

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The moment the lab exploded, my fiancée, Jenna, sprinted past me. She ran toward Kyle, who was standing in the safest part of the room, and threw herself over him, shielding him with her own body. When the deafening roar subsided, she was the first to help him into the ambulance. She never even glanced at me—the man covered in blood and shrapnel, collapsed on the floor. He was the boy she had practically raised for eighteen years, the one who had taken over every inch of her heart. There was no room left for anyone else. A colleague got me to the hospital. I barely survived. The moment I was moved out of the ICU, I fought through a wave of agony and, with a voice raw and broken, called my professor. “Professor Miller, I’ve made my decision. I’ll join your confidential research project. I don’t care if it means leaving in a month and having no contact with anyone for the next five years. I’ll do it.” My wedding was supposed to be in one month. The day I had dreamed of for years. But I didn’t want it anymore. … In the hospital, visitors came and went. All my friends and family stopped by. But Jenna, my fiancée, only made a single phone call. “My sweet Kyle is an absolute mess, I can’t get away,” she’d said, her voice rushed. “You’ll just have to take care of yourself. I have to go, he won’t eat unless I feed him myself. You know how he is.” The “sweet Kyle” she was talking about was her nephew. How pathetic. After ten years together, my life was less important to her than her nephew’s dinner. It was Jenna who’d had a crush on me first, who chased me relentlessly. When other girls made fun of how poor I was, she’d gotten into a screaming catfight, scratching one girl’s face so badly she was nearly suspended. I loved the shrimp po’boys from a little place in the old quarter, and she’d go buy them for me, rain or shine. My grades in calculus were dragging me down, so she’d stay up all night creating study guides for me, breaking down my mistakes and explaining every concept. She was the one who had followed me around like a shadow, who confessed her love and told me she wanted to spend her life with me. And she was the one who, time and time again, abandoned me for Kyle. The fresh sting of my wounds was a constant, searing reminder: a woman who doesn’t love you should have been left behind long ago. I hardened my heart. I deleted every photo, every mention of her from my social media. Then, one by one, I sent a message to my friends and family. [The wedding next month is canceled. Please don’t make the trip.] Twenty-five days later, I checked myself out of the hospital and took a cab back to the house we were supposed to start our married life in. The giant, custom model aircraft I’d spent months sourcing for the front lawn were gone. In their place stood two massive Transformers. The swing I’d built for Jenna had been torn down, replaced by a huge, cartoonish sign that read: “Kyle & Auntie Jenna’s Love Nest.” Below the text were two cartoon figures, locked in a kiss. I didn’t have to ask. I knew it was Kyle’s doing. It wasn’t the first time he’d pulled a stunt like this. But no matter how absurd his demands, Jenna always indulged him. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I typed Kyle’s birthday into the keypad and let myself in. Five days. That’s all I had left before I left with Professor Miller. I needed to pack. I went straight upstairs. I never expected that when I pushed open the bedroom door, I would find them tangled together in my bed. Kyle was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. His lip was bruised, as if it had been bitten, and fresh scratch marks raked across his chest. Jenna, in a flimsy slip dress, was nestled against him, her body wrapped around his like a vine. On the floor, a black lace thong lay discarded. I thought I was prepared for anything. But seeing them like that, in my bed, sent a hot rush of blood to my head. This was my house. My bedroom. How could they do this to me? “Alex! You’re back! Why didn’t you say anything?” Jenna jolted awake, scrambling out of bed and hastily pulling on a robe. “It’s not what it looks like. Kyle and I didn’t do anything, don’t get the wrong idea!” Kyle stirred, awakened by the noise, and mumbled petulantly, “I’ve been scared of thunder since I was a kid. I can only ever sleep if I’m holding Auntie Jenna. Don’t tell me you’re going to be petty about something so small, Uncle Alex.” The sheer audacity of it all made me want to break down. But as I stood there, trembling with rage, I remembered the promise I’d made to myself when I left the hospital. I would not be her pathetic, lovesick puppy anymore. I would not lose my composure over her again. “There’s nothing to be petty about,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Don’t worry. Even if you started screwing right here in front of me, I wouldn’t stop you.” I turned to leave. I had to get out before I shattered. But Jenna lunged after me, grabbing my arm, her voice laced with fury. “Kyle and I have done nothing wrong! You’re his elder, how could you say something so disgusting to him? Do you have any idea how much psychological trauma that could cause him? Go apologize to him right now!” I ripped my arm from her grasp, the dam of my control finally breaking. “Psychological trauma? Kyle won’t eat his dinner? Is that all you can think about? Jenna, I was in the hospital for twenty-five days! I almost died! Did you spare even a single second to worry about me?” At the mention of the hospital, her anger faltered, replaced by a flicker of guilt. “It’s not that I didn’t want to visit you! It’s just… Kyle was so traumatized by the explosion. He needed me to comfort him. I couldn’t get away!” Her words extinguished the last ember of hope in my heart, leaving only cold, dead ash. The thousands of words I wanted to scream, the burning sting behind my eyes—it all just vanished. What was there left to fight for? Jenna didn’t love me anymore. That single sentence was the answer to every question I’d ever had. Kyle called for her from the bedroom. She shot me a frustrated look and snapped, “We’ll drop it for today. But don’t you ever speak to him like that again.” Then she was gone. Not one word about how I was. Not one question about my recovery. “So this is it,” I whispered to the empty room. “This is where it ends.” I stood there for a long time before finally moving to pack. I took my documents and a few changes of clothes. Everything else, I left. The last things to go were the dozens of portraits Jenna had painted of me when she was first trying to win me over. A friend of mine, an artist, had once joked, “These portraits have no technique, but they’re all emotion. I couldn’t paint something so full of feeling if I tried.” It was those portraits that had made me believe she truly loved me. I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. I carried the box of paintings outside and set them on fire. Jenna found me just as the flames began to lick at the canvases. She ran toward the fire, shoving me aside. She plunged her hands into the blaze, heedless of the heat, trying to rescue the pieces that hadn’t yet burned. “What are you doing?!” she shrieked, her voice trembling. I wanted to say, I don’t want them anymore. Instead, I said, “They were infested with termites.” For years, all we did was fight. I was so tired. I didn’t want to fight anymore. Jenna hesitated for only a second before tossing the singed paintings she’d saved back into the fire. “My sweet Kyle is terrified of bugs,” she said. “I’ll paint you new ones.” “Don’t bother.” There was no us anymore. The flames roared, then shrank, then died, leaving nothing but a pile of gray ash. Just like our love. I swept the ashes into a trash can and posted on my social media: [Five days, including today.] Then I went to the guest room, as far from the master bedroom as I could get, and fell into a dreamless sleep. 2 The next morning, I woke up to a flood of teasing comments on my post. Everyone assumed it was a countdown to the wedding. Jenna had even replied: [I can’t wait to walk down the aisle to you either.] She was the world’s greatest liar. My body and soul ached with exhaustion, and she still wanted to play the part of the happy couple. I didn’t have the energy to play along. I ignored everyone and went downstairs. At breakfast, Jenna asked, “Alex, our appointment to get the marriage license is this afternoon, right?” It was. But I had no intention of going. Before I could say anything, Kyle leaned over and draped an arm around Jenna’s shoulders. “Auntie Jenna, I just remembered. There’s a huge basketball game this afternoon, one I’ve been dying to see.” Jenna tapped his nose affectionately. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Kyle shrugged. “Just remembered. It’s not like I did it on purpose. If you’re too busy, I can just go by myself. I mean, it’s not like I’d mind getting hit on by a bunch of hot girls. Might even meet my soulmate.” He made a show of getting up to leave. “Wait!” Jenna jumped up and grabbed his hand. “I never said I wouldn’t go with you!” She turned to me, her expression pleading. “Alex, you see…” I scoffed. “Only the two of us can get the marriage license. Is there a law that says you have to be Kyle’s date to a basketball game?” Her face darkened. “Kyle is just a kid at heart. He’s been looking forward to this game for so long. Are we really going to let a little thing like our marriage license ruin it for him?” “If you were never going to listen to my opinion, why did you bother asking?” “Alex…” “Fine! I’m not stopping you. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve canceled. What’s one more? Kyle is the most important thing, after all. Go.” The old me would have screamed and argued, desperate to make her see how wrong she was. But now, I couldn’t summon the energy. Besides, I didn’t want to marry her anyway. Seeing that I wasn’t going to fight, Jenna’s expression softened. “See? You’re finally starting to be more understanding. Don’t worry, the wedding is still three days away. I promise we’ll get the license before then.” With that assurance, she and Kyle left, arms wrapped around each other. As they walked away, Kyle, nestled against a giggling Jenna, turned back, shot me a triumphant smirk, and flipped me the middle finger. “Auntie Jenna’s not coming home tonight! We’re gonna party hard, so don’t bother us, Uncle Alex!” I had had enough of their shameless behavior. I took out my phone, recorded a short video of them, and saved it to the special folder I kept for them—a collection of videos and photos of their overly intimate moments. I zipped the folder and sent it to the wedding planner. Hello, I’d like to change the photo and video montage that will be played during the ceremony. Please use these instead. Thanks. Then, I posted on my timeline: [Four days left.] They loved showing off their “affection” in front of me. I was just helping them share it with the world. In four days, everyone would get to see their touching “family bond.” The next day, Jenna called. “I won’t be back today or tomorrow. The tournament is a three-day event, and Kyle is having so much fun. I’ve watched him grow up. If I’m not there, I’m worried someone might take advantage of him.” I gave a noncommittal “uh-huh” and hung up. I spent the day at her company, finalizing my resignation. On the way home, I updated my status: [Three days left.] The tournament ended, but Jenna still didn’t come home. Another phone call. “I… I’m not coming home tonight either. Kyle threw me a surprise bachelorette party. You know, one last hurrah before the wedding. I know we have the rehearsal tomorrow and things are busy, but it was such a sweet gesture from him…” For the first time, she sounded unsure of herself, as if even she realized how ridiculous her actions were. In the background, I could faintly hear Kyle’s voice complaining, “Auntie Jenna, when you lose a game and have to kiss someone, you don’t have to bite my lip so hard!” Jenna abruptly hung up. I said nothing. I just systematically went through the house and had movers throw out everything that had a connection to me. The clothes I’d bought her, the lamps I’d chosen, the furniture and dishes I’d picked out. Anything and everything that was mine. [The final day!] I looked around the empty, cavernous house and posted one last time. After today, no matter how much love, hate, or resentment I felt, I was done with Jenna and Kyle for good. Jenna commented: [Don’t worry, darling. This party won’t affect our wedding at all. I’ll be there on time tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you to make me your wife!] But whether she was on time or not, I had no intention of marrying her. I didn’t reply. I just stared at the ceiling until dawn. The next day, at the wedding, the officiant prompted me to get on one knee and present the ring. I looked at Jenna, radiant and smiling in her white gown, and I said, “We’re through, Jenna. I don’t want a woman as tainted as you.” Then, in front of all her friends and family, I turned, grabbed the suitcase I had waiting, and walked out to the helicopter my professor had arranged.

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In our suite, we were like sisters. We did everything together—brunch, late-night library meltdowns, borrowing each other’s clothes. We had a rule: We don’t let anyone mess with our girls. We celebrate everything. So today, my twentieth birthday, I woke up practically buzzing. Then, I saw their Instagram post. The three of them, at Seoul’s Fire, my absolute favorite, impossible-to-get-a-reservation-at Korean BBQ place. The caption, under a photo dump of them clinking soju glasses, read: “Besties who K-BBQ together, stay together! 🥢🔥” I was alone in my dorm, pulling the comforter over my head as the tears started to fall. 1 Last month, for Mia’s birthday—she’s the baby of the group and obsessed with cute guys—we special-ordered this insane, multi-layer cake from that bougie bakery downtown. We even tipped the delivery guy, who looked like a total frat god, an extra twenty bucks to sing “Happy Birthday” at the door. Mia’s shriek was legendary. We all laughed until we cried. We were that close. So I was dreaming big for my birthday. It was a Saturday. A whole day. What would the surprise be? That professional Copic marker set I’d been drooling over for art class? A road trip? Or maybe… Seoul’s Fire? I was smiling about it in my sleep when I woke up to… noise. It was 9 AM. The three night owls—Jessica, Leah, and Mia—were actually up before noon, doing makeup, rummaging through closets, zipping bags. A little thrill went through me. I pretended to just wake up, mumbling, “Why are you guys up so early?” Mia, balanced on her desk chair, popped her head up. “It’s gorgeous out! We’re hitting the mall. You in?” Before I could even answer, Jessica cut in, not even looking up from her mascara. “Chloe’s gotta study for the GREs. We can’t distract her, right? She’s in the zone.” “The GRE isn’t for two months,” I said, my voice small. “I can take today off.” I don’t think they even heard me. There was a flurry of perfume and the jangling of keys, and then the door clicked shut. The room was silent. I stared at the ceiling, and one thought calmed me down: They had to be planning a surprise. This was just a diversion. Just like we’d scouted three different bakeries for Mia’s cake. My heart settled. I rolled over, smiling, and fell back asleep. I dreamed we were at some karaoke bar, screaming Taylor Swift songs off-key, Leah spraying us all with silly string. I woke up with that smile still on my face. The room was still empty. I grabbed my phone. 11:03 AM. It was dead silent. No “Happy Birthday!” texts. No notifications. Even our group chat, “Suite 402’s Finest,” usually blowing up with memes, was a ghost town. A knot tightened in my stomach. What surprise takes this long to set up? I opened Instagram. First post. Jessica. A nine-photo carousel. The sizzling grill, the endless plates of banchan, the three of them laughing so hard Mia was blurry. And that caption. “Besties who K-BBQ together, stay together! 🥢🔥” It was the place. The one with the premium wagyu I’d been talking about for months. The one Jessica had said was “way too expensive” and “a total rip-off.” Leah had said, “We should save it, go for a really special occasion.” I guess my birthday wasn’t special enough. I stared at the pictures. They looked so happy. So complete. Without me. Someone from the next suite over, a girl named Lauren, commented: Where’s Chloe?? 😢 Jessica replied instantly. Ugh, she’s chained to her desk studying for the GREs! We can’t drag our little genius down! 😜 A winky-face emoji. It felt like a bucket of ice water. My blood ran cold. They hadn’t just forgotten. They’d actively lied. But why? I scrolled through my texts, my brain spinning. We hadn’t fought. There was no drama. Maybe it’s a misunderstanding? I thought. Maybe they just wanted me to study? But Jessica was studying for the GREs, too. And she was there, front and center, holding up a piece of galbi. I wanted to call them. To scream. But my pride wouldn’t let me. I just laid there, feeling hollow. 2 Then my mom called. “Happy birthday, sweetie! Did you get the Venmo I sent? What are the girls doing for you? Are you guys going out?” My throat closed up. The tears I’d been holding back started to sting. I turned toward the wall, trying to keep my voice steady. “Thanks, Mom! I’m actually… at the library right now.” I whispered, trying to sound like I was being quiet for other people. “On your birthday? At the library?” “Yeah, we’re all studying for the GREs,” I lied, the words tasting like ash. “It’s a huge grind. We’re gonna go out later tonight, though. A big celebration.” “Oh, okay, honey. Well, don’t study too hard! Love you!” “Love you too, Mom. Gotta go, don’t want to bother people.” I hung up fast, and the tears I’d been holding back just… broke. I buried my face in my pillow and cried, fat, silent tears dropping onto the sheets. The feeling of being dumped, of being left out, was so heavy I could barely breathe. After a while, I dried my eyes, pulled myself out of bed, and ordered a single vanilla cupcake from DoorDash. I washed my face, grabbed my backpack, and went to the campus pond. The bakery, bless them, had seen my “Happy Birthday to Me” note and sent two little number candles: a ‘2’ and a ‘0.’ I stuck them in the frosting. I didn’t have a lighter. I closed my eyes. “I wish,” I whispered to the ducks, “to always be strong enough to handle anything.” I “blew” out the imaginary flames and ate the whole thing. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the library, and honestly, my focus was razor-sharp. I aced a practice test. At 8 PM, I grabbed a container of Pad Thai from the place off-campus and headed back. I slid my key into the lock. The door swung open into total darkness. I fumbled for the light switch. Before I could hit it— POP! My heart leaped into my throat as confetti and streamers rained down on me. “Don’t turn on the light!” Mia yelled. Three phone flashlights clicked on, blinding me. Jessica was holding a small, slightly lopsided birthday cake, singing “Happy birthday to you…” Mia and Leah chimed in, filming me with their phones. The song finished. “Make a wish, Chloe!” Jessica cheered, her smile huge. I just stood there. My Pad Thai was getting cold in my hand. Then, click. I flipped the main light switch. 3 The harsh fluorescent light made them all blink. Their smiles froze. “Surprise!” Mia yelled, a little weaker this time. “Aren’t you surprised?” “Surprise what?” I asked. My voice was flat. Dead. “A surprise?” I set my takeout on my desk. “You mean… ditching me to go to Seoul’s Fire, the one place I’ve been dying to go, and then lying about it on Instagram for the whole campus to see?” The silence in the room was so thick you could cut it. The only sound was the sizzling of the cheap candles, wax dripping onto the frosting. “Chloe, listen, it’s not like that…” Mia started, putting her phone down. She reached for my arm. I pulled away. “Explain what? Explain how you ‘forgot’ me? On my birthday?” “No!” Jessica snapped, shoving the cake into Leah’s hands. “We… we were checking it out for you! Scout mission!” “Yeah! Scout mission!” Leah echoed, nodding way too hard. “It’s so expensive, we wanted to make sure it was, like, actually good before we took you!” A laugh, cold and bitter, escaped my lips. “A scout mission. Right. Does a scout mission require a nine-photo carousel? And a public comment about how I’m too busy studying to be ‘dragged down’?” “I…” Jessica’s eyes darted around. “I just didn’t want you to see it and spoil the real surprise! This! This is the real surprise!” “Oh, really?” I said. “Well, thanks for being so thoughtful. I’ve only been feeling like garbage all afternoon because of your ‘scouting’.” “What is your problem, Chloe?” Jessica’s voice got sharp. She dropped the nice-girl act. “We ran all over town to get you this cake, we didn’t even eat dinner, and you walk in and give us this attitude? After all the trouble we went to? You’re being so ungrateful!” I was so stunned by the gaslighting I actually laughed. “Trouble? For me? You went to a hundred-dollar-a-person barbecue… for me? You posted ‘sisterhood’ selfies… for me? Jessica, I’m asking you seriously, did you think about me, me, for one second today?” “God, Chloe, don’t be so sensitive,” Leah muttered, frowning. “We just thought you were stressed about the GREs and wanted to study. We didn’t think you’d even see the post…” “You didn’t think I’d see the post.” I repeated. That was the most ridiculous lie of all. “You know what? Save it.” I was done. The string inside me just… snapped. “The cake looks great. You guys enjoy it. I’m not hungry.” “From now on, let’s just be… roommates. This whole ‘best sisters’ act… I’m tired.” I yanked my bed curtain shut, climbed into my bunk, put in my earbuds, and blasted music until my ears buzzed. I heard them arguing in whispers below me. Jessica’s voice was the loudest, sharp and indignant. Later, I heard the thud of the cake box hitting the communal trash can. That night, our group chat stayed silent.

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When I was in the hospital, my husband of nearly fifty years, at 70, ran into his old flame. He divorced me on my deathbed to marry her. And my own daughter, the A-list actress I’d worked my whole life to support, posted a picture of them on Instagram with the caption: “True love wins. So happy for my Mom and Dad.” The rage literally killed me. Then I opened my eyes. And I was back on the day of my engagement party. **1** Everything felt hazy, like a dream. I was standing in front of a full-length mirror, dressed in a stunning ivory gown for my engagement party with Ethan. God, I was so young. Healthy. No trace of the illness that had wasted me away. I was beautiful and full of life. I glanced down at the diamond ring on my finger, the one I had cherished for a lifetime. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. In my last life, I was so sick and frail that the ring was constantly slipping off my bony finger. But it was the first thing Ethan had ever given me, so I refused to take it off. He, however, let his long-lost love, Tiffany, rip it violently from my hand. When I tried to fight for it, he’d snapped at me, his voice dripping with annoyance. “It’s just a ring, Clara! It doesn’t even fit you anymore. Tiffany likes it, so let her have it. You’re dying, for God’s sake, can you stop being so petty? Just rest, don’t work yourself into another episode!” While I lay dying, he didn’t even have the decency to wait. He married Tiffany in a rush. He stood by my hospital bed, shamelessly declaring, “If it weren’t for a misunderstanding back then, we would’ve never broken up! She’s been waiting for me all these years, Clara. I can’t let her down again! Hate me if you want, but I’m marrying her!” I’d already done my research. Tiffany had spent the last few decades as a kept woman, bouncing between wealthy old men until her looks faded. She only came back to Ethan for his money. But he wouldn’t believe me. Even our daughter, Ava, the movie star whose career I had built from the ground up, stabbed me in the back, defending them online for the world to see. “True love wins. So happy for my Mom and Dad.” The betrayal, the sheer fury of it all, was what finally stopped my heart. And now, I was back. With a chance to cut him out of my life like the cancer he was. We were on the stage at the reception hall. The officiant was reciting the vows, prompting us to exchange rings. I just stood there, silent. The entire room went quiet. Ethan nudged me, his voice a tense whisper. “Clara, the rings!” Slowly, I pulled the ring from my own finger. I took the microphone from the officiant’s hand and faced our guests. “Everyone,” I announced, my voice clear and steady. “I’m so sorry to have you all come out here for nothing. The engagement between Ethan and myself is officially cancelled. Please, feel free to leave.” A wave of gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Ethan stared at me, his face a mask of disbelief. He grabbed my arm. “Clara, what the hell are you talking about? What is this? A joke?” he hissed. “You’re the one who pushed for this engagement, and now you’re calling it off? Are you trying to make a fool out of me?” I looked at him, at his self-righteous anger, and felt nothing but cold pity. How dare he act like the victim? “Why is it cancelled?” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Ethan, you should be asking yourself that. If you don’t love me, why did you agree to marry me?” He just looked confused and impatient. “What nonsense are you spouting now, Clara? Let’s just get this over with. I have to get back to the office for a meeting.” Of course. The office. It was the same in our last life. As soon as the party was over, he was gone. Well, let’s see how busy he is when a different woman is involved. I turned and pointed toward the ballroom entrance, where a familiar figure was just walking in. “Fine,” I said. “Tell me you love me, right here, in front of her. Tell me you’ll only ever love me, and we can continue.” **2** The moment Ethan saw Tiffany standing by the door, his face went dark. I knew it. He was still in love with her. He was only marrying me because everyone—our friends, our families—expected it. It was my “reward” for being the good, supportive partner. We’d been together for seven years. We built our company, Innovatech, from the ground up. I was the one making cold calls and closing deals in the beginning, and I was the one who played the perfect corporate wife when we made it. Everyone loved me. This engagement was their idea as much as it was mine. I’d pressured him, and he’d finally, reluctantly, agreed. But he’d used “work” as an excuse to avoid every single aspect of the planning. This party was the first and only thing he’d shown up for. In my last life, I thought he was just emotionally reserved. I thought if I just loved him harder, was more patient, I could warm his heart. I wasted a lifetime trying. I’m not doing it again. If he wants Tiffany so badly, he can have her. His eyes were cold as ice as he stared at me. “Clara, who gave you the nerve to invite her here? Are you insane?” He was always so calm, so composed. Seeing him lose his cool like this was almost funny. “You said you wanted to continue,” I reminded him. “So say it. Say you love me.” He wasn’t playing along. “Clara, have you had enough? If you want to throw a tantrum, do it at home after the party is over! Officiant, let’s proceed!” “Wait!” I interrupted again. This time, I reached up, pulled the veil from my hair, and tossed it onto the floor. I walked off the stage and grabbed Tiffany’s arm, pulling her into the center of the room. “Ethan, you can’t even say you love me, can you? Not with your old flame standing right here,” I declared. “But you don’t have to struggle. Our engagement is off. You two can have this one instead!” I gave Tiffany a subtle look. That was her cue. Right on schedule, tears started streaming down her face like a broken faucet. She choked out, “Ethan, I had a reason for leaving you back then! A good reason! I love you, please, don’t marry her. I’m begging you!” **3** The first thing I did after I came back was call Tiffany. I told her to come and crash the party. She didn’t believe me at first. But Tiffany is, and always has been, greedy. All I had to do was mention Ethan’s success. “He owns Innovatech now. You can look it up, the company’s worth a fortune. I’m giving you a shot. Whether you take it or not is up to you.” “Why are you helping me?” she’d asked, suspicious. “Because I’m sick of hearing him whisper your name in his sleep,” I lied smoothly, a plausible excuse. “But I have one condition.” Seeing her take the bait, I laid out my terms. “I co-founded that company. My name might not be on the deed, but I poured my blood and sweat into it. When you two get together, I want my half. You have to help me get it. Otherwise, you’ll never find out where this party is.” She agreed instantly, of course. And she didn’t disappoint. Her little performance was all it took to shut Ethan up. His eyes were red as he stared at her. He tried to sound cold, but the emotion was raw in his voice. “You think I’ll believe a word you say? I’m not that same stupid kid anymore, Tiffany! You can’t fool me again!” Wiping her tears, Tiffany reached for his hand and dropped the bombshell. “Ethan, I know you hate me, and I don’t blame you. But… for the last seven years, I’ve been raising our son. Please, just give me another chance.” A son? They had a son? I felt a flash of ironic humor. This was even better than I’d planned. A secret love child was the perfect tool to ensure everyone would push them together. The awkward whispers among our friends started immediately. “Oh my god, they have a son? She raised his kid alone for seven years? Wow, that’s… that’s true love, I guess.” “Yeah, seven years is a long time to do that on your own. Ethan, you gotta think about this.” “I mean, this is really unfair to Clara, but… a kid’s involved. For the kid’s sake, Ethan has to be with Tiffany.” Ethan’s parents, who valued family legacy above all else, suddenly found their voices. “Ethan, what are you waiting for?” his father boomed. “You want my grandson calling some other man ‘Dad’? Not on my watch!” “Exactly!” his mother chimed in. “And Clara’s the one who called it off anyway! We can just switch the bride! Everyone’s already here, we can’t let all the money we spent on this party go to waste!” Ethan was still hesitating when the main doors swung open. A little boy came running in, heading straight for Tiffany. He tugged on her dress, his face bright with excitement. “Mommy, you said we found my daddy! Where is he? Who’s my dad?” **4** That was it. The kid sealed the deal. Any doubt Ethan had vanished. He turned to me, his expression a mess of guilt and relief. “Clara… I’m so sorry. You see how it is. Tiffany… she had my son. I can’t turn my back on them. I know you’re hurt, but today… I have to get engaged to Tiffany.” I managed a magnanimous smile. Hurt? Please. This was all my doing. “If you’re really sorry, then don’t give me a hard time when we’re dividing the company assets. I’ll come by the office next week to discuss the details. For now, I won’t interrupt your… happy reunion.” Hearing me mention the company, Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but the little boy threw his arms around his legs. “Daddy! You’re really my daddy!” I used the distraction to make a quick exit. The guests just stood there, stunned into silence. I mean, who officiates an engagement where the bride gets swapped out halfway through? But what could they say? As soon as I was out of the ballroom, I found the hotel manager. “I’m sure you’ve heard,” I said calmly. “I’m no longer the bride. You’ll need to get the final payment for this event from the groom.” I had planned this party to be perfect, sparing no expense. The original plan was to cover any overages from my personal savings. Now? Let Ethan bleed for it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to completely ruin their party. It’s just that I had a bigger war to fight: the one for my company. I built Innovatech. There was no way in hell I was just handing it over to him. “Sir,” I added, putting on a pained expression. “I’ve just been publicly humiliated. I’m worried he might try to slander me later. Could I possibly get a copy of the security footage from the ballroom? Just to protect myself.” The manager was hesitant, citing guest privacy. But money talks. A discreetly passed envelope later, and the footage was on its way to my email. This time, I was going to be the one to burn it all down. And I was going to enjoy every minute of it.

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The call came just before my bone marrow donation. It was my brother, Henry. “Hey,” he said casually, “if I get your marrow, will I turn out ugly like you?” I was too on edge to process it at first. He continued, “I’m grateful, but I’ve always liked Talia more. She’s beautiful. Giving me your marrow… that’s your duty as my sister, right?” His words struck like a blow, leaving my mind blank. Then my parents chimed in from the background. “Henry, stop,” my mother said mildly, “your sister is about to have surgery.” Then she added, “But he’s not wrong. Don’t get worked up.” “You’ve never been a beauty, Nora,” my father rumbled. “Not like Talia. She’s pretty and charming. Everyone likes her.” Suddenly, it clicked. This wasn’t just about my looks—it was punishment for calling off my engagement after discovering my ex was cheating with Talia. Fine. If that’s how they felt, there was nothing left to say. I swung my legs off the hospital bed and began removing the sterile gown. My parents rushed over. “What are you doing? Stop making a scene.” “Let go of me,” I said, my voice low and cold. “Or I’ll call security.” 1 My mother grabbed my arm. “The doctors will be here any minute! What are you doing? Do you want to make us a laughingstock?” My father’s eyes were filled with disgust. “A man who cheats before the wedding is only going to be worse after. Talia took a bullet for you and shielded you from disaster. You should be thanking her, not holding a grudge.” I tilted my head back and let out a cold, sharp laugh. The story was pathetically simple. My cousin Talia, the girl who had spent her entire life trying to take everything that was mine, had finally snatched my fiancé, too. She’d done it at our engagement party, wrapping her arms around him right in front of me. I’d lost my mind and demanded we call the whole thing off on the spot. Ever since, my parents had blamed me for ruining Talia’s reputation. “How’s Henry doing?” Just as we were locked in our standoff, Talia herself appeared in the doorway, a vision of concerned grace. My parents’ faces instantly softened. “Talia! What are you doing here?” As if summoned by a psychic link, my brother Henry burst out of the sterile isolation ward, ignoring the frantic protests of the nurses. “Talia! I knew you’d come see me!” I watched as they all flocked around her, a bitter taste rising in my throat. Talia’s eyes found me, and she offered a gentle smile, holding out a small, elegant gift bag. “I wanted you to have some wedding favors,” she said sweetly. “I’m getting married this weekend. Your uncle said you’d probably still be in the hospital, so… we didn’t send an invitation.” My eyes burned with rage. I glared at her, and Henry immediately jumped in front of her, shielding her like a knight. “Why are you looking at her like that?” he snarled. “You’re an ugly, vicious witch! No wonder no one wants you!” He took a step closer, his face contorted with disgust. “The thought of having your marrow inside me makes my skin crawl!” I froze. Was this really my brother? The same brother I had been caring for day and night since his diagnosis, ever since we found out I was a perfect match? Now, for Talia, he could say something so vile. With a monumental effort, I fought back the tears and turned to my parents, my last hope. My mother stepped forward and smoothed the collar of my shirt. For a second, the warmth of her hand on my neck made my heart ache, and the tears threatened to spill over. But then she spoke. “You have always been such a disappointment,” she sighed. “The surgery is in an hour. Why must you always cause trouble?” “Look at Talia. She’s so busy with work, yet the moment she heard Henry was having his operation, she rushed right over. And then there’s you.” Her voice dripped with condescension. “This is why everyone loves her, Nora. And why no one loves you.” Her words landed, and every sacrifice I’d ever made for them turned into a cruel joke. In that moment, something inside me snapped. I grabbed my donation consent form from the bedside table and, with a single, violent motion, tore it to shreds. My mother lunged for me, but I shoved her back. My brother started to shout something, and I slapped him, hard, across the face. “You give me…” Before I could finish, a storm of slaps rained down on me. I instinctively curled into a ball, shielding my head as my father’s rage descended. I stumbled backward until I crashed to the floor. He stood over me, panting, his eyes bloodshot. “Get out! You are no daughter of mine.” His voice was raw with fury. “We don’t need you. Someone else can donate to Henry.” It was as if I’d been waiting to hear those words my whole life. The last, stubborn thread of hope inside me finally died, and in its place, I felt a wave of absolute, liberating peace. Now, I could finally leave them for good. 2 I used a nearby bed to pull myself to my feet. My parents and my brother were clustered together, protectively surrounding Talia, staring at me as if I were a wild animal. A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside me. I never knew they were so afraid of me. Sensing my resolve, my mother tried a different tactic, her voice softer now. “Don’t be so dramatic. Families say things they don’t mean. Are you really going to abandon your brother?” “No matter what, we’re family,” she pleaded. “If you want, I’ll apologize on their behalf. I’m his mother, I’ll get on my knees. I’ll do anything, if you’ll just stay and save Henry. I’ll be your servant for the rest of my life, how about that?” Talia glided over, taking my hand. “Everyone was just emotional,” she cooed. “Your parents are getting older; we should be more understanding. Besides, if you leave, what will happen to Henry? You’re his sister. Can you really bear to watch him die?” I almost laughed in her face. “If I leave, he’ll still have you, won’t he? You were a match, too, remember?” After my uncle—Talia’s father—died in a car accident and his wife remarried, my dad brought Talia to live with us. Perhaps out of guilt or nostalgia for his late brother, my parents began to shower her with affection, growing colder and more distant with me each day. It’s true what they say—being loved makes you bloom. The more they doted on her, the more beautiful and radiant Talia became. I, on the other hand, was thin, sallow, and unremarkable. Whenever we went out, people would praise my parents for raising such a wonderful girl in Talia. As they soaked in the compliments, their resentment towards me grew. At the dinner table, any plate with meat on it was always placed in front of Talia. If I dared reach for a piece, my father would slap my hand away. “Were you raised in a barn? Look at you, like a starved stray. It would be a waste of good food anyway.” My entire childhood was a battle against this injustice. So, as an adult, I threw myself into my work. I gave them everything I had, desperate to prove I was better, more successful, more worthy of their love than Talia. When Henry was diagnosed with leukemia, I was the first to get tested. Even though both Talia and I were matches, I rushed to the hospital to sign the consent forms without a second thought. And what did it get me? The unloved child is always invisible. No matter how much I gave, I would always be the one they despised. Rather than pour my life into a bottomless pit, leaving was the only choice I had left. 3 I grabbed the duffel bag I’d kept with me at the hospital. It was filled with things for Henry—special foods, clean clothes, everything he’d need. Now that I was leaving, I wouldn’t be taking them with me. I turned and handed the bag to my parents and Talia, explaining each item. “After this incident, the doctors will be even stricter about his isolation. These apples and pears need to be steamed before he can eat them. And this…” My voice broke. “This is a plane ticket to Sweden for him. The air quality there is better; it’s good for recovery.” My vision blurred with tears. I looked up and saw their faces, still masks of arrogance and disgust. I wiped my eyes, turned, and threw the entire bag into the trash can. I ripped the plane ticket in half. “Hey! What are you doing? You said that was for me!” Henry yelped, reaching out as if to stop me. I shoved the bag deeper into the bin. “You want it? Go ask your precious Talia to buy it for you.” I turned back to the four of them. “If there’s nothing else, you can leave now. I need to change.” They stared at each other, stunned. It seemed they never expected me, the family doormat, to finally grow a spine. When my parents still didn’t move, Talia gave Henry a subtle look. The two of them each took an arm and escorted the older couple out of the room. Through the glass window in the door, I saw the four of them huddled together, with Talia at the center, plotting. My mother kept glancing nervously in my direction. I don’t know when it started, but every family decision, big or small, was made by the four of them, without me. I used to cry and scream about being excluded, only to be told, “Are you crazy?” My only confidant was my dog, Daisy. I hugged her every night just to be able to fall asleep. When Talia found out, she must have said something to my parents, because they exploded at me. “You don’t even care about your own family, but you cuddle that stupid dog all day,” my father had yelled. “You’re losing your humanity.” He threw a knife at my feet and locked both me and Daisy out on the balcony. “You can come back in when you’ve killed that animal,” he’d said. “Otherwise, you can starve out there.” Then, he, my mother, Talia, and Henry all left for a week-long vacation. It was the dog days of summer. The heat on the balcony was suffocating. For seven days, I survived on dog food and sips of rainwater. But my poor Daisy… the heatstroke took her. When my parents returned, they didn’t ask how I’d survived. They only asked, “Are you done with your nonsense now?” After that, I stopped fighting. No matter how close the four of them were, I never protested again. After packing my things, I was ready to leave. Henry pushed the door open, an impatient look on his face. “Fine, I’m sorry, okay? You’re my sister. I shouldn’t have called you ugly. I shouldn’t have called you a witch.” He sighed dramatically. “There. I said it. Now you should go apologize to Mom, Dad, and Talia.” I just rolled my eyes. “Thank God I didn’t give you my marrow. You don’t deserve it.” Growing up, he had always been the bully. I had never said a harsh word to him in my life. Hearing me now, he flew into a rage, raising his fist. “Don’t push it! Who the hell do you think you are, acting like everyone owes you something?” I shrugged. “If you’re done talking, move. Good dogs don’t block the door.” He laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Walk out that door and you’re never coming back. Mom and Dad will never forgive you!” The spot where my father had hit me still throbbed with a burning pain. A family like this, a home like this… I was better off without them. Talia approached, her eyes red-rimmed. “This is all my fault. I’ll make sure Henry and your parents spend more time with you from now on,” she pleaded. “Everything they buy for me, I’ll give it to you. If that’s not enough, I’ll leave. I’ll go away and I won’t come back until you’ve forgiven them.” For all her supposed tears, not a single one fell. It was her classic routine, and I was sick of it. But some people always fell for it. Henry, who had just “apologized,” was now her champion again. “Talia, why are you begging her? We like you because we want to. Some people are just born to be hated.” Behind Henry’s back, Talia’s tearful eyes were filled with triumph and provocation. The sight made me nauseous. She grabbed my hand again. “It’s my fault. Please don’t go.” I was so tired of her games. I tried to pull my hand away, but somehow, in the movement, she stumbled back and knocked over a thermos of hot water sitting on a table. It splashed all over her arm, instantly turning her fair skin an angry red. Before I could even process what had happened, Henry’s fist connected with my face. “You just had to take it too far, didn’t you!” he screamed. “She apologized to you! What more do you want?” He grabbed my shirt. “I’ve hated you for years! If Talia hadn’t stopped us, Mom and Dad would have kicked you out long ago!” I tried to fight back, but before I could even raise my arm, my father clamped it in an iron grip. “You ungrateful viper. I knew this day would come.” My mother, ever my father’s loyal supporter, jumped in, grabbing a fistful of my hair. “How could you attack your own family? You have no conscience!” Fearing a scene in the hallway, they dragged me by my hair to the far corner of the room. As I struggled, I managed to pull out my phone and dial 911, screaming my location into the receiver. Seeing the phone, Henry lunged, snatched it, and stomped it into pieces. “What are you doing? Do you want the cops to arrest Mom and Dad?” When they finally stopped, I was a bloody mess on the floor, every inch of my body screaming in pain. I stared at them with pure hatred. “Unless you kill me right here, right now, I’m going to make sure the police arrest every single one of you.” My mother and brother flinched, but my father stood his ground. “So what? I was disciplining my own child. What’s that got to do with the police?” Thankfully, the police arrived quickly. My father was still fuming. My mother immediately pointed at me. “Officer, arrest her! She promised to donate bone marrow to her brother, he’s already in the sterile ward, and now she’s backing out!” “And she assaulted us!” she shrieked, holding up Talia’s scalded arm for the officer to see. “This woman is a menace to society!” The officer looked at Talia’s arm, then at my bleeding face. His expression grew grim. “This constitutes assault. All of you are coming down to the station.” My father, who had been silent, suddenly spoke up. “My daughter didn’t hit anyone,” he said firmly. “She’s planning on applying for a government job soon. A police record would ruin her future.” The daughter he was referring to, of course, was Talia. He would move heaven and earth for her. To make me drop the charges, my father transferred ten thousand dollars to my account as “compensation.” I accepted the money, then looked him straight in the eye. “Some things can’t be solved with money.” My parents glared at me, wishing they could devour me whole. “What else do you want?” “Simple,” I said. “I’m going to the records department.” “I, Nora Harris, am formally and completely cutting all ties with you.”

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On our fifth wedding anniversary, Josh Mason finally showed up, holding a baby. “Accept this child,” he said, his voice low and steady, “and you can remain Mrs. Mason.” A wave of murmurs rippled through the guests. Everyone knew how desperately I loved Josh. Everyone assumed that, just like every other time, I would yield. I rose to my feet, and with a gentle push, sent the champagne tower behind me crashing to the floor. I stared coldly at the man before me. “As you wish,” I said, my voice cutting through the chaos. “Let’s get a divorce.” Josh’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Is it really so hard for you to adopt a child?” Adopting a child wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was being expected to raise the child he’d had with his old flame. 1 Shards of glass and champagne flew everywhere, turning the elegant ballroom into a disaster zone. The fifth-anniversary party I had spent nearly a month planning was ruined. My husband, Josh, seemed to have completely forgotten what day it was. His eyes were fixed on the baby in his arms. He dismissed my outburst as a tantrum over his tardiness. After calming the guests, he walked over to me, the baby still cradled in one arm. He reached out and wrapped his other arm around my waist. “Stop making a scene, Evelyn. You’re scaring everyone.” I twisted out of his grasp. “If you’re so set on this, then let’s adopt a different child. I don’t want this one.” It was the last compromise I could offer, and one final test for him. “Why not? Evelyn, I know you love children. Isn’t it a good thing for us to finally have one of our own?” “Evelyn, just look at him. He’s so plump and fair, absolutely adorable.” Josh held the baby out for me to see, his face earnest. He took my hand, trying to guide it toward the infant, trying to force me to accept this new reality. The baby in the swaddling clothes was pristine, looking no more than two or three months old. His features favored his mother—Sierra Thorne, the one that got away. He waved his tiny arms and smiled at me, a cherubic expression that could seemingly heal all the world’s ills. “See? He’s smiling at you,” Josh beamed. “I told you he was meant to be with us.” He had failed the test. Utterly. A thousand tiny needles pricked at my heart. I snatched my hand back, my patience wearing thin, and took several steps away from him, putting a chasm of space between us. He thought that by ambushing me here, in public, on our anniversary, he could force my hand. He thought I wouldn’t dare to say no. But I found I could no longer maintain the polished facade of Mrs. Mason. 2 My gaze shifted to a figure standing behind him, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Josh, are you so insistent on adopting this child because of her?” In an instant, Sierra Thorne became the focal point of every eye in the room. She stood frozen, her eyes welling with tears as she tried to defend herself. “Mrs. Mason, Josh and I are ancient history. How could this baby possibly be ours?” “I never said the child was yours and Josh’s, Ms. Thorne. Why are you in such a hurry to deny it? Or is it that the child is yours and Josh’s?” “I… I…” Sierra bit her lip, rendered speechless. The whispers in the crowd grew louder, the gazes sharper, all of them aimed at Sierra. “So that’s why. I was wondering why Mrs. Mason, who’s always so agreeable, was putting her foot down this time. The baby isn’t adopted, it’s the mistress’s.” “Mistress or not, I heard she’s Mr. Mason’s first love. She’s his personal secretary now, you know.” “If it wasn’t for old Mrs. Mason disapproving back in the day, she’d be the one who’s Mrs. Mason now.” “Who cares if she’s his first love? She interfered in a marriage, got pregnant out of wedlock—that makes her the other woman, period. Let’s not forget, the real Mrs. Mason is Evelyn. She and Mr. Mason are legally married. Who the hell is Sierra Thorne?” Sierra’s face was ashen, a single tear clinging to her eyelash. She looked desperately toward Josh. “That’s enough, Evelyn!” Josh stepped forward, pulling Sierra behind him protectively. He shot a single look across the room, and the chatter died instantly. After all, everyone in Crestwood was wary of the Mason family’s influence. “Sierra is just my secretary. Don’t make things difficult for her.” A profound weariness washed over me. I finally understood that I couldn’t follow my grandmother-in-law’s advice to live a good life with him anymore. It was impossible. I looked down at the wedding ring I had worn for five years. The sharp, stinging pain bloomed in my chest again. I twisted it off my finger. “I’m done being Mrs. Mason.” I threw it. The diamond ring sailed through the air in a perfect arc before landing in the swimming pool with a soft splash. Just like our marriage—it began with a grand spectacle and ended in silence. Leaving Josh and the guests staring in shock, I gathered the hem of my gown and walked away. In their eyes, I had always been the graceful, composed Mrs. Mason who always considered the bigger picture. But tonight, I had lost all dignity. And I didn’t care. 3 The party broke up in disarray. That night, Josh didn’t come home. The housekeeper told me he had taken Sierra and her son home. I didn’t call him. He didn’t send a single message. When Josh returned the next morning, I was in the middle of breakfast. He handed his coat to a maid and pulled out a chair to sit down. Halfway through my toast, my appetite vanished. I stood up to leave, not sparing him a glance or a word of greeting. He suddenly called out behind me. “Don’t you have anything to ask me?” What did he want me to ask? About the baby? About where he was last night? The old me would have screamed at him, thrown a hysterical fit. And what would I have gotten for it? Josh’s brow was knitted in a frown of impatience. “Stop being so unreasonable. Sierra and I just have a professional relationship.” A professional relationship that produced a child. A professional relationship that, just last night, had resulted in a picture on Sierra’s social media of them kissing, wrapped in a passionate embrace. Now that I was too tired to care, too exhausted to ask, he was demanding to know why. I turned slowly. He was watching me, an expectant look in his eyes. I averted my gaze, walked to the cabinet, and retrieved a manila envelope. I placed it on the table in front of him. “Josh, let’s get a divorce.” His face froze. “Over something this small, you want a divorce?” He always did this—minimized everything, making it seem like I was the one at fault, the one being irrational. My nails dug into my palms. I looked at his nonchalant expression. “The baby wasn’t adopted at all, was he? He’s your son with Sierra Thorne.” The day the baby was born, I had just finished my last surgery when a colleague in the OB/GYN department told me Josh was there to pick me up. I didn’t even change out of my scrubs, rushing down, afraid of making him wait. I found him outside the delivery room. A nurse was holding a newborn, congratulating him. “Congratulations, Mr. Mason. It’s a healthy baby boy.” Josh held the child, his eyes shining with a joy he couldn’t hide. Sierra lay weakly on a gurney, her eyes glistening with tears, the very picture of pitiable beauty. “Josh…” she whispered. He stroked her hair and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “You did so well, Sierra. Thank you for giving me a son.” I stood there, thunderstruck, convinced I had misheard. One of the nurses couldn’t help but ask, “Mr. Mason, didn’t you say she was your sister?” His expression soured instantly. “If a word of this gets out,” he threatened, his voice dropping to a low growl, “you know the consequences.” I tried to tell myself it was a mistake. Josh wasn’t that kind of person. But I was wrong. I had been wrong from the very first time he’d suggested we adopt a child. 4 A flicker of surprise crossed Josh’s face, but it was quickly masked. He calmly pulled out a cigarette and lit it, showing none of the panic of a man who’d just been exposed. “Evelyn, you know that in our circle, it’s not exactly unheard of for a man to have a woman on the side.” It wasn’t unheard of. Especially when that woman was the love of his life. But unlike the other wives in our circle, I couldn’t tolerate it. I couldn’t just look the other way. Josh took a long drag from his cigarette. “And you should also know that if you hadn’t driven Sierra away back then, the title of Mrs. Mason would have never been yours.” From the very beginning, no matter how many times I tried to explain, he believed I was the one who forced Sierra to leave the country. A month before our wedding, I had asked him directly. He was the one who said he wanted to marry me. Now, somehow, it was all my fault. The thick smoke stung my eyes, and I coughed, tears welling up. Josh glanced at me, then stubbed out the cigarette with his long, elegant fingers. He knelt in front of me. He frowned, his thumb gently wiping a tear from my cheek. “Are you that upset? You seemed pretty tough at the party last night.” “Don’t worry. I promised my grandmother that you would always be Mrs. Mason.” “If you want, we can bring the child here for you to raise. Grandma has always wanted a great-grandson, and Mason Industries needs an heir.” “If you’re not willing, Sierra can raise him herself. I’ll set them up somewhere, make sure she never bothers you.” Listening to him, I couldn’t help but laugh. I didn’t even want the title of a wealthy wife anymore. Why on earth would I want to raise another woman’s child? 5 At the hospital, I went to the Chief of Staff’s office. He held my resignation letter, asking me one last time. “Are you sure about this, Evelyn? The conditions there are harsh, and it’s dangerous. It’s nothing like working here.” I didn’t hesitate. “I’m sure. I’ve already passed the interview. Please, just sign it.” For the past five years, I had strived to be the perfect Mrs. Mason, managing his social life on top of my demanding career. From now on, I didn’t have to play a role for anyone. I just had to be myself. I was immensely grateful that I had never listened to Josh and quit my job as a doctor. Otherwise, I’d be completely lost right now. After leaving the office, I finished my handover, packed the few personal items from my locker, and said goodbye to my colleagues. On the way home, I received a call from Grandma Mason. She wanted Josh and me to come to the family estate for dinner. The fifteenth of every month was their standing family dinner. I watched the scenery blur past the car window, hesitating before finally dialing Josh’s number. “What is it?” His voice was cold, and I could picture the icy expression on his face. I clutched the phone. “Grandma wants us to come to the estate for dinner.” “Got it.” He’d been like this ever since Sierra returned—distant and cold. The abrupt way he hung up told me exactly who he was with. 6 The sun was setting by the time I reached the estate. Because Josh and I were so busy, and Grandma didn’t want to live with us and be a bother, we had agreed to this monthly dinner, a promise to always come back no matter what. Grandma Mason’s face lit up when she saw me, but her smile faltered when she saw I was alone. “Evie, dear, why are you by yourself? Where’s Josh?” “He had a last-minute meeting,” I said with a practiced smile. “He’ll be here later.” I handed my things to a servant and helped Grandma inside. Josh arrived just as dinner was being served. He fell into his old habit of peeling shrimp for me and placing choice pieces of food in my bowl. I didn’t refuse, silently eating what was given to me. We barely spoke a word throughout the meal. After dinner, Grandma Mason pulled me into her room. She asked if Josh and I were fighting. I didn’t know how to answer. Telling her the truth felt cruel. As if reading my mind, her cloudy eyes focused on me. “Did that rascal do something to hurt you? You tell Grandma, and I’ll teach him a lesson.” I shook my head. “Grandma, if I told you I wanted to divorce Josh, would you be angry with me?” “Evie, don’t you worry. I will make sure you get justice.” Her voice trembled with sudden emotion, and she started to rise, ready to confront her grandson. 7 I quickly calmed her down. “It’s no use, Grandma. He doesn’t have me in his heart. You can’t force feelings. I spent five years trying and I still couldn’t reach him.” “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life tied to him. It will only bring us both more pain.” “Divorcing him is a decision I’ve thought about for a long time. It’s not an impulse.” Grandma’s aged hands covered mine. She let out a long sigh. “I had hoped you and Josh could find happiness together, support each other. I never imagined it would come to this.” “Alright then. A girl as wonderful as my Evie deserves someone better.” “Grandma, I actually came to say goodbye.” Her voice grew agitated. “What are you talking about? Even if you divorce Josh, as long as I’m here, this will always be your home.” A warmth spread through my chest. “I’ve been accepted by Doctors Without Borders. I leave in two days.” Grandma Mason froze, her eyes slowly turning red. “Evie, listen to Grandma. Just stay here in Crestwood. Don’t go anywhere.” I knew what she was worried about. My parents had been with Doctors Without Borders. They had died on their last mission, providing aid in a war zone. I remembered that day vividly, throwing a tantrum on the floor, begging them not to go. My mother had stroked my hair gently. “Be good, Evie. Mom and Dad are doctors. We have to go where we’re needed. We promise, this is the last time. When the mission is over, we’ll come back and never leave again.” “You listen to your grandma, and don’t cause any trouble.” She was a liar. She promised she would come back, but she broke her promise. The Sullivans and the Masons had been friends for generations. After my own grandmother passed away, I was taken in by the Mason family. Grandma Mason treated me like her own granddaughter. 8 Grandma Mason made Josh kneel in the courtyard. I knew she was doing it for me, to give me some sense of justice, but what was the point? It wouldn’t make him love me. She didn’t relent, not even by noon the next day. Under the blazing sun, beads of sweat dripped from Josh’s forehead, but he remained silent, his back ramrod straight. Somehow, Sierra got word and showed up. “Why are you here? Go back,” Josh rasped, his voice raw. “And watch you suffer? No.” With tears in her eyes, Sierra squared her jaw, clutched her baby, and knelt before the family. “Grandma, it’s all my fault. Please, don’t punish Josh.” Grandma Mason looked down at her, her voice dripping with ice. “Don’t you dare call me that, Ms. Thorne. I haven’t earned that title. I’m disciplining my own grandson. What does that have to do with you?” Sierra’s face paled, but the sound of her baby’s cries seemed to give her courage. “I know you look down on me, Grandma. But this child is Josh’s. He is a Mason. Are you going to deny your own blood?”

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1 While my husband was on his deathbed, his kidneys failing, I fell in love with his half-brother. When he recovered, he found a younger woman as his revenge. He paraded her at family dinners, forcing me to kneel and wipe her shoes. He had roses flown in from across the world for her, promising a love that would never die. He let her break into my safe and shatter the jade bracelet my mother had left me. I knew I was at fault, so I endured it all. But then, for her sake, he stole the appointment I had moved heaven and earth to get for his brother with a world-renowned specialist. His brother died because of the delayed treatment. That’s when I finally understood. Endurance was useless. Adrian and I were broken beyond repair. We were destined to spend the rest of our lives torturing each other. We were each other’s karma. … I watched, numb, as Liam’s body slid into the incinerator’s searing heat, reduced to a box of ash. I buried him myself. Staring at the brilliant, carefree smile etched on his headstone, the grief I had suppressed for so long finally broke free, a tidal wave threatening to drown me. I knelt before his grave, tears falling like broken pearls, each one a tiny hammer blow against the cold stone. I traced the outline of his face on the photograph, staying there from dawn until the sky bled into a bruised purple. “Liam, I have to go now,” I whispered, my voice raw. “Someone has to pay for what they did to you. Don’t go too far. Wait for me. Once I’ve had my revenge, I’m coming to find you.” I left the cemetery, my heart a cold, hard stone in my chest. Revenge. I would have it, no matter the cost. The sorrow had curdled into a white-hot rage. Liam didn’t have to die. I had practically crawled on my knees to get him that appointment with Dr. Kingston, the one man who could have saved him. But Adrian had used his right as my husband to cancel it, giving the spot to his precious little girlfriend for a common cold. By the time I found out, Dr. Kingston had already left the country in a fury. All I could do was hold Liam in my arms as he took his last breath. I slammed the accelerator to the floor, the car screaming down the highway like a soul fleeing hell. I dialed Adrian’s number. He answered instantly. “Clara, are you finally ready to crawl back and beg? If you get on your knees, I might just find it in me to forgive you. I might even help that bastard brother of mine.” His mocking voice crackled through the speaker, followed by a chorus of laughter from his friends. “Is the ice queen finally melting? See, what’s the point of being so stubborn? Just say you’re sorry. We’ll all be witnesses!” “Yeah, Clara! And bring a case of the good stuff. Show us you’re serious!” “And don’t forget a gift for Janice! You need to apologize properly if you want Adrian to lift a finger for that short-lived bastard Liam.” The last embers of my sanity burned away at the mention of his name. “Fine,” I rasped. “Give me the address.” I hung up, the roar of the engine a counterpoint to the frantic drumming of my heart. I screeched to a halt in front of the private club, snatched a security baton from the guard post, and stormed inside. I kicked the door of the private room off its hinges. Adrian looked up, his eyes filled with a lazy, arrogant amusement. “Well, well, Clara. Where’s the gift for Janice?” Marcus, the one who’d called Liam a bastard on the phone, sauntered toward me with a smirk. I swung the baton. A sickening crack, and blood erupted from the gash on his head. “Clara, you’re insane!” he shrieked. 2 Before anyone else could react, I grabbed Janice, who was standing there with a smug little smile on her face. I brought the baton down hard on her stomach. She let out a piercing scream, and Adrian finally snapped out of his stupor. He shoved me away, gathering Janice protectively in his arms. “Clara! Have you lost your mind? You’re like a rabid dog, biting anyone in your path!” he snarled, his face a mask of disgust. I walked toward him, my knuckles white on the baton. “Yes, Adrian, I’m insane. I went insane the moment you and this little tramp stole Liam’s only chance to live!” He scoffed. “Is it that spineless parasite again? Did he run crying to you? He really has mastered the art of—” I slapped him, the sound echoing in the silent room. “You don’t get to say his name. You murderer.” The slap ignited his fury. He stood up, jabbing a finger into my shoulder. “He was a nobody, a mistake. Why can’t I say his name? And don’t you forget, Clara, you are still my wife!” His eyes were filled with a cold violence. He grabbed me and forced me to the floor. “Now, my dear wife, apologize to my beloved Janice. If you’re good, I might be in a generous enough mood to help that half-breed live a few more days.” I struggled, but he was too strong, pinning me in front of her like an animal. I smiled up at him, a chilling, empty thing. “Fine. If you can save Liam, I’ll get on my knees and beg.” His face darkened for a second before the sneer returned. “Alright. Let’s see just how far you’ll go for him.” The moment he let go, I lunged like a starving wolf, tackling Janice to the ground. I sank my teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, wanting to tear out her throat. Adrian roared with rage and threw me across the room. My head hit the floor, but I felt nothing but a wild, exhilarating release. I started to laugh, a low, guttural sound, as Janice shrieked in terror, blood streaming down her neck. Adrian stormed over and hauled me to my feet by my collar. His eyes were chips of ice. “Clara, you push your luck! Get naked. Kneel on the floor and beg Janice for her forgiveness!” “Or what?” I wiped the blood from my lips, my gaze unflinching. I grabbed his tie, pulling his face close to mine. “Or you’ll kill me?” I whispered in his ear. Rage flashed in his eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace Liam had given me, dangling it in front of my face. My breath caught. I reached for it, but he clamped a hand around my throat, using the necklace to toy with me like a dog with a treat. “You want this? Then do as I say,” he purred, his voice a venomous whisper. “Are you so pathetic now that you have to resort to being a thief, Adrian?” I sneered. I had torn the house apart looking for it, blaming myself for losing the one precious thing Liam had left me. “We’re married, my love. It’s not stealing,” he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Just take off your clothes and apologize to Janice, and I’ll give it back to you. Simple.” I closed my eyes. “Fine,” I whispered. “I’ll do it.” He sat back on the sofa, watching me with an unreadable expression. As I walked towards Janice, I stripped off my shirt, the cold air hitting my bare skin. I hesitated for a second, then unzipped my pants and let them fall. A chorus of jeers and lewd comments erupted from his friends. “Damn, Clara’s lost it, but look at that body…” “If she wasn’t Mrs. Thorne, I’d…” The words washed over me, meaningless. My hand went to the last piece of clothing, but just as I was about to remove it, Adrian shot to his feet. “That’s enough!” He strode over, grabbing my face, his voice laced with venom. “You make me sick.” “Apologize to her like that. Your body is disgusting to me.” He threw me to the ground. I crawled to my knees in front of Janice. “I’m sorry,” I choked out, my nails digging into my palms. The humiliation of apologizing to my love’s murderer was a physical agony. “Adrian, I’m scared,” Janice whimpered, trembling like a delicate flower. “Louder! And bow your head!” Adrian roared at me. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and slammed my forehead against the floor. “Janice, I’m sorry!” When I looked up, Adrian was staring at me with dark, glittering eyes. “You really do love that bastard, don’t you, Clara?” “You know what? I don’t think I want to give this back to you after all.” And with that, he threw the necklace out the eleventh-story window. “NO!” I screamed, a raw, primal sound, and lunged for the window like a moth drawn to a fatal flame. “Clara!” 3 The chain grazed my fingertips, but just as a flicker of hope ignited, Adrian yanked me back. I watched it fall, disappearing into the night, just like Liam had slipped through my fingers. “No! My necklace! Give it back!” I thrashed in his arms like a madwoman, trying to throw myself out the window after it. He dragged me back again and slapped me hard across the face. “What is this pathetic act, Clara? Playing the heartbroken lover for me?” he seethed, his face inches from mine. The sting on my cheek was nothing compared to the crushing weight of despair. I slid down the wall, a broken, sobbing mess. A hand touched my shoulder, and Adrian’s voice, suddenly stiff, broke through my grief. “Clara… stop crying. It was just a necklace. I’ll buy you another one.” I looked up, my eyes red and swollen, and grabbed the front of his shirt. “You think it’s that easy? We were supposed to leave each other alone, Adrian! Why did you have to interfere? Why did you have to take his life away?” “Why?” I wailed, a caged animal’s mournful cry. “I am your husband, Clara, have you forgotten?” he shot back, his own eyes turning red. “You humbled yourself for that parasite, you came back covered in bruises from begging for him. Where was my honor? What about my pride?” “My husband? You have some nerve! What about her? You bought out entire auctions for her! You paraded your affair in front of the whole world and used my dignity as your doormat! What about my pride then?” We were two warring nations, locked in a battle with no end. “Janice is different,” he said through gritted teeth. “So was Liam!” “Don’t you dare compare that trash to her!” “He wasn’t trash! He was your brother! Your own flesh and blood!” “Enough, Clara!” he yelled, ripping my hands off him. “It was a stupid necklace. If you don’t want my money, then go ask that bastard to get you a new one.” He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, his hands trembling as he tried to light it. I stumbled to my feet, tears streaming down my face. “He’s dead.” “He can’t give me anything ever again.” Adrian froze. The lighter clicked four times before a flame finally caught. “Dead?” he said, his voice strangely hollow through the smoke. “Good. Better that way. Cleaner.” A wave of pure, unadulterated hatred washed over me. I didn’t want his casual dismissal. I wanted him to hurt, to feel the same gut-wrenching pain I felt. I walked through the smoke and stood before him, a terrifying smile on my lips. I gently placed a hand on his abdomen. “Did you know? The kidney that’s keeping you alive right now… it was Liam’s.” “He was afraid you’d feel guilty, so he never told you. The man you despised most in the world gave you his life.” I stared into his eyes, watching his face go blank, then contort through disbelief, landing finally on a mask of pure agony. My smile widened. His pain was my only pleasure. “Why don’t you go thank him in person?” I whispered, my voice the devil’s own temptation. He just stared at me, his eyes a dead, bottomless pool. “Adrian, don’t listen to her!” Janice rushed to his side, clinging to his arm. “It wasn’t Liam! If it was, why didn’t he say anything that day, when you… when you had him beaten?” Her words were a steel blade, twisting in my already bleeding heart. “What did you say?” I rasped. Adrian moved Janice behind him, shielding her from my view. I went feral, pounding on his chest with my fists. “He saved you! How could you beat him? He was dying, and you wouldn’t even leave him in peace!” “Why aren’t you dead? You should be in hell! You both should be in hell!” I screamed and clawed and bit at him, and he just stood there, taking it all, his face a stony mask. Finally, exhausted, I slumped to the floor, my heart a hollow, aching void. “Adrian, I’m scared,” Janice whimpered. “I’ll take you home,” he said, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before he turned and left with her. The room, once filled with noise and people, was now silent, empty except for me. I staggered to my feet. What was the point of living? But how could I die, when my enemies were still breathing? I ran after them, getting to my car first. The moment Adrian’s engine started, I floored it, ramming my car straight into his. I just wanted them to die.

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