Category: English

The year I went blind, I was six. It was the same year I found Leo, half-frozen and left for dead in the snow. I begged my mother to save him, lying that I needed a companion, someone to be my eyes. Later, when we were alone, I whispered a promise in his ear. “I don’t want a guide dog. You just have to live. Go wherever you want to go.” But Leo stayed. After my mother remarried and left, he became the only thing I had. He watched over me as I grew up, my constant guide, my walking cane, my eyes. For my sake, he even abandoned his breathtaking talent for painting to study medicine, to become an ophthalmologist. But even after he became a brilliant eye surgeon, my world remained dark. Then came my 25th birthday. That was the day Sloane, a woman Leo once called his kindred spirit, won a major national art prize. He locked himself in his study. I could hear the rustle of paper, the sharp, angry sounds of tearing. “Just writing you a birthday card,” he said, his voice tight, strained with an emotion he was trying to hide. I smiled, wanting to go to him, to kiss the sadness away. But just as I took a step, a line of text scrolled across the darkness of my vision, stark and terrifying. “Don’t be a fool, little blind girl. He’s tearing up his paintings. On the back of every single one, he’s written ‘Audrey, go die.’” “Stop. Don’t take another step. There’s a frayed electrical cord on the floor in front of you. If you step on it, you’ll be electrocuted.” I froze, just for a second. Then I lifted my chin, forced a bright smile, and took a confident step forward. “Leo,” I called out cheerfully. “Whatever you wished for, I know it will come true.” 1 I walked carefully, deliberately, making sure I wouldn’t miss the frayed wire. Suddenly, Leo’s voice cut through the air. “Audrey!” It was a choked sound, thick with tears, but he didn’t say anything more. I pretended not to notice, my tone light and soothing. “Is your head hurting again? Come here, let me rub your temples.” The text in my mind flashed frantically. “Stop walking, you idiot! The wire is right at your feet!” Good. Right where I can’t miss it. But just as I was about to lower my foot, the doorbell rang, a shrill, piercing sound. It was followed by the violent scrape of a chair being shoved back. “Watch out!” A powerful force slammed into me, throwing me to the floor. My head cracked against the hardwood, my brain rattling inside my skull. The pain was a blinding white light in my endless darkness. Leo’s trembling hands helped me up. “Audrey… I’m so sorry… there was a live wire.” The text was a stream of curses. “What the hell is wrong with you, Leo?! You’re the one who wanted her dead, so why are you shaking now?” My own heart ached. You fool, I thought. Why did you have to go soft? I swallowed the pain and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s my fault, I’m the one who can’t see. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.” The text exploded. “Is she crazy? Apologizing after he tried to kill her?!” But I knew. I knew that right now, Leo was in more pain than I was. I could hear his ragged, broken sobs. He opened his mouth to say something else, but his phone buzzed. A woman’s voice, clear even through the phone. “I know you’re home, Leo. I’m not leaving until I see you.” A pause. “Please. Think of this… as the last time.” I recognized her voice from the TV interviews. Sloane. The brilliant painter. She and Leo had met years ago, volunteering at a community arts program. He told me he’d found a kindred spirit. Sloane once told me that Leo’s art had more soul than anything she’d ever seen. But now, she was a celebrated artist, and he was a doctor trapped with a blind girl. Leo hated being a doctor. After every long surgery, he’d be sick for hours. His hand tightened on mine, a desperate grip, then suddenly released. He stumbled toward the door. The force of him pulling away sent me staggering backward. Disoriented, the back of my head connected with the sharp corner of the dining table. A warm, sticky wetness began to seep through my hair. “Leo,” I whispered, my voice weak. “It hurts…” The front door slammed shut. My hearing has always been sharp, a small compensation for my lack of sight. Even with the door closed, I could hear their muffled, desperate voices from the hallway. Sloane was crying. “Her eyes are a lost cause, and you know it! You can’t fix them! Those hands of yours… they have more talent than mine ever will!” she pleaded. “Come with me. Meet my mentor. It’s not too late, Leo, as long as you just…” “Sloane,” Leo’s voice was shaking as he cut her off. “I owe her my life.” He took a ragged breath. “She’s blind. If I leave her here… where would I go?” Sloane’s voice was filled with sorrow. “What about your dream? What about… me?” A long, heavy silence passed before Leo answered, his voice raw. “No matter what happens… we’ll always be kindred spirits.” I heard her sob, then the sound of her running down the stairs. “I won’t come back again… If you change your mind, use this to find my mentor.” Lying there on the floor, dizzy from the blow to my head, my mind drifted back to when I was thirteen. Some kids from the blind school had cornered me, and I’d come home with bruises blooming on my skin. Leo had been so furious, he’d insisted on transferring to the school himself, just to protect me. He, a brilliant student, giving up a normal high school to spend his days in a place that taught Braille and cane navigation. He stayed up all night, every night, just to keep up with the advanced curriculum of his old school. Then, when I was fifteen, my mother came to say goodbye. She was getting married again. She clutched my hands, her own tears splashing onto my face. “Audrey, your new stepfather… he can’t help me raise a blind child. It’s been so hard, you have to understand, don’t you?” Her voice was a pathetic whine. “Besides, I found Leo for you. He should be the one to take care of you!” She left with her suitcase, leaving me the old house and Leo. He was only eighteen, taking care of a blind girl, and the stress wore him down until he was a bundle of nerves and exhaustion. I used to cry and beg him to leave, to save himself. But he would just smile and stroke my hair. “Little crybaby. Look at the swallows nesting under the eaves. They always come in pairs. One can’t make it without the other.” But now, the little swallow was tired. He deserved to fly away on his own. I was just a blind girl nobody wanted. If Leo hadn’t held my hand all these years, I would have died a long time ago. I just had to make sure I died somewhere he’d never find me. Otherwise, the guilt would crush him. 2 I pressed a hand to the back of my head, smearing the sticky blood, and managed to pull myself to my feet just as the door opened. “What happened to you?” Leo’s voice was hoarse. “Where did all this blood come from?” The text flashed in my vision. “Is he serious? He’s the one who knocked her over!” I tried to smile. “I’m sorry. I can’t see, I must have tripped over something.” The words were barely out of my mouth when a glass shattered at my feet. “Audrey! How many years have you lived in this house? You still don’t know your way around?” I could hear his heavy, ragged breathing. I clutched the hem of my sleeve, my heart sinking. “I’m sorry, Leo. I’m just useless.” He went to the hall closet and pulled out the white cane that had been gathering dust for years. He grabbed my arm and started dragging me out the door. I couldn’t keep up, stumbling, nearly falling down the porch steps several times, but he didn’t slow down. “Leo, where are we going?” I cried, pulling back in fear. He stopped so abruptly that I slammed my face into his back. I felt a warm trickle from my nose. As I fumbled to wipe away the blood, I heard his voice, frayed and broken. “Audrey! There are millions of blind people in the world! Why can they live normal lives with a cane, but you can’t?” His voice cracked. “I’m not your guide dog! I can’t be your dog forever!” A fist seemed to clench around my heart. He gave me a hard shove from behind, and his cold words drifted back on the wind. “If you don’t learn how to walk the sidewalk on your own tonight, don’t bother coming home.” Then he was gone. His scent, his presence, everything vanished. All I could hear was the wind, the rush of traffic, and the murmurs of passersby. “Is she blind? What’s she doing out here? Trying to get hit so she can sue someone?” Darkness and panic swallowed me whole. I clutched the cane, fighting the urge to scream, and whispered his name under my breath. “Leo, I’m so scared.” When I was little, right after I lost my sight, I could never get used to it. I’d wake up to a world of black and start crying hysterically. Leo would always be the first one in my room, his hand finding mine in the dark. “I’m here. Don’t be scared, I’m right here.” Now, only the wind answered. The text in my mind was a torrent of fury. “Unbelievable! He was the one who swore she’d never need a cane, that he’d be her eyes forever! That bastard!” I wiped away a tear. No, it’s not like that. I’d long forgotten how to use a cane, how to feel for the textured paving of the sidewalk. A blind girl like me… I must be such a burden to him. I walked blindly, tapping the ground, moving toward the loudest sound—the blare of car horns at a busy intersection. Maybe if a car hit me, Leo could finally be that free swallow. But the impact never came. Instead, strong arms yanked me back, pulling me into a fierce embrace. Leo’s body was trembling. His voice was laced with despair. “Audrey, you’re blind, not stupid! Why can’t you learn?” His voice broke. “Out of everyone in the world… why did a blind girl have to be the one who found me?” Why? You fool. Then why are you still holding on to me? I finally broke, the sobs tearing out of me. “You’re right, I’m not stupid! So just go! I don’t want you taking care of me anymore!” When I was five, my parents were getting divorced. They fought every day about who would be stuck with me. They were so busy fighting they didn’t even notice I had a fever high enough to burn away my sight. A child nobody wants can’t even keep her own eyes, I thought back then. That’s why, when I saw Leo abandoned in the snow, my heart broke for him. I didn’t want there to be one more unwanted child in the world who couldn’t even keep his eyes. Leo’s arms tightened around me, his grip weak. “Okay, I’m sorry. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “If I don’t take care of you, are you going to let a car kill you?” He led me home. He never mentioned the cane again. But I knew he spent more and more time staring silently at the canvases locked away in his study. The next day, I hid in my room and made a call. The person on the other end exploded as soon as she heard my voice. “Why are you bothering me? I have no legal obligation to you anymore!” I sniffled, my nose burning. “Mom… I don’t need you to take care of me. Could you just… pretend to take me in? Just for a little while?” After I swore up and down that I wouldn’t be a burden, she finally agreed, saying that for old times’ sake, she’d pick me up after my half-sister got back from summer camp. I hung up the phone and smiled. It was good. My mother had a new child to love. And Leo could finally get rid of me. 3 When I knocked on Leo’s study door, I heard him frantically putting something away. “What is it? Did you lose something again?” His voice was sharp with irritation. I swallowed hard, then forced a playful smile. “Leo, my mom called. She said she’s doing really well now and feels terrible about everything. She wants me to come live with her. I said yes.” Disbelief colored his tone. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” “I want to live with my mother,” I repeated, my voice steady. He exploded. “Audrey, have you forgotten what she did to you? Haven’t you had enough of her cruelty?” Of course I hadn’t forgotten. In the years after the court gave her custody, she was always out on dates. Sometimes she’d be gone for days, forgetting to even leave money for food. A young Leo would go out in the dead of winter to collect empty bottles, using the change to buy a piece of bread that he’d feed entirely to me. He was just a boy, his own stomach cramping with hunger, but he’d pat my back and lie through his teeth. “It’s okay. I just ate too much.” I found Leo because I wanted him to live. But chained to me, he hadn’t had a single good day. I stood my ground, and Leo’s anger boiled over, but he refused to give in. Sighing inwardly at his stubbornness, I called Sloane. “Please,” I begged her. “Try talking to him one more time.” The day Sloane called him, I had just returned from another fruitless eye exam. The doctor’s sigh was heavy with finality. “This eye condition… if even Dr. Evans can’t do anything, I’m afraid this is how it will be for the rest of her life.” Leo’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. “Audrey, why do you have to be so useless?” Guilt washed over me. All I could say was, “I’m sorry.” Later, I heard Sloane’s heavy voice on the phone with him. “Leo, I’m leaving with my mentor in a few days. Once I’m gone… there won’t be another chance.” A pause. “Is this really… how you want to live the rest of your life?” Leo stared at me, his gaze so intense it felt like he could see right through me. Suddenly, his control snapped. He stormed into his study, grabbed something, and ran out of the house. Listening to the door slam, I felt a strange sense of peace. A day passed, and Leo didn’t come back. Sloane sent me a voice message. “Thank you for letting him go. He’s a natural. My mentor is incredibly impressed.” I was so happy. But I hadn’t eaten anything all day, and the hunger was becoming unbearable. This time, when Leo left, he’d forgotten to leave snacks out where I could easily find them. I used my phone’s voice command to order takeout, but the front door was locked from the outside. Night fell, and Leo still wasn’t back. Acid churned in my stomach. I fumbled my way into the kitchen, trying to find something to eat. But this is how useless a blind person is. I don’t know what I knocked over, but the kitchen caught fire. I scrambled to put it out, but I couldn’t even aim the water in the right direction. The flames spread, and thick smoke filled my lungs. I collapsed, my skin growing numb to the searing heat. “You worthless thing, Audrey,” I sobbed, crawling desperately toward where I thought the door was. “Don’t you die in here!” If Leo came back to find my charred body, he would never, ever recover. The text in my mind screamed directions. “This way, blind girl! Crawl this way, to the left!” I scrambled in the direction it told me, but the smoke was too thick. My consciousness began to fade. When I woke up, I was in a hospital. Leo arrived soon after, with Sloane right behind him. “I was only gone for one day,” Leo murmured, his voice ragged with exhaustion. “Why do you always manage to do this to yourself?” My hands twisted in the starchy sheets. “I’m sorry…” A police officer stood by the bed, his voice stern as he addressed Leo. “How can you call yourself her guardian? How could you leave a blind person home alone?” He gestured at me. “Do you have any idea how close she came to burning to death?” I opened my mouth to defend him, but then I heard Leo’s hollow voice. “Is this it? Every time I try to take a step forward, you pull a stunt like this to remind me that I can never leave your side?” At that moment, Sloane shrieked. “Audrey!” Her voice was sharp with accusation. “You deliberately had me call him, and just when he was about to agree, you do this! You wanted him to feel guilty, to trap him here forever, didn’t you?” I couldn’t see the raw anguish in Leo’s eyes, but I could feel it. And suddenly, I started to laugh. “So what if I did? As long as my eyes are like this, he owes me. He has to be my dog for the rest of his life. Why else do you think I rescued him in the first place?”

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The night my childhood best friend, bankrupt and broken, was about to have her virginity auctioned off, I didn’t raise a single paddle for her. I just sat there and watched. Then I canceled our arranged marriage and flew halfway across the world. I did it because, in my last life, I saved her, and she accused me of holding it over her head. After we got married, she treated me like a stranger for years, only to have twins with the man she truly loved. She even let their children poison me. As I lay dying, her perfect little family of four stood over me. “Finally,” she’d said, “our family can be together.” I died full of hate. This time, I decided to get out of their way and let them have their happy ending. 01 “Next up for auction, the virginity of the former heiress to the Sinclair fortune, Ms. Clara Sinclair.” The burning in my stomach vanished. I snapped my eyes open. I was back at the auction. The night they sold Clara’s virginity. Looking around at the familiar, opulent room, I realized I’d been reborn. On the stage, Clara’s eyes found mine, pleading for help. This time, I didn’t meet her gaze. I just looked down at my phone and scrolled. In my last life, the second she was brought out, I bought out the entire auction just to save her. We’d had an arranged engagement since we were kids, and the Sinclair family, grateful that I’d saved her from public humiliation, pushed for us to get married immediately. I’d been in love with her my whole life, so I’d happily agreed. But after the wedding, Clara’s face was a permanent mask of cold indifference. I thought it was just the trauma of her family’s downfall, so I tried to be even more loving, more patient. I was wrong. It wasn’t until I was on my deathbed, poisoned by her twin children—children she had with her one true love, Ethan—that I finally understood. She didn’t just not love me; she despised me. “If it weren’t for you and your moral grandstanding,” she had sneered, “Ethan and I would have been together years ago.” “Do you know why I never let you touch me? Because every single second I had to spend in the same room as you made my skin crawl.” “Now that you’re dying, our family of four can finally be together.” That’s when I knew. She hated me to her very core. “Two hundred thousand!” “Three hundred thousand!” The shouts from the bidders pulled me back to the present. Most of them were old, greasy CEOs, their eyes devouring Clara on the stage. She looked like she was about to cry. Her eyes met mine again, this time filled with the desperation of a drowning woman clinging to a piece of driftwood. I remained perfectly still, making no move to bid. Her virginity finally sold for a million dollars to Mark Sterling, the fifty-something CEO of Sterling Corp. She collapsed onto the stage floor. Everyone in our circle knew about Sterling. He was old, but his tastes were notoriously depraved. He had a reputation for taking beautiful young women and breaking them. Sterling sent his men to collect her. As they led her past me, her eyes burned with a hatred I recognized. It was the same look she’d given me as I died in our last life. I just hadn’t expected to see it so soon this time around. “Why didn’t you save me?” Her voice was laced with an entitled sort of fury. I knew then that she remembered, too. She was reborn, just like me. “Sorry,” I said, a smirk playing on my lips. “Not interested in your virginity.” I gestured to the diamond necklace that was now being displayed on the stage. “This, however, I am interested in.” With a casual flick of my wrist, I raised my paddle and bought it for a ridiculous price, just to make a point. Clara’s face contorted with rage. “We grew up together! We were engaged! You’d rather buy a stupid necklace than save me?” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Your virginity? What’s that worth? This necklace, on the other hand, is a solid investment.” “You!” She was sputtering, her eyes blazing. The idea that I, who had always been at her beck and call, would speak to her this way clearly short-circuited her brain. “Julian, stop this,” she pleaded, her tone shifting. “It’s not too late. Just save me, and we can pretend this never happened.” It’s true what they say: the ones who are loved unconditionally are always the most reckless. I felt a cold sneer form in my heart. In my last life, everyone knew I adored Clara. I stood by her even after her family lost everything. And how did she repay me? She ignored me, refused to consummate our marriage, and secretly started a family with another man. The memory was a bitter pill. “Mr. Sterling,” I called out, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Aren’t you going to collect your prize for the evening?” 02 Sterling, looking bemused, finally registered that Clara was still standing by my table. He gestured for his men to take her away. Clara shot me a look of pure contempt before being led out. After the auction, I went to her parents’ house. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair’s eyes were filled with worry. The moment they saw me, they both fell to their knees. “Julian, please, you have to save Clara,” Mrs. Sinclair begged. “She’s our only child. This is all our fault.” Looking at the two of them, I felt a pang of sympathy. In my last life, when they found out I’d been poisoned, they were the ones who called the ambulance. They were too late, but they tried. They had known me since I was a boy and had always treated me kindly. After Clara and I married, they treated me like their own son. I told them what had happened and gave them a debit card with a million dollars on it, telling them to go get their daughter back themselves. Sterling, for all his vices, wasn’t a monster. The Sinclair family had once been powerful, and he would likely give them that much courtesy. Then, I told them I wanted to break the engagement. I also made them promise not to tell Clara where the million dollars came from. “Julian, you and Clara have always been so close,” Mr. Sinclair said, confused. “Why the sudden change of heart?” “She’s in love with someone else,” I explained. “And they’ve been together for a long time.” Their eyes widened in shock. “Is there some misunderstanding? Clara has never mentioned a boyfriend to us.” “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” They were reluctant, but my sincerity must have convinced them. They agreed to talk to Clara when she got home. Clara was brought home safely, and I started the process of applying for a visa. I was ready to leave this whole mess behind. But while I was waiting for the paperwork to clear, I ran into her at a party. Everyone there had heard about what happened at the auction, but no one dared to bring it up. They just shot nervous glances between me and Clara. The second she saw me, her eyes filled with that familiar hatred. “Julian, playing hard to get has its limits. Don’t come crying to me when you want me back.” I didn’t understand. I was stepping aside, giving them what they wanted. Why was she still trying to humiliate me? I just smiled faintly and said nothing. She seemed to lose interest and walked away. Later that night, as the party was in full swing, Clara’s great love, Ethan, stormed in. He marched right up to me and punched me in the face. I stumbled backward, crashing to the floor. “Julian, what kind of a man are you?” he roared. “Your fiancée’s virginity is being sold, and you just sit there? You bought a stupid necklace instead!” “Clara’s life would be ruined if she married someone like you!” I glanced over at Clara, who was watching from a corner. The moment she saw Ethan, her eyes lit up with a tenderness I had never seen before. My mind drifted back. In our last life, she had never looked at me with anything but disdain. The only time she ever smiled at me was when she needed my help—and even then, it was a pained, forced expression. And the only time she needed my help was when Ethan was in trouble. She would humble herself, play the part of the loving wife, all for him. I used to think that if I was just good enough to her, one day she would see me. I forgot that you can’t melt a block of ice. My silence seemed to enrage Ethan even more. He grabbed the collar of my shirt and hauled me to my feet. “Are you deaf? I’m talking to you! Are you even human? You just watched your fiancée get sold off like cattle!” The other guests started whispering. “Julian is usually so obsessed with Clara. How could he not even be willing to spend a million to save her?” The taste of blood filled my mouth. I finally snapped back to reality and shoved his hands off me. “Why do you seem more concerned about my fiancée than I am?” I countered, my voice dangerously low. “Why didn’t you save her at the auction?” 03 The room went quiet. Everyone in our circle knew about my engagement to Clara. They also knew how she had always accepted my devotion as her due. Everyone had assumed we were already a couple. The sudden appearance of Ethan threw everything into question. All eyes were now on him and Clara. Ethan stammered, caught off guard. “I… I just couldn’t stand by and watch you do nothing! I don’t have that kind of money! If I did, of course I would have saved her!” Clara’s face paled as she looked at me. “You knew.” In my last life, I didn’t find out about her and Ethan until our wedding day. Ethan showed up, his eyes red from crying, and Clara’s eyes filled with tears, too. Her parents were there, so the wedding went on as planned. But on our wedding night, she ran off to be with him. She told me I owed them that, that if it weren’t for me and my “hero complex,” they would have been together. But when I finally couldn’t take it anymore and asked for a divorce, she refused, claiming she didn’t want to break her parents’ hearts. I loved her, so I waited, hoping she would come around. But my patience only made her bolder. She went abroad for a “business trip,” had his children, and then brought them home to live with us. When I found out the truth and confronted her, her reply was ice-cold. “I’m married to you, so what if I have Ethan’s children?” And when I finally decided to leave her for good, her twin children poisoned me. A bitter smile twisted my lips. “If I didn’t know, were you planning on playing me for a fool forever? After all, your true love couldn’t afford to save you, could he?” I shot a provocative glance at Ethan. Before he could speak, Clara jumped in. “You’re lying! Ethan was the one who scraped together a million dollars to save me from Sterling!” At that, I couldn’t help it. I laughed out loud. The audacity of some people was truly something to behold. I had specifically told her parents not to mention my name, because I didn’t want her to feel indebted to me again. I never thought Ethan would swoop in and take the credit. “What are you laughing at? You think that money came from you?” Ethan sneered, trying to sound confident. “Julian, you’re a heartless bastard. You don’t deserve anyone’s love.” I chuckled. “You’re right, it wasn’t me. But it’s pretty impressive that you managed to come up with a million dollars in just a few hours. Especially for a guy who usually can’t even scrape together ten thousand.” 04 A flicker of panic crossed Ethan’s face. Clara froze, her eyes widening slightly. “Clara, don’t listen to him,” Ethan said quickly, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a series of track marks on his arm. They looked horrifying. “I got the money by volunteering for a high-risk medical trial.” The crowd gasped. Clara’s face hardened as she glared at me. “You do nothing to help, and now you’re slandering the person who did! I want you to apologize to Ethan!” Ethan was a scholarship student Clara had sponsored through college. His family was poor. In my last life, he never worked a day after graduation because Clara supported him. Even after her own family went bankrupt, I gave her a huge monthly allowance, enough to maintain her old lifestyle. Most of that money went to him. The whispers started again. “No wonder Clara loves this guy. He really stepped up when it mattered.” “A million dollars is nothing to Julian, and he wouldn’t even lift a finger.” “Clara, we support you! You can’t marry Julian.” “If he’s like this now, imagine what he’d be like after you’re married!” They all condemned me, as if I were the villain. But in my last life, I had cared for Clara for years, and in the end, she let her children murder me. What had I done to deserve that? I frowned. It was such an obvious lie, but everyone seemed to be buying it. What medical trial pays a million dollars, and pays it out in a matter of hours? These rich kids had no idea how hard it was for a normal person to earn that kind of money. Just then, Clara took Ethan’s hand and looked at me defiantly. “Julian, I’m officially breaking our engagement!” Then she kissed him, and he kissed her back passionately. Even now, she thought she was irreplaceable to me, that this would be the ultimate threat. “You can’t break the engagement!” Just as I was about to respond, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair burst into the room. “Clara, we thought you and Julian were just having a little fight,” her mother cried. “Julian was the one who gave us a million dollars to save you! That proves he still cares about you!” “He told us you were in love with someone else, and we didn’t believe him. But it’s true.” Her father pointed a trembling finger at Ethan and threw a stack of photos at his feet. “This man is a drug addict!” Clara seemed to barely register what her father had said. She just stared at me in disbelief. “Was it really you who gave them the money?” I didn’t answer her question. I just said, my voice cold as stone, “I agree to break the engagement. From now on, you and I have nothing to do with each other.” Then I turned and walked out of the room. That night, Clara stood outside my house for hours, but I didn’t even look out the window. I sent a text to both our parents, formally ending the engagement. The next day, my visa came through. I was on the first flight out.

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The moment my birth parents found me, bringing the girl who had stolen my life with them, I had a wild Siberian tiger pinned to the forest floor, my knee pressed firmly against its neck as I injected a tranquilizer. They saw me, covered in dirt, taming a predator with my bare hands, and their faces went white with terror. My sister—the girl who had taken my place—was pale with fear. “Mom, Dad, I’m scared! We came to find my sister, but… what is that beast doing here?” My parents shot a wary glance at the tiger, then rushed to comfort their precious fake daughter. “Don’t worry, Vivian, darling,” my mother cooed. “We’re only taking your sister home. We’re not bringing… that… with us.” They instinctively shielded Vivian behind them, as if I were more dangerous than the man-eater at my feet. I let out a short, sharp laugh, patting the tiger’s belly. My gaze fell on Vivian, cold as ice. “You should be scared. Drop any ridiculous ideas you have, or I’ll tear you to pieces.” 1. The air was thick with a dead silence, broken only by the low growl of the beast beneath me. The impeccably dressed middle-aged couple stared in horror at the fanged tiger, their legs trembling. They instinctively shielded the terrified girl, Vivian, taking shuffling steps backward. Tears welled in the woman’s eyes, her voice shaking. “Arden! This is your sister! We all came to take you home. How could you say such a thing?” She wanted to step closer but was paralyzed by the sight of the predator. Her eyes flickered over my worn, tattered clothes, and a flash of disgust crossed her face. I ignored them, finished injecting the sedative, and released the pressure on the tiger. Then, I turned my cold gaze to the uninvited guests. “Isn’t this my home?” The porcelain doll of a girl behind them, who looked to be my age, trembled even more violently. The man, holding her hand tightly, spoke in a panicked voice. “Arden, I’m your biological father, Richard Vance. It was our mistake when you were born… we took home the wrong child. All these years, you’ve suffered out here…” His voice caught with a sob. “We’re here today to bring you home. We’ll make up for all our past negligence…” “Which home?” I cut him off with a sneer, my eyes sweeping over to Vivian. She immediately wiped the venom from her expression, her eyes turning red as she shrank behind the man I now knew was my brother, Ethan. Vivian was the daughter of their former nanny. Twenty years ago, we were born on the same day. To give her own child a better life, the nanny swapped us, dreaming her daughter would become the Vance family heiress. As for me, she tossed me into the deep mountains like a piece of trash, meant to be fodder for wild beasts. Fortunately, I was born with the ability to communicate with animals. It’s how I survived. It’s how I became the Queen of the Beasts. This forest… this is my real home. “Sister… I didn’t mean for this to happen…” Vivian stammered, her face ashen. My mother, who had supposedly come to beg me to return, rushed to her side. “Vivian, darling, this has nothing to do with you. When she comes back, you’ll just have an older sister to protect you. You’ll always be Mommy and Daddy’s precious baby!” Ethan’s face was grim as he stared at me. “Isn’t Vivian a victim in all this, too? We’re all family now. Can’t you stop picking at her wounds?” Richard’s tone grew impatient. “Just come with us. The Vance family can certainly afford to raise you. We can’t have people thinking we’d abandon our own daughter…” Watching their synchronized performance was grating. It was as if my very existence was a threat to their happy family. If it weren’t for their precious reputation, would they have ever even remembered they had a biological daughter? But the life I’d lived had forged me into something far stronger than the delicate flower they saw. I saw the dark, vicious glint in Vivian’s eyes, and I smiled. If I can tame a tiger, how hard can it be to handle a pampered little princess? I was done with their phony sentimentality. I pointed to the beast on the ground, now licking its paws. “Fine. I’ll go back with you. But he comes with me.” “Absolutely not!” My mother’s face drained of color. My father’s brow furrowed. “That’s absurd! What if he…” Ethan met the tiger’s gaze for half a second and immediately backed down. “That’s… that’s too dangerous, Arden. Anything you want, I’ll buy it for you when we get back. Just… let’s not do this…” Vivian burst into tears. “Brother, I’m scared! I don’t want a beast in our house!” I ignored her double-edged comment, casually stroking the tiger’s fur. “Scared already? He’s much better behaved than some of the two-faced cubs in these mountains.” My voice hardened. “And he’s not a beast. He’s my only family.” I looked at my so-called parents. “You want me in your gilded cage? Fine. But we play by my rules.” “Either he and I walk through the Vance family doors together…” “Or you can all go back the way you came.” The silence stretched for a full ten seconds. “Daddy! Mommy! You see?!” Vivian’s wail shattered the quiet. She clutched Ethan’s arm, her body trembling, her head bowed to avoid looking at me and the tiger. “If sister doesn’t want to come home, she should just say so! What good does it do to scare you and Mom to death? Ethan, let’s just go, please… I’m so, so scared…” She peeked at their reactions through her fingers. My parents’ faces were storm clouds. Between the tiger’s low growl and Vivian’s crying, Richard’s resolve crumbled. “This is ridiculous! It’s a wild animal! Who will be responsible if it hurts someone?” “I will,” I answered flatly. My mother, Eleanor, shrieked at the sight of the tiger’s claws. “Can you afford to be responsible? Arden, look at what you’ve done to Vivian! You’ve terrified her!” “Mom!” Ethan looked from the sobbing Vivian to me, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Dad, Mom, let’s calm down. Maybe Arden…” Vivian looked at Ethan in disbelief, her wails escalating into a desperate shriek. “Ethan! It will eat people! …I get it. If you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave as soon as she comes home…” She had been showered with affection her whole life; the mere suggestion of her leaving sent them into a panic. I watched, my eyes cold, as a triumphant, malicious glint appeared in Vivian’s. “So, have you decided? The tranquilizer is wearing off. My family is getting impatient.” As if on cue, the tiger let out a deep, rumbling growl, sending them all stumbling backward in fear. My father’s expression was ugly. He looked from Vivian to me, clearly weighing his options. “I agree,” he finally ground out. “But it stays in a cage! If anything happens, you are fully responsible, and then you get the hell out of our house!” He flinched as the tiger shifted. “Now, make it be quiet!” “Richard!” my mother gasped, shooting a pained look at Vivian. Vivian’s eyes were filled with tears. “Daddy! It’s going to hurt someone! And when it does…” Richard’s gaze darted to the tiger, his voice low and final. “Enough! This is how it will be!” Vivian’s crying stopped instantly, though her shoulders still trembled with feigned distress. When we arrived at the villa, the servants screamed and scattered at the sight of the tiger. Click. I led the tiger into an iron cage in the backyard and locked it. Vivian sidled up to me, her voice a venomous whisper only I could hear. “A beast is a beast. Even a tiger has to live in a dog kennel if it enters the Vance home. Everything here is mine. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get lost.” I stared at her without a word, then let out a sharp whistle. The tiger’s head shot up. A threatening rumble emanated from its throat as it lunged at the bars, its massive jaws snapping at Vivian. She screamed, scrambling backward, and tripped, landing hard on the ground. “Ahhh! It’s getting out! It’s going to eat me!” she shrieked, tears and snot streaming down her face. “She did it on purpose! She’s trying to kill me!” My parents came running. “Vivian! Are you alright?!” My mother helped her up, her voice a furious hiss directed at me. “Arden! Are you happy now that you’ve made her cry? How can you be so vicious?” My father’s face was ashen with rage. “You haven’t been here a day and you’re already causing chaos!” Ethan stood protectively in front of Vivian, his eyes filled with disappointment. Vivian, gasping for breath, continued her slander. “She… she told me… that she’s the real heiress and that I should get out… or she’d let the tiger… eat me… She said there’s only room for one of us in this house…” Her pathetic act was nauseating. I turned my gaze to the cold iron cage. In a way, it was my cage, too. But having grown up in the mountains, I’ve never been afraid of confinement. A little white rabbit raised in a greenhouse, no matter how pitiful it acts, is no match for a tiger from the wild. I didn’t waste my breath arguing. After calming the tiger, a maid, clearly acting on Vivian’s orders, impatiently showed me to my room. Less than ten minutes later, a notification popped up on my phone. It was a new post from Vivian. “Sister, can you please not let the tiger eat me? I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t fight with you over anything.” The accompanying picture was a close-up of her tear-filled, red-rimmed eyes. Below, a flood of comments from clueless netizens offered her sympathy while calling for a witch hunt against the “evil sister.” Soon, hashtags like #VanceHeiressIsFeral and #JusticeForVivian started trending. I ignored the torrent of online abuse, letting out a small, contemptuous laugh. “How predictable.” Vivian, you’ve basked in the Vance family’s resources, but the only world you know is the tiny patch of sky above your head. You have no idea how vast the real world is. My screen lit up with several encrypted messages. “Boss, the Vances are discreetly investigating our organization.” “Abnormal fund transfers detected from Vivian Vance’s account, traced to an offshore shell company.” That evening, a sharp knock rattled my door. Dinner was an exquisite spread, but the entire family fussed over Vivian, treating me like a complete stranger. Richard slammed his phone down in front of me. The screen was filled with hateful comments. “If you hadn’t insisted on bringing that beast back, the Vance family name wouldn’t be getting dragged through the mud like this! Can’t you learn to be more like Vivian?” “Do you have any idea what your selfishness is costing us? A major project is about to fall through because of this!” Vivian’s voice was smugly sarcastic. “Dad, let it go. Sister came from the backwoods, after all. She’s used to being wild. What would she know about business projects?” My mother’s tone was sharp. “That’s no excuse! Now that you’re home, you’ll follow this family’s rules! For starters, we need to change that name. What kind of girl is called ‘Arden’? It’s ridiculous.” Vivian’s laugh was louder this time. “She’s right, Mom. People might think the Vance heiress is some kind of savage…” For once, Ethan didn’t defend Vivian. Instead, he looked at me with a spark of curiosity. “Arden… how did you subdue that tiger? Have you had training? Maybe for this project…” My father’s expression shifted. I set down my fork and knife, my gaze sweeping meaningfully over Vivian. “When you have no one to protect you, you learn to fend for yourself. After a while, you pick up a few skills. And, of course… you learn to watch out for things that might try to bite you from behind.” Vivian’s face went pale. Her chopsticks clattered to the floor. Her eyes, red-rimmed and fearful, locked on mine. “Sister, even if I did take your place, do you have to bring up that… that beast every time? You’re home now. Mom and Dad will protect you. You don’t have to deal with terrifying animals anymore…” My father’s face darkened instantly. “Arden! That’s enough of your wilderness nonsense. You are a Vance now. Learn some grace and dignity from Vivian! Stop associating with that animal and embarrassing this family!” Vivian chimed in sweetly. “It’s okay, sister. I can teach you about posture and etiquette. You can just learn from me. After all, what are sisters for? I just want you to be better, to be more accepted by everyone.” I was about to be sick. “No, thanks,” I scoffed. “I have no desire to become a two-faced hypocrite.” “And by the way,” I added, my voice dropping, “after your real mother abandoned me, it was the ‘beasts’ you so despise that raised me. Don’t you feel disgusted, putting on this good-person act now?” Vivian’s dam of tears finally broke. “I’m so sorry, sister!” she wailed. “I stole your life! If you really hate me this much, I’ll leave right now…” She always used their favoritism to needle me, but I never played her games. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” My parents’ heads snapped up, their eyes wide with shock and alarm. “Vivian! Don’t talk nonsense!” Ethan frowned at me, his face a mask of disappointment. “Arden! You’ve gone too far! Apologize to Vivian right now! Her health has always been delicate. As her older sister, can’t you show her some grace?” Delicate health? More like weaponized fragility. And what did her health have to do with me? Vivian hid in my mother’s arms, but not before flashing me a triumphant smile. I looked down at my phone, at the information displayed on the screen, and a slow smile spread across my face. A hothouse flower, no matter how skilled at silent assassinations, is no match for a predator from the jungle, who kills with a single, decisive strike. “If you’re leaving, you’d better do it quickly. Once the investigation into your little asset transfers is complete, leaving might not be an option.” I leaned forward, my gaze locking onto her like a cold, sharp blade. The color drained from Vivian’s face. Her eyes darted around frantically. “Sister, what are you talking about? What assets? I… I…” “Mommy, Daddy, I don’t know what she’s saying! Why is she always targeting me?” she shrieked, her voice echoing through the dining room, her body trembling with fear. “You don’t know?” I asked calmly, placing a file on the table for them to see. “Then how did I find out about the payments you’ve been making to your birth mother’s offshore account? The most recent one was three days ago, wasn’t it? What was that, hush money? Or were you just trying to bleed the family dry before skipping town?” Her face was a mask of pure terror. She forgot to even cry. “You… you’re lying! Slandering me! I didn’t! Daddy, Mommy, she’s making it all up!” I kept my voice even. “Is it slander? A quick look at the bank records would clear it all up, wouldn’t it?” I tapped the file. “Would you like me to provide the account number and transfer records, my dear sister?” Vivian looked as if she were being strangled, unable to utter a single word. Tears just streamed down her face as she swayed on her feet. As my family read the report, their faces contorted with shock and horror. Vivian, who had been sitting on her throne of privilege just moments before, looked completely and utterly broken. “You see?” I said, my voice soft. “There’s your precious little princess. Surprised?” Amidst their pale faces and Vivian’s broken sobs, I spoke again. My quiet voice was like a clap of thunder, making their expressions even more priceless. “If I recall correctly, the International Wildlife Conservation Summit is next month. The Vance family is desperate to land that key government partnership, right? A bit difficult without the right leverage, isn’t it?” The color drained from my father’s face. His eyes were wide with disbelief and suspicion. “How do you know that?” I smiled. When faced with a lucrative deal, what was their pathetic favoritism for Vivian really worth? “A Siberian tiger, tamed and part of a cutting-edge conservation research program… is currently locked in your dog kennel.” “The access rights and data from the ‘beast’ you so despise… that is the leverage you need to win this international contract.” “And the person who holds that leverage, the one with absolute authority in the world of conservation…” I picked up a dinner knife, tapping the cold steel with my fingertip. The sharp ping echoed in the silent room, a sound of absolute control. “…is the very person you’ve been trying so hard to ‘fix’… me.” My gaze shifted from the catatonic Vivian, finally landing on my dumbfounded, suspicious parents. “So, shall we have a new discussion about who…” “…makes the rules in this house?”

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1 The summer after graduation, Ethan coaxed me into bed. After that first taste, he became insatiable, tangling his life with mine for seven long years. My friends all laughed at how completely whipped he was. “Just marry him already,” they’d say. “The guy would literally die for you.” Then, one night, I stumbled upon his secret blog. Thousands of posts, an endless scroll of sick, obsessive devotion. All for a girl in a white dress, delicate and beautiful. His untouchable first love. And I finally understood. For seven years, he’d given me his body, but he’d given his love to someone else. 2 The night I found Ethan’s blog started like any other. He’d just gotten back from a business trip. The door had barely clicked shut behind him before he was pulling me toward the bedroom. He had a high drive, and a week apart had made him ravenous, his movements rough and impatient. By the time he was finished, I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. Ping. A single, sharp notification sound. I watched Ethan grab his phone, his brow furrowing. As he pulled on a jacket to leave, I caught his arm. “Going out this late?” He turned, his voice softening into that familiar, gentle tone he used to soothe me. “Just a quick thing at the office. You go to sleep. Don’t wait up.” Maybe it was a woman’s intuition. Half an hour after he left, I was wide awake. The seed of unease had blossomed into full-blown suspicion. Forcing myself up, I called the security guard at his office building. “Hey, Mark. Are the guys pulling a late one tonight? I was thinking of sending over some food.” “No need, Ms. Wright. Mr. Bush let everyone leave early tonight. The whole place is empty.” “No one’s there at all?” “Not a soul. Is there something I can help you with?” “No,” I said, my voice hollow. “It’s nothing.” I hung up and sat motionless on the edge of the bed. We lived ten minutes from his office, max. It had been thirty minutes. He wasn’t at work. So where was he? 3 Ethan came back the next morning, humming a tune as he unlocked the door, his mood bright and buoyant. He’d brought me pastries from my favorite bakery—an old-school place across town, famous for its quality, but so far away it didn’t even deliver. “Whatever my baby wants,” he said, beaming as he set the box down. “If you wanted the stars, I’d bake them into cookies for you.” I let out a small, forced laugh, shaking my head as if to clear it. I was being paranoid. If I ever suggested Ethan didn’t love me, my friends would be the first to shut me down. “Lily, stop overthinking it,” they’d say. “That man worships the ground you walk on. Could he even function without you?” “In seven years, how many times has he been the one crawling back, begging you to forgive him after a fight?” “Just say yes already. Marry him.” They were right about everything. Ethan had always been the pursuer in our relationship. But they were wrong about one thing. He’d never proposed. “Babe,” he’d said once, his voice sincere, “I don’t want to rush this. I want to give you the world. When my career is truly stable, then I’ll ask you.” I was young then and wasn’t eager to be tied down by marriage myself. So we’d agreed, letting our relationship drift in that undefined space for seven years. As we ate, Ethan scrolled through his phone, a faint, unconscious smile playing on his lips. “What are you looking at that’s making you so happy?” The smile vanished. “Nothing. Just a cat video.” “Let me see.” He quickly locked his phone and pulled me into his arms, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “There’s nothing to see. You’re much better to look at. Are you done eating? Because now, it’s my turn to eat.” In the moment before he pushed me down onto the bed, my eyes caught a glimpse of his screen. A distinctive crimson icon for a blogging app, one used almost exclusively by women. What was that doing on his phone? 4 Once a seed of doubt is planted, it’s impossible to stop it from growing. While Ethan was in the shower, I grabbed his phone. My heart hammered against my ribs. I didn’t have much time, only enough to memorize a username: Fading_Star. The next morning, I locked myself in the study. Using his profile picture and location tags from his main accounts, I cross-referenced and searched. An hour later, I found it. I clicked on the profile. Thousands of posts stretched back for years. It was like opening Pandora’s box. The raw, obsessive longing that poured from the screen was staggering. June 9, 2017. I slept with someone else. But I don’t regret it. You betrayed me first. That was the year Ethan, reeking of whiskey, had stumbled into my dorm room. He’d coaxed my clothes off and tangled us together for the entire night. Our first time. September 1, 2018. I didn’t get into my first-choice school. You think I can’t live without you? You’re wrong. That was the first day of college. Ethan had knelt on the campus lawn with a bouquet of flowers and confessed his love for me, promising to take responsibility for that night. It wasn’t for me. It was because he’d been rejected by the only university he’d wanted to attend. August 7, 2021. You got married? How could you? I will never forgive you. You should burn in hell. That night, Ethan had been brutally rough, fueled by alcohol. He used things on me I wasn’t comfortable with. I’d cried for hours and ended up in the hospital the next day with a fever. December 25, 2023. You’re divorced. Does that mean you’ll finally look back at me? That was the day Ethan, who never celebrated Christmas, posted a picture on Instagram wearing a Santa hat. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely scroll. I jumped to the most recent post, from the night he’d stayed out late. The things you can’t have in your youth will haunt you for a lifetime. The post was accompanied by a photo. A girl in a white dress, ethereal and beautiful. And I finally recognized her. Janice Reddy. Ethan’s childhood friend. The girl next door. I stared at the screen, a profound coldness seeping into my bones, my body trembling uncontrollably. It all clicked into place. In seven years of messy, tangled intimacy, not a single moment of his love had ever belonged to me. Young love, years of secret devotion… anyone would be moved to tears by such a story. Their love was an epic, a force of nature. So, what did that make me? 5 I took screenshots. I recorded videos. I saved everything. That evening, when Ethan came home, he was carrying a bag filled with new toys. He always had a wild imagination, a love for props and scenarios that left me exhausted. “Not tonight,” I said, turning away. “It’s that time of the month.” He paused for a second before pressing against me again. “Then just your hands? Your legs? Please? I’ll be gentle.” “No. I don’t want to.” After a few more attempts, all met with my firm refusal, his good mood soured. He didn’t push it, but the irritation was clear on his face. He brought me a heating pad and made me ginger tea. “Okay, babe. You get some rest. I’m just going to head back to the office to finish something up.” A friend once teased me. “You don’t know how good you have it. A guy only wants you all the time if he’s crazy about you. He’s almost thirty and still acts like a teenager in heat. My husband is like a dead fish.” I used to believe that. Ethan was never shy about his desire for my body, his obsession. But I had forgotten a simple, brutal truth: for a man, sex and love can be two entirely different things. I asked myself a hard question. If I were Ethan, would I be so reckless with someone I truly loved? As his blog post said: You are the moon, untouchable and pure. Just to be bathed in your light is an honor. But our first time was in a cheap hotel room, on scratchy sheets, with a thoughtless, clumsy urgency. The difference between being loved and not being loved. It was a chasm. 6 I followed him. I watched him walk into a small, elegant cake shop. Janice, wearing a pristine white dress, came out to greet him. She looked thrilled, her hand clutching his arm possessively. But Ethan’s reaction was uncharacteristically cold. He gently pushed her away. “The shop is yours now. Don’t contact me again.” Janice just laughed, winding her arm back around his. “I don’t believe you. You couldn’t stay away from me if you tried.” They went back and forth, a tense dance of push and pull, until Janice’s eyes welled up with tears. With a sigh of frustration, Ethan finally cornered her against the wall. “Don’t make me do something you’ll regret,” he muttered. Under the sickly yellow glow of a streetlight, they kissed. Hidden in the shadows across the street, I raised my phone and took several pictures. The Ethan I knew didn’t like kissing. Or so I’d thought. I stared at their entwined silhouettes. So, it wasn’t that he didn’t like kissing. He just didn’t like kissing me. He wasn’t unwilling to propose; he was just waiting for someone else to get divorced. Just as his hand started to slip under Janice’s dress, he stopped himself. “Go home. I’ll come see you tomorrow.” She clung to him, pouting. “What? Going home to get your fix from her?” “I won’t touch her tonight.” “I don’t believe you. Am I prettier, or is she?” Ethan was silent for a long moment. “You, of course,” he said finally. “She can’t compare to you.” A satisfied smile spread across Janice’s face. “Do you have any little cakes left in the shop?” Ethan asked. “Yeah, why?” “I’ll take one.” At that exact moment, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Ethan. Baby, is your stomach still hurting? I’m getting you a little cake. What flavor do you want? 7 The man was a walking, talking joke. Cheating on me, then offering me a consolation prize made by the other woman. I texted back: Don’t want cake. I’m craving that key lime pie from the old place on the West End. I saw his brow furrow from across the street. The West End was a forty-minute drive, easy. But on a day like this, a little something green felt appropriate. Ethan: Okay. I’ll go get it. I ordered you some takeout to tide you over. Love you. I shut off my phone, my face a mask of indifference. I was morbidly curious. How long was he going to keep up this act? 8 When Ethan got home, he had the key lime pie. He also had his best friend, Bob, in tow. Bob was drunk and quickly passed out in the guest room. Later that night, I got up for a glass of water and heard them talking. “I’m not bailing you out again if you keep this up,” Ethan said, his voice cold. Bob was a notorious playboy, cycling through women like they were seasonal trends. “You don’t get it, man. Women are like clothes. You can’t just walk around naked.” “You’re going to catch something from one of those girls,” Ethan reprimanded. “Find a nice girlfriend and settle down. It’s cleaner, less of a headache.” Bob, still slurring, laughed. “Like Lily, you mean? She’s great, I’ll give you that. Obedient, and her body is insane. You’re a lucky bastard. But now that Janice’s back, when are you dumping her?” There was a long pause. “I’m waiting,” Ethan said. “Janice hasn’t said yes yet.” “Well, after you break up, you should pass Lily my way. I’ve had my eye on her for a while.” Suddenly, there was a thud, and Bob grunted. Ethan had hit him. Bob didn’t seem to care. “What are you getting all high and mighty for? You’re the one who’s always telling me how wild she is in bed. Don’t tell me you’re getting possessive now.” I stood frozen outside the door, ice water flooding my veins. I never imagined that the man who was so tender and loving to my face would be so casually, crudely discussing our private life with his friends. Then, Ethan’s voice, colder than I’d ever heard it, cut through the silence. “Go ahead and try. She’s an orphan. Starved for affection. An easy conquest. A bouquet of flowers and she’ll fall right into bed. Good luck.” 9 I went to the cake shop alone. It was charming and exquisite, exactly Janice’s style. She looked surprised to see me but quickly recovered, greeting me with a warm smile. I took one bite of the cake and set my fork down. “How long have you been back?” Janice smiled sweetly. “Not long. Just got here.” Yes, Janice and I knew each other. I’d found out about her in my second year with Ethan. He kept a shoebox full of boarding passes to San Francisco, a trip he made almost monthly. He said he had to; it was a family obligation to look after her. So, when I was sick with the flu, Ethan was in San Francisco. On my birthday, Ethan was in San Francisco. We fought about her constantly. But every time we broke up, he would fight tooth and nail to win me back. It all stopped when she got married and moved abroad our junior year. And now, she was divorced and back. And so was the old Ethan. “It’s a beautiful shop,” I said, my voice even. He saw the look on my face and immediately launched into a defense. “Lily, when I was struggling in high school, her father paid my tuition. Janice’s back now, and I just wanted to repay that kindness with this shop. That’s all.” Ah, a debt of gratitude from his formative years. No wonder the bond was so deep. How could I ever compete with that? “I see,” I murmured. 10 “Have you found a place to live yet? Are you adjusting to the weather here?” I asked Janice, my voice dripping with concern. “It must be so inconvenient living on your own. Why don’t you come stay with us?” Janice’s polite smile faltered. She kept darting nervous glances at Ethan. He finally cut in, his voice tight. “That won’t be necessary. She’s fine here.” As we left, I bought a cake and bid Janice a polite farewell. Ethan’s face was a thundercloud. He practically dragged me to the car. The second the doors were closed, he shoved me against the backseat, his anger finally erupting. “What the hell was that? You’re tracking my every move now? Was it Bob? Did he tell you about this place?” “What’s the matter?” I shot back. “Is this some sacred place I’m not allowed to visit? Or are you hiding something?” He punched the seat next to my head, his chest heaving. He closed his eyes, visibly trying to rein in his temper. “Lily, can you just talk to me like a normal person for once?” I was done. So incredibly done. “What does it matter who told me?” I pulled the printed photos from my purse and threw them in his face. “Let’s settle this right now. Is this what you call ‘working late’? Does a business trip involve making out with your ex-crush in an alley?” He didn’t flinch as the sharp corner of a photo paper sliced a thin red line across his forehead. I looked him over, my voice dripping with the same disdain he’d used on me. “You really are an easy conquest, aren’t you? All she has to do is crook her little finger, and you come running like a pathetic dog. You’re so damn cheap, Ethan.” After I said we were done, Ethan was silent for a long time. He started the car and drove us to our favorite restaurant. “You must be hungry. Let’s eat first.” He ordered a table full of my favorite dishes. And I was hungry, so I ate, keeping my head down. Seeing me eat seemed to soften him. “Slow down,” he said gently, starting to peel a shrimp for me. When I was finished, I got straight to the point. “When we get back, pack your things and get out.” The apartment was mine; I’d bought it years ago. Ethan’s body went rigid. “Besides that one kiss, I haven’t touched her,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “Giving her the shop was just repaying a debt.” “Oh,” I said lightly. “Well, kissing is still pretty dirty.” That shattered his forced composure. He smashed his plate on the floor. “Lily, why do you have to talk like that?” I flinched away from the shattering porcelain. “You’d better remember to pay for that.” A shard of the plate had dug into his palm, drawing blood, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Bob told you, didn’t he?” “Why are you so obsessed with who told me?” “Who else could it be?” he sneered, his fist clenching. “One day he tells me he’s going to pursue you, and the next day you show up at the cake shop. It had to be him.” My own anger flared. “It doesn’t matter who told me! The fact is, you were the one who betrayed me!” I threw the printouts of his blog posts on the table. “Just admit you love her. Lying about it just makes you look pathetic.” He lost it completely, slamming his fist on the table. “I did not betray you!” he roared. “There is nothing going on between me and Janice now!” I remained unmoved. Men would lie with their dying breath. He stared at me for a long moment, and then a chilling calm settled over him again. “This is just an excuse, isn’t it? You just want to be with Bob.” He agreed to the breakup with a shocking ease. As he was leaving, he shot me one last look. “You’re always smiling at other guys at parties. Who knows who was unfaithful first? Don’t come crying to me when you want to get back together.” He looked me up and down, a lewd smirk on his face. “Besides me, who else could possibly satisfy you?”

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My husband’s ‘one that got away’ is hooked into some kind of hustle-culture cheat code, and all the exhaustion from her relentless ambition gets funneled directly into my body. She once worked for seven days straight without sleep to land a multi-million-dollar deal, becoming a legend in their field. Meanwhile, I was rushed to the emergency room with heart failure. When I tried to explain the impossible connection to my husband, he looked at me with pure disgust. “You’re just lazy,” he spat. “You’re jealous that she’s so young and successful, so you’ve invented this crazy story to curse her.” After that, every all-nighter she pulled chipped another piece away from my health. It escalated from nervous exhaustion to organ failure, until I was on the brink of death. The doctors could find no physical cause; they gently suggested I was suffering from persecutory delusions. Then came the final push for their company’s IPO. She locked herself in the office for two solid weeks. While she was doing that, I died in our home from exhaustion-induced cardiac arrest. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. It was the night of her very first all-nighter. This time, I locked the bedroom door and took out a full blister pack of sleeping pills. “Sweetheart,” I whispered to the empty room. “It’s time for bed.” 1 A phantom hand squeezed my heart, a violent, crushing grip that stole my breath and shot me upright in bed. Cold sweat soaked through my pajamas in an instant. I gasped for air, my eyes darting around the familiar shadows of our bedroom. I wasn’t dead. A glance at the clock confirmed it. I was back. Back to the night it all began, the first night Chloe pulled an all-nighter. In my first life, that night was the start of a slow, deliberate execution. Chloe was Ethan’s ‘one that got away’—the brilliant college friend turned business partner. She was a natural-born workhorse, the hustle-culture queen worshipped by everyone at their startup. She could go seven days without sleep to land a multi-million dollar deal, then stand in the spotlight, radiant, soaking in the applause. And I, Ethan’s wife, was the one who ended up in the emergency room after every one of her manic sprints. First, it was crushing anxiety. Then heart palpitations, shortness of breath, and finally, congestive heart failure. I tried to explain the bizarre connection to Ethan. He dismissed it as petty jealousy. “Ava, can you be an adult for once?” he’d said, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Chloe is killing herself for our future. The least you could do is be supportive, not fake an illness for attention.” His eyes were cold, full of a contempt that cut deeper than any illness. “If you’re jealous, just say so. Don’t resort to these pathetic little tricks.” From that day on, every late night Chloe worked was another nail in my coffin. My health deteriorated. Insomnia bled into heart palpitations, which led to a constant struggle for breath. Every hospital visit was the same: batteries of tests that revealed no physical cause. My doctors eventually suggested I see a psychiatrist, gently implying I was suffering from a persecutory delusion. And Ethan’s disgust for me grew. In his eyes, I had become a lazy, spiteful shrew who couldn’t stand to see another woman succeed. The end came just before their company’s IPO. Chloe locked herself in the office for two weeks, a final, brutal push to the finish line. And I died. Quietly, alone, from exhaustion-induced cardiac arrest in the home we had once filled with love. My soul lingered, a spectator to my own tragedy. I watched Ethan hold Chloe, pressing a reverent kiss to her forehead. “We did it, Chloe,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Once the company is stable, I’ll divorce that lazy woman and give you the wedding you deserve.” And now, I’m back. The familiar, suffocating pressure returned to my chest. I knew, with chilling certainty, that somewhere across town, Chloe was burning the midnight oil. If her exhaustion transfers to me, I thought, then what happens if I go to sleep? Does she have to sleep, too? This time, there was no panic. No desperate calls for help. I calmly walked to my dresser and took out a full blister pack of sleeping pills. As a therapist, I’d gotten them for a research paper on insomnia. I popped out every single pill. Without a moment’s hesitation, I swallowed them all with a glass of water. The drug hit my system quickly, a heavy, syrupy wave of drowsiness. I lay down, closed my eyes, and just before the darkness consumed me, I whispered into the silence. “Good night, Chloe.” 2 I expected to sleep until morning, but a spike of pain, sharp and blinding, ripped me from the darkness in the middle of the night. It felt like someone was driving steel needles into my temples, twisting them again and again. Pain. It was a pain that went bone-deep. I fought my way into a sitting position, my body trembling. I’d been asleep for hours, yet I felt more exhausted than before I’d taken the pills. The medication hadn’t worked. I had forced myself to sleep, but it hadn’t stopped the transfer of fatigue. In fact, the sedatives had only heightened my senses, amplifying the agony and weariness tenfold. Just then, Ethan’s phone lit up the nightstand. A new post from Chloe. It was a photo of her at her desk, bathed in the glow of a lamp, pen flying across a page. The caption read: Burning the midnight oil for the dream. This is when the magic happens. In the picture, her eyes were bright, electric. Not a hint of sleepiness. And in the comments, the first like and reply were from Ethan: Go get ’em, my girl. So proud of your hard work. My hands shaking, I grabbed my own phone, found Chloe’s contact, and hit the video call button. She answered almost immediately. Her face, crisp and clear, filled my screen. “Ava? It’s late. What are you still doing up?” I fought through the searing pain in my head, my eyes locked on hers. “Chloe, what did you do to me? Why does it hurt me when you work late?” She was silent for a few seconds, and then a small, cruel smile played on her lips. Her soft laugh was undisguised mockery. “What on earth are you talking about, Ava? Did Ethan praise my work ethic again? Did that make you jealous? I have to say, for a grown woman, your jealousy is really something else.” “I’m just built different,” she continued, her voice syrupy sweet. “I have more energy than most people. It’s a gift. You can’t learn it, and you certainly can’t fake it.” “Stop lying! You know exactly what’s happening!” I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat. “Please,” I begged, my voice breaking as the pain crested. “Stop. I’m begging you…” My grip on the phone was failing. “You’re just pathetic, Ava.” Her voice turned sharp as ice. “But what can you do? You’re useless. You do nothing but hold Ethan back.” “Oh, and by the way,” she added, her eyes glinting. “I’m planning on pulling an all-nighter tonight. I’m going to finish this whole proposal in one go. You better hang in there, Ava.” Before I could say another word, she ended the call. I stared at the black screen, a roaring sound filling my ears. The world tilted, went dark, and the phone slipped from my grasp. I tumbled from the bed and knew nothing more. 3 When I woke up, it was to the sterile smell of a hospital VIP room and the cold, rhythmic beeping of machines. Ethan was sitting by the bed, his face a mask of irritation and disgust. He didn’t ask how I was. He didn’t offer a word of comfort. He launched his attack the moment my eyes opened. “What the hell is your game now, Ava? Do you enjoy pulling these stunts in the middle of the night?” My heart still ached with a thousand tiny needles. Every breath was a chore. “I…” “You what?” he snapped, cutting me off. “The doctor said you’re suffering from exhaustion and stress. I told you to just stay home and relax. What could you possibly be so stressed about?” “It’s Chloe…” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “It’s always Chloe!” Ethan shot to his feet, looming over me. His eyes burned with disappointment. “Can’t you just be happy for her for once? The company is at a critical stage, and she is carrying the whole thing on her back! Instead of encouraging her, you’re here pulling this childish, manipulative crap!” He leaned in closer, his voice a low threat. “I’m warning you, Ava. Stop using these disgusting tactics to go after her. She is the most important partner I have. If you do anything to ruin her, I swear to God, I will make you regret it.” I was discharged after three days. During that time, Chloe hadn’t pulled any more all-nighters, and my body had started to recover. I used Ethan’s phone to send Chloe a text, perfectly mimicking his tone. I told her he wasn’t feeling well and needed her to swing by the house to pick up an urgent file for him. She didn’t suspect a thing. Half an hour later, she was at our door. She was dressed in a sharp power suit, her makeup flawless, radiating energy. The contrast with my own pale, fragile state was stark. “Ava. The file?” she asked, her tone polite but distant. I ignored her question and handed her a glass of water instead. “You must be thirsty. Have some water. You look like you were rushing.” Chloe hesitated for a moment, then took the glass and drank. I had dissolved a mild hypnotic I used in my therapy practice into the water. The air in the room was already filled with the calming scent of sandalwood, another part of my preparation. I began to speak in the low, soothing cadence I used with my clients, guiding her toward the sofa. “Chloe, look at my eyes.” “You’re so tired. You just want to sleep…” Her gaze started to soften, to lose focus. Her breathing steadied. “Tell me,” I pressed, my voice a hypnotic whisper. “Why do I feel your exhaustion when you stay up all night?” Her lips parted, and just as the truth was about to spill from them, the front door crashed open with a deafening bang. Ethan stormed in, his face contorted with rage. He shoved me aside and rushed to Chloe, frantically checking if she was okay. “Ava! You psychotic bitch! What are you doing to her?!” He spun around, his eyes bloodshot, glaring at me as if he wanted to tear me apart with his bare hands. “I should have known! You’re just jealous! You can’t stand that she’s better than you, so you resort to this… this witchcraft to destroy her!” He had pushed me so hard I stumbled backward, the corner of the coffee table digging sharply into my hip. “That’s not…” “Don’t you dare lie to me!” He rifled through my purse, pulling out the empty blister pack of sleeping pills. His face was a mask of fury. “You say you’re tired? I think you’re just bored! Since you love sleeping so much, I’ll help you get all the sleep you want!” He lunged at me, grabbing my chin in a vise-like grip. He brutally forced the remaining pills from the pack I’d left in my purse into my mouth, then grabbed the glass of water and poured it down my throat. “Swallow! Swallow it all!” Icy water and bitter pills flooded my airway. I choked, coughing violently as tears streamed down my face. He watched my desperate struggle without a flicker of pity. “If you ever touch a single hair on her head again,” he snarled, “I will make you disappear from this world.” He then lifted the still-drowsy Chloe into his arms as if she were a priceless treasure and carried her out. The door slammed shut, sealing me in. I collapsed to the floor, jamming my fingers down my throat, forcing myself to vomit up the pills he’d tried to kill me with. My stomach heaved, but I ignored the searing pain. With the last ounce of my strength, I crawled to the front door, unlocked it, and collapsed onto the welcome mat, surrendering to the encroaching darkness. 4 I woke up in a hospital bed. Again. A nurse told me a neighbor had found me unconscious in the doorway. They’d pumped my stomach, but the overdose had kept me in a coma for three days and three nights. I lay there, feeling weightless, boneless. But even after all that sleep, the bone-deep exhaustion was still there, a constant companion. My chest was tight, every breath a dull ache. Ethan never came. Good. Lying in that sterile room, I raised a weak hand to block the harsh fluorescent light. And then, I saw it. I shot up in bed, ignoring the nurse’s protests as I ripped the IV from my arm. Of course. That was the truth. That was how she was siphoning the life out of me. I finally understood. A few days later, I checked myself out of the hospital. I didn’t go home. I took a cab straight to my grandfather’s wellness clinic. My grandfather was a renowned acupuncturist and herbalist. When I was a child, my health was fragile, and he was the one who nursed me back to strength with his traditional remedies. The clinic smelled of dried herbs and earth, a scent that always calmed me. He took one look at my ghostly pale face and his own grew grim. He took my pulse, his brow furrowed. “My dear girl, how did you let yourself get into this state? Your energy is scattered, your pulse is weak… this is a severe depletion of your vital essence. If this continues, it could be life-threatening.” I didn’t explain. I just begged him to help me. He sighed and wrote out a long, complex prescription of herbs to nourish my blood, calm my spirit, and strengthen my body. Besides the foul-tasting teas, he taught me a series of gentle movements. “Tai Chi,” he said. “Practice every morning and every evening. It will rebuild your foundation, slowly bring back the energy you’ve lost.” He performed acupuncture, and as the silver needles found their points, a warmth spread through my limbs. For the first time in months, the hollowed-out feeling of exhaustion began to recede. For the next few weeks, I lived with my grandfather. My days were simple: I drank my herbal brews, practiced my movements, and let the needles work their magic. I blocked all calls and texts from Ethan and Chloe, vanishing completely from their world. I needed to conserve my strength. I was waiting for the perfect moment to watch the show. So, Chloe. You’re the queen of the grind, are you? You love to burn the candle at both ends? Let’s see how long you can last on your own.

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At seven, the woman my father brought home gave me a box of mangoes. My mother watched me eat them, her face full of sorrow, then signed the divorce papers and jumped from our window. Mangoes became my nightmare. On my wedding day, I told my husband, Ethan Carter, “If you want a divorce, give me a mango.” From then on, mangoes were his taboo too. On our fifth Christmas Eve, his childhood sweetheart, Phoebe Summers, put a mango on his desk. That day, Ethan cut ties with her and fired her. I thought he was my destiny. Six months later, I returned from securing a billion-dollar deal. At the celebration, Ethan handed me a juice. After I drank half, Phoebe appeared behind me, grinning. “How’s the mango juice?” I stared at Ethan. He was stifling a laugh. “Don’t be mad, Elara. It was just a joke. I didn’t give you a mango, just juice. Phoebe’s right—you need to get over this silly quirk. You enjoyed it!” My face went cold. I threw the rest in his face and walked away. Some things aren’t jokes. The mango wasn’t. Neither was my decision to file for divorce. 1 “Ms. Shaw, you’ve had a relapse of stress-induced gastritis.” “You must avoid any food that you have an aversion to. Next time, it might not be just stomach pain; it could require surgery.” “We’ll keep you for observation overnight. Please notify your family to come as soon as possible.” The doctor’s words echoed in the sterile silence. I had just spent 39 grueling days and sleepless nights abroad, fighting for a new project, only to be sent straight to the hospital by a glass of mango juice from my own husband. I instinctively opened my messaging app, my thumb hovering over his name at the top of my contacts. I typed two letters before I noticed something was wrong. His profile picture. He’d changed it. It was a green mango. As I stared at the screen, dumbfounded, my phone rang. It was Ethan. His voice was cold. “I’m home. Where are you?” Silence. Normally, this is where I would have softened my voice, played the part of the doting wife, and coaxed him with sweet words. But tonight, the words wouldn’t come. His irritation crackled through the phone. “Elara, how long are you going to keep this up?” “The hospital.” A beat of silence on his end. He never cared about my health. It would never have occurred to him that his “joke” could land me here. “Stay there. I’m on my way.” I didn’t want to see him, but my body was too weak to move. Time ticked by. The doctor checked on me three times. Ethan never showed up. Just before I drifted off to sleep, I scrolled through my phone one last time and saw Phoebe’s latest social media post: “My knight in shining armor always shows up to save the day, no matter what~” The accompanying photo was of Ethan gently applying a bandage to her finger. Phoebe’s profile picture was a ripe, yellow mango. Beautiful, and utterly sickening. We had known each other for ten years. Ethan knew my boundaries. As a seasoned businessman, he knew how to maintain a professional distance from other women. But now, he had crossed the line, again and again. And so, the thread that held our marriage together, and the new project I had just secured—the billion-dollar European contract that was the lifeblood of his company—no longer needed to exist. 2 When I woke up the next morning, there were no missed calls, no unread messages from Ethan. I wasn’t even angry. After the doctor gave me the all-clear, I went straight home. The 5,000-square-foot luxury villa was something we’d bought with cash last year. A world away from seven years ago, when we were fresh out of college, sharing a single packet of instant noodles in a cramped basement apartment. Or five years ago, on our wedding day, when we celebrated with a cheap meal at a hole-in-the-wall diner and a tiny four-inch cake. Now, here I was, alone in this cavernous house, left to lick my wounds. I supposed I would get used to it. I was reviewing the divorce papers my lawyer had sent over when Ethan walked in, bringing with him the heavy scent of rose perfume. The fragrance hit me like a physical blow. Ethan had sensitive skin, allergic to most cosmetics. He despised perfume. For years, I had forgone all skincare products, even choosing my shampoo with meticulous care, just for him. Apparently, his strict rules only applied to me. He saw me on the couch with my tablet and paused. “Phoebe was a little too excited at the party last night,” he explained, “she got drunk and took a fall, so I took her home. It was late, and she lives far out, so I just grabbed a hotel nearby instead of coming to the hospital to get you.” I nodded, canceling another one of our company’s supplier contracts on my tablet. “Okay. I understand,” I said without looking up. Ethan seemed thrown off. This clearly wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He hesitated, then took a few steps closer. “It’s Saturday, you should take a break from work. I’m planning to take Phoebe to Paris. Do you want to come with us?” Seven years ago, on my birthday, Ethan and I had taken a cheap, five-dollar photo at a night market. Standing in front of a tacky Eiffel Tower backdrop, he swore that one day, when we had money, he would take me to the real Paris and we would recreate that exact photo. As our home grew bigger and the company more successful, he only got busier. He’d placate me time and time again. “Elara, this is a critical growth period for the company.” “As the CEO, I can’t just take off on a vacation abroad.” “You’re the most understanding person I know. You get it, right?” I did get it. So I stopped mentioning Paris and threw myself into the business, helping to build his empire. But apparently, if Phoebe wanted to go, he was free. I opened the next client’s email, my tone unchanging. “Three’s a crowd. I’m not interested.” For some reason, he seemed to let out a sigh of relief. “Alright. I just need to grab something, and then I’m off. You’re on your own for lunch; we’ll have dinner together tonight.” He paused, his expression turning serious. “This new contract is crucial for our overseas expansion. I’ve invited the media for a press conference on Monday. Didn’t you always want to stand by my side, officially? This is your chance. You should prepare…” He looked at me intently. “Don’t worry. I’ll introduce you properly this time. I won’t let Phoebe cause any trouble.” I glanced up at him, my face a blank mask. I knew what this was: his compensation for last night’s cruelty. Fine by me. It would take a few days for the cancellation of the European contract to be processed anyway. Announcing it at his press conference seemed fitting. 3 That evening, as was my habit, I arrived at the restaurant early to wait for him. In seven years, it had become second nature. While I waited, I received a call from overseas. It was from our competitor in the last negotiation, who also happened to be an old friend from business school. Marcus’s voice was warm. “Elara, have you given any more thought to my offer to join Aether Global?” “Carter Enterprises is too small for you. It doesn’t deserve your talent.” This was the third time he had tried to poach me. The first was seven years ago, when I turned down a high-paying job at a multinational corporation to join Ethan’s tiny startup for a meager salary, half of which went to our shared rent. Marcus had argued with me until he was blue in the face, but he couldn’t change my mind. The second time was just a few days ago, across the negotiation table, where I had him and his team on the ropes. After our victory, he had approached me, half in admiration, half in frustration. “Elara, I heard you’re still criminally underpaid at Carter’s. Come work with me. Don’t let your brilliance be wasted on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.” I had smiled and refused. How could it be wasted? It was my husband’s company. It was the empire we had built together over seven years. The third time was now. I paused for only three seconds, signaled the waiter for a bottle of red wine, and accepted his offer without hesitation. “Send me the address. I’ll start on Tuesday.” The other end of the line was silent for a moment, then erupted in jubilant laughter. Fearing I would change my mind, Marcus quickly said, “Great!” and hung up. I chuckled, and as I was putting my phone down, a notification from Ethan popped up. [Change of plans. Phoebe couldn’t wait. We’re on the plane now. You’re on your own for dinner.] [I have a surprise for you when I get back.] A moment later, a new post appeared on my feed. It was from Phoebe, and I was the only one tagged: “Thanks to my big bro for making my dream come true! As a reward, I’ll treat you to a feast tomorrow~” The picture was of Phoebe and Ethan, hand in hand, under the real Eiffel Tower. It was identical to our cheap photo from seven years ago. I stared at the screen for a long moment, then calmly closed the app and opened my chat with Marcus. [As a signing bonus, how would you like a billion-dollar European contract?] 4 My phone was silent for a beat, then it began to vibrate uncontrollably. [YES! YES! YES!] [Elara, you’re too good to me! Yesterday was your birthday, right? The gift I sent should have arrived. Don’t forget to pick it up.] I froze. A small, brittle laugh escaped my lips, growing louder and louder. That’s right. Yesterday was my birthday. When Ethan watched me drink that mango juice, did he remember it was my birthday? When he was playing doctor with Phoebe, leaving me alone in a hospital bed, did he remember to get a gift for the woman he’d been married to for seven years? Probably not. But it didn’t matter anymore. We were getting a divorce. Who wants a gift from their soon-to-be ex-husband? After dinner, I didn’t rest. I threw myself into the European project. It was a gift for my new employer, after all. It had to be perfect. For the next two days, I lived at the office, the lights in my room burning through the night. My colleagues noticed. The company group chat, the one I wasn’t in, was buzzing. “What did I tell you? Director Shaw is completely dependent on Mr. Carter. How could she dare to stay mad?” “If it weren’t for her relationship with the boss, with how well the company is doing now, they wouldn’t even need her.” “I heard she was the one who held Mr. Carter back when he was starting out. The company would have gone public years ago otherwise.” Phoebe dutifully screenshotted every message and sent them to me, followed by a voice message dripping with false sympathy. “Elara, I know you must feel so insecure, being married to a powerful man like Ethan. But you have to understand, men aren’t attracted to old workaholics. They like girls who are young, pretty, and feminine… like me.” I listened to her cloying voice and smiled. “Is that so? In that case, I’ll have HR fire you tomorrow. Wouldn’t want you to be unable to attract a man.” Then, I blocked her. Ten minutes later, my phone rang. It was an irate Ethan. “Elara, what did Phoebe do to you now?” he seethed. “I finally convinced her to come to Paris and forgive you for your behavior at the party, and now you’ve made her cry again! Are you happy until you’ve made everyone miserable?” Forgive me? For what? The absurdity of it all made me laugh. I printed out the divorce agreement I had drafted and replied casually, “When are you and Phoebe coming back? We need to discuss the divorce.” There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by a furious roar. “Elara, have you lost your mind? There’s a limit to these jealous tantrums! If you keep this up, I’m going to get really angry.” I froze, then burst out laughing. I had the signed divorce papers in my hand. Did he really think I was afraid of him getting angry? “I’ve signed the papers. They’ll be on your desk when you get back. Make sure you read them.” CRASH! It sounded like he had kicked a chair. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Fine. Don’t you regret this!” The line went dead. I shrugged and signed my name on the agreement. The next morning, the first thing I saw when I opened my phone was Ethan’s latest social media post, visible to the public. It was posted at 4 a.m.; he clearly hadn’t slept. It was a picture of him and Phoebe, standing in front of a hotel’s floor-to-ceiling window, their fingers intertwined. The caption read: [Seven years of storms, and I’m lucky to have you.] Thousands of comments flooded in. “Finally official! Is this the boss’s wife he’s been hiding for seven years?” Ethan didn’t reply, but he pinned a comment with a single “Shh” emoji. Then there was the company-wide announcement he had set in the group chat. [Effective immediately, Phoebe Summers will be replacing Elara Shaw as Director. The European partnership project will be transferred to Director Summers’s portfolio. Tonight’s press conference will also be led by Director Summers.] He knew I had spent 39 sleepless nights abroad for that deal. He knew I had spent my days buried in paperwork and my nights networking, drinking until I was sick, just to secure that contract. And he was doing this to force me to surrender. My phone buzzed with a new message. It was from him. [You still have a chance to take it all back.] I didn’t reply. I tossed my phone aside and went to get ready. He seemed to have forgotten one crucial detail: I was the one who had made that deal happen. The European partners didn’t care about Carter Enterprises. They cared about me. 5 After getting ready, I went out for breakfast. When I returned to the office, all of my belongings had been thrown out into the hallway. My mug, my files, and the signed divorce agreement, which had been torn in half. The only thing that had survived was our wedding photo, which had been carefully placed on the windowsill. Phoebe was sitting in my chair, looking triumphant. “Oops, sorry, Elara,” she said with a malicious glint in her eye. “Ethan already gave me this office. From now on, you can work over there.” She pointed to a leaky storage closet next to the restrooms, her chin held high. I didn’t even bother to look at her. I turned to Ethan, who had been silent the entire time. His eyes were bloodshot, but a cruel smirk played on his lips. “Phoebe’s right. I gave her the office. But if you take back what you said about the divorce, maybe I could reconsider…” “No, thanks.” I cut him off. I walked over to the windowsill, picked up our wedding photo, and, under his smug gaze, dropped it into the trash can. “I don’t want this either. You can throw it away.” Then, I grabbed my laptop from the desk and walked out, pretending not to see the fury that had turned Ethan’s eyes crimson. Today was Monday. I had to be in Europe for my new job on Tuesday. I had packing to do. I didn’t go to the press conference that night. Instead, from my home, I finalized the details with our European partners under my new title as a director at Aether Global. The moment the contract was confirmed, I received a message from Ethan. [I’ve invited the media to broadcast the press conference live. If you don’t apologize now, the European project will really have nothing to do with you.] I glanced at it and turned on Do Not Disturb. It was about time. I had a flight to catch. At 7 p.m., the media began to arrive. The event was being broadcast live across the city. Phoebe, having spent a fortune on a celebrity makeup artist, was radiant, clinging to Ethan’s arm and smiling for the cameras. Ethan, dressed in a sharp grey suit, looked impeccable, but his eyes darted anxiously through the crowd, searching for someone. Why isn’t she here? The thought flickered through his mind, and his initial excitement began to curdle into unease. But the show had to go on. Ethan cleared his throat and took the microphone. “Good evening, everyone. I am Ethan Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises. The purpose of tonight’s press conference is to announce our company’s partnership with Viktoria Solutions on the landmark ‘Project Victoria’. This project…” “Excuse me!” A reporter with an international business channel press pass suddenly stood up. “Mr. Carter, are you certain you mean Project Victoria?” Ethan frowned. “Of course. This is our company’s…” His assistant rushed onto the stage, whispering frantically in his ear. “Sir, it’s bad! A minute ago, Aether Global released an official statement! They’ve secured Project Victoria. Director Shaw has left the company!”

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The day my life ended began at my son’s preschool. I was there to pick up Leo, my three-year-old, when a madman started slashing his way through the afternoon pickup line. A knife flashed in the bright California sun. To protect my son, I became a shield. I took a dozen cuts for him before collapsing into a spreading pool of my own blood. My husband, Landon, was a man who could move mountains. He had the attacker in custody and a team of the best surgeons in the state assembled before the ambulance even reached the hospital. As they wheeled me into the OR, I grabbed his sleeve, my voice a ragged whisper. “Leo? Is Leo okay?” His eyes, rimmed with a terrible red, met mine. “He lost too much blood, Stella. He was gone before they got here.” The world dissolved into blackness. I fainted before I could tell them, before I could remember to say the words that were always my responsibility: I’m immune to most anesthetics. I drifted back into a hazy, muted consciousness to the sound of Landon’s voice, low and cold, talking to one of the surgeons. “Mr. Hayes, the boy could have been saved. We had a window. Why did you tell us to stand down? That was your son. He was only three.” “I never intended for him to live,” Landon said, his voice devoid of any emotion I recognized. “His birth was a mistake. Then he had the audacity to ask me for a birthday present. What’s next? A claim on the company?” He continued, his tone chillingly reasonable. “My son with Vanessa is about to turn eighteen. I promised her the company as his gift. I won’t have anyone competing for it.” My marriage wasn’t a love story. It was a lie. It was my own private hell. Fine, I thought through a fog of pain and betrayal. You can have it all. 1 The surgeon, his voice laced with pity, glanced at the shredded ruin of my abdomen. “I’ve examined her. Given the severity of the trauma, it’s a miracle her uterus is intact. She might have a chance to be a mother again someday.” “Who gave you permission to save it?” Landon’s voice was sharp, a whip crack in the sterile room. “Remove it. I want it gone. I want to make sure she can never have another child.” The doctor’s shock was audible. “Mr. Hayes, you’re handing the company over in three days. Another child years from now wouldn’t be a threat. The woman just lost her son. You want me to take her womb, too? Why be so cruel?” I felt the phantom caress of Landon’s hand on my cheek, though he stood across the room. His next words were the most brutal of all. “Letting her have that bastard was the biggest mistake of my life. I swore to Vanessa that no one would ever threaten our son’s inheritance. Even after she married someone else, it was my duty to protect them, to eliminate any loose ends.” A knock at the operating room door. A man’s slick, careless voice sliced through the quiet. “Mr. Hayes, thanks for faking that psych evaluation for me. Got me off scot-free. I took care of the little brat for you, so about the payment you promised…” “Five million will be wired to your account. Take the money and get out of New York. Don’t ever let me see you near Stella again.” “Alright, get on with the surgery. I’ve got to pick up the gift I ordered for Harrison. Oh, and give her a heavy dose of anesthesia. I don’t want Stella to be in any pain.” The footsteps faded. I clamped my eyes shut so hard I felt a molar crack in my jaw, a dam against the tears that threatened to betray me. He wasn’t a madman. He was a hitman. A butcher hired by my husband to secure a future for the woman he truly loved. My little Leo. Only three years old. Murdered on his birthday by his own father’s design, for a crime he didn’t even know how to commit. My body doesn’t respond to the drugs. I was awake for every cold, metallic scrape inside of me, every pull and tear as they carved out the very core of my womanhood. The pain was a living thing. It finally consumed me, and I fell back into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, Landon was there, his own eyes swollen and red, his voice thick with a perfect imitation of heartbreak. “Stella, you’re awake. Does it hurt?” He clutched my hand. “I’ve been waiting right outside. You have no idea how scared I was. Losing Leo is the worst pain of my life… if I lost you, too, I wouldn’t want to live.” He stroked my hair, his performance flawless. “Stella, the doctor said… the damage was too severe. Your uterus… you won’t be able to have children again. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives. We’ll be okay, just the two of us.” I looked down at my bandaged stomach. The wound was neatly stitched, a clean line on the surface. But underneath, there was only a hollow emptiness that echoed with a finality I could barely comprehend. I had lost the right to be a mother forever. “Leo?” I asked, my voice flat. Landon’s face crumpled with well-rehearsed guilt. “He’s at the funeral home. The cremation… the funeral is tomorrow. Stella, I’m so sorry. I failed him. I failed to protect our boy.” A fresh wave of agony washed over me, but I didn’t call him on his lies. My gaze fell to the bedside table. In a small, iconic blue box sat a platinum locket. “Landon,” I said, my voice thin. “Today is Leo’s birthday. We never got him a gift. Let this locket be buried with him. So he might have a long and peaceful life in the next world. Please?” A flicker of annoyance crossed his face before being replaced by that gentle, practiced sympathy. “Stella, darling, this is for a friend. He asked me to pick it up for his son. We can’t just take it.” He patted my hand. “Besides, this is for the living. It would just make Leo sad. And honestly, the material is nothing special. It’s not good enough for our son. I’ve already arranged for the finest burial offerings to be sent to the funeral home. He’ll have everything he needs.” I said nothing. The cold in my chest was absolute. After years as a stay-at-home mother, Landon had forgotten who I was before him. He’d forgotten that I was once one of the sharpest jewelry appraisers in the city. The locket was platinum, the craftsmanship exquisite, from a heritage brand whose custom pieces started in the six figures. Engraved on the back were the words, ‘Safe and Sound, Forever and Always.’ An inscription overflowing with a parent’s boundless love. For two months, I had seen him holed up in his study, sketching designs, obsessing over every detail. I thought it was for Leo. I was wrong. In his heart, it was my son and I who were never good enough. At my insistence, Landon arranged for my discharge. At home, he was the perfect, doting husband. He waved away the housekeeper, insisting on bathing me himself, carefully washing my hair, his touch gentle as he avoided the wound on my belly. He dried my hair with the tenderness of a lover. I used to find such comfort in his gentleness. Now, staring at the ugly, stitched line on my skin, the memory of Leo’s stolen life was a wall of ice between us. His touch was a violation. Late that night, while he slept, I slipped into his study. I opened his laptop and logged into his cloud drive. The password was Vanessa’s birthday. Inside were tens of thousands of photos and videos. A meticulously curated archive of another life. Vanessa’s pregnancy, the birth of their son, every milestone, every birthday, every family vacation. There was also a signed stock transfer agreement, ready to be executed. For fifteen years, Landon had spent months “on business trips,” “expanding the market.” In reality, he was playing house with his real family. And I, the stupid, trusting wife, had never once suspected. His messenger app was still open on the desktop. The top chat, pinned and precious, was a group called “Our Little Family.” It was a dagger in my eye. For eighteen years, he had showered Vanessa and their son with gifts I couldn’t even fathom. “Landon, Harrison just turned one, what’s he going to do with a Maserati? You spoil him! P.S. I adore the sapphire necklace. Mwah!” “Landon, my love, Harrison is three today! The private island you bought him is breathtaking. Your flight gets in this afternoon, right? He can’t wait to see his daddy.” This was a level of devotion Leo and I had never known. I gave up a brilliant career to marry Landon at twenty, to be the woman behind the man. I supported him through every crisis, helped him build his empire from the ground up. The stress took a toll on my body, and for years, I couldn’t conceive. He was always so calm about it, so reassuring. I thought it was because he didn’t want to pressure me. I was grateful for his patience. In our fifteenth year of marriage, I finally got pregnant. Landon’s reaction wasn’t the joy I had expected, just a polite, symbolic smile. Now, seeing the photos of him kissing Vanessa’s swollen belly, his face alight with pure ecstasy, I understood. He already had a child. To him, my Leo was an inconvenience. An appendix that needed to be cut out before it burst and ruined everything. No wonder Landon was always “out of the country for work” on Leo’s birthday. Harrison’s birthday was three days later. He needed time to prepare, to make sure his real family never felt anything less than cherished. My heart felt like a dead thing in my chest. I closed the laptop and called my best friend in Paris. “Chloe? I’m ready to take that job. I’ll be your head appraiser. I’ll see you in three days.” Then, I asked her for a few other, more complicated favors. After the call, I went to Leo’s room. It was exactly as he’d left it. His pillow still smelled of that sweet, milky scent unique to a small child. But my baby would never sleep here again. Under his pillow, I found a small glass jar, a “wish bottle.” Inside was a note, written in his teacher’s careful script, transcribing his words. “My teacher says big boys have to be brave, so this year I finally got the courage to ask Daddy for a birthday present. But I didn’t even finish talking before he got mad and walked away.” “I just wanted to ask if Daddy could spend one hour with me on my birthday. Thirty minutes would be okay, too. That would make me so, so happy.” The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free, hot and silent. This, Landon? This was the monumental ambition you were so terrified of? I printed the divorce papers, then spent the rest of the night in Leo’s bed, clutching his blanket, inhaling his fading scent, and crying until I had nothing left. The next morning, Landon, a man obsessed with cleanliness, personally cleaned the weeping wound on my stomach and changed my dressing, his touch meticulous. The housekeeper watched with an envious sigh. I felt nothing but a vast, cold emptiness. He saw my swollen, red-rimmed eyes and his face filled with concern. “Stella, I know you miss him. I miss him more than you can imagine. But you have to take care of yourself. I’ve already lost my beloved son. I can’t lose you, too. Why don’t you stay home and rest today? I’ll handle the funeral.” Handle it? The way you handled his life? The thought was a bitter acid in my throat. “No,” I said, my voice a dead monotone. “I have to be there. I have to see him off.” When we arrived at the cemetery, I saw them immediately. Vanessa and a teenage boy were flanking Landon’s mother, laughing and chatting, making the old woman beam with delight. It was a funeral. Everyone else was in black. Vanessa was in a fire-engine red designer dress. The boy, her son, wore a matching blazer, just as loud, just as inappropriate. Yet my mother-in-law seemed not to notice, or not to care. She held their hands, her eyes filled with a love she had never once shown me. She had one of her staff hold an umbrella over them, shielding them from the sun, as if they were the true daughter-in-law and grandchild. When Vanessa saw me, a smug smile played on her lips. “Oh, Eleanor, I’m not hot,” she said, her voice carrying across the lawn. “Stella’s here. Why don’t you give the umbrella to her? After all, she’s not like me. She’s grieving. And injured. She needs the special treatment, you know.” At her words, my mother-in-law shot me a look of pure disgust. “What are you crying about? It was just one ungrateful brat. Who are you putting on this pathetic show for? Have you no sense of decency? No respect for the Hayes family name?” She gestured toward Vanessa and the boy. “Look at them. They have more sense than you. They flew in immediately because they were worried about me. And Harrison brought me this beautiful jade bracelet. You could learn a thing or two from them, you worthless creature.” She’d always hated me. Said I wasn’t good enough for her son. For fifteen years, she called me a barren hen who couldn’t lay an egg. When Leo was born, she despised him, too, calling him a traitor for being so attached to me. Landon used to defend me. Now, his eyes were locked on Vanessa, his expression so full of adoration it was as if he were gazing at a holy relic. Vanessa shot me a triumphant, silent smirk before turning back to his mother. “Eleanor, darling, you mustn’t get upset. It’s bad for your heart. If you’ll have him, Harrison would be honored to be your grandson from now on.” My mother-in-law was overjoyed, praising her for being so thoughtful. Vanessa then glided over to me, the boy in tow. “It’s been a while, Stella,” she purred. “So sorry about our clothes. We just got off a flight from Europe and rushed right over. You’re so understanding, I knew you wouldn’t mind. Right?” She gestured to the boy. “Oh, and this is my son, Harrison Hayes.” He had Landon’s jawline, Landon’s eyes. He gave me a contemptuous once-over. “Wow, you’re ugly,” he said with the casual cruelty of the terminally spoiled. Then he turned to Landon and held out his hand. “Dad, you said you had presents for us when we got back. My eighteenth birthday is in two days. Last year you only got me ninety-nine things. This year, I want a hundred.” Landon didn’t even flinch at the insult to my face. He just ruffled the boy’s hair with a look of helpless indulgence. “I know, I know.” He took out the platinum locket and fastened it around Harrison’s neck, his expression tender, paternal. As if that wasn’t enough, he snapped his fingers. From behind the chapel, a procession of a dozen brightly colored supercars roared to life and drove onto the lawn. “There. I know you like bright colors. They’re all yours.” Vanessa wrinkled her nose and looped her arm through Landon’s. “Landon, what about me? You can’t just spoil our son.” He tweaked her nose playfully. “Of course not.” He snapped his fingers again. From each car, two attendants emerged, carrying velvet trays laden with jewelry. Dozens of sets—necklaces, earrings, bracelets—in every style and stone imaginable. Their only commonality was their astronomical price. One set, I recognized, had once belonged to a Qing dynasty empress. Vanessa squealed and kissed his cheek, her girlish act perfected over years of practice. “Wow! Isn’t this all from the royal auction in Monaco last week? The cheapest piece was over a million dollars! You bought it all for me? Oh, Landon, you’re the best. But won’t Stella be upset that you spent so much?” They had turned my son’s funeral into a vulgar showcase of cars and jewels. And me? In my old, ill-fitting black suit, no makeup, my eyes swollen to slits, I was a pathetic caricature of a grieving mother. Next to the radiant, exquisitely dressed Vanessa, I was a joke. A frumpy, tragic yellow-faced wife. In three years of life, all the gifts Landon had ever given Leo didn’t add up to the price of one of Harrison’s new tires. It was laughable. It was all so hideously laughable. Landon finally seemed to remember I was there. He cleared his throat, a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. “Stella, don’t get the wrong idea. Vanessa and Harrison, they’re just used to a different… etiquette… from living abroad.” “And you heard Mom. She’s accepted Harrison as her grandson, so it’s only natural he calls me Dad. It’s his birthday soon, I just wanted to… show my appreciation. And the locket was…” He never finished. Vanessa swayed, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Landon, I feel dizzy. I think it’s heatstroke.” He dropped my arm instantly and scooped her into his. “What? How? I built you that villa in the mountains specifically to avoid the heat. You should have stayed there instead of coming to this… dreary place. Come on, I’ll take you somewhere to rest.” And just like that, before Leo’s ashes were even interred, he carried her away. I stood there, enduring the whispers and stares, and picked up my son’s small, heavy urn myself. It’s okay, my love. Daddy doesn’t love you, but Mommy does. But before I could place the urn in the niche, Harrison slammed into me, knocking it from my hands. It shattered on the stone path. Leo’s ashes, my son, scattered across the ground like gray dust. “Watch where you’re going, lady!” he sneered, not a hint of remorse in his voice. “Are you blind? My dad bought me this suit. It’s custom. You think you can afford to replace it if you get that dead kid’s dust on it? Disgusting.” He smirked and pulled out a plastic water bottle filled with cigarette butts. “Here,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t say I never did anything for you. You can put your son’s ashes in this.” Forgetting him, I turned to my mother-in-law, my eyes pleading with her to help me, to get another urn, to protect what was left of Leo. She just scowled. “What are you looking at me for? If you weren’t so useless, the box wouldn’t have broken. The water bottle is fine. I’m not spending another dime on that little traitor. Now hurry up and bury it. I have a mahjong game to get to.” Harrison kicked me aside. He had one of the groundskeepers sweep Leo’s ashes into the filthy bottle and toss it into the burial niche before sealing it shut. My fists clenched so tight my nails drew blood. How could they? How could they do this to my son? I turned, blind with rage, to find Landon. I found him in the small chapel, in front of the memorial display for Leo. He and Vanessa were tangled together, their clothes in disarray. “Landon,” she was whispering, her voice husky. “Harrison is growing up. He gets lonely. I want to have another baby for you.” Landon hesitated. “Vanessa, all these years, you’ve had to hide Harrison away so your husband wouldn’t find out. I’ve already made you suffer so much, being separated like that. I can’t put you through it again. And besides… this is Leo’s memorial. We can’t…” Her hand slid down his chest, her voice dropping to a seductive purr. “For you, Landon, I would suffer anything. And he’s never home. He’ll never know.” She pressed against him. “I’ve never done it in a chapel before. Don’t you want to try? You look so tired. Let me take good care of you…” A vein pulsed in Landon’s temple. He surrendered, his mouth crushing down on hers. The scene became more and more obscene. My hands trembling, I raised my phone and recorded everything. Then I turned and fled, collapsing in front of Leo’s desecrated grave. A violent shudder wracked my body. Landon, your son’s photograph is hanging right above your head. How dare you? Everyone was gone. No one cared about me or my son. I lit the ceremonial money in a small brazier, the tears I thought I’d run out of streaming down my face again. My marriage wasn’t a tragedy. It was a farce. The brazier was suddenly kicked over. Sparks flew, searing my hand. Vanessa stood there, smiling like a predator. “Seeing Landon and me together in front of your son’s memorial, Stella? Was it exciting? You can burn all the paper money you want. Your short-lived little ghost isn’t coming back.” Her voice was venomous. “If you’d remained barren, I wouldn’t have bothered with you. But you dared to have a child with Landon. No one takes a single penny that belongs to my son.” “The Hayes fortune is ours. Landon’s heart is mine. He was willing to have your son killed just to give me peace of mind. To be such a failure as a woman… it’s pathetic. If I were you, I’d throw myself off a cliff.” That was it. The final straw. I rose, my hand raised to strike her, but before I could move, she threw herself backward, tumbling down the short flight of stone steps. Before I could process what had happened, a powerful hand shoved me to the ground. Landon caught Vanessa, cradling her protectively. He looked up at me, his face contorted with rage. “Stella, are you insane?! How dare you touch her?!” Before I could speak, Vanessa sobbed into his chest. “Landon, I just wanted to comfort her. But she accused me of wearing red just to spite her. She said she was going to push me down the stairs to kill me, to make me pay for Leo’s death. She said she was going to hire a psychic to turn Leo’s ghost into a demon to haunt me.” Her wails grew louder. “I was so sad about Leo, too! I came straight from the airport! I was just worried, I didn’t think about my clothes! Landon, you know how sensitive I am… I’m so scared…” Landon’s face hardened. He glared at me. “It was your bad luck that you ran into a maniac, and you dragged Leo down with you! Vanessa came here out of the goodness of her heart to comfort you, and this is how you repay her? You have no gratitude!” He was shouting now. “So what if she wore red? She told you it wasn’t intentional! Maybe Leo liked bright colors! Why do you have to be so petty and cruel?” “And now you’re using your dead son to curse her? He’s not even at peace, and you’re using him like this? What kind of heartless mother are you?!” I dragged Leo down with me? I’m petty? I’m heartless? Tears of rage and disbelief streamed down my face. I pointed a shaking finger at Leo’s tombstone. “Landon! You think I’m heartless? Can you say you have a clear conscience?!” I screamed. “I dare you! I dare you to stand in front of our son’s grave and tell him why he died! Tell him what kind of surgery you ordered the doctors to perform on his mother!” Landon frowned. “What are you yelling about? He died because you failed to protect him. It’s that simple.” “As for the surgery, should I not have asked the doctors to save your life? Is that what you wanted? Stella, I think you’re losing your mind. Stop this hysterical act and apologize to Vanessa right now!” Vanessa tightened her arms around his neck, her voice a weak whisper. “It’s alright, Landon. Even though she tried to hurt me… she did just lose a child. Let’s be the bigger people. My ankle… I think I twisted it when I fell. It hurts so much. Can you take me to the hospital?” Landon gave me one last look of profound disappointment, then turned and carried her away without another word. As they left, Vanessa looked over his shoulder at me. Her lips formed a single, silent word. Loser. Watching them go, I knew. Landon and I were finished. Utterly and completely. I bought a new urn. I paid the groundskeeper to open the niche, to carefully gather my son’s ashes from the dirt and filth. I held him close and walked away. My Leo didn’t deserve such a pathetic funeral. And he certainly didn’t need such a heartless father. Back at the house, I gave the housekeeper an extended vacation. That evening, Landon called. “Stella, are you home? Don’t worry, Vanessa’s ankle is fine, just a sprain. Look, I was out of line today. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that when you’re grieving. I didn’t mean it.” His voice was a smooth balm of reason. “But those stairs are so steep. If she had really fallen, if something had happened to her… what would Harrison do? We’ve lost our child. I just… I couldn’t bear to see him lose his mother, too.” “He’s my godson, after all. And Vanessa and I are old friends. It’s only right that I look after them. You shouldn’t read too much into it.” “I know,” I said softly. “It’s okay. You take care of them.” “That’s my girl. So understanding,” he said, relieved. “Listen, didn’t Leo always want to see the ocean? I’ve booked tickets. The day after tomorrow, we’ll go. Get away from all this. Even though he’s gone, we should still fulfill his wish for him. Wait for me. I’ll come home and get you.” All night, my phone buzzed with notifications from Vanessa. To appease her, and to delight Harrison, Landon had chartered a private jet. They were on their way to Las Vegas for a shopping spree. My Leo couldn’t get his father to take him to the beach once in three years. A final message from her popped up. A picture of them on the jet, champagne glasses raised. The caption: How can you even compete, Stella? She was right. I couldn’t. So I wouldn’t. The next day, Landon was still gone. The photos and videos from Vanessa became a deluge. Shopping sprees, high-stakes poker games, even explicit clips of her and Landon in their hotel suite. I didn’t reply. I just packed. Everything that belonged to me, everything that had belonged to Leo, I boxed up and sent to charity. On the afternoon of the third day, Landon finally remembered me. Stella, sorry, something came up at the office. My assistant will pick you up and take you to the airport. I’m on my way now. He didn’t know that one minute earlier, Vanessa had sent me another video. It was Harrison’s eighteenth birthday. Landon had rented out the most opulent ballroom in Vegas for his party. In the video, he was fastening a necklace around Vanessa’s neck—the centerpiece a pink diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Vanessa,” he said, his voice thick with emotion for the camera, “thank you for giving me such a wonderful son. You are the hero of our family.” I didn’t reply. I blocked both of their numbers. I placed the signed divorce papers and a small USB drive into a manila envelope and had it messengered to the hotel in Las Vegas. I left the little slip of paper with Leo’s birthday wish on the dining room table. Then I picked up my son’s urn, took one last look at the house I had lived in for fifteen years, and walked out the door. I was going to the airport. Goodbye, Landon. At the hotel, Landon had just announced his intention to make Harrison his sole heir. He was about to sign the official stock transfer agreement. Suddenly, his assistant burst into the ballroom, his face pale, clutching a manila envelope. He rushed to Landon’s side, his voice a panicked, trembling whisper. “Mr. Hayes… it’s terrible. Mrs. Hayes… she was on a flight to Europe. The flight… it’s gone down over the Atlantic.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385074”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At my wedding reception, my best man, Ethan, got up to sing a song for us. He chose Adele’s “Someone Like You,” and by the second verse, he was crying. I thought he was just emotional about me getting married, so I clapped him on the shoulder, trying to comfort him. That’s when the text appeared, floating in the air in front of my eyes, like a live stream chat overlaying my vision. **【Can this loser side character get out of the way? He’s blocking the shot of the main couple singing to each other.】** **【LMAO, he thinks the ML is crying for him. Bro, he’s crying because he didn’t get to marry the love of his life.】** **【It’s okay, guys! Just 10 more episodes! Once the FL finds out why the ML broke up with her back then, she’ll dump this placeholder husband and start grovelling to win him back!】** **【Tbh does this guy really not know about the FL and ML? He’s so manipulative. Later in the story, he almost gets the ML killed to stop the divorce. Thank god the FL loves the ML so much she bankrupts the side character’s family. He jumps off a building and dies. So satisfying!】** A chill went down my spine. I refused to believe what I was seeing. But then I turned my head. And I saw my new wife, Chloe, silently singing along with him, tears streaming down her face, too. 1 I somehow held it together until the last guest left. Ethan was completely wasted. He’d lost his shoes somewhere and was stumbling barefoot on the gravel path outside the venue, his feet bleeding. He was leaning on Chloe like she was a lamppost, slurring, half-crying, half-laughing. “Heyyy, this lamppost is so… soft.” “You finally found your happiness, Chloe.” “I’m so happy today.” “I’m so, so, so happy for you!” For a split second, I almost believed him. I thought he was genuinely happy for me. But then the chat popped up again, shattering that last bit of hope. **【Ugh, my heart breaks for him. He’s dying inside but still has to pretend to be drunk to wish her well. 😭😭】** **【Here we go, here we go! The key plot point is coming! The FL is about to offer to take the ML home, and the loser husband will finally realize something’s off and throw a fit, which just makes the FL hate him more!】** **【Chloe, what are you doing just standing there?! Can’t you see his feet are bleeding? Go get his shoes!】** Chloe has a thing about germs. She won’t even touch my shoes after I’ve worn them. But right then, she walked back inside, found Ethan’s leather dress shoes, and knelt to put them on for him. I saw an emotion I’d never seen in her cool, distant eyes before: it looked like pain. Like she was hurting *for* him. She turned to me, her voice casual. “It’s late. He can’t get home like this. Is it okay if I give him a ride?” She was asking my opinion, just like she always did. Respecting me. My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Are you sure?” My voice was unnaturally calm. “Chloe, it’s our wedding night.” I added, “I can call an Uber or ask one of the other groomsmen to take him.” A small frown creased her forehead. The chat messages flew across my vision. **【LMAO does he really think that’s going to make her stay?】** **【His wedding night? Who cares? The ML is a wreck right now, how could she just leave him?】** **【Get ready for her to shut him down HARD. His little tantrum is just gonna make our ML look even more sympathetic and sweet!】** I could see the conflict in Chloe’s eyes. After a moment of silence, she made her choice. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She turned to leave, but I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Wait.” She spun back, her patience clearly wearing thin. “I *said* I’ll be back soon.” I swallowed the suffocating tightness in my chest and tossed her my car keys. “Take my car.” She frowned, about to refuse. “He doesn’t get carsick in mine,” I added flatly. Chloe paused, then snatched the keys from the air. Before she got in the car, she rolled down the window. “Wait for me.” I watched them drive off. Then I calmly called a moving company. I had them clear out all of my belongings, which I had just moved into our new home yesterday. Then I left the house Chloe and I had bought together, paid in full. 2 I didn’t meet Chloe through Ethan. So, this whole time, I never knew they even knew each other, let alone that they had this kind of history. When I was set up on a blind date with Chloe, I’d been single for the better part of a decade. I’d given up on finding a soulmate. I went to the date with zero expectations, only to meet a woman who was, in every conceivable way, my perfect type. She came from a good family, she was stunningly beautiful, and wickedly smart. Her only flaw was that she was so rational, she sometimes came across as cold. But she was like that with everyone. Including herself. A month after we met, I was dropping her off after a date when we got mugged. The guy held a knife to her throat, but she didn’t even flinch. She just calmly negotiated with him. “If you leave now, I won’t call the police,” she said, her voice steady. “But there’s only one of you. I can fight you long enough for him to call for help. There’s a police station less than a block from here.” The mugger, panicked and angry, didn’t listen. He lunged, aiming the knife at her. In that split second, I didn’t think. I just knew I couldn’t let her get hurt. I threw myself in front of her, tackling the guy. The blade sank deep into my back, the pain so intense it stole my breath. Chloe immediately dropped to my side. She calmly called 911, then pressed her jacket against the wound to stop the bleeding. She only asked me one thing. “Why didn’t you run?” “Because I want to be your boyfriend, Chloe,” I gasped. For the first time since I’d met her, she seemed speechless. Then her brow furrowed slightly. “But I don’t know how to love someone.” “That’s okay,” I said. “I know how to love you.” And just like that, I dove headfirst into her world. We started dating. And she was right; she didn’t know how to be affectionate. But she tried to learn. For me. She learned to buy me flowers on our anniversary. She learned to pick me up from work. She learned to cook my favorite meals. I thought that as long as she was willing to learn for me, it meant she loved me. I never imagined that she was just imitating what love was supposed to look like. That it didn’t mean she was actually in love with me. 3 From the live stream chat, I learned that Chloe and Ethan were high school sweethearts. They’d dated for three years. Right after graduation, Ethan’s mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and he had to drop out of college to go home. But when he got there, his abusive, alcoholic father, desperate to keep him from leaving again, found his official school records and destroyed them. His future was gone. With no prospects, he tearfully broke up with Chloe. He told her he didn’t want to hold her back. He said he’d met someone else, someone more suitable, and was going to marry her. From that day on, Chloe changed. The vibrant girl he knew disappeared, replaced by the quiet, cool, rational woman I met. She got into an Ivy League school, graduated, started a successful company with a partner, and never looked back. **【If it weren’t for this stupid side character, the ML and FL would’ve gotten back together when they ran into each other a year ago!】** **【Remember how the husband acted all generous, telling them to ‘catch up’? Little did he know they already knew every mole on each other’s bodies. 😂】** **【My heart aches for Ethan. He had such a tragic life, but he pulled himself up by his bootstraps. Cared for his mom until she passed, then made sure his dad ended up in prison. He started from nothing, got himself back into college, and became just as successful as Chloe. They’re a true power couple!】** **【NGL what does the husband even have? Some family money? A fancy degree? He’s nothing compared to our self-made king.】** **【Wait, this isn’t following the script. Isn’t he supposed to be fighting with Chloe right now? That fight is what’s supposed to make her realize how gentle and kind Ethan is!】** **【You don’t get it. This is his new tactic. The manipulative loser is running away from home! But it’s not gonna work. Ethan is super sick from the booze, so Chloe is gonna stay and take care of him all night. She won’t even know her husband is gone. What a waste of drama!】** Just as the chat predicted, Chloe wasn’t coming home. A text from her lit up my phone: **【Emergency meeting at the office. Let’s meet at the courthouse at 8 AM tomorrow to sign the papers.】** I just leaned back and closed my eyes. In that moment, I was profoundly grateful that we had the wedding first. Everything could still be undone. 4 I got to my parents’ house at 3 AM. They didn’t ask any questions. They just put fresh sheets on my bed, handed me a glass of warm milk, and my dad patted my shoulder. “Get some sleep, son.” I slept better than I had in months. When I woke up, it was already one in the afternoon. My phone showed two missed calls and two unread texts from Chloe. For her, that was the equivalent of a full-blown panic. And yet, for Ethan last night, she had promised three separate times, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I smirked and opened her messages. The first was from 8:15 AM: **【It’s 8:15. You’re late.】** The second, five minutes later: **【I only offered to take Ethan home because I was worried you’d be concerned about your best friend. If you’re angry about that, I fail to see the logic.】** I deleted our entire chat history without replying. Then I opened Instagram. Ethan had just posted a new story. A picture of a latte, with a caption: **【Woke up at 11 and there’s a perfect latte waiting for me. How did I get so lucky? 🙏】** My grip on my phone tightened, my knuckles turning white. It was just a picture of a coffee, but I knew, with absolute certainty, that Chloe had made it for him. Because I love lattes. One year, for my birthday, I’d wished that I could wake up every morning to a latte with foam art. So Chloe learned how to do it. But she could only ever make one design: a heart. And the tip of the heart always had a little tail, a long, thin line trailing off, exactly like the one in Ethan’s picture. Chloe had liked his post. The chat exploded. **【Poor baby. He’s lived alone for so long. Now he finally has her with him. ❤️】** **【LMAO the husband is probably still waiting for Chloe to come find him and apologize. Joke’s on him. He missed his chance this morning. If he played his cards right, he could’ve at least been the ‘ex-husband.’ Now he’s just an ex-boyfriend.】** I ignored the comments. I went to Ethan’s post and left a comment of my own. **【That’s the only design she knows how to make.】** 5 Because of that comment, my phone rang almost immediately. It was Chloe. Her voice, usually so detached, was sharp with accusation. “Liam, are you serious?” “You were the one who told me Ethan liked coffee. He was drunk and hadn’t eaten anything all night, so I made him one to settle his stomach.” “First you stand me up at the courthouse, and now you’re leaving comments like that on Ethan’s post? Why are you being so childish and irrational?” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to smother the rage flaring in my chest. But before I could speak, I heard a rustle on the other end. Ethan had taken the phone. His voice was laced with gentle reproach. “Chloe, don’t talk to Liam like that.” Then, he spoke directly to me, his tone full of concern. “Hey man, don’t be mad. And don’t… don’t blame Chloe.” He sighed. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have drunk so much last night. I’m sorry I ruined your wedding night.” He took a shaky breath, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Don’t get the wrong idea about us, okay? I swear to you, nothing happened between us. Chloe… she really loves you.” He said it with such familiarity, such confidence. “If she didn’t really love you, she never would have been with you this long. She never would have agreed to marry you…” Ethan’s voice cut off abruptly. There was a fumbling sound, and I knew Chloe had snatched the phone back. But in the split second before she hung up, I heard her ask him one thing, her voice choked with pain. “Ethan, is that what you really think?” The line went dead. A heavy, suffocating pressure built in my chest. I stared at the dark screen of my phone, feeling completely numb. **【I SHIP IT SO HARD. Who else felt that raw, hidden love in his voice? I’m dying.】** **【And Chloe! Can you imagine being misunderstood like that by the man you love? Chloe, stop holding back! Just tell him the truth already!】** **【The husband is gonna be so lost. He ran away from home and tried to cause drama on Insta to get her attention, but her mind is completely on the ML right now. She’s not gonna give him a second thought.】** **【LMAO he really thought he was so important to her. She hasn’t even realized he moved out yet!】** I put my phone down and let out a short, bitter laugh. So, *this* is what Chloe was like when she was truly in love. She didn’t not know how to love someone. She just didn’t know how to love *me*. I ignored the chat and called a real estate agent. I listed the house. Since it was newly renovated and I priced it to sell, I found a buyer almost immediately. They were a young couple, desperate to move in. So, even before the contracts were signed, I agreed to let them start moving their things into the house. At their request, I had the place completely cleared out. All the furniture we’d spent six months picking out together, gone. As I stood in the empty space that was once our “home,” I thought I would feel sad. Instead, I felt a profound sense of relief. As if a crushing weight had finally been lifted from my shoulders. The woman who was only *learning* to love me… I could finally let her go. 6 I didn’t contact Chloe for the next few days. But I saw traces of her all over Ethan’s Instagram. A picture of them at a trendy hot pot place famous for date nights. A selfie of them standing in front of their old high school. A series of stories from a road trip they had promised each other they’d take when they were kids. By the time they got back, my lawyer had the sales contract for the house drawn up. All it needed was Chloe’s signature to completely sever the last tie between us. So, for the first time in over a week, I called her. The chat went insane. **【Look look look! The side character finally caved! He’s calling her!】** **【LMAO what’s the point? She and Ethan are *this* close to getting back together. He’s been sitting around waiting for her to come home and apologize while his whole life got stolen from under him.】** **【For real. And this whole ‘selling the house’ stunt to make her jealous? Does he really think she’ll care?】** **【Got my popcorn ready. Can’t wait to watch him throw a massive tantrum about the house. The bigger the scene he makes, the more gentle and perfect our ML looks. This is the final push they need!】** **【Yessss, my OTP is finally getting their happy ending!】** Chloe picked up. Before I could say anything, she spoke. “Not mad anymore?” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. So, this whole time, she was just waiting for me to be the one to break the silence, to be the one to apologize. The truth was, I wasn’t mad anymore. Because I didn’t care anymore. “We need to meet, Chloe,” I said calmly. There was a pause on the other end, followed by a low, airy chuckle. “Fine. I’ll come home tonight.” “Don’t,” I said. “Let’s meet somewhere else.” “Why?” she asked. I hesitated. I decided it was better to tell her about the house in person. “It’s… not convenient,” I said vaguely. After all, the new owners had already moved in. It wouldn’t be right to barge in on them. 7 I never expected Chloe to go back to the “marital home” that evening. I booked a table at a Sichuan restaurant, texted her the address, and went back to focusing on my new startup. When I finished up and checked my phone, I saw a message from her, sent half an hour earlier. **【Ethan is going to join us for dinner.】** **【No matter what, you two are best friends. And you really did misunderstand him.】** **【I expect you to apologize to him, and then we can put this behind us. We can go back to our lives, and you two can go back to being friends.】** **【Oh, and Ethan can’t eat spicy food, so the Sichuan place is out. He offered to cook a few dishes at our place. Swing by the market on your way home and pick these up.】** She sent a long list of groceries. It was mostly seafood. I knew Ethan loved seafood. What I didn’t know was that Chloe had apparently forgotten that I’m deathly allergic to it. I ignored the list and was about to call and tell her not to go to the house when my phone rang. I answered, and Chloe’s voice, tight with fury, snarled in my ear. “Liam, why is there a couple living in our house, and why didn’t you think to ask for my opinion?!” “This is our HOME! How could you just let your friends move in without telling me?” “I’m on my way,” I said, and hung up. 8 When I got there, Chloe and Ethan were standing side-by-side on the porch, their faces grim. The couple who had bought the house were blocking the doorway, looking furious. The guy was only wearing a pair of boxers, half-unzipped, and the woman had thrown on a silk robe, her face flushed. The second they saw me, they rushed over. “Mr. Hayes, what the hell is going on? Did you sell this house without telling your wife?” “We already wired the money! If you back out now, you’ll be in breach of contract!” “That’s it, we already called the cops! This needs to be sorted out, right now!” I apologized profusely and managed to calm them down before I walked over to Chloe. Before I could speak, she hissed, her jaw tight. “Liam, if you wanted to let your friends stay here, I wouldn’t have cared. But you could have at least given me a heads-up! Do you have any idea what they were doing in our house? When I opened the door, they were on the couch—” She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. Ethan finished for her, his face pale with disgust. “Dude, seriously. This is yours and Chloe’s home. For your friends to be doing… *that*… in here, it’s just not right.” Looking at their horrified expressions, I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. No wonder the new owners were so pissed. These two had walked in on something they shouldn’t have seen. “You think this is funny?” Chloe stared at me in disbelief. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” I sobered up and pulled the neatly folded sales agreement from my briefcase. “Sorry about that. I was going to tell you over dinner tonight. I really didn’t expect you to bring Ethan back here.” I handed her the document. “They aren’t my friends, Chloe.” “Technically, this is their property now.” “I sold them the house.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385091”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

As the Stark family’s sole heiress, I was kidnapped three times before turning ten. My father assigned a hundred bodyguards; even school required a three-car bulletproof motorcade. “Choose a husband to protect you day and night,” he said. I picked Ian Taylor, the gentlest of his protégés. But on our wedding day, he withdrew all my security. Tied to a rooftop chair with a knife at my throat, I heard his cold sneer over the phone: “Sent thugs to harass Lily, and now playing victim? I just reassigned your guards to protect her for twenty-four hours. Wanted you to know fear.” With each toll of the distant clock, they took a finger. After twenty-four hours, I bled out. When I reopened my eyes, I was back to choosing a husband. My father held the same eight photos. This time, I skipped Ian’s face, pointing to the reckless grin in the corner. But my father said, “That man is already dead.” 1 I stared at the eight photographs in my father’s hand. My finger traced a path over Ian Taylor’s chiseled, gentle face and landed squarely on the man at the very bottom—the one with the sun-kissed skin and the cocky smile. My father froze. “Sierra? I thought Ian was your favorite. Why choose Kai Donovan?” My hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into my palm. Kai Donovan. A star athlete since childhood, he was also the most notorious playboy in our elite circle. His skin was tanned from countless hours on the racetrack, his nights spent in clubs with a rotating cast of glamorous women. My father despised him, eventually shipping him off to manage a dead-end project in some remote, godforsaken mountain range. But I remembered. In my last life, as I bled out on that rooftop, the last thing I saw before I threw myself over the edge was Kai, his face a mask of raw terror and heartbreak, sprinting toward me as if he could outrun death itself. “Him,” I said, my voice trembling. My father frowned and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. He stopped, a flicker of awkwardness on his face. He didn’t even have Kai’s number saved. How ironic. All eight men were his adopted “sons,” his wards, yet Kai wasn’t even worthy of a contact entry. His executive assistant called back within minutes. “Sir, Kai Donovan was killed last month in Redstone Canyon. There was a mudslide.” My father sighed. “Sierra, just pick someone else. Ian is—” “Then I choose no one.” I shot to my feet, my throat tight. “If I can’t have him, I don’t want anyone.” In my past life, the other so-called “brothers” had either fawned over Ian’s cousin or watched my suffering with cold amusement. If I had to live again, I would rather be alone than be stabbed in the back by their false kindness. I stumbled out of the office, Kai’s final expression burned into my mind. If even he was dead, who in this world would fight for me? Suddenly, a cold hand clamped around my wrist. I looked up. It was Ian. And standing beside him, her slender frame leaning against his, was Lily Reid. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she had suffered a terrible injustice. Ian’s expression was gentle, but his words were hard. “Sierra, Lily isn’t well. Your mountain spa is just sitting empty. Let her go there to recuperate for a few days. She hasn’t been sleeping, and her cough is getting worse.” The old me would have melted, would have agreed instantly. This time, I just gave them a detached glance. “No.” I pulled out my phone and dialed my assistant. “Lock the gates to the estate. Don’t let any trash wander in.” Ian’s face darkened. “Sierra!” He tightened his grip on my wrist, the pressure painful. “She’s my cousin. She’ll be your family soon too. Can’t you be a little more understanding?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound, and ripped my arm from his grasp. “Who said anything about being family with you?” His eyes widened as if I’d struck him. “What has gotten into you? Is this because Lily wore your hairpin that one time? You have rooms full of jewelry. What’s the big deal if she borrows one thing?” On cue, Lily began to sob, tears clinging to her lashes. “Ian, it’s okay… Miss Stark looks down on me. I… I was never worthy…” I had no patience for this melodrama. I turned to leave. “I said no. That’s the end of it.” Back in my suite, I threw myself under the covers and slept. The dizzying sensation of rebirth still echoed in my head, a disorienting hum that was only broken by the shrill ring of my phone. “Miss Stark!” my assistant’s panicked voice cried. “Mr. Taylor and Miss Reid forced their way into the estate! I couldn’t stop them! All the guards listened to him…” I shot upright in bed. The memories of my kidnapping flashed before my eyes. The bodyguards who were supposed to protect me had done the same thing then, abandoning me without a second thought on Ian’s command, leaving me to the mercy of my captors. When I stormed into the spa, one of the guards actually had the audacity to block my path. “Miss Stark, Mr. Taylor gave orders that no one is to disturb them.” Crack. The sound of my hand striking his face echoed in the marble hall. “You eat my family’s food, and you take orders from him?” I was shaking with fury. “Get out of my sight. Now.” I threw open the doors to the main thermal pool, and the scene before me made my blood run cold. 2 Through the rising steam, Lily Reid was draped over the edge of the pool, her body languid, her cheeks flushed with an unnatural, feverish pink. “Ian… I feel so dizzy…” Before the words were even out of her mouth, she went limp, sliding bonelessly beneath the water’s surface. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ian dove in and swept her into his arms. Water streamed down his sharp jawline, dripping onto her bare shoulder. “Ian,” I said, my voice cutting through the humid air. “I told you. You are not welcome here.” He froze, and in his arms, Lily’s eyelashes fluttered. “Sierra!” Panic flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by anger. “Do you have to be so aggressive? She almost fainted! Can’t you have a shred of decency?” Suddenly, Lily struggled out of his embrace and fell to her knees before me with a splash, her forehead hitting the stone floor with a sickening thud. “Miss Stark, I’m sorry! It’s all my fault!” Blood trickled down her pale cheek. She lunged forward, grabbing my legs, but in the next second, she recoiled as if shoved, tumbling back into the pool. She thrashed wildly in the water. “Help! My leg is cramping…!” Ian dove in again, scooping her up. When he emerged, his eyes were filled with disgust. “You’ve gone too far, Sierra!” He lunged forward and shoved me hard. I fell backward into the pool, my arm slamming against the stone wall with a sharp crack of pain, a deep bruise already forming. “If you ever bully Lily like this again,” he said, cradling the shivering girl in his arms, his voice like ice, “I will not marry you.” As I watched them leave, I dragged myself out of the water, bruised and humiliated. “Everyone who let them in today is fired! Get them off my property!” I was changing when my assistant rushed in. “Miss Stark! We found a lead on Kai Donovan!” I drove through the night to Redstone Canyon, the storm-ravaged mountain roads a treacherous river of mud. I had just checked into a small motel in the nearest town when a large hand grabbed me from behind, pulling me into a dark alley. A warm palm clamped firmly over my mouth. I looked up in terror and met a pair of eyes that shone like stars in the darkness. “Kai?!” He snatched his hand away, his face flushing crimson beneath his mask. “Miss Stark, what are you doing in a place like this…?” “You’re not dead?” My voice was a shaky whisper. He scratched his head awkwardly, revealing a charmingly crooked canine tooth. “There was a traitor in my division on this project. The mudslide was the perfect cover to fake my death and smoke him out.” “You know how to do things like that?” I asked, surprised. His bright smile dimmed. “Is that a disappointment? Did you… did you always think I was just some idiot?” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I grabbed his hand, my grip desperate. “Listen to me! You have to be back before the 8th, for the wedding!” His body went rigid, the light in his eyes extinguished. “Right. Your wedding. I’ll be there.” “You idiot,” I stomped my foot in frustration. “It’s our—” “Boss! The traitor is making a run for it!” a voice shouted from down the alley. Kai took a frantic step back. “Miss Stark, it could be dangerous here. Please, go back! I promise I’ll be at the wedding!” And just like that, he was gone, his figure vanishing into the darkness. I stood there, a thousand thoughts swirling in my mind. In my past life, he was the one I paid the least attention to. Everyone said he was all brawn and no brains, a simpleton who was only good for nightclubs and extreme sports. Not like Ian, always impeccably dressed in a tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses, a master of strategy. But it was always Kai who was sent to handle the most marginalized projects, the most difficult clients. Thinking back now, those “marginalized projects” involved dealing with the most unsavory, dangerous characters. How could anyone handle that without being cunning and extraordinarily capable? On the drive back, I had my assistant create a new digital wedding invitation and send it to Kai. It was well past midnight when my phone finally lit up with his reply. “Miss, you wrote the groom’s name wrong. You should fix it.” The “typing…” bubble flickered for a long time before another message appeared. “Don’t worry. I’ll definitely be there to see you get married.” I couldn’t help but smile. He wouldn’t believe anything I said now. I would just have to explain it to him in person when he returned. My phone buzzed again and again with messages from Ian. “Lily deserves an apology from you.” “Stop being so childish.” I opened our chat and, without a second thought, deleted him. 3 Knowing Kai was not only alive but far more brilliant than I had ever imagined filled me with a sense of hope I hadn’t felt in two lifetimes. I began to throw myself into the wedding preparations. One afternoon, I pushed open the glass door of the bridal boutique, only to be assaulted by a wave of cheap, cloying perfume. “Ian~ Do I look beautiful in this?” Lily’s saccharine voice made my skin crawl. She was standing in front of a mirror, admiring herself in the custom-made wedding gown my mother had designed for me. Ian gazed at her, his voice soft. “Lily, you look beautiful in everything.” “Oh, stop~ You always know just what to say~” she cooed, twirling around and sending another noxious cloud of perfume into the air. I forced down my rage and walked toward them. The moment Ian saw me, his face went rigid. He instinctively stepped in front of Lily, his voice a carefully constructed mask of gentleness. “Sierra, don’t misunderstand. Lily’s health… she might not… she might not live to see her own wedding day. She just wanted to feel what it’s like to wear a wedding dress.” Lily began to cough delicately. “Take it off,” I said, my voice ice. Lily’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Miss Stark, I’m so sorry. I was just so envious of you.” She clutched at Ian’s sleeve, her body trembling. “It’s all my fault, don’t be angry with Ian…” Ian’s expression hardened. “You’re going to marry me anyway. What does it matter if she tries it on? Can’t you just let her have this one moment of happiness?” “I said, take it off,” I repeated, each word a shard of glass. I turned my glare on the terrified shop assistants. “When did my bespoke gown become available for anyone to try on?” The two assistants scrambled to help Lily out of the dress, leaving red marks on her pale arms. Lily was sobbing hysterically now. “I’m sorry! I’m worthless! I don’t deserve to wear something so beautiful!” She suddenly went limp, her knees buckling. Ian lunged forward to catch her, then turned to me, his voice a furious roar. “Are you satisfied now, Sierra?” “Disinfect it three times,” I said, my nose wrinkled in disgust. “I don’t want a trace of that smell left on it.” Lily covered her face and ran out of the shop. Ian glared at me, his face a thundercloud, before slamming the door behind him. That evening, my assistant sidled up to me, her eyes sparkling with gossip. “Miss Stark, you’ll never guess what happened! That frail little flower, Lily Reid, got hit by a car today! I heard she broke her leg!” She gestured excitedly. “If you ask me, it’s karma! Everyone knows Ian is your fiancé, but she’s always clinging to him, acting all innocent. It’s disgusting!” I swirled the red wine in my glass, a cold smile touching my lips. “Who told you Ian was my fiancé?” My assistant’s eyes went wide, the fruit platter in her hands nearly tumbling to the floor. “Miss Stark, are you saying…?” “Have the wedding planner change the groom’s name on the invitations,” I said, taking a sip of wine. “To Kai Donovan.” “Yes!” my assistant cheered, clapping her hands. “That Ian guy seems nice enough, but he has no boundaries! He and Lily are always together. He’s such a flirt.” I had to smile. Even my assistant could see it so clearly. How had I been so blind in my past life? Love, it seemed, was truly a blinding force. I sighed at the thought. The next morning, as I stepped out of the company headquarters, something was thrown over my head, plunging me into darkness. A burlap sack. “Who are you?! Let me go!” I struggled, but my attackers were rough, shoving me into a car. My back slammed against the door, and I gasped in pain. A familiar, paralyzing fear washed over me. The memories of my past kidnappings came flooding back. “Please! I’ll give you whatever you want!” My voice trembled uncontrollably, tears soaking the rough fabric over my eyes. The only response was a suffocating silence. Then, a familiar scent drifted into the small space. The sharp, clean smell of Ian’s signature cologne. My heart sank like a stone. “What… what do you want from me…?” “Someone wants me to teach you a lesson,” a voice said, low and intentionally disguised. Even though I had already decided never to marry him, the fact that he was doing this, that he was capable of this, shattered something inside me. THUD. An iron bar slammed into my leg. The pain was so intense my vision went black. A tearing agony ripped through my chest, but I gritted my teeth, refusing to let him know I recognized him. I curled into a ball in the corner of the trunk, my silent tears soaking the sack. The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was his cold, dispassionate voice. “Remember this lesson.” 4 The iron bar landed with a sickening thud. Once, twice, three times… Fifteen times. I could hear the crack of my own bones. The pain finally dragged me into unconsciousness. I was dumped like trash at the gates of the Stark estate. The antiseptic smell of the hospital was overwhelming. From the VIP suite next to mine, I could hear Lily’s voice. “Ian, you’ve been here with me every day. You must be so exhausted!” My heart felt like it was being crushed. Ian. To get revenge for Lily, you were capable of this. “My daughter!” My father rushed in and hugged me, his voice shaking. “Who did this? I swear, I will make them wish they were never born!” “Dad, it’s okay,” I said, forcing a smile through the pain. “Just… hire me a new security team.” I took a breath. “And by the way, Kai is alive. When we get married, he’ll protect me too.” After my father left, I hobbled to the window on my crutches. In the garden below, Ian was spinning Lily around in his arms. She leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made the tips of his own turn red. He was smiling, a tender, genuine smile I had never once received. The day before the wedding, Kai arrived, looking like he’d just stepped out of a dust storm. He carefully pulled a smooth, warm piece of jade from his pocket. “Miss Stark, a wedding gift!” “The groom is finally here,” I said with a smile, my voice loud enough for everyone to hear. Kai froze, his eyes instantly turning red. His lips trembled, but no words came out. My assistant quietly informed me that Ian hadn’t been seen for days. I scoffed. He was waiting for me to break, for me to come crawling back and beg him to marry me. He was in for a disappointment. That night, my phone buzzed. It was a video from Lily. The shaky footage showed her and Ian, tangled together in bed. It was disgusting. A moment later, the video was deleted. “Pathetic,” I muttered, turning off my phone. Their games were laughable now. From my window, I saw Kai standing alone under the stars, looking up at my room. He gave me a small wave, his smile warm and steady. In that moment, a profound sense of peace settled over me for the first time. On the morning of the wedding, my phone rang. “If you apologize to Lily right now, I will come and marry you,” Ian said, his voice as arrogant as ever. “Not necessary,” I replied, hanging up without another word, a cold smile playing on my lips. At the venue, the guests were whispering amongst themselves. “Where is Ian Taylor?” “Is the wedding going to be canceled?” I ignored them all, taking Kai’s arm and walking down the aisle. His bicep was tense, but he held me so gently, careful not to hurt my still-healing leg. “Let us congratulate Mr. Kai Donovan and the heiress of the Stark family!” the officiant’s voice boomed. At that exact moment, the grand doors to the hall were thrown open. Ian stood there, his face as white as a sheet. The bouquet of flowers in his hand fell to the floor with a soft thud. I smiled, and under his stunned, disbelieving gaze, I pulled Kai closer and kissed him.

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Three years with Ethan Hayes, and our relationship still came with a price list. Dinner: two thousand dollars. A date: ten thousand. One night in his bed: thirty thousand. Then one day, I found out I was pregnant. My brain took a few seconds to reboot. I stared at the man across from me, all aristocratic distance even in a hospital gown, and asked him point-blank: “Ethan, do you have a hundred million dollars?” 1 He was completely baffled. He was wearing an oversized, sterile-white patient gown, but it did nothing to diminish the sharp, handsome lines of his face. His dark eyes, intense and focused, locked onto me. “What’s this about?” “Why are you asking that all of a sudden?” He let a slow, wicked grin spread across his lips, a look that seemed entirely too healthy for a sick man. “What, you want to work your way up to a hundred million?” “Ahem.” I nearly choked on my own spit. “That’s not what I meant, obviously. I mean…” The words what if I had your baby for a hundred million were right on the tip of my tongue, but then his expression shuttered. “If that’s not what you meant, then drop it,” he said, his voice clipped and cold. “There’s nothing for us to talk about.” That familiar, heartless indifference sent a chill through me. Right. How could I forget? Ethan Hayes was a devout member of the no-marriage, no-kids club. We’d agreed from day one: no messy feelings, no talk of love. This was purely a physical arrangement. If he found out about the baby… He’d assume I’d engineered the whole thing, a honey trap to secure a payday. Forget a hundred million; he’d probably demand I pay back every cent he’d ever given me. Better not. I silently tightened my grip on the clinic report tucked in my purse, making sure to keep it hidden behind my back. “Oh. It was nothing, then.” Ethan didn’t press the issue. He never had any real feelings for me anyway. He just needed someone to have dinner with. And to share his bed. But this month had been… inconvenient. His two-hundred-thousand-dollar quota for my time had already been maxed out by the middle of the month. So… As the man pinned me against the stiff hospital bed, his lips tracing a path down from my earlobe, my body went rigid. The moment his fingers grazed the top button of my blouse, a jolt of panic shot through me. I scrambled away from him, putting a good three feet of distance between us. “The monthly limit has been reached!” I announced, my voice a little too loud. “We can’t do… that!” Ethan’s handsome face clouded over with irritation. He stared at me, his voice oozing with the casual arrogance of the ultra-rich. “I’ll pay more.” “No!” Pay more for what? So he could accidentally jeopardize the baby? For the first time in our arrangement, me, the girl who would do anything for money, said no. Ethan’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion in their depths. My heart hammered against my ribs. I blurted out the first lie that came to mind. “I’m… I’m not feeling well this month. And I’m swamped with work. The most I can do is keep you company while you’re sick. Nothing else!” With that, I turned to leave, desperate to get away before he somehow discovered the secret I was hiding on my phone. His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. His voice was as cold and hard as ever. “So, the only way I can see you this month is if I’m sick?” I thought about Ethan’s year-round gym habit. The man was built like a bull. I nodded decisively. “That’s right! Only when you’re sick!” 2 A shadow passed over Ethan’s deep-set eyes. He looked like he was about to say something else, but just then, the doctor walked in, clipboard in hand. “Mr. Hayes, good news. It’s just a common cold, probably from taking a cold shower in this weather. Nothing serious. You’re clear for discharge.” A cold shower? What kind of maniac takes a cold shower in the middle of winter? Was he nuts? I shot Ethan a look you’d give a complete idiot. I sent a silent prayer to the universe: please, let the baby inherit his father’s looks. But for the love of God, not his brains. “Alright, you heard the man. You can go home,” I said, backing toward the door. “So, let’s just not see each other for the rest of the month, okay? See you next month, Mr. Hayes!” See him next month? Not if I could help it. I fled back to my apartment like a fugitive, frantically throwing a few things into a suitcase. I had to find somewhere to go, somewhere Ethan would never find me while I figured out this whole pregnancy thing. My best friend, Sarah, was stunned when I told her. “You’re… you’re just going to keep it? Just like that?” “Of course!” I said without a sliver of hesitation, stuffing another sweater into my already-full luggage. “You know my story. I grew up with no family, a total orphan. My whole plan was to save up enough money to go abroad, do IVF, and make a family for myself.” I beamed. “Well, look at this! My little family just showed up ahead of schedule!” And with Ethan’s genes, the kid was guaranteed to be gorgeous. My mind made up, I pulled out my phone to book a flight—any flight out of here. Sarah still looked hesitant. “But the month isn’t over yet. What if Ethan gets sick again and calls you?” “Not a chance,” I said, waving a dismissive hand. “The guy’s a beast. He works out every single day. There’s no way he gets sick twice in one month…” Before the words were even out of my mouth, my phone rang. It was Ethan’s assistant. “Ms. Miller, good evening. Mr. Hayes has been admitted to the hospital again. He’s asking if you could come by.” As if sensing my hesitation, the assistant added, “This is, of course, within the terms of your monthly retainer. We would appreciate it if you could come promptly.” Same hospital, same private suite. In the span of one week, I made the trip seven times. Yes. Once a day. Monday, it was a fever. Tuesday, another cold. Wednesday, he broke out in a rash. Thursday, he sprained his ankle… After a full week of this, I stood over the hospital bed, looking at the man who was now covered in a patchwork of bandages and minor injuries. For the first time, I began to seriously question the physical fortitude of this titan of industry. “Ethan,” I began, “do you have an inner-ear problem? Maybe an issue with your motor skills?” How else could a man sprain his ankle three separate times just walking out the hospital doors? And dislocate his shoulder? Ethan’s eyes, cold and sharp, flicked up to meet mine. “Are you questioning my abilities?” “No,” I said, speaking the honest truth. It wasn’t his abilities I was questioning. It was his intelligence. Can stupidity be inherited? I wondered, my eyes scanning him from head to toe. My gaze unconsciously paused on a certain area— Suddenly, his hand shot out and yanked me forward. I stumbled, a gasp escaping my lips as his scent—clean, masculine, and overwhelmingly familiar—enveloped me. Before I could react, he cupped my chin, his mouth crashing down on mine in a brutal, possessive kiss. “Mmph—” The force of it was too much. I’d been fighting off waves of morning sickness for days, and the sudden movement sent a violent lurch through my stomach. I struggled, trying to push him away, but his grip only tightened, pinning me against him. He moved against my lips, his voice a low, guttural growl against my mouth. “You won’t even let me touch you…” “Gag—!” And then it happened. I threw up. A splash of indeterminate liquid sprayed across the front of his pristine white hospital gown. He froze, his face a mask of pure fury. “Zoe Miller! Are you that disgusted by me? You actually threw up from a kiss!” 3 I couldn’t explain. There was no way to explain. Looking at his furious expression, the undisguised revulsion in his beautiful eyes, an idea—a desperate, brilliant idea—flashed in my mind. “Yes!” I declared, my voice shaking but firm. “I’m sick of you! I don’t want to play this game anymore! We’re done!” Ethan didn’t try to stop me. He just stared at me, his gaze cold and piercing, for a long, silent moment. Finally, he asked, his voice low and dangerous, “Zoe, are you sure you know what you’re saying?” The deep, powerful timber of his voice was laced with a pressure that was almost physical. And then… Blech. I threw up again. This time, it was more violent, a series of heaves that felt like I was trying to turn myself inside out. Jeez. Ethan’s temper was explosive, and it looked like the baby had inherited it. I was so consumed by my own misery that I didn’t see the flash of raw hurt in Ethan’s eyes. By the time I could breathe again, he was gone. Only his assistant remained, holding out a sleek, black credit card. “Ms. Miller, Mr. Hayes asked me to give you this. He said it’s a severance payment.” A titan to the very end. Even his breakups were generous. But… As I watched his silhouette—limping slightly, impossibly lonely—disappear down the long, sterile corridor, a strange ache bloomed in my chest. “Honey, you’re in love with him.” Sarah’s voice was matter-of-fact from the passenger seat of the taxi speeding toward the airport. “No way,” I retorted, clutching my stomach as another wave of nausea rolled over me. I took a sip of water, forcing it down. “It’s a business transaction, that’s all! How could I possibly be in love with him?” Sarah just shrugged. “No need to get defensive. It’s obvious he’s into you, too.” “Why else would he give you a black card?” “Because he has more money than he knows what to do with!” My heart gave a painful thud. Ethan likes me? Impossible. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, trying to ignore the sour knot of sadness in my gut. “He’s never been anything but cold to me. How could that be love? Besides, everyone knows about his college girlfriend, the great lost love of his life. They say he’s never gotten over her. He couldn’t possibly fall for someone like me.” I bit my lip, a sadness I couldn’t name welling up inside me. Sarah sighed. “I don’t know what kind of soap opera you two are starring in, but I bet you if you called him right now, he’d come running.” Me, call Ethan? You’ve got to be kidding. In three years, I had never once initiated a call. He was always too busy. He wouldn’t pick up. And besides… I rested a hand on my still-flat stomach. “I’m about to leave this city for good,” I murmured. “We’ll never see each other again…” My words were cut short by the deafening screech of tires and a massive, violent impact. My world tilted sideways, then went black. 4 I woke up in a hospital. As my eyes fluttered open, a young nurse holding a chart beamed at me. “You are so incredibly lucky. It was a huge accident, but you just have a small scrape on your forehead and a minor concussion. No other injuries.” She leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes shining. “Your boyfriend was so worried, though. He insisted we run a full battery of tests. Seriously, where did you find a guy who’s that handsome and that devoted?” Boyfriend? Who? Did I have one of those? I was still trying to process her words when Ethan strode into the room. He looked like he’d been through a war. His usually immaculate overcoat was smudged with dirt, and his deep eyes were locked on me with an intensity that felt like it could pull me under. The boyfriend… she couldn’t possibly mean him, could she? The nurse turned to him. “See? The test results are all back. I told you your girlfriend was perfectly fine.” The test results? A jolt of pure ice shot through my veins. I stared at him, my mind racing. Oh God, please don’t let him know. Please. The tests were for the crash, not for… not for inside stuff, right? I prayed, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. But my hope was shattered by the low, cold timber of his voice. “Zoe Miller, you’ve got some nerve.” He took a step closer, his shadow falling over me. “Thinking you could run away with my child?”

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