Category: English

On my fifth wedding day, the ceremony was about to begin, and my groom and maid of honor were still nowhere to be found. In our group chat, a message from my best friend Olivia popped up first. “Sorry, Emma. Something came up at the firm last minute. I can’t be your maid of honor today. I’ll make it up to you next time, I promise!” Right after, Daniel Shaw sent a reply too. “Sorry, got called away on business. Let’s reschedule this wedding too. If it really can’t wait, you can just walk through the ceremony yourself.” I clenched the fabric of my wedding dress, my fingertips going white. Something lodged in my chest, and I could barely breathe. I scrolled up through the chat history. The last conversation was the two of them in a heated debate over a case. I’d asked about the wedding arrangements several times, and not a single person had answered. Between the three of us, I always seemed to be the one who could be ignored. A notification popped up on my phone. Olivia had just updated her private blog. “Sunrise at dawn, and you. Everything is just right. We really are the most in-sync romantic lunatics.” In the photo, she and Daniel stood on a mountaintop in matching hiking gear. Sunlight fell behind them like a wedding meant only for the two of them. I turned off my phone. My heart ached. Seven years of love. Ten years of friendship. Four previously postponed weddings. I’d made excuses for their busy schedules countless times. Missing my birthday was fine. Missing the funeral was fine. Even skipping four weddings was fine. It wasn’t until I found that account that I realized every single time they’d stood me up, they’d been traveling together, going to concerts together, watching the snow together, going to the beach together. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I left a comment under that post. “Since you two are such a perfect match, why don’t I just hand over the wedding and the groom?” The moment my comment went through, the post was deleted. The entire account was wiped clean. Messages from Olivia came flooding in, one after another. “Emma, I can explain. It’s really not what you think…” “Can you please not be angry?” “We’re just friends.” I swiped the messages away. All that was left inside me was numbness. Explanations didn’t matter anymore. Because I was leaving soon. I opened another contact and sent Ethan Cole a text. “In seven days, I’ll arrive in Northbridge with the research results you’ve been wanting. I’m joining RQ.” After I sent it, I removed my veil and stood in the empty bridal suite, staring at myself in the mirror. Flawless makeup. An expensive wedding dress. But I looked like a joke. Once, Olivia had laughed beside me as I tried on wedding dresses, helped me decorate the house, linked her arm through mine and said, “Daniel really lucked out, getting to marry someone as beautiful as you. If I were a man, there’s no way I’d let him have you.” In the end, the person who kept me from completing my wedding five times was still her. The phone rang. It was someone from the wedding planning company. “Ms. Reed, the ceremony time has passed. Would you like to reschedule, same as before?” I dug my nails into my palm, but my voice came out perfectly calm. “No rescheduling. There won’t be a next time.” The person paused, their tone turning careful. “Ms. Reed, are you sure you don’t want to reconsider? You and Mr. Shaw have been together so many years. Whatever the problem is, it can be worked out.” I looked down at the cheap ring on my right ring finger. Daniel had given it to me when he was seventeen. He’d said, “Emma, I don’t have much money right now. But someday when I do, I’ll buy you the most expensive diamond ring.” I’d taken that promise as a vow for life. But two weeks ago, I’d seen the diamond ring that should have been mine on Olivia’s blog. Cartier. Two hundred thousand dollars. Daniel had never given me anything that expensive. What I got was always a knockoff bracelet, discount perfume that wouldn’t sell, and one promise after another of “I’ll make it up to you later.” I’d spent eight years for this. I wrenched the ring off my finger and tossed it into the trash can at my feet. After hanging up, I sank into the sofa, my body slowly caving in. My chest ached terribly, but I couldn’t cry. At three in the morning, the door was shoved open. Daniel walked in, windswept and dusty, still wearing the same matching hiking gear as Olivia. I’d once stupidly asked Olivia, “When you bought the hiking gear, why wasn’t there one for me?” She’d laughed and put her arm around my shoulders. “You’re not healthy enough for hiking. Besides, the store had a buy-two deal, that’s the only reason I got them. Daniel has the stamina, so he can hike with me.” I checked later. That hiking gear had never been on sale. Two thousand a piece. A well-known couples’ brand. Daniel saw me sitting there and frowned, his voice cold as ice. “Why did you leave that comment on her post? Olivia was so upset she made me cancel work and come back to find you. Emma, can you stop making us worry all the time?” I stood up, my heart clenching like a fist was squeezing it. “You were on a business trip… on a mountaintop?” I looked at him. “Or do you think I’m actually stupid enough to see ninety-nine flirtatious posts and keep pretending I don’t notice?” Daniel looked away, his voice dropping. He reached out and grabbed my wrist. “Emma, I went hiking with her because I was worried she wouldn’t be safe alone. The business trip was real. Stop being so unreasonable.” I pulled my hand free, staring into the unfamiliar coldness in his eyes, my throat tight. “Daniel, that year I was chased by a drunk man for three blocks and nearly died in an alley, you were working overtime. You told me to stop making a scene.” I laughed once, though my eyes burned red. “And now you’re telling me you were worried she wouldn’t be safe hiking alone.” He said nothing. I took a deep breath. “Daniel Shaw, let’s break up.” The words hung in the air. Something like disbelief flickered in his eyes, and then he let out a quiet scoff.

“Emma, you’re so naive.” Daniel looked at me, his voice dripping with contempt. “Your mother is dead. Your father is a drunk. Who else is going to marry you besides me? Or are you planning to grow old alone?” My eyes stung instantly. Daniel saw my reaction, and his expression stiffened. He grabbed my hand again, his voice lower. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It slipped out.” But the things said without thinking are the most honest. When I was seventeen, my father came home drunk and nearly beat me to death. Daniel was the one who rushed in and took a knife for me. That day, bleeding, he stood in front of me and said, “As long as I’m here, no one will ever hurt you again.” The day my mother died, I cried at her grave until I couldn’t stand. He held me and said, “I’m sorry I’m late. Emma, from now on, I’ll love you the way your mother did.” It turns out even vows can rot. Daniel’s voice was cold. “You want to break up just because I went hiking with your best friend? You won’t even go through with the wedding?” I opened my mouth, numb. “Yes. Daniel, because I’m leaving—” Before I could finish, a slender figure burst through the door, cutting me off. Daniel let go of my hand almost on instinct. Olivia looked at him first, then turned to me. Her eyes were brimming with tears, as if she’d suffered some terrible injustice. “Emma, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was afraid you’d do something rash, so I rushed back immediately.” She walked up to me, her voice choked. “Haven’t the three of us always been the best of friends? Those posts were just jokes between friends. Don’t overthink it.” When I didn’t speak, she added awkwardly, “How could I possibly steal your man?” Right. Olivia was my best friend. But at some point I couldn’t pinpoint, I’d already been shut out of their world. When we walked together, I was always squeezed to the back. When we ordered food, no one heard what I wanted. When we planned a trip and it rained, they changed the flight time and no one told me. And they always brushed it off: “Emma, why are you so silly? We can’t pay attention to you every second. Just speak up if something’s wrong.” But I did speak up. Did anyone listen? I looked at Olivia, my voice very quiet. “I believe you. Let’s end it here. I’m done with both of you.” Olivia’s tear dropped to the floor with a splat. In the past, I would have felt sorry for her. But now, I couldn’t. When we were kids, Olivia and I lived on the same street in a poor neighborhood. She often couldn’t even get a warm meal, so I’d sneak bread from home for her. That one time, I was beaten black and blue by my father. Olivia looked at the bruises on my body and cried, “Emma, thank you for being my friend. I’ll spend my whole life repaying you.” I put my hand on her shoulder and smiled. “From now on, I’ve got your back.” Back then, I truly believed we’d be friends for life. Olivia’s voice trembled, each word stabbing into my heart. “Today’s wedding didn’t happen because of me. So let’s do it tomorrow, okay? Please don’t be angry.” I flung her hand off and slapped her across the face. “Tomorrow is my mother’s death anniversary. Did you not know that?” Olivia stared at me in shock, tears rolling down. “I just forgot…” Before she could finish, Daniel shoved me aside and pulled her behind him. My back slammed hard against the shelf behind me. Our high school graduation photo fell from the shelf. The glass shattered everywhere, and one shard sliced across my neck. Blood surged out immediately. Daniel glanced up at me, his voice cold and hard. “We’re busy with work. Forgetting things is normal. Not everyone has as much free time as you. Did you really have to hit her over something like this?” He stared at me, his eyes full of impatience. “Emma Reed, you’re acting like a lunatic right now. You’ve gone completely insane wanting to get married.” He was standing right in front of me. But it felt like there was an ocean between us. I opened my mouth. “I—” Olivia suddenly threw out a sentence, shoved Daniel aside, and bolted out the door. “This is all my fault! I’ll just leave. Don’t fight because of me!” Daniel immediately started after her, then stopped and turned back to look at me. “Take care of the cut on your neck first. I’m going to find her. It’s not safe out there at this hour. Cool off.” There was even tenderness in his voice. My heart plummeted. “Daniel, just go.” I looked at him calmly. “I’m selling this house. You don’t need to come back here anymore.”

Daniel’s face darkened instantly. “Emma Reed, what the hell is wrong with you? I already told you, it’s not what you think. What more do you want?” I wasn’t losing my mind. I simply didn’t love him anymore. “I don’t want anything.” I bent down and picked up the glass shards from the floor. “We broke up. Of course the house should be sold. Aren’t you always worried about her safety? Now you can move in with her and protect her twenty-four-seven. Aren’t you happy?” The photo had cracked into pieces. In the broken frame, I stood at the very edge. Daniel and Olivia were on the same side, untouched. My calm looked like provocation to him. He was livid. “Keep this up. I want to see if you’ll come crawling back, begging me to marry you.” He sneered. “Absolutely unbelievable.” I tossed the photo and the shards together into the trash, my voice soft as a sigh. “I won’t,” I said. “I’m leaving.” Daniel stared at me, his eyes even colder. “Fine. If you’re going to run away this time, go far. I’m not in the mood to look for you.” The door slammed shut. I watched his resolute back disappear and felt nothing stir inside me. In the past, every time we fought, I’d deliberately run away from home. I never actually went far—just hid in the neighborhood park—because I knew Daniel would always come find me. Then at some point, he stopped coming. He said, “I’m already exhausted from work. Can you give it a rest? Why can’t you be more like Olivia? She can talk cases with me, go on business trips with me. What do you do besides pick fights?” After dawn, I packed my things into a suitcase and carried a box of old belongings to the backyard. I lit a fire. The flames reflected in my eyes. Eight years, ten years—all of it was over. Daniel came back just in time to see this. He saw what was in the fire and panicked, rushing forward to pull things out with his bare hands, but it was already too late. The flames consumed everything. His eyes were red as he grabbed my arm. “Why did you burn these? Weren’t these your most precious things?” “They used to be.” I looked at him. “Not anymore.” In the fire were the nine hundred and ninety-nine paper cranes Olivia had folded for my birthday, and the bracelet she’d bought me with her very first paycheck. There were also the ninety-nine love letters Daniel had written me, and the ceramic figurines we’d made together. When love is still alive, they’re memories. When love is dead, they’re no different from garbage on the street. Daniel looked at me as if trying to read something from my face, but he got nothing. He let go of me, awkward. “Emma, you’re doing all this because you want an explanation, right?” He took a deep breath, his tone softening. “The things I did with her—they’re just things friends do. You think we wronged you, but the truth is, we never crossed any lines.” A tear slid down my face. I wasn’t trying to cry. I just thought it was so absurd. Does betrayal only count if there’s physical contact? Emotional betrayal is still betrayal. When we went to see the snow together, he photographed the scenery—then turned around and sent it to Olivia. When we went to Disneyland together, he bought a plush toy, not thinking about which one I’d like, but picking up another one and saying, “Olivia would probably love this.” His partner was right beside him. But he’d already stopped loving her. “Enough.” I wiped my tears. “You don’t need to explain. I’m leaving anyway. None of it matters anymore.” My phone screen was still lit, open to the flight booking page for Northbridge. Daniel’s eyes caught it in his peripheral vision. His tone was flat. “Business trip to Northbridge?” He paused. “When you get back, we’ll figure out the next wedding date.” He didn’t press further. I didn’t explain. I just looked at him and asked softly, “What if I don’t come back?” Daniel’s eyes were filled with exhaustion and exasperation. “Stop this. I’m tired. I’m going inside to sleep.” A moment later, I pulled my suitcase out, shut the door behind me, and sent a message to the real estate agent. “Sell the house at the price you quoted. Wire the money to my account.” The reply came quickly. “Ms. Reed, this is your marital home. Are you sure you want to sell?” I glanced back at the house. “I won’t be in Harbor City anymore. And he won’t be coming back to this house either. Sell it.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260804IHWEF7qKoS 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni841641”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

My adoptive mother drugged me with a potent wolf-aphrodisiac and dragged me into the bedroom of James Anderson, the ruthless Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack. But instead of crying, I actually laughed out loud. “This room is still as ugly as ever. Zero taste.” Sophia Vance, my adoptive sister, thought I’d lost my mind. She pinched my thigh hard, her claws digging into my skin. “Shut up, Emmy! James Anderson is a tyrant. You better submit to him tonight if you want to live.” Our adoptive mother, Evelyn Vance, stood by, coldly binding my hands with silver handcuffs. Her voice was dripping with impatience. “We took you in when you were nothing. Now it’s time to pay your debt.” “Sophia is too good for a beast like him. You will take her place. After all, you owe her everything.” “Just be a good little toy tonight, and the Shadowfang Pack will get the rights to the northern hunting grounds.” Evelyn stripped off my jacket and threw me onto the cold floor of the pitch-black bedroom like a piece of trash. No one noticed my lips curving up in the dark. And no one knew that the terrifying, bloodthirsty Alpha James they feared so much had knelt before me three years ago, swearing his absolute loyalty.

I woke up with a pounding headache. My hands were cuffed behind my back with silver. The metal bit into my flesh, making my wrists throb with pain. Through the window, I could see the towering outline of the Packhouse. We were deep inside Silvermoon Pack territory. From outside the door, Sophia’s hushed but ecstatic voice drifted in. “Mom! James’s Beta just said the Alpha is heading down to the main hall!” “Once James sees her in his bed, his bloodlust will take over. He’ll tear her apart, and then the Shadowfang Pack will have every right to demand heavy compensation from him!” “There’s no way I was going to marry that monster anyway. Letting her take the fall will save our pack!” Evelyn’s voice followed, filled with sickening amusement. “Don’t worry, Sophia. The drug I slipped into her drink would keep a fully grown Lycan down for three days.” “Whether James kills her or sleeps with her, we win. We’ll squeeze every resource out of him.” “That orphan has fed off our charity for five years. Paving the way for your future is the least she can do.” I leaned against the freezing wall, a cold smirk playing on my lips. Five years ago, I was a rogue starving on the streets. Evelyn had brought me back to the Shadowfang Pack. I thought I finally had a family. But I was wrong. I was just a convenient tool. On the surface, Evelyn played the doting mother. In reality, she was poisoning my food for years. She suppressed my inner wolf, making me believe I was born weak and sickly. I only found out about the poisoning recently. Even then, I had tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. I couldn’t believe the woman I called “Mom” for five years could be so cruel. Until today. When she drugged me and threw me into a stranger’s bed like meat to a beast. Her words still echoed in my mind: *“Sacrificing you to secure your sister’s future is your duty.”* I finally got it. To them, I was never family. I was just a pawn. Now that the Shadowfang Pack was losing its grip on power, they desperately needed a stronger ally. So my adoptive father, the Alpha of Shadowfang, decided to sell a daughter to James. Rumor had it that James was a psychopath who showed no mercy to anyone who crossed him. Sophia had threw a massive fit, refusing to marry him, so Evelyn turned her eyes to me. Their plan was simple: present me to James. When he snapped and killed me, they would use my death to blackmail the Silvermoon Pack for resources. If I survived and became his plaything, they would use me to feed their greed. So, Evelyn drugged me without a second thought. But they forgot one thing. I am a Lycan. My body metabolizes toxins at a terrifying speed. My fingers were already moving, reaching for the lockpick hidden in the heel of my boot. Three seconds. *Click.* The handcuffs fell open. I rubbed my chafed wrists and stood up. Looking around the dark bedroom, a wave of familiarity hit me. Three years ago, I lived in this exact room for two months. Back then, James was already the Alpha of Silvermoon. But he had been ambushed, poisoned, and left for dead by a traitor in his own pack. I dragged his bloody body back here. I patched him up, neutralized the poison, and slaughtered the traitors for him. When he woke up, he swore a blood oath to me. He owed me his life. But then he found out I was his fated mate. His toxic possessiveness flared up, and he tried to lock me away to keep me “safe.” So, I ran. I disappeared the moment he went on a hunt. The poison Evelyn had been giving me weakened my wolf, making the mate bond fade, which kept James from tracking me down. For three years, he had been searching for me like a madman, turning the werewolf world upside down. He never would have guessed my adoptive family would hand me right back to him on a silver platter. I walked to the heavy wooden door and raised my leg. *BANG!* With one kick, the door shattered. My strength was fully restored. Two guards standing in the hallway whipped around, their faces turning pale with shock. “How… how did you get out?!” I didn’t bother answering. I walked right past them. “Stop right there! You’re Alpha James’s property!” One guard partially shifted, his claws extending as he lunged at me. I sidestepped his clumsy attack, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it backward. *CRACK!* The sound of snapping bone echoed in the quiet hallway. The guard screamed, his claws instantly retracting as he fell. I slammed my boot into the back of his knee, forcing him to his face. The other guard stumbled back in terror, frantically grabbing his walkie-talkie. “Code Red! The cargo in the Alpha’s room escaped! She’s hostile!” *Cargo.* So that was what they called me. I picked up a metal pipe resting against the wall and walked toward him. “I designed the security layout of this entire Packhouse three years ago,” I said, my voice dead calm. “You guys didn’t even bother to change the patrol routes, and you thought you could stop me?” The guard stared at me, paralyzed by confusion. I swung the pipe, cracking it hard against his temple. He crumpled to the floor, knocked out cold. I stepped over their bodies and headed to the control room. I knew a secret path that even James didn’t know about. I activated the backup communications. Then, I rerouted the signal from Sophia’s tracking device directly to the giant screen in the main ballroom. Let the show begin.

The grand ballroom of the Packhouse was blindingly bright. High society from various packs had gathered for the gala. Sophia stood in a stunning gown, sipping champagne and laughing with the guests. Evelyn was right beside her, practically vibrating with pride as she bragged to the other Alphas. “Oh yes, our Sophia was personally invited by Alpha James himself.” “We will be joining forces with the Silvermoon Pack very soon.” Suddenly, the giant screen displaying the Silvermoon Pack crest flickered. The image cut directly to the security feed of the VIP hallway. There I was, my clothes torn, holding a bloody iron pipe, standing over two unconscious guards. The entire ballroom went dead silent. Conversations stopped instantly. Everyone stared at the screen in horror. Sophia’s smile froze. The glass in Evelyn’s hand slipped, shattering loudly on the marble floor. “What… what is this?!” Sophia gasped, frantically tapping her phone. She was sweating profusely, trying to shut down the feed. Too late. I had locked the system. No one could turn it off but me. My voice boomed through the ballroom speakers, clear and crisp. “Sophia, didn’t you want James to find me?” “Well, I’m out. How are you going to explain this to your little friends?” The crowd erupted into whispers. Every eye in the room locked onto Sophia and Evelyn. “Alpha Vance, what is the meaning of this? Isn’t that your adoptive daughter?” “Did the Vance family seriously drug and kidnap a girl for Alpha James?” “They’re using tracking devices on their own pack members? How pathetic.” Evelyn’s face turned from pale to purple. She pointed at the screen, screeching like a banshee. “Emmy! You worthless bitch! What are you doing?!” “Get your ass back to that room! If you anger Alpha James, our entire pack will pay!” I let out a soft laugh. “Pay?” “Mrs. Vance, you’ve got it wrong.” “Tonight, the only ones paying are you.” I gripped the metal pipe and headed straight for the grand staircase leading to the ballroom. Five heavily armed guards rushed up the stairs to block me. At the front was Brian, James’s scar-faced Beta. “Take her down! Dead or alive!” Brian roared. I dodged the first guard’s claws, striking my palm hard against his throat. In a fluid motion, I snatched his baton and cracked it across the second guard’s jaw. Blood sprayed. My movements were precise, lethal, and fast. Three years ago, I fought off an entire street of rogue mercenaries to protect a poisoned James. These pampered pack guards were nothing but slow-motion targets to me. In less than a minute, all five guards were writhing on the floor, groaning in pain. Brian clutched his broken ribs, looking up at me with sheer terror in his eyes. “Who… who the hell are you?” I pressed the bloody tip of the metal pipe under his chin, forcing him to look at me. “Go tell James.” “His dogs are blocking my way.” Brian trembled, scrambling backward and running for his life. I pushed open the double doors and stepped into the ballroom. I knew a bunch of clowns were waiting for me. And among them, a madman I hadn’t seen in three years.

The heavy doors creaked open. The air in the ballroom instantly turned to ice. Everyone stared at me. I was covered in blood, my clothes ripped, holding a stained iron pipe. I walked in, my boots clicking against the marble. “Emmy! You psychotic bitch!” Evelyn screamed, rushing toward me with her hand raised to slap me. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! You attacked Alpha James’s guards! You’re going to get us all killed!” My eyes darkened. I caught her wrist mid-air. I squeezed. “Ah! Let go!” Evelyn shrieked, her knees buckling as she sank to the floor. “When you slapped me at home, did you care if it hurt?” I looked down at her, my voice devoid of emotion. “When you drugged me, did you worry about my life?” “Now you know how to fear.” Seeing this, Sophia immediately flipped her victim switch. Tears welled up in her eyes as she turned to the crowd. “Emmy, how can you do this to Mom? Just because you’re jealous of my mate bond with James, you can’t just assault people!” “Alpha James is coming. Apologize to Mom right now, and maybe he’ll show you mercy.” Still trying to play the innocent princess. I shoved Evelyn aside and walked straight up to Sophia. She took a step back, trembling, but tried to hold her ground. “What? What are you going to do? This is Alpha James’s territory!” *SLAP!* I backhanded her so hard she spun around and hit the floor. Her cheek swelled instantly, blood trickling from her lip. “You… you dared to hit me?” she gasped, clutching her face. “Why wouldn’t I?” I crouched down, grabbing her by her hair and forcing her face up. “Tell everyone, Sophia.” “Tell them how your mother planned to sacrifice my life tonight just to secure your future.” “Tell them where you get the nerve to stand here so proudly.” Sophia thrashed, eyes darting around wildly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! Let go of me! Help! Alpha James, help me!” Right then, the massive entrance at the end of the hall burst open. An oppressive, suffocating aura flooded the room. Every werewolf in the hall stopped breathing, instinctively parting to create a path. A man in a custom black suit walked in, flanked by a dozen elite guards. His features were sharp, his jawline like carved granite, and his dark eyes burned with a terrifying, lethal coldness. The Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack, James Anderson. Sophia gasped, crawling toward him like he was her savior. “James! James, save me! This crazy woman beat me up, and she attacked your guards!” “She’s a rogue! She doesn’t belong here! Throw her out, please!” Evelyn scrambled over too, bowing low. “Please forgive us, Alpha James! This girl is mentally unstable. The Vance pack will handle her immediately. We won’t let her dirty your sight!” James didn’t even look at them. His eyes cut through the crowd, locking onto my face. He saw my torn clothes. He saw the raw red marks on my wrists. He saw the bloody pipe in my hand. The killing intent radiating off him made the entire room tremble. Brian, nursing his broken ribs, pointed at me. “Alpha! It’s her! She’s the one who took down our men! You have to—” “Shut up,” James whispered. It was a quiet command, but it carried absolute, terrifying authority. Brian shut his mouth instantly, breaking into a cold sweat. Sophia, completely oblivious, kept whining. “James, look at how arrogant she is. She has no respect for you…” James moved. His long legs ate up the distance between us. His leather shoes clicked against the marble, sounding like a countdown to death. Sophia and Evelyn exchanged a look of pure triumph. They thought James was going to rip me apart himself. The rest of the crowd shook their heads, silently bidding me farewell. James stopped right in front of me. He towered over me, his shadow completely swallowing me up. I stared straight into his dark eyes, refusing to flinch. Three seconds passed. And then, before the eyes of everyone in the room. The most powerful, brutal Alpha in the werewolf kingdom… …dropped to his knees. He fell hard, his knees slamming against the marble. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, burying his face into my stomach. His broad shoulders shook violently. A low, broken, and desperate voice echoed through the silent ballroom. “Emmy…” “You’re finally back…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “453577”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My boyfriend, James, was the illegitimate son of the Sunward Pack’s Alpha. In our world, humans held the lowest status. But a werewolf who couldn’t awaken their wolf? They were treated even worse. When James couldn’t shift, he couldn’t find a job to save his life. I worked myself to the bone as a full-time nanny to support him, giving him the absolute best of everything. That was until twelve black SUVs from the Sunward Pack lined up outside our crappy apartment to take him back. He abandoned me without a second thought. And he took my roommate with him. During a live press conference, a reporter pointed at me and asked, “Mr. Thompson, what is your relationship with the lady standing there?” James didn’t even blink. “Just a human maid who looked after me for a while.” Later, he became the revered Alpha heir of the wolf kingdom, while I turned around and married his greatest rival. On my wedding night, James had his men kidnap me. He pinned me down, his eyes wild with rage. “Why the hell would you marry a wereless loser?” I looked him dead in the eye and smiled. “Because he never treated me like a servant.” ***

The day the Sunward Pack came to fetch James, twelve sleek black SUVs completely blocked the narrow alleyway on my walk home. Reporters with heavy cameras crowded the entrance of my rundown apartment building, making it impossible to get through. Tired from a long shift, I had to take the long way around. My next-door neighbor, Grace Miller, ran up to me and excitedly grabbed my arm. “Emily! You hit the jackpot! Your boyfriend is actually the Alpha heir of the Sunward Pack!” Before I could even process her words, the crowd parted. James was walking down the steps, surrounded by a swarm of bodyguards and assistants. I had never seen him look like this. He wore a flawlessly tailored dark suit. He stood tall, radiating an air of cold, noble authority. And walking right beside him, clutching his arm, was my werewolf roommate, Sophia. When James looked at me, his eyes no longer held the warmth they used to. There was only the cold, arrogant disdain of a superior. A sharp-eyed reporter quickly blocked his path, pointing a microphone at me. “Mr. Thompson, what is your relationship with the lady standing over there?” James averted his gaze, his voice completely detached. “Just a human maid who looked after me for a while.” A collective gasp echoed through the crowd. My neighbors had seen me carrying heavy groceries and taking care of James every single day. They all knew he was my boyfriend. In an instant, pitying and mocking stares stabbed into me from every direction. I froze. I looked down at my ten-dollar Target T-shirt, my worn-out twenty-dollar sneakers, and the sheer exhaustion weighing down my shoulders. Yeah. I really did look like a maid. But I had taken care of James for five years. Even if he had just called me a neighbor, it wouldn’t have been this humiliating! As they reached the lead SUV, James pulled open the door for Sophia. But just as she stepped inside, he paused. He turned back to look at me, as if suddenly remembering something. “You’ve taken care of me for a long time,” James said loudly, his voice dripping with charity. “If you have a wish, name it. I can make it happen.” Grace Miller nudged me hard. “Go, Emily! This is your chance! Tell him to take you with him!” But I didn’t budge. I just raised the grocery bag in my hand, my voice deadpan. “Then let’s settle the bill. Pay me back for everything I spent taking care of you these past few years. Oh, and the expensive supplements I bought to help your wolf awaken.” “It comes to exactly fifty-nine thousand and eight hundred dollars.” I pulled out my phone, tapped the calculator, and showed him the screen. The surrounding crowd burst into sneers, whispering about how short-sighted and money-hungry I was. James frowned. A flash of complex emotion crossed his face, but he quickly masked it and signaled his assistant. The assistant immediately handed me a check. I glanced at it. Sixty thousand dollars. He gave me an extra two thousand. How generous. Sophia wrapped her arms tighter around his, looking down at me with a smirk. “Emily, James is being incredibly generous. He paid you exactly what you asked for. But from now on, we belong to two different worlds. I hope you won’t go around spreading lies about James to the media.” James stared at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t want anyone knowing we ever had anything to do with each other.” I got it. He was embarrassed of me. He was terrified I’d tell the media I was his ex. Don’t worry, buddy. Having a spineless, ungrateful ex like you isn’t exactly something I’d brag about. James left, and the crowd slowly dispersed. Only Grace Miller stayed behind, looking frustrated. “Emily, are you crazy? What is sixty thousand dollars going to do? You can’t even buy a decent studio with that!” My face was pale, but I forced a shrug. “But that’s exactly what he owed me.” Loving him was my choice. Taking care of him was my choice, too. I fell for the wrong guy, and I accepted the consequences. Grace sighed, poking my forehead gently, calling me a fool. When I walked back into the apartment, all of James’s things were gone. So were Sophia’s. After working a grueling shift and stopping by the pharmacy early in the morning to buy James’s medication, I was completely drained. I collapsed onto the sofa, unable to move a muscle. “Meow…” My little cat, Chubby, trotted over and tilted her head. She was a stray I had rescued from the streets. I forced myself up to feed her and tidy up the empty apartment. That night, I finally got some peace. Without James to support, my living expenses were practically nothing. Under normal circumstances, sixty thousand dollars could last me years. But I wanted to buy a house. I wanted a place that was truly mine. I decided to look for a new job. A few days later, while passing by a food truck near the university campus, I spotted a man in a flawless, expensive suit standing in front of the window. “Can I get loaded fries and ten beef skewers, please?” ***

I couldn’t help but stare. The man was tall—at least six-foot-three—with a face that looked like it was sculpted by a classical artist. A silver Porsche Cayenne was idling at the corner of the alley. A driver sat inside, clearly waiting for him. I was about to walk away when he suddenly turned. Our eyes locked. He froze for a second, then immediately strode over to me. “Are you Emily?” I looked at him, confused. “Do I know you?” He didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes swept over me from head to toe. He reached into his suit pocket, pulled out a sleek business card, and handed it to me. “I’m Mason. I need a private nanny to take care of my younger sister. Are you interested?” I looked down at the card. *Mason Gray, CEO of Gray Enterprises.* Everyone in the city knew Gray Enterprises. It belonged to the most powerful pack in the territory. Rumor had it that the CEO was an incredibly powerful, arrogant Alpha. My expression turned cautious. “Alpha Gray, I…” “Ten thousand dollars a month.” Hearing the salary, my brain short-circuited. “I’ll do it.” You had to understand, most werewolves despised hiring humans. Finding a high-paying human nanny job was practically impossible. Since Alpha Gray didn’t mind my human status, I wasn’t about to let this goldmine slip away. The next day, I arrived at the Gray estate. Mason opened the door himself. He was wearing gray athletic wear, looking like he had just returned from a run. Seeing me standing outside the ornate iron gates, he unlocked them and led me inside. The estate was massive. It took a solid eight minutes just to walk from the gates to the front double doors. I kept my guard up, quietly watching him from behind. What if this billionaire was some kind of creep lured me into his mansion? Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice him stop. *Thud.* I crashed face-first into his broad, rock-solid back. The impact made my nose throb painfully. “I am so sorry, Alpha Gray! I… I didn’t mean to!” I apologized, clutching my aching nose. Mason turned around, looking like he was at the end of his rope. “Do you seriously think I’m going to do something to you?” I blinked, looking a bit disappointed. “You’re not?” Mason let out a frustrated laugh. He raised a hand as if he wanted to flick my forehead, but restrained himself. “Stop calling me Alpha Gray. Look at me. Do you really not know who I am?” I stepped closer, studying his face, and shook my head. “No. Should I?” “Unbelievable…” “Seriously, I don’t know you! I’m just a nanny. There’s no way I’d know a high-profile billionaire like you. Maybe you have the wrong girl.” I knew a ten-thousand-a-month job was too good to be true. The hot CEO probably had terrible eyesight and mistook me for someone else. Mason gritted his teeth, a dark, dangerous smile spreading across his lips. “Emily. Say you don’t know me one more time. I dare you.” The temperature in the room instantly plummeted. His Alpha aura was suffocating. I shrank back, my eyes locked onto his sharp, handsome features. Suddenly, a memory flashed in my mind. A face covered in angry, red scars from wolf-venom poisoning… If you removed those scars… My eyes widened in sheer terror. The puzzle pieces clicked together. I turned on my heel and bolted for the door. ***

But I didn’t even make it two steps. A strong hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me backward with relentless force. My back hit the wall, and Mason’s towering frame closed in on me. He pinned my wrists above my head, trapping me completely. “Run again, Emily. Let’s see how far you get.” I couldn’t move. The physical disparity between us was ridiculous. I was completely at his mercy. Before James, I had another boyfriend. During the summer I turned seventeen, a transfer student joined my class. His name was Tyler Vance. His face was heavily scarred from wolf-venom. The other kids were terrified of him. They isolated him, and no one dared to sit near him in the cafeteria. Word was he had been poisoned during a rogue attack, and his wolf was completely dead. In our society, a wereless werewolf was lower than a human. Everyone called him “the trash.” His desk mate had begged the teacher to move, claiming Tyler’s face gave them nightmares. Left with no choice, the teacher asked the class if anyone would volunteer to sit next to him. I saw Tyler’s long fingers gripping the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white, betraying his absolute terror. Amidst the dead silence, I slowly raised my hand. The classroom immediately erupted into howling laughter. “Of course! Let the trash sit with the trash!” “A human and a broken wolf. Perfect match!” Back then, my grandmother was still alive. She worked grueling night shifts as a janitor and collected recycling cans to keep a roof over our heads. To help her pay the bills, I’d collect plastic bottles at school. My classmates avoided me, claiming I smelled like garbage. Since my freshman year, I had sat alone in the corner of the classroom. They gave me a humiliating nickname: “Trash Girl.” Ignoring their jeering, I stood by Tyler’s desk, nervously tugging at my shirt. “Tyler? Do you mind if I sit here?” I was terrified he would reject me, too. But Tyler looked up, his eyes shining as he nodded vigorously. “If you’re not afraid of me… I’d love to.” After that, we became inseparable. Tyler was brilliant. He was always at the top of the class, and he spent hours tutoring me. When I didn’t have money for lunch, he would split his allowance with me. During our senior year, he confessed his feelings and asked me to apply to the same Ivy League colleges with him. I said yes. I filled out my application for his dream school. But on the night of the application deadline, I was working a shift at a five-star hotel restaurant. I saw Tyler there with his family. Sitting next to him was a stunning werewolf girl. When their parents stepped away, I overheard them talking. They were planning to send Tyler abroad for treatment over the summer, and upon his return, the two would get engaged. My self-esteem shattered. I went home, changed my college application, and sent Tyler a text saying I had fallen in love with someone else and wanted to break up. Then, I blocked his number and disappeared from his life. Nobody knew where I went to college. And I never heard from Tyler again. “If James hadn’t been picked up by reporters that day, I wouldn’t have known you were back in Silverfalls,” Mason said, his voice laced with suppressed anger. “Did you dump me back then just for that Sunward Pack bastard?” ***

I didn’t expect the lie I told years ago to still haunt him. I struggled against his grip, finally wrenching my wrists free. “Whether I did or didn’t has nothing to do with you anymore. We broke up, Mason.” Mason looked like he was about to lose his mind. “Am I just some stray dog you can discard whenever you feel like it?” Before he could say more, the front door swung open. A girl in a high-end designer dress stepped into the foyer. She was stunning, looking like a literal princess. I recognized her instantly. She was the girl from the restaurant all those years ago. The one his family wanted him to marry. So, Mason was engaged and still trying to mess with my head? Did everyone just think I was an easy target? “Emily?” The girl gasped, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh my god, Mason! You finally found her!” Wait. *Mason?* She called him Mason. What was their actual relationship? Mason nodded, gesturing toward her. “Emily, this is Iris, the princess of the Sunward Pack.” “Emily, I—” Before Mason could finish, Iris rushed over and grabbed my arm enthusiastically. “I know! You’re Mason’s girlfriend!” I froze. Mason had actually told people I was his girlfriend? When James and I were together, he had no pack status and no job. I paid for everything. When he heard his stepmother was trying to kill him, he started pretending his wolf was about to awaken to protect himself. I didn’t know it was a act. I spent thousands of dollars buying him expensive supplements. I believed that since I was his girlfriend, I had to support him, wolf or no wolf. But he had been playing me the entire time, viewing me as nothing but a servant. I looked at Mason, my heart hammering. I needed to know if I had misunderstood everything back then. But then, Iris leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper near my ear. “Mason might like you, but I’m the one the Gray family chose for him. Look at yourself. You’re just a pathetic, broke human nanny. He’s not a broken wolf anymore, Emily. You don’t belong here.” My chest tightened. I instinctively pulled my arm back from her grip. But the moment I did, Iris let out a soft cry and tumbled onto the marble floor. She looked up at me with tear-filled eyes, playing the victim perfectly. “Emily… why did you push me?” I immediately looked at Mason, bracing myself for his anger. But Mason just stared down at Iris, his expression filled with sheer disgust. “Do you think I’m blind? Emily didn’t even touch you. I warned you never to come to my house again.” Without another word, Mason grabbed my hand, leaving a stunned Iris on the floor, and pulled me deeper into the mansion. He poured me a glass of water and made me sit on the plush sofa. “Emily, tell me the truth. That text you sent me years ago… it was a lie, wasn’t it? You didn’t love someone else.” Yes, and no. The text was a lie. But I did end up falling for someone else later. James pursued me relentlessly, and after taking care of him for five years, I had genuine feelings for him. I wasn’t going to deny my past, even if it turned out to be a massive mistake. Iris was James’s half-sister. And Mason had never been engaged to her. It was all just a delusion pushed by their parents. I ended up staying at the Gray mansion as a private nanny for Mason’s younger sister. Mason assigned me a room right next to his. That night, when I walked into my room, I realized there wasn’t a single blanket on the massive bed. I went to find the house manager. The manager kept a straight face. “Everything regarding your stay is personally handled by the Alpha. You’ll have to ask him, ma’am.” I swallowed my pride and knocked on Mason’s door. “Come in,” a deep voice rumbled. I pushed the door open. Mason was nowhere to be seen in the bedroom, but the sound of running water came from the adjoining bathroom. He was showering and told me to come in? Just as I turned to leave, the bathroom door swung open. Mason stepped out, steam swirling around him. He was completely shirtless, a single gray towel slung low on his hips, water droplets glistening on his toned chest.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “453578”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I stood by Liam from the days when he had nothing until he finally had everything. And yet, six months into our marriage, I was the one asking for a divorce. Lily, the girl I had been sponsoring, cried and swore she would cut off all contact with him. Liam did not try to stop me. He only sat there in silence, his thumb moving back and forth over the divorce papers, before he said quietly, “Lily reminds me of the way you used to be.” “Back then, I had nothing. I couldn’t give you the best. Now, whenever I see her, it’s like seeing you back then. I just wanted to make up for everything you went through with me.” So taking Lily to eat hot dogs from street carts, carrying her bags through the mall like a free porter, bringing her to Sedona to make wishes, spending a fortune at an auction to win her the “Moonlight Heart” diamond ring, staying up all night to keep her company – all of that was compensation. Compensation meant for me, handed to someone else. I did not want Liam anymore, either. …… I laughed and gave him a faint, mocking smile. “Liam, am I dead?” I was alive and standing right in front of him. What gave him the right to give my compensation to someone else? Liam said nothing. His mouth tightened as he watched me in silence. Lily went even paler, her legs nearly giving out beneath her. In the past, this would have sent me into hysterics. I would have screamed at him for being so emotionally detached. I would have hated how calm he always stayed, as if no matter what happened, he could never be the one at fault. But today, I only laughed softly. I uncapped the pen and tossed it in front of him. “Sign it. I’m only asking for half. That’s fair.” Ink splattered across his hand. Maybe I imagined it, but Liam’s fingers seemed to tremble for an instant. He picked up the pen. This time, his hand shook harder. He tried several times, but he could not bring himself to write his name. Finally, the pen struck the table with a sharp crack. “Ava, it’s really not what you think. You’ve misunderstood us.” “You can’t just throw away our marriage like this. I won’t agree to it.” Lily seemed to snap back to herself then. Tears welled in her eyes. She stumbled toward me, clutched the hem of my dress, and begged, “Ava, Liam and I really don’t have anything going on. He only treats me like a sister, like a younger version of you he wants to make things up to.” “Please don’t fight because of me. I’ll leave. I’ll leave right now. Just don’t be angry anymore.” I sighed. It was the same thing I had already said. Was I dead? Since I was not dead, why was my compensation being spent on someone else? “Lily is a girl you sponsor,” Liam said. “Are you seriously jealous of her?” “If I wanted another woman like you, why wouldn’t I just get a mistress?” By the last sentence, irritation had crept into his voice. “Isn’t that exactly what she is?” I asked, too exhausted to argue. No husband bought another girl a diamond ring. No husband stayed up all night talking to another girl. Once or twice could be called looking after someone. But twenty times in a single month? And he still expected me to call that innocent? I used to think I was being oversensitive. Now I realized I had been too slow. Too stupid. “Ava! You’ve lost your mind!” Liam rounded on me, furious. “She’s nineteen. She just started college. Do you have any idea what an accusation like that could do to her?” “She’s not like you. She didn’t go straight to work after high school. Are you trying to destroy her future?” Three questions, each one heavier than the last. Liam did not even realize how much he cared about Lily. My eyes burned. The tears would not stay back. He was right. I was not like Lily. I had started working early for him. I had woken before dawn and collapsed after dark for him. I had turned down an offer from a top university for him. He could forget all of that. But what right did he have to use it to hurt me? I tilted my head back and wiped my tears away roughly. It took everything I had to get the words out. “If that’s how you feel, then sign.” “Liam, let’s end this cleanly.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260804tWhOGwnjCU 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni929806”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

The night my grandmother was dying, Ethan Carter finally agreed to take me home. She was holding on by a thread—just wanted to see, one last time, the man I’d loved for seven years. We were halfway there when Ethan got a call from Claire Bennett. On the other end, she was crying so hard she could barely speak. “Ethan, I’m at the hospital alone. I’m so scared.” Ethan went quiet for a few seconds, then turned the car around. “Grace, Claire saved my life once. I can’t just ignore her.” This wasn’t the first time. On my birthday, he went with Claire to try on gala dresses. When I had a fever that wouldn’t break, he took Claire to her therapist. Now my grandmother was on her deathbed, asking to see him just once—and he still chose her. At three in the morning, my grandmother held my hand, her breath faint, and asked, “Is he almost here?” I smiled. “Almost.” But by the time she took her last breath, Ethan still hadn’t come. I closed her eyes for her and slid the wedding envelope she’d clutched all night—the one she’d wanted to place in Ethan’s hands herself—into the drawer. My phone lit up. A message from Ethan. “Claire fell asleep. I’ll come by later.” I didn’t reply. I just shut the drawer, and with it, the version of myself that had waited seven years for him. The day we buried my grandmother, I didn’t tell Ethan. I called the funeral home myself. Stood on the hill at the cemetery and watched the workers shovel dirt back into the ground, one scoop at a time. Aunt Linda was crying so hard she couldn’t stand straight. She grabbed my arm and asked, “Grace, where’s that fiancé of yours? Your grandmother’s gone, and he can’t even show his face?” “He’s busy.” My voice was so hoarse I couldn’t manage another word. After the last shovel of earth fell, I crouched in front of the headstone and set down a lilac honey cake—Grandma’s favorite. My phone buzzed. Ethan was calling. His tone was unusually gentle. “Grace, I’m at a furniture store picking out a dining table for the new place. Do you like round or rectangular?” I held the phone, frozen for a few seconds. It had been so long since he’d asked what I liked. I was about to answer when I heard Claire’s voice through the receiver. “Ethan, a square one. Grace’s family is small anyway—a square table is more than enough.” Ethan made a sound of agreement, then asked me, “What do you think?” “I—” “And this sideboard.” Claire’s voice was closer now, so clear she might as well have been standing in front of me. “White is too plain. Walnut is more refined. Grace already dresses so dull—the house shouldn’t feel that cold too, right?” Ethan let out a small laugh. “She’s really not great at picking these things.” I gripped my phone tighter. I’d wanted to pick a round table. Grandma always said that when a family eats together, they should sit in a circle. That’s what makes it feel like home. Ethan was still talking on the other end. “Grace, why aren’t you saying anything? Which one do you want?” Claire’s voice went soft, coaxing. “Ethan, let’s just go with this set. I’m sure Grace won’t mind.” “She never does.” I listened to those words—she never does—and suddenly felt so tired. Ethan and I had been together for years. Once, I really did think we were good. Until his mentor brought Claire back from abroad, and I realized some things had never truly ended. Back in college, they were everyone’s idea of a perfect pair. Same major, effortless chemistry. Even their advisor said it was a shame—wondered how they’d never gotten together. After Claire came back, that chemistry became even more obvious. Ethan was in the habit of hearing her opinion first. He consulted her on work matters, and in everyday life, he instinctively factored her in. And Claire acted like she’d always belonged there—arranging things for him, deciding for him. Most of the time, she’d already made the call before remembering to say to me: “Sorry, Grace—did I overstep?” The table, the sofa, the curtains—all chosen to Claire’s taste. It was supposed to be my home, but I couldn’t get a single complete thought out. I was quiet for a long time. Finally I said, “Whatever you two decide.” A brief silence on the other end. Ethan sounded relieved. “Then we’ll go with Claire’s pick.” I hung up. Grandma, I’m sorry. I made you wait alone again. On the long-distance bus back to the city, Ethan called again. This time, his voice was tinged with urgency. “Grace, I heard you went back to the town by yourself? Why didn’t you call me? I’ll go with you tomorrow to see your grandmother.” I was silent for a long time. He didn’t even know she was gone. “No need. She’s already buried.” Silence on the other end. A long silence. Then he said, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I—” The call cut off mid-sentence. Claire must have needed him again. That afternoon, Ethan’s mother called. Her first words after I picked up: “Grace, I heard your grandmother passed? My condolences.” “But the wedding is only two weeks away. Keep the funeral low-key—don’t let it overshadow the happy occasion.” I tightened my grip on the phone. She continued, “Ethan’s been exhausted lately, and Claire’s health is fragile. Don’t pile everything on him.” “Claire’s the bridesmaid for the wedding. She’s delicate—don’t let her run herself ragged.” “You don’t have many relatives on your side, so keep the program simple.” I closed my eyes. “I don’t have any family left.” A pause on the other end. As if she hadn’t heard me at all. “Anyway, the wedding can’t be a mess.” “If your grandmother were still here, she’d want you to marry into this family with dignity.” Of course Grandma wanted me to marry with dignity. That’s why she spent her last night alive clutching that envelope, waiting for Ethan. But no one cared. That night, I opened Instagram. Claire had posted something new. In the photo, she and Ethan sat in a Japanese restaurant. She was holding a piece of salmon with her chopsticks, tilting her head toward the camera with a smile. Ethan sat across from her, his face out of frame—but I recognized the hand wearing his watch. He was pouring soy sauce for her. The caption read: “Thanks to Ethan for feeding this patient despite his busy schedule. Very touched.” Posted at six p.m. Which meant that when I told him Grandma had already been buried, he was having dinner with Claire. I pressed my phone face-down on the bed, rolled over, and stared at the ceiling for a very, very long time.

Three days after I got back to the city, I went to the wedding planning company. The receptionist recognized me and immediately walked over with a smile. “Ms. Grace, you’re here! Ms. Claire was in this morning—she already signed off on the final proof of the invitations.” I stopped. “What final proof?” “The invitations.” She pulled out a printed sample and handed it to me. “Ms. Claire said you gave her full authority, so we had her sign the approval.” I took the invitation. The cover font had been changed, sure enough. Beneath the gold-foil names, there was a set of initials. E.C. E for Ethan. But my name is Grace. “The C stands for…?” The receptionist blinked, then flipped through the notes. “Oh—Ms. Claire said the bride’s name could be written as Claire. More international, more elegant.” Claire. I stared at those two letters and suddenly laughed. “Cancel the wedding.” The receptionist went blank. “Ms. Grace, what did you say?” “Terminate the contract. Keep the deposit. I’ll pay the cancellation fee.” I placed my bank card on the counter. She panicked and made three phone calls in a row. The planner rushed over and grabbed my hand. “Ms. Grace, did you and Mr. Carter have a fight? Why don’t you take some time to think it over? Ms. Claire—” “It has nothing to do with her.” I signed the papers and stood up. As I turned, Claire walked through the door. She wore a white sundress and carried the bag Ethan had bought her last month on her arm. She froze when she saw me, then smiled and walked over. “Grace! You’re here too? I was just about to talk to you about the color for the bridesmaid dresses.” “No need. Work it out with the planner.” I stepped around her and headed for the exit. She caught up from behind and grabbed my wrist. “Grace, are you upset?” “Is it because I changed the dessert last time? I really didn’t mean to—I just thought cranberry fit the overall color palette better.” I looked at her hand. Fair, nails filed smooth, painted a pale pink. I suddenly thought of my grandmother’s hands—joints swollen and twisted, yet still gripping that envelope with all her remaining strength. “Claire.” I pulled my wrist free. “The lilac honey flavor was my choice. Because my grandmother loved it.” Her expression stiffened for an instant. Then quickly returned to that look of wounded innocence. “I didn’t know. Grace, why didn’t you say something sooner? If you’d told me, I definitely wouldn’t have changed it.” Seven years. Every single time: “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” When I did speak up, she pretended not to hear. When I didn’t, she took it as consent. “It’s fine.” I smiled. “You chose well. I’m heading out.” I walked through the doors and the sunlight hit me so hard I felt dizzy. My stomach started hurting again. A dull ache, wave after wave—it had been getting more frequent over the past three months. I leaned against a pillar on the sidewalk, fished the painkillers from my bag, and dry-swallowed two. Three months ago, the day I got my diagnosis, I sat in the hallway outside the oncology department and called Ethan. It took seven calls before he picked up. The background noise was loud. A woman was crying. He said, “Grace, Claire’s having another episode. I can’t leave. Let’s talk tonight.” I said, “Ethan, my test results came back today. The doctor said—” He cut me off. “Hold on. Claire, don’t cry, I’m here.” “Grace, what were you saying? Bad signal—let’s talk when I’m home.” He hung up. That night, he came home exhausted and fell asleep on the couch. His phone sat face-up on the coffee table. The screen lit up. A message from Claire. “Ethan, thank you for being with me today. You must be so tired. Get some sleep. Goodnight.” Followed by a kiss emoji. I stood behind him and stared at that message for a long time. Then I walked into the study, folded the diagnosis report, and slipped it between the pages of my journal. I never brought it up again.

After leaving the wedding planner, I went to Ethan’s office. My stomach was still aching. I leaned against the elevator wall and swallowed two more painkillers. The receptionist saw me and smiled. “Ms. Grace! Mr. Carter’s in a meeting—would you like me to let him know?” I set the manila envelope on the desk. “No need. Just pass this along to him.” She looked confused. “You’re not going to wait?” “No.” Passing Ethan’s office, the door was half-open. Claire’s voice drifted out. “Ethan, this apartment is really nice—the guest room even has its own bathroom.” “If I stay over once in a while, it’ll be convenient.” Ethan said, “Let Grace take a look. If she’s happy with it, we’ll lock it in.” Claire laughed. “When has Grace ever not been happy? You could put her in a basement and she’d think you were doing her a favor.” Ethan said quietly, “Don’t talk about her like that.” But there was no reproach in his voice. Claire asked again, “So the wedding invitations are going with the version I approved this morning? Grace isn’t going to suddenly change her mind, is she?” Ethan gave a short laugh. “What’s she going to change her mind about?” “The wedding’s almost here. She’ll throw a fit for two days, then get over it on her own.” Claire sounded relieved. “I thought she was actually angry today.” “She’s not like that.” Ethan’s tone was certain. “She can’t let go.” I stood outside the door, and suddenly I wanted to laugh. So it wasn’t that he didn’t know I loved him. He knew it too well. And so my concessions, my silence, my hurt—they’d all become his safety net. He was certain I couldn’t let go. Certain I couldn’t leave. Certain that no matter how many times he turned around to be with Claire, I’d be standing in the same spot, waiting. Just like the night Grandma was dying. When he turned the car around, he didn’t even glance back at me. Because he knew I’d make excuses for him, smooth things over, swallow every humiliation on his behalf. I didn’t listen any longer. I turned and walked into the elevator. Downstairs, my phone buzzed. A message from Ethan. “What’s the key card and keys supposed to mean?” I didn’t reply. Soon, a second message came in. “Grace, what are you pulling now?” A third. “The wedding’s almost here. Don’t make us a joke in front of everyone.” I looked at the screen and felt, all at once, utterly drained. I turned off my phone and took a cab back to the apartment. Ethan finished his meeting and the receptionist brought the envelope into his office. “Mr. Carter, Ms. Grace stopped by earlier. She asked me to give you this.” Ethan opened it. Inside were the key card to the new apartment, the spare keys, and the engagement ring he’d given me. His brow creased. Claire asked softly, “Did I do something wrong? Did Grace misunderstand?” Ethan tossed the envelope into a drawer. “She’s just throwing a tantrum.” “She wouldn’t even cancel the wedding. Where’s she going to go?” Then he texted me. “I’m coming home tonight. You’re going to explain yourself.” A few minutes later, he added: “Enough is enough.” No reply. Ethan stared at the chat, mildly irritated but not worried. Every fight before this one, Grace had caved first. This time wouldn’t be any different. Claire asked, “Ethan, are we still going to that Japanese place tonight?” Ethan checked the time. “Yes.” “I’ll drop you off at the hospital after dinner, then go deal with her.” Claire smiled. “Won’t Grace be even angrier?” Ethan grabbed his jacket, tone casual. “She’s loved me for seven years. She won’t actually be angry.” “She can’t leave me.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260804Bi2z6mgHgV 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni747619”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

The day before Thanksgiving. I was on the Acela Express to Boston, ready to give my husband a surprise. The food cart rolled by. The girl across from me spoke at the same time I did. “No nuts, please!” We both froze for a second. Then we shared a smile. Her fiancé, she said, had a severe nut allergy. After all this time, she avoided them too. I smiled back and replied, “My husband’s the same. Even a trace of nuts sends him straight to the ER.” “Oh my god, exactly the same!” She pulled up her phone and leaned closer. “Look. When I order takeout for him, I always add a note in all caps. NO NUTS. Three times.” I saw the note. And right below it—I saw the delivery information. Julian Vance. Pier 7, Seaport. Apartment 1803. The sandwich in my hand suddenly felt too hot to hold. Julian was my husband. Pier 7, Seaport, Apartment 1803. That was my destination. The train plunged into a shadow. The window reflected my pale face. She was still smiling. “Are you going to Boston too? Maybe our guys are colleagues.” … “Hey, you went quiet. Are you okay?” Chloe tilted her head, her eyes so innocently clear. “It’s nothing,” I said. My throat felt like it was closing up. “It’s just… such a coincidence.” “Right? I feel like we were meant to meet!” She grinned so hard her eyes crinkled. Then she poked at her fifteen-dollar train salad with disgust. “What is this? The lettuce is all wilted.” “That’s train food for you.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “You’ll have to make do.” “No way.” She shook her head, a pout in her voice. “It would kill my fiancé if he knew I was eating this.” With that, she swiped open her phone again, shoving the screen in my face. “See? This is the French restaurant he took me to last Thursday. The bottle of wine alone was over a grand.” I said nothing. I just looked down at the identical salad in front of me. Last Thursday. I had a 102 fever and drove myself to the clinic for an IV. My phone screen was blindingly bright. I texted Julian, asking for two thousand dollars for the medical bill. Three hours later, he sent a single reply. “In a meeting. Use your credit card. Don’t bother me with petty stuff like this.” So this was the meeting.

I looked down. My throat felt tight. It took me forever to get the words out. “He really goes all out for you.” Chloe’s smile got even sweeter. She looked completely smitten. “He just loves spending money on me. He gives me twenty thousand a month as an allowance. I tell him I can’t spend it all, but he insists. He says he works his ass off just to make me happy.” She cupped her chin and leaned closer. “So, what about your husband? How much does he give you a month?” I swallowed a mouthful of cold lettuce and said drily, “Five hundred.” Chloe froze. Her eyes went wide as saucers. “Five hundred? What can you even do with five hundred dollars? Julian spent almost forty grand last month just taking me shopping.” She didn’t say anything else. Her eyes swept over me and stopped on my faded T-shirt. I knew that look in her eyes all too well. It was pity, mixed with a weird, awkward discomfort. I found that shirt at an outlet mall. Thirty-five dollars. I’ve had it for three years. Chloe seemed to sense how awkward things had just gotten. She quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, how did you and your husband meet? You should tell me the story.”

Chloe dug a bag of organic dried fruit out of her purse and offered it to me. I recognized the brand. I’d picked it up and put it back on the shelf at Whole Foods more times than I can count. Every time I saw the price tag, I’d quietly walk away. “We were college classmates,” I said. “Back then, he was so poor he couldn’t even afford his textbooks. I worked two cafeteria jobs. Every penny I saved went to his tuition. We’d split a single cold sandwich for dinner. That was our meal.” Chloe’s eyes lit up. She looked genuinely moved. “Oh my god, that’s amazing… You stuck with him through the absolute worst of it. So now he must worship the ground you walk on, right? Maybe not big on words, but grateful as hell? He must treat you like a queen.” I turned to stare out the window, at the blur of scenery rushing past. My voice was flat. “No.” I paused. “Now… he’s probably tired of me.”

Chloe was about to say something comforting, but her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and let out a little laugh. Then, she turned the screen towards me. “Look how cute my fiancé is.” I stared at the two messages. 【Babe, wait for me right at the exit. Be good, don’t wander off.】 【We’re spending Thanksgiving together. I can’t wait to see you.】 And I thought about the text Julian had sent me last night. A curt, dismissive message. Project’s at a critical stage. Can’t make it back for Thanksgiving. I had planned to surprise him. I was going to sneak up to Boston on the train. Now, it looked like the surprise was turning into a complete shock. I forced a smile. “Yeah. He’s really into you.” Chloe looked a little embarrassed. “He’s insisting I move to Boston. He wants us to be together before the baby arrives.”

My chest tightened, making every breath hurt. Julian and I had been together for seven years. I worked multiple jobs to support his startup. I ran myself into the ground. My body has never been the same since. In those seven years, I had three miscarriages. Last month, I finally got pregnant again. I was overjoyed. I showed him the test results. He told me to get rid of it. I froze. He put on this look of deep concern. He said my health was too poor. That the pregnancy would be a risk. He said we only needed each other. That we could stay child-free forever. I was so moved I could barely think. I actually believed he was doing it for me. Looking at the girl across from me, I finally got it. He already had another family. “Hey, you spaced out.” Chloe’s voice pulled me back to reality. “It’s nothing.” I forced a smile. “Your fiancé… he really loves you.” “Yeah. He’s gotten everything ready for me.” She pulled out her phone again, showing me more photos. “This is the home he bought me last month. It’s a waterfront condo in the Seaport. Killer view.”

The photo showed a huge, bright living room overlooking the Boston Harbor. But my eyes locked on the date the photo was taken. It was from last month. That was when my handmade jewelry business was falling apart. My cash flow had dried up. I was desperate. I had nowhere else to turn. For the first time in my life, I swallowed my pride. I begged Julian, crying, to lend me thirty thousand dollars. All I needed was to survive the month. I told him I’d pay him back as soon as my next collaboration advance came in. But he was so annoyed. So dismissive. “Where am I supposed to find spare company cash to fund your little hobby? I told you you weren’t cut out for business. You should close up shop and stay home.” I couldn’t get that thirty thousand dollars. So my business—my baby for three years—had to be sold. I had to sell it off cheap to cover the debt. I locked myself in my room and cried all night. And I still kept making excuses for him. Telling myself his business was struggling. Telling myself I had to understand. But his company wasn’t struggling at all. He was using that money to buy another woman a multimillion-dollar waterfront home.

Chloe was completely clueless, still gushing about her perfect life. “Did your husband buy you a house?” I twisted the cap off my water bottle and took a huge gulp. “No.” Chloe frowned. “Your husband doesn’t appreciate you. At all. That kind of man is completely selfish.” She was furious on my behalf. “You’re only with him because you’re too nice and you put up with it. If it were me, I would’ve dumped him ages ago.” I looked at her, so innocent and naive. It all felt so ridiculous. Julian had spoiled her into this clueless princess. With his own hands, he crushed my pride. He turned me into a bitter, paranoid mess, always bracing for the next blow. “You’re right.” I turned to the window. My voice was quiet. “I really shouldn’t be with him anymore.”

The train rolled on smoothly. Chloe must have sensed how uncomfortable I was. She tried to change the subject. “Do you like dogs?” “My fiancé got me a golden retriever. He’s such a good boy.” In the photo, she was holding a big, beautiful golden retriever. She was smiling brightly. A few young guys stood around them. They were all laughing and playing with the dog. “His partners and friends love him. They always ask me to bring him to their get-togethers.” She covered her face, a little embarrassed. “They always joke around, calling me Mrs. Vance. But we’re not even married yet.” I stared hard at that photo. Chloe’s happy laughter faded away. My hands started to shake again. The golden retriever had a small nick in its left ear. A scar from when he was a puppy. That was my dog. He was the only piece of my parents I had left. His name was Sunny. Three months ago, Sunny disappeared. I went into a total panic. I plastered the entire neighborhood with ‘Lost Dog’ flyers.

Julian even canceled his work. He spent two whole days with me, searching in the pouring rain. He watched me cry until I threw up. Then he pulled me into his arms like it broke his heart. “Eleanor, you still have me. I’ll always be here for you.” After losing Sunny, I fell apart for a while. I’d wander the streets alone late at night. The only way I could sleep was by taking a handful of antidepressants. Every night, Julian would set out a glass of warm water. He’d watch me take the pills. Then he’d sigh and say I was “too emotional.” But Sunny was never lost. And the men in the photo, the ones calling Chloe “Mrs. Vance”… I knew them. They were Julian’s business partners. His best friends. We had been together for seven years. He never once let me into his social circle. His excuse? The business world was too complicated. He was “protecting” me from it. Turns out, he had no problem introducing a partner to his friends. It just wasn’t me.

Bzzz… Bzzz… On the table, Chloe’s phone buzzed again. “It’s my fiancé!” She answered happily and hit the speakerphone button. “Babe, where are you?” Julian’s voice came through the phone, crystal clear. I held my breath. I didn’t dare make a sound. “Almost at the next stop, I think.” Chloe whined into the phone. “This train salad is disgusting. I’m starving.” “Don’t worry. When you get here, I’ll take you to that Italian place you love in the North End. I already made a reservation.” Julian’s voice was syrup-sweet. “It’s windy out. Remember to put on your coat when you get off. Don’t catch a cold.” “Okay, okay, you’re so fussy. I’ll see you soon.” Chloe hung up with a playful huff. The train car fell quiet again. And right at that moment, my own phone screen lit up. A text. It was from him, too. 【Project’s crazy busy. Don’t text me unless it’s urgent. I won’t have time to check.】

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni331052”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

The wedding cars had been idling outside my father’s house for three hours. Marissa Belrose refused to move from the seat beside my fiancé—the seat that was supposed to be mine. She was my fiancé Dominic Sterling’s assistant. The girl who’d been fighting me for the front passenger seat for eight months. She was looking straight at me through the window. “Nora. Didn’t you say you get carsick? This time the front is yours. I’ll sit next to Dominic.” “Can you get on with the wedding now?” “Nora. You know that’s my seat.” I looked past her. Two of Dominic’s men stood by the lead car. Neither had moved. Neither had looked at me. Their eyes stayed on Dominic, waiting for his order. But Dominic never gave the order to move her. I swallowed the heat rising in my throat. “Dominic. Get her out.” Dominic shook his head. Gave me that tired look. The one he’d been giving me for a year. “Nora. She’s not feeling well. Are you going to make a scene over a seat? Are you getting in or not?” “If you keep this up, don’t bother. Walk yourself to the church.” He checked his Patek. I smiled. “Fine. Then I’m not marrying you today.” I didn’t hesitate. I turned and walked toward the car trailing right behind the wedding procession. I looked at the man inside. “You said you’d wait for me. “ “Come marry me. Right now.” *** The wedding cars had shown up three hours late to begin with. I looked at Marissa in the back seat. She was wearing the sea-island cotton shirt I’d had custom-made for Dominic. Turnbull & Asser. Madison Avenue. His initials embroidered over the pocket in French navy. I finally understood. My fiancé had spent the night in bed with his assistant. Dominic wasn’t answering his phone that whole morning. Nobody at the Sterling compound in Newport would tell us anything. My father thought there’d been an accident on I-95. He pulled his old bike out of the garage and rode ten miles down the route we’d mapped. Until he flagged the wedding convoy down himself. The lead car was empty of him. My father’s bike folds. It would have fit in the trunk. But he rode the ten miles back. His jacket was streaked with dust. He stopped in the little grove behind the house and brushed himself off before he walked in the front door. He wanted to spare me the humiliation in front of the guests. Something in my chest twisted so hard I couldn’t breathe. Every ritual my parents had planned got skipped. Dominic never got out of the car. His only explanation: “Sorry. Rough night.” But the lipstick on his collar was visible from ten feet away. Chanel red. Not my shade. Marissa pulled three sentences out of the air and poured the whole mess on me. “Nora. You know there’s nothing between me and Dominic. You’re the one making a scene in front of everyone. That’s on you.” “You’re supposed to be his Donna. Don’t you know how to give a Don face when he’s off balance? That’s the least a Donna does.” She said it leaning into Dominic’s chest. My custom shirt against his lapel. Her look at me was pure triumph. Something in my ribs pulled tight. Today Dominic was wearing yesterday’s shirt. It reeked of Marissa’s perfume. “Marissa had too much last night. Nothing clean in her bag. It was the only shirt at the apartment. I gave it to her.” So he’d taken the shirt I’d made for our wedding and put it on her. I pressed every feeling in my chest flat. “Dominic. Call off the wedding.” Dominic glanced at his watch. Impatience flickered across his face. “Nora. Get in the car or I’ll make you regret it.” “So you’re really calling off the wedding over a seat?” “Yes.” I cut him off before he could finish. Dominic looked at me. Nodded slowly. “Fine. Have it your way.” He turned back to Marissa, reaching in to adjust the shawl across her lap, careful, unhurried. He had never once touched me in public that way. “Get comfortable. We’ll be moving in a minute.” Then he climbed in beside her and closed the door. He looked at me through the glass, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Marissa, impatience written across his whole face. “Nora. The passenger seat is yours. Or the back of the sedan behind. Take your pick.”

The relatives saw where things were going. But the men standing beside Dominic’s car kept them from saying a word on my behalf. One by one they made excuses. Stepped back toward the porch. Toward their own cars. Toward anywhere else. Ten minutes ago there had been fifty people in the driveway. Now the driveway was empty. Just me. My mother. My father. “The church keeps calling. Are we going or not?” Dominic rolled the window down. That edge in his voice. Daring me. Marissa already had her phone out, posting from beside him. 【Riding in the wedding car with Dominic today. Comfy seats. Could get used to this. 💍】 A picture of herself in the seat next to him. The comments came in fast. 【OMG finally!! I always said you two were endgame.】 【Thank GOD it’s not that uptight Whitfield girl. Dominic deserves better.】 【So happy for you.】 Congratulations poured in like a series of slaps. And he liked the post. “Nora. You want me to sit with you?” My father took my hand. Voice low. Careful. Dominic and I had been together seven years. Started at Cornell. Everyone I knew knew how much I loved him. The Sterlings were a rising Mafia Family out of Newport. My father ran a two-bay auto shop in Cranston. I was nobody’s daughter from nowhere important. The gap was Grand Canyon wide. My father had been afraid he couldn’t protect me. I’d never told him what Dominic really was. But thirty years under the hoods of other men’s cars had taught him things. No ordinary man swaps his factory windows for ballistic glass.No ordinary man’s driver carries a gun. My father had figured it out on his own. He’d tried to stop this engagement for two years. He didn’t come to two Christmases because of it. But I insisted on marrying Dominic. After graduation I clawed my way up. Nine shots of Woodford at a sit-down to close a deal. Never blinked. I knew what I was to Dominic, and what I wasn’t in Family. I wanted to be useful to him. I wanted to earn my seat at the Family table by helping him move the dirty money into the clean columns. Five years to make it from admin to Chief of Staff at the Sterling firm. Running the properties. Running the construction contracts. Running every piece of paper that let dirty dollars come out white. Standing at Dominic’s right hand. He’d sworn he kept work and us in separate rooms. Then Marissa Belrose walked in with a title and took the exact seat I’d bled five years to earn. Dominic and I had our first real fight the day Marissa was hired. Two weeks of silence. Ended without resolution. Last night, packing my things, my father, who has never once bent for anyone, pulled me aside before he turned the light off. “Whatever you decide from here on out, kiddo, your dad supports you. Just don’t stop coming home.” I looked at Dominic now, at the way he was speaking to me, at what he had done to my parents’ morning. Dad. I understand now what you were afraid of. I don’t want to marry him anymore. I pulled the veil off my head. Dropped it on the pavement. “Dominic. Take your people and go. I’m not marrying you.” Dominic’s face darkened as he stepped out of the sedan. “Nora. Playing hard-to-get doesn’t work on me. Think carefully.” “Seven years with me. Wedding’s half done. You walk now, you’re a woman the Sterlings threw away. Who’s going to take you after that?” He said it in front of my parents. Didn’t blink. The sky had gone dark. A fine drizzle started. Marissa saw Dominic get out. She slipped out of the car behind him. “Nora. Sweetheart. This is just because you think Dominic and I are too close, right?” “If you’ll just get through the ceremony today. Give Dominic his moment. I promise. I’ll turn in my notice tomorrow. I’ll take care of the baby. I’ll leave.” She said it looking straight into my eyes, her hand stroking her stomach in slow. Then she threw herself against Dominic’s chest, sobbing on cue.

A baby. The word passed through me like a live current. Marissa curled into Dominic’s chest like a stray kitten. Her palm settled on her stomach. She hit the word pregnancy deliberately. “When.” I forced it out through my teeth. The white satin glove on my hand was crushed in my own grip. Dominic’s face was dark. “Don’t listen to her. Get in the car. If you don’t want her around, I’ll send her away tomorrow.” My father stepped in front of me. His voice was iron. “My daughter gave you seven years of her life. You spent them running around with other women. You think that’s decent?” He only moved his foot half a step forward. Dominic’s arm shot out to shield Marissa’s stomach. Pulled her against him. I laughed. “Dominic. You lie like a teenager.” “Send her away where? To the maternity suite at the Four Seasons in Boston?” Dominic went still. Last month I’d seen a reservation confirmation on his phone. Four Seasons Boston. Booked for the day after our wedding. Special note attached to the booking: prenatal-suitable amenities requested. I’d thought it was for our honeymoon. I’d started prenatals a month early. Walked away from a Providence account I’d spent half a year closing. Cut caffeine. Cut wine. I’d let all of it go because I thought Dominic was finally going to take me in. Make me one of the Family. I’d been prepping my body for a child. I hadn’t understood, until this moment, that the room was already occupied. My eyes moved down to Marissa’s stomach. She was showing. “What. Can’t handle it? Just because I’ve got his baby?” “What if I told you my child is the one who’s going to carry the Sterling name? And you? You spend the rest of your life at that table and no one on it will ever call you one of us.” Marissa’s voice pushed harder with every sentence. The provocation in her eyes tipped over into open contempt. My father’s face went white with rage. “You have no shame. You’re not going to hurt my daughter. Tomorrow I’m parking myself outside your office with a sign that says you seduced an engaged man.” “I don’t have much left. But I’ve got enough for that.” My father barely finished the sentence. Marissa’s hands flew to her stomach. She pitched backward. “Dominic. My baby. Something’s wrong.” The rain came down harder. From drizzle to full downpour. Dominic crossed the driveway in three strides. He caught her against his chest. “Nora. Get your father’s mouth under control. Apologize. To Marissa. Right now. One more word out of him and I’ll have his tongue on the floor of this driveway.” “If anything happens to Marissa, I don’t know how I’ll answer to her father.” I looked up. Met his eyes. “Answer? Which father are you planning to answer to, Dominic?” “Marissa’s. He’s practically my father-in-law.” Something cold slid down my back. My father was still standing right there. In the rain. And Dominic had just called another man his father-in-law to his face. Five years I’d spent trying to earn a seat at that table. And Dominic had handed the title I’d never been given to a woman who’d never worked a day for it. “Nora. Stop playing word games. Last time. Get in the car. You know what I’m capable of. I’ve always thought you were a smart woman. Don’t make me revise that.” The sentences from him. Like the rain. They put out every last ember of expectation I’d had for seven years. For this wedding, my parents had put together a $40,000 gift for Dominic. The gap between our families was real. My parents had scraped for half their lives to pull that money together. Just to give Dominic respect. All so I could stand as Dominic Sterling’s Donna without ever bowing my head. And now Dominic was calling Marissa’s father Dad. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I finally understood that everything I’d done, every year I’d bled, would never buy me one ounce of respect from this man. “And if I say no?” Dominic’s brow knit at the center. “Fine.” “You. And you. Take that house apart. Every board. Every window. I want the driveway looking like a crater by the time we pull off. Consider it Marissa’s wedding gift from the bride.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260804tkuFlFdGCq 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni188845”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

My fiancé, Don Julian Ashford, lost the hearing in his left ear years ago—an ambush by a rival family when he was seventeen. He hears everything through his right ear now. Three years. Every time I raise my voice at him, he can’t make it out. But he can hear Sienna Vaughn, my closest friend, tap her fingernail against a coffee cup from three meters away. Sienna never speaks up. She directs him with gestures. Two soft taps on the table. Julian’s on his feet, sliding an Americano across the counter into her hand. She glances toward the window. He’s already up, drawing the blackout blinds. Meanwhile I’m sitting on his right. I say his name twice at ordinary volume. He turns. Blinks. “Sorry, baby. Louder. Didn’t catch that.” I bury the hurt. Tell myself he’s just worn out from the wedding logistics. Until the engagement shoot. Julian pulls Sienna into the frame. Arm around her shoulder. “Group shot. She’s here anyway.” The photographer hesitates. Hands the proof to me. In the photo, Julian’s right pinky is hooked around Sienna’s. He’s laughing, loose. I set the bouquet down on the vanity. Watching him lean into her, smiling the way he used to smile at me—I don’t cry. I don’t ask. If he’s never going to hear me, I’m done spending myself on him. *** The photographer fans thirty proofs across the table. Julian’s eyes slide past me. Land on Sienna. “Sienna. Which one?” Sienna doesn’t answer. Just taps one shot with her index finger. The group shot. Julian turns to the coordinator. “This one. Blow it up. Front-of-house welcome board.” The coordinator freezes. Looks at me. Sienna takes a graceful half-step back. “A maid of honor probably shouldn’t be on the welcome board, Julian.” Julian’s already lifted her Burberry trench off the chair. “Come on. You’ve been with us since day one.” Only then does he remember I exist. Turns to me. Asks my blessing. I smile. “Sure. Put it in the middle.” There’s not going to be a bride standing next to it anyway. He nods, pleased. Reaches to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I tilt my head. Pretend to fix my hem. His hand hangs in the air. Drops. He doesn’t try again. He doesn’t notice I’ve dodged him, because at that exact moment Sienna’s nail has just tapped the rim of her empty water glass. Twice. Julian goes to the bar. Comes back with a bottle of room-temperature Fiji. No ice. Her temperature. Sienna looks up. Mouths at him, silent. Thank you. Julian reads every curve of her lips. Meanwhile, my “Pour me one too” is delivered less than two feet from his left ear. He doesn’t even turn his head. I open my phone. Pull up the Newport venue booking and the first-class tickets I’d reserved for the grandparents. I start with the Acela. Six first-class seats, Boston to Penn. Cancel. Refund. Confirm. While Julian is adjusting the angle of Sienna’s straw, the last notification pings. I hit cancel on the full hotel reservation. Eighteen thousand four hundred, refunded to my Amex. He never once turns to see what I’m doing. Next: welcome favors. Forty boxes. Curated them one at a time last month. Fortnum & Mason English Breakfast paired with Harney & Sons Earl Grey. Julian’s grandmother has drunk that exact combination every morning since 1998. Sienna picks up a Walker’s shortbread from the samples. Wrinkles her nose. Pushes the whole tin two inches away. Julian sees. Turns to the favors manager. “Swap the entire lot. Blue Bottle pour-over sachets instead. Sienna recommended them before.” I raise my voice. “The grandparents don’t drink coffee.” Julian raps his knuckle against his own right ear. “Baby, the louder you get the less I hear. It’s just noise. Manager, go ahead.” The manager brings over the change order. Bottom line jumps from thirty-eight hundred to twelve thousand four. Sienna’s at the sample table, ribbon looped through her fingers. It’s tangled around her wrist. She doesn’t work it loose. She just frowns at Julian. Julian crosses the room. Unwinds it, coil by coil, from her wrist. The morning we went to City Hall to register, I had a fresh pair of Manolo Blahniks on. Not broken in yet. He walked three yards ahead of me. Kept checking his watch. Called back for me to hurry up. “Nora. Move it. You’re embarrassing me.” He couldn’t hear my heels dragging on the floor. He just thought I was slow. The manager’s still holding out the pen. I set the change order back on the table. Take a step back. Smile at Julian. “Your call. You sign.” He frowns. But Sienna’s watching. He signs. Chase Sapphire. Twelve thousand four. Ashford’s ports move hundreds of thousands in and out every day. That customs pipeline was built on three patents in my name, three years ago. But he tells me to front the wedding money. Says it’s a small enough item that I can handle it solo. While they’re picking gift-wrap colors, I open the beverage supplier’s back end. Forty tables. Champagne tower. Two magnums of Dom Pérignon per table. Delete. Cancel. Confirm. Julian comes back with a sample bag of Sienna’s coffee. Still riding the buzz of a decision made together. “Nora. Dinner?” Three times louder than he was speaking to me two minutes ago. Because Sienna is watching. Because Julian has to perform the doting-Don-fiancé for whatever audience is present, to secure the shape of his role. My actual thoughts have never entered the calculation. He only softens in front of the family. “Whatever,” I say. Ordinary volume. He doesn’t hear. He turns back to Sienna. “Sushi?” She nods. Traces a small circle in the air. “The conveyor spot in SoHo. Got it.” He doesn’t look at me once. I follow them out of the venue. My phone is dark in my hand. The confirmation email is already sitting in my inbox. Your cancellation has been processed. Refund will be returned in 5–7 business days.

The movers set the last three boxes down in the new apartment. Sienna’s already on the sofa, flipping through a Vogue. She said she stopped by to walk her entrance routing for the maid-of-honor procession. The TV is on. Midday news. Sienna lifts a finger. Touches her own right ear. Julian’s out of the kitchen in two steps. The TV is off. I’m in the hall, holding a box of books. I ask him at ordinary volume. “Bookshelves in the master. Left wall or right wall?” His back’s to me. He’s pouring Sienna room-temperature water. He doesn’t turn. I ask again. Louder. He still doesn’t turn. Sienna takes the glass. Walks into the master bedroom. Sits on the edge of the bed. Looks up at the Murano floor lamp in the corner. “That lamp’s a little dim.” Half the volume of my question. Julian is in the room within seconds. Reaches up. Takes the shade off. That’s a 1960s Venini. I sat on 1stDibs for an entire week to snipe it. I follow him in. “What are you doing to it?” Julian reads Sienna’s lips. Translates her silent line to me. “The light’s too dim. We’ll swap it for something brighter.” Sienna shakes her head from the bed. “Really. It’s fine. Don’t switch it on my account.” Julian hands me the lamp. “It’s not a big deal, baby. Sienna has sensitive eyes. Pick another one. You’re on 1stDibs every week anyway.” I don’t answer. I turn. Set the lamp inside a box that’s already been packed shut by the door. Later that afternoon a Bergdorf Goodman car pulls up on Marlborough Street. Two associates hang the bridal and bridesmaid pieces one by one on the rolling rack in our foyer. Sienna tries the short bridesmaid dress. Stands in front of the full-length mirror. Her eyes settle on her own right calf. A three-inch scar rides the outside of it, exposed by the hem. Sienna touches the scar with a fingertip. Doesn’t speak. Julian’s gaze follows her finger down. His brow tightens. Sienna reaches for my reception gown hanging next to her—Oscar de la Renta, full train, two months of hand-embroidered custom work. She lifts it. Holds it up against her own body. “This length would cover it.” Julian turns to me. The tone he uses on subordinates. “Sienna has that scar. The short cut doesn’t work on her. Nora, switch to the alternate short one. Give her this.” He pauses. Reaches into his inside pocket. Pulls out a check. Three thousand. “For your trouble. Buy yourself a new one.” The scar on my calf is three times the size of that fine line on hers. The year he stepped into Ashford Holdings, he refused to be seen wearing a hearing aid—not in front of the family, not in front of rival houses. He carried the whole winter alone rather than expose the weakness. Wouldn’t buy one for himself. I liquidated the trust my grandmother left me. Placed the order for the implantable Phonak Lyric. To hand it to him myself, I drove up from Newport overnight. Ninety-five was frozen through. My car went into the guardrail. My right calf was pinned by the crumpled door. Fourteen stitches. That night, in the corridor at Mount Auburn, he held my leg and cried. Swore that from that day forward every inch of Ashford ground would carry my name on it. That on our wedding day he’d let all of Boston see Julian Ashford’s wife in the longest, most exquisite gown the city had ever laid eyes on. Three years later, he no longer remembers the scar on my leg. I take the check. The associate leads Sienna into the fitting room. Julian watches the curtain fall. Turns. Pats my shoulder. “You’re the best, Nora. Nobody handles things the way you do.” I smile at him. Open my phone. Pull up the licensing file on the customs pipeline registered to Ashford Holdings. Three patents. All in my individual name. Expiration: 9 a.m. tomorrow. I don’t renew. Three termination notices. Signed one at a time. Sent to Ashford Holdings legal. CC’d to Julian’s personal assistant. Julian is outside the fitting-room curtain. He doesn’t hear the send tone. Sienna walks out of the fitting room in my reception gown. Train sweeping the floor. Embroidery catching the light. Julian looks at her. His eyes light. “Beautiful.” He has never said that word to me. Not once. I save every delivery receipt to a folder. New folder. I name it. T-minus 2 days.

Wedding rehearsal. The Breakers, main ballroom. Sound system running at half power. Julian gets halfway down the aisle and stops. Palm pressed to his right ear. The officiant calls him under the floral arch. He shakes his head. “Too loud. I can’t hold it here.” Sienna rises from the first row. Walks up to him. Reaches into her Louis Vuitton pouch and produces a pair of custom silicone earplugs. She rises on her toes. Julian leans down. Lets her fit them in. They meet each other’s eyes. Both smile. The guards on either side of the hall stare straight ahead. They stopped registering intimacy between the Don and Sienna a long time ago. Music. My cue. Julian, earplugs in, is watching Sienna’s hem. She’s standing too close to the dais step. His eyes stay on her shoes. He’s afraid she’ll trip. I stop in front of him. He doesn’t lift his head once. “Julian.” Nothing. Louder. “Julian.” Still nothing. Sienna reaches over. Taps his elbow. He finally lifts his eyes. Reaches for my hand. His fingers barely brush mine before his gaze slides past my shoulder to the teleprompter. He hasn’t prepared a single line for the ceremony. I pull my hand back. “We can skip this part.” Julian assumes I’m overheated. He exhales. “Good. We’ll run it tomorrow.” I step aside. Sit down on one of the ballroom chairs. Open my work email. Three years ago, when Julian was courting me, I’d just finished Harvard Law. He told me the women of the Ashford house don’t work. I didn’t agree. Three years on, I’ve made senior associate at Cravath. And, on a consultant basis, I’ve built out—on three patents in my own name—the customs pipeline that turns Ashford Holdings’ black books into clean ones. He doesn’t know. He thinks he’s the one keeping me. I send my resignation to Karen in HR. Effective tomorrow. Rehearsal ends. The planner puts the ring box in my hand. A pair. Both GIA-certified loose stones. Four months. Five cities—Manhattan Tiffany flagship, Chestnut Hill, Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, Miami—one stone at a time under the loupe. Sienna leans in for a look. She slips her own left ring finger into the smaller band. Just testing the fit. Julian picks up the smaller ring. Grabs Sienna’s hand. Slides it on. “Let’s see if it fits.” The ring catches at the second knuckle. Sienna’s finger is thicker than mine. Won’t go on. Won’t come off. The joint starts going purple. Julian panics. Plunges her hand into ice water. Works it back and forth. Sienna’s eyes rim red. The joint shifts from purple to blue. Julian raises a hand toward the back of the hall. Two capos step out of the shadows. The one in front carries a small black leather case—the kit the family uses for jewelry maintenance. Rings, cufflinks, tie bars. The capo drops to one knee in front of Sienna. Looks up at Julian. Julian nods. The case opens. A full miniature jeweler’s set, arranged by size. He selects a jeweler’s ring cutter. The jaws thin as a blade. The jaws bite in against the inside of the band. Metal on metal. A millimeter at a time. Sienna trembles. Julian cups her wrist with one hand, presses her shoulder down with the other. His voice pitched low. “Look at me. Don’t make a sound. There are family men here.” Thirty seconds. The band hits the floor in two pieces. The capo rises. Gathers both halves. Extends them to Julian with the deference the position calls for. Julian takes them. Doesn’t look. Sets them on the chair beside him. He’s already checking Sienna’s finger for broken skin. Turns to me over his shoulder. “What size did you pick, Nora. Too narrow. If you hadn’t insisted on that cut, her finger wouldn’t have caught.” “Whatever. Get a plain band tomorrow. I don’t want the other families laughing at us.” That center stone. I spent four months with a loupe on it, under every angle of light. The day we chose it, he held my hand and said the stone was the anchor of our marriage. No flaw permitted. I pry the center stone off the setting. Drop it in my clutch. Nine that night I call a private buyer in the 47th Street diamond district. Someone I’d cleared through diligence for a Cravath client three years ago. He verifies the GIA number. Sixty-three thousand. Cash. I take it. Then I log into our joint Chase account. Every dollar I put in for the wedding. Deposit. Retainer. Fitting fees. All mine. Not one dollar from the Ashford family—Julian said family funds went through a separate channel, that these “personal expenses” would be squared up “later, in one shot.” I move every line back to my own name. Joint balance: $0.00. Julian’s bandaging Sienna’s finger while the last transfer clears. Careful. Pressing the gauze flat so no water gets in when she showers. I close my phone. Look at the two halves of the band on the floor. Nice setwork. Not worth anything now.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260804JH9il3G6j5 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni714372”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

Three years long-distance, and the shared calendar between me and my boyfriend Evan turned out to be a record of his life with his assistant, his junior colleague Sage. I’m his girlfriend—the real one—and if I wanted to see him, I had to submit a booking request to Sage in advance. Anniversary dinner? Denied. Birthday celebration for me? Denied. Even when I was running a fever of 102, I typed “I want to see you” into the calendar, and Sage deleted it outright. When I asked Evan about it, all he said was: “Sage manages my time for me. Don’t drag me down with trivial things.” Later he took first place in the national competition. I stood in the audience clutching a cake I’d carried across seven hours of travel, and I heard him laugh into the microphone: “Thank God for Sage. She shielded me from every unnecessary distraction.” After the ceremony, he finally saw me. His brow furrowed. “What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you not to bother me during the competition?” Sage took the trophy from him and turned to me, her voice gentle. “Sweetheart, truly loving someone means clearing the path for their future, not monopolizing their time.” I nodded, and swallowed back the congratulations I’d rehearsed for weeks. If he thought I was a distraction, a drain on his time, then I would step out of his future entirely. … I stood in the shadows of the backstage corridor, still holding the cake, its frosting beginning to slump. Seven hours on a long-distance bus, two transfers—just so he could take a single bite. “Evan, just one bite. After that, I promise I won’t make a scene.” That familiar weariness surfaced in his eyes, the look of a man enduring a difficult child. “I have to watch my sugar before the ceremony, and there’s a media interview afterward. You rode seven hours on a bus just to force cake down my throat?” I said nothing more. I turned and went back to the motel. That night I opened the settings page of our shared calendar. The cursor hovered over the “Leave Shared Calendar” button. I paused for two seconds, then clicked. A confirmation box popped up: “This action will permanently sever your calendar link with Evan Chen. Continue?” “Continue.” The moment the screen refreshed, the hotel door swung open. Evan walked in, glanced at the untouched cake box on the table, adjusted his tie knot, and said casually: “You haven’t left yet? I guess you missed the last bus.” I pushed the plastic knife back down into the box. “I rebooked. Leaving tomorrow morning.” Sage followed him in, set the trophy carefully on the windowsill, her smile pitched just right. “Don’t take it the wrong way, Lena. The committee added a last-minute interview. Evan’s phone has been with me all day—there was no way to tell you in advance.” “It’s fine.” I closed the cake box. “I’ve booked another hotel.” Evan frowned, reached out and touched the back of my hand. His voice softened. “Your hand’s freezing. Why go to all that trouble? Take the suite tonight—Sage in the outer room, you in the inner, I’ll crash with the guys.” That line, once, would have been enough to convince me he still cared about propriety. But Sage had already unzipped a suitcase and pulled a set of men’s pajamas from an inner pocket, handing them over with practiced ease. “Your stomach meds are with me too. Take them now, so you don’t wake up hurting in the middle of the night.” Evan took the water glass and tipped the pill back. “Good thing you remember.” I lowered my eyes to the five hand-drawn sun symbols on the cake box. That was my private mark, one I’d designed back in my meteorology research days. Junior year, he’d said he would draw me a sun for every year we survived apart. The fifth—he’d never gotten around to it. Sage leaned over to look. “The little cloud is cute. The colors are a bit faded, though. Lena, Evan can’t eat dairy cream anymore—it makes him drowsy. Let me cut him a small slice.” “No need.” I lifted the box. “If he won’t eat it, throw it out.” Evan caught my wrist. His grip wasn’t tight, but I couldn’t move. “Lena, don’t be petty. Sage is taking care of me. Do you have to twist every kind gesture into something ugly?” “Then take a bite.” Sage let out a soft sigh and picked up the plastic knife. “I’ll have some for him. That way your effort isn’t wasted.” She sliced through the fifth sun. Cream smeared across the base of the trophy. Evan pulled out a tissue and wiped her fingers first. The pressure on my wrist suddenly eased. He let me go, his voice smoothing out. “Be good. Once things settle down, I’ll make up the anniversary. All right?” “When?” “We’ll figure it out later.” I pulled up my own work calendar and, right in front of him, deleted next month’s birthday reminder. Then I deleted the ticket-purchase date for our New Year’s Eve trip. He saw it. All he did was rub his temple. “Don’t threaten me with deleted reminders. Isn’t that a little juvenile?” I didn’t explain. I picked up the cake and walked to the door. Sage suddenly called after me. “Lena, did you leave the shared calendar? The admin panel just flagged an unlink request.” Evan’s hand paused around the water glass. He didn’t ask me why. He just looked at Sage. “Don’t approve it yet. Give her a three-day cooling-off period.” As Sage tapped at her phone, I caught sight of one of her own blue entries still on the screen. Tomorrow night, nine o’clock. The title was a single word. Replace.

I reached out and stopped the elevator door as it began to close. “Sage, what are you replacing tomorrow night at nine?” She blinked, then flipped her phone face-down in her palm. “Just a system task. Do you really need to look up competition terminology, Lena?” Evan stood at the end of the hallway. His tone cooled several degrees. “Tomorrow is the results conference. We have to swap out the pitch files. Lena, stop reading personal grievances into everything.” I released the elevator door. “Fine.” The next afternoon, my supervisor called me into the conference hall. “Your urban rainfall prediction model was added to the demonstration lineup at the last minute. The original author’s seat is in the front row. Go grab your credentials.” I froze for two seconds. That model had taken me two years of overnight work to complete. Evan had borrowed it once to optimize a competition algorithm. He had promised to display only the joint module, never to touch my byline. But when the screen lit up, the cover page displayed two names in bold: Evan Chen and Sage Wang. The moderator smiled into the microphone. “Our two young researchers have integrated a meteorological model into a traffic scheduling system. I hear even a shared calendar served as inspiration?” Sage lifted the mic and answered with polished modesty. “It was mainly Evan’s idea. I just helped him organize his day-to-day data. The scattered records weren’t technically sophisticated, but they did offer a small spark.” Someone nearby murmured: “I hear his girlfriend studies meteorology too. Probably just logs weather for him.” “Three years long-distance—how could she possibly keep up with his project? Personal assistant, at best.” My supervisor’s head snapped toward me. “Isn’t the original model documentation yours?” I didn’t answer. Evan had already seen me. His eyes lingered for a moment, then slid away, and he went on explaining a set of unique sun-coded parameters in the model. During the Q&A, I raised my hand. “Why is the fifth code group missing?” Evan tapped the presenter’s remote in his hand, his expression steady. “The early sample data had limited value. We ran a cleaning pass.” “And who authorized you to clean it?” The hall went quiet. Sage was the first to laugh. “Perhaps you’re not familiar with collaboration protocols. Evan is the project lead—he certainly has the authority to remove low-value data. No need to hold everyone up over an old record.” Evan looked at me, his voice lowered. “Lena. Sit down. We’ll talk after this is over.” “What about the original model’s byline?” He tapped the remote lightly. “Your model didn’t pass independent review. Adding your name prematurely would compromise the judging. Once the project stabilizes, I’ll append a supplementary statement. Don’t make a scene in front of everyone.” My supervisor rose to his feet. “She submitted a complete validation report. I signed off on it myself!” Sage’s face flickered, but she recovered with a smile. “Professor, there were too many file versions. I may have missed one in the sorting. Evan’s been working himself to the bone lately. Since Lena’s already come all this way, why force him to handle domestic matters onstage?” Evan didn’t so much as glance at the report. He simply gestured to the staff. “Continue.” The screen switched to the acknowledgments page. Advisors. Teammates. Partner laboratories. Name after name lit up. Every one but mine. When the applause broke out, I unpinned the “Original Author” badge from my chest and set it on the empty seat. Evan caught up with me backstage and closed his fingers around my wrist. “Have you made enough of a mess today? The byline is only postponed—we’re not cutting you out.” “That ‘replacement’ scheduled for nine tomorrow night. Is that when you cut me out of the project?” He was silent for a moment, then reached out to straighten my crooked collar. “It’s a temporary measure to avoid impropriety. You’re my girlfriend. If your name goes on the paper, the review board will suspect a conflict of interest. Sage is just a collaborator—she fits better.” I looked at him. “So a girlfriend is less above suspicion than a colleague.” “Don’t be difficult.” He released my hand. “Once I secure the graduate school recommendation, what you gain from this won’t be any less than a byline. I promise.” Sage poked her head through the door. “Evan, the school wants promotional photos. Only core members are permitted. Lena, since you’re not on the team, please step aside for a bit.”

The staff pulled up a rope barrier and cordoned me off outside the frame. Before the shutter clicked, I caught sight of the sun-shaped pin on Evan’s chest. That was mine. I stepped over the rope and pointed at his lapel. “Give me back the pin.” Evan glanced down. He didn’t remove it. “I borrowed it to hold my tie. You’ll get it after the shot. Don’t keep everyone waiting.” Sage looped her arm through his to adjust their pose. “Lena, it’s just a little pin. Today is Evan’s big moment. Let him have it.” The photographer waved his hand impatiently. “Non-essential personnel, step back. Girlfriends included—don’t disrupt the promotional workflow.” My supervisor moved forward, but the vice dean intercepted him. “Young people’s collaboration disputes should be settled privately. The school just won a gold medal. Let’s not make a spectacle.” I thought that, at the very least, my supervisor would speak up for me. Instead he looked at Evan on the stage, then quietly tucked the validation report back into its folder. “Lena, sit tight for tonight. I’ll ask him for a proper explanation.” Sage beckoned the group over with a smile. “Everyone, come closer. Evan doesn’t like wasting time.” Evan stood at the center. The pin caught the flashbulbs and gleamed. The number on the back read 442. That was the commemorative pin the meteorological bureau had given me after I completed my first solo severe storm warning. Evan had once threaded it onto a red cord and said that when our long-distance days ended, he’d hang it beside the shared calendar in our new home. After the photos, he unpinned it and held it out. “Hold on to this. Try not to lose things all the time.” I opened my palm to take it. The clasp snapped with an audible click. The body of the pin dropped onto the thick carpet. I didn’t bend to pick it up. I only stooped for the broken metal clasp and slipped it into my pocket. “If it’s broken, I don’t want it.” Sage covered her mouth. “Maybe I fastened it too tight. Don’t be upset, Lena. I’ll buy you a new one.” “Can you buy back the serial number?” Evan frowned, bent to retrieve the fallen pin body himself, and closed it in his fist. His voice stayed calm. “Objects are just objects. If you insist on measuring a relationship by an old pin, the only person you’ll hurt is yourself.” I slipped my hand into my pocket and felt the broken clasp. “Is the model just an object too?” “That’s different.” He tapped his phone awake. “The school’s celebration dinner is tonight. Go back to the motel first. I’ll have a driver take you. Don’t sleep through your bus tomorrow.” “I was invited too.” Sage flipped open the guest list. Her fingertip stopped at the bottom. “There’s only one seat for an original-author observer, but given the conflict of interest, the school has given it to an external professor. If you go, Lena, there won’t be a seat for you.” At the restaurant entrance, the invited guests signed in one by one. The receptionist was an upperclassman from my undergraduate days. When she saw me, her eyes slid away. “Lena, please don’t put me in this position. The guest list was confirmed by Evan personally. Your supervisor was just hauled off by the vice dean to drink with the investors. There’s no one here who can stand up for you tonight.” Inside, someone was riling up the crowd. “The gold-medal duo—sit together, take a photo!” “Evan, tell us. Who couldn’t you have made it without on the road to success?” Evan lifted his glass and answered mildly. “I couldn’t have made it without someone who can keep pace.” My chest tightened. Through the table’s laughter, Sage pushed his stomach medication toward him. “Guess I’ll grit my teeth and keep up for a few more years, so you don’t get dragged down by unnecessary emotions.” The glass doors slid shut. The upperclassman pressed a folder into my hands and whispered: “This is the removal notice. I shouldn’t be showing it to you, but the dates inside are wrong.” I waited until I reached the far end of the hallway before I opened it. The document stated that, due to my prolonged absence from the project, I voluntarily surrendered my byline and any subsequent rights. The signature line was blank, but attached was an exported record from the shared calendar. Blue entries stretched back two years, saturating every day. My yellow entries had been categorized as invalid data. And the deletion timestamp wasn’t the day of the anniversary— Two years ago, on September 17th, the night Evan first handed his account permissions to Sage, the replacement plan had already been drafted in the system. At the bottom of the document was a single line of small print: “To take public effect at 9:00 PM tomorrow evening, pending confirmation from the original author.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260804UdgnJD1YDL 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni091112”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

The night before my wedding, someone slipped a hotel VIP keycard under my door. The room number was the same one where Sean Locke proposed to me three years ago. I thought it was his little pre-wedding surprise. Something romantic. So I went. But when I pushed the door open, the heavy scent of arousal hit my nose — and I saw him tangled in the bed with another woman. Only after he finished did he lazily push the woman out of his arms. He lit a cigarette. Through the smoke, he smiled — careless, almost bored. “Nothing dramatic. I’m just tired of hiding it. Better you find out now — saves me the talk after the wedding.” “Relax. You’re still my only Mrs. Locke.” “You’ve been mine for ten years, Ivy. In those ten years, you’ve made enemies with half the Families in this city. You don’t marry me? No one else in this life is gonna take you.” “So tomorrow, everything goes as planned. Only —” “You get the wedding. She gets the marriage license.” He thought I’d at least ask why. I didn’t. I quietly slid the engagement ring off my finger, set it down, and walked out. The wedding was at St. Cecilia’s Cathedral. East side of the city. “She’s here! The bride is finally here!” Cameras lined the hotel entrance. Flashes went off before I even stepped out. “Miss Kingsley! How are you feeling on your big day?” “Miss Kingsley! Any comment on the wedding of the century?” I said nothing. My bodyguards cleared a path. I slid into the black car. Sean stood on the steps in his white tuxedo, wearing the smile of a man who had everything under control. He’d called me that morning. Said he was worn out from last night. Seven rounds. He needed to sleep. Said he couldn’t come pick me up. Because he was certain I’d show up anyway. Chase Bennett — Sean’s underboss — was the first to whistle. “She actually came, Don Locke.” “Only the Boss could pull this off. Screws another woman the night before, and the bride still walks in wearing white. That’s what we call training her right.” Jordan Wells, one of the Wells Family’s boys down from Boston for the wedding, raised his glass toward Sean with a smirk. “Respect, Don Locke. Anyone else would’ve been wrecked after a night like that. You’re still standing here in the tux. That’s a man.” The others laughed along. Sean’s lips barely moved. “Ivy’s been mine for ten years.” His voice was flat. “Besides marrying me, who’d take her?” He glanced down at his hand. At the empty ring finger on mine. “She’s throwing a fit. It’s fine.” He paused. “She’ll still walk down that aisle. She’ll still put her hand in mine.” Chase gave a thumbs up. The car door opened. I stepped out. Sunlight caught the dress. A hundred cameras clicked at once. Something almost like awe flickered across Sean’s face. “Damn.” Under his breath. “My wife looks beautiful in a wedding dress.” He started toward me. Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. His mouth twitched up. He stepped away to answer. “What is it? Didn’t I tell you to call later?” A soft, syrupy voice came through the speaker. “Sean-baby. I’m flying out this afternoon. I booked City Hall — ten minutes from now. Come sign it with me? I don’t wanna leave without the paper.” “Ten minutes?” Sean laughed low. “In a rush?” … He hung up. Chase leaned in. “Who was that?” “Sadie.” Sean pocketed the phone. His eyes were bright. “She’s flying out this afternoon. Won’t leave without signing. You know how she gets.” Chase raised a brow. “And the wedding —?” “Relax. Ceremony runs an hour or two. City Hall’s ten minutes. In and out. That girl’s a handful — if I don’t handle her right, she’ll cry at the airport. I’m not dealing with that.” Sean walked over. Slid an arm around my shoulders. Signaled the photographer. “One quick shot. For the memory book.” Click. He checked his watch. “Alright. That’s it. I gotta go, or I’ll miss the appointment.” He turned and strode toward the other car. “Sean Locke!” I stood where I was and called out to him. His steps paused. He turned back to look at me. That same careless, everything-under-control look in his eyes. “If you walk out today,” I said, one word at a time, “I’m changing the groom for this wedding.”

He froze for a second. Then he laughed — low and dismissive, like I’d told him a bad joke. “Change grooms? Where are you gonna find one? You think life is a TV drama?” “Everyone in New York knows you’re mine.” He shrugged. “But sure — if you actually manage to find a man who dares marry you, I’ll allow it.” He pulled the car door open, then tossed a lazy line over his shoulder: “Don’t act out, baby. Be good. Wait for me. Whatever wild stuff you’re thinking, I know how to handle it. Yeah?” The groomsmen behind him traded uneasy looks. Chase jogged two steps after him. “Boss — you’re really leaving?” “Cover for me. I’m not gone forever.” Sean shut the car door. There was a rush in his voice now. “That girl’s impossible. I’m not making it worse for myself.” The engine turned over. The car peeled off. I stood there. The wind caught the hem of my dress. The photographer lowered his camera. Didn’t know where to look. Nobody spoke. I looked down at my left hand. Empty ring finger. Slowly, the corner of my mouth curved up. Fine, Sean. Go. Go get your paper. But this million-dollar wedding of the century — I’ll gladly take it. I lifted the skirt of my dress and walked up the steps. The cathedral doors opened. Guests were already seated. Officiant at the altar. Organist playing the wedding march. Everything was perfect. Except there was no groom. Chase caught up in the aisle, forcing on a smile. “Ivy — the Boss had something urgent. He’ll be back in no time. Just sit for a minute.” Jordan appeared at my other elbow, playing along. “Yeah, yeah. Don Locke always knows what he’s doing. It’s your big day. He’ll be here.” “For real. The Boss has never dropped the ball on anything big.” I glanced at the clock above the altar. Ten-forty. “Fine,” I said quietly. “I’ll wait.” Chase exhaled like he’d just dodged a bullet. Snapped his fingers at a waiter to bring me water. I sat down in the front pew. I let them think I was waiting for Sean. But who I was really waiting for — that’s none of their business. … This wedding had been three months in the making. Every important name on Sean’s side was in the pews. Every capo. Every allied Family. Every associate who mattered. My eyes moved slowly, taking in every detail. The wall of white roses by the tall windows. The crystal beads dripping from the arched ceiling. Even the guest cards on the seats — the font had been custom-designed just for tonight. That’s Sean Locke for you. When he does a thing, he does it all the way. Chased me that way. Planned this wedding that way. He turned it into the wedding of the century. The kind every woman dreams of. And he cheated on me the same way. No room to walk it back. No explanation offered. In his head, loving me and destroying me had never once been in conflict. And my only option was to accept it. … Back in the bridal suite, Harper — my best friend, flown in all the way from Sydney to be my maid of honor — held up my train, seething. “Is Sean Locke out of his mind? On your wedding day, he runs off to sign paperwork with another woman? Did somebody drop him on his head?” She dropped down beside me and yanked at her own bridesmaid dress. “I thought he was just running his mouth. Fine, he wants a mistress — but did he really have to pick *today*?” “When you two were planning this thing, he flew across the state just to find the right florist. When you tried on your dress, his eyes went red before yours did.” “I was so jealous of you back then, I picked a fight with my own boyfriend just because he couldn’t compare.” She paused. Her voice dropped. “Who would’ve guessed — one turn of the head, and he does *this*?” I didn’t answer. I was staring at my phone. Sadie had just posted a new story. The photo was of a hotel floor — men’s dress shirt and a woman’s lingerie tossed on the carpet. Caption: “Someone said he’d only stay ten minutes… and now he can’t bear to leave~” She’d tagged the location on purpose. It wasn’t City Hall. A mutual friend had already commented: “Sadie, girl, are you trying to piss somebody off?” Sadie’s reply: “Whoever’s waiting at a wedding in her dress, I guess. 😉” I screenshotted it without a change in expression. “Ivy — please. Stop waiting for him.” Harper snatched the phone from my hand. “*Look* at these people!” “You dropped out of London and flew home for that man. Do you remember how furious your parents were?” “Back then, Sean Locke was nothing. A nobody with no name, no crew, no protection. And you had the guts to bet ten years against your family for him. And now you’ve lost everything.” “If you hadn’t burned every favor your father’s name carried, quietly pulling strings behind the scenes, opening doors with the Families that would never have opened for him — you think he’d be sitting on a Don’s chair today?” “And he turns around and gets cozy with some capo’s daughter!” “I don’t know how he hid it this long. He faked it right up to the night before the wedding — that’s when he decides to let you catch him at another woman’s hotel!” “Ivy — stop waiting for him. It’s time you lived for yourself.” “Harper.” I finally spoke. “Thank you for being here today.” “After the wedding, I’ll go home. I’ll face my parents. I’ll admit I lost.” A bet’s a bet. Time to pay up. Today was the day I paid.

I calmed Harper down, then calmed myself. I walked to the balcony at the end of the corridor to get some air. Just as I reached for the door, I heard the groomsmen’s voices from the other side. Hiding out here, smoking. “So — the Boss really isn’t coming back?” “He says Sadie’s glued to him. Can’t peel her off. Told us to keep stalling.” “How long you think Ivy’s gonna sit there and eat it? Look at her — dress on, aisle ready, groom gone. Didn’t even blink.” “A wife like that.” Jordan whistled low. “The Boss really doesn’t know how good he’s got it.” “The Boss ain’t thinking straight right now. That Sadie’s got him strung out. He’s cooked.” The others laughed. Then someone dialed a video call. “Boss — finally! Ivy’s still waiting out there, man. It’s not a good look if you don’t come back.” A woman’s soft, breathy sound came through the phone. “You can’t see I’m busy?” Sean’s voice came through — irritated, thick with sex. “Not coming. Just keep the guests entertained, that’s all I need.” “Alright, alright. You do you, Boss.” Chase grinned. “Ivy’s easy to smooth over anyway —” Before he could finish, I pushed the balcony door open. Every smile in the room froze. Chase shoved the phone behind his back. “Iv— Ivy…” I looked at them, face flat. “The wedding starts in three minutes.” “What are you doing out here?” “Three hundred guests in there. You want them sitting there waiting? Or would you rather they sit and watch a joke?” The moment I finished, someone snorted a laugh. “Ivy, c’mon.” Jordan waved his hand, still snickering. “Three minutes? Not enough. Our Boss doesn’t finish that fast. He can’t make it —” “Enough.” I cut him off. Calm. Then turned and walked away. Chase remembered the video call was still open. He glanced at the screen. “Boss — Ivy says the ceremony starts in three minutes. Move.” From the phone came Sean’s low, lazy laugh — the sound of a man not done with what he was doing. “Three minutes?” “Does my wife misunderstand my stamina?” The woman giggled through the speaker and murmured something sweet. “Boss —” Chase asked quietly. “So… what do we —” Silence for two seconds. Then Sean’s voice, impatient: “Cover for me. Hold the room down. I’ll come when I’m done here.” When he said done, the woman on his end made another soft sound. Chase hung up fast. They stubbed out their cigarettes, straightened their suits, and filed out behind me. Jordan caught up beside me. Lowered his voice. “Ivy, look — you’ve been with the Boss ten years. We all know he’s got you in his heart. It’s just… guys are guys. Nature of the life, you know?” I didn’t look at him. Didn’t answer. The truth was — until yesterday, I hadn’t wanted to believe it either. I hadn’t wanted to believe Sean Locke would fall for a new toy. Sadie was the only daughter of an old associate — a made man whose gun-running routes had been feeding Sean’s operations for years. Fresh out of college. Ever since he met her at a Family celebration, his eyes had gone different. Back then I told myself I was imagining it. Ten years together — if I didn’t know him, I wouldn’t have lasted this long. So the strange silences. The late-night messages he stopped answering. I let myself buy every excuse. I refused to believe that after everything — after clawing our way back from ashes — we’d lose to a girl fresh out of school. But he got impatient with hiding it. He stopped covering his tracks. Started letting me catch him on purpose. Then dressed the betrayal up like a favor: “A man like me — you really thought I’d only have one woman? But my heart is yours. Nobody sits in Mrs. Locke’s chair but you.” Expecting me to be grateful. Harper was right. He was too good at faking it. Faked it right up to the night before the wedding, and only then tore the mask off — using the cruelest possible way to make me see, hear, feel exactly what I meant to him. “Ivy — walk slow on the aisle, yeah? We got your back from behind.” “Yeah. The Boss said he’ll be here soon. Just walk through it up front.” They thought I’d walk the aisle alone. They thought I’d stand at the altar in white, smile at the empty groom’s spot, and say I do to no one. That was the script Sean Locke left for me. … The groomsmen stood on either side of me, still wearing that same everything-under-control smile. The cathedral doors slowly opened. Backlit in the doorway stood a man. And every smile in the room froze.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260804rF4POYaf19 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni462778”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix