Category: English

1 The night before the mission, Elara, my ever-composed wife, couldn’t sleep. I knew she still had feelings for the man who killed my family. I gave her a choice: leave the mission and sign the divorce papers, or cut him out of her life forever. She spent the night violently punching the gym bags. By morning, she was bruised and hoarse but resolved. “I’m with you,” she vowed. “I’ll see this revenge through.” The firefight was intense. We were about to win—until she pressed her gun to my temple. Her hands shook as she cried, “I know he killed your family… But they’re gone! Why can’t you let it go? I love him. Please, let him go.” Furious but helpless, I watched him walk away unharmed, smirking. Within minutes, I became the joke of my own team. Then came the final blow: photos of Elara and Adrian getting married, spread across every news feed and dark web forum. That was when my heart turned to stone. If you insist on crushing my last shred of dignity, don’t blame me for what happens next. … Staring at their retreating figures, something inside me snapped. “Elara, how could you?” The words ripped from my throat, raw and full of hate. “What about my parents? They died protecting you from that monster! Have you forgotten that?!” She flinched, her steps faltering. When she turned back, her eyes were bloodshot, her voice a fragile whisper. “Caleb, Mom and Dad wouldn’t want this! They wouldn’t want to see you consumed by this hatred!” “Let Adrian go,” she pleaded. “Isn’t that a way of letting yourself go, too?” Thirty minutes. That’s all it took. The dark web forums exploded. “Elara Thorne Betrays Mercenary King for His Sworn Enemy.” 【Can’t believe the great Caleb Thorne can’t even control his own wife. Watched her run off with his nemesis? How’s he ever going to show his face again?】 【Talks a big game, acts all tough, but turns out he’s just another lovesick fool. Pathetic.】 【Hey Thorne, you give me that disputed territory on the Serrovian border, and I’ll send you two hundred women to help you get over her.】 Overnight, I went from being the most feared name in the private military world—a god of war—to a global punchline. The entire underworld was laughing at my expense. I stared at the screen, each taunt a fresh log on the fire of my rage. But before I could even formulate a response, Elara provoked me again, this time publicly. She posted on a high-profile forum, a beacon of sanctimony: 【An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind. I am willing to broker a peace summit between the two leaders to end this needless bloodshed.】 She even had the audacity to tag me and Adrian. The fury that shot through me was blinding. How dare she? How dare she presume to forgive the man who slaughtered my parents on my behalf? And yet… I agreed to the meeting. How else was I going to personally send that fucking pair to hell? The forums erupted once more. 【HOLY SHIT! Thorne is actually going? Is there no limit to how much of a doormat this guy can be?】 【LMAO, is this a throuple situation now? One big happy family?】 【Two warlords fighting over a woman. This is the dark web’s reality TV show of the year!】 I said nothing. I simply had my tech division lock onto the IPs of the three loudest commentators. That night, three precision-guided missiles found their targets. The resulting fireballs turned a thirty-mile radius into a scorched wasteland, a barren scar on the earth where nothing would grow for a decade. 【So you can dish it out but you can’t take it? Real classy, Thorne!】 【Got the balls to bomb random posters but not your actual enemy? What a coward!】 I didn’t respond. Results were always more persuasive than rhetoric. The day of the “peace talk,” Elara specifically requested I come alone. I agreed. But not before positioning a thousand of my best soldiers in concealed positions around the summit location. One word from me, and they could assemble and overwhelm the site in under sixty seconds. When Elara saw me, she forced a smile and rushed forward, ready to play peacemaker. “Caleb, Adrian knows he was wrong. He’s here today to personally apologize to you.” Adrian stood, offering a deep, formal bow. “Thorne. I’m sorry.” A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “You think three empty words are enough to pay for the lives of my parents?” Elara’s face hardened. She grabbed my arm, her voice sharp. “Caleb! We came here to talk, to make peace! What the hell is this attitude?!” I shoved her away, the back of my hand connecting with her cheek in a sharp crack. “For what he did,” I snarled, “the only outcome is one of us in a body bag.” Seeing me strike her, Adrian immediately moved to shield her, his voice a low threat. “Caleb Thorne, my men swept this place. You came alone. Today, you either accept my apology, or you don’t leave here alive.” I couldn’t help it. I laughed out loud, a harsh, grating sound. I raised a hand, pointing languidly toward the window. “Open your eyes, you idiot. There are at least a hundred rifles aimed at your heads right now. If I so much as twitch a finger, you’ll both be turned into human confetti.” Their faces went pale. A quick, panicked scan of the surrounding rooftops confirmed I wasn’t bluffing. Adrian scoffed, trying to regain his composure. “So what? If I’m going down, taking the great Caleb Thorne with me is a fair trade. We die together! Then you can have a happy little reunion with your useless parents.” He dared. He dared to mention my parents again. The rage I had suppressed for so long finally detonated. My fist crashed into his face with the force of a battering ram. I felt his nose give way with a sickening crunch. A second later, he wiped the blood from his lip, a savage grin spreading across his face as he launched a heavy kick at my chest. I dodged, grabbing him and slamming him to the floor. In one fluid motion, I drew my combat knife and pressed the blade to his throat. “You want to die with me?” I whispered, my voice deadly calm. “Dream on. I’m sending you to hell first.” I pressed the blade down. A line of crimson welled up along the steel. “Caleb! Don’t, I’m pregnant…” Elara’s voice shattered the moment. She threw herself at me, pushing me back and shielding Adrian with her own body, her voice trembling. “I don’t want my child to grow up without a father… Please, let him go… I’m begging you!” The words hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled back, collapsing into a chair, the world spinning around me. A child. They had a child. Tears streamed down Elara’s face, but all I could see was the ultimate betrayal. Five months? Was that all it took? Five short months for her to completely turn, to beg me to forget the murder of my parents, to spare the life of her new lover. But why should I? We were married for three years, and we never had children. She was the one who said she didn’t want to be “trapped by a baby,” confined to a home. She wanted to fight by my side, to be my equal, a legend in her own right. And now? Now she was telling me she was carrying the child of the man who destroyed my world? How could she? In that moment of stunned silence, Adrian saw his chance. He lunged, wrenching the knife from my grip and pressing it back against my own neck. “Let us walk out of here, right now, or I’ll send you to see your parents!” I stared into his eyes and smiled, a chilling, dead thing. “The entire foundation of this building is wired with explosives. Enough to level this whole city block.” “The moment my heart stops,” I informed him, “a dead man’s switch will turn a fifty-mile radius into a smoking crater.” Elara’s face was a mask of horror, her eyes wide and red-rimmed. “Caleb, you’re insane… We came here to talk. You gave us your word!” My word? She had the nerve to speak to me of broken promises? “Elara, you are the most despicable thing I have ever known.” Before the words even left my mouth, I snapped my head to the side, breaking his hold and twisting the knife back into my hand. The blade sliced my palm open, blood dripping onto the floor, but I felt nothing. Expressionless, I raised my bloodied hand and gave a sharp, almost imperceptible signal. The doors and windows shattered inwards as nearly a hundred of my elite soldiers stormed the room. In seconds, all of Adrian’s hidden guards were dragged out, disarmed and subdued. I shook the blood from my hand and tossed a single sheet of paper onto the table in front of Elara. A divorce decree. “Sign it,” I ordered. “Don’t dirty my family’s name any longer.” But instead of signing, she snatched the paper and ripped it to shreds. “No,” she said, her voice shaking with a twisted sort of defiance. “I won’t. Mom and Dad treated me like their own daughter. They’re barely cold in their graves and you’re already throwing me out? Aren’t you afraid of what they would think?” She knew. She knew how much my parents had adored her. And she was using their memory as a shield for her and her monster. “A backstabbing, ungrateful bitch like you?” I spat. “My parents would be celebrating the fact that I finally see you for what you are. And don’t you dare think that marriage certificate is some kind of get-out-of-jail-free card…” Before I could finish, Adrian started barking like the dog he was. “Thorne, if you lay another finger on Elara, I’ll kill you!” “Are you still not clear on the situation here?” I looked at the pathetic, struggling pair, a wave of nausea washing over me. The next second, one of my men sent Adrian to the floor with a brutal kick to the ribs. I walked over slowly, grinding the sole of my boot into his chest. My second-in-command handed me a dagger. “Alright,” I said, my voice deceptively calm. I took the dagger. “Then I’ll start with you.” I dug the tip of the blade under his fingernail. Adrian screamed. “This is what you did to my father, isn’t it?” One by one, I pried off all ten. Then, I moved the dagger towards the palm of his hand. Suddenly, a gunshot echoed through the room, and a searing pain exploded in my shoulder. The dagger clattered to the floor.

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I crashed my ex-boyfriend’s wedding. As the crowd gathered around the couple to cut the cake, I drifted closer, leaning in to whisper a single sentence in his ear. His head snapped around. In the next instant, he plunged the cake knife into his new bride. Once, twice, three times… He stabbed her eighteen times, a savage frenzy, like an exorcism of demons. Guests scattered, their screams tearing through the festive air. A wedding painted in blood. The media descended like vultures, each reporter desperate to know what had happened. But both Kevin and I remained silent, bound by a secret understanding. After a long investigation, the police found no motive, no evidence of incitement. They could only label it a psychotic break. He was sent to a psychiatric hospital for five years. The day Kevin was released was his parents’ 70th birthday. And once again, I appeared, an unwelcome ghost, ready to whisper the same sentence into the ear of a man they called cured. 1 “You and Kevin haven’t spoken in three years,” a voice hissed beside me. “Have you no shame, showing up here to steal the groom?” Dressed in a severe black gown, I was a specter at my ex-boyfriend Kevin’s celebration of new life. His gaze, when it found me, was cold, as if I were a stranger he’d passed on the street. It lingered for a heartbeat before he turned back to his fiancée, murmuring something sweet that made her laugh. Whispers rippled through the guests, their eyes darting between me and the happy couple. Kevin’s parents, their faces hardening into masks of fury, marched over. “I don’t recall sending you an invitation,” his father growled. “If you have any decency, you’ll leave now. Don’t make a scene.” But the bride-to-be, Lily, stepped forward, a picture of grace. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice surprisingly warm. “We all go way back. I’m sure Ava is just here to wish us well.” Seeing their future daughter-in-law so composed, Kevin’s parents could say no more. They grudgingly had me seated at a table in the farthest, darkest corner of the room. The incident was quickly forgotten. Laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air once more. Then came the cake-cutting. The crowd surged forward, a wave of bodies pressing in around the towering confection. In the shuffle, I found myself pushed right up against Kevin. He had his arm wrapped around Lily’s waist, his face alight with an adoring smile. This was my chance. I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear, and spoke. His smile froze. His eyes, once so full of warmth, became terrifyingly feral, as if his very soul had been struck by lightning. He snatched the ceremonial knife and plunged it deep into Lily’s heart. Her scream was strangled by a gush of blood that blossomed across her white dress like a grotesque rose. Panic erupted. Guests shrieked and scrambled for the exits. Flowers, tablecloths, even the sky itself seemed stained crimson. And through it all, I stood perfectly still, watching him kill. I didn’t try to stop him. I didn’t run. I just watched, until the wail of sirens sliced through the chaos. 2 They put us in separate interrogation rooms. “What the hell did you say to him?” Detective Miller’s voice was a low growl, his knuckles white where he gripped the edge of the table. “Why did he snap and murder his fiancée?” I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his, my expression placid. There was no trace of the horror a witness to such brutality should feel. “I don’t know.” His fist slammed down on the metal table, the sound echoing in the sterile room. “How can you not know? A young woman is dead because of something you said!” He leaned closer, his voice raw with anger. “We’ve checked. Kevin and Lily were happy. They never fought. Nothing was wrong until you showed up.” A cold smile touched my lips. “Are my words magic, Detective? Do you really believe a single sentence from me could make a man murder the woman he loves?” He was silenced by that, his jaw tight. He knew how absurd it sounded. The investigation would have already shown him that Kevin and I hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in three years. Not a single text, not a single call. Kevin was the golden boy—brilliant, kind, compassionate. He was the kid who spent his allowance on food for stray cats, the man who had never shown a single violent impulse in his life. The police were grasping at straws, and the only straw they had was the sentence I’d whispered in his ear. “Then just tell us what you said to him. That, at least, you can do.” I met his intense gaze. “If you can prove my words are legally relevant to the crime, I’ll tell you,” I said, my voice even. “Otherwise, I can only report what I witnessed. But you don’t need me for that. You have the security footage.” “You…” Detective Miller’s face flushed with impotent rage. He glared at me, a storm brewing in his eyes, but he eventually spun on his heel and stormed out. Meanwhile, in the room next door, Kevin was faring much worse. He sat slumped in his chair, his eyes vacant, an empty shell where a person used to be. No matter how much they questioned him, he said nothing. It was as if the ability to speak had been carved out of him. 3 The moment I stepped out of the police station, I was swarmed. Kevin’s and Lily’s parents descended on me like a flock of enraged vultures. “Ava! What did you say to our son?” Kevin’s mother shrieked, her hand flying up to strike me across the face. The slap echoed in the tense silence. “I always knew you were poison! I knew you weren’t good enough for him! Why couldn’t you just let him go? Why did you have to ruin his life?” Even though her son was the killer, all her venom was directed at me. Lily’s mother, her face pale and streaked with tears, grabbed the front of my dress. “My Lily was the kindest soul,” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “She never did anything to you. Why did you tell Kevin to kill her?” Her husband stood beside her, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. “He broke up with you on his own. It had nothing to do with my daughter. Why did you take it out on her?” They screamed, they cried, they cursed me with the most vile words imaginable. I just stood there, impassive, a statue carved from ice. In the weeks that followed, reporters camped outside my door, hungry for a statement. A bizarre rumor even started that my words held some kind of dark power, and an eccentric billionaire offered a fortune just to know what I’d said. But whether they threatened or bribed, I remained silent. Six months passed. The police still had no motive for Kevin’s actions and no concrete evidence that I had incited him. In the end, they had no choice but to accept the insanity defense. The Collins family saw their opening. They poured every penny they had into Kevin’s case, hiring the best lawyers and pulling every string they could. After a protracted legal battle, they managed to get him committed to a private psychiatric facility instead of prison. To oversee his treatment, Mr. and Mrs. Collins gave up their careers. They sold their home and rented a cramped one-bedroom apartment near the hospital, dedicating their lives to his recovery. For five years, they refused my every attempt to visit. My only communication with Kevin remained that single, devastating sentence at his wedding. And then, after five years of their tireless effort, Kevin was deemed cured and released. It just so happened that the day of his release was his parents’ 70th birthday. A dual celebration. Though their fortune was gone, the Collins family decided to throw a grand party, a gala to announce their son’s return to the world. 4 I arrived at the banquet hall wearing the same black dress. An unwelcome ghost from a past they had tried so desperately to bury. The lively chatter in the hall died instantly. A strange, suffocating silence fell over the room. The smile on Mrs. Collins’s face froze, then crumbled. She rushed toward me, grabbing my arm in a surprisingly strong grip, trying to physically drag me out. “You cursed thing!” she spat, her voice a venomous whisper. “Why do you keep haunting us? Get out! Get out before I have you thrown out!” The Collins family may have lost their wealth, but they were desperate to rebuild their social standing and prove that Kevin was no longer a threat. They had gone into debt to host this party, inviting influential people from every corner of the city. It was supposed to be a declaration of his recovery, a fresh start. My appearance shattered that illusion in an instant. “Mrs. Collins, please,” I said, my voice calm, a slight smile playing on my lips as I held out a gift-wrapped box. “I’m just here to celebrate with you and Kevin.” She flinched as if the box were venomous, slapping it out of my hands. It hit the polished floor with a dull thud. “We don’t want your charity! Who knows what kind of twisted games you’re playing now!” she shrieked. “Take your things and get out of here!” The reporters in the room, smelling blood, began to circle. One of them, a man with a smirk, called out, “You seem awfully scared of her, Mrs. Collins. Are you sure Kevin is really cured? Or are you afraid he’ll start stabbing people again if she so much as looks at him?” Mrs. Collins’s face paled, but she forced a tight smile. “Of course he’s cured. The doctors have assured us he’s perfectly stable, not a threat to anyone.” She shot me a hateful glare. “But this woman… she’s a manipulator. Who knows what she might say to provoke him!” The reporter laughed coldly. “If a few ‘provoking’ words can make him kill, he belongs in a prison or an asylum, not at a party.” His words struck her like a physical blow, and she couldn’t find a response. I bent down, picked up the gift, and dusted it off, offering it to her again. This time, her hand trembling, she took it. Her thank you was a low, menacing growl. 5 Just like before, Mrs. Collins seated me at the back of the room. She and her husband hovered around Kevin like guard dogs, their eyes constantly flicking toward me, ensuring I couldn’t get close. But as the toasts began, a river of well-wishers flowed toward the head table. Caught up in the congratulations and laughter, Mr. and Mrs. Collins started to relax. A few glasses of champagne loosened their vigilance. They didn’t even notice as I picked up my own glass and slowly, deliberately, made my way toward Kevin. When it was my turn to offer a toast, I leaned in close, just as I had five years ago. And I whispered the exact same words. The change was instantaneous. The color drained from his face. His eyes widened in horror. He snatched a large carving knife from a nearby serving trolley. Before anyone could react, he lunged and plunged it deep into his mother’s stomach. Blood sprayed across the white tablecloth. Mrs. Collins stared at her son, her eyes wide with disbelief, before her body crumpled to the floor. “He’s killing again!” someone screamed. The banquet hall exploded into chaos. Chairs toppled, glasses shattered. No one dared to intervene. Mr. Collins, finally snapping out of his shock, rushed forward. “Kevin, no! Son, stop!” But Kevin was a machine of pure violence. He swung the knife wildly, slashing his father across the arms and legs. Mr. Collins collapsed, bleeding and pleading. “Son… it’s me… it’s your father…” Hearing his voice, Kevin paused, then brought the knife down in one clean, final stroke across his father’s throat. With his father dead, Kevin calmly walked back to his mother’s body. Just as he had with Lily, he began to stab her methodically, over and over, until he reached the eighteenth strike. By then, the police had arrived, sirens screaming. The scene was quickly secured. Kevin offered no resistance. He dropped the bloody knife and allowed the officers to cuff him. But this time, the family and guests didn’t just stand by. They turned on me, a furious mob. “Why aren’t you arresting her?” a cousin screamed, pointing a trembling finger at me. “She’s the one who did this! We all saw it! She whispered something to him, and he went insane!” “Yes!” others chimed in. “It was the same five years ago! She made him kill his wife!” “She’s the real murderer!” Detective Miller, who had responded to the call, recognized me instantly. He stormed over, his face a mask of cold fury. “What did you say to him?” he demanded, his voice shaking with rage. Just like five years ago, I said nothing about the words. “That’s three people dead!” he roared. “Are you still not going to talk?” Just then, a small boy pushed through the crowd, holding up a small digital camera with a proud, innocent smile. “I recorded what the lady said!” he announced. “I got it all on video!” 6 “You recorded it, buddy? Are you sure?” Detective Miller’s voice was laced with urgency as he crouched down to the boy’s level. The child, maybe five or six, blinked, clutching the camera to his chest. He seemed oblivious to the carnage around him, focused only on his achievement. “My camera was pointed right at the lady’s face,” he said, puffing out his chest. “You can see for yourself.” The crowd surged toward the boy, a wave of morbid curiosity. Miller, frowning, quickly took the camera from the child’s hands. He stared at the small screen, his eyes widening. He played the short clip back. Once. Twice. A third time. He looked up at me, his face a mixture of shock and utter disbelief. His voice trembled slightly. “You… you just said that?” he stammered. “And he killed for it?” I held his gaze, the faint, infuriating smile still on my lips. “You saw the video.” Miller’s face turned ashen. He lunged forward, grabbing the collar of my dress. “No,” he hissed, his voice dangerously low. “That can’t be it. It’s a code. There’s a hidden meaning. Tell me what you really meant!” His knuckles were white, his grip like iron. I tried to push him away but couldn’t break his hold. Finally, I sighed and let my hands fall to my sides, meeting his furious eyes without flinching. “There’s no hidden meaning. It means exactly what it sounds like. The rest is up to you to figure out.” Kevin’s remaining relatives were utterly bewildered. “What did she say?” one of them pleaded. “What were the words?” Detective Miller slowly released me, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He turned to the stunned crowd. “She only said four words,” he announced, his voice heavy with disbelief. “‘Just be yourself.’”

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The day I found out Liam was cheating again, I let out a long, slow sigh of relief. This was the latest in a long, unbroken line of betrayals, and always with the same woman. Over the phone, his breaths were shallow and quick as he claimed to be in a meeting. I stretched languidly, gazing out the window at the endless night, and hung up. I thought of the vow we’d made so long ago: If I ever betray you, may I die a horrible death. A shame no one ever actually dies from it. But the betrayal is always real. I drafted the divorce papers. This broken, rotten marriage was over. 1. Liam came home at three in the morning. He had a satisfied, languid smile on his face as he came to wrap his arms around me on the sofa. A faint trace of perfume, a scent that wasn’t mine, drifted into my nose. The old me would have flown into a rage. Where were you? Who were you with? Why does your shirt smell like that? Then would come the screaming, the crying, the sound of things breaking. Liam would soothe me with some nonsensical excuse, and I, pathetically, would believe him. But that was the old me. The me who was obsessively, blindly in love with him. I used to spend hours staring at a photo of us at seventeen. The boy in that picture, the one who had loved me with such sincerity, was frozen in time. Before he left to study abroad in London, he’d grabbed my hands, his eyes intense. “Don’t you dare betray me,” he’d said. “Whoever betrays the other will die a horrible death.” Back then, fueled by love, even a vow that dark sounded sweet. Then came the call across time zones. A girl’s voice answered his phone, telling me he was in the shower. The call didn’t end when the water shut off. I heard their panting breaths, their quiet murmurs. I knew. I sent him a novel-length breakup text. He flew back immediately to win me over, the ghost of that same perfume still clinging to him. “Kaley, she’s just a classmate. Nothing happened. We were just out for a run.” And just like that, I believed him. It seems so absurd now. Liam’s deep voice rumbled above my head, pulling me from the memory. “Why are you still up?” Breathing in that familiar, foreign scent, I gently pushed him away. As he stared, confused, I placed the freshly printed divorce agreement on the coffee table. “Let’s get a divorce.” Liam scoffed and tried to pull me into a hug again. I shoved him off. I just sat there, watching him with an unnerving calm as his composure began to crumble. He shot to his feet, pacing back and forth with his hands on his hips. “I told you, I was in a meeting. I was late, okay? But I came home, didn’t I? I didn’t stay out all night!” 2. The midnight curfew was a rule established after one of his many betrayals. He’d promised to abide by it, and for a few weeks, he actually had, turning down after-work drinks and dinners. But he couldn’t turn down an invitation from her. I had only met Zoe once. When Liam returned for good from London, he didn’t come to see me first. She showed up at my door, asking for a pair of his underwear to bring to him. It was a blatant provocation. I shoved her out and slammed the door. But her woody, cloying perfume lingered in the apartment we had decorated together over video calls. From then on, whenever I smelled that scent on him, I knew he’d been with her. And every single time, Liam had a ready-made excuse. He’d met with her to discuss a joint business venture. He’d run into her by chance outside the office and they’d just grabbed a quick lunch. It was a class reunion; everyone was there. And each time, he would look me in the eye, his gaze achingly sincere, and swear, “Nothing happened. If I betrayed you, Kaley, may I die a horrible death.” And I would believe him. I looked up at the man who had been the centerpiece of my entire youth. All the obsession, the unwillingness to let go… it had all vanished. I couldn’t find a trace of it. Liam was still rambling, and I repeated, my voice flat. “Let’s get a divorce.” He froze, standing ramrod straight in front of me. It was finally dawning on him that this wasn’t a tantrum. It wasn’t like the other times. I wasn’t throwing things. I wasn’t screaming. I wasn’t even pointing out the evidence and demanding an explanation. I was just calmly ending it. He crouched in front of me, raising his hand to make that same, tired vow. “If I did anything to betray you, may I die a horrible death.” “Then you can go die.” His eyes widened, the color draining from his face. This time, I didn’t rush to cover his mouth, whispering, “I believe you.” This time, I accepted his offer. 3. Liam looked like a robot that had just been powered down, his hand falling limply to his side. Outside, a roll of thunder broke the silence, and the sky opened up. His phone rang, a shrill intrusion. I glanced at the screen. The contact name read, “Zoe from Accounting.” I couldn’t help but laugh. A plausible, professional-sounding alias. But I already knew. After all, what kind of colleague texts you at midnight saying, I miss you so much. There’s a thunderstorm and I’m scared. Can you come be with me? Liam declined the call. A second later, it rang again. I watched him struggle. “Go on, answer it. She’s afraid of thunder.” A tremor went through him. He grabbed my hand, his face a mask of panic. “Kaley, let me explain. She and I are just…” “It doesn’t matter,” I said, cutting him off. “We’re getting divorced. You can tell her the good news. You won’t have to sneak around anymore. You won’t have to rack your brain for those ridiculous, logic-defying excuses.” I still didn’t understand it. How could he claim to love me and then run to her bed without a second thought? And he was so good at protecting her. After that one time she came to my door, I never saw her again, no matter how hard I tried. Once, I’d followed his phone’s GPS, running through the neighborhood in my pajamas and slippers. I was going to catch him in the act, leave him with no excuses left. I beat on the door of the apartment, but there was no answer, just a heavy, mocking silence from the other side. They were in there, together. That perfume, its phantom scent, was a constant reminder that she had never really left. It was only later I realized he had installed a GPS tracker on my phone, too. He was always one step ahead. From his studies in London to his return home, through our entire marriage, Zoe had been a ghost haunting our lives. Time and time again, I would look at the face of the seventeen-year-old boy in the photo and forgive the twenty-seven-year-old man in my bed. Finally, at twenty-eight, I threw the photo in the trash. 4. I was so tired. I didn’t have the energy to believe another one of his clumsy lies. But then he did something new. He dropped to his knees and started to cry. “I was alone in London,” he sobbed. “I didn’t know anyone. I lost my wallet, all my IDs, everything. I was just wandering the streets, completely lost, and she found me. She helped me get everything replaced. She was with me through that whole dark time.” His eyes, glistening with tears, looked up at me. During those years he was away, I’d turned down every advance, every offer of a date. I wrote him letters every week, sent him boxes of homemade cookies because I was afraid he’d be lonely. I stayed up through the night, waiting for a time we could talk, telling him over and over again, I love you. I’m waiting for you. It was clear now that none of that mattered as much as Zoe’s physical presence. He hugged my legs, his face wet with tears. “Kaley, this is the last time. I’ll never see her again, I promise!” “I swear, if I ever see her again, I’ll—” “She’ll die a horrible death,” I finished for him. His mouth hung open, his face a picture of conflict. I wanted to see just how deep his feelings for her ran. I leaned back against the sofa, looking down at him. “Say it. If you two ever meet again, she’ll die a horrible death.” He closed his mouth. He lowered the hand he’d raised to swear the oath. Silence filled the room again. I watched the color drain from his face and let out a bitter laugh. His phone rang again. This time, he answered, his voice a furious roar. “Don’t ever call me again! We’re over!” He slammed the phone down and looked at me, his eyes full of desperate hope. I watched his chest heave from the force of his shouting and just felt… empty. “It’s too late, Liam.” 5. “From the moment you were in London, the two of you never stopped. I asked you, begged you, to cut ties with her, but you never did.” “You just found more secretive ways to see her. You faked a business proposal to show me, claiming you had to work with her. You helped her set up her company in the building next to yours so you could have ‘chance encounters’ and lunch every day. You organized a ‘class reunion’ where, surprise, the two of you were the only ones who showed up.” As I laid it all out, he just shook his head, muttering that it wasn’t like that. Outside, the darkness began to soften into a bruised, pre-dawn blue. A knock on the door. A woman stood there, drenched from the rain. Liam rushed to wrap her in a towel, his eyes filled with concern. Even through the rain, I could smell that familiar, woody scent. Zoe’s eyes were red as she stared at Liam. “What do you mean, ‘we’re over’?” “Didn’t you tell me you had no feelings for her? That the only reason you didn’t divorce her was because she’d take half your money?” “Why? Why are you ending things with me now?” After that outburst, Liam looked at me, his face ashen. So that was it. He was worried I’d take his money. Zoe’s eyes fell on the divorce papers on the table. She snatched them up. On the last page, my signature sat, quiet and final. Liam tried to grab the papers back, but she dodged him. “Why haven’t you signed it?” she shrieked. “She’s not asking for a single penny!” Her eyes were bloodshot, her voice cracking with desperation. I think Liam finally snapped. He ripped the agreement to shreds, shoved her out the door, and slammed it shut. From outside, we could hear her screaming curses and questions. I remained on the sofa. Liam fell to his knees again, sobbing apologies. 6. After a while, the noise outside stopped, replaced by a woman’s shocked cry. “Oh my goodness! This poor girl’s fainted!” Liam flinched, then scrambled to his feet and threw the door open. He cradled Zoe in his arms, shaking her, his voice choked as he called her name. The girl in his arms was pale and unresponsive. He glanced at me once, then scooped her up. “Kaley, I’m taking her to the hospital. I’ll be right back. Wait for me. I’ll come back and explain everything.” I watched him leave without a backward glance and wondered if he would ever really come back. I just sat there on the sofa. Waiting. At noon, I got a friend request from Zoe. She sent me a picture, a trophy of her victory. In it, Liam was asleep, his head resting on her hospital bed. Next to him was an unfolded pregnancy report. I zoomed in on the date. Two months. Two months ago, Liam had told me he was going on a week-long business trip. He’d checked in with me every thirty minutes. But even that constant surveillance hadn’t stopped him from sneaking off to be with her. He’s going to be a father. He’s mine, Kaley. Zoe’s texts popped up. I didn’t reply. I exited the chat, opened my laptop, and started revising the divorce agreement. If he was going to have a baby with her, he was damn well going to pay for it. Then I called the movers. By the time Liam came back, the living room was full of boxes. He stepped over them and found me in the master bedroom, directing the movers. “Kaley, what are you doing?” I turned to him, my voice cold. “Packing.” “Kaley, Zoe… she has some health issues. I need to stay at the hospital with her for a few days. Can you just wait for me? Please?” he begged. We looked at each other, and a sudden, morbid curiosity took hold of me. I wanted to know how he would handle the baby. A slow smile spread across my face. “Okay.” He looked immensely grateful, pulling me into a tight hug before rushing to pack a bag and hurry back to the hospital.

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1 Just after giving birth, I was added to an online group for secondhand baby items. Inside, a single used baby bottle was up for auction. The starting bid was a staggering $9,900. “What’s the model? Weight?” I was baffled. Why would a used bottle sell for a fortune? The next second, a photo of my daughter, Lily, appeared in the chat. The group admin replied: “Eight pounds. Limited edition. One of a kind.” “Limited edition model, weighs eight pounds. For those in the know.” I stared at the screen, my brow furrowed in confusion. The picture was just a plain glass baby bottle, but the description was bizarre. Stranger still, someone immediately asked a follow-up question. “What type?” The admin’s reply was swift: “Type B. Purity guaranteed.” Before I could process it, the admin posted another photo. It was a baby’s calf, and on the fair skin was a pale red, heart-shaped birthmark. My breath caught in my throat. The location, the shape, even the faint, jagged edges of that birthmark… It was identical to my daughter’s. I stared at the screen, my throat tightening. Suddenly, the chat exploded with messages: “$20,000.” “$25,000. Don’t get in my way!” “$30,000. Cash. Can make the exchange tonight.” My fingers were ice-cold, my grip on the phone failing. Were they auctioning my daughter? “$50,000.” An ID named “Blackhawk” suddenly placed a bid. The chat went silent for a second. Then the admin sent a voice message. I clicked play. A man’s raspy voice chuckled. “Alright. Same rules as always. 11 PM tonight, Pier 3 warehouse. Inspect the goods, pay up. No funny business.” My head snapped up to the clock on the wall—8:30 PM. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I scrambled to my feet and ran for the bedroom. The moment I pushed the door open, my heart stopped. My husband, Ethan, was holding Lily, the keys to the stroller dangling from his hand. He looked like he was about to leave. “What are you doing?!” My voice trembled, sharper than I intended. He flinched, then frowned at me. “I was just taking her for a walk downstairs. You said she was a little fussy today and could use some fresh air.” My eyes were glued to my daughter. She was wearing her light blue bear onesie, babbling as she played with her father’s collar. The heart-shaped birthmark on her leg was faintly visible in the light. “Don’t bother!” I practically lunged at him, snatching our daughter from his arms. Ethan was startled, reaching out to steady me. “What’s wrong with you? Did something happen?” I clutched Lily tightly, my fingers digging into her swaddle. “I’ll take her for a walk. You get some rest.” He looked at me, suspicion in his eyes. “You’re pale as a ghost. And your hands are shaking.” “Probably just low blood sugar.” I forced a weak smile, backing away. “I’ll grab a snack while I’m out. You just wait here for me.” Before he could say another word, I turned and rushed out, forgetting to even grab my jacket. As the elevator doors closed, I looked down at Lily. She was staring up at me with wide, round eyes, her tiny hand gripping my collar. Tears streamed down my face. “Mommy won’t let anyone take you,” I whispered, my voice choked with sobs as I kissed her forehead. The elevator reached the ground floor. As the doors opened, a blast of cold air hit me. At the same moment, my phone chimed. I pulled it out, the screen’s cold light illuminating my ashen face. Admin: “Change of plans. Exchange moved to 11 PM tomorrow. Same location.” I stared at the message, my mind buzzing. The moment I took Lily out of the apartment, they changed the time. Thinking of Ethan’s actions, my fingers tightened. If I was only fifty percent suspicious before, I was now one hundred percent certain. The admin was Ethan. It had to be him. My daughter whimpered in my arms, uncomfortable with my tight grip. I immediately loosened my hold, leaning down to kiss her again. “It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t be afraid. Mommy’s here.” Just then, Ethan called, asking where I’d gone with the baby. He pointed out I’d forgotten my wallet. I stammered an excuse, then turned around and saw Ethan walking towards me, my purse in his hand. “Honey, you’re so forgetful. How can I not worry about you?” he said with a sigh. “Come on, I’ll go with you.” My heart hammered against my ribs, but I had no choice but to nod and walk beside him. I couldn’t afford to tip him off. That night, back home, Lily breathed peacefully in her bassinet beside our bed. But I lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling, my ears straining to catch every sound, waiting for the right moment to escape. Around dawn, my husband suddenly sat up. I squeezed my eyes shut, evening out my breathing, pretending to be fast asleep. His footsteps were light, but I felt him pause beside the bassinet. My heart was about to burst from my chest. My fingers twisted the corner of the duvet into a knot. Then, I heard the rustle of fabric. “What are you doing?!” I shot up, my voice so shrill it startled even me. Ethan froze. After a long moment, he pulled his hand back, his tone weary. “I was just checking if she was hungry. I thought I heard her whimper.” In the darkness, I couldn’t see his face, but my fear didn’t subside. “I’ll do it.” I jumped out of bed, scooping Lily up before he could, my movements almost rough. Startled from her sleep, Lily let out a few confused cries. I quickly cradled her, rocking her gently. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. Mommy’s here.” Ethan didn’t move. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “What is wrong with you today? You’re so on edge.” “Nothing. Just tired,” I said, my back to him, trying to sound calm. He sighed. “Well, feed her and try to get some sleep.” As his soft snores filled the room, I sank onto the bed, cold sweat soaking through my pajamas. At 4 AM, Lily finally fell into a deep sleep in my arms. I gently placed her back in her bassinet, but I didn’t dare close my eyes, my fingers wrapped tightly around my phone. Ping. The screen lit up. Another group notification. Admin: “Apologies, exchange time is TBD.” It was followed by a series of photos labeled “Bonus Perks.” My hand trembled as I opened them. They were pictures of my daughter sleeping peacefully in her bed. There was even one of her crying during her vaccination appointment last week. Some of these photos, I had never even seen before. My gaze snapped to Ethan, sleeping beside me. My mind raced, replaying every strange thing about him lately. He had been working late constantly. The other night, I woke up and found him on the balcony on the phone. He hung up the second he saw me. “Just work stuff. Go back to sleep,” he’d said. How could I possibly sleep? As soon as the sky began to lighten, while Ethan was still sound asleep, I quietly bundled Lily up and slipped out of the apartment. I flagged down a taxi and went straight to my mother’s house. The entire way, I kept looking over my shoulder, terrified a car was following us. Lily just played with my hair, oblivious. “What are you doing here so early?” my mom asked, surprised to see me at her door in her pajamas. I didn’t have time to explain. I pushed Lily into her arms. “Mom, please watch her for a day. No, two days!” “And don’t tell anyone she’s here. Not even Ethan!” I had to save my daughter, but I couldn’t ignore the other children. I couldn’t let Ethan get away with this. My mom was stunned. “What’s happened?” “I’ll explain later.” I kissed Lily’s forehead, my voice cracking. “Don’t let her out of your sight for a second!” As I left, I took one last look at my daughter. She was giggling, tugging at her grandma’s collar. The sight made my nose sting. When I got home, Ethan had already left for work. I locked the door and immediately opened that godforsaken group chat. A new message made my blood run cold. Admin: “Pick-up location changed. Sunnyvale Gardens, Building 3, underground garage.” That was my mother’s address. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold the phone. I dialed my mom’s number. “Hello?” Her voice was cheerful. “Mom, how’s Lily?” I asked, my voice tight. “She’s wonderful. Just had her milk and now she’s playing with her rattle.” “Have any strangers knocked on the door? Has anyone asked about a baby?” “No, dear. Why are you acting so strange?” I let out a breath of relief, but my heart was still pounding. “Mom, don’t leave the apartment for the next few days. I’ll have groceries delivered.” “Make sure no one is outside before you open the door.” Though confused, she agreed. I started secretly digging for more information in the group, hoping to gather enough evidence to go to the police. But the next morning, Ethan was gone before I woke up. I called his phone, my hands trembling. A cold, automated voice answered: “The number you have dialed is not available.” I was about to call again when my mother called me, her voice frantic. “Honey! You texted me to come downstairs to pick up some baby supplies, but I waited and you never showed up.” “When I realized something was wrong and rushed back, the baby was gone! Did Ethan take her?!” My world fell apart. “What?! I didn’t send you any message!” I checked my phone. No record of any sent texts. There was only one possibility. Ethan had realized I was onto him. He had sent the text, and then deleted it from my phone. “Mom, how long were you gone?!” “Barely ten minutes! He’s her father, he wouldn’t hurt her, would he?” My panicked tone was scaring her. I didn’t have time to explain. I hung up and bolted out the door. I jumped into a taxi. “Sunnyvale Gardens! And step on it!” As the car sped through the streets, I stared at my phone. A new message popped up in the group chat. Blackhawk: “Package received. Good condition.” Admin: “Pleasure doing business with you.” I clutched the phone, tears streaming down my face. There was nothing left but despair.

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I woke up in a world of interstellar beastmen and immediately adopted two un-shifted cubs I found in the wilderness. After a month of careful nurturing, a rancher came looking for slave labor and set his sights on the beautiful little fox. Just as I was about to hand him over, a series of glowing text boxes materialized in front of my eyes. [DON’T DO IT! DON’T DO IT! THAT’S THE YOUNG MASTER OF THE HOLT FAMILY!] [Side character, keep him! When the Holts come looking for him, you’ll be set for life!] I considered this for a moment, then offered the rancher the other cub—a scruffy, injured puppy. The text boxes went wild. [YES! IT’S THE DEMON KING! THE SIDE CHARACTER IS DOOMED!] [You are looking at the apex predator of the entire Valerius Galaxy, the undefeated champion of 37 consecutive mech league tournaments!] [Enjoy your three square meals a day in prison, side character. At least your future is stable!] Me: …? 1 I froze, my hand hovering in mid-air. The rancher grunted, impatient. “Well, miss? Are you selling or not?” I looked down at Lucky, the little pup in my arms. He was tense, his back arched, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. I’d found Lucky and an elegant little fox, whom I’d named Foxy, on the same day. In this world, un-shifted cubs were still in their infancy. Lucky was a terror. A month in, and he still wouldn’t let me near him. The toys I’d scrimped and saved to buy him were torn to shreds. The food I offered was unceremoniously kicked across the room. Foxy, on the other hand, was a dream. He was soft and sweet, and he’d curl up with me every night, whining affectionately. After a long day of back-breaking labor, coming home to that beautiful little creature was the only thing that made it all bearable. The rancher had offered me ten Alliance Credits a day to work on his farm. As a poor, displaced human, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse. As if reading my mind, the text boxes flared to life again. [You’re the ditzy, sweet side character, not the villainess! Don’t do something stupid!] [The real villainess hasn’t even shown up yet! Don’t steal her lines!] [This rancher is a cruel bastard! The hero will be beaten, and he’ll blame you for it. He’ll have you tortured!] My hand trembled. I quickly pulled Lucky behind me and offered the rancher a strained, apologetic smile. “Sorry, he’s not for sale anymore.” I didn’t know if the text was real, but I only had one life to lose. After the rancher stormed off in a huff, I looked at the two cubs. Foxy’s fur was sleek and glossy; he practically radiated privilege. It was easy to believe he was some rich kid. But Lucky… He was still filthy from refusing every attempt I made to bathe him, his fur matted with dried blood and dirt. His grey eyes were so cloudy they looked like they had cataracts. The galaxy’s top warrior? This had to be a joke. Some kind of cosmic prank. “Alright, time for dinner.” The fridge was nearly empty. I scraped together a “salad” of nutrient paste and canned meat. Foxy took one look at it, let out a pathetic whimper, and buried his face in my lap. I knew he found it disgusting. “Sorry, little guy,” I said with a wry smile. “We’ll have something better tomorrow, I promise.” This planet was ruled by beastmen. Mechs and starships crisscrossed the sky. I didn’t understand their technology, their culture, their anything. My only option was manual labor. It seemed that even in another universe, I couldn’t escape a life of grunt work. Foxy finally relented, taking a few grudging bites before retreating to the sofa to sulk. The text boxes reappeared. [Such a little manipulator! I’m melting, and I’m not even the one he’s working on!] [Send him to my house! Immediately!] [Say goodbye to your old mommy, Foxy!] [Where’d the Demon King go?] That last one caught my attention. Right. Where was Lucky? 2 I found him in a dark corner of my bedroom, licking a wound on his paw. I approached slowly, holding out his bowl of food. He looked up, saw it was me, and immediately turned his back. The text boxes were practically screaming at me. [THE HERO IS ANGRY! COMFORT HIM, YOU FOOL!] [He’s mad you were going to sell him!] [I’ve never seen the hero look like that! The side character is TOAST!] I swallowed hard and pushed the bowl closer. “Eat up…” He glanced at it, unimpressed. “There’s nothing else in the fridge,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling pathetic. “I just had a tube of nutrient paste. You and Foxy are still growing, so I saved the canned stuff for you.” The words tumbled out, a wave of self-pity washing over me. “I worked all day yesterday, and my boss refused to pay me. Said the design sketches I did weren’t what he wanted.” Humans were a rare species here, and it was a miracle I wasn’t locked away in some preserve. A long-dead Empress had passed a human protection act, allowing us some measure of freedom. But we were far from equal. Lucky was silent for a moment, then he lowered his head and started to eat. Seeing him so focused, I brought over Foxy’s uneaten portion. “There’s more here if you’re still hungry,” I said. “Sorry for… earlier. I know I’ve been giving Foxy the better treatment, but I’ve just been so broke…” He froze, looking up at me. It was true. I had always favored the sweet, affectionate fox over the grumpy, standoffish pup. He let out a soft snort and turned away again. Such a moody little dog. That night, I tossed and turned. Something had been bothering me, a detail I’d overlooked. The text boxes called me the “side character,” and they called Lucky the “hero.” Didn’t that mean… I should be trying to get on his good side? The text boxes obligingly provided a highlight reel of my past month’s interactions with Lucky. [The side character has seen the light, but it’s too late.] [She only ever gave the hero half a bowl of food.] [The hero’s bed is a pile of old rags.] [She makes the hero take out the trash for her.] [She wipes her greasy hands on the hero’s fur after eating snacks.] Me: “…” Yeah, I was probably screwed. 3 With that grim thought, I tiptoed out to the living room. Foxy was fast asleep. Lucky was not. He stood by the window, staring out into the night. I’d found him in a junkyard, buried under a pile of scrap metal. He’d been near death, and I had the distinct impression he’d been left there to die. He’d been wary at first, but when he realized I meant him no harm, he’d finally passed out in my arms. I’d named him Lucky, but he remained hostile, refusing to eat the food I made, refusing to let me near him. I’d asked around if any of the canine families were missing a son, but no one claimed him. This was a remote, border planet. No one important ever came here. When he saw me, he turned away, trotted over to Foxy’s plush bed, nudged the sleeping fox out of the way, and curled up on the soft blanket himself. The two of them had never gotten along. I’d rescued Foxy from the black market. On a trip to buy medicine for Lucky’s wounds, I’d seen him in a cage, a merchant loudly praising the quality of his fur. He’d been drugged, completely limp. I’d picked the lock when the merchant wasn’t looking, and the little fox had followed me home. Now, as the freshly-evicted Foxy woke up and whimpered, crawling into my lap for comfort, I cooed, “There, there, it’s okay. You can sleep with me tonight.” Lucky was the hero, after all. Foxy couldn’t compete with that. What was a lost bed in the grand scheme of things? We were just the supporting cast. At my words, Lucky, who had been settling down to sleep, shot up. Foxy, nestled in my arms, gave him a smug look and yawned. Lucky’s eyes narrowed. With a growl, he launched himself at Foxy. Me: “?” Why were they fighting? The text boxes, however, were ecstatic. [YES! THE RIVALRY I LIVE FOR!] [I love a good love triangle with a green-tea pretty boy and a grumpy, possessive hero!] [If it weren’t for the actual heroine, I’d ship this so hard!] I had no idea what they were talking about, but I was terrified. Didn’t they realize my life was on the line? If they hurt each other, I’d have to pay the vet bills. If they got into a real fight, I could end up in jail. “Stop it! Both of you!” I scooped them up, one in each arm, and marched back to the bedroom. “You’re both sleeping with me!”

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Barry Roosevelt and I both lived in a world of silence. His, the result of a car accident that shattered his world and drove him to the edge of suicide. We met on the hospital rooftop. We fell in love there. And together, we weathered five years of a world filled with malice. He signed to me once, his hands firm and deliberate: Barry Roosevelt will always be true to Rowan. Then came the second accident. By some miracle, the crash restored what the first one had taken. He could hear, he could speak. He became a rising star in the city’s elite circle. And still, he told me his promise was forever. But at his birthday party, thinking I was still locked in my silent world, he finally spoke his heart to a friend. “She saw me at my absolute worst. And she’s deaf… frankly, it’s embarrassing to take her out.” “I’d rather she just disappeared. That way, I could remember her fondly forever.” But he didn’t know the truth— To give him the will to live, I had been pretending to be deaf for five long years. 1 The night of his birthday party, Barry introduced me to all his old friends. Knowing I couldn’t hear, he took the time to teach them a few basic signs, just so they could look me in the eye and gesture, “Good to meet you.” I felt a blush creep up my neck, clutching my glass of juice and sitting obediently by his side. But my mind was racing, trying to find the perfect moment to finally tell him my secret. It would be my thirtieth birthday gift to him. Barry was in his element, throwing back drink after drink, a grin plastered on his face that he couldn’t have wiped off if he tried. He moved through the crowd, laughing with friends, getting dragged into a rowdy karaoke song. The party was alive, and I was genuinely happy for him. He was born to be a golden boy, a man without flaws. Now that he was whole again, a coveted new player in the city’s high society, the old looks of pity and scorn had transformed into awe and envy. My Barry was finally reborn. I watched him, timing the rhythm of the party. When he finally collapsed onto the sofa next to me, flushed and breathless from the celebration, I gently tugged on his sleeve. He turned, his smile soft and indulgent, and began to sign. “Rowan, are you tired?” I shook my head, signing back, “I have something to tell you. It’s important!” Barry nodded, about to take my hand and lead me out of the private room, but one of his friends threw an arm over his shoulder. “Hey, where do you think you’re going? The night’s still young!” The guy wasn’t letting go. Barry pointed to me, and then, remembering I supposedly couldn’t hear, he spoke and signed simultaneously. “Rowan has something to tell me. I’m just stepping out with her for a minute.” I glanced from him to the rest of the room. Everyone was still riding the high of the party. I thought for a moment, then shook my head at Barry. “It can wait. You’re all finally together. You should enjoy it.” Seeing my signs, a slow smile spread across Barry’s face. He reached out and ruffled my hair, murmuring aloud, “My Rowan is the sweetest.” He didn’t sign it. But it was a simple enough phrase that I could easily read his lips. His effortless compliments, his public displays of affection—they always made me blush, forcing me to duck my head to hide the heat in my cheeks. And whenever I did, his smile only grew wider. “Rowan is cutest when she’s shy,” he’d tease. He loved to do that. He knew his words turned my face crimson, yet he delighted in it, insisting it was when I was most adorable. His friend next to him seemed intrigued. “Man, are you really going all in on this pure love thing? Are you seriously planning to marry her?” Barry leaned back slightly at the question, turning his head so I could only see his profile. I couldn’t make out the shape of his lips anymore. For someone who can’t hear, if you can’t see their lips, the world goes completely silent. His movement was deliberate. He didn’t want me to understand this conversation. What was he about to say? More sweet nothings that would make me blush? My mind raced with possibilities. Barry paused, considering the question, then answered his friend in earnest. “Rowan’s a good person. Over the past five years, I fell apart more times than I can count, and she was always there. I’m grateful to her. I love her.” “But she was born deaf and mute. The kind that can’t be fixed.” “She also witnessed the absolute lowest point of my life. Every time I see her, every time I have to use sign language, it drags me right back to that hell. To be honest, it’s suffocating.” “But that’s not even the worst part. The thing is, I’m back on my feet now. The Roosevelt family is making a name for itself again. If word gets out that I married a deaf woman… can you imagine the whispers? The old sharks in the business world would laugh me out of the room.” “If I’m being honest, I wish she had just vanished after I recovered. If she had, I think I could have cherished her memory forever. The kind you never forget.” His friend looked stunned, as if he never expected those words to come out of Barry’s mouth. “So… you don’t want to marry her?” Barry shook his head. “I’ll marry her. She gave me five years of her life, after all.” As he said it, he reached over and squeezed my hand, his eyes still brimming with that familiar, all-consuming love. A love so convincing, it was impossible to tell if any of it was real. My face remained a calm mask, but my heart was hammering against my ribs. A sharp, indescribable pain bloomed in my chest. Because I had heard every single word. 2 I’ve been keeping a secret from Barry for five years. I was never deaf or mute. I first met him the day my parents went hiking and never came back. A freak accident. I spent a day and a night outside the operating room, then another half a month camped outside the ICU. But they never woke up. In the span of 24 hours, the only two people on earth who shared my blood were gone. The blow was catastrophic. I cried until I passed out, again and again. After one of those fainting spells, I woke up and found I couldn’t speak. The doctor told me it was a conversion disorder. My body, trying to protect itself from overwhelming trauma, had shut down my ability to speak. He said it was temporary. It would probably come back in a few months. Crushed by the dual tragedies, I was lost in a fog of grief. Needing to breathe, I made my way to the hospital rooftop. And that’s where I found Barry, standing on the ledge, ready to jump. I lunged, grabbing him and pulling him back from the brink. We both tumbled to the rough concrete. My arm scraped against the ground, a raw, bloody patch that stung so badly it made me gasp. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t scream at him, so I just pointed at him, then at myself. As he stared back, bewildered, I scrambled to my feet and drew a huge, angry ‘X’ in the air, gesturing toward the edge of the roof. He understood. Don’t do it. A bitter smile twisted his lips, his eyes utterly devoid of light. But he had lost his nerve. He slumped to the ground, the courage for a second attempt gone. He picked up a small piece of gravel and began to scratch words onto the rooftop floor. [You shouldn’t have saved me. It took everything I had to build up the courage to jump, and now it’s all gone.] I read his words, then smacked him lightly on the back of the head and snatched the stone from his hand. [The world is full of pain. You can’t just run from it. Unless you truly have nothing and no one left to live for, then go ahead, jump again.] I knew he couldn’t. I could see it in his eyes. He was trapped in his own private hell, flirting with the idea of escape through death, but a part of him was screaming for someone to pull him out of the abyss. I wanted to be that person. Saving a life felt like something I could do for my parents, a small offering in their memory. And so, we met. I learned that Barry had been a golden boy, a prince in his own world, until a car accident had stolen his hearing and his voice. The doctors said the chances of recovery were slim. The fall from grace was more than he could bear. And because I couldn’t speak, he saw me as one of his own. He pushed everyone else away, but he let me in, finding solace in a shared misery. To keep him alive, I told him a kind lie. I wrote it down for him: “I was born this way. I’ve never heard a sound or spoken a word. You have it better than me. So you have to live. You have to wait for your miracle.” A white lie can make a flower bloom in the desert. Back then, Barry desperately needed someone to share his pain, someone to walk beside him in the darkness. And there I was. We met on that rooftop. I saved him. We became friends. Day by day, our friendship deepened into something more. And on that same rooftop, he confessed his feelings for me. He signed, his hands trembling slightly, “I thought the world was a terrible place, but then I met you. Rowan, even if I stay like this forever, as long as I have you by my side, life won’t be so hard. Because I have you.” He also promised: Barry Roosevelt will always be true to Rowan. The sunset that day was breathtaking, its warm glow wrapping around him like a halo. He stood in the light, held out his hand, and promised me a lifetime. My heart surrendered. I fell completely and hopelessly in love with the boy in front of me. But our life together wasn’t easy. We were a deaf couple in a hearing world, and we endured more than our share of condescending stares and cruel jokes. The same people who had envied him before now took pleasure in mocking and tormenting him. Through five years of malice, we never let go of each other’s hand. I truly believed he was my destiny. We could face any hardship, even a lifetime of it, as long as we were together. Until the second car accident. He was no longer trapped in silence. His voice was beautiful, a rich, warm sound that made my heart flutter every time he spoke. I was ready to tell him everything, to finally share my secret. But I never imagined that the five years I spent by his side had become the heaviest burden he carried. It wasn’t disappointment I felt, or sadness. It was a profound sense of sorrow. I remembered an old saying—that many people can endure hardship together, but few can share success. It was the ugly, simple truth of human nature. And in that moment, for Barry and me, it became devastatingly real. A wave of nausea washed over me. When he reached out to pull me into an embrace, I shoved him away, hard. Without a second glance, I turned and fled from the room. If his love wasn’t pure, then I didn’t want it at all. 3 My silent departure was a public humiliation for him, and Barry was furious. He sent me a text: [Those were my best friends at the party tonight. You just running off like that, without a word… it made me look like an idiot. Forget it. Just take some time to cool off. I won’t be coming home for a few days.] I stared at the words, a bitter irony twisting in my gut. The old Barry, if he’d seen me leave like that, would have been consumed with worry. He would have been terrified that something was wrong, that I was in trouble. He would have stayed by my side until he saw me smile again. But now, his first instinct wasn’t concern. It was shame. My chest felt tight, constricted, like a massive stone was crushing my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I was drowning in my own sorrow. But the phone in my hand buzzed again, a notification. Barry and I both used social media to post snippets of our lives, a silent way of sharing our days, even if no one was watching. He had just posted an update. I couldn’t stop myself. Like a form of self-torture, I tapped the notification. The photos showed him and a group of friends at the beach. Everyone was beaming, their joy uninhibited. In one shot, Barry had his arm slung around the neck of a girl I didn’t recognize, a beer bottle in his other hand. He looked completely free, without a single worry in the world. Certainly no worry for me. He was happy. In that moment, our worlds were polar opposites. 4 Barry was desperate for release. For five long years, he had endured countless whispers and sneers. Now that he was whole again, he wanted to shout it from the rooftops, to make sure the entire world knew he was no longer broken. For the next two weeks, he was a whirlwind of social events. His feed was a constant stream of updates. Beach parties, exclusive clubs, lavish galas and charity balls—he was everywhere. I found myself in a masochistic routine: open the app, zoom in on the pictures, study every detail, then close it. I was trying to wear down the love still clinging to my heart, to collect enough disappointment to finally walk away for good. After five years together, I knew his circle of friends inside and out. Even the ones I’d never met felt familiar from the stories we’d shared. I could have picked them out of a crowd. So when I saw the same unfamiliar girl in picture after picture, always by his side, a girl he had never once mentioned to me, I knew. We were drifting apart, faster and further than I had realized. As I sat numbly on the sofa, a video call from my friend Chloe popped up on my screen. “Rowan! There’s this gala the day after tomorrow, and my dad is forcing me to go. I don’t want to find a date. Please, please come with me?” Chloe was my rock. She came from a wealthy family but had none of the arrogance. Her laugh was loud and infectious, a burst of sunshine that could light up any room. We had also met at the hospital. During that time when I couldn’t speak, even simple things were a struggle. Trying to get a nurse’s attention in a busy ward was impossible. I would just stand there, helpless and frustrated. Chloe had been passing by and saw my distress. She helped me, and we became fast, true friends. She even learned sign language for me. Watching her form the clumsy, hesitant signs on the screen now brought a warmth to my chest. I really didn’t want to go out, but the pleading in her eyes was too much to resist. I finally nodded. I never expected to see Barry at the gala. He was dressed in a sharp tuxedo, a stunningly beautiful woman in a designer gown holding his arm. The moment she saw me, her eyes narrowed with an undisguised hostility. It was her. The girl from all the photos. Barry’s face tightened. “Rowan, what are you doing here?” He had started to raise his hands to sign, but in the crowded, opulent ballroom, he seemed to think better of it. He dropped his hands, a forced, unnatural smile on his face as he spoke the words aloud. “Well, well, Mr. Roosevelt,” a voice boomed from nearby. It was the CEO of a rival company, a man who loved to get under Barry’s skin. “As I recall, your fiancée is… a mute, isn’t she? Oh, that’s right, deaf and mute, just like you were. If you don’t sign to her, how on earth will she know what you’re saying?” We had been through this before. But back then, while the taunts stung, we ignored them, treating them as the pathetic ramblings of a bitter man. Not this time. A dark flush of shame crept up Barry’s neck. He grabbed my arm, yanking me into a secluded corner, his hands flying in a series of sharp, angry signs. He signed, “You threw a tantrum the other week, and I gave you space to cool off. I thought you would be good, like you always are. I can’t believe you’d show up here without telling me. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me?” Embarrassing for him? I struggled to process the word. I was just… here. I hadn’t come with him. I was dressed appropriately. I hadn’t caused a scene. And yet, my mere presence was enough to make him feel ashamed. The shock must have been written all over my face. Barry let out a long sigh, a flicker of regret in his eyes. He looked like he was about to say more, to soften the blow, but before he could raise his hands again, the woman in the red dress glided over. She beamed, waving a perfectly manicured hand at me. “Hello, Rowan! I’m Isabelle. I’m a friend of Barry’s. I’ve heard so much about you.” She then clapped a hand over her mouth in mock horror, looking at Barry with wide, concerned eyes. “Oh, I don’t know any sign language. Rowan probably didn’t understand a word of that, did she? It’s all my fault. I should have asked you to teach me a few things beforehand. It’s our first time meeting, I wanted to make a good impression.” Barry gave her a small, reassuring smile. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter if she understood or not. You don’t need to worry about it.” They exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Then Isabelle gestured toward the dance floor. “The music is starting. You promised me the first dance, you know. Don’t you dare break your promise.” Her tone was playful, but her eyes held a warning. Barry’s gaze flickered back to me, a flicker of indecision crossing his face. Isabelle’s smile tightened. “When I came over just now,” she added casually, “I overheard quite a few people gossiping about Rowan.” That did it. The hesitation vanished from Barry’s eyes. He turned to me, his decision made, and signed curtly, “I have to go dance. I know you don’t like crowded places, so just wait here and don’t wander off.” With that, he and Isabelle turned and walked toward the center of the ballroom. I stood frozen, watching his back recede into the crowd. The initial anger and pain had faded, replaced by a cold, hollow numbness. I opened my mouth, wanting to scream. I wanted to tell him that I loved crowded places, that it was loneliness I couldn’t stand. I wanted to tell him that he was the one who hated crowds, because he couldn’t bear the pitying stares and whispers. He hated being laughed at, so he hated the noise. And now, maybe he was starting to hate me, too. Isabelle glanced back over her shoulder, and in the triumphant glint in her eyes, I understood everything.

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1 The new accountant was a clumsy airhead. On payday, she transferred only one cent to me, causing my mother’s medication payment to fail. My mother died. Before I could confront her, she was already sobbing. “I’m sorry! I sent your salary to that janitor you fired!” Her husband, the CFO, shielded her. “Not her fault. You should’ve had emergency funds.” Overcome with grief, I nearly fainted. At the funeral, Scarlett hired a loud lion dance troupe. I screamed at her to leave. She cried, “I just wanted it to be lively!” I had an asthma attack and reached for my inhaler. She slapped it away, yelling, “That’s illegal!” As I collapsed, I heard her whimper, “I didn’t know it was medicine…” My husband covered for her. “Alana Vance died of grief.” That night, I was cremated unnoticed. When I opened my eyes, I was back on payday. … There was only one minute left before the online sale for my mom’s medication ended. No time to think. I frantically switched the payment card linked to my account. Ding. Payment successful. My mother was safe. Tears welled in my eyes. I looked around, my heart pounding. It was real. I was back. I took a deep breath, a storm of fury and sorrow crashing over me. Scarlett and Michael, that wretched pair who had cost me my life. I would make them pay. Just then, a figure stumbled into my office. Scarlett stood before me, bowing timidly. “Ms. Vance, I’m so sorry! I’m so clumsy, I sent your salary to Mrs. Gable!” “She’s a single mom. Life must be so hard for her after you fired her. Please, can’t we just let her keep it?” she pleaded, her eyes wide and innocent as she tugged on my sleeve. I let out a sharp, humorless laugh and shoved her hand away. “Let’s get one thing straight. Mrs. Gable and I are both victims here.” “The person responsible for this mess is you. You’d better fix it, and fix it fast. Otherwise, I’m reporting this to upper management.” I had just closed a huge deal last month. My commission was at least a hundred thousand dollars. Scarlett’s face went white. She saw me pull out my phone and lunged for it. “Ms. Vance, you earn so much! Can’t you just consider it charity?” My salary was the money I worked myself to the bone for, money to save my mother’s life. The thought made my teeth ache with hatred for this woman. I pushed her away without hesitation. I didn’t use much force, but she let out a piercing scream. “Scarlett? What’s wrong?” Michael, my husband, burst into the room. “Mr. Hayes, I’m so sorry! I’m so stupid, I made Ms. Vance angry!” Scarlett sobbed into his chest. His eyes, when they turned to me, were chips of ice. “Alana! Does bullying a young girl make you feel powerful?” “Are you that desperate for money? It’s just a hundred grand. I’ll transfer it to you, alright?” A notification chimed, confirming the transfer, but my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. When my mother had been rushed to the ER, I had begged him for help with the medical bills. He’d lectured me about keeping our finances separate before marriage. Now, to clean up Scarlett’s mess, he didn’t even blink. “There’s your money. But you scared Scarlett. Apologize to her.” My head snapped up. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What did you say?” Michael’s tone grew colder. “You pushed her. You should apologize.” Scarlett tugged at his sleeve. “Michael, it’s fine. I’m just a clumsy person. I don’t hold grudges, even when I’m bullied.” But Michael took a step forward, his hand clamping onto the back of my neck, forcing my head down. The humiliation ignited a firestorm of rage, burning away all reason. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I broke free and slapped him, hard, across the face. “Michael Hayes, are you trying to get fired from your position as CFO?” Before he could answer, Scarlett shrieked, clutching at him. “She hit him! Help! Ms. Vance is assaulting someone!” I gave a cold smile. “That’s right, I hit him. Go on, call the police.” “You two treat company funds like a joke. Let’s have the police sort this out.” Scarlett’s wailing stopped abruptly. She avoided my gaze, looking guilty. Perhaps my expression was truly terrifying, because Michael’s voice softened. “Alana, you know Scarlett has always been a bit… slow. Mistakes happen.” “Let’s not make a scene in front of the other employees. We can discuss this at home.” That wasn’t the tune he was singing when he was trying to force me to apologize. I looked at Scarlett cowering behind him and forced a smile. “Really? But this company doesn’t employ idiots. Nor does it employ traitors who sell us out.” At my words, Michael’s face flushed a deep, angry red. “What are you talking about!” He looked flustered for a moment, then puffed out his chest, putting on his executive air. “Alana, if I recall, you have a meeting with Orion Group next week to discuss the next quarter’s partnership.” “You should give newcomers like Scarlett more opportunities to learn. Then maybe these mistakes wouldn’t happen.” I raised an eyebrow. “Fine by me. But just so we’re clear, whatever happens is on you.” He looked pleased that I’d agreed so readily. Scarlett practically jumped into his arms with excitement. “Thank you for trusting me, Mr. Hayes! It’s a good thing I’m not on Ms. Vance’s team, otherwise, how would I ever grow?” “Don’t mind her,” Michael soothed. “Scarlett, I can see you have great potential. Go for it.” Scarlett’s pathetic attempt at a veiled insult was utterly worthless to me. I just smirked and showed them the door. Orion Group was our biggest client. Losing them would cripple our core business. Since Michael had so much faith in Scarlett’s abilities, I was happy to let him have his way. This time, without me to clean up her mess, let’s see who had the skills to salvage the disaster she was sure to create. But I had clearly underestimated the depths of human stupidity. Scarlett had chosen a remote, rustic farmhouse for the meeting. The place was so high up in the mountains that not even a golf cart could make the final ascent. The Orion executives, all middle-aged men, nearly had heart attacks climbing the trail in the hundred-degree heat. Scarlett, meanwhile, skipped along with a portable fan clipped to her shirt. Utterly oblivious, she turned and pointed at the lead executive, chirping, “Mister, you’ve got three spare tires around your belly! You should exercise more!” “But don’t thank me, thank Ms. Vance! If she hadn’t invited me, I never would have picked such a wonderful place!” The executive’s face was a thundercloud. He didn’t say another word for the rest of the climb. At dinner, I was treated to another masterclass in incompetence. For a business meeting, Scarlett hadn’t ordered a single bottle of wine. Orange juice, coconut milk, Coke… There wasn’t even a single impressive main course. The table sat in stunned silence. Even Michael couldn’t take it anymore. He hissed at her, “Scarlett, what the hell is this? This is a business negotiation, not a tea party!” Her eyes immediately filled with tears. She looked at me, her voice thick with blame. “This was Ms. Vance’s account. She didn’t teach me what to do. How was I supposed to know?” And there it was. There was no real idiot here. Scarlett had seen my huge commission last month and wanted to sabotage me, then pin the blame on me. I just kept my head down and ate, offering no help whatsoever. A moment later, the lead executive from Orion slammed his chopsticks down. His face was livid as he met my gaze. “Ms. Vance, if it weren’t for our long-standing relationship, Orion would be taking its business elsewhere this quarter.” Before I could respond, Michael was on his feet, sweating profusely. “Mr. Sterling, please don’t be angry! This is all just a…” “A what? Ms. Vance and I have been working together for years! Your company has never been this absurd!” With that, Mr. Sterling and his team turned and stormed back down the mountain, leaving Michael standing there, frozen. Scarlett was still sniffling. “Ms. Vance, now you won’t get your deal. Are you going to be mad at me?” “Shut up!” Michael finally roared at her. Scarlett’s tears started flowing in earnest. The second we got back to the office, we were all summoned to the CEO’s office. The boss looked furious. Michael was the first to speak, twisting the narrative. “You knew Scarlett was inexperienced, yet you just sat there and watched her mess everything up? Alana, did you do this on purpose?” I spoke calmly. “I said I would not be responsible for the consequences. Mr. Hayes, you were the one who said we should give young people a chance to grow. I gave her the chance. Are you not satisfied with the results of her growth?” My words left him sputtering with rage. “You’re just twisting my words!” The CEO’s gaze flickered between me and Michael. In the end, the hammer fell on me. “Alana, you’re the head of the sales department! To just watch a client walk away like that… I’m very disappointed in you.” “Your entire quarterly bonus is revoked. I want you to take some time and reflect on this.” It was always like this. No matter what the truth was, I was always the one who had to bear the consequences. Scarlett’s stupidity was forgivable. Michael’s poor judgment was a minor misstep. But me? The better my performance, the lower my pay seemed to get. My heart sank. The last flicker of hope I had for this place was extinguished. I said nothing, just nodded. “Understood, sir.” I walked out of the office, took a deep breath, and made a phone call. “Hello, this is Alana Vance. I’m available to talk whenever you are.” I stopped paying attention to the office drama. I heard Scarlett’s “clumsy beauty” reputation was now company-wide, thanks to a string of blunders. I went about my work as usual, until I noticed last month’s expense reimbursements hadn’t been processed. The money I had prepaid at the hospital for my mom’s care was running low. I went to find Scarlett. In front of the entire office, she blinked her big, innocent eyes at me. “Ms. Vance, are you sure you gave me your receipts? Or are you just trying to use ‘reimbursement’ as an excuse to get more money?” “That’s not allowed, you know. Even for a manager, Scarlett can’t bend the rules~” My face hardened. I kicked her chair out from under her. Did she really think I’d fall for the same trick twice? She screamed as she tumbled to the floor. The fall revealed the shredder bin under her desk, overflowing with chopped-up receipts. I picked up a handful and read them aloud. “Mr. Peterson, Ms. Liu, Mr. Chen… so this is where your receipts went! No wonder no one got their money back last month!” A shocked murmur went through the office. When it came to money, no one was going to let it slide. Ms. Liu’s face darkened. “What’s the point of having an accountant who doesn’t know the first thing about accounting?!” Scarlett fell silent, just sat on the floor and cried. In the end, Michael had to pay everyone out of his own pocket to smooth things over. Next, Scarlett “accidentally” sent the company’s confidential financial statements to every single one of my suppliers. With our bottom line exposed, they all immediately demanded a price hike. The entire company was thrown into chaos. “Michael! If Scarlett screws up one more time, you can both pack your bags and get out!” The CEO’s enraged roar was audible even through the closed door. Michael emerged, looking defeated. He automatically turned to me to fix his problem. “Alana, find new suppliers. And the prices have to be lower than what we were paying before.” I looked at his entitled expression and found the situation utterly absurd. I had gotten us those prices by drinking until I had a bleeding ulcer. Scarlett’s jealousy had ruined the company’s supply chain, and I was expected to clean up the mess? I gave a cold laugh and pulled out the divorce papers. “You want me to clean up your mess? Fine. Sign this.” Michael stared at the papers, stunned. A flicker of conflict crossed his face, but then he gritted his teeth, snatched the pen, and signed his name. The scratch of the nib on the paper was unnaturally loud in the quiet office. I thought I would feel a pang of sadness. But my love for Michael had died in my last life. For once, I left work early to celebrate with friends. Scarlett, who usually bolted out the door the second the clock hit five, knocked on my office door. “What is it?” “Ms. Vance, what’s your number? We should exchange contact info, to make it easier to communicate about work.” She was smiling, but I saw a cold glint in her eyes. I pretended not to notice. “For work matters, just use the internal messaging system.” “Ms. Vance, you said it yourself!” she chirped, looking oddly excited. I just nodded and left. That night, I stumbled home, pleasantly buzzed. The wail of sirens filled the air outside my building. Before I knew what was happening, I was surrounded by police officers, telling me I needed to come with them to the office. It was only when I arrived that I found out what had happened. Late at night, Scarlett had initiated an unauthorized wire transfer of several million dollars to an unknown account. The CEO had nearly had a heart attack when he found out and had immediately called the police. When Scarlett saw me being escorted in, she pointed a shaking finger at me and screamed, “Ms. Vance! You were the one who told me that was the new supplier’s account! You told me to process it as soon as possible! You sent me an internal message!” “I may be a little stupid, but I would never dare to transfer such a huge amount of money on my own!” The lead officer’s face was grim. “Ms. Vance, the internal logs show that you authenticated the account information for Ms. Scarlett and urged her to make the payment.” My expression changed. I met the smug, triumphant looks on Michael and Scarlett’s faces and suddenly, I started to laugh. My voice was calm, clear, and steady. “The message was sent at 11 PM last night. However…” I paused, my eyes sweeping over Michael’s face. “As of yesterday afternoon, I had already officially submitted my resignation and had been removed from all internal company groups and platforms.” “So, my question is, who exactly sent that message?”

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My weddings to Seraphina always ended in disaster. The first time, my drink was spiked with rat poison. I had a seizure on the spot, becoming the laughingstock of high society. The second time, I was stabbed three times at the altar. To this day, I still have to wear a urostomy bag. The third time, an SUV plowed into the wedding venue, crushing my tibia and ending my racing career for good. … And every single one of these “accidents” was, without exception, the handiwork of Seraphina’s mentally challenged childhood friend, Mason. Whenever I showed a flicker of anger or hurt, she was always the first to scold me. “Mason was injured saving my life. He has the mind of a six-year-old. Can you please stop picking on a child?” This time, Mason simply set the chapel on fire. I threw myself over Seraphina to shield her, and my entire body was covered in horrific burns. Seraphina stayed by my side for a whole month. But as I was being discharged, I overheard her talking to a doctor friend. “Just prescribe him whatever. Don’t let him heal too quickly.” Her friend was stunned. “But he was this badly injured trying to save you.” Seraphina cut her off. “His sacrifice is nothing compared to Mason’s.” “I just can’t stand seeing him bully Mason. He caused Mason to burn his hand, so he deserves to be punished.” Her friend gasped. “And… the other times?” Seraphina answered without a second thought. “I taught Mason how to do all of it. His mind is permanently stuck at age six. I have to teach him how to fight back, how to protect himself.” My breath hitched. All this time, all my suffering… had been a gift from the woman I loved most. If that’s the case, then I’ll just leave. 1 As I turned to walk away, the woman continued, savoring her words. “Julian made Mason drink expired milk, giving him food poisoning until he was foaming at the mouth. So I taught Mason how to drug him, to humiliate him in public, too.” “He caused Mason to get a small cut that bled, so I made sure he felt that pain a thousand times over.” “He was always showing off his race cars in front of Mason, making him feel inferior. So I made sure he could never be a race car driver again.” My fists clenched, my eyes burning red. Her friend sighed. “If you don’t love him anymore, why do you keep trying to marry him?” Seraphina’s tone turned weary. “He sold his house to help me start my company, and he’s been with me for so many years. I can’t be too cruel.” “But this is the last time. Once I’ve calmed Mason down, I’ll take Julian abroad for the wedding. It’s the least I can do to give him some closure.” I don’t remember how I left. When I finally snapped out of my daze, the sky was dark. A few voice messages from Seraphina were on my phone. “Julian, you’re a grown man. Are you seriously playing the disappearing act?” “Can you stop this? I’ve been looking for you all day. Come home.” I exited the chat and saw a post from a mutual friend. It was a picture of Seraphina and Mason, clearly having spent the entire day at Disneyland. I was sitting on a bench right outside the hospital. If she had really been looking for me, how could she not have found me? A cold night wind blew past, and a deep, relentless ache throbbed in my amputated leg. I suddenly remembered the first month after the amputation. I was a wreck, completely broken. Seraphina would kiss my stump countless times, whispering tender promises. “Julian, from now on, I’ll be your crutch.” To appease my anger at Mason, she took the blame herself, carving a piece of flesh from her own leg right in front of me. I thought she loved me. How else could she cry before I did whenever I felt the searing pain of a phantom limb? She even established a dedicated research team to design my prosthetic leg. She set up a charity foundation in my name, all to help me get back on my feet. But now I know. All that sweet, tender care was laced with a thousand calculated deceptions. Just then, a notification popped up on my phone: ticket purchase successful. A small measure of calm settled over me. I looked up to see fireworks exploding in the night sky, spelling out Mason’s name in glittering sparks. The light was blindingly bright. My back, scarred and burned from the fire, began to ache with a phantom pain. I remembered then. Today was Mason’s birthday. If it weren’t for the fact that at his birthday party last year, he’d “playfully” pushed me down a flight of stairs, giving me a concussion and making me miss the most important race of my life, I wouldn’t have remembered this day so vividly. It was past midnight when I got home. Sounds of laughter and splashing came from the bathroom. The maid looked at me nervously. “Mr. Mason won’t let us touch him. The madam is helping him bathe.” I froze, struck by lightning. No wonder I would wake up in the hospital in the middle of the night to find Seraphina gone for hours. I fought down the volcanic rage threatening to erupt from my chest, forcing myself not to imagine the intimate scene unfolding behind that door. But then I heard Mason’s happy shout from inside. “I love taking a bath with my big sister!” It was followed by a muffled grunt from Seraphina, her voice strained with restraint. “Be good, Mason. This part of you is only for your sister and the maids to see. Don’t let anyone else touch you here, understand?” “And you can’t touch my… my chest, either.” Mason planted a loud, wet kiss on Seraphina’s cheek. She let out a soft laugh. The sound of running water resumed. I walked into the bedroom, and what I saw there nearly drove me insane. 2 My parents’ photos, the ones I kept hidden in the closet, were now pinned to the wall. Countless darts punctured their faces. They were the last pictures I had of them. My fingers trembled as I pulled out the darts. I clutched the mutilated photos to my chest and sobbed. Meanwhile, the two in the bathroom were still playing. I shot to my feet and stormed to the bathroom door. Just then, Seraphina emerged, helping a naked Mason out. His body was pressed tightly against hers. The moment he saw me, he clapped his hands and yelled, “The cripple’s back!” I glared at him, the air sucked from my lungs. Before I could say a word, Seraphina spoke first. “Mason has the mind of a child. I was just helping him with his bath. There’s no need to look at us like that.” She turned and gently laid Mason on the bed. With practiced ease, she dried his body and helped him into his pajamas. She attended to every detail, even applying his lotion herself. Mason looked at me with smug pride and pouted. “Sister promised she’d only ever bathe me, right?” Seraphina smiled without hesitation. “Yes, I promised.” I stood there, clutching the ruined photos, a crushing weight settling on my chest. No wonder when I fell and passed out in the hospital bathroom, she would rather call a nurse than come in and help me herself. She was keeping a promise to Mason. She cared so much about her promise to him, but she’d conveniently forgotten the one she made to me ten years ago, in that tiny, rundown apartment. She’d sworn through her tears that she would love me with her life. Standing behind them, my voice was a low murmur. “Seraphina, let’s get a divorce.” The room fell silent. After a long moment, Seraphina tucked Mason into bed. She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “There, you go to sleep now.” Then, she grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room. The force of her grip tore open the freshly scabbed wounds on my body. She shoved me against the wall in the dim hallway. “Julian, I’ve had a long day. Don’t start this now.” I met her eyes, a sarcastic smile playing on my lips. “Oh? Is that because you were looking for me all day?” Seraphina looked away, her voice a muddled attempt at placating me. “Julian, I’ve already made the wedding arrangements. We’ll go abroad this time, without Mason. There won’t be any more accidents.” “Don’t be angry, okay?” She reached for my hand but froze, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly before she quickly pulled away. I understood instantly. She had felt my scars. She was repulsed by the hideous, worm-like ridges of burned flesh on my skin. Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, a look of pity crossed her face. She started to pull me into an embrace… But a sudden cry from Mason echoed from the bedroom. Seraphina immediately spun around and rushed back in, knocking me to the floor in her haste. She didn’t even notice. I sat there on the cold floor and started to laugh, a low, hollow sound. I pulled out my phone and called my lawyer. “Draw up the divorce papers for me. And I want you to sell all of my shares in Pierce Industries to Seraphina’s biggest rival.” A bitter, ironic laugh escaped my lips. “Roxanne Hawthorne… I think she’s going to love this little gift.” Through the crack in the door, I saw Seraphina coaxing Mason to sleep, right there on the bed with him. In the dim light, I thought I saw a flash of a triumphant, mocking smile on Mason’s face. A terrifying possibility struck me. I called for the maid and asked her to pull up the security footage. I was told the cameras were broken. My brow furrowed. “Where are my clothes and luggage?” I asked. The maid looked uneasy. “Mr. Mason… burned them.” As if afraid of my reaction, she quickly added, “The madam said to let him. For fun.” The knot of rage in my chest tightened, my fingers curling into fists. I went to the guest room and didn’t fall asleep until three in the morning. I hadn’t been asleep for long when I was jolted awake by hot milk splashing across my face. Mason lunged at me, his fists raining down on my body. “You damned cripple! This is my house! Get out!” I gasped in pain, pushing myself up and slapping him hard across the face. The next second, a searing sting exploded on my own cheek. 3 Seraphina stared at her hand, stunned. When she met my cold, resolute gaze, a flicker of panic crossed her face. “Julian, I didn’t mean to—” Mason burst into loud, theatrical sobs, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Sister, the bad man hit me! It hurts! I need kisses to make it better!” Seraphina’s expression immediately hardened. She turned, cupped Mason’s face in her hands, and gently blew on his cheek. “Shh, it’s okay, Mason. Sister will kiss it and make the pain go away.” Then, she looked at me. “Apologize.” Mason lifted his chin smugly. “Did you hear that? Seraphina told you to apologize to me!” In that moment, I saw it clearly in his eyes—the undisguised hatred and mockery. That wasn’t the look of someone with the mental capacity of a six-year-old. It was the same look of jealous resentment he used to give me back when he was pathetically trailing after Seraphina and me. Seraphina had always complained to me about Mason’s obsessive advances. But after the boating accident, after he suffered a severe brain injury while “saving” her, her attitude did a complete one-eighty. No matter what Mason did, she demanded that I endure it. But my parents had also died in that accident. They gave their life jackets to Seraphina and Mason so she could get back to me, and then they were swept away by the waves, their bodies never recovered. Mason lost his memory. I lost my parents. And now, it seemed, I was about to lose the woman I loved, too. I stared defiantly into Seraphina’s eyes. “Not happening.” Mason’s wails grew louder. “Sister, he’s mean!” Seraphina’s eyes darkened. She patiently soothed him, “It’s okay, it’s okay, Mason, don’t cry.” “How do you want to punish the bad man? Sister will help you, okay?” With that, she dropped the gentle facade, her voice laced with impatience. “Julian, I’m giving you one last chance. Apologize to Mason!” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. I lifted my pant leg, revealing the cold metal of my prosthetic. I lifted my shirt, exposing the urostomy bag. I pulled down my scarf, showing the gnarled, hideous scar on my neck. My eyes were red as I asked in a dead, flat voice, “Seraphina, is this not enough?” “Punish me? For what? What exactly did I do wrong?” A look of shock flashed across Seraphina’s face. She quickly averted her gaze, unable to meet mine. But a moment later, her eyes darted back to my face, searching for something. Finally, she said stiffly, “Mason is just a child. He was only playing.” “Do you really need to hold a grudge over it?” “Besides, it’s not like I didn’t compensate you. You were always happy to accept the company shares, weren’t you?” There it was again. Every time Mason hurt me, she told me not to pick on a “child.” Then she would throw money at me. Not as compensation, but as a handout. A dismissal. If I hadn’t overheard her confession, I might have gone on believing I was the petty one. Seeing the raw pain in my eyes, Seraphina’s breathing quickened. She sighed, about to step forward to comfort me. But Mason immediately started scrambling towards the window. “If sister won’t get revenge for me, then I don’t like sister anymore!” “I’m going to find Mommy and Daddy!” Seraphina’s face went white with terror, her voice shaking. “Mason, get down from there! Now!” Her eyes were red with panic. “Get down, and I’ll promise you anything!” Mason pointed at me. “I want to ride the doggy! And I want to hear the doggy bark!” Seraphina understood immediately. “Fine,” she agreed instantly. “I’ll make him be a doggy for you to ride. Just please, get down.” She then turned to me, her expression matter-of-fact. “What are you still standing there for? Can’t you see Mason is about to kill himself?” “Get on the floor. We need to calm him down.” The word “dog” sent an uncontrollable tremor through my body. 4 Vivid images of my childhood bullies flashed through my mind. Their voices, calling me a dog, forcing me to crawl on the ground, echoed from the depths of my memory, a battering ram against my heart. The suffocating feeling was so intense I didn’t even notice my fingernails digging into my palms, drawing blood. After ten years together, Seraphina knew better than anyone where the scars on my wrists came from. Every time she touched them, her eyes would well up with tears, and she would swear that the people who had bullied me would pay. But now, she had become one of them. When I didn’t move, she called for the bodyguards. Her voice was merciless. “Julian, I gave you a chance.” “Don’t blame me for being cruel.” At her signal, a bodyguard kicked me hard in my good knee. With a sickening thud, I collapsed to the ground. I struggled violently, but Seraphina leaned in close, her voice a cold, low whisper in my ear. “Julian, just play along. We’re just appeasing Mason.” My eyes blazed as I gritted out, “Seraphina, divorce! I want a divorce!” She grabbed my chin, her grip like steel. “Julian, I’ve been too soft on you all these years. You live in my house, eat my food. It’s time you learned your place.” “Divorce me? Don’t forget, your grandmother is in that expensive nursing home. And I’m the one who pays the bills every year.” The thought of my grandmother stopped me cold. I went limp, giving up the fight. Seraphina let out a soft chuckle, her fingers tracing my swollen cheek. “That’s better, Julian. We’re a family. Mason is my savior, which makes him your savior, too.” “You should never, ever have laid a hand on him.” “And when you do something wrong, there are always consequences.” Seraphina instructed the bodyguards to lift Mason onto my back. She even took the leash from Mason’s dog and fastened it around my neck. Mason shrieked with delight, whipping my back and yanking my hair. “Crawl!” he screamed. “Crawl!” I don’t know how long it went on. From dawn till dusk, I crawled in circles, my knees leaving bloody trails on the pristine floor. Mason, seemingly tireless, rode on my back, his laughter echoing through the grand villa. And Seraphina just sat there, watching his smile with a look of utter adoration, a foolish grin on her own face. She even took out her camera, capturing every moment of his “joy.” The prosthetic leg ground against my raw flesh, my wounds tore open again, and the urostomy bag broke, filling the air with a foul stench. Black spots danced in my vision. At the brink of exhaustion, I looked at Seraphina and begged, “I’m sorry. It was my fault.” “I apologize.” But Seraphina remained seated, a regal, distant figure, her gentle smile directed only at Mason. “Mason, are you happy with this punishment?” Mason finally slid off my back. I breathed a sigh of relief. But his next words sent a chill of pure terror through me. “Sister, I forgive the ugly monster!” “As a reward, can he go play with my pet snakes?” Seraphina pinched his cheek affectionately. “Of course. Whatever makes you happy.” My eyes widened in disbelief. “Seraphina, I’ll die.” She replied with chilling nonchalance. “They’re pet snakes. Not venomous.” I scrambled, trying to crawl away. But I was pinned to the floor. Seraphina gently stroked what little was left of my hair. “Julian, after this, we’ll go abroad for our wedding.” Mason excitedly had the bodyguards drag me to the temperature-controlled room where he kept his hundreds of snakes. As they shoved me through the door, a manic, triumphant gleam shone in Mason’s eyes. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “You figured it out, didn’t you, Julian?” “Tsk. In that case, you can go die.” Instantly, the scent of my blood drew countless snakes toward me, their tongues flicking, their bodies coiling around my limbs. Through the crack in the door, I saw Seraphina’s silhouette as she led Mason away. I closed my eyes in utter despair… The next morning, Seraphina came downstairs holding two plane tickets, frowning at the empty dining table. She looked at the maid. “Didn’t the master get up to make me breakfast?” The maid trembled. “M-Ma’am… isn’t he still in the snake room?” Seraphina shot up from her chair, her voice sharp. “What? Didn’t I tell you to let him out!” A thick, cold dread began to creep into her heart. The snakes weren’t venomous, but the larger pythons… they could eat a person. Just then, her assistant hurried in, a strange look on her face. “Ma’am, Mr. Mason’s latest intelligence test results just arrived from the lab.” “And… and this is from Mr. Julian. It’s a divorce agreement…”

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I’d been in love with Ian for ten years and never found the courage to tell him. Not until I was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. So I tied him up and made him mine, over and over again. His eyes were bloodshot as he struggled against the ties. “Emma! If you’ve got any guts, you’ll let me go.” I thought if I did, he’d strangle me in a fit of rage. Instead, he took me, claiming every inch of me with a fierce hunger that burned day and night. “Emma,” he growled, his voice raw, “do I look weak to you? You actually drugged me?” 1 I’d been in love with Ian for a decade. From the time I was just a girl to the woman I am now. He lived in the mansion next door. I watched him transform from a lanky teenager into the man he is today, a man whose mature charm was so potent it left me dizzy. But I never dared to say a word. I was terrified that if I confessed and he rejected me, whatever fragile connection we had would shatter completely. Then, ten days ago, I collapsed at work and was rushed to the hospital. The doctor’s face was etched with pity. “Late-stage glioblastoma. It’s too advanced. I’m so sorry, but treatment is no longer a viable option.” I couldn’t just die. Not yet. I hadn’t traveled the world. I hadn’t slept with Ian… My mind flashed to the dark romance novels I’d been reading, filled with possessive men and their obsessive love. I was dying. What was one little transgression in the grand scheme of things? So I called Ian and invited him over for dinner. As the CEO of Sterling Corporation, he was always busy. But he promised he’d come by later. When he arrived, he looked weary from his travels, a winter chill still clinging to his black overcoat. I realized then that he’d been overseas when I called. He had flown for a whole day, walking straight from the airport and into my trap. A pang of guilt hit me. I was about to make up an excuse to send him away, but he walked right past me to the dining table and sat down. Before I could say anything, he started helping himself. I watched, my heart pounding, as he took a spoonful of the spicy Thai soup I’d liberally ‘enhanced’. He glanced up at me, one eyebrow raised in surprise. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Your cooking has improved.” Of course, it had. It was takeout from the best Thai restaurant in the city. Why takeout? Simple. I was afraid that if I cooked, it would taste so bad he wouldn’t eat enough for the drugs to work. I went to the kitchen to grab a bowl, and by the time I returned, his eyes were starting to glaze over. I bit my lip. “Are you tired? Do you want to rest for a bit?” He nodded. “A little dizzy.” “Then you should lie down.” We’d known each other for so many years that all the usual walls were down between us. He followed me to the guest room without a second thought. 2 Ian fell asleep almost instantly. I struggled to pull off his heavy coat, my eyes drawn to the hard planes of his body, hinted at beneath the thin fabric of his white shirt. My lips went dry. My pulse hammered against my ribs. But I couldn’t bring myself to unwrap him completely. Not yet. Instead, I went to my closet and pulled out the collection of silk ties I’d bought for him over the years but never had the nerve to give him. Tonight, they would finally serve their purpose. I used them to bind his hands and feet to the bedposts. When I was done, I collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, my strength gone. I looked up at his handsome face, so peaceful in sleep. I could already imagine the storm that would erupt when he woke up. The same volcanic fury he’d shown when his mother once casually suggested that we should just get married. I stared at him, not wanting to blink, trying to memorize every line and shadow. In a few days, I wouldn’t be able to see him anymore. I wanted to drink my fill. For more than twenty years, I’d been the good, selfless girl. For my final act, I was going to be selfish. Even if he hated me for it, it didn’t matter. That way, when I was gone, he wouldn’t feel a thing. His phone, still in his coat pocket, buzzed incessantly. It was Liam, his assistant. Without hesitating, and afraid the noise would wake him, I answered it. “Ian’s exhausted. He fell asleep right after dinner.” Liam, ever the professional, hung up without another word. Slowly, my own eyelids grew heavy. I climbed onto the bed, wrapped my arms around his waist, and let sleep pull me under. I was jolted awake in the middle of the night by Ian’s furious roar. “Emma!” I shot upright, the sudden movement making my head swim. The world went black for a second, and I tumbled back down, landing in his arms. “Emma! What the hell are you doing?” Doing? I propped myself up on my elbows, my vision still blurry as I looked at him. “Take a guess.” His expression darkened. I shifted, kneeling on the bed to look down at him. “Since you’re awake, let’s get down to business.” Ian’s brow furrowed, his powerful arms straining against the silk ties. A flicker of panic went through me. If he broke free, this whole desperate charade would be for nothing. Closing my eyes, I threw myself on top of him. “Don’t move! Just listen to me!” He gritted his teeth, his voice a low, hateful snarl. “Are you insane?” I lifted my head slightly, my face inches from his. “No, I’m not insane.” “Then what is this?” “I have you tied to my bed. What do you think I want to do?” His pupils constricted, the disgust on his face impossible to hide. “Emma! It’s me, Ian!” he seethed. “Have you lost all sense of decency?” I didn’t want to hear his accusations. My hand shot out to the nightstand, grabbing the first soft thing I could find—a stray sock—and stuffed it into his mouth. Ignoring the fire in his eyes, I stared him down. “Shut up!” He struggled again, but the ties held firm. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs. “I’m going to kiss you,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Don’t you dare interrupt me.” I pulled the sock from his mouth, and before he could speak, I closed my eyes and crashed my lips against his. My clumsy fingers fumbled with his shirt, sending buttons scattering across the floor. I was like a survivor clinging to the last piece of driftwood in a storm, desperate for an escape, for a release. All the pent-up emotion, all the years of silent longing, I poured them out onto his skin, my mouth finding every inch of him as he let out muffled, guttural groans. My friend Lucy once told me that in bed, a man thinks with only one part of his body. She was right. As my movements grew bolder, more desperate, Ian stopped trying to curse me. The only sounds from him now were those deep, continuous groans. When it was over, his face was flushed, a look of profound humiliation in his eyes. I couldn’t stand to see it. I threw on my clothes and headed for the bathroom. As I was about to leave, his voice, raw and strained, stopped me. “Emma!” I turned. “What?” His eyes were red with fury. “If you’ve got any guts, you’ll let me go.” I froze for a second, then a bitter, careless smile touched my lips. “Oh, I’ll let you go,” I said. “Just not yet.” 3 After my shower, I had intended to go back to my own room. But the memory of Ian’s abs, rock-solid beneath my touch, pulled me back. I returned to the guest room. He was still awake, staring at the ceiling like a frog about to be dissected. The moment I walked in, he started again, his voice laced with venom. “Untie me!” I shook my head. “No.” “Have you no shame?” “What do you possibly gain from doing this?” “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to have some self-respect?” He knew that would hit a nerve. He was being deliberately cruel. My lips pressed into a thin line. I said nothing, just walked silently to the bed. I kicked off my slippers, climbed onto the mattress, and straddled him. He scowled, about to launch into another tirade, but I covered his mouth with my hand. “You shut up and listen to me,” I said, my voice low. “I’ve known you for eleven years, and I’ve loved you for ten. I’ve tried to give up, but I can’t. I’m not willing to.” “I know you don’t like me. They say the one who loves is the one who has to be brave, so I’m being brave.” “I’m going to have you. And there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me!” With that, my eyes burning with unshed tears, I leaned down and kissed him again. Ian’s lips were thin and cool, with a faint taste of mint. I was already exhausted, but I could feel a distinct change in him, a response he couldn’t hide. I pulled back and looked at his face, a triumphant, wicked smile spreading across mine. “Still pretending to be the cool, untouchable CEO? You’re not so different from any other man, are you?” Throughout it all, the sounds Ian made left my face burning, but filled me with a deep, forbidden satisfaction. The next time I opened my eyes, Ian was already awake. To my relief, his expression wasn’t one of pure, violated humiliation anymore. When he saw me stir, he spoke, his voice hoarse. “Untie me.” “No.” He let out a sigh of exasperation and switched tactics. “Emma, what’s gotten into you? How long are you planning on keeping me here?” I counted on my fingers and then held up a number. “Seven days.” Ian was speechless. “Why are you doing this?” “No reason,” I said calmly, pulling on a robe as I got out of bed. “I just decided I’m going to spend seven days with you.” I expected him to explode, but instead, a dark, humorless smile twisted his lips. “This is illegal confinement, Emma. You know how much I have to do every day, how many people need to reach me. If I just vanish, do you really think you can keep me here for a week?” I stood frozen beside the bed. He was right. He was a grown man. If he truly resisted, how long could I possibly hold him? “Emma, let me go. I promise I won’t leave.” I stared at him for a few seconds, then stubbornly shook my head. “I don’t believe you.” “Emma, I have extremely important work to do. You can stay by my side, but you have to let me out of here.” He thought he’d offered a compromise I couldn’t refuse. But I rejected it without a second thought. “Until the police break down my door,” I said, my voice unyielding, “you’re staying right here.” Ian knew it was useless. His dark eyes scanned me from head to toe, a long, searching look. Then, to my utter shock, he relented. “If you keep me tied up like this for seven days, my hands and feet will be useless. Is that what you want?” “No.” “But I have no other choice. I can’t overpower you, and I can’t stop you from leaving. I’m sorry to have to do this to you.” “Emma,” he said, his voice deadly serious now. “I swear on my grandmother’s memory, I will not leave this house for seven days.” Ian’s grandmother. I knew how much she meant to him. I knew how genuinely kind she had been to me. When she passed away, Ian and I had huddled in a corner together, crying our eyes out. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. “You need me to cooperate,” he continued, his tone reasonable. “Otherwise, it’s very likely your door will be broken down by this afternoon.” His voice was sincere. I knew he was telling the truth. The CEO of Sterling Corporation goes missing? It would be a major news story. I wanted to keep him here, but I didn’t want to die with a criminal record. I could already imagine the sleazy, sensational headlines the media would write. I gave in. I tossed his clothes to him and then, one by one, untied the knots. He gritted his teeth as he flexed his stiff hands, his voice dripping with scorn. “I never realized you were such a psycho.” My face was a mask. “There’s a lot you’ve never realized.” His eyes fell on the chaotic pile of silk ties on the floor. He looked back at me, incredulous. “Where did you get so many of these?” “I’d see one I thought would look good on you, and I’d buy it. Before I knew it, I had a whole collection.” At least they hadn’t gone to waste. They’d finally been used on him, after all. “Why didn’t you ever give them to me?” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “I’m not in the habit of throwing myself at someone who gives me the cold shoulder.” Ian’s expression turned cold. “So you decided to just take what you wanted by force?” A hot blush spread from my face all the way down to my toes. In the heat of my madness, I hadn’t cared about the consequences. But hearing him say it out loud, I was suddenly flooded with shame. To get a man, I had to resort to tying him up. But the feeling passed quickly. I told myself it was worth it. At least I’d done something this crazy once in my life. 4 Ian was true to his word. Once I freed him, he didn’t try to force his way out. He just asked for my laptop. “Are you going to email Liam for help?” He gave me a look you’d give a complete idiot. “Are you dense? If I wanted to leave, would I need to call someone?” It wasn’t that I was dense. It was that my brain was literally failing me. I gave him the computer. I’d already quit my job, so it was no use to me. Ian sat on the balcony, dealing with work, while I curled up on the living room sofa and just watched him. The sunlight streamed in at a perfect angle, creating a fleeting illusion of domestic bliss. An illusion I had stolen. The afternoon sun was bright, and as I watched him, a wave of drowsiness washed over me. I fought to stay awake, but my consciousness slipped away. When I opened my eyes again, Ian was gone. I shot up, my bare feet cold against the floor as I frantically searched the apartment. My heart was in my throat until I threw open the bathroom door. It dropped back into my chest, but the moment I saw him, my sanity checked out. I launched myself at him. I had no technique, only a desperate need to leave my mark, my mouth hungry and wild. A frantic deer was trapped in my chest, crashing against my ribs. I clung to him like an octopus, terrified he would push me away. Through the haze, I heard Ian let out a resigned sigh. Then, a strong arm wrapped around me, lifting me up. “You’re a maniac,” he murmured against my skin. “But I like it.” Like what? Before I could process it, his teeth grazed my neck, and suddenly, the tables had turned. I was beginning to believe what Lucy had told me. For men, loving and doing are two completely different things. Afterward, as the heady lust faded, Ian leaned against the headboard and studied me. “Emma, I’m seriously starting to wonder if you’ve been possessed by some kind of demon.” After all the years we’d known each other, it wasn’t strange for him to be suspicious. I was acting completely out of character. “You’re right,” I said, nodding seriously. “A succubus.” Ian’s eyes narrowed. “And why didn’t this succubus go after someone else?” I tilted my head, pretending to think. “Probably because you were the easiest target around.” I picked up my phone to order food, but Ian’s hand shot out and stopped me. “What? You lure me here with a home-cooked meal, have your way with me, and now you’re just going to fob me off with takeout?” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. Half an hour later, the delivery driver knocked on the door. Ian watched as I took the yellow paper bag, his pupils contracting sharply. When I pulled out a small, square box of pills from inside, he finally snapped. He lunged forward, his fingers clamping around my chin. “Emma! What the hell are you doing? You’re taking that?” “What,” I said, the word a struggle, “did you want me to give you an heir to the Sterling fortune?” Rage contorted his features, his whole body radiating fury. His grip tightened. “You have the audacity to do all this, but you’re afraid of having a baby?” “You’re hurting me!” I wrenched myself free from his grasp, knowing I had truly pushed him too far. So I concocted a plausible lie. “Of course I’d want to have your baby. It’s just… I suddenly remembered I took a bunch of antibiotics for a cold a few days ago.” I frowned, looking at him. “What? Did you want me to have a child just to blackmail you with it?” Ian looked away, his voice icy. “In your dreams, you greedy, insatiable woman.” “Ian, you’re never like this with me! Yes, I forced you, but if you truly didn’t want it, I couldn’t have forced you!” He was furious. I thought he would storm out right then and there. But he just slammed the guest room door with a deafening bang. Huh. A man of his word. It almost made me feel guilty.

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I’ve never been one for beating around the bush. So when I found the string of fiery texts between my firefighter fiancé, Nate, and some girl I’d never heard of, I didn’t fall apart. I didn’t scream. I just handed him his phone and waited, my face perfectly calm, for an answer. The silence in our apartment stretched until it was thin enough to snap. Finally, he spoke, his voice raspy. “She’s a girl I rescued from a fire. She’s… going through some things. I’ll admit, for a second, I felt something.” “But Ava,” he pleaded, “we’re high school sweethearts. We made it this far. I swear to you, I’ll cut it off. Clean break.” I stared into Nate’s eyes, so full of earnest desperation, and pushed down the sharp, twisting pain in my chest. I nodded. The wedding was still on. I had no idea how quickly that promise would turn to ash. On our wedding day, one of his fellow firefighters, Ben, burst through the chapel doors like a human cannonball. “Nate! It’s Maya! She found out you’re getting married! She’s on a roof downtown, says she’s gonna jump!” The diamond ring, the one he was about to slip onto my finger, hovered in the space between us. Then it fell. The clink it made against the polished floor was the loudest sound I’d ever heard. Nate was a blur, a lightning strike bolting for the door. I stared at his back, my eyes burning so hot I thought they might bleed. I pulled every ounce of air into my lungs and screamed. “Nate, if you walk out that door right now, we are done! Do you hear me? We are over!” He paused for a fraction of a second—a flicker of hesitation. He didn’t even turn around. And then, he was gone. The vow he’d made to me had become a joke, and I was the punchline. … The wedding devolved into a grotesque circus. The whispers of our guests were a thousand tiny needles in my ears, a high-pitched hum of pity and speculation. Our parents rushed to my side, their faces masks of confusion and panic. Nate’s teammate, Ben, just stood there, his face the color of raw liver, wringing his hands. “Ava… I’m so sorry. It’s just… Maya, she has severe depression. Nate saved her life before… and she’s latched onto him. She says he’s the only one who can talk her down. It’s a life-or-death thing, he didn’t have a choice. Please don’t be mad at him…” Ben had been Nate’s shadow for three years. He used to greet me with a wide, easy grin, calling me “sis” like we were already family. Now, he couldn’t even meet my eyes. I wondered how many of Nate’s dirty little secrets Ben had helped him hide. How many late-night calls from Maya had he helped cover up? A suffocating pain bloomed in my chest, and for the first time, I truly understood the taste of betrayal. My parents gripped my hands, their own voices tight with unshed tears. “What is going on? He’s on leave for his own wedding! Who in God’s name needs to be rescued by him right now?” Nate’s parents stood nearby, his mother frantically dialing his phone over and over, muttering through gritted teeth, “You just wait, Ava, honey. I’m going to make that son of mine crawl back here. If he doesn’t, I swear I’ll have his hide!” The fallen diamond ring was kicked around by shuffling feet on the red aisle runner, rolling further and further away, just like my heart, which had been stomped into the ground. I stood frozen in my white dress, the train pooling around my feet like a heavy, rain-soaked cloud. I had imagined my wedding day a million times. Not once did I imagine this: a pathetic one-act play where the groom abandons his bride at the altar for another woman. For five agonizing hours, I called Nate 108 times. He didn’t answer once. I watched my phone screen light up and go dark, light up and go dark, until the battery finally died, leaving me with a silent, black rectangle. The late afternoon sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of the church, casting a mottled patch of light on my empty ring finger. The light should have been warm, but it felt colder than ice. The guests trickled away, leaving behind a battlefield of wilting flowers and half-eaten cake. Suddenly, the world began to spin, the church dissolving into a massive vortex. The last thing I heard before the blackness swallowed me was my mother’s ragged, terrified scream. 1 I woke up in a hospital. The sterile, cold scent of antiseptic filled my nose. A nurse was changing my IV bag. Seeing my eyes open, she spoke in a soft voice. “You need to take it easy now. You’re watching out for two people. No more stress. You have to take care of yourself.” Two people? I stared at the stark white ceiling as a single, silent tear escaped and traced a cold path into my hair. I was seventeen when Nate stuffed a crumpled love note into my locker, so nervous he practically tripped over his own feet. In college, we were long-distance. He once drove his clunker of a car for twenty hours straight through three states, just to surprise me for my birthday. The day he graduated from the fire academy, he held me tight, his eyes red with emotion. “My job is to run into fires for strangers,” he’d said. “Imagine what I’d do for you.” Seven years. The memories flashed through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. I looked at the barely concealed joy on my parents’ faces, and on Nate’s parents’ faces, and forced a smile that felt more painful than crying. How could I tell them? I was pregnant with the child of the man I’d loved for seven years, but our story was over. At seven o’clock that evening, after being gone for six hours, Nate finally showed up. He was pale, and he looked at me with just the right amount of guilt in his eyes. “Ava, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “Maya… I couldn’t just let her die. It’s my duty.” My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I swallowed the bitterness and asked, my voice cold, “Are you the only firefighter in the entire city? Did they all die today?” “She doesn’t jump yesterday, she doesn’t jump tomorrow. She picks our wedding day, and you’re the only one who can save her. What kind of game do you think she’s playing, Nate? Do you really think I’m that stupid?” He fell silent. After a long moment, he took my hand. It was freezing. His voice was tight. “Ava, in seven years, I have never asked you for anything. Not really. But I’m asking you now. Please, don’t make a big deal out of this. Don’t let it get back to Maya. With her condition… she can’t handle that kind of stress.” I stared at the plea in his eyes, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible fist, the pain so sharp I couldn’t breathe. He should be apologizing to me, not asking for favors. A person’s first instinct doesn’t lie. He never once thought about how humiliated I was, left alone at our wedding. He never considered why I would have collapsed, why I was in a hospital. The first words out of his mouth, the first thoughts in his head, were all for another woman. Tears fell like broken pearls, hitting the white hospital blanket and blooming into small, dark stains. It took all the strength I had to force out a single word. “Fine.” He let out a breath, the relief on his face so obvious it was like a slap. Then, he delivered an even crueler blow. “Maya’s really unstable because of the wedding. I think… I think we should postpone it for a little while.” “I need to be there for her, through her treatment. Once she’s in a better place… maybe three months. Just three months, and we’ll have the ceremony then, okay?” His voice was a careful, gentle probe. I’d waited seven years. What was three more months? But looking into his eyes, so full of worry for someone else, I suddenly knew. I couldn’t wait another day, let alone three months. The tiny life inside me seemed to sense my despair, giving a faint, fluttery twitch. I placed a hand on my stomach. A six-week-old life. It was once the product of our love. Now, it felt like it was mine alone. I slowly pulled my hand from his grip. My voice was as still and dead as a stagnant pond. “Nate.” “My memory isn’t what it used to be. But I remember being seventeen, and you being too nervous to walk straight after you gave me that note.” “I remember the first time you held my hand, your palm was sweating so much. We walked for three blocks and you never let go.” “I remember when we graduated college, you held me and promised you’d take care of me forever, that you’d make me the happiest bride in the world.” “All these years… you remembered I hate onions, that I need hot tea during my period, all my little quirks… I really thought you loved me more than life itself.” I lifted my head and looked him straight in the eye, the dam finally breaking. “But today, Nate. Today, I can’t feel your love at all. Not a single drop.” The weight of seven years washed over us. Nate’s eyes reddened, his throat worked, and a single tear fell from his eye. “But Ava,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Right now… Maya can’t be without me.” She can’t be without me. The words were a sledgehammer, shattering the last fragile piece of hope in my heart. I looked at him and suddenly, I laughed. And as I laughed, the tears flowed even faster. “Then go be with her.” He froze, as if he couldn’t believe I’d let him go so easily. But in the end, he didn’t say another word. He just turned, and walked out of my life without a backward glance. 2 The next day, I checked myself out of the hospital. As I rounded a corner in the hallway, I ran right into Nate. He didn’t even see me at first. All his attention, all his tenderness, was focused on the girl at his side. She wore an oversized hospital gown, her face a ghostly white. He was holding her up, half-supporting, half-embracing her, like she was a porcelain doll that might shatter at any moment. So this was Maya. This was the woman who could make him abandon me at the altar. Perhaps my stare was too cold, because she saw me first. She flinched like a startled rabbit, instinctively hiding behind Nate and clutching at the fabric of his jacket. Only then did Nate look up. His brow furrowed instantly, his tone dripping with unconcealed annoyance. “Ava, what are you doing here? Maya’s just starting to stabilize. Whatever it is, we can talk about it at home. Don’t make a scene at the hospital, you’ll scare her.” Maya peeked out from behind him, her voice as thin as a mosquito’s buzz. “Ava… it’s really not like that between Nate and me… Please don’t misunderstand.” I clutched the ultrasound report in my hand, my knuckles turning white. But I managed a faint, cool smile. “You’re overthinking it. I’m just here to sign my discharge papers.” Without another glance at them, I turned and walked away. A strange look flickered across Nate’s face, as if my calmness had unsettled him, leaving an unexpected void in his chest. He reflexively reached out to grab my arm. I stopped and my gaze landed on a smudge on his coat—it looked like makeup. His eyes followed mine. He glanced down at the stain, then started to take off his coat to offer it to me. I sidestepped him. He stood there, stunned for a moment, then hurried after me, reaching for the coat I was now holding. “Let me take that. It’s your favorite, isn’t it? I’ll get it cleaned for you.” I shook my head, not even looking at him. I walked over to the nearby trash can and dropped the coat inside. My voice was as bland as if I were commenting on the weather. “I don’t want it anymore. It’s stained. You know how I am about stains. I have a thing about cleanliness.” The expression on Nate’s face froze. He knew I wasn’t just talking about the coat. I was talking about us. He opened his mouth to say something else, but I was already gone. As I walked out of the hospital, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Nate. [Don’t be mad. I ordered that Napoleon cake you love from the bakery downtown. It’s on its way.] When the delivery arrived at my apartment, I stared at the familiar pink box and felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat. This was his go-to move. Every time he screwed up, he’d use this cake to smooth things over. It always worked. I mechanically scooped a bite into my mouth. The cake that used to be a decadent, sugary treat now tasted of nothing but ash. Nate didn’t come home that night. Tearing a seven-year relationship out of my life was more painful than I ever could have imagined. I didn’t sleep a wink. In the pre-dawn hours, I got up and started packing. The matching hoodies hanging side-by-side in the closet. The framed photos of us on the bookshelf. The little notes he left on the fridge. Every object was a knife, twisted with memories, stabbing me in the heart. I remembered the year we graduated. Nate had just joined the fire department and was working insane hours. But he’d used his first precious day off to see me, his eyes shining like they held constellations. “Ava,” he’d said, “as soon as I save up for a down payment, we’re getting married.” Three years later, he was on one knee, holding out a deed and a diamond ring, his voice trembling. “I did it. I promised you a home, and I keep my promises.” The sun was bright that day. I cried in his arms for what felt like hours, feeling like the luckiest person on earth. We painted the walls ourselves, struggled to assemble IKEA furniture, and filled the balcony with sunflowers, my favorite. He said he wanted to make sure the sun would always shine in our home. But now, there was no longer a place for me in this home. As I taped up the last box, the sun was rising. The moving truck I’d called had just pulled up downstairs when both sets of our parents arrived. I didn’t say anything. They still couldn’t understand how two people who were about to get married two days ago were now tearing their lives apart. My mom and dad just sighed, telling me, “If you want to come home, just come home.” But Nate’s mom grabbed my hand, refusing to let go. “Ava, please, just give him one more chance. What happened at the wedding… he was just confused for a moment. He loves you, I know he does…” I remained silent, simply motioning for the movers to continue. Just as his mom’s voice was growing hoarse from pleading, the front door opened. Nate was back. And he wasn’t alone. He had brought Maya into our home. She was wearing his jacket, clinging to his arm like a timid kitten. The air in the room instantly turned to ice. Every pair of eyes was fixed on them. Nate’s mother’s voice trembled. “Nate… did you… did you really do something to hurt Ava?” His father was shaking with rage. “Who is this girl?!” Nate didn’t answer. His eyes swept over the nearly empty living room, finally landing on me. “You’re moving out?” “Yeah,” I said calmly. “Back to my parents’.” He seemed to relax a little. “That’s probably for the best. I’ll come get you before the new wedding date.” He said it so casually. Then he stepped aside, pulling Maya in front of him. “This is Maya. She’s a patient with depression I rescued on a call. The department asked me to look after her for a while to help her stabilize.” His explanation was so matter-of-fact, it made all of our outrage seem petty and small-minded. Maya immediately offered a sweet smile and reached out to take his mother’s arm. “It’s so nice to meet you. Nate takes such good care of me. He even said he’d bring me home for dinner tonight. Since everyone’s here, why don’t I cook? You can all taste my cooking.” Nate’s mom looked at me, her expression pained. “Ava, maybe… maybe we should all just sit down and talk this through?” I was about to refuse when Maya turned to me, a glint of something sharp and provocative in her eyes. “You should stay too, Ava. The more the merrier, right?” CRACK. The sharp, clean sound of a slap echoed through the silent room. My eyes flew open in shock. It was my mother. She had slapped Maya across the face. “Mom!” I cried out instinctively. My mom turned to me, her eyes red, her voice shaking violently. “You are my daughter. Do you think I don’t know you?” “You’ve been with him since you were seventeen. You’re twenty-four now. Seven whole years! You quit that amazing job at the design firm for him, stayed home to play house for him, learned to cook his favorite meals, you even know which damn drawer he keeps his stinking socks in! Do you think you would be walking out today if your heart wasn’t completely shattered?” “I don’t need my daughter to marry a rich man, but I will not stand by while he brings another woman into your home to humiliate you. I will not tolerate it!” “If you won’t stand up for yourself, then I’ll do it for you!” My mother’s words hit me like a bolt of lightning, and my eyes instantly burned with hot tears. Maya clutched her cheek, tears welling in her eyes, but she didn’t dare make a sound. Nate immediately shielded her, his face dark enough to storm. “Ava! How old are you? Still running home to mommy and tattling…” I didn’t let him finish. I lunged forward and, with all the strength I had, I slapped him too. “Nate, you’re the one who deserves to be hit!” After I hit him, I grabbed the piece of paper from the coffee table drawer and threw it in his face—the still-warm ultrasound report.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384731”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel