Category: English

Tonight is my eighteenth mating ceremony under the full moon, and once again every wolf in the pack files out behind my adopted sister. My father’s mindlink slams into my head, sharp and impatient. “Ivy’s wolf is whining again. She can’t shift. We’re taking her to the healer. Call it off. You know the drill.” Then Rhea, my maid of honor, my best friend since we were pups, cuts into the link with a scoff. “Selene. Your mate bond is not more important than Ivy’s wolf. She almost dropped on the ceremonial grounds and you didn’t even come check. When did you get this cold?” And my chosen mate doesn’t even open the bond. He just fires one flat line down the mindlink: Ceremony’s off. Talk later. Then he slams the bond shut on his end. My head goes dead silent. Eighteen times he’s used that same line. A cold laugh comes out of me and I feel nothing at all. Eighteen times. Enough. I’m done crawling for scraps from wolves who already made their choice. Whatever comes next, my wolf and I handle alone. I climb the moonstone altar. The whole platform is buried in wolfsbloom violets. Ivy’s favorite. Never mine. I lift the ceremonial horn. “I’m sorry. Tonight’s mating ceremony is called off.” Not a single wolf in the crowd looks surprised. Their mindlinks are wide open. They think I can’t hear them. I can. “Ha. Called it. Not one of these ceremonies has ever made it to the mating bite. If I were her I wouldn’t have dragged myself out under this moon.” “You seen the way the whole Vane pack fawns over the little one? Please. If I were Selene I’d hand him over and bolt for the border. At least keep my throat in one piece on the way out.” “You really don’t know? The elders swear she’s Silver-Born. Every pack she sets foot in gets fat and happy. Word is every time Alpha Kaelen even thinks about ditching her, Silverpine wakes up to dead livestock and empty snare lines by morning.” “Oh, he’s tested it. More than once. Lost half his hunting grounds each round. Last winter three of his warriors got shredded by rogues right at the border. That’s the only reason his ass is still standing next to hers.” I walk off the altar under their stares. My lips pull into something that’s not a smile. This time it won’t stop at a dying territory. I shift out of my ceremonial robe on the walk back and pull on plain clothes at the Vane pack house. I’m packing a bag when the front doors bang open. Ivy at the center of a parade. Every wolf laughing and fussing over her like she just walked off a battlefield. The second they spot me, every smile drops. Kaelen’s eyes go pitch black. His Alpha aura fills the whole hall and every wolf under his rank drops their gaze. Except me. “Selene. You called the ceremony off in front of every neighboring pack and didn’t give a reason? Now every wolf between the mountains and the coast is going to blame Ivy again. That’s on you.” My father scoffs and won’t even look at me. “You dropped the ball this time, Selene. Every other ceremony you handled the packs yourself and we never had to think about it. Send word to the border packs. Tell them you were the one being difficult.” Rhea is already on her mindlink. “I’ll get word to every pack from here to the coast. If Selene sends a formal apology through the runners tonight, we can still save face. Push a few rogue rumors about her along the border and by next moon no one will even remember Ivy’s name.” I don’t answer any of them. I just stand there. Fine. Enough. Three days. Three days to cut every last tie and cross the Vane border for good. “Selene. Are you even listening? If you don’t fix this, I’m not promising when the next moon is.” Kaelen stops right in front of me. His voice is sharp, and his aura is pushing straight into my chest, trying to make my wolf submit. She doesn’t. She just watches him. Then Ivy finally opens her mouth, voice thin and shaking. “It’s my fault. My wolf ruined everything. Kaelen, please don’t be angry at Selene. Blame me.” “There are still a few good moons left this month. Please don’t push it back any further.” She starts coughing before she finishes. Kaelen crosses the hall and pulls her against his chest, rubbing slow circles down her back. “It’s not your fault. Don’t overthink it. Her wolf can’t survive without mine anchoring hers. Once we complete the bond, my wolf holds hers. Doesn’t matter when we mate.” The whole hall hears him. He just said, in front of every wolf in the Vane pack house, that he plans to use our mate bond to keep another female’s wolf alive. Something inside my chest goes very, very quiet. “Then you’re the one overthinking it.” Those are my first words since I walked in. Every wolf in the hall freezes. I lift the bag in my hand. “I’m leaving.” The words are barely out. The next second, a crack splits the air. My mother’s hand connects with my face and the slap echoes off every wall of the pack house.

I lick the blood off my teeth and smile at her. Her Luna aura is still crashing against my chest, trying to force my wolf to belly-up like a scolded pup. My wolf doesn’t move. Not a twitch. Not a whine. First time in eighteen moons she’s refused a Luna command from this female. My mother’s hand is still shaking. Her claws are half-out. Four thin lines of blood run down my cheek where they caught skin. “Are you done? After everything this pack has poured into you, this is what you turn into? A spoiled, ungrateful pup?” “You want to walk out? And go where? So every pack from here to the coast can howl about how the Vanes drove out their own blood? When are you going to stop shaming this bloodline, Selene? Goddess, I wish I’d never whelped you. Ivy would never pull this crap.” Blood pools inside my mouth. I swallow it. Yeah. Every other time, I would have thrown a fit. Because I didn’t get it. I didn’t get why, when Ivy shattered my father’s ancestral moon-stone with her own paw, they told the whole pack I was the one who smashed it. I didn’t get why, even after the border sentries poured their scent-memory straight into my father’s mindlink, he still swore I was the one who shoved Ivy off the cliff trail. I didn’t get how picking wolfsbloom on a morning run — the one flower that makes Ivy’s wolf sneeze her lungs out — turned me into a bully. This isn’t the first time my mother has drawn blood on me. Last time was two nights ago. Because Ivy wanted to walk down the aisle in my mating gown and I said no. She dropped on the spot. Her wolf whimpering inside her, her human body limp on the moonstone floor of the pack house. My mother slammed me into the wall and shredded my mating gown with her half-shifted claws. Six moons I’d waited on that gown. Gone in ten heartbeats. Over Ivy, my own mother and I have become almost enemies. So yeah. I used to fight back. I used to howl and beg someone, anyone, in this whole damn pack to tell me I wasn’t losing my mind. But not tonight. I’ve always been the lucky one of the Vane bloodline. The Vane pack was one bad winter away from folding when I was born. Rogues clawing at every border. Half the warriors laid out sick in the healer’s den. My father coughing black blood into the snow, wasting sickness gnawing through his wolf. The morning after I came into this world, the rogues packed up and vanished into the treeline. My father’s wasting sickness dried out overnight. The old healer said in forty moons of tending wolves she’d never seen a wolf-soul knit itself back together like that. Within one moon cycle the Vane pack had swallowed two neighboring territories and my father was the most feared Alpha on the western coast. My best friend Rhea was a scrawny, plain little she-wolf before she met me. After we ran together as pups, she grew into the kind of she-wolf every Alpha’s son at the annual meet-up couldn’t stop tracking with his eyes. She got mating offers from every pack between the mountains and the sea. Turned down every one. Became the most talked-about she-wolf on the coast. And Kaelen. He used to be nothing. A rogue. Half-starved, chased across three borders, dragging a shattered back leg the healers swore would never carry weight again. Until the night he stumbled across me at the edge of Vane territory when I was thirteen and lost in the pines, and my scent yanked him back from turning feral. I imprinted on him before I even understood what my wolf was doing. After that, everything went his way. His leg healed clean by the next full moon. He challenged an Alpha and tore his throat out in three heartbeats, no scratch on him. Built Silverpine from six rogues to eighty warriors and locked down the biggest hunting grounds on the western ridge before he turned twenty-five. For over twenty moons this pack looked at me like I was carved from silver. Kaelen treated me like I was the only she-wolf under the moon. And every single one of them got everything they ever wanted. Then Ivy walked into the Vane pack house. And every last one of them turned on me. My father’s voice goes cold. “Take everything of hers. It all belongs to this pack. She doesn’t walk out with so much as a scrap on her back.” “You want to go, Selene? Go. But nobody’s coming after you this time. I’ll send runners to every Alpha on the coast myself. Formal renouncement, howled under tonight’s moon. You won’t carry the Vane name by morning.” They don’t even let me grab a change of clothes before they shove me out the front doors of the pack house. Kaelen follows me down the steps and quietly presses something into my palm. A single carved bone token. The kind Alphas hand out to allow crossing into their territory. “A den on the far edge of Silverpine. You can hole up there. Selene, we’re done. None of us have the strength for this anymore.” “I wish I’d let you die that night in the pines and pulled Ivy out instead.” I scoff. “Then mate her.” Kaelen lets out a long, tired breath. “Don’t start. I said I’d take you as my Luna and I will. That doesn’t change.” “Ivy is a good she-wolf. A genuinely good one. I’m not going to let you talk about her like she’s some rogue mutt you toss over the border. Don’t say it again.” He turns and walks back up the steps. I drop the token on the stone and turn to leave. Ivy comes flying out and clamps a hand around my wrist. “Don’t go, Selene. It’s me. I overstepped. I wanted a mate that was never mine to want. I don’t deserve any of it.” “You stay. I’ll leave. I’ll cross the border tonight.” I know exactly what she’s doing. So I just stand there and let her cling to me and fake-cry into my sleeve. But the second she realizes I’m not going to snarl and shove her off like I always do, she gasps like her lungs quit and drops at my feet. “Ivy!” “Somebody get the healer! Ivy, sweetheart, look at me!” Every wolf in the pack house comes tearing out and swarms around her. Kaelen’s hand shoots out and closes around my throat. His eyes are wolf-yellow, half-shifted, one fang already lengthening past his lip. His Alpha aura slams into me so hard the wolves behind him drop to one knee. “You put a hand on her? You really think I won’t tear your throat out?” Turns out when you’re past the point of anger, all that’s left is a laugh. I didn’t even touch her. And somehow I’m still the one who did. “Kaelen. I hope none of you ever regret this.” My father’s voice cracks like a whip across the pack grounds. “Get her out of my sight. Silver-chained cellar. I’ll deal with her myself.”

The cellar reeks of damp stone and old blood, and the silver chains humming on the walls make my wolf shrink to the back of my chest. This is the second time they’ve locked me down here. The first time is still fresh. I’d caught Ivy sneaking into Kaelen’s den in the dead of night. Found her curled up in his bed, in nothing but his shirt, her scent smeared all over his sheets. She cried and said her wolf did it. Sleepwalking, she called it. Trauma from her rogue pup years. She didn’t know why her paws had carried her across the border into Silverpine. She just felt safe near his scent. She didn’t mean it. My parents and Kaelen swallowed every word. Kaelen even told her, all soft and gentle, that her wolf was welcome near his any time she got scared. Back then I was drunk on the mate bond. I wouldn’t let a single unmated she-wolf inside a mile of his den. No female warrior on his guard rotation. Nothing. So I shifted halfway and raked my claws across Ivy’s face. And my parents dragged me down here. Seven days. One bowl of raw scraps a day. Not enough for a wolf my size to hold her form. They didn’t unlock the silver door until my wolf was ready to eat itself alive and I choked out an apology. This time, they’re clearly not stopping at starvation. My father walks in with a switch in his hand. Kaelen follows two steps behind him. The second the switch clears the doorway, my wolf lets out a whine so sharp it rattles my ribs. Silver-soaked. The whole thing. “Thirty would’ve been fair. But Ivy begged me to go easy on you, so I’m using the switch instead of the cat-o’-claws. That means fifty.” Crack. The first strike lights my whole back on fire. Not just skin. The silver goes deeper than skin. It burns straight down into my wolf-soul and she howls inside me, clawing at the walls of my chest trying to get away from it. He hits me a dozen times. The welts split one after another. Silver starts eating into the open flesh and I can smell my own blood cooking. Every strike after that comes with a burn that goes numb and then wakes back up, over and over. I remember them saying Ivy begged for the switch. Silver-soaked. She soaked it herself, probably. Sat there dipping it and imagining every stripe on my back. “Apologize to your sister!” “Are you going to apologize or not?!” He doesn’t get the answer he wants, so he just hits harder. By fifty, my back and arms are one open wound. Skin peeled up in raw strips. Blood running down my spine, hissing where it hits the silver still burning in the cuts. My wolf has gone quiet. Not dead-quiet. Cold-quiet. I can feel her looking through my eyes at the male who fathered us, and she’s not looking away. I curl up in the corner and drag air into my lungs. My father drops the switch on the stone and walks out. His parting shot: “Stubborn to the bone.” Kaelen crouches in front of me. He doesn’t even flinch at the smell of silver-burn coming off my back. “Ivy sent salve and a clean shirt down for you. She’s never been anything but good to you, Selene. You’re her older sister. I’m about to bond her into this pack as family. We should be looking after her. Why do you have to keep making her the villain?” “Just apologize and be done with it. Stop dragging every wolf in this pack through your drama.” He shakes out the shirt Ivy sent and lays it across my raw back. The fabric touches my open wounds and my whole body locks up like I’ve been shoved into a vat of pure silver dust. The lining. She lined it with silver thread. Every fiber of it hisses against my skin. My wolf finally breaks and howls inside my chest, loud enough that I bite down on my own tongue to keep it in my head. I fold in half and drop into a ball. “Goddess, dramatic. Ivy goes white every time her wolf hurts and you don’t see her rolling around like a wounded pup.” Kaelen stands up with a look like I disgust him and walks out. I finally get my breath back. I claw the shirt off my shoulders with what’s left of my strength and shove it into the corner as far from me as I can get it. My wolf presses her nose against the inside of my ribs and I can feel her looking up at the small barred window near the ceiling. A sliver of moonlight is coming through. It lands right on the silver still burning in my back. And where the moonlight touches me, the burn goes quiet. Not healed. Just quiet. Held. My wolf lets out a long, low breath inside me. Two more moons, I tell her. Two more moons and we’re gone. She rests her chin on her paws and waits with me.

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After I slapped Vito’s mistress Gina across the face, he had my entire family committed to a psychiatric hospital. To beg him to let them go, I spent three years as Gina’s live-in nanny. And then, by accident, I stumbled onto Gina’s Instagram. In one of her videos, my father and brother were gathered around Gina and her baby, their faces glowing with a contentment and joy I had never once seen them show me. That was the moment I realized Vito had been lying to me all along. Watching the color drain from my face, he finally came clean, feigning reluctance. “Luciana, the truth is, your own family put Gina in my bed. She’s your father’s illegitimate daughter.” “Your family was never in any psychiatric hospital. These past three years, they’ve been with Gina the whole time.” “I only hid it from you because I didn’t want you to get hurt.” My eyes flooded red in an instant, my chest torn open as if by a blade. Vito went on, indulgent, self-satisfied. “Luciana, you’ve been a good girl these three years. Keep it up. Whatever compensation you want, name it.” “Although…” He gave that subtle, cruel smile of his. “Even if I offered, you probably wouldn’t want anything anyway…” I wiped my eyes, lifted my face, and smiled. “Vito. Then compensate me with a hundred million.” A husband like this, a family like this—I didn’t want any of them anymore. … Vito’s expression froze for a beat. “What did you just say?” I looked him dead in the eye, my voice shaking slightly. “If you want to compensate me, then pay me.” “A hundred million. Not a cent less.” Vito’s gaze went cold. Then he let out a scornful laugh and turned to the phone on his desk. “Gina—looks like neither of us called it right.” At some point the screen had switched to a live video feed. Gina was smiling out at me, mocking. “Luciana, we made a little bet on what you’d demand from Vito once you found out the truth.” “I bet you’d refuse the money and lose it—trash the office. Vito bet you’d use it as leverage to make him swear never to divorce you.” “As for Dad and our brother—one bet you’d demand Vito send me away, the other bet you’d hurt yourself to force him to give in.” She turned the camera. Dad was cradling Gina’s baby, positively glowing. The instant he saw me, every trace of that warmth vanished. “Luciana, I honestly never thought you’d have the gall to ask Vito for money!” “Have we ever let you go hungry a day in your life? Since when did you become such a gold-digger? What’s the difference between you and any common whore off the street!” My brother stroked Gina’s hair, his eyes soft and doting—then the second he turned to the camera, that indifference locked back into place. “Luciana, I get that you’re upset.” “If you need money, I’ll wire you some. But you have no right asking Vito for it.” “Gina and Vito are in love. They don’t owe you a thing.” “Is that so?” I cut him off, my eyes stinging red. “Steal my husband. Steal my father and my brother. Destroy my marriage and my family.” “Play me for three years. Trick me into being her nanny for three years.” “And you’re telling me none of you owe me anything?” My brother frowned. “Luciana, don’t twist it into something ugly.” “None of us meant to deceive you. You’ve just always been stubborn, ever since you were little. If we hadn’t done it this way, how were you ever going to accept Gina?” “Gina’s been struggling since the birth. We were worried about postpartum depression, so we thought up this little bet as a joke to lift her spirits. Don’t take it to heart.” I twisted the corner of my mouth into a smile. “Fine, then. Just pay me.” “Dad gives me fifty million, brother gives me thirty. I’ll even keep playing along and keep being Gina’s nanny. How about it?” My brother’s face went dark as thunder. “Luciana, how much longer are you going to keep this up?” I laughed, cold. “It’s pocket change. Don’t tell me the Romano and Cortina families combined can’t scrape that together?” “Enough.” “You want money? Fine. You’ll have it.” Vito shot me a look and pulled a document from the drawer. “Gina’s had the baby. My child is not going to be a bastard. Sign these divorce papers and the hundred million hits your account today.” I stared at those few thin pages. Not a second’s hesitation. I grabbed the pen and signed my name.

Vito’s expression twisted into something complicated as he looked at me. “Do you really care about money that much? You never used to be this kind of person…” I swallowed the pain slicing through my chest and pushed out a careless, indifferent smile. “If it isn’t money, what else have you got to give me?” He stared at me, those blue eyes flashing with an arrogance he couldn’t quite hide. “Don’t you love me? You could beg me not to go through with the divorce. I might just be gracious enough to accept.” “Say the word right now, and I’ll tear this agreement up.” Beg him? I bit down hard on my lip, remembering those first months after I’d discovered him and Gina. I had begged him. Countless times. I had slit my wrists to force him to come home. And all the blood I bled onto that floor had earned me one line: “Don’t do that again. Gina can’t stand the sight of blood.” I looked at him, calm now, my voice edged with contempt. “How do I know this isn’t just another one of your little bets? Another game to watch me humiliate myself?” I laughed bitterly, my throat raw. “Vito. Stop testing me.” “Haven’t you toyed with me enough these past three years?” The tears I’d been holding back for so long finally spilled over. Vito reached up on instinct to wipe them away. He sighed, and there was something almost like guilt in his eyes. “Gina is carrying my child, after all. She’s young. A little willful. As her older sister, you could stand to indulge her a bit.” “Don’t worry. The lady of the Romano family will still be you. Marrying Gina is just so my first child isn’t born a bastard.” He paused, then added, as though not entirely reassured: “You’ll still get the hundred million. Take the money, go enjoy yourself for a while. Once I’ve sorted everything out here, we’ll remarry.” “That should make you happy, no?” I lifted my face, gave him a soft smile, and hummed my assent. “Then book me a flight to Switzerland. We always said we’d go see the lakes under the Alps together.” He let out a relieved breath and pulled me tight against him. “Alright.” “You go on ahead. Once things are settled here, I’ll come join you.” “Luciana. Wait for me.” I rested my head against his shoulder and said nothing more. But I knew, in my heart, I would never wait for him again. Once he was satisfied I’d surrendered, Vito spoke again. “Give me the villa keys. Move out for now.” “Gina’s going to move in. You know how fragile she’s been since the birth—clean the place out properly, don’t leave anything behind that might upset her.” “The villa’s old anyway, we’ve lived there for years. Don’t hold it against her.” He cleared his throat and produced a set of keys and a property deed from the drawer. “I’ve already bought you a new villa in Rose Valley. Move your things over there first.” I said nothing, but my mind drifted to the day we’d first bought that villa. We had designed the layout together, argued for hours over the color of the bed curtains and the painting for the entryway. We’d agreed to leave two children’s rooms—one pink, one blue. He’d said it was our love nest. Carved a nameplate himself and hung it by the door: *Luciana’s Home*. Later, he spent his nights tangled up with Gina in his office until sunrise, while I lay alone on the floor of that empty villa after a fall, losing our baby, with no one to help me up. I smiled and placed the keys in his palm. “It’s fine.” “A new one is fine, too.” From here on, everything I owned would be new. Not just the house. After I left the Romano Building, I made one last stop at the psychiatric hospital. Over the past three years, I had pushed open that ward door countless times, watched my father and brother play their parts in the beds, and cried myself into unconsciousness. But none of them knew—I had met someone here. I pushed the door open. Sunlight poured through the window frame, and a young man sat perched on the sill, staring out at the horizon. His features were sharp, carrying a cool, detached, defiant edge. Loose strands of hair fell across his forehead, gilded pale gold in the light. If any reporter had been in the room, they might have recognized him: the youngest son of the New York shipping magnate, committed to a psychiatric hospital several years ago. I spoke softly. “I have money now. I’m getting you out of here.” Vito had no idea. My real destination was never Switzerland. It was America.

When I went back to the villa to pack, the maids gave me strange looks, opening their mouths and closing them again. I frowned and walked into the living room, and then I understood. My things had been dumped in careless heaps across the floor. And there was Gina, gliding down the staircase in a snow-white wedding gown. I bit my lip and stared at her. She lifted the hem of the skirt and smirked. “Sister. This is the gown Vito designed for you by hand, isn’t it?” “Well. Vito’s already promised it to me.” “He said your figure’s gone anyway—you couldn’t fit into this dress if you tried. He said the dress is lucky I appreciate it.” She held up the hem and twirled. “Sister. Do you think it suits me? Aren’t I beautiful?” The white gown shimmered like a dream beneath the crystal chandelier. Gina’s face was flushed with triumph, radiant with joy. Years ago, Vito had spent months drafting the design. The first time I put it on, he’d said: “Luciana. This is a one-of-a-kind dress. Only a one-of-a-kind woman could wear it.” His words still rang in my ears. But the man behind them was long gone. Gina didn’t know—I’d already given up on Vito himself. Why would I still care about a meaningless dress? I smiled, calm, and let my clenched fists slowly uncurl. “Gina. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that if you take someone else’s things, you pay for them?” “That gown is worth thirty million. I expect the transfer in my account by end of day.” Gina’s face changed in an instant. “You bitch! You’ve hogged Vito, stolen my family for years, and now you have the nerve to ask for money!” Stolen *her* family? She was my father’s illegitimate daughter. Her mother was the mistress… She and her mother were the ones who destroyed my family. She raised her hand and lunged for me. But the gown’s skirt was hopelessly heavy. I simply stepped half a pace to the side, and Gina tripped over her own hem and crashed to the ground. Dad and my brother came pounding down the stairs. “Gina! What happened?” My brother rounded on me, eyes blazing. “Luciana! Have you been bullying Gina again?!” Before I could open my mouth, a slap cracked across my face. Half my cheek exploded with a searing burn. I stared at my father in disbelief. His face was flushed dark, and his voice came out cold as ice: “I know you’re bitter. I know you’ve never truly accepted Gina. But she just gave birth. She’s still fragile! How dare you lay a hand on her!” Gina’s voice quavered pitifully through her tears. “Dad, don’t be angry at her, it’s not her fault. She said this dress cost thirty million and I don’t deserve to wear it unless I pay her. But I don’t have that kind of money… and she didn’t push me on purpose.” She looked up, the picture of wounded innocence. “It’s my fault, I don’t have the money for sister. Dad, brother—if we pay her, will she stop being angry with me?” Dad snorted and exploded. “Gina, you’re too kind. Pay this bitch? Not a chance! I should have known—she’s just like her mother. Money-grubbing whores, both of them!” Pain lanced through my chest. I pressed a hand to my burning cheek and stared at him. His face was contorted, curses tumbling out of him one after another. The mask of paternal love he’d worn for years seemed to crack apart before my eyes. My brother caught his arm in time. “Dad. Stop.” I thought, for a second, my brother would speak up for me. Then he opened his mouth, and his voice came out flat and cold: “If you push her too far she’ll make a scene at Gina’s wedding. That’s the last thing we need.” “She wants money? Give her the money. Think of it as tossing a coin to a beggar.” He pulled a card from his pocket and flicked it onto the floor at my feet, his voice dripping with disgust. “Over thirty million on that card. Enough for you?” “Take it and get out. Stay away from Gina from now on. I don’t want you ruining her mood.” I looked down at the black card lying on the floor. The last thread of attachment inside me finally snapped. I bent slowly, picked up the card, and gave a careless little smile. Looking at the wreckage of my belongings scattered across the living room, I couldn’t be bothered to sort any of it. “Well then, brother. Since you’re willing to pay, this trash is all yours.” I fixed him with a mocking stare. “Since brother has already claimed Gina as his new sister, and her mistress mother as his new mother, this old sister certainly won’t stick around to spoil the view.” “From this day on, I have nothing more to do with any of you!” I dug my documents out of the pile on the floor, turned, and headed for the door. “Wait—”

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For three years, I was Alpha Kyle’s perfect mate—obedient, loyal, completely his. But his human childhood friend, Clara, scratched her own arm and blamed me. Kyle believed her without question. He dragged me straight to the “Blood Hunt.” It was the cruelest game among wolves. A savage, ancient ritual most packs abandoned long ago. When an Alpha lost, the winner got to strip a piece of his mate’s clothing. A public display of his failure to protect her. In less than thirty minutes, Kyle lost three rounds. They tore off my leather jacket, my flannel shirt, and my thermal top. I stood in the cold, half-naked under the hungry eyes of the pack. During the break, Kyle joked with his most trusted Beta. “I’ll throw the next round too. Don’t be shy. Strip her bare.” “She hurt Clara. I’ll make sure she learns what that costs.” His Beta licked his lips. “Great. I’ve wanted to see that body in the moonlight for a long time.” Kyle gave a cold laugh. “Let’s make a wager. Whoever wins gets to claim her—and keep her in his den tonight.” The whole pack went wild, every man eager for a turn. I looked at the Alpha I’d once worshiped. And in that moment, something in me went dead. …… Kyle’s words shattered the last of my hope. I walked back to the hunting grounds, numb. Clara blocked my path, a cold sneer on her face. “Shameless. Trying to throw yourself at Kyle? You’re nothing but a lowborn stray. What gave you the nerve?” “Face it, he only loves me. We grew up together. You’re a toy he’ll throw away.” “A Luna? No! A slut, stripped and marked for the entire pack to see.” She kept closing in, malice all over her face. I clenched my fists. My voice stayed calm. “Enough. I’m hunting.”

The pack fell into a stunned silence. “Has Selene lost her mind? This isn’t a walk. It’s the Blood Hunt!” “Her? She’s so soft she’s probably never even seen a real kill.” “She’d trip over a root if she tried to run. She’s only saying this because she wants to lose—wants one of us to rail her… hahaha.” Kyle acted like he heard nothing. He let them laugh at me. After a while, Kyle noticed how pale I was. He walked over and ruffled my hair. “Selene, this is between the men. Stay back and let me handle it.” What a convincing act. If I hadn’t heard his real plan, I might have believed him. The moment Kyle said he’d do it for me, Clara cut in. “Kyle, if she wants to do it, let her. I’ll teach her everything. How to read tracks, how to spot traps. I promise she’ll be ready.” I knew what she really wanted. She was dying to watch me fail. Kyle changed his mind at once. “Fine, fine. We’ll do it your way. Selene is inexperienced. Thanks for teaching her.”

I watched them exchange looks, and my heart went cold. I cut in. “Save your breath, Clara. I’m running solo.” The other females sided with Clara and mocked me. “She offers you help and you spit on it. How pathetic.” “Maybe she’s just an exhibitionist. Maybe she wants the strongest guys in the pack to see her stripped bare.” Kyle frowned and snorted. “This isn’t a game. The terrain is rough and full of traps. You could get killed. Clara is trying to help. Why are you being such a stubborn brat?” I lifted my chin and stared straight into his eyes. “Kyle, if you were competing, would you win?” He froze. Doubt flashed in his eyes. Then he turned impatient. “My chances are better than yours. Since you don’t trust me, I have nothing more to say. Don’t blame me if you lose.” Kyle’s Beta let out a low, challenging growl. He eyed me like prey he had already cornered. “Every bet needs a stake. So tell me, Selene—if I win, what exactly do you have to offer besides your body?” Jax, a powerful Beta, sneered. I let out a dry laugh. My voice was eerily calm. “Claim me however you want. Any position, anywhere.”

The pack burst into jeers. Jax swallowed hard, his eyes raking over my body. “You said it.” Ignoring them, I walked to the starting line, expressionless. I scanned the hunting grounds ahead. Steep cliffs and raging streams cut through the forest. Some ravines were known as death traps, impossible to cross. “You’ve got to be kidding. Does she actually think she can beat Jax? He’s the fastest warrior in our pack!” “If she wins, I’ll eat my trophy necklace.” The pack raised the stakes and started placing bets. “Kyle, I’ll add a rare moonstone on top of the right to claim her.” “I’ll bet my largest hunting grounds on the western territory.” “And I’ll throw in two grizzly pelts.” When the bets were in, Jax looked at me with contempt. “Selene, I won’t hold back.” I narrowed my eyes and smirked. “Oh? Let’s see.”

Kyle’s face darkened when he saw I was serious. He glared at me, his voice a low warning. “Selene, do you have a death wish?” Before he could finish, Clara cut in, her lip trembling slightly. “Kyle, don’t.” The elder gave a long howl to start the match. Jax shot forward like a black blur. The pack roared for Jax. I watched him disappear, then closed my eyes and counted the seconds. The crowd howled, sure I would lose. Clara’s smug satisfaction was impossible to miss. “See? I told you she couldn’t do it. At least she knows when to quit.” “She’s up against Jax, a two-time Blood Hunt champion! His speed and stamina are unmatched, even by most males!” “Jax is already a third of the way there. She has no chance.” Seeing Kyle’s expression, Clara said softly. “Don’t worry, Kyle. She’s scared stiff. It’ll be over soon.” Then, I opened my eyes. My golden eyes flashed in the moonlight. My legs burst with power. I shot forward like a silver streak.

“So fast…” Kyle stared at the silver streak in shock. “She’s fast, but can she still catch up? She’d have to fly.” “If she’d left at the start, maybe she’d have had a chance.” “Go, Jax! You’re almost at the finish line!” The cheers grew louder as Jax neared the finish. Then I veered toward the Death Ravine. “Goddess! What the hell is she doing? That’s the wrong way!” “That’s a dead end! Is she crazy?” Jax glanced back and smirked when he saw me heading for the ravine. His smirk vanished. His eyes went wide. I pushed off the rock face. In a series of impossible leaps, I vaulted across the chasm. I landed in front of him and sprinted for the finish. “By the Goddess! That’s impossible!” “She flew over it!” The whole pack stared in shock. Clara’s face twisted with fury. “No… No way…” Jax crossed the line a moment later, furious. He strode toward me and snarled. “You’re nothing but a lowborn stray. Do you have any idea who you’re messing with? This is Iron Fang territory. We could bury you without breaking a sweat.” “Back the fuck off, or I’ll end you.”

I knew he would back out. I calmly patted his shoulder. “You lost, Jax. I don’t care about your bets. I want you to circle the territory and howl your submission to me. Three times.” He stared at me in disbelief. His eyes bulged with fury, fixed on me. Kyle walked over. He grabbed my wrist and looked at me. “When did you learn to do that? Jax is my best Beta. Don’t push this.” Clara quickly chimed in: “It was just a game, Selene. Don’t be so serious.” “We’re all part of the same pack. Don’t embarrass your Alpha.” I looked at the two of them. I pulled my arm free and said coldly. “If I lost, would you show me mercy?”

Kyle’s hand froze. Uncertainty flashed in his eyes. Jax strode forward, contempt in his eyes. “And if I refuse? What can you do?” “Don’t think being his mate gives you power. You’re nothing but the Alpha’s lapdog. Unfit to even lick my paws…” My gaze turned cold. I took his wrist and squeezed lightly. A sickening crack echoed through the sudden silence. “Ah——” Kyle’s face darkened. He turned and roared at me. “Selene, when did you become so vicious?” “What the hell are you trying to prove?” I shrugged and said flatly. “I’m just making him honor the bet. Can’t he take a loss?” Before I finished, Clara started acting again. She stroked the scratch on her arm, her voice trembling as she clutched Kyle’s hand. “Kyle, it’s my fault. I deserved it. Blame me.” Kyle looked at Clara, then glared at me in disgust. “I’ve spoiled you rotten, Selene. Clara has been fragile her whole life. You started this. All I asked was an apology! Was that so hard?” “Now you’ve hurt Clara and crippled my best warrior. I must teach you a lesson!” Kyle waved his hand. Images flickered across the giant Moonstone in the center of the grounds.

My pupils shrank. I stared at the Moonstone. The moment the illusions flickered to life, my world shattered. He was projecting his memories. Our memories. My most private, vulnerable moments, magnified for the entire pack to see. I was in the kitchen, clumsily making his favorite meal. My hands were covered in burns. He walked in with Clara and didn’t even look at me. The food on the table grew cold, untouched. Then came another memory: me at the Death Ravine. I hid behind a tree with a broken rib, biting my sleeve against the pain. All because he wanted a mate strong enough to hunt by his side. I waited for him by the fireplace until I fell asleep, only to wake up the next morning and find his side of the bed still empty. Scene after scene, each one a monument to my pathetic devotion. The pack’s laughter washed over me. Every jeer was a poisoned barb digging into my skin. “She acts so aloof, but look how desperate she is.” “It’s actually pathetic, trying so hard for him.” “No wonder Kyle treats her like dirt. Who respects a doormat? Hahaha…” I stood frozen, my blood running cold. He stood below the Moonstone, backlit by its glow. The face I once loved was cold now. And in that haze, I remembered the day we first met. I was the heiress to the fabled “Crescent Moon Pack.” A true Alpha, born to an ancient bloodline. I had spent my life on our hidden lands in the Montana mountains. Then the elders tried to arrange my marriage. To the heir of the Nightshade pack. An arranged marriage? For me? I had run wild and free my entire life. They thought a contract could chain me down. Not a chance.

So I ditched my guards and fled to the outskirts of Denver. The early autumn air was cool. I wore a sundress and Converse. That’s when three drunk strays cornered me in an alley. “Well, look what we have here. A little she-wolf, all alone.” I narrowed my eyes and loosened my wrists. My pack’s sentinels had trained me for combat since I could walk. These three weren’t even a warm-up. But as I prepared to strike, a figure stormed the alley. He wore a black leather jacket. In wolf form, he was all shadow and muscle. “Three males against one female? Have you no shame?” He made quick work of the strays. Later, I learned that he was the Alpha of the Iron Fang pack. In the ancient world of wolves, they were nobodies. The elders would have lost their minds if they knew. But I didn’t care. I wanted him. So I hid my identity, using a scent-sealing bracelet to mask my Alpha pheromones. I pretended to be a submissive Beta female. Because he told me he liked his mates to be obedient. We got together after that. But he had a human childhood friend, Clara. I felt her hostility from the moment we met. Yet, she played the innocent victim for Kyle. He was completely blind to her manipulations. And I was framed by her, again and again. Each time, Kyle sided with Clara without question. Still, I foolishly believed his feelings for me were real. But if he ever truly loved me… How could he use our memories to destroy me in front of everyone?

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At our daughter’s birthday party, my husband, Marco Romano, threw a paternity test onto the table in front of everyone and announced that the child wasn’t his. Just as she was reaching up her small arms, asking him to help her cut the cake. He shoved her away. Hard. In front of every single guest. “Don’t call me that.” His voice was ice. “I’m not your father.” … The whole room went dead silent. He pulled a document from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and slammed it down on the table. DNA Paternity Report— Non-Paternity. The words were blinding. I stood frozen. Sofia stumbled from the force of his shove and stared up at me, dazed. “*Mamma…*” I opened my mouth to explain. But what could I say? Swear that Marco was the only man I’d ever been with in my entire life? Who would believe me? The people in that room were the old guard of New York’s Five Families—senior members of the Lucchese family, the *Consigliere* of the Romanos. In the world of *Cosa Nostra*, tainted blood is a disgrace worse than death. *Slap.* A palm cracked across my face. Isabella. My mother. Donna Lucchese. “*Puttana!*” Her voice trembled around the word. Vittorio, my father, Don of the Lucchese family, stood there, his face rigid and dark. He didn’t hit me. He just looked at me. And in his eyes, there was nothing but disgust. That look hurt worse than any slap. Tucked against Marco’s chest, Elena had her shoulders drawn in, her eyes red, playing the picture of a fragile, injured little bird. —Elena Lucchese. The Lucchese family’s *real* daughter, “recovered” only a few months ago after decades of being lost. Her voice came out soft, with the catch of held-back tears. “I’m so sorry, Chiara…” “I just mentioned it to Marco offhand—that Sofia didn’t really look like him…” “I had no idea he’d actually go get a DNA test done…” One breezy little sentence. And Marco had run out and forged the results. From that night on— I became the joke of the entire Upper East Side. The adopted Lucchese daughter caught cheating on her husband. Sofia became the *bastarda* whispered about in every Manhattan society circle. Later, Marco filed for divorce. For Sofia’s sake, I swallowed every last shred of my pride. I wanted to beg him to run one more DNA test. At the gates of the Romano estate on Long Island, I stood outside the wrought-iron fence, clutching a photograph of my seven-year-old daughter. The study window was half open. I could hear Marco talking to his right-hand man, Luca. “You framed Chiara as a *puttana* and turned Sofia into a *bastarda*, just to give Elena the satisfaction…” “You’re not worried Chiara might take the kid and run?” Marco’s voice was lazy, as if he were discussing the vintage of a cigar. “Run? Run where?” “Don Vittorio and Donna Lucchese both signed off on the fake DNA report.” “Serves her right—that unknown adopted girl held Elena’s place for twenty whole years.” “Once Elena’s had her fill of vengeance, I’ll take Chiara back. Simple.” “She can’t live without me.” “Even after she signs the divorce papers, she’ll be sitting there clutching her ring, waiting for me to come around.” I gripped the cold iron bars until my knuckles went white. Sofia had come home from school crying that day. The private school uniform Marco had picked out for her himself was torn. Her knees were skinned raw and bloody. I called her teacher. On the other end, a nun’s voice, cold and detached: “Mrs. Romano, forgive my bluntness—” “Sofia’s family situation… has become a source of considerable outrage among the other parents.” “This is a family school. We cannot accept a child of… ‘tainted blood’ remaining here.” I hung up and held my trembling daughter. She tilted her tear-streaked little face up at me and asked: “*Mamma*… if I really *were* Papà’s daughter…” “Would he… love me again?” That was the sentence. The one that made me abandon what little dignity I had left and run to the gates of the Romano estate. And instead— I heard this. Inside the study, Luca’s voice sounded hesitant. “But Sofia, the kid…” “I drove past her school today. I saw a bunch of kids standing around her, calling her *bastarda*…” “She was crying so hard. You can really live with that?” Marco chuckled. It was a small, quiet sound, drenched in the arrogance of a man who thought he owned the world. “Kids forget. She’s little.” “She’s my flesh and blood. Romano blood.” “You think she’s really going to refuse me as her father?” I clutched the fence so hard my knuckles nearly snapped. The old me— The old me would’ve thrown open that door and stormed inside, demanding to know how he could. But not this time. This time, I simply, quietly, turned around. The black Escalade was parked under an olive tree just beyond the gates. I slid into the back seat and pulled off the wedding ring Marco had given me two years ago. I set it down gently on the center armrest. This marriage— I, Chiara Lucchese— was done. Finished.

I packed a few changes of clothes, took Sofia’s hand, and went back to the Lucchese estate. Fifty-seventh Street on the Upper East Side. The townhouse where I’d grown up. Every other time I came home, before my heels even touched the front steps, Isabella would be sweeping out in her cashmere shawl, smiling. Vittorio would stand under the portico, arms spread wide. “*Mia principessa.*” But this time— The mahogany doors opened slowly. Isabella stood under the crystal chandelier of the foyer. Not a trace of a smile on her face. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was colder than the December wind off Long Island. “*Mamma…*” My throat tightened. “I don’t have anywhere to go right now. I was hoping to bring Sofia here just for the night.” Isabella let out a cold laugh. “The Lucchese estate is not a shelter.” “Don’t drag your *disgrazia* through my door.” Something inside my chest constricted. Sofia hid behind me, timidly poking her small head out. “*Nonno! Nonna!*” Her voice was soft, still carrying that careful, fragile hope. Just like every other time she’d come home—waiting for her grandfather to sweep her up over his head, waiting for her grandmother to kiss her forehead. But this time— Vittorio stepped out of the study and stood on the landing of the staircase. Cigar smoke curled around his face. He looked at Sofia. Coldly. “Don’t address us like that.” “The Lucchese family has no *sangue* of unknown parentage.” I felt like I’d been struck across the chest with a lead pipe. I stood there, numb. A few days. Just a few days— And we’d gone from being the apple of his eye, his beloved daughter and granddaughter, to something not even worthy of being called *famiglia*? Memories flashed through my mind, one after another. Vittorio, on Christmas Eve, lifting me up onto the dining table and, in his booming Italian, introducing me proudly to every visiting *Capo* — “This is my Chiara. The brightest diamond in the Lucchese family.” Isabella, at every family banquet, walking arm in arm with me, boasting to anyone who’d listen— “My daughter—the finest businesswoman in Manhattan.” But since Elena had been “found”— It was as though God had reached down and stripped every ounce of their love for me away overnight. The pieces of the family business under my management were peeled away, one by one. The Atlantic City casino shares I’d worked countless sleepless nights to secure were transferred, bit by bit, to Elena’s name. The port connections I’d cultivated for years were erased with a casual, “Elena is the true Lucchese blood.” And back then, I actually consoled myself with such stupid, hopeful thoughts— Elena was the real daughter, lost for twenty years. Compensating her was fair. Right. But now I understood. It wasn’t compensation. It was hatred. Hatred for the adopted daughter, the cuckoo in the nest, who had occupied Elena’s rightful place for two whole decades. Marco’s words from that night in his study still echoed in my ears— “Don Vittorio and Donna Lucchese both signed off on the fake DNA report.” To give Elena her satisfaction. The adoptive parents who had raised me had knowingly allowed a public execution—had watched me and my daughter be ground into the dirt. I drew in a deep breath and forced the churning emotion back down. I tried, testing the waters: “What if… that DNA test was wrong?” “What if it had been tampered with?” Isabella paused. She didn’t even lift her eyelids. “The evidence is solid. You’re still trying to squirm out of it?” Vittorio ground his cigar out in the bronze ashtray. There was a soft hiss. “Every *Capo* in the family was there that night.” “You have dragged the Lucchese *onore* through the mud.” “One DNA report isn’t enough for you?” “Do we have to catch you and your lover *in flagrante* before you’ll admit it?” A chill crawled through me, bone-deep. They knew. They knew all of this was a lie. And still, right now, they were using the most vicious tone imaginable to nail me to the pillory as a *puttana*. Vittorio raised his hand in a gesture, and the *Consigliere* stepped out from behind him, holding a folder. “Since you still want back into this family—” “Tomorrow morning. Family press conference.” “You will make a public statement—” “Admit to marital infidelity. Admit Sofia is not of Marco’s blood.” “Then step down from every Lucchese business venture. Every share under your name gets transferred to Elena. Unconditionally.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My voice shook. “You want me to admit *what?!*” “Sofia is not a *bastarda!*” Isabella didn’t even look up. She pulled a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at the corner of her mouth, unhurried. “What comes out of a counterfeit—” “—if not more counterfeit?” Something in my head roared. Something inside my chest shattered completely. That was when— Light footsteps drifted down from upstairs. Elena descended the marble spiral staircase. She was wearing a soft cream knit dress, her eyes rimmed red, playing frightened and delicate. “*Papà, Mamma*, don’t be like this…” She stepped between us, all pitiful grace. That face—so much like Isabella’s—was etched with meticulously performed “kindness.” “Chiara.” She turned to me, her voice as sweet as honey. “I know this is hard for you.” “But *Papà* and *Mamma* are getting older.” “You know better than I do what the Lucchese name means among New York’s Five Families.” “The family’s *onore* cannot be dragged through the mud because of one woman’s private life.” Then she bent down to look at Sofia, who was clutching my skirt tightly. Her eyes brimmed with meticulously staged pity. “As for whether Sofia is Marco’s child—it doesn’t really matter.” “Marco is such a good man—” “He won’t hold it against you.” I opened my mouth to speak again. But Vittorio raised his hand, dismissing me with a gesture. “*Basta.*” “We raised you for twenty years. We were prepared to leave you with at least a scrap of dignity.” “Since you refuse to see reason—” “From this moment on, never set foot in the Lucchese house again.” At his command, Alfonso the butler snapped his fingers, and two footmen appeared. My few changes of clothes, along with Sofia’s tiny suitcase— *Thud.* Tossed down the front steps. December in Manhattan. The wind swept snow flurries down my collar. Sofia tilted her face up at me. Her wide, hazel eyes—so identical to my own—filled with confusion and fear. “*Mamma*… do we still have a home?” I crouched down. I took her small, cold hand and squeezed it tightly in mine. I couldn’t speak. Not a single word. Behind me, the great door— *Slammed shut.*

By the time we left the Lucchese estate, night had settled in deep. Sofia curled against me, eyes swollen from crying, silent. I kissed the top of her head, telling myself she’d worn herself out crying. I hailed a yellow cab and gave the driver the name of a hotel I knew well. The Plaza. Every time a New York charity gala ended, I used to take Sofia there for the night. The concierge would spot me from across the lobby and bow with a smile— “Good evening, Mrs. Romano.” But not tonight. I stood beneath the gilded chandelier, disheveled beyond recognition. “Good evening. I’d like to check into a suite.” I slid the Romano family credit card across the desk. The young woman at the counter swiped it and looked up. “I’m sorry, ma’am—this card has been frozen.” My stomach dropped. Marco had frozen not only the Romano household card, but also arranged, through the joint account he still held with me, to freeze my personal Amex Black Card. I pulled it out anyway and handed it over, praying. She swiped again. Two seconds of silence. “This one… doesn’t work either.” My fingertips went cold. Nausea rolled up through my stomach. Marco could actually be *this* ruthless. He didn’t just want me to bow. He wanted to cut off every last exit I had left in Manhattan. The clerk lowered her voice, her tone flat, almost cold. “Ma’am, will you still be attempting to check in?” I swallowed hard, turned, and walked into the corner of the lobby. I dialed my best friend. Bianca. My inseparable partner-in-crime since St. Catherine’s. “Bianca… can you lend me some money? Or use your card to book me a room? Sofia needs somewhere to sleep tonight.” Silence on the other end. Two beats. Her voice dropped low. “Chiara… it’s not that I don’t want to help you.” “My father’s vineyard—we’re in talks with the Romanos right now about our Northern Italian import channel.” “With everything going down about you all over the Upper East Side… if I stick my neck out, Marco could sink our business with a single phone call.” She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. I hung up. I stared at my reflection in the polished marble floor— A woman with disheveled hair, cradling her child. Twenty-eight years. And I had *nothing.* Nothing but this seven-year-old daughter still curled against me, still fiercely, unquestioningly on my side. But in the very next moment— She swayed, then slumped limp into my arms. I pressed my hand to her forehead. My heart went cold. She was burning up. I scrolled through my contacts. One by one. All those women who used to call me “Mrs. Romano,” who used to fight to get their picture taken with me—the socialites, the charity ladies, the business partners— Not one of them would take my call. At last, my thumb stopped on the last name I ever wanted to bother. Damian Rossi. I hesitated a long moment. Then, with Sofia’s small body burning against my chest, I pressed call. The phone rang only twice before he picked up. The voice on the other end was low, steady, unchanged from all those years ago. “Chiara. *Stai piangendo?*” Just that one sentence. Every scrap of composure I’d been holding together shattered at once. I don’t remember exactly what I said—only that when I hung up, a private car account had been opened in my name, a suite was reserved, and a family pediatrician was already on his way. Half an hour later, I lifted Sofia up and walked back to the front desk of a different hotel—The Carlyle. “Please, I need a room. My daughter has a high fever.” Behind me, in the lobby, I could still hear the whispers from the Plaza staff following me down the sidewalk in my head. Earlier, at the Plaza, the clerk had rolled her eyes. Her voice hadn’t been loud, but it had been loud enough to reach the several richly-dressed guests standing nearby. “That explains why the Romano cards got frozen—” “You’re that adopted Lucchese girl. The one who cheated on her husband.” I had frozen in place. She had looked me up and down, her tone growing sharper. “So the trash in the blood shows through, no surprise there.” “But then you had to go and pop out some mystery-blooded *bastarda* to embarrass yourself even more.” “Ma’am, the Plaza is a place of standing. Kindly leave. Don’t stain our lobby.” Every eye in the lobby had turned to us. Whispers. I had opened my mouth to explain. But what was there to explain? I had bitten down hard, clutching my feverish Sofia, and stumbled backward out through the revolving doors. December in Manhattan. The wind on Fifth Avenue sliced through my collar like a blade. Christmas lights strung the length of the street, garish in their cheerfulness. Sofia was slipping in and out of consciousness, her small face buried in the crook of my neck, murmuring in a threadbare voice— “*Papà… non lasciarmi…*” Just that one sentence. It had torn my heart into pieces. I had gritted my teeth. I had pulled out my phone and, with trembling fingers, dialed Marco’s number. One ring. Two. Ten. No answer. My fingers shook so badly I could barely hold the phone. I typed out a text— *Sofia has a high fever. Can you come?* A long while later. He replied. *The kid isn’t mine. I don’t have time to sit through your sob show.* I stared at that string of letters. Cars roared past on Fifth Avenue. And I—I couldn’t even cry. Not a single sound came out. Which was when I had scrolled, at last, to Damian’s name. And now, an hour later, I was walking through the doors of The Carlyle, Sofia’s small body still burning, but with somewhere—finally—to lay her down. The night nurse Damian had arranged was already waiting. I laid Sofia gently on the bed and watched, hollow-eyed, as the pediatrician began to work. And then my phone lit up again. Marco. *Chiara. I’m not waiting any longer. Three days from now. City Hall.* *Sign.*

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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.”

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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.”

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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.】

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Chapter 1 My water broke unexpectedly before my due date. I frantically woke up Julian, telling him to grab the hospital bag and get me to the hospital. Just as we were about to walk out the door, my best friend, Chloe, ran out of the guest room barefoot. “Oh, wait! I haven’t washed my hair yet!” My stomach cramped painfully, but Julian actually stopped. “Okay, no rush. Put some shoes on first.” Chloe stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair and pouting. “Don’t worry, Sarah, I’ll be super fast.” “We agreed I’m going to be the baby’s godmother and the first one to hold her! I can’t take pictures with greasy hair.” Then, she casually tossed an order at Julian. “I’m gonna go wash my hair. Can you wipe down my white sneakers? I want to wear them today.” Without a second of hesitation, Julian dropped my hospital bag and started scrubbing her shoes. My parents called on FaceTime after getting the news. Their faces were pale with panic. “We’re on our way. We already called your doctor. Get there as fast as you can!” I looked at Julian, enduring the pain. “I’m already dilating. If we don’t go right now, the baby and I are both in danger.” Julian let out a soft, dismissive laugh. “Having a baby doesn’t happen that fast. We’d just be sitting around waiting anyway. Stop being so dramatic.” Dramatic. My water just broke, and he was calling me dramatic. I watched him meticulously scrubbing Chloe’s shoes, and suddenly, I felt profoundly exhausted by it all. I quietly sent a text message to someone else. “You said you wanted both me and the baby, right? I’m giving birth in about half an hour.” “If you make it in time, you’re the father.” … The reply came almost instantly. “?” “Okay. It’s a deal.” The shower was running loudly in the bathroom. Julian didn’t rush her at all. Instead, he carefully plugged in the hairdryer and set it to the warm setting for her. Meanwhile, the heavy, dragging pain in my lower abdomen intensified. I slid down the wall and collapsed onto the floor. My doula, Mary, couldn’t watch this anymore. She helped me lie flat on the sofa. “Dad, you really shouldn’t delay this any longer. Her water broke. The baby could suffocate at any moment. You need to be at the hospital within half an hour.” “You still have to drive there. What if she goes into a difficult labor?” My sister-in-law chimed in too. “She’s not even at her due date yet! This is a premature rupture of membranes. She has to go to the ER immediately.” “Even if the mother can wait, the baby can’t!” Everyone was staring at him anxiously, but Julian didn’t even look up. He was busy packing Chloe’s skincare products. “It’s fine. Chloe’s just washing her hair.” Then he looked at me, attempting to be soothing. “Having a baby takes hours. Worst case scenario, we just do a C-section. You didn’t want a natural birth anyway.” I looked at him, my voice trembling. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is when your water breaks?!” “Mhm.” Julian turned his head, staring at the bathroom door, giving a half-hearted hum. He clearly hadn’t heard a word I said. I took a deep breath and violently hurled a throw pillow at him. “I said, the baby and I could die at any second! I need to go to the hospital RIGHT NOW! Are you deaf?!” Julian was stunned by my screaming. Irritation flashed in his eyes. “Are you having another meltdown? Ever since you got pregnant, you expect the whole world to revolve around you.” “Chloe is just washing her hair! You can’t even wait five minutes? Weren’t you the one who promised she could be the godmother?” The shouting in the living room alerted Chloe. She ran out of the bathroom with dripping wet hair, acting all cutesy. “Please, please, please! Didn’t we agree ages ago that I’m going to be the godmother?” “These are the most important photos of my life! How can I take them looking like a greaseball? Let me just blow-dry it, it’ll be super quick.” As soon as the hairdryer turned on, Julian took it from her. “You’re too slow. Let me do it, then we’ll leave.” Watching Julian meticulously dry Chloe’s hair, a sour bitterness filled my chest. In my third trimester, whenever I asked him to help dry my hair, he always made excuses about being too tired from work. Just as I was thinking this, a sharp, violent pain tore through my stomach. More amniotic fluid leaked out. Mary quickly helped clean me up, but her face suddenly dropped. “Oh my god, your fluid is turning yellow.” “That means there’s meconium in the fluid. We seriously cannot wait another second!” The hairdryer was buzzing so loudly neither of them heard her. Mary marched over and yanked the plug out of the wall. “The mother needs to go to the hospital immediately!” Chloe looked at Julian in shock. “Since when does a doula get to boss people around in your house? I’m just washing my hair and she’s throwing a fit?” Julian scoffed coldly. “I told her my mom could come help, but she insisted on hiring someone. What am I supposed to do?” He turned the hairdryer back on. Neither of them showed an ounce of concern for me or my baby. Instead, they were complaining about my decision to hire a doula. Eventually, the hospital called to rush us. “It’s 10:20 AM. Where is the patient? The delivery room is prepped and the doctors are ready. You must arrive before 11:00 AM. Do not take any chances with this.” The hairdryer stopped again. This time, I pulled the plug. I was gasping for air. “11:00 AM. I have to be at the hospital.” “Fine, fine, fine, we’re going right now. You always blow things out of proportion.” Under my desperate urging, Julian reluctantly grabbed the hospital bag and followed me out the door. At that moment, my parents and my brother arrived. Seeing that I still hadn’t left, their faces immediately darkened. “Why are you still here?! Hurry up and go!” But before I could even step out the door, Chloe shrieked again. She touched her hair, looking frustrated. “Oh no, I forgot to curl my hair! How am I supposed to take good pictures like this?” “Can we wait just a little bit longer? Curling it will be super fast!” My mom couldn’t help but intervene. “How about you stay here and finish getting ready? We’ll take Sarah to the hospital first. This is a matter of life and death, we can’t wait.” Chloe casually plugged in her curling iron, not in a rush at all. “Auntie, don’t worry! I’ll be done in a second, let’s just go together.” “I’m the godmother! I have to look beautiful when I’m the first one to hold her!” “If you’re coming, then hurry the hell up! My sister’s life is on the line, we’re not waiting for you to do your makeup!” My brother snapped at Chloe. Her hand paused on the curling iron, and she immediately put on a crying voice. “Why are you yelling at me?! I’m not doing it on purpose! I’m already going as fast as I can!” “How was I supposed to know her water would break today? I wasn’t prepared for this either, I’m stressed out too!” My mom ignored her, supporting my weight as we headed for the stairs. My dad and brother ran ahead to start the car. But Julian, without a second thought, stepped back into the living room. “It’s okay, take your time curling it. Don’t burn yourself.” Hearing this, my mom shot Julian a deeply disturbed look. Inside my belly, the baby was kicking and thrashing wildly from lack of oxygen. I inhaled sharply from the pain and glared at Julian. “I have to be at the hospital by 11:00 AM.” “It is 10:30 AM right now. Are you coming or not?” Seeing my pale, exhausted face, a flicker of guilt crossed Julian’s eyes. He forcefully pushed me back onto the sofa to sit down, trying to comfort me. “Stop acting out. You’re just faking the pain because you want me to prioritize you.” “Chloe will be done soon. Just be good.” I was forced to lie back down on the sofa. The contractions were no longer just a dull ache; they were turning into a sharp, agonizing pain. Chloe was still checking herself out in the mirror. When our eyes met, cold sweat was pouring down my forehead. She stuck her tongue out at me. “Since my hair is already curled, I might as well throw on some quick makeup. It’ll only take a few minutes.” “Julian, come help me pick! Does this nude shade or the rose color look better?” My sister-in-law, who had been quiet until now, finally exploded. “Enough is enough! Sarah is waiting to go to the hospital!” But Chloe just walked over and linked arms with her, her tone dripping with envy. “Sarah is so lucky. She’s having a baby and even her sister-in-law comes rushing over.” “Not like me. Nobody loves me. I just want to look pretty for one photo, I’m sure Sarah will understand, right?” I was in too much pain to speak, so she took my silence as a yes. Julian looked at me too. “Five more minutes, max. Once she’s done, we leave immediately.” Another contraction ripped through me. I gripped the bedsheets desperately until the wave of agony passed before I could finally speak. “Julian. On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, she said she wanted to come along. You insisted we wait for her. She overslept, the courthouse closed, and we still aren’t legally married.” “At our wedding, she was supposed to be a bridesmaid, but she insisted on riding in your car. She got drunk the night before and made you miss the ceremony time.” “Today is the last time I will ever ask you this. Do you choose me and our child, or do you choose to wait for her?” Julian’s face went completely dark. “Are you seriously using the fact that you’re in labor to bring up old arguments?!” Chloe dramatically covered her mouth. “Wow, Sarah, I didn’t know you held such grudges! Do pregnant women just have nothing better to do than try and pick fights with people?” “Whatever. I’m not going to argue with a pregnant lady. But I’m not done getting ready yet.” I looked at her. It was supposed to just be a hair wash. Then it became makeup. Next, she would definitely need to pick out an outfit. She wouldn’t be out that door for another hour. At 10:40 AM, there were streaks of blood in my amniotic fluid. I ignored them completely, biting down hard on my lip to stop myself from screaming in pain. “Take your time getting ready. I won’t be joining you.” Hearing that I was leaving, Chloe sprinted over and blocked the door. “Oh my gosh, what’s a few more minutes?! I’ll be done so fast! Do you really want me looking ugly when I hold my goddaughter? These are the most important photos of my life!” At 10:45 AM, another gush of fluid ran down my legs. I could barely stand. My brother called, frantically rushing us. “Why aren’t you down here yet?! The hospital keeps calling! If we aren’t there by 11:00 AM, the chances of both mother and baby surviving drop drastically!” “Every minute we delay is another minute of danger!” The contractions were hitting me wave after wave. I was in so much pain I couldn’t even form a complete sentence. My sister-in-law snatched the phone from me and roared into it. “It’s not that we don’t want to leave! It’s because ugly people take forever to get ready, and she’s refusing to leave but won’t let us out the door either!” “Fine, stay right there. I’m coming up with Dad.” When my dad stormed upstairs, Chloe was meticulously applying false eyelashes in front of the mirror. He suppressed his rage and turned to Julian. “Julian, I have never treated you poorly. When you married my daughter, I told you I didn’t want a car, a house, or a dowry. All I asked was that you treat her well.” “What did you promise me back then?” “And now, you’re risking my daughter’s life to wait for someone else? Do you think this is acceptable?!” My brother’s fists were clenched tight. “Julian, when you pursued Sarah, you swore you’d be good to her for the rest of your life. That’s the only reason I let you have her.” “We’ve all seen how much she’s suffered through this pregnancy. And now you’re telling her to wait? Tell me, how exactly do you put giving birth on hold?!” “But… I’m the godmother! If my hair is greasy, how am I supposed to take pictures?” “Yeah! Sarah already promised Chloe could be the godmother.” The two of them played off each other, somehow spinning this to make it my fault again. My dad couldn’t hold back anymore. He shouted furiously. “Godmother?! What the hell is a godmother compared to the actual mother?!” “So you’re saying Sarah has to wait? She has to wait for this girl to finish her pathetic little performance before my daughter is allowed to give birth?!” My dad was usually the peacemaker. In the past, he was always so warm and welcoming to Julian. Whenever we argued, he would always tell me to reign in my temper. This was the first time I had ever seen him so enraged. Julian lowered his head. Meanwhile, Chloe finally finished applying her last eyelash. She stepped in front of Julian. “Sir, that’s really unfair. What do you mean ‘waiting for me’? Even if we go to the hospital, we’ll just be waiting there too! Why aren’t you yelling at the doctors?” “And Sarah, if you hadn’t asked me, I wouldn’t even want to be the godmother! Now you’re acting like this is all my fault.” “Fine! It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have even come!” The next second, she stormed back into the guest room and slammed the door so hard the walls shook. Another violent contraction hit me. My vision went completely black, and I almost collapsed to my knees. My family rushed to grab me, trying to carry me downstairs. But Julian still refused to leave. He blocked the door, his voice low and heavy. “Sarah, does a few minutes really make that much of a difference? What is the point of fighting over a few minutes?” “You were the one who asked her to be the godmother! Now you’ve caused this huge scene. Go apologize to her right now.” “Or do you want your child to be born without a father present?!” He knew perfectly well how terrified I was of giving birth. We had agreed ages ago that he would be in the delivery room with me and that he would cut the umbilical cord. So now, he was threatening me. If Chloe didn’t leave, neither would he. If that’s how it was going to be, then I’d just get my child a new father. After all, ever since I sent that text, my phone had been blowing up with messages. The most recent one read: “Almost there.” At 10:50 AM, the hospital called again. “Where exactly is the patient? Do you need us to dispatch an ambulance? Based on the symptoms you described, her amniotic fluid is likely almost completely drained.” “If she isn’t admitted immediately, you will be responsible for the consequences.” My mom was so frantic her voice was shaking. “Did you hear the doctor?! The fluid is almost gone! Get out of the way!” Inside the guest room, Chloe cried even louder. “It’s fine, you guys go ahead! Don’t worry about an outsider like me!” “Someone like me doesn’t deserve to be the baby’s godmother anyway!” Julian panicked. He stood outside the door and promised her loudly: “If you don’t go, I won’t go either.” The moment those words left his mouth, everyone’s faces changed. 10:52 AM. Enduring the contractions, I directed my mom to pack all my jewelry, bank books, and important documents. Seeing me packing my valuables, Julian’s rage finally exploded. “What the hell are you doing now?! Can’t you just go apologize?!” “I’m telling you, this silent treatment isn’t going to work on me anymore. Don’t expect me to come crawling to your parents’ house begging you to come back this time.” I touched my rock-hard stomach and used every ounce of strength I had left to shove him out of the way. “I said, I’m going to the hospital. The baby has stopped moving.” “Fine, go! But don’t come crying to me later!” Julian stepped aside, absolutely certain that I would need his signature to proceed with the delivery. Hearing this, Chloe suddenly stopped crying. She poked her head out the door. “Julian, you should probably go. Don’t worry about me. Her whole family is watching, after all.” She made it sound like she was being considerate, but she was really just taking a jab at my family for being overly involved. I didn’t have time to deal with them. Clutching my stomach, I stumbled down the stairs. Baby, please just hold on a little longer for Mommy. Please. But when we reached the garage, my car was gone. When I got pregnant, my parents bought me a luxury minivan to make things easier. But the parking spot was empty. My brother made a phone call. “You bastard! Where is my sister’s car?!” Chloe, who had just demanded we wait for her, suddenly wasn’t in a rush anymore. She ran down the stairs holding her bangs, frantically trying to explain. “I told Julian! I borrowed the car for a couple of days! I was going to return it soon!” I completely ignored her and dialed 911. “Hello, I need to report a stolen…” Before I could finish the sentence, Julian slapped the phone out of my hand. He grabbed my arm and dragged me outside. “You wanted to go to the hospital, right? Fine! Let’s go right now! Happy?” He shoved me into his sedan and drove like a maniac, speeding and slamming on the brakes. Huge drops of cold sweat rolled down my face. My mom kept pleading with him. “Slow down! Drive safe!” His voice was cold and hard. “Just a minute ago you couldn’t wait five minutes, now you want me to slow down?” At 10:57 AM, we finally arrived at the hospital. The ER staff had a gurney waiting outside for me. The operating room was prepped. They just needed a family member’s signature to wheel me in. Just as Julian picked up the pen, Chloe suddenly let out an annoyed groan. “Oh no! I forgot to put on my press-on nails! My hands are gonna look so ugly in pictures! Sarah, wait just a second, let me glue these on before we take a picture.” 10:58 AM. I was completely pale from the agonizing pain. I could only force out a few broken words. “Hurry… sign it…” The doctors and nurses all sternly warned Julian. “Sign it right now! The amniotic fluid is severely contaminated. If it enters her bloodstream, it’s over.” “The optimal window for intervention closes at 11:00 AM. Every single minute is critical.” Julian hesitated with the pen. He wrote one stroke, then stopped, turning back to me. “Can we just wait a second? Gluing on nails is super fast.” I closed my eyes. I could feel something tearing, dropping heavily inside me. Julian kept rambling. “We’re already at the hospital anyway, what difference does a minute make? She just wants a nice photo for the memories.” I was delirious from the pain. I roared with whatever breath I had left: “Sign it, or get the fuck out!” “What is your problem?!” 10:59 AM. The elevator doors chimed and slid open. A man in a black suit strode out rapidly. He shoved Julian aside and stepped right to the front. “She means, get the fuck out.” “I am the father of this child. I will sign it.”

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Chapter 1 Fifteen years ago, a brutally murdered corpse was found in my bedroom. My parents, choosing “righteousness” over their son, pointed their fingers at me as the killer. My twin brother, crying hysterically, begged me to turn myself in. My wife, the CEO of a rising tech firm, immediately filed for divorce. I was convicted and sent to prison. The victim’s family paid inmates to ruin my vocal cords and break my arms and legs. For fifteen years, I endured that hell. On the day of my release, my ex-wife and my brother arrived to pick me up, wearing matching wedding bands. My brother looked at me with deep emotion. “Arthur, you’ve paid for your sins. We’ll take good care of you from now on.” A prison guard standing nearby gave me a meaningful look. “Your brother and sister-in-law are treating you well. You better turn over a new leaf and start living right.” I let out a cold sneer. Because the one who committed the murder fifteen years ago wasn’t me. It was my twin brother. … The reporters my brother, Oliver, had brought with him instantly swarmed me, their cameras aimed like weapons. “Mr. Sterling, you brutally murdered someone and even mutilated the corpse, yet you only served fifteen years. Was this due to the financial influence of your sister-in-law, CEO Victoria Sterling?” “What are your thoughts on the victim’s family threatening to kill you?” “In these fifteen years, have you felt a single ounce of remorse for your crimes?” They pressed closer, practically shoving their microphones down my throat. The shifting shadows instantly plunged me back into the nightmare of being jumped in my cell. I instinctively covered my head and scrambled backward, only to trip over my own crippled legs and crash to the ground. “Don’t… don’t hit me…” Amidst the commotion, my ex-wife, Victoria, pushed through the crowd, using her body to shield me from the aggressive reporters. “My husband’s brother only committed manslaughter, and he has served his full sentence. There was no bribery involved! If you continue to harass us, I will have my lawyers pursue this to the fullest extent!” Intimidated by her threat, the reporters reluctantly dispersed. Only then did Oliver quickly walk over, extending a hand with a look of deep concern. “Arthur, are you okay? Thank God I asked Victoria to come along. I’m so sorry, I had no idea the reporters would follow us…” Victoria linked her arm through his other arm, comforting him softly. “This isn’t your fault. You don’t need to apologize.” I slapped his hand away and struggled to my feet, trying desperately to straighten a spine that had grown accustomed to hunching. “I don’t need your fake sympathy!” In front of them, and only them, I refused to look pathetic. Dragging my bad leg, I stubbornly made my way to the car door alone. Oliver squeezed into the backseat right after me. He flashed the wedding ring on his ring finger, his tone laced with a deliberate, performative guilt, but the triumph in his eyes was unmistakable. “Arthur, my wife… I mean, Victoria and I got married fifteen years ago. When you went to prison for murder, my health was failing. To take care of me, she proposed.” He feigned a sudden realization, giving me an apologetic smile. “But don’t worry, Arthur. Victoria and I have already talked it over. You can still live in the villa with us. After all, you’ve been in prison for fifteen years. Even if you were highly capable before, you probably can’t even support yourself now.” “Oliver!” Victoria sharply cut off Oliver’s rambling. She glanced at me through the rearview mirror, her voice softening. “Your brother just got out. Let him get some rest.” Oliver let out a reluctant “Oh.” I turned my head, staring out at the rapidly passing city streets, my mind drifting back to the past. Fifteen years ago, I was a top-tier venture capitalist. Countless people chased after me, waving cash, begging for a piece of the action. The initial capital for Victoria’s startup, and every dime of funding that kept it afloat afterward, came from my operations. She had held my hands tightly back then, her eyes filled with gratitude, promising to protect me for the rest of her life and never let me suffer a single injustice. But fifteen years in a maximum-security prison had ground away my brilliance and numbed my nerves. That world, which once belonged to me, had long since locked its doors against me. When the car pulled into the driveway, I stared at the building ahead, momentarily dazed. The “villa” Oliver had mentioned was the home Victoria and I had bought as our marital house. My parents rushed out, swarming Oliver with doting affection and concern. I stood to the side, feeling like a complete stranger, watching their heartwarming family reunion. Victoria carried my duffel bag. “Mom, Dad, Arthur is back.” My parents’ expressions instantly hardened. The moment they looked at me, their brows knitted together in unison. My dad’s face was twisted with disgust. “Victoria, I told you not to bring this sick, corpse-mutilating murderer back here!” My mom looked equally disapproving. “Exactly, Victoria. Just having him here makes the air feel polluted.” A delayed, sharp pain pierced my chest. For over twenty years, they always made sure to divide fruit exactly evenly between me and my brother. I always believed they loved me too. It wasn’t until fifteen years ago that I realized, with a sickening jolt, that it had all been my own wishful thinking. Oliver affectionately pulled on their arms. “Mom, Dad, Arthur just spent fifteen years in prison. For my sake, just be a little nicer to him!” My parents snorted coldly and said nothing more. Dinner was a rushed, silent affair. Afterward, I was placed in a storage room. Looking at the bare, hard wooden plank they called a bed, I remained silent. Late into the night, I curled up on the wooden board, completely devoid of sleep. In prison, just to torture me, the shot-caller in my cell block would have his guys take shifts watching me. The moment I dared to close my eyes, a brutal beating would follow. Knock, knock, knock. I jolted in terror. It took a long moment for me to remember I wasn’t in a cell anymore. Listening to the persistent knocking, I slowly stood up. When I opened the door and saw who it was, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “What do you want?” Victoria looked at me with deep concern. “You just got home. I was worried you wouldn’t be used to it, so I came to check on you.” My voice was as cold as ice. “Get out. I don’t need your fake concern.” She looked at me helplessly, a hint of indulgence in her eyes. It was the exact same expression she wore sixteen years ago. Back then, I had caught her and Oliver lying naked in bed together. I had lost my mind, screaming and demanding an explanation. She had shielded Oliver behind her, letting me vent my rage. When I was completely exhausted, she finally spoke, her voice light and helpless. “Oliver and I just got drunk. Nothing happened. Please don’t misunderstand.” Her face from the past perfectly overlapped with the woman standing before me now. She reached out and grabbed my wrist. Her thumb rubbed against my skin, sending a violent shiver of disgust down my spine. “Don’t touch me!” I yanked my arm back, but I couldn’t break her grip. “Arthur, the one I love has always been you. Marrying Oliver was only so I could help take care of your family. We’re only husband and wife on paper…” “Oh?” I interrupted with a cold sneer. “Taking care of him all the way into bed? Oliver made sure to mention before dinner that you had a miscarriage with his child.” Victoria desperately tried to push her way into my embrace. “Arthur, it’s not what you think! I’ve been waiting for you all these years. I told you I would always protect you.” I shoved her away violently, stumbling backward. “You can still stomach a guy looking like this? Or what, are you hoping to have both brothers at your beck and call?” She looked deeply wounded. “Arthur…” “What the hell are you doing?!” Oliver’s shrill voice pierced down the hallway. He looked furious. My parents flanked him on either side, glaring at me with utter revulsion. Victoria quickly walked over, hooking her arm through his and whispering words of comfort. Oliver suddenly lunged at me and slapped me hard across the face. “Arthur! I was kind enough to bring you home, and on your very first day, you go behind my back and try to seduce Victoria?! She is my wife now!” “Have you no shame?!” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my mouth and scoffed. “I didn’t do a damn thing.” Seeing his face full of arrogant disbelief, a vindictive urge took hold of me. I curled my lips into a smirk and spoke slowly. “But even if I did, I learned it from you.” “The very first time I brought Victoria home to meet the family, didn’t you sneak into her room wearing my pajamas?” Since we were kids, Oliver always loved taking things that caught my eye. When I brought Victoria home, he brazenly tried to seduce her. Back then, Victoria had chosen me with unwavering certainty, rejecting him flat out. Even when my parents tried to smooth things over and pretend nothing happened, she was the one who stood by my side and demanded justice for me. It was a pity that by our third year of marriage, Victoria slowly began to favor Oliver. My dad slapped me across the face. “Are you still spouting that nonsense?! Victoria already explained that the incident back then was just a misunderstanding! Why do you insist on holding onto it?!” My mom wrapped her arms around Oliver, comforting him. She shot a reproachful look at Victoria. “He’s a murderer! Couldn’t you just give him some money and send him away?! Did you have to bring him back here to ruin our peace?!” I clutched my stinging cheek and let out a low, raspy laugh. “A murderer? But I wasn’t the one who committed the murder.” My parents froze, their faces instantly draining of color. My dad’s voice trembled. “Wh-what nonsense are you talking about?” Enduring the pain, I forced myself to stand tall, keeping my spine perfectly straight, taking in every ounce of their panicked expressions. “Oliver is the one who killed him! If you guys hadn’t used your status as family members to commit perjury, they wouldn’t have even denied me a lawyer! I…” Victoria stepped forward at exactly the right moment. Her tone was gentle, but her authority was absolute. “Arthur, you’ve already paid for your crimes. Why keep dwelling on the past?” “Oliver was out of line today, and I apologize on his behalf. Don’t overthink things. Just get some rest. We won’t bother you anymore.” She looped her arm through Oliver’s and quickly ushered them all away. The moment the door clicked shut, I slid down the wood paneling and collapsed onto the floor. The courage I had just forced myself to project vanished completely. Cold sweat soaked my back. But I knew one thing for certain: I could not afford to collapse now. Over the next few days, my parents treated me like I was invisible. Victoria would occasionally cast hesitant, lingering glances my way. Oliver’s smug bragging eventually stopped when he realized I was completely ignoring him. I breathed a sigh of relief. This arrangement worked for me. It gave me enough time to track down the clues from fifteen years ago. Until one day, I was walking past the study and heard my dad’s agitated voice. “Victoria, I know you still care about Arthur. But he refuses to repent, and he’s still trying to frame Oliver!” My mom chimed in, “If we hadn’t called the police ourselves back then, he would have gotten the death penalty! We’ve done more than enough for him!” Oliver’s voice trembled. He sounded like he was defending me, but he was actually pouring gas on the fire. “It’s all my fault. I never should have married Victoria. It’s only natural that Arthur hates me.” My mom stared directly at Victoria. “Victoria, what exactly are you planning to do with Arthur?” Victoria hesitated for a long time before she finally spoke slowly. “Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I will handle it.” I withdrew my gaze, lowered my eyes, and quietly walked away. Now was not the time for a confrontation. I just needed a little more time. But I never could have imagined how quickly they would act. As I was leaving the hospital after a checkup, a sudden, sharp pain exploded at the back of my neck. The world went black. When I woke up, my eyes were blindfolded, and my mouth was stuffed with a gag. I couldn’t make a single sound. “Oliver… if we really do this, how are we any different from the monster who killed our mom?” “Shut up and back off! When our mom was brutally murdered, that piece of garbage only got fifteen years! I can’t let that go! Plus, if we kill this scumbag, he’s going to pay us ten million dollars!” The blindfold was violently ripped off. A man with a twisted, ferocious face grabbed my jaw. I scanned the room, but I couldn’t see the girl whose voice I had just heard. The man reached out, slapped my cheek mockingly, and yanked the gag out of my mouth. “About to die, and you’re still looking around?” I forced myself to stay calm. “If it’s money you want, I have accounts in a Swiss bank…” Before I could finish, a brutal punch slammed into my stomach. The agonizing pain made me instinctively curl into a ball, but he showed no mercy, raining kicks and punches down on me. “I don’t want your fucking money! If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have lost our mother! My sister and I wouldn’t have been abandoned by our father and forced to grow up on the streets! This is all because of you! Everything is your fault!” Panting heavily, he grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head up. “But thank God, someone delivered you right into my hands so I could finally get justice for my mom.” “It really… wasn’t me…” Another punch smashed into my face. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “Shut up! Murderers don’t get to speak!” He shoved the gag back into my mouth, took a few steps back, and pulled out a remote detonator. “I built these explosives myself, but they’re more than enough to blow you to hell.” No! I had finally found the clues to prove my innocence! I couldn’t die here! I thrashed like a madman. The ropes bit deep into my flesh, scraping me raw and bloody, but I couldn’t break free. The ticking countdown echoed through the cavernous warehouse. Every single tick felt like a hammer striking my heart. Three… two… one… BOOM! A scorching shockwave, carrying unimaginable agony, swept over me. Tears of sheer defiance rolled down my face. Just as my consciousness began to shatter, a figure cleaved through the roaring flames and the blistering shockwave, throwing themselves over me and shielding me completely. Every ounce of pain was instantly cut off.

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Chapter 1 In the middle of the night, I received an emergency dispatch to unlock a door. As a firefighter, I arrived at the scene as quickly as possible. It was a couple playing games, and the woman’s handcuffs were stuck. I went through the standard procedure, asking the man if there were any other hazards in the room. The man laughed and shook his head, a playful look on his face. I felt a bit weirded out. That was until I looked down and saw the woman on the bed. She had used her hair to completely cover her face. But exposed on her thigh was a butterfly tattoo—identical to the one on my celebrity wife, who was supposedly out of town on business. I froze. The man raised an eyebrow and continued, “Is something wrong? I’m really sorry for the trouble so late at night.” “It’s her fault, she rarely gets out. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, you know? We just went a little overboard.” I tightened my grip on the hydraulic cutters and snapped the handcuffs. So, her coldness was only reserved for me. I guess I just gave her her freedom back. … The handcuffs snapped with a loud clack. I tried my best to keep my voice steady: “Alright, ma’am, try moving around a bit. Let me know if anything hurts.” The person on the bed mumbled indistinctly: “No.” My heart sank completely. Just from that single syllable, I recognized the voice. It was undeniably Chloe, my wife. Liam suddenly stepped between me and the bed. “Sorry about that. My wife is a minor celebrity, so it’s not really convenient for her to show her face. I hope you understand.” I turned to leave. “Then I’ll conclude the call.” Liam stopped me and shoved a paper cup into my hand. “You worked hard coming all the way out here so late. Have a glass of water before you go.” “No need.” I looked down to decline, but my eyes landed on the diamond ring on his ring finger. My brain exploded. I recognized that ring. It was the wedding ring I had saved up two years of my salary to custom order. It was a one-of-a-kind design. A year ago, the designer who made it passed away. The value of the ring skyrocketed a thousand times over, and it became known as the “Ring of True Love.” Around that same time, my matching ring went missing. I thought I had lost it during a rescue mission. I was frantic, wanting to go back to the fire scene or call the police. Chloe was uncharacteristically gentle that day, telling me it was okay. She said she would always wear hers, and that was proof enough. It made me firmly believe that no matter how cold she acted normally, she still had me in her heart. Now I realize she took it to give to another man. I stood there stunned, and Liam shoved the water cup directly to my lips. “Don’t be polite, drink up.” I couldn’t dodge it in time and swallowed a mouthful. But almost immediately, I realized something was wrong. My vision blurred, and I collapsed onto the sofa. When I regained consciousness, I heard the bizarre sound of splashing water. Liam was laughing. “He’s right outside. Isn’t this incredibly thrilling?” Then, it was Chloe. A hint of annoyance, but mostly the breathy sounds of arousal. “Why did you feed him that drug?” “Don’t like it?” Liam’s voice dropped lower. “Then why are you so wet?” My chest tightened. Forcing my eyes open, I looked through the crack in the door and saw Chloe straddling Liam! Her profile was flushed, her eyes half-closed. It was a look I had never seen before. “I like it. You’re the only one who can give me what I really want.” “If Ethan hadn’t been commended for that rescue back then—right when I was getting canceled online—do you really think I would have married him just to clean up my image?” My whole body trembled. I forced myself to snap fully awake. “But he really is a good man,” Chloe said, smiling without realizing it. “As long as I say no, he absolutely won’t touch me.” Liam’s movements got rougher, and Chloe paused. “Are you jealous? I can count the number of times we’ve actually been intimate on one hand.” “Every time, I just tell him I’m too traumatized and heartbroken over the miscarriage, and he doesn’t dare make a move.” It felt like a knife had been plunged into my chest. The baby! Our baby! How could she? A lump formed in my throat, and I finally let out a cough. A muffled groan came from the other room. “Don’t worry. It’s a strong drug. He definitely just woke up.” Liam wrapped a bedsheet around himself and walked out. “You passed out as soon as you hit the couch yesterday. I couldn’t wake you up. You must be exhausted from work.” I stumbled to my feet, unable to suppress my rage any longer. But just as my fist was about to fly out, my emergency phone rang. Without having the chance to say a single word, I pushed open the door and bolted out, only then realizing it was already morning. They had been doing it right in front of me all night! Enduring the agonizing pain in my chest, I rushed to the scene of the emergency. After putting out the final fire, a message from Chloe suddenly popped up. The content was as short and cold as always:[I’m coming home tonight. Have a bath ready.] I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm:[We need to talk.] Sitting in the firetruck, I kept staring at my phone. My body temperature hadn’t dropped from the fire, but my heart felt ice-cold. Our chat background was the only photo we had together. Scrolling up through the chat history, her messages were always brief, while my replies were always long paragraphs. But they were usually ignored. A teammate playfully slapped my shoulder. “Writing another essay to your icy wife?” In the past, I would have just said that was just her personality. But right now, I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Because it wasn’t true. She had endless passion; she just gave it all to someone else. My teammate paused. “Just kidding, we all know she’s cold on the outside but warm on the inside.” “I even saw her post yesterday. She bought a whole bunch of stuff for you while she was on her business trip. So thoughtful.” “You guys have been married for years and keep things so interesting. I’m jealous.” He handed me his phone. It was a video she posted. A high-end men’s massager, an expensive leather belt, and a bunch of “aphrodisiac” supplements. My heart felt like it had been stabbed again. Last night, at that apartment, those exact items were scattered on the floor, their packaging tossed in the corner. The firetruck stopped. I took a deep breath and jumped out. Whatever my teammate yelled behind me, I couldn’t hear it anymore. When I first walked through the door of my home, I stood in the entryway in a daze for a long time. Hanging on the wall straight ahead was our massive wedding portrait. That was the only decision I ever made for this house. Everything else, the entire renovation, was chosen by Chloe. The gray walls and minimalist furniture made the place feel as cold as a hotel. I used to think she just liked that style. Now I think, maybe she just never saw this place as a home. I sat there in a haze for a long time, until the lock clicked. Chloe walked in, ignored me as usual, headed straight for the bathroom, and then poked her head out: “Didn’t I tell you to run a bath?” In the past, even if I had been on missions for three days straight, I would have had everything ready for her. The fridge would be stocked with her favorite food, her clothes laid out, and the toothpaste already squeezed onto her toothbrush. But right now, I just pinched the bridge of my nose. “I forgot.” Chloe paused, glancing at my uniform that I still hadn’t taken off. “Whatever. I won’t hold it against you this time.” A moment later, she walked over and handed me a small keychain. “Brought you a gift.” I suddenly let out a laugh. “Is this the only thing you got?” Chloe froze, a flash of secret smugness crossing her face. “Did you peek at my videos again?” “I gave the rest to the staff. My new movie is coming out, it’s normal to build good relationships.” She sat down as she spoke, and as if remembering something, leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. I stiffened instantly. In public, Chloe would actively link arms with me. But as long as there were no outsiders, she wouldn’t even hold my hand. I couldn’t even remember the last time she kissed me—it had been months. “There’s a new reality show. They invited us to be on it together.” She spoke calmly, while my heart sank. “The producers want to film our daily life. Especially yours.” So that was it. She just needed something from me. I wanted to push her away, but she kept pressing closer, her breasts brushing against my arm. As a young, healthy man who hadn’t touched his wife in six months, my body’s physical reaction was completely out of my control. But I took a deep breath, steadied her, and turned my face away. “I can’t do it. We’re getting a divo—” Before I could finish, Chloe had already stood up. “Another mission? I really don’t get it. Saving cats, dogs, fires… everything is more important than me?” She grabbed her bag and headed for the door, shooting a sarcastic glance at my shorts. “Don’t even think about touching me ever again.” The door slammed shut with a deafening bang, leaving the house dead quiet. In the past, I would have chased after her immediately and coaxed her until she wasn’t mad anymore. But today, I just sat there for a long time. Then, I unlocked my phone, selected her manager’s contact, and sent:[This is the divorce agreement. Have her sign it.] Chloe had put me on “Do Not Disturb” a long time ago. Her manager was the only one who could reliably reach her. Turning off my phone, I looked around the house and realized there was nothing I wanted to take with me. Finally, I walked into the nursery. It was the only place that had any warmth, the only place I felt any attachment to. I had set it up during Chloe’s first—and only—pregnancy. After sitting there for a while, I left. I threw the wedding portrait in the trash on my way out and moved into the firehouse dorms. Two days later, my captain pushed a file across the desk to me. “Think carefully about what we talked about last time.” Not long after, her manager called me, sounding anxious and panicked. “Ethan, you know how Chloe is. She acts tough, but she really cares about you.” “I secretly saw it once. She has an alt account dedicated entirely to documenting your relationship. If you saw it, you’d understand.” After hanging up, I hesitated, but eventually clicked on it anyway. When the page loaded, I froze completely. The very first photo was of our bed in our master bedroom. A man was lying there, wearing my uniform. But it wasn’t me. I had lost a uniform a while back. I looked everywhere for it but couldn’t find it. I ended up getting disciplined by my superiors and stationed in a remote area for six months as punishment. With trembling hands, I kept scrolling. Different scenic locations, sweet captions. In seven years of marriage, we had never taken a vacation together. I kept looking at the photos, one by one, feeling a sharp pain as if someone were violently squeezing my heart. For our second anniversary, she and Liam were at the beach. But she told me she was on set filming and didn’t even have time to answer my calls. On my last birthday, she and Liam were at a bonfire party. But that night she said she was in the mountains with no cell service, so she didn’t even send me a simple “Happy Birthday.” Then came New Year’s Eve, which was also the day after her miscarriage. I had stayed by her bed in the hospital all night, but she insisted I go home and rest. It wasn’t until I got home that I finally broke down and sobbed. Before that, I had to stay strong because I thought she was hurting more than I was. But in the photos, she and Liam were at a hotel that night. I leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down until I sat on the floor, unable to stop shaking. Every single photo was like a needle plunging into my heart. I dialed her manager’s number again. “Changed your mind about the divorce, right? Good thing I haven’t shown her the papers yet,” he said. “Give the phone to her,” my voice was so hoarse it didn’t even sound like me. He hesitated for a second, then handed it over. “I knew you’d agree,” she chuckled softly. “That show is going to be good for you too…” “Sign the divorce agreement,” I cut her off, enunciating every word. “I’m done dragging this out.” “You—” I hung up immediately, terrified that if I heard one more syllable, I would turn into some bitter, desperate ex and start demanding answers from her. The next second, a teammate burst into the room. “Fire emergency! Move out!” I shot up. The firetruck sirens blared the entire way. When we arrived, I realized it was Liam’s apartment building. I took a deep breath, tightened my grip on my gear, and rasped, “Let’s go.” The smoke was thick. My team and I felt our way through and found Liam collapsed in a corner. I hauled him onto my back and dragged him out of the building. While the fire was still burning, I coordinated the team while listening to one of the guys analyzing the situation: “The cause of the fire was a room full of those electronic adult toys! Left them plugged in too long and they caught fire. What an absolute degenerate.” I closed my eyes. Suddenly, Liam’s screams echoed from behind me: “My baby is still in there!” Everyone froze. The next second, a car crashed through the police barricade and slammed on the brakes. Chloe sprinted out. She threw herself beside Liam, wailing hysterically. It was more genuine than any acting performance she had ever given. I withdrew my gaze and pulled my fire mask back down. A teammate asked, “There’s a kid? But the fire’s even bigger now.” I cut him off. “As long as there’s a chance, we don’t give up.” We charged back into the burning building. The heat waves were even more brutal than before, roasting our skin, but we still scoured every single corner. Finally, the commander’s voice crackled over the earpiece from outside: “We got it out of him. The trapped victim is under the coffee table.” The coffee table? Confused, I felt my way to the coffee table, reached under, and grabbed—a doll! It felt like someone had punched me hard in the chest. “It’s just a doll,” I said into the comms. Liam’s screams erupted through the earpiece: “That’s our baby!” A teammate couldn’t help but curse: “That bastard—” Before he could finish, a massive explosion tore through the room. With a deafening BOOM, a colossal shockwave blasted us straight out of the third-floor window. Laying on the ground, looking through my soot-covered mask, I saw Chloe running toward us. The next second, she yanked the doll from my charred hands and yelled to the people behind her: “It’s okay! Our baby is safe!” I closed my eyes.

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