Category: English

Hayden Shaw came to St. Jude’s Home for Children to choose a sister. Every other girl scrambled to be seen, praying they’d be the one. I was the only one hidden away, fast asleep in a wardrobe. I thought I could escape it this time. Escape the fate of becoming a Shaw, and eventually, becoming Hayden Shaw’s wife. I thought I could finally live a life that was my own, free and happy. But when I woke up, the first thing I saw was Hayden, standing before the open wardrobe door. He smiled and asked me, “Cora, how would you like to come home with me?” 1 When Hayden Shaw’s face swam into view, my first thought was that I was still trapped in the nightmare. It wasn’t until the director’s sharp voice cut through the haze that I knew it was real. “Cora, what are you doing sleeping in there?” The fog in my head cleared. This was happening. Seeing me frozen, the director, Mrs. Davison, reached in and pulled me out of the wardrobe. The smell of mothballs and old wool clung to me. She straightened my collar, her fingers rough, and then nudged me forward, towards the Shaws. “You were asleep. Mr. Shaw was kind enough to ask us not to wake you.” Her voice was tight with an unspoken reprimand. “We’ve all been waiting for you.” Hayden stood just in front of his parents, a faint, unreadable smile on his face as he looked at me. He was different from the cold, distant Hayden I remembered. Softer. Younger. He spoke first. “Hi, Cora.” For some reason, hearing my name from his lips felt deeply, unnervingly strange. I frowned, my gaze dropping to the floor to avoid his. A question burned in my mind: they could have picked anyone else. Why wait for me? “Waiting for me? For what?” Mrs. Davison crouched down, her usual stern expression replaced by a rare, strained smile. “They want to adopt you, Cora. You’re going to have a family. A mother, a father… and a brother.” I think she was trying to be happy for me. For any child at St. Jude’s, being chosen was like winning the lottery. But Mrs. Davison didn’t know my secret. I’d lived this life before. I knew Hayden Shaw was coming today. That’s precisely why I’d hidden in the wardrobe. “Cora, sweetheart, won’t you come home with us?” Mrs. Shaw took my hand. Her touch was soft, her voice gentle. “Hayden has always wanted a little sister. You could be his sister.” The scene was a perfect, horrifying replica of the last time. The past flickered through my mind like a broken film projector. I snatched my hand back. I looked up, not at them, but at the director. “Mrs. Davison, I don’t want to be adopted by them.” A collective, sharp intake of breath filled the room. Everyone was stunned. Hayden’s reaction was the strongest. His smile vanished, his brow furrowing. “Why?” “Because I don’t want to be your sister.” Despite my rejection, no anger appeared on his face. Instead, his voice became even gentler, laced with an unnerving thread of indulgence. “Then don’t be my sister. Just come home with the Shaws. Live with us. Is that okay?” Mrs. Davison gave my sleeve a sharp tug, a silent, desperate plea. It didn’t stop me from refusing him again. “No.” I thought that would be the end of it. But when the director, flustered, asked the Shaws if they’d like to see the other girls, Hayden’s voice rang out, loud and clear. “Mom. I want her.” He looked straight at me. “Only her. She’s the one who looks the most like my sister.” 2 Last time, that was the reason he’d given, too. I looked like his dead sister. Back then, when I learned I was chosen, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. I was taken to the Shaw’s sprawling estate, given a new name—Cora Shaw—and my very own room in their enormous house. I didn’t care that the room wasn’t truly mine. I was just grateful to have it. “Girls from the system can be… unpolished,” Mrs. Shaw had said. “Their manners aren’t fit for our world.” So, I shed my old self like a snake sheds its skin, molding myself into someone I no longer recognized. Mrs. Shaw was exacting. I was forced to practice the piano for hours upon hours every day. Even when my teacher insisted I had no natural talent, Mrs. Shaw would sit with me, a constant, smiling presence. But you can’t force a flower to bloom in barren soil. “I’m sorry, Mom. I still can’t get it right,” I’d apologize, my fingers aching. And every time, she would look at me with that same indulgent expression and soothe me. “It’s alright, darling. As long as you keep trying, you’ll be wonderful one day.” It was much later that I learned her deceased daughter had loved the piano. All of Mrs. Shaw’s affection was just her projecting a ghost onto me. I was a stand-in. I didn’t care. A drowning fish doesn’t question the purity of the water; it only gasps for a breath. Her love was my water. I would take it, clean or not. I tried harder at the piano, harder at pleasing her. We grew closer, our relationship blurring into something that felt real. Until Hayden’s engagement party. He was drugged. I was the one who stumbled into his room. When Mr. Shaw found us, the shock sent him into a fatal collapse. Mrs. Shaw slapped me across the face, her eyes blazing with a hatred I’d never seen. “I should never have brought you into this house.” Hayden just watched me, his expression unreadable. But I knew. I knew he was regretting it, too. Regretting the day he chose me to be his sister. “I don’t know what happened,” I pleaded, my voice raw. “I didn’t drug him. I swear.” No one believed me. Later, for years, during every betrayal, every public humiliation in our forced marriage, he would sneer, “You drugged your own brother to marry him. Don’t you dare play the victim now. This is your karma.” Hayden hated me. He took pleasure in shaming me, in making sure everyone in our circle knew I was beneath him. They all placed bets on how long our marriage would last. “A year, tops,” they’d whisper. “The second that baby is born, he’ll kick her to the curb.” They were all wrong. Hayden and I were tangled together for nineteen years. Even after I died, the words carved on my tombstone were: Beloved Wife of Hayden Shaw. … “Cora, tell me. Why don’t you want to be adopted by the Shaws?” After his parents left, Mrs. Davison called me into her office. I was silent for a long time before offering a weak lie. “I don’t want to leave you and everyone here.” She sighed, a heavy, tired sound, and urged me to reconsider. I knew she meant well. She wanted a better life for me. But I refused to walk that path again. I would not have anything to do with Hayden Shaw. That night, a fire broke out, and all my plans went up in smoke. 3 “Did you set the fire?” I stared at him from my hospital cot, my voice cold and flat. “No,” Hayden said, his denial swift and earnest. “The fire department investigated. It was old wiring.” He let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh. “Cora, you think I’m a monster.” In this life, we’d only met a handful of times, yet he spoke to me with a disturbing familiarity. “I just want to help you,” he said, his voice low. “If you agree to come home with me, I’ll cover all of Mrs. Davison’s medical bills.” She had been badly burned trying to get us all out. I let out a cold laugh. “Taking advantage of a tragedy. Does that make you a good person?” He didn’t try to defend himself. He just said, “Cora, you don’t have to be my sister. You can just be a foster child. Living with us.” He was persuasive, relentless in his compromise. But it only made me more suspicious. “Why are you so desperate to have me at your house?” “My mother… she’s been missing my sister a lot lately. And you look so much like her,” Hayden said. “I thought bringing you home might comfort her.” I was only half-convinced. His behavior was too strange, too intense. I pressed him. “Is that all?” He hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “That’s all.” I didn’t want anything to do with him, but Mrs. Davison was lying in a hospital bed, her life hanging in the balance. I had no choice. On the drive to the Shaw estate, Hayden kept trying to talk to me, but I remained silent, staring out the window. He must have sensed my hostility, because his tone softened, became almost pleading. “The Shaws can give you a better life. It’s better than the group home, no matter how you look at it,” he said. “Cora, don’t be angry with me. I’m doing this for your own good.” I’m doing this for your own good… He’d said that in our last life, too. After hating me for more than a decade, his attitude had softened in my final days. But by then, the cancer was untreatable. My only companion was a small stray cat I’d taken in. One day, on a whim, Hayden came to visit me at the villa. The first thing he did was have someone throw the cat out. I’d asked him, my voice weak, “Why?” He’d looked down at me, his expression cool. “I’m doing this for your own good.” I knew then what it meant. It was never about my well-being. It was an excuse he used to satisfy his own selfish desires, his need for control. Or maybe it was just another way to torture me. He’d always been like that. Whatever I cherished, he destroyed. … As the car pulled up to the house, I saw Mrs. Shaw waiting at the front door. Hayden had called ahead. A room on the second floor had already been prepared. “Cora, this will be your room,” she said, taking my hand with a cloying familiarity. “Do you like it?” I looked down at our joined hands for a moment before pulling mine away. I was no longer the desperate, love-starved girl from my past life. “Mrs. Shaw,” I said, my voice even. “This was your daughter’s room, wasn’t it?” I gestured to the perfectly preserved space. “You’ve kept all her things. You clearly treasure them.” I met her eyes. “If I stayed in here, I might accidentally break something. I wouldn’t want to cause you any pain.” I finished, “I saw there’s a guest room downstairs. I’ll stay there.” Mrs. Shaw looked at me, about to argue. “But…” “Mom,” Hayden cut in. “If Cora wants to stay downstairs, just have the housekeeper prepare it.” I glanced at him, the one who was supposedly speaking up for me. He had no idea. The real reason I refused to stay on the second floor was because his bedroom was right next door. In our past life, before the engagement party, we’d had a harmonious relationship, or so I thought. I was a teenager with a crush. I remember Mrs. Shaw asking me, “Cora, what kind of boys do you like?” I’d looked over at Hayden, flushed and sweaty from his morning run, and smiled. “Someone like my brother.” That innocent, offhand remark later became evidence in the trial of my character. Proof that I had plotted to drug my own brother. Every time I tried to defend myself—“I didn’t drug you”—Hayden would grab me, his fingers digging into my neck. “You told my mother you liked me when you were sixteen,” he’d hiss. “You were obsessed. You drugged me to force my hand, and now you don’t have the guts to admit it?” 4 Perhaps it was being back in this house, but that night, my dreams were filled with memories of the life before. In my final days, my oncologist had suggested, “You shouldn’t be alone all the time. Call your family, your friends. Have them visit.” “I don’t have any family,” I had told her. As for friends… my best friend used to be Hayden’s fiancée, Scarlett Jensen. She returned to the country five years into my marriage with Hayden. He picked her up from the airport himself and threw a lavish ‘welcome home’ party for her. Someone deliberately recorded a video at that party and sent it to me. It showed the two of them in a dark corner, locked in a passionate kiss. It was only a few seconds long, but I watched it on a loop all night. That was the night I made a choice. I gave up on our second child, and I asked Hayden for a divorce. He asked me, “On what grounds?” I showed him the video. “Hayden, I know you were forced to marry me. But Scarlett is back now, and it looks like she’s forgiven you. Let’s divorce. We can go our separate ways.” I had asked for a divorce many times before, and he had always refused. I thought, with Scarlett’s return, he would finally agree. But Hayden just tore up the papers I’d prepared and deleted the video from my phone. … “Cora? Cora?” I woke with a gasp, my hand lashing out, connecting with a sharp crack against Hayden’s cheek. He looked at me, a boy’s face, his eyes wide with something that looked like hurt. “I heard you crying from the hall,” he said softly. “I just came in to check on you.” He turned to leave, then paused at the door. “You should get up. We’re going to be late for school.” Just like last time, the Shaws had enrolled me in Hayden’s high school. As I followed him into the classroom, someone called out, “Hey, Hayden, who’s that?” He introduced me. “This is Cora. She’s staying with my family for now.” A flicker of memory. In our past life, before everything went wrong, he always introduced me with pride. “This is my sister, Cora Shaw.” I looked at Hayden, standing just a foot away from me, and a strange realization dawned. He wasn’t the same as the boy I remembered from my first life. But he wasn’t the cruel, vengeful man he became, either. He was… something else. My heart hammered against my ribs. A terrifying thought began to form. “Hayden.” “Hayden.” Another voice called his name at the exact same moment as mine. He glanced at me, then looked past me, towards the classroom door. I turned to follow his gaze. It was Scarlett Jensen. “Hayden, wait for me after school. I need to talk to you,” she said, her eyes fixed on him. Only then did she seem to notice me standing beside him. Her expression soured instantly. She sized me up, a quick, dismissive scan from head to toe. “So you’re the girl staying at the Shaws’?” She was my best friend in my past life. I knew her tells. And right now, the hostility rolling off her was unmistakable. This was completely different. Back then, when Scarlett learned I was Hayden’s sister, she had looped her arm through mine, called me Cora, and welcomed me into her inner circle. Now, she looked at me the way she did the very last time I saw her. It had been an ugly confrontation. I had asked her, “The security footage shows only you and I went into Hayden’s room that night. I didn’t drug him. So it was you, wasn’t it?” I couldn’t understand it. She loved him so much. Why would she ruin their own engagement party? “Her name is Cora,” Hayden answered for me. Scarlett forced a tight smile, then said nothing more. Throughout the morning classes, I could feel her eyes on my back. As much as it unsettled me, I forced myself to ignore her, to focus on the words in the textbook in front of me. 5 In my past life, I was a terrible student. Mrs. Shaw never cared. In fact, the worse my grades were, the happier she seemed. “Cora is becoming more and more like my little girl,” she would say. “She never cared for books either.” A parent who truly loves their child plans for their future. What mother wishes for her daughter to be nothing more than a beautiful, empty shell? In the end, she never saw me as her daughter. I was just a toy, a comfort object to ease her grief. This time, I refused to live that way again. I wouldn’t spend the first half of my life as a substitute for a dead girl, and the second half as a useless, gilded canary, wasting away in a cage. Education was my only way out. But it wasn’t easy. Frustrated by my inability to understand the material, I pushed my chair back and stood up. Hayden, who had been talking with some friends, noticed the movement immediately. He turned to me. “Where are you going?” “The restroom,” I snapped, my patience worn thin. I remembered the girls’ restroom being perpetually crowded during breaks, but today, it was eerily empty. The moment I pushed the door open, I knew something was wrong. A group of girls inside all turned to look at me in unison. The one closest to me was Scarlett. She dropped a cigarette butt to the floor, grinding it out with her shoe. She glanced at another girl, crumpled on the wet floor and soaked with grimy water, before turning her attention to me. “Just messing around,” Scarlett said with a lazy smile. “You’re not going to tell Hayden, are you?” I looked from the cigarette to the girl on the floor. I realized then that I had never known Scarlett at all. I never knew she smoked, or that she was a bully. After a moment, I said, “Hayden and I aren’t that close.” “Really?” she asked, though her expression had already relaxed. “I thought you were living with him.” I met her gaze directly. “Living in the same house doesn’t mean we’re close.” Scarlett nodded. “Good.” With that, she and her friends filed out. Once they were gone, I looked at the girl on the floor. After a moment, I walked past her into a stall. When I came out, she was standing at the utility sink, her back to me. She was only in a thin camisole, washing her school-issued button-down shirt under the faucet. Hearing the door, she quickly wrung out the shirt and slipped the damp fabric back on. Head down, she made a dash for the exit. As she passed me, I reached out and grabbed her arm. The girl looked up at me, her eyes wide with confusion. We stared at each other for a long moment before I remembered her name. Leah. I took off my own cardigan and pushed it into her hands. “Your shirt is wet. Wear this.” Leah ducked her head, mumbling, “No, it’s okay.” “It’s see-through,” I said bluntly. “You can see your camisole right through it.” Her ears turned a deep shade of red. She clutched her arms across her chest, hesitating for a long moment before finally taking my cardigan. As Leah went into a stall to change, I let out a quiet breath of relief. I wasn’t the type to get involved. But I remembered her. In my last life, not long after I transferred here, Leah had jumped from the roof of the school. The official explanation was family problems and academic pressure. But seeing this now, I suspected there was more to her story. It was a life… a young life. “Thank you.” Leah’s voice was soft when she came out, now wearing my sweater. The words “you’re welcome” were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them. An idea was forming. “You get good grades, right?” I asked her. I remembered that before she died, she had been first in our year. She looked surprised, then nodded. “They’re okay.” “Leah,” I said, glancing at the cardigan she was wearing. “I’ll lend you my sweater. In return, you can tutor me.” I didn’t give her a chance to refuse. “After the next pop quiz, they’re rearranging the seating chart. We’ll be desk mates. It’ll be easier for you to help me.” Leah hesitated for a long time before finally agreeing. After school, Hayden insisted I ride home with him. The moment I got in the car, Scarlett ran up to the window. “Hayden, can we talk?” I had no interest in their drama and tried to tune them out. But the parking lot was quiet, and Scarlett’s voice was high and emotional, carrying on the wind. It drifted right into the car. “Is it because of her? Is Cora why you’re breaking up with me?” she demanded. “Hayden, we’ve been together for so long. The minute she shows up, you end things. What other reason could there be?” Hayden’s voice was weary. “It’s not about anyone else, Scarlett. I just… I suddenly realized that what I feel for you isn’t romantic. I’ve always seen you as a sister.” In that instant, everything clicked into place. I finally understood why Scarlett had been watching me all day, why she saw me as a threat.

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1 To save me from an invader, my parents traded their lives to the System. After they died, our assets were frozen. My brother, now hating me, was diagnosed with leukemia. I worked as a movie corpse to pay for his treatment. After ten coffin scenes, I finally had enough for one chemo session. Then I saw my “dead” parents taking a family photo with Tiana, my lookalike. My mother suggested inviting me, but my healthy brother objected, “This was her punishment. We’ll tell her when she’s no longer a threat. Besides, she’s bad luck now.” Clutching the money, I cried laughing. My phone buzzed: “Get treatment or you’ll die, Willow!” … “I’m not getting treatment,” I whispered. I shut off my phone and sat on the curb, the world fading to black around me. The pain, sharp and splintering like broken bones, seized my body again. Fumbling, I pulled out the painkillers I always carried, swallowing more than a dozen pills until the agony receded to a dull throb. My phone chimed. I opened it to see that their family portrait was trending online. Though their faces were artfully blurred, I knew it was them. The parents and the brother who had once cherished me. The sense of familiarity was a phantom limb, an ache I couldn’t shake. The caption read: ‘Billionaire and family dote on their beloved princess for a stunning family portrait!’ I had endured the agony of bone cancer without a single tear, but those words… a wave of grief so profound washed over me, and I finally broke. My brother’s call came through. “Where’s the money you earned today? Get it to me now! I heard you were in a coffin ten times. I want every single cent!” “Okay,” I answered, my voice flat as I swallowed the bitterness. My coldness must have unsettled him. “Don’t try anything funny,” he warned. “Every dollar you earn for the rest of your life belongs to me.” After hanging up, I drifted to the bus stop in a daze. As I waited, a luxury car glided past. It was only there for a few seconds, but through the window, I saw it all. My mother, her face glowing with affection, fastened a necklace around Tiana’s neck. My father stood beside them, clapping and smiling. Tiana sat between them… a perfect little princess. Before she had taken over my life, I was the princess. I was the one they had adored. In fact, until today, I had believed it was still true. I thought my parents had sacrificed their lives for me, that my brother’s hatred was just a mask for his unbearable grief. But it was all a lie. The person they loved was Tiana. For her, they had constructed this elaborate, cruel theater to deceive me, to punish me, to ensure I would live forever drowning in guilt for their ‘deaths.’ The pain was coming more frequently now. I stumbled back to my dingy walk-up, collapsing to the floor in a tight, agonized ball. I fumbled with the pill bottle, but just as I was about to shake some out, the door flew open. My brother was there, and he slapped the bottle from my hand, sending pills scattering across the dirty floor. “What’s with the act? If you want to sleep, go to your room! Don’t lie here like a corpse. Or have you gotten too used to the role?” I wrapped my arms around myself, my body convulsing in silent, excruciating pain. He kicked me, his voice laced with rage. “Hey! If you’re going to play dead, don’t do it on my doorstep! Go back to your coffin! You’re such bad luck!” When I didn’t move, he gave me one last, vicious kick and slammed the door shut. A moment later, the neighbor, Mrs. Gable, came out to take out her trash. She saw me and gasped. “Oh my God! Honey, your nose is bleeding!” 2 I scrambled to scoop a handful of the scattered pills from the floor and shoved them into my mouth. The door creaked open again. My brother stood there, his eyes wide with shock at the sight of my bloodied face and the small pool of crimson on the floor. He spoke, his concern awkward and forced. “What the hell happened? Why’s your nose bleeding?” The pills began to work their magic, dulling the sharpest edges of the pain. I used the wall to haul myself to my feet and stumbled inside. “It’s nothing.” Mrs. Gable’s eyes were filled with worry. Before she left, she called into the apartment, “Young man, you should take your sister to a hospital! She doesn’t look well at all!” I slumped onto a stool, closing my eyes and waiting for the world to stop spinning. My brother crossed his arms, studying me with a detached curiosity. “Willow, have you been playing dead for too long? The more I look at you, the more you look like you’re actually dying.” He smirked. “You look more like a patient than I do.” “Now, where’s the money you earned today? Hand it over. I need to get my prescription.” I pulled the wad of cash from my pocket—my payment for ten descents into a wooden box—and placed it in his outstretched hand. He slapped it against his other palm and turned to leave, then paused at the door, his gaze cold. “Don’t go in tomorrow. This is enough for a while. You wouldn’t want to actually die playing the part.” A bitter smile twisted my lips. I couldn’t tell if it was a flicker of concern or just more of his biting sarcasm. I must have dozed off, slumped against the wall, because the ping of my phone jolted me awake. The extras’ group chat was blowing up. “OMG! Who is that CEO brother?! He rented a luxury yacht for his sister for a whole month!” “I know, right?! He’s the best! He was so happy today he was literally throwing money off the deck! I’d be a janitor on that yacht for a month just to pick up cash all day!” … I scrolled up and found the video that had sent them into a frenzy. I pressed play, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. My brother’s voice, unmistakable and cheerful, filled the air. “Take it! This money feels tainted anyway! It’s the corpse cash my dead-beat sister earned!” “If I wasn’t faking being sick, I wouldn’t even touch this stuff.” With a grand gesture, he flung my hard-earned money into the sea. Then he turned and placed a diamond tiara, worth millions, on Tiana’s head. My body shook violently. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. He had thrown away my blood and sweat. To pay for his ‘leukemia,’ I hadn’t spent a single dollar on myself. I stretched one meal from the set into three. My clothes were patched and washed so thin they were nearly transparent. The only money I had ever spent was for the hospital visit that had diagnosed my bone cancer. And even then, I hadn’t dared to start treatment. The money was for him. And now I knew. He thought my money was tainted. Tears streamed down my face, my shoulders shaking with silent, racking sobs. The emotional shock sent a fresh wave of agony through my bones. Overwhelmed, I pitched forward and the world went black. When I woke up, I was in a hospital. It was Mrs. Gable. She had been worried about me, and after wrestling with her thoughts, she had decided to check on me. She’d found me unconscious on the floor and rushed me here. Her voice was tight with concern. “Honey! How could you, at your age…” Just then, my brother burst through the door, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Willow! What the hell are you doing, causing trouble? You get a little sick and I have to come running? I’m busy! You’re messing up my plans!” 3 I stared at him for a moment, a bitter smile touching my lips. A complete stranger could see that I was unwell, but my own brother, who saw me every day, was blind to it. The image of him laughing as he crowned Tiana flashed in my mind, and a single tear traced a path to my temple. His genuine, adoring smile would never be for me again. Mrs. Gable opened her mouth to tell him the truth, but I gripped her hand and shook my head. She reluctantly fell silent. As she left, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Young man, stop being so hard on your sister. Just be good to her.” Ethan ignored her completely, striding over to my bed. He glared at me, then sat down with a sigh, as if forced. “Willow, I have something to tell you. Try not to get too excited.” I kept my head turned away, my eyes closed. He didn’t care. He continued, “Mom and Dad aren’t dead. They’re coming back tomorrow.” His words hit me like a physical blow. I shot up in bed, my mouth opening and closing, unable to form a word. They were coming back? They hadn’t abandoned me. Of course. I was their precious daughter, the one they had cherished. How could they discard me for someone like Tiana? A genuine laugh escaped my lips, a terrifying sound coming from my pale, gaunt face. Ethan recoiled in disgust and left. Even with the searing pain knitting through my bones, my heart felt light. I ripped the IV from my hand and ran home. The reflection in the mirror startled me. My complexion was a ghostly, ashen white. My parents would be so worried if they saw me like this. I dug out a jar from under my bed, filled with years of saved-up coins. Pennies, dimes, nickels. I clutched a handful and ran to a dollar store, buying the cheapest, brightest red lipstick I could find. The next morning, I was up at dawn. I applied a thick layer of lipstick and dabbed some on my cheeks for color. I checked myself in the mirror again and again, satisfied that the ghastly pallor was hidden. Then, I sat by the door to wait. The hands on the clock spun, and waves of pain washed over me, each one a trial. Finally, as dusk settled, they arrived. My mother was dressed in a stunning gown, my father in a tailored suit. I looked down at my own tattered clothes and felt a pang of insecurity. As tears welled in my eyes, I stepped forward and whispered, “Mom…” She wrinkled her nose and took several steps back, her eyes filled with undisguised distaste. “Willow, it’s natural for a girl to want to look beautiful, but you don’t have to try so hard. It’s just laughable.” I forced down the lump in my throat, telling myself, It’s just because we’ve been apart. In a few days, it will be like it was before. My mother continued, “We came to take you home today.” “But, I have one condition.” I nodded eagerly. To spend my last days with them, I would agree to anything. She gestured toward the door. “Tiana, sweetheart, you can come in.” A moment later, Ethan walked in, leading Tiana by the hand. I was confused, until my mother spoke again. “It must be strange for you, seeing Tiana, who looks exactly like you.” “There can only be one face like this in the world.” “So…” She placed a small, sharp fruit knife on the table between us. “Ruin your face.” For a second, the world stopped. I stumbled back, my mind blank. What… What did she mean? My father’s cold voice pulled me from my stupor. 4 “Willow? Did you hear your mother’s condition?” “Just do as she says. Even with a ruined face, you’ll still be our precious daughter.” So, that was it. This was the reason they had come. Ethan picked up the knife and pressed it into my hand. “Don’t hesitate. You love Mom and Dad, don’t you? You want to live with them again, right?” He looked away, mumbling, “If you do this, I’ll… I’ll admit you’re still my sister.” Ha. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it clearly. I looked at them—the family who had once adored me, now cornering me like a pack of wolves for a stranger. A wild, unhinged laugh tore from my throat. The cheap lipstick smeared with my tears, running down my cheeks in grotesque, crimson rivers, mocking my foolish hope. I turned away, wiping my eyes. “You don’t have to do this. I’m going to die soon. Then, there will only be one Tiana.” Their expressions instantly soured. Ethan was the first to explode. “Willow! What’s this about dying? Is this your excuse to get out of it? You think playing a corpse makes you an expert on death?” Even my quiet father couldn’t hold back his anger. “If you don’t want to do it, just say so! Stop playing these manipulative games! You’re a young woman. What kind of person talks about dying all the time?” “Fine! Let there be two identical faces in the world. We’ll just disown you!” At his words, Tiana burst into tears, as if she were the one being wronged. “It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have taken over her body. Daddy, Mommy, please don’t be angry!” “Let me be the one to do it! Let me ruin my face so there’s only one Willow!” She snatched the knife and raised it to her own cheek. But before the blade could touch her skin, Ethan lunged, grabbing the knife. Blood dripped from his hand. He threw the knife at my feet. “Tiana! You’re not the one in the wrong!” My mother rushed to Tiana’s side, fussing over her. “Oh, my darling girl, why would you do that? What if you had really hurt yourself?” I stood outside their circle of four, the villain in their story. Ethan glared at me, then suddenly lunged forward, snatching the fruit knife from the floor. He tackled me, and a searing line of fire ripped across my cheek. The fall sent a jolt of agony through my already ravaged body. The sharp, repeated agony of the knife on my face, combined with the deep, grinding pain in my bones, was more than I could bear. But I didn’t struggle. I didn’t reach for my pills. My mother stood by, directing him. “Ethan, a few more times. Make sure it’s completely unrecognizable. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Willow at home. After this, she won’t have to suffer another day.” He only stopped when my face was a bloody, unrecognizable mess. They all waited for me to get up, but I could only lie there, convulsing. They stared, their brows furrowed in confusion. Ethan finally nudged me with his foot. “Hey! Get up. You were always talking about Mom’s cooking. They brought ingredients to make you a meal at home.” Suddenly, there was a frantic banging on the door. After a few loud thumps, the door burst open, and Mrs. Gable rushed in. She saw me lying in a pool of my own blood, my body emaciated, and she let out a horrified shriek, her eyes wide with terror. “My God! What have you done?! The poor girl has bone cancer! She only has days to live! Couldn’t you just let her die in peace?!”

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Since kindergarten, Charles and I had never gone more than three days without seeing each other. But the moment our families started talking about our engagement, he vanished. For an entire year, he ghosted me. He blocked me on everything. His company security had a standing order: no solicitors, and absolutely no Arabella Fairchild. If I so much as appeared in his line of sight, he would turn on his heel and walk away. Eventually, even his friends couldn’t stand it anymore. One of them, Leo, arranged for me to see him. But when I arrived, Charles’s cold voice sliced through the crack in the private room door. “She’s just a little plaything who comes running whenever I snap my fingers.” “No ambition, no personality… Being engaged to her would be beneath me.” 1 My hand froze on the doorknob. I couldn’t bring myself to push it open. Leo, standing behind me, quickly covered my ears. “Bella, don’t listen to him. He’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s saying!” “I’ll go give him a piece of my mind!” He made a move to shove the door open, but I grabbed his sleeve and shook my head. All this time, all I’d wanted was an answer. Why was he so violently opposed to our engagement? He’d made it a public spectacle, the talk of our entire social circle. I had looked up to him as my protector, my big brother, for seventeen years. But he wasn’t my real brother. We both had to get married eventually. Why couldn’t it be me? Now, I finally had my answer. It wasn’t that I wasn’t good enough, or pretty enough. It was that he had only ever seen me as a pet. A little creature he’d raised from childhood. Something to amuse him? To pass the time? Or maybe just something pretty to have around. Leo dabbed at my tears with a handkerchief, muttering, “Damn it, Carter and the guys shouldn’t have… this was a terrible idea…” “It’s okay, Leo.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “Can you just take me home? I don’t want to see him anymore.” “Yeah, of course…” Just as we turned to leave, the door swung open from the inside. We froze, staring at Carter, who was standing there, equally surprised. He didn’t know what had just happened. He just grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. The whole point of this dinner was for them to convince Charles to make up with me. Carter sat me down in the chair directly across from Charles. “Come on, man,” Carter said. “Even if you’re fighting with your family, you can’t take it out on Bella.” “We’ve all known her since we were kids. Just talk to her. Don’t let your pride cause some stupid misunderstanding.” Charles hadn’t looked up once since I entered the room. But the veins on the back of the hand gripping his glass were stark and white. Leo followed me in, shaking his head and trying to signal to Carter to shut up. Before Leo could pull me away, Charles finally spoke. His voice was low and tight. “Arabella, why can’t you ever just listen?” “Didn’t I tell you we shouldn’t see each other until my grandfather and my parents change their minds?” “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?” I stared at my lap, the words lodged in my throat. The air in the room was thick with tension. The last time I’d seen him this angry was when one of his college friends—a guy he actually liked—had asked me out. Leo sighed and came over, gently stroking my hair. He then herded the other guys out of the room, leaving Charles and me alone. 2 Charles threw back a mouthful of whiskey, his frustration palpable. “Bella, can’t you have some self-respect?” “I told you, I’m not interested in you. I have never, not once, looked at you as a woman.” “Instead of clinging to me all the time, why don’t you do something to improve yourself?” “All you ever do is orbit around men…” “Are you that pathetic?” “When I take over the company for real, I’ll be traveling constantly for meetings. I can’t just drag you along with me everywhere.” I felt like I’d been plunged into an icy sea. A cold numbness spread through me, stealing the strength from my limbs, the words from my mouth. So this is how he saw me. After all these years. “So just be a good girl and stay away from me. The old man will probably give up on this engagement idea soon enough.” “I understand,” I whispered. “And you’ll stop bothering Leo and the others to track me down?” “I’ll stop.” A slideshow of my life flashed through my mind. I used to cherish those memories like precious jewels. Now, I saw how ridiculous I’d been. I had ignored how his patience with me had worn thinner and thinner since high school. I had ignored the undisguised disdain in his eyes when he looked at my clothes, my style. I had ignored the first thing he said when he found out his friend had asked me out: “Someone actually likes her?” … I lifted my head and looked at him, my gaze clear and steady. “Charles. Thank you for saving me when I was a little girl.” “I’ll learn my lesson now. I promise, I will never bother you again.” With that, I stood up and walked out, and I didn’t look back. 3 I flipped on the lights in the villa. As always, it was empty. Silent. My parents were perpetually away, and my grandfather lived a quiet life of self-cultivation in the mountains. Charles’s mom once told me that from the day I was born, I was raised by a single nanny. When I was three, the nanny went out for groceries and forgot to close the front door. I wandered out of the house and fell in the middle of the road. Charles, who was playing in his yard next door, heard my crying and carried me back to his house. For the next fifteen years, I grew up trailing behind him. I followed him to the same elementary school, the same middle school, even the same university. When I was bullied for being quiet and withdrawn, Charles was the one who stood up for me. He taught me how to protect myself. When I thought about it, Charles had been in my life more than my own parents. I depended on him too much. So when he first started avoiding me, I panicked. I searched for him everywhere, feeling like my entire world had become a terrifying, empty void. A year isn’t a long time. But it was harder than the fifteen years that came before it. I sat at my computer, staring blankly at the acceptance email for the foreign exchange program. My therapist said a change of scenery would help. New hobbies to distract me. I had wanted to tell Charles… A bitter laugh escaped me. He was probably dying for me to get as far away as possible. When I left, I only sent a text to my parents. Not that they would notice, anyway. … Landing in Italy, I fumbled my way through the paperwork and renting an apartment. It wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined. While waiting for the semester to start, I traveled, exploring nearby cities. Just as my therapist had said, getting away really did change my perspective. And my habits. After being pickpocketed three times and harassed more times than I could count, I decided to learn Krav Maga. There was no one to protect me here. I had to learn to protect myself. 4 Two months into the semester in Italy, I got a sudden call from Leo. “Bella! You went to Italy? Why didn’t you tell us? We only found out because we ran into one of your classmates.” “Yeah, I just wanted a change of scenery, clear my head. I’ll be back in a few months, don’t worry.” “So how are you doing? Is your place safe?” “Everything’s great. It’s perfectly safe.” “Good, good. Hey, maybe you should give your brother… uh, Charles… a call? He knows some people over there.” “No, that’s okay. I’m fine on my own. No need to bother anyone.” “Alright then. Well, if you need anything, call me or… uh… him.” Back in the Sterling Corporation office, Leo waited until he heard the click on the other end before hanging up. “She’s got some nerve,” Charles muttered, flicking a lighter open and closed, his face a dark thundercloud. “Dude, you were the one who told her to get lost,” Leo said, sprawling lazily on the sofa and glancing at a copy of Arabella’s exchange application. “Telling her to get lost doesn’t mean she can’t send a text or make a phone call.” “Oh, for God’s sake, Charles, check your own block list. You were the one who said you had to make it look convincing and blocked her on everything. How was she supposed to tell you?” “If I were her, I wouldn’t bother with you either,” Leo grumbled, rolling his eyes. He was Charles’s childhood friend and had watched Arabella grow up too. He knew, more or less, about the situation with her family. Parents who were never there, a kid who barely spoke to anyone but clung to Charles like a lifeline. But Charles didn’t have romantic feelings for her. Now that she was far away, he was clearly worried sick, but too damn proud to admit it. What a mess. Let them sort out their own drama, he thought. After Leo left, Charles rubbed his temples. There was a knot of irritation in his chest that he couldn’t loosen. It was even worse than the time he’d discovered her art studio was filled with dozens of portraits of him. The two family patriarchs were still pressuring them to get engaged. Bella was just a junior in college. A kid who’d never even been on a date. What did she know about any of this? Charles scrolled through his phone. After a long hesitation, he unblocked the contact labeled “Little Sister.” Then he buzzed his secretary, Lina. “Mr. Sterling, you wanted to see me.” “Bella went to Italy by herself.” A flicker of a triumphant smile crossed Lina’s lips before she quickly suppressed it. “That just proves that my ‘tough love’ approach worked,” she said smoothly. “Miss Fairchild has been without guidance her whole life. No one ever corrected her when she was wrong.” “She’s a junior in college and her world still revolves around you. What kind of future can she have like that?” “With girls like her, who have no sense of self, you have to use harsh words. Otherwise, she’ll never learn to stand on her own two feet.” Lina smiled sweetly. “Besides, her going abroad doesn’t necessarily mean she’s making progress. She could just be copying a scene from a romance novel, playing hard to get.” “I’m a woman, too. I know all about these little games.” “To cure her of this… dependency, you have to maintain your distance.” Charles looked thoughtful. “But she’s never been anywhere far on her own…” “Mr. Sterling, she’s a college junior. She’s not a child. I was younger than her when I went off to college in a strange city. It’s not that hard. Girls don’t need to be coddled so much.” On second thought, she had a point. Maybe Bella had just seen so few men in her life that she’d mistaken her sibling-like affection for him for romantic love. It was probably for the best to let her fend for herself for a while. He told Lina to cancel the plane ticket to Italy he had just booked and turned his attention back to his work. 5 Bang. Bang. Bang. “Perfetto!” I nodded to the instructor, set down the M1 rifle, and rubbed my wrists. My marksmanship was getting better. I packed up my things in silence, trying to clear my head. I had my combat class this afternoon and needed to get home early tonight. Otherwise, I’d run into that obnoxious neighbor again. Just as I reached the door, a tall Asian man walked toward me. I kept my head down, moving to the side to let him pass. But he stopped directly in front of me. “Excuse me, are you Miss Arabella Fairchild?” he asked in fluent, unaccented English. “Yes, and you are…?” I looked up, curious. The man before me was dressed in a bespoke suit, easily six-foot-three, and radiated an aura of command. But the moment our eyes met, that intimidating pressure vanished. His eyes were a deep, startling blue. “My name is Dominic Moretti. I’m a friend of Charles’s.” “Oh… hello.” “Charles told me you were studying here alone. He was worried, so he asked me to look out for you.” “The apartment you’re in isn’t the safest. I’ve arranged another place for you. Would you like to move?” “You can call him and confirm, if you like.” Dominic gestured for me to follow him, and we sat down at the café next door. He took out his phone and dialed. After a brief exchange, he handed the phone to me with a gentlemanly grace. “Bella.” “Hi.” “Dominic is from the Moretti family. We have some business dealings. He’ll arrange a place for you to stay. You can ask him for help with anything you need.” I took a steadying breath. Hearing that familiar voice felt like stepping back in time, to before he started avoiding me. Maybe it was the time, or the distance, or maybe the year of withdrawal had finally worked. I wasn’t as heartbroken as I thought I’d be. “Okay, I understand. Thank you.” There was a slight pause on the other end. “But don’t be a leech and latch onto him. Learn to be independent. Show some progress, you understand?” “I understand.” After hanging up, I returned the phone to Dominic with both hands. Then, I obediently followed him to his car. Since they were business partners, Charles must have already offered Dominic something in return for this favor. For my own safety in a foreign country, I wasn’t going to be stubborn. 6 In the car, Dominic made a call and arranged for someone to pack up my things. Then, he took me out for a proper Italian dinner. An hour later, the driver pulled the car through the gates of a sprawling estate. “Miss Fairchild, after you.” “Thank you, Mr. Moretti.” As I stepped out of the car, I saw a butler and several maids waiting for us. Dominic gestured for me to follow him inside. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Moretti. You were seven years old the last time I saw you, at the Sterling’s house.” I looked up at him, puzzled. “You and Charles were playing hide-and-seek. You ran right into my leg and fell down and started crying.” Dominic remembered it vividly. He’d been very struck by her. He and his father were visiting the Sterlings. The moment they walked in the door, a little white puffball had collided with him. Most kids that age would have wailed. But little Arabella just sat there on the floor, rubbing her nose, fat tears rolling silently down her cheeks. Before he could even say anything, the little puffball wiped her own tears, whispered to herself, “Bella’s okay, be good,” and then scrambled up and ran off. Combined with the file his assistant had given him this morning… She probably cried because no one was there to comfort her. Charles was just a nine-year-old kid himself, and the Sterlings were too busy to pay much attention to the neighbor’s child. At the time, Dominic had thought to himself, If no one wants this kid, I should just take her back with me. He never imagined that over a decade later, that childhood whim would actually come true. 7 We made our way to the second floor. At the top of the stairs, a door to the right was open. Inside, a man and two maids were unpacking my luggage. The man saw us and came out to greet us. “Mr. Moretti, Miss Fairchild.” “Sir, I thought we were taking her to the south-side flat. Why the change to your estate?” Hearing this, I looked at Dominic as well. The tall man rubbed his nose. “Oh, my cousin is coming to stay there for a while. I had to put Miss Fairchild here for the time being.” “Ah, I see.” … The days that followed were peaceful. Dominic even cleared out a space for a small art studio for me in the third-floor library. When I didn’t have class, I would paint. Dominic was often in the library as well, working. Sometimes he would sit beside me and watch, joking that he was collecting the early works of a future master. When he found out I was learning marksmanship and combat, he volunteered to be my coach. He noticed that my wardrobe consisted entirely of simple, athletic wear, and had a high-end designer send over a collection of perfectly coordinated outfits. He had excellent taste. I never knew I could look so beautiful. I thought my life would continue on this tranquil path. Until one day, I noticed a shift in the atmosphere of the estate. The butler knocked on my door. “Miss Fairchild, we will be conducting a deep cleaning of the estate. We’ll need you to stay at a hotel for a few days, perhaps a week.” “The driver and a maid will accompany you, so your daily routine will not be disturbed.” I traced the edge of the doorframe with my finger. After a moment’s hesitation, I couldn’t help but ask, “Will… Dominic be staying at the hotel too?” This feeling… My heart sank. It was horribly familiar. Was Dominic tired of me, too? After only three months? “Sir is… going on a business trip. He will come and pick you up personally when he returns.” I clenched my fists, forcing down the sour feeling rising in my throat. “Okay.” “When do we leave?” “Whenever you are ready.” I told him I’d just change my clothes and then closed the door. A bitter laugh escaped me. It’s fine. It’s not the first time. Thinking back on the last three months with Dominic, I sometimes felt a strange kinship with him, like I had met one of my own kind. His small, compulsive habits, the way he understood my paintings… Whatever. Maybe he really was just busy. I slung a backpack over my shoulder and went downstairs. The maids were almost all gone. Only the butler and the driver were waiting for me by the door. A ridiculous thought popped into my head. What if Dominic went bankrupt? I couldn’t help but find a sliver of dark humor in the thought, and then promptly choked on my own saliva. I motioned to the butler and hurried to the kitchen for a glass of water. I still didn’t know the estate very well; it wasn’t a castle, but it was far from small. After drinking the water, I passed by a room with the door slightly ajar. I heard the faint sound of shattering glass from inside. Didn’t they say everyone was gone? Maybe it was one of Dominic’s pets? A cat or a dog? It couldn’t be a person… Curiosity killed the cat. I went back to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and returned to the half-open door. I pushed it open. Behind the door was a staircase leading down. A basement? The lights along the stairs were on, and the walls were adorned with beautiful murals. Holding my phone in one hand and the knife in the other, I slowly descended. At the bottom was another, more ornate door. I thought about turning back. What if it was dangerous? But just as I was about to leave, I heard a familiar sound. It was just a muffled grunt, but I recognized it. It was Dominic’s voice. I turned back and pulled the door open. Slumped on the floor, amidst the shards of a broken wine bottle, was him. 8 Dominic was clutching a piece of glass in his right hand. His left hand was a bloody mess from where he’d been punching the wall. I hesitated, torn between running away and my stupid bleeding heart. I settled on a cowardly compromise: I stayed in the doorway and called his name. “Dominic? Are you okay?” His body went rigid, every muscle tensing. It was as if he was shocked to hear another person’s voice. He turned and looked at me. “Bella? How did you find this place…? Didn’t the butler take you away?” Dominic forced a smile, the same gentle smile he always wore, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I could see his left hand trembling. I debated for a few moments, regretting that I’d called out to him. “I’ll go now. I won’t disturb you. Just… make sure you take care of your hand.” I was about to close the door when I heard him whisper, a desperate plea: “Don’t go…” “What?” “I won’t hurt you. Don’t be afraid.” “I just… I had a nightmare. I can’t sleep. I’m scared.” “Bella, can you just… stay with me for a little while?”

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The day of my wedding, my brother ruined my dress. He stormed into the bridal suite and emptied a glass of red wine right down the front of it. “Chloe, are you sick?” he spat, his voice shaking with rage. “You know how Ava feels about Caleb. What is all this? This whole spectacle, just to rub it in her face?” My fiancé, Caleb, stood behind him, leaning against the doorframe, his face a mask of cold indifference. “I’ll give you two choices,” Caleb said, his voice low and steady. “One, you walk down that aisle in the stained dress and we get this over with.” He paused, letting the cruelty of it sink in. “Two, you go to Ava right now and apologize. You fix what you broke, you make her feel better. If you can manage that, I’ll tell everyone the wedding is postponed.” I didn’t choose either. I chose a third path. I walked out in that ruined gown, stood before our family and friends, and I called off the wedding. My brother, my fiancé, my sister… I was done. I wanted none of them. But later, long after I had left, I heard the stories. The heirs to Northwood’s two most powerful families had lost their minds. They were scouring the globe, trying to hire the world’s most brilliant designers, all for one impossible task: to repair a wedding dress stained with wine and memory. 1 When Ethan burst into the suite, I had just finished putting on the dress. It had been my mother’s final design, the one she poured the last of her strength into, a masterpiece I had treasured for a decade. I hadn’t even had a chance to see myself in the mirror before the man who shared my face kicked the door open. “Chloe, what is wrong with you?” he yelled. “I warned you! How many times did I tell you not to go through with this circus?” He stomped toward me, his face contorted. “Do you have any idea how much you’re hurting her? Ava’s been crying her eyes out all morning because of you. Is this what you wanted?” His words were a physical blow. The flicker of joy I’d felt seeing him, just for a second, died. Of course. It was always about Ava. The weight of the dress, the intricate beading and layers of silk, suddenly felt like a cage. It was my wedding day. A day for peace, for promises. Not for this. I took a shallow breath, forcing myself to stay calm. I wouldn’t trade insults with him, not today. “Ethan, can we please not fight?” I said, my voice quiet. “Not today. It’s my wedding day. I just want to be happy.” His face darkened. “Happy?” He took another step, invading my space. “Can you stop being so selfish for one second? It’s just a wedding. Is it more important than Ava’s feelings?” He was practically pleading, but there was an edge of accusation in his tone that made my skin crawl. “She is so fragile, Chloe. She’s heartbroken, but she still wanted to wish you and Caleb the best. All she asked—the only thing she asked—was for you to tone it down. A small family dinner would have been perfect. Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” His entitlement, his complete blindness to my own feelings, made my hands tremble. The carefully constructed calm shattered. “The person getting married is me,” I shot back, my voice rising. “What is so wrong with me wanting a real wedding? Who cares if Ava is sad? Why am I the one who always has to pay for her emotions?” “Don’t you talk about her like that!” he roared. “Ava is your sister! It’s your job to look out for her, to be the bigger person!” A hot, dizzying rage washed over me. “She is your sister, not mine! My mother only had one daughter!” “Shut up!” The cold liquid hit my face first, then cascaded down my hair, a river of dark red over the pure white silk of my dress. For a second, we both froze. The world went silent. Ethan looked down at the empty wine glass in his hand as if he’d never seen it before. The rational part of him seemed to flicker back to life, his hand starting to shake. “Chlo… Chloe, I didn’t—” He fumbled for a napkin on the vanity, scrambling to wipe my face, but I flinched away. I was numb. Like a ghost in my own body, I looked down at the ugly, dark stain blooming across the bodice of my mother’s last gift to me. Wine was still dripping from the ends of my hair. Ethan, probably realizing how pathetic this looked, tried again, pressing the napkin to my forehead. “Honestly, Ethan, why bother?” A new voice, laced with contempt, cut through the tension. Caleb was still in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a cruel smirk on his face. I saw then that he wasn’t even wearing his tuxedo. He had on a casual jacket over a white t-shirt. On the chest was a faded, hand-painted sun—Ava’s birthday gift to him last year. 2 He tilted his head, a soft, mocking laugh escaping his lips as he took in my ruined appearance. “You really thought you could pull this off, didn’t you, Chloe?” he said, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You thought charming my parents meant you could control my life? Dream on. You can play all the games you want, but you’ll never be half the woman Ava is.” The pure hatred in his eyes was almost comical. Our families had been planning this since we were kids. Not once, not a single time, had he ever said he didn’t want it. Even after he started orbiting Ava, treating her with a tenderness he never showed me, he never once mentioned breaking the engagement. The wedding had been his parents’ idea. They were tired of waiting. When Ava heard the news, she’d thrown a fit, refusing to eat. Ethan and Caleb had been beside themselves with worry, both of them ignoring my calls to comfort her. The last time I’d managed to get Caleb on the phone, I’d asked him straight out: “Caleb, do you even want to marry me?” There was a long silence. Then, in the background, I heard Ava’s tearful voice, small and wounded. “Caleb? Who is that? Is it… is it Chloe?” He’d finally snapped. “God, this is so annoying. It’s been decided, okay? What’s the point in asking? Just stop calling me!” His father had assured me everything was fine. He would handle the arrangements, and he would talk to Caleb. Looking at him now, I realized what “talking to Caleb” meant. His father must have laid into him, and this was his petty revenge. A dry laugh escaped my lips. I took the napkin from Ethan’s limp hand and calmly wiped the wine from my face. “Chloe! Chloe, is Caleb here yet? The coordinator needs you both for the processional… Oh my God.” My maid of honor, Maya, skidded to a halt in the doorway. Her eyes widened in disbelief, darting from my stained dress to the two men standing there like vultures. She understood instantly. “You bastards! Are you hurting her again?” She lunged for Caleb, nails out, but I caught her arm just in time. Maya’s dad was a senior VP at Caleb’s family company. It wasn’t worth it. Nothing about this was worth it. Caleb, however, seemed to misread the gesture. He saw me standing between him and Maya, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of confusion crossed his face. Then his expression hardened again, and his voice dropped. “I’ll give you two choices,” he repeated. “One, you wear the damn dress and we get this over with.” “Two, you go apologize to Ava. You fix this. If you do, I’ll postpone. I’ll even find someone to make you a new dress. Your call.” He said it was a choice, but his face was a taunt. He was daring me to fight, to scream, to make a scene. Tears of rage streamed down Maya’s face. She looked like she wanted to kill him. But me? I felt nothing. The anger had burned out, leaving behind an unnerving calm. I looked him straight in the eye. “No, thank you, Mr. Thorne. My mother—the world-renowned designer Elena Vance—made this dress for me before she died. I don’t think you can find anyone better than her.” Thud. Behind me, Ethan stumbled back into the vanity. I glanced over my shoulder and met his wide, shocked eyes. His lips trembled, but no words came out. He had forgotten. I turned back to Caleb. “So, your two choices? I don’t want either of them.” 3 I walked down the aisle alone, carrying my own bouquet. At the altar, only Caleb’s parents were waiting. My own parents were gone, lost years ago. Other than the brother who had just assaulted me, I had no blood relatives left in the world. Ignoring the gasps and confused whispers from the crowd, I calmly took the microphone from the officiant. “I’m so sorry you all have to see me like this,” I began, my voice clear and steady. “Please, forgive my appearance.” Caleb, finally realizing what was happening, rushed onto the stage and grabbed my arm. “Chloe, what are you doing?” “Exactly what you wanted,” I said, pulling my arm free. “As you can all see, my fiancé, Mr. Thorne, hasn’t even bothered to change.” I let my eyes sweep across the stunned faces in the audience. “He believes I schemed my way into this wedding. Well, as of right now, consider my scheming over. I am officially announcing that my engagement to Caleb Thorne is broken. From this moment on, we go our separate ways.” I dropped the microphone. The clatter echoed through the silent venue. I turned and walked off the stage, leaving Caleb standing there, a statue in a storm of chaos. At the back of the hall stood Ethan, his face pale, his eyes wide with a frantic, desperate energy. He reached out to stop me, but his hand froze in midair as his gaze fell on the deep, crimson stain on my dress. I didn’t pause for him. I didn’t pause for anyone. I tossed my bouquet aside and walked right past him, out the door where Maya was waiting, her car already running. “Chloe! Get in!” The moment the door slammed shut, I felt the tremors start in my hands. In the rearview mirror, I saw a face streaked with tears, my makeup a faint smudge beneath my eyes. Maya pressed a tissue into my hand, muttering a stream of curses against Caleb. “He used to be such a sweet kid. What happened to him?” she fumed. “He used to adore you! God, men are trash. They change their minds faster than they change their clothes.” Her voice softened as she saw me press the tissue to my face, my shoulders shaking silently. “Chloe…” “I’m okay, Maya. Really,” I whispered. “I just… I miss my mom.” The car fell silent. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the familiar scenery blur past. Everything had changed, and I was the only one foolish enough to stand still, waiting for a past that was never coming back. It wasn’t always like this. Ethan and Caleb… they were good to me, once. They really were. My mother was a world-famous wedding gown designer. She always said she would create a one-of-a-kind dress for me, that she would watch me with her own eyes as I wore her love and blessings to marry the man I loved. The year our families decided Caleb and I would one day marry, he had come to me, his cheeks flushed red, and taken my hand. Ethan had immediately shoved him away. “Hey! The deal was for when you’re grown-ups, not now!” The adults had laughed. I had buried my face in my mother’s dress, shy and giddy, as she stroked my hair. Back then, my mother hadn’t been diagnosed with stomach cancer yet. Back then, there was no sister named Ava in our house. Everyone I loved was right there, with me. 4 My mother passed away when I was twelve. She’d spent her final months working on my dress, constantly guessing at how I would grow, re-stitching seams, and finally, in a concession to the future she wouldn’t see, adding adjustable closures to the waist and bust. It was the last gift she ever gave me. And I almost lost it. The same year my mother died, my father brought a little girl home. Her name was Ava. He said she was the daughter of an old army buddy who had died, a man who had made my father promise to care for her. “Ethan, Chloe,” he’d announced, “this is your new little sister. I expect you to make her feel welcome.” I tried. But it seemed Ava had other plans. I had never met a child like her. One second, she would be hissing at me, trying to snatch a doll from my hands, and the next, she would be running to Ethan and Caleb with tears streaming down her face. Is it human nature to automatically side with the one who seems weakest? I don’t know. All I know is that the two boys who had always been on my side slowly began to drift away. “Chloe, you can’t be like that! Ava’s lost her parents. Have some compassion!” “She’s right, Chloe. You need to share. You have a brother, and you have me. Ava has nobody.” I lost track of how many fights we had. They always ended the same way: with them telling me I wasn’t as kind, as gentle, as sweet as Ava. Eventually, I just stopped fighting. But my silence only made Ava bolder. She started going after the one thing that was sacred. She tried to take my mother’s dress. The day I found her dragging it down the stairs, its white silk hem collecting dust, something inside me snapped. For the first time, I hit her. When she came into my room later, a bright red handprint on her cheek and Ethan in tow, I was on my knees, gently cleaning the smudged hem with a damp cloth. “Sniffle… Ethan, please don’t be mad at Chloe,” Ava cried, hiding behind him. “It was my fault. I made her angry. I deserved it.” I’ll never forget the look in Ethan’s eyes. Disappointment. Confusion. And something else… disgust. “I never thought you could be so cruel, Chloe,” he said, his voice cold. “She’s never seen anything so beautiful before. She just wanted to look at it. How could you hurt her like that?” My hands were shaking with rage. I tried to explain, to defend myself, but our shouting brought my father into the room. He saw Ava’s tear-streaked face and immediately went to her side. “Ava, don’t cry,” he soothed. “Daddy will have someone make you an even more beautiful princess dress, okay?” After he had calmed her down, he turned and finally noticed me standing there. A flash of awkwardness crossed his face. “Ahem, well, both of you. Chloe will get one too, of course.” As I watched him and Ethan dabbing at Ava’s tears, a cold realization settled over me. I was the outsider in my own home. I didn’t ask for a new dress. I took my mother’s gown, locked it away in my closet, and understood, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that there was no one left in this world who truly loved me. “Chloe, we’re here. I’m coming in with you. I’m not letting that little snake get another shot at you.” 5 Maya’s eyes were as red as mine. I shook my head. “No.” Over the years, she had gotten into so much trouble defending me, falling for every one of Ava’s petty traps. Maya was all heart and no guile; Ava could set a snare at her feet and she’d walk right into it, every time. And Caleb, using his family’s influence, always sided with Ava, leaving Maya furious and in tears. I was leaving. I couldn’t let her burn any more bridges for my sake. “It’s okay, Maya. I just need to grab my passport and a few documents. I’ll be right back out.” I took a deep breath, gathered the heavy skirt of my dress, and walked into the house I grew up in. The first thing I saw was Ava. The same Ava who was supposedly “crying her eyes out” was lounging on the sofa, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, a smug smile on her face. “Well, look who it is. Back already?” she chirped. “I thought Caleb just left. That must have been the world’s fastest wedding.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh, dear. What happened to your dress? Caleb can be so mean. Even if he doesn’t like you, he shouldn’t have poured wine all over you. Especially since that was your mother’s final creation.” Her performance was flawless, but as I stood there, silent and unmoved, the smile faded from her eyes. I felt no anger. Just a deep, hollow sadness. Even she remembered whose dress this was. But my own brother… he had forgotten. Before she could speak again, I cut her off. “It wasn’t Caleb.” She froze. I held her gaze. “It wasn’t him. It was Ethan.” The color drained from her face. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. “You don’t have to fight anymore,” I said, my voice flat. “Ethan, Caleb… they’re all yours. I don’t want any of it.” I turned to go to my room, but she lunged, her fingers digging into my wrist. Something I said had hit a nerve. Her entire demeanor shifted, becoming manic and agitated. “‘Let me have them’?” she shrieked. “What do you mean, ‘let me’? You didn’t let me have anything! You lost! You couldn’t hold on to them!” Her face twisted into the familiar, venomous mask she only ever wore when we were alone. “I won! It was always me! I won!” she chanted, her eyes wild. “You’re insane, Ava.” I tried to pull away, her grip tightening painfully. “Let go of me.” “You lost, Chloe! You lost to me! Hahahaha!” She was completely unhinged. I finally shoved her away, not even that hard, just enough to break her grip. But she let out a piercing scream and threw herself backward, crashing into the tall curio cabinet against the wall. CRACK. The entire thing toppled over with a deafening crash. All the little treasures I had collected over the years—glass figures, painted boxes, delicate ornaments—shattered into a thousand pieces. I stared, stunned, at the glittering wreckage. My eyes fixed on a broken glass jar on the floor. I was so lost in the haze of it all that I didn’t see the figure rushing in from behind until a violent shove sent me stumbling forward. “Get away from her!” Caleb roared. He had come back. “I was actually coming back to apologize to you, and I find this? You can’t be left alone for five minutes without hurting her!” He had pushed me right into the pile of broken glass. A sharp, searing pain shot up from my ankle. 6 “Ah—” I gasped, the pain cutting through my shock. I tried to push myself up, but Caleb grabbed my shoulders, his grip like iron. “Why are you so cruel?” he raged, his face inches from mine. “You’ve been bullying her since the day she arrived! Always competing with her!” “For toys, for clothes, for a brother’s attention… you even had to take the person she loved!” “You already won, Chloe! You got everything you wanted! I agreed to marry you! Why can’t you just give her a break? Why can’t you cede an inch?!” Ava was on the floor in the only clear spot, a small patch of carpet, sobbing dramatically. Caleb shook me, his forehead vein throbbing, his voice cracking with a mixture of hatred and desperation. But I wasn’t looking at him. My gaze was fixed on the broken glass jar. It had split in half, revealing the contents scattered on the floor: dozens of small, folded pink stars. Paper stars. My breath hitched. Ignoring Caleb’s tirade, ignoring the throbbing pain in my ankle, I whispered, “It wasn’t me.” The pain was becoming overwhelming, a sharp counterpoint to the dull ache that had been building in my head all day. I could feel tears welling in my eyes, and I saw my own blurry reflection in Caleb’s amber irises. But I didn’t care. My hands, shaking, found the sleeves of his jacket and clenched them tight. Just like I had done ten years ago, I was trying to make him believe me. “Caleb, it wasn’t me. I didn’t hurt her,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. “She grabbed me first. I didn’t even push her that hard. I didn’t.” For a second, I thought I saw his expression soften. His frantic breathing seemed to even out. He even started to raise a hand, as if to wipe away my tears. But then Ava spoke from the floor, her voice choked with sobs. “Caleb, please don’t yell at Chloe. She’s right… she didn’t push me hard. It was my fault. I’m just so clumsy, I lost my balance and fell.” She sniffled loudly. “But… I think I twisted my ankle. It really hurts. Can you take me to the hospital?” Caleb hesitated. His eyes flickered between me and Ava, a silent war playing out on his face. In the end, he pulled his arm away from my grasp. “I’m taking Ava to the emergency room. We’ll talk when I get back.” He knelt down, scooping Ava into his arms. As he stood, he glanced back at me, his voice heavy with a weary sigh. “Your brother and my parents are handling the guests. They told everyone we had a fight and you said things you didn’t mean. Our wedding is… postponed.” He looked at me, a hint of pleading in his eyes. “I already agreed. We’ll have the wedding. Just stop fighting, okay? Wait here for me.” He kicked a shard of glass out of his path and walked past me, his shoe crushing one of the pink paper stars on the floor. In his arms, Ava shot me a look of pure, triumphant hatred. I felt nothing. The pain, the world, it all faded away. I sank to the floor, my movements slow and robotic, and picked up the star with the dirty footprint on it. I unfolded the tiny paper. Chloe don’t be scared. Your dad and Ethan like Ava more now, but I like you. I like you the most. Only you!! He had given it to me in class, two years after Ava had arrived. The other kids had teased us, guessing it was a love note. I’d opened it, read it, and burst into tears. Even now, after all this time, that childish promise felt more real, more precious, than any love poem. At fifteen, Caleb Vance had seen my fear and loneliness. With the fierce, clumsy sincerity of a teenage boy, he had tried to heal the wounds left by my mother’s death and my family’s betrayal. But years passed. And this is what we became. This.

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The day our company went public was the day the cops led me away in handcuffs for embezzlement. My wife’s old flame became the new CEO, and I was sentenced to three years in prison. My little sister, my only family, died of a broken heart trying to clear my name. After I got out, I heard a conversation on my car’s dashcam that shattered my world. It was my wife, Sophie, talking to her assistant. “It was you who embezzled the funds. You who framed Aiden and sent him to prison. Do you ever regret it?” “Not for a second,” Sophie’s voice was ice. “If Rick and I were never meant to be husband and wife, then the least I could do was give him the best of everything. A life free of worry. Think of it as my twenty-fifth birthday present to him.” “But the company was Aiden’s to begin with! He has nothing now.” “And you wanted me to just stand by and watch others tear Rick down?” 1 There was a pause. “As for Aiden,” she continued, “he grew up tough. What’s it to him to have a little less? Besides, I married him. I have the rest of my life to make it up to him.” “Then why not clear his name now? Let people know the truth.” “The last time he went out to buy me tampons, people pointed and called him a monster who abandoned his wife and drove his sister to her grave. He was shaking so hard he pissed himself in public.” “He was brutalized in prison. His right hand is permanently damaged, and he has severe depression. If you told the truth, it might give him some peace.” Sophie’s sudden shout made even me, just listening to the recording, jump. “Never! Everyone in Northwood City knows Aiden is a prodigy on Wall Street. If he walked out of there clean, where would that leave Rick? Absolutely not. My Rick has to be number one. No one will ever drag him down.” “So you’d rather let your own husband live in darkness? Let him hurt himself day after day with no one to comfort him? Have you forgotten his sister, her face pale as she knelt and begged you?” “Aren’t you afraid that if Aiden finds out the truth, he’ll destroy everything you’ve built?” A soft, chilling laugh. “He won’t. Aiden only has eyes for me. We’re very happy now.” The blood drained from my face. I couldn’t breathe. I saved the recording. I thought Sophie was the light of my life. I never imagined she was the source of all my suffering. She was the one who pushed me into the world of high finance, the one who gave me the resources to succeed. I thought she was my muse. But she only built me up so high to make the fall that much more devastating. If I hadn’t needed to replace the dashcam’s memory card, I might have spent the rest of my life living under the same roof as my nemesis. I stared at my numb right hand, a sickening suspicion coiling in my gut. I was so lost in the horror of it all that I didn’t even notice Sophie wrapping her arms around me from behind. “What’s wrong, Aiden?” Her voice was sweet, concerned. “Why are you crying again?” “Sophie,” I rasped, my voice cracking. “Why can’t I feel my hand?” My right hand was a mess of fresh, bloody cuts, but there was no sensation. She moved with practiced ease, retrieving the first-aid kit from behind the door. She gently disinfected the wounds, applied ointment, and bandaged them with care. “Oh, Aiden. Why do you keep hurting yourself?” “Every time I open my phone, I see them… calling me a monster who abandoned his family. I didn’t, Sophie. I swear I didn’t. Please… please, tell them the truth, won’t you?” Her hands paused for a fraction of a second. I saw it then—a flicker of disgust in her eyes before it was gone. “Then just turn off your phone. Don’t look,” she said, her tone hardening slightly. “I’ve told you so many times, I don’t care that you have a record. I don’t care that you’re hurt.” She softened her voice again, a masterclass in manipulation. “I’ve taken ninety-nine steps toward you, Aiden. Can’t you just take one toward me? When you hurt, I hurt.” She let out a choked sob, a performance worthy of an Oscar. “It’s Crystal’s memorial in a few days. I’ll take you to see her.” Even knowing the recording was real, hearing her say my sister’s name was like a knife twisting in my heart. I turned my head away, unable to look at her. “You should rest. I’ll go get your medication.” 2 After Sophie handed over the company, we moved into her family’s old estate, where I endured the daily scorn of her parents. They never missed an opportunity to berate me, lamenting how their brilliant daughter was now wasting her life washing and cooking for a “cripple.” Today was no different. Sophie’s father barged into the room, his eyes immediately fixing on my bandaged hand. “You useless cripple. How is it that something like this didn’t just finish you off?” I met his venomous gaze and spoke calmly. “I want to divorce Sophie. I don’t want to be a burden on her life anymore.” I added, “And I need the papers finalized as soon as possible.” The triumphant smirk on his face vanished, replaced by a scowl. “You dare make demands? If Sophie hadn’t begged us not to divorce you, do you think you’d still be living in this house? Back then, if she hadn’t threatened to kill herself just to marry you, someone like you wouldn’t even be fit to clean the toilets here.” He jabbed a fat finger at me. “A wreck like you should have been out of my daughter’s life long ago. You’ll get your divorce in thirty days. The moment you have it, you get the hell out of my house.” He stood there, his big belly practically hanging over my bed, ranting. I could only clench my fists under the covers. Bang. The door slammed shut. While I was in prison, her family had sent divorce papers several times. I never received them. I later heard it was because Sophie had threatened suicide, and I’d believed it was some grand, romantic gesture. How naive. The truth was, she was terrified that if we divorced, I’d get back on my feet and threaten Rick’s position. As I drifted into a medicated sleep, the familiar scent of herbs filled my senses. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, a soft voice urging me to wake up and take my medicine. It felt like my mother’s touch. But I couldn’t wake up. The next morning, I had just made it downstairs when I saw Rick sitting across from Sophie. She looked incredibly tense. I ignored them and headed for the kitchen to get some breakfast. “Aiden,” Rick suddenly stood up, his voice trembling as he reported to me like a subordinate. “I was just asking Sophie about some company matters.” He subtly moved to stand behind her, his eyes welling with nervous tears. He’d been terrified of me ever since he took over the company. “If… if you don’t want to see me, I can go.” I didn’t answer him, just poured myself a glass of water. Sophie, however, became animated. “It’s fine, Rick, Aiden doesn’t mind. Why don’t you stay with us for a few days? We can go over the other details properly.” Rick glanced at me nervously. “Would Aiden be okay with that?” The hand holding the glass trembled. A sharp pain lanced through my heart. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, my voice flat. “This is her family’s house. It’s not my place to say.” That’s right. This was their home. I was the outsider. Besides, I would be leaving soon anyway. Sophie flashed a satisfied smile. I didn’t look at her again and walked straight out the door. She blocked my path. “Where are you going?” “To see Crystal.” “Is that Aiden’s sister?” Rick’s voice piped up from behind her. “Sophie, I’d like to go too. We were classmates, after all.” He gave a small tug on Sophie’s sleeve. Without so much as a glance in my direction, she made the decision for me. I was shoved into the car, and I stopped fighting. I ignored the two of them. All I wanted was to see my sister. 3 I held the bouquet in my left hand, gently placing the flowers on Crystal’s gravestone. Suddenly, my face felt wet. Tears were streaming down my cheeks without me even realizing it. Crystal’s photo smiled back at me, her eyes seeming to look right through the picture and into my soul. “Crystal,” I whispered, my voice thick. “You have to believe me. Your brother has lived his life with a clear conscience.” Growing up, it was always just the two of us against the world. She was the only family I had left. And I wasn’t even there to see her one last time. “Let me tell you the truth, Aiden,” Rick’s voice, slick with venom, cut through my grief from behind. “You know, we were originally going to feed your sister’s body to the dogs.” My blood ran cold. “Do you know why? Because Sophie was afraid the police would trace it back to me. Before she died, your sister kept screaming ‘no’ under me. I’d already given her a double dose of the stuff… Still, there’s nothing quite like the first time, is there?” His words, each one a hammer blow, struck my mind. My scalp tingled, and a raw, agonizing pain tore through my chest. If it weren’t for you, if Sophie hadn’t found me, none of this would have happened to us. It was him. He killed Crystal. My reason evaporated. I spun around and threw a punch. But Sophie appeared out of nowhere, blocking my fist. She returned my punch with a vicious slap that echoed through the silent cemetery. “Aiden, how dare you hit him?” Her voice dripped with disappointment. “I don’t care that you’ve been to prison. I don’t care that you’re a cripple. But how can you resort to violence?” “In front of your sister’s grave? Do you want her to never rest in peace?” She kicked the flowers I had placed, stomping on them again and again. “Since prison clearly didn’t teach you anything, since you can’t get rid of these thuggish habits, maybe a little time in the basement will help you learn.” Suddenly, several large men in black suits appeared behind me. They blindfolded me and dragged me to the family estate’s basement, where they began to beat me mercilessly. The clubs they used were studded with thorns, each blow tearing into my flesh. My numb right hand was mangled again, a bloody mess. Blood poured from my left, staining the concrete floor a deep crimson. Through the haze of pain, I heard them talking. “Doesn’t the Missus love this cripple the most?” “Are you kidding? She only loves Mr. Rick! The way she looks at him… she wouldn’t let anyone else even touch him.” Love. I had stopped hoping for love long ago. So why did my heart still ache, as if it were being carved out with a dull knife? Rick came down to the basement. The timid, teary-eyed act was gone. He walked straight up to me. He stomped his foot down hard on my bleeding left hand. The barely-clotted wounds burst open, and I cried out in pain. “Aiden, you should know by now that Sophie has only ever loved me. So why aren’t you dead yet? After all this, how are you still alive?” He leaned in close, his voice a hateful whisper. “If it weren’t for you, Sophie and I would never have been apart for so long.” “I was this close to being crowned the Prince of Wall Street, to inheriting billions and marrying Sophie. And then you showed up. You ruined everything! Now I’m stuck with this shell of a company, and I can never set foot in my own family’s house again.” His face contorted with rage. “Tell me, why won’t you just die?” The blood from my left hand was turning black at the edges. My vision blurred. So that was it. Sophie only got close to me to tear me down, to clear the path for her one true love. I already knew, so why did the pain still feel so sharp, so real? “Rick! Rick…” Sophie’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs. Rick’s expression shifted instantly, a dark, cunning look I’d never seen before. He grabbed a knife from one of the goons, plunged it into his own thigh, and then draped my bloody right hand over the handle. “Sophie! Sophie… I’m down here!” he cried out, his voice filled with fake terror. Sophie practically flew down the stairs. She shoved my hand away and cradled him. “You really are hopeless,” she snarled at me, her eyes filled with pure hatred. “After all I’ve done for you. You’re nothing but a worthless animal.” A doctor rushed in and did a quick examination. “Ms. Sophie, he’s lost a lot of blood. He might need a transfusion, but getting a match from the blood bank will take at least an hour…” The doctor hadn’t even finished his sentence. Sophie’s eyes, cold and murderous, locked onto mine. There was no hesitation. “Use Aiden’s blood.” 4 They tied me to a makeshift operating table. A thick needle pierced the vein in my left arm. The pain from my battered body was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I don’t know how long I served as a human blood bag before I passed out. When I woke up, Sophie was feeding me medicine. My left arm was bandaged, but I couldn’t lift it. It felt just as dead as my right. “You’re awake? Here, drink this.” I turned my head away. Sensing my anger, she softened her tone. “Alright, making you give blood was my fault. I apologize. But you have to take your medicine, even if you’re angry. Your body can’t handle any more stress.” I remained still. With an exasperated sigh, she stood up, pinched my cheeks to force my mouth open, and poured the bitter liquid down my throat. As the herbal concoction hit my stomach, my consciousness began to fade again. “He drank it all.” That was her voice. “Good. Then we can begin.” Rick’s. “Your leg…” “It’s just a scratch. You know how strong I am. You’d better give me a baby this year.” Sophie’s playful protest faded away, replaced by the unmistakable sounds of their lovemaking. The sounds drifted into my ears, a final, cruel torture. I wanted to wake up, to scream, to demand the divorce they owed me. But my eyes wouldn’t open. I was startled awake by the shrill ringing of my phone. Unable to lift it with either hand, I managed to hit the speaker button with my knuckle. “I’ve got the divorce certificate. Now get the hell out of our lives.” It was Sophie’s father. It was the best news I’d heard in years. The pain in my body seemed to lessen at his words. “I’ll be gone immediately. I won’t trouble you again.” Finally. I was leaving. And I would take back everything I had lost. “Trouble who? Leaving where?” Sophie walked in, holding a glass of water. “Nothing. Just listening to an audiobook,” I lied. The suspicion in her eyes faded, replaced by something else. “Aiden, Rick wants to thank you for the blood. He’s invited you to a big dinner tomorrow to show his gratitude.” I looked at my lifeless left hand and managed a twisted smile. “Sure.” Sophie looked like she was about to jump for joy. “Great! I’ll go help him with the arrangements.” I dragged my broken body to find her father and collected the divorce certificate. Then, I immediately booked the next flight to Australia. I didn’t see Sophie for the rest of the afternoon, and the relief was intoxicating. I asked the butler to deliver the divorce certificate to the restaurant where they were having their “thank you” dinner. Then I took a cab and left the city behind. I had no luggage. There was nothing from that life I wanted to take with me. Nothing except my sister, and I didn’t have the power to do that yet. “Crystal,” I vowed, watching Northwood City shrink below me. “Don’t worry. Your brother will get justice for you, even if it’s the last thing I do.” A sense of euphoria washed over me as the city disappeared. It was over. I was heading toward a new life, one that belonged only to me.

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His ex-wife and daughter were back from Europe. And just like that, our marriage was no longer a private affair. It wasn’t until I saw the photos that I truly understood. The pictures splashed across Page Six: Michael Ashford—a man so disciplined he scheduled his own spontaneity—stuffed into a fuzzy, bright blue cartoon character costume, smiling for a selfie with his ex and their child at the Central Park Zoo’s family day. That’s when the realization hit me, cold and sharp. I had never seen that version of him. The version of Michael Ashford in love. But I am Audrey Rhodes, the sole heir to the Rhodes Corporation. And I have never learned how to share. 1 The second the tabloid photos hit my phone, I was dialing my PR team to kill the story. But someone was faster. Within three minutes, the images were scrubbed from the internet. A complete digital blackout. I let out a dry, humorless laugh. That was Michael, all right. As the CEO of Ashford Holdings, the last thing he would tolerate was a scandal that could tarnish our merger—the very union our marriage represented. Fifteen minutes later, the low hum of a town car announced his arrival. A wave of bright, cheerful laughter drifted from the driveway. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in the foyer, a silent observer. I watched Michael—a man known for his calculated composure and ruthless boardroom tactics—gently holding a little girl’s hand. His face was softened in a way I’d rarely witnessed. I knew about the ex-wife, Clara. I knew about their daughter. He had never tried to hide them. “Michael, are you sure this is a good idea?” Clara’s voice was laced with a practiced hesitancy as she held the little girl’s other hand. “As Michael Ashford’s legal wife, I understand that I have a role in raising his daughter,” I said, my voice cutting through the evening air. I stepped into the doorway, my expression a mask of cool indifference. “That does not, however, grant you an invitation to forget your place.” Clara’s face flushed with embarrassment. She lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry. It’s just… today was the Children’s Festival, and Lily really wanted to…” The little girl, Lily, suddenly let go of her father’s hand and charged at me, kicking my shin with a surprising amount of force. Her voice was thick with tears. “You’re the mean lady who stole my daddy!” A sharp pain shot up my leg. I winced, but I couldn’t bring myself to scold a three-year-old. “Lily,” Michael’s voice was firm but held no trace of impatience. “That’s not polite.” I stood there, a perfect stranger on the other side of their perfect family portrait. The absurdity of my situation was almost comical. “Michael, you and I both know this marriage is more than just you and me,” I said, pulling my composure back around me like a shield. “It’s Ashford and Rhodes.” Clara saw her opening. “Mrs. Ashford, we were just—” “I am speaking to my husband,” I said, my gaze flicking to her with a clear warning. “When did I ask for your opinion?” Michael sighed, scooping his startled daughter into his arms. “Audrey, it was just a family day at the zoo. I’ve already handled the press. There will be no fallout.” His voice, a low, magnetic baritone, was as cool as ever. My heart clenched. A bitter, mocking taste filled my mouth. No fallout. So that’s what I was. My feelings, my humiliation… they were just variables in his risk assessment. The ones that required the least consideration. I saw the flicker of triumph in Clara’s eyes. I narrowed mine. “Audrey, Lily will be staying the night. Have the housekeeper prepare one of the guest rooms.” “And her?” I asked, my voice flat, my gaze fixed on the woman at his side. Michael paused for a beat. “She can stay in the adjacent room. Just for tonight.” I nodded. My upbringing had instilled in me a deep aversion to making a scene. That evening, the sound of laughter and games echoed from the guest wing below. Meanwhile, I, the lady of the house, lay wide awake in the cavernous master suite, the bed feeling colder and emptier than ever. Around midnight, a restless energy in my chest forced me downstairs for a glass of ice water. “Mrs. Ashford.” Clara’s voice emerged from the shadows of the living room, dripping with newfound confidence. “Lily is Michael’s flesh and blood. As long as she exists, he and I can never be truly disconnected.” I calmly set my glass down on the marble countertop and turned to face her, my height giving me a slight but satisfying advantage. “And?” Her composure flickered. She took a small step back. “And… you should give him back to me. We only broke up because I was young and foolish. It was never because we didn’t love each other.” A short, sharp laugh escaped my lips. “Love?” I twisted the large emerald on my finger, the Ashford family heirloom. “For people like us, ‘love’ is the most irrelevant commodity there is.” The contempt in my voice made her flinch, her breath catching in her throat. I gave a small, dismissive smile and turned to leave. “Audrey!” Clara’s voice was sharp now. She closed the distance between us, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Does it not bother you at all? Knowing that he and I… that we could have…” She pulled down the collar of her silk pajama top. There, against the pale skin of her collarbone, was a collection of angry, purple marks. My fingers, hanging by my side, curled into a tight fist. But my face remained a mask of serene indifference. “Carnal novelty,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “has a notoriously short shelf life.” I left her standing there, her face a burning red, choking on her own impotent rage. Back in my room, my hand went to the emerald ring, the symbol of my status as the Ashford matriarch. A wave of despair washed over me. He was Michael Ashford. A man of his caliber, his presence… after three years of sharing a life, a bed, it was inevitable that I would develop feelings. But affection is built up over time. And so is the lack of it. Three strikes, Michael, I thought. That’s the rule. Don’t make me call strike three. 2 The next morning, the door to the master suite opened. Michael stood there, with faint, bruised-looking smudges under his eyes. He must have been up half the night entertaining them. A familiar tightness constricted my chest. Michael was a man of almost pathological self-discipline. For years, even the most intense moments of passion between us, the ones that left a flush on his high cheekbones, were never enough to disrupt his rigid sleep schedule. “Do you like children?” I asked, getting out of bed. I took his tie from the valet stand and began to knot it with practiced precision. He looked down at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “They’re fine.” “Let’s have one,” I said. Michael stared at me, his expression unreadable. But he nodded. “Alright.” I knew he wouldn’t refuse. It was a logical, strategic move for our dynasty. Downstairs in the dining room, Clara was holding Lily in her lap. The moment the little girl saw her father, she scrambled down and ran to him, sobbing. As she passed me, she grabbed a piece of still-scalding French toast from my plate and threw it at my silk blouse. “I hate you! You’re a mean lady! Why are you in my daddy’s house?” The sticky heat seeped through the fabric. I frowned, looking directly at Clara. “Control your child. She has no manners—” “Audrey,” Michael’s voice cut in, sharp and cold. “That’s enough. She’s just a child. Clara has been raising her alone for years. I’m the one who owes them.” The words caught in my throat. I felt a dizzying sense of displacement. In three years of marriage, he had never, not once, taken that tone with me. “That’s between you and her,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even, but the anger was already boiling over. “She’s a child, which is precisely why she needs to be taught. What will people say? That Michael Ashford’s daughter is some kind of feral little—” “Audrey Rhodes!” Michael’s warning, laced with an icy fury I had never heard before, snapped me back to reality. I took a deep breath, realizing I shouldn’t have directed my anger at a child. But the man standing before me was a stranger. His eyes were filled with a cold rage. “When Lily was born, Clara was my wife. The woman I married in a church, before God and everyone. You will choose your words more carefully.” With that, he lifted Lily into his arms and turned to leave. Clara rushed to his side, tucking her arm into his. He didn’t pull away. Just before they walked out the door, Clara glanced back over her shoulder. Her smile was pure, unadulterated triumph. I told you, her eyes screamed. He still loves me. The house fell silent. The housekeeper, ever discreet, began clearing the guest rooms, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. I sank onto the sofa in the foyer, my breath coming in ragged, angry gasps. That’s strike two, Michael. Three years ago, after a fundraising gala, Michael and I had both ended up in the wrong hotel suite. Two powerful people, fueled by too much champagne and the magnetic pull of ambition, lost control in the dark. When we woke up, despite our extreme caution, a photographer had caught us leaving the room together. To quell the impending scandal, the Rhodes and Ashford families proposed a merger of the most permanent kind. Before we were married, he told me everything. About his ex-wife, about his daughter. I hadn’t cared. I wasn’t in love with him. After the wedding, he gave me everything a Mrs. Ashford was due: respect, status, a life of impeccable luxury. “Audrey,” he’d once said, his voice low and serious, “you are my wife. You will always be my wife.” But looking back now, it was clear. I was the only one who had ever been truly invested in this marriage. … The following week was the annual Ashford Holdings corporate gala. As the wife of the CEO, my attendance was non-negotiable. Michael drove us, the silence in the car thick and heavy. “Audrey,” he said finally, breaking the tension. “You don’t need to worry. I married you. The title of Mrs. Ashford will always be yours.” I stared out the window at the blur of city lights, saying nothing. My silence was shattered the moment we stepped into the ballroom. A familiar figure approached us. “Mr. Ashford.” Clara was wearing a black evening gown with a neckline that plunged daringly low. Michael gave a curt nod. Only then did she turn to me, her expression a perfect picture of timid deference. “Mrs. Ashford.” I took a slow, deep breath, turning my gaze to my husband. “What is she doing here?” “Clara just moved back to the city. She needed a job. I gave her a sinecure in the marketing department,” he said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. My hands, hidden in the folds of my gown, began to tremble. I stared at him, my voice a furious whisper. “You put your ex-wife on your payroll? What am I, Michael? A decoration?” He blinked, as if the thought had genuinely never occurred to him. But I knew better. Michael Ashford was no fool. This wasn’t an oversight. He was indulging her. I would not lose my composure in a room full of sharks. I took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, downed it in one go, and pasted a polished, corporate smile on my face. Hooking my arm through Michael’s, I began to navigate the crowd. An hour later, my head felt thick and heavy. I excused myself to the terrace for some fresh air. I found a wrought-iron bench near the gardens, the cool night air a welcome shock to my system. “Hiding out here all alone? Where’s Ashford?” A warm cashmere jacket was draped over my shoulders, smelling of sandalwood and pine. I turned. Carter Shaw. The formidable head of Shaw Industries. “Thank you,” I said, pulling the jacket tighter. The warmth was unexpectedly comforting. He sat down beside me. “His ex is back. What’s your play?” he asked, his voice low. He looked at me, his gaze unnervingly direct. “If you want her gone, Audrey, I’ll be your blade.” The casual way he spoke of making a person disappear, as if discussing a line item on a budget, didn’t faze me. I turned my head slightly. “Not necessary. I don’t want you to dirty your hands.” Suddenly, he leaned in, invading my space, his face so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. “Forget him. What about me? You know I’ve been a perfect gentleman for you all these years.” His intensity was overwhelming. For a moment, I was at a loss for words. “Carter,” I said softly. “Not right now.” I stood up, leaving him there with a shadow of disappointment in his eyes, and walked back to our car. The gala ended soon after. From the moment Michael got behind the wheel, his eyes were on me. “You and Carter Shaw seem close.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “We grew up together, more or less. Our families—” Before I could finish, Michael, the man who lived by rules and restraint, unbuckled his seatbelt. He lunged across the center console, his body pressing me into the leather seat. A kiss, tasting of whiskey and desperation, crushed against my lips. It was fierce, possessive. After a long moment, he pulled back, his dark eyes, usually so calm, now wild with an emotion I couldn’t place. “Audrey,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “You’re mine.” 3 This sudden, raw display of possession didn’t flatter me. It infuriated me. He could carry on a tangled affair with his past, but I was expected to remain a pristine, untouched asset? “Let go of me,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. Michael didn’t move. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Are you jealous?” I turned my head away, the petulant gesture feeling childish even to me. “Fire her.” The smile vanished. He pulled back, settling into his seat, the cool, familiar mask of Michael Ashford sliding back into place. “Audrey,” he said, removing his gold-rimmed glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh. “I’ve told you. You will always be Mrs. Ashford.” “And she still needs to support Lily,” he added. I turned to face him fully, my brow furrowed. “I never said you couldn’t send her money.” He sighed again. “But Lily needs her father. And you know your family—and mine—would never agree to me bringing her to live with us.” I stared at him, a knot of disbelief and hurt tightening in my stomach. “Are you forcing me to choose?” Michael reached across the console, his warm, dry hand covering my own chilled fingers. “I’m just asking you not to make this difficult for her. I promise you, Audrey, your position is secure.” His words, meant to reassure, felt like a slap. He was defending her. And all he thought I cared about was the damned title. The sadness of it was overwhelming. Perhaps, in his eyes, our marriage had never been about anything more than a title. Just then, my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. Mrs. Ashford, Michael had a bit too much to drink tonight. Just a reminder, he’s allergic to honey. Please don’t use it to sober him up. Attached was a photo. Michael, leaning against a wall in a dimly lit corner of the gala, his tie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. I laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. I tossed the phone into his lap. “What is this? Some kind of sick power play?” He frowned, looking at the screen. He sighed, but his voice was calm. “She’s my executive assistant now. This is part of her job.” That was it. The last thread of my control snapped. “Do I need an outsider to remind me of my own husband’s habits? Who the hell does she think she is?” “Audrey,” Michael’s voice was sharp with impatience. He rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. “You’re losing your composure. Clara is the mother of my child. The least you can do is show her a basic level of respect.” I thought I had misheard him. A cold, derisive laugh escaped me. “Respect?” I spat the word out. “She’s earned nothing of the sort.” This time, the look in his eyes stopped me cold. “Audrey Rhodes, watch your tone.” The wind whipping through the open window felt like a thousand tiny needles against my face. It was strong enough to steal the breath from my lungs, and in that moment, it felt like it took my pride with it. I turned to him, my voice cracking almost imperceptibly. “Michael, I am your wife.” “Why do you keep making exceptions for her? Why do you break your own rules for her, again and again?” He just frowned, his expression one of genuine confusion. “The first year we were married, I had a fever of 103. You said you had an important meeting the next day and couldn’t afford to lose sleep. You left me alone in the emergency room. But you can stay up all night playing games with them?” “You knew having her around would upset me, yet you brought her into the company, made her your assistant. You couldn’t just wire her the money?” “And that night, Michael. What happened that night? Did those marks just appear on her neck by magic?” A thousand other small betrayals, like scattered grains of rice, were lodged in my heart. Picking them up one by one was exhausting. The wind stung my eyes, making them water. The pain was immense, yet impossible to articulate. Michael’s composure finally broke. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He looked completely lost. “I…” He wanted to explain, but he had no words. We arrived home. He parked the car, but neither of us moved. “Leaving you at the hospital was wrong,” he finally said, his voice strained. “But I sent my assistant to stay with you, didn’t I?” He sounded almost frantic. “I just wanted to compensate Clara for taking care of Lily all these years.” “And I swear to you,” he said, turning to cup my face in his hands, “nothing happened between us.” “I’m sorry, I—” His words were cut off by a child’s cry from outside the car. “Daddy! Come play with Lily!” 4 I snapped back to reality, pushing his hands away from my face. We got out of the car. Clara stood there, holding Lily’s hand, her expression timid. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Ashford. Lily just missed her daddy so much. I couldn’t stop her.” Michael glanced at my rigid, icy expression. He took Lily inside, handed her off to the housekeeper, and then returned to the living room where Clara and I stood in silence. He sat on the sofa, his face a mask of cold fury. “Explain,” he said, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. The sound made Clara jump. Seeing the thunderous look on his face, she seemed genuinely flustered. “What do you want me to explain?” “Sending these manipulative texts to Audrey. What was your goal?” Tears instantly welled in Clara’s eyes. Her voice trembled. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking! I just remembered that both you and Lily are allergic to honey, and I just… I acted on instinct.” She turned to me, wringing her hands, a picture of remorse. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Ashford. I overstepped.” I rose from my chair and walked over to her. I tipped her chin up with my finger, my touch conveying utter disdain. “In what capacity, exactly, did you feel the need to ‘remind’ me of anything?” My eyes were like chips of ice. I released her chin as if touching something unclean. “Lose the act. I’ve seen countless women try to claw their way into the Ashford family. Trust me, you don’t want to know what happened to them.” Clara’s face went white, the humiliation of my gesture stinging her more than a slap. Michael, hearing the explanation about the allergy, seemed to relax. The tense line of his jaw softened. “That’s enough. Take Lily and go home. And from now on, you are not to come here without my explicit permission.” He positioned himself slightly between us, breaking our standoff. Clara’s tears fell freely now. With a choked sob, she collected her daughter and left. But the next evening, my world tilted on its axis. A frantic call from Michael summoned me to the hospital. Lily was in the ICU. I stood there, stunned into silence. “Audrey!” Clara, her face a mess of tears and rage, shoved me hard. “I took her away! I left! Why did you have to hire someone to run her down? She’s only three years old!” I stumbled, catching my balance, my voice sharp with disbelief. “Are you insane? You can’t just invent accusations out of thin air!” Michael, his face dark with a terrifying mix of grief and suspicion, stepped forward. He pushed a tablet into my hands. It was a video of a police interrogation. “It was Audrey Rhodes,” a grimy-looking man said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “She gave me a hundred thousand dollars to hit the kid with my car. Said she’d give me another hundred when it was done.” I stared at the screen, my heart hammering against my ribs. “He’s lying! This is a setup!” I looked at Michael, my voice pleading. “You don’t actually believe I did this, do you?” He closed his eyes, his voice heavy with defeat. “I don’t want to. But the man is the distant nephew of a Rhodes family chauffeur, Audrey. Are you telling me that’s a coincidence?” His roar of accusation echoed in the sterile hallway. And in that moment, something inside me broke. It was a clean, quiet snap. Some people, I realized, were simply not worth the fight. “That’s strike three, Michael.” He looked at me, confused. I met his gaze, all the pain and hurt in my own eyes now gone, replaced by a chilling clarity. “Believe whatever you want. But know this: I, Audrey Rhodes, do not resort to such pathetic, low-life tactics.” I then turned to the sobbing Clara. “You’re just like Medea, aren’t you? Willing to sacrifice your own child to destroy the queen. You’re a monster.” I took a deep breath, refusing to show any weakness. Then I turned and walked away. In the car, I made two calls. The first was to my lawyer. “Prepare the divorce papers and a full asset division. I want them on my desk by tomorrow.” The second was to my executive assistant at the Rhodes Corporation. “Starting in three days, I want a full-scale corporate assault on Ashford Holdings. Liquidate everything. I want them bleeding.” I looked up at the dark, bruised sky. My heart was cold. “Michael Ashford,” I whispered to the empty car. “Betraying me comes with a price.”

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My terminally ill boyfriend was the illegitimate son of a wealthy New York dynasty. And I was just a girl who ran a grill at a street food market. Joseph Mendel was frail and sickly, and while I supported him, I always gave him the very best of everything I could afford. But when his family’s twelve Rolls-Royces pulled up to our rundown apartment building to welcome him back into the fold, he abandoned me and took my roommate instead. When a reporter asked him, “Who is this young lady to you?” Joseph replied, “Just the maid who’s been taking care of me.” Later, he became the revered Mr. Mendel, a titan of New York finance, and I turned around and married his arch-rival. On my wedding night, Joseph had me abducted. “Why would you marry that scar-faced monster?” he demanded. “Because he never treated me like a maid.” Joseph sneered. “Is that all you aspire to be?” I nodded. “Yes. That’s all.” 1 The day the Mendel family came for Joseph, twelve Rolls-Royces lined the narrow street to my building. Reporters armed with cameras and microphones had formed a media circus, blocking the entire entrance. I had to abandon my food cart after my shift and walk the rest of the way. My neighbor, Vanessa, saw me and grabbed my arm excitedly. “Stella, you’ve hit the jackpot! Your Joseph is actually a Mendel heir!” “The old man sent a whole fleet to bring him home! You’re going to be living in luxury!” As I stood there, stunned, Joseph emerged from the building, flanked by a crowd of men in dark suits. I had never seen him like this. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that made him look tall and commanding, exuding an air of aristocratic privilege. He looked like a CEO straight out of a romance novel. And walking beside him was my roommate, Sienna. When Joseph’s eyes met mine, the warmth I once knew was gone, replaced by the cool disdain of a superior. A sharp-eyed reporter pointed his microphone at him. “Mr. Mendel, can you tell us your relationship with this woman?” Joseph’s gaze slid off me, his voice flat and detached. “Just the maid who’s been taking care of me.” A collective gasp rippled through my neighbors. They had all seen me buying things for him, helping him with his physical therapy. They all knew he was my boyfriend. In an instant, every eye was on me, a mixture of pity and scorn. I froze. I looked down at my ten-dollar t-shirt, my twenty-dollar canvas shoes, and felt the bone-deep weariness of my life settle over me. I supposed I did look like a maid. But I had cared for him for five years. Even if he’d just called me his neighbor, I wouldn’t have been so utterly humiliated. He walked toward the lead car. After opening the door for Sienna, he paused as if remembering something and turned back to me. “You took care of me for a long time. Is there anything you want? I can grant you a reasonable request.” Vanessa nudged me. “Quick! This is your chance! Tell him to take you with him!” But I didn’t move. I numbly held up the paper bag from the pharmacy in my hand. “Since you’re not dying, how about you settle the bill for all the medication I bought you over the years? Oh, and living expenses.” “The total is… ninety-eight thousand, six hundred dollars.” I pulled out my phone, my fingers flying across the calculator as I announced the number. A wave of snickers went through the crowd. They were mocking my shortsightedness. With Joseph’s new status, what was a mere hundred thousand dollars? I could have asked for millions, and he would have given it. Joseph frowned, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, but he quickly instructed his assistant to write me a check. I glanced at it. One hundred thousand dollars. He’d even thrown in a little extra. Sienna, now clinging to his arm, looked at me with a triumphant smirk. “Stella, Joseph is being very generous. But from now on, you two belong to different worlds. I hope you won’t be saying anything… inappropriate about him to anyone.” Joseph’s gaze was hard. “I don’t want anyone to know you and I were ever connected.” I understood. He was ashamed of me. He was afraid I’d tell the media he was my boyfriend. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t. Having a heartless, backstabbing boyfriend isn’t exactly something to brag about. Joseph left. The crowd dispersed. Only Vanessa remained, fuming on my behalf. “Stella, are you an idiot? What are you going to do with a hundred grand? You can’t even buy a decent down payment with that in this city!” My face was pale. “But that’s all he owed me…” Loving him was my choice. Taking care of him was my choice. I had loved the wrong person. I would accept the loss. Vanessa sighed, poking me in the forehead and calling me a fool. Back in the apartment, all of Joseph’s things were gone. So were Sienna’s. The place was a wreck, as if a tornado had torn through it. After working all night at the cart, then making an early morning run to the pharmacy for Joseph’s “medication,” I was exhausted. I collapsed onto the sofa, unable to move. “Meow…” Fatty, my rescue cat, nudged my leg and looked up at me with his big, round eyes. I dragged myself up to feed him, then started cleaning the apartment. That evening, I went back to work as usual. Without Joseph, my expenses were minimal. A hundred thousand dollars could last me for years. But I wanted to buy a home, a place of my own. My grill was the most popular spot in the food truck alley outside the university. The college kids loved my food. That night, a man in an impeccable suit approached my cart. “Five lamb skewers, ten spicy chicken wings…” I was used to serving bright-faced college students. It was the first time a man who so clearly radiated wealth had come to my humble cart. I couldn’t help but stare. He was tall, at least six-foot-three, with a lean, powerful build. He was handsome, with a high-bridged nose and deep-set eyes that gave his face a striking, chiseled quality. A silver Cayenne was parked at the end of the alley, its lights on, a driver waiting inside. My romance-novel-addled brain immediately concocted a story: a powerful CEO buying a late-night snack for his young college student girlfriend. I grinned. “You got it! For here or to go?” I assumed it was to-go and grabbed a take-out container. “Here,” he said, and to my surprise, he found an empty plastic stool and sat down. He ordered over a hundred dollars’ worth of food. I grilled and served, my hands flying. By the time I was finished, I was slick with sweat, and he had devoured every last bite. “This is good,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “How are you with actual cooking?” I blinked, pointing to myself. “Me?” “I’m a decent cook. I went to culinary school before I started this cart.” The man immediately pulled a business card from his suit pocket and handed it to me. “Interested in being my private chef?” I looked at the card. Adrian Hunt, CEO, Hunt Dynamics. My gaze turned wary. “Mr. Hunt, you’re not trying to… you know… hire me, are you?” “Fifteen thousand a month.” “Of course, I know a man like you would never do such a thing! Fifteen thousand, you said? I can start tomorrow!” It wasn’t that I was weak. It was that the offer was too good to refuse. To buy a place in New York City on a food cart vendor’s income? I’d be working until I died. The next day, I went to the address on the card, a sprawling mansion in the suburbs. Adrian Hunt himself answered the door. He was in a gray sweatsuit, clearly just back from a run. He unlocked the wrought-iron gate and led me inside. He was all long legs and broad shoulders, and I had to jog to keep up. The estate was massive. It took us nearly ten minutes to walk from the gate to the main house. I scanned my surroundings, preparing myself for any… unwanted advances. Thump. I walked straight into his back. The impact made my nose throb and my eyes water. “Sorry, Mr. Hunt! I didn’t mean to!” He turned, a look of exasperation on his face. “Do you honestly think I’m going to do something to you?” I looked at him, my voice full of disappointment. “You’re not?” He let out a short, humorless laugh. He raised a hand as if to strike me, then stopped himself. “And stop calling me Mr. Hunt. Take a good look. Do you know who I am?” I squinted at his face. “Nope. Never seen you before.” “Tsk…” “Seriously. I’m a girl who grills meat for a living. How would I know someone like you? You must have me mistaken for someone else.” So that was it. The job was too good to be true. The powerful CEO had mistaken me for someone else. Adrian’s jaw clenched. A dangerous smile touched his lips. “Stella Lane. Say you don’t know me one more time. I dare you.” When a man like that gets angry, the air turns to ice. I shrank back, my eyes fixed on his handsome face. An image flashed in my mind: another face, years ago, ravaged by fire, covered in scars. If you were to remove those scars… The realization hit me like a physical blow. I knew who he was. I turned and ran. The next second, a hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me back. My back hit the wall, and Adrian’s face was inches from mine. He pinned my wrists above my head, his body caging me in. “Run, Stella. I’d love to see you try.” I couldn’t move. The difference in our strength was too great. Before Joseph, there had been someone else. The summer I was seventeen, a new student transferred to our class. His name was Leo Song, and his face was covered in burn scars. The other students were afraid of him. They ostracized him. No one would sit with him in the cafeteria. They called him “Scarface” behind his back. His deskmate demanded a new seat, saying that looking at Leo’s face gave her nightmares. The teacher, at a loss, asked if anyone would be willing to sit with him. His long fingers dug into the edge of his desk, betraying his anxiety. As the silence stretched, I slowly, hesitantly, raised my hand. The class erupted in laughter. “Let Stella sit with him, teach!” “The Trash Girl and Scarface. A perfect match!” Back then, my grandmother, who had adopted me, was still alive. She supported us by collecting recyclables. To help her, I would go through the school’s trash cans after class, collecting bottles. My classmates ostracized me too. They said I smelled. Since the beginning of high school, I had always sat alone. The teacher knew my situation and scolded them, but it was no use. They still called me “Trash Girl.” Now, ignoring their jeers, I clutched the hem of my shirt and asked Leo nervously, “Leo, would you… would you be okay with me being your deskmate?” I was afraid he would be disgusted by the way I smelled. But he nodded emphatically. “As long as you’re not scared of me, I’d love that.” We became friends. He was brilliant, always at the top of our class. He tutored me, and I brought him my grandmother’s homemade rice dumplings. When bullies from another school cornered him, I grabbed a baseball bat and fought them off. When I had no money for lunch, he shared his allowance with me. In our senior year, he asked me to be his girlfriend. He asked me to apply to the same Ivy League school as him. I said yes. But the night before the application deadline, I was working as a waitress at a five-star hotel. I saw Leo there with his family. And with them was a beautiful girl who sat next to him. As their parents went to the restroom, I overheard them talking about how the girl would be accompanying Leo abroad that summer for his reconstructive surgeries. And when they returned, they would be engaged. I felt a crushing wave of inferiority. I went home, changed my university application, and sent Leo a single text: I’ve fallen for someone else. We’re breaking up. Then, I blocked his number and all his social media accounts. No one knew where I went to college. And I never heard from Leo Song again. “If I hadn’t seen you in the background of that news report about Joseph Mendel, I still wouldn’t know you were back in New York,” Adrian said, his voice tight with anger. “The ‘someone else’… it was Joseph, wasn’t it?” I never thought he would remember the lie I told him all these years. I struggled against his grip. “It doesn’t matter who it was. I broke up with you, remember?” “Am I a dog you can just throw away?” he roared. Just then, the front door opened. A beautiful girl in a designer dress walked in. She looked like a princess. I recognized her. She was the girl from the hotel, all those years ago. The girl their parents wanted him to marry. So, he had a fiancée and he was still harassing me? Did everyone think I was a pushover? “Stella Lane?” the girl exclaimed, her face lighting up. “Adrian, you finally found her!” Adrian? What was their relationship? Adrian nodded, gesturing to the girl. “This is Clarissa Mendel. Joseph’s sister.” “And Stella,” he began, but Clarissa had already skipped over and linked her arm with mine. “I know! Adrian’s girlfriend!” I froze. He had told everyone I was his girlfriend? When I was with Joseph, he had been healthy. Then he was in a car accident. He became convinced that the matriarch of the Mendel family was trying to eliminate him, so he started faking his illness to appear non-threatening. I didn’t know. I saved every penny to pay for his check-ups, his medication. Thousands of dollars at a time. I felt that as his girlfriend, it was my responsibility to take care of him, no matter what. But it was all a lie. He was welcomed back into his family, and he told the world I was just his maid. A surge of emotion washed over me as I looked at Adrian. Had I misunderstood him all those years ago? Clarissa leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Adrian may like you, but I’m the one the Hunt family chose to be his fiancée. Take a look at yourself. Do you really think you’re good enough for him now? He’s not the ‘Scarface’ he used to be. But you’re still the girl who stinks of grilled meat.” I flinched and pulled my arm away. Clarissa immediately stumbled backward and fell to the floor, her eyes wide and innocent. “Stella, why did you push me?” My head snapped toward Adrian. This was it. The classic scene from a novel where the innocent heroine is framed by the scheming rival. But just as I braced myself for his anger, Adrian looked down at Clarissa with a complicated expression. “Do you think I’m blind?” he said, his voice flat. “Stella didn’t even touch you. What’s with the drama? I told you not to come here. Now you’re putting on a show in front of my girlfriend?” He took my hand and pulled me into the house, leaving a stunned Clarissa on the floor. The mansion was staffed with servants, but none of them gave me a second glance. Adrian poured me a glass of water himself and told me to sit. “Stella, tell me. That text you sent me all those years ago… it was a lie, wasn’t it? You weren’t in love with someone else.” Yes, and no. The text was a lie. But I did fall in love with someone else later. Joseph pursued me, but I cared for him for five years. There were feelings. I wouldn’t deny what I did, even if it turned out to be a mistake. Clarissa was Joseph’s half-sister. Adrian was not engaged to her. It was all just wishful thinking on their parents’ part. I ended up staying at the mansion as Adrian’s private chef. He gave me a room right next to his. I was a little suspicious. That night, I discovered that the bed in my room had no blankets. I went to find the housekeeper. “Everything for you is arranged by Mr. Hunt personally,” she said, her face impassive. “You’ll have to ask him.” I reluctantly knocked on Adrian’s door. “Come in.” I pushed the door open. He wasn’t in the bedroom, but I could hear the shower running. He was in the shower and he told me to come in? Just as I was about to leave, the bathroom door opened. Adrian walked out, a towel slung low on his hips, his upper body bare and glistening with water. I couldn’t help but stare. I wasn’t a pervert, but his physique was incredible. His chest was broad, his abs were sharply defined, and the lines of his hips tapered down in a way that was almost indecent. And to make matters worse, he was looking at me with a predatory, fox-like gaze. After years of being single, I was not equipped to handle this level of temptation. My nose started bleeding. Adrian was startled. He rushed over, tilted my chin up, and sat me down on the edge of his bed. He grabbed some tissues and gently plugged my nose. “You’re pathetic,” he said, a note of disgust in his voice. “Weren’t you living with Joseph for five years? You’ve never seen this before?” “He wouldn’t let me touch him,” I mumbled, humiliated. It was ironic. Joseph had pursued me, but he treated me like I had the plague. Especially after he got “sick.” No matter how well I treated him, he was always cold. But he was incredibly attentive to Sienna. Once, he kept texting me in the middle of the night, asking me to order him a specific brand of bubble tea. It was expensive. Later, I saw Sienna post a picture of the exact same drink on her social media. I realized he was ordering it for her. I was furious. I came home from work to find Sienna curled up against him on the sofa, both of them playing a video game. I pulled her away and confronted him. “Why do you flinch whenever I touch you, but you let her get so close? Who is your girlfriend, me or her?” Joseph covered his nose. “You come home smelling of grease and smoke every day. It’s disgusting.” “Stella, don’t misunderstand,” Sienna added sweetly. “Joseph and I are just friends. He thinks of me as one of the guys.” That morning, I took the longest shower of my life. I even considered quitting my job. But then Joseph texted me: The medication this month is a thousand dollars. Transfer the money. I was heartbroken. I didn’t send it. He texted again: I knew it. You think I’m a burden. You don’t want to pay for my treatment anymore. Fine. I’ll just go die. I panicked, closed up my cart, and rushed home, only to find the Mendel family’s representatives there to take him away. The reason was simple. The Mendel family heir, Joseph’s older brother, had died of bone cancer. Joseph was now the only male heir of his generation. His grandfather would not allow him to remain an outcast any longer. I thought Adrian would mock me when he heard the story. But instead, his eyes were full of pain for me. He pulled me into a tight embrace. “Stella,” he whispered. “Tell me everything that’s happened to you.” There wasn’t much to tell. I had changed my university choice and gone to a school as far from New York as I could get. In my sophomore year, I met Joseph. He came from a single-parent home and lived on a meager allowance. While his roommates wore designer sneakers, he had worn the same ten-dollar pair for two years. I was already working part-time, not only supporting myself but also sending money home to my grandmother. I was an orphan, abandoned as a baby. My grandmother was the only family I had ever known. Then, one day, she was gone. She was hit by a car while collecting recyclables and died at the hospital. My world collapsed. I had sworn I would give her a life of comfort. She had promised me she would live a long life. How could she break her promise? It was Joseph who took time off school to go with me, to help me with the funeral arrangements, to encourage me to keep going. My grandmother’s settlement was thirty thousand dollars. It all went into my bank account. When we returned to school, Joseph started pursuing me.

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The first time my fiancé’s adopted sister threw a tantrum over her separation anxiety and ruined our engagement party, I laid down the law. I told him if we weren’t married by my twenty-eighth birthday, he would have to choose between her and me. But he was so sure of himself. He knew my dying mother’s last wish was to see me happy, and he was convinced that meant marrying him, her long-time love. So, at our ninth attempt at an engagement party, just before my twenty-seventh birthday, when his sister locked me in a bathroom, put on the wedding dress my mother had made for me, and took my place at the altar, he told me to just endure it a little longer. I watched her in my dress, a placid smile on my face. “She looks quite pretty.” My fiancé, Evan, let out a sigh of relief and reached for my hand. “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t let her cause any more trouble next time. Just be patient.” I smoothly sidestepped his touch. “There won’t be a next time. What I mean is, you two make a perfect pair.” Sorry, but you’re not the only one who can make me happy. 1 Smack. A searing pain bloomed on my cheek. “What on earth are you saying?” Evan’s mother shrieked, her face contorted with rage. “Anyone would think we’re some kind of dysfunctional, incestuous family! Your sister is just having an anxiety attack! She needs her brother’s comfort. It’s just a dress. As her future sister-in-law, you should be more understanding, not spreading vicious rumors that will ruin her reputation!” She shot Evan a look of pure disappointment. “I told you she has no grace. Why would you marry a woman like this? She’ll bring nothing but misery to your sister and me!” Evan’s brow furrowed, his eyes filled with a familiar weariness as he looked at me. He sighed. “Chloe, I just praised you for being so understanding. Why can’t you just let it go?” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “It’s just a dress. She wore it. She walked out in it. So what? We’re the ones getting the marriage license. Does it really matter who stood up there for a silly engagement party? Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” He softened his tone. “Just apologize to my mom and Maya. I’ll be more careful next time.” I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. I had heard this same speech nine times now. I was so, so tired. “No,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I already told you. This wedding is off.” The air grew heavy. All three of them stared at me, their faces grim. Evan looked at me as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Before he could speak, Maya clutched at the skirt of my dress, her voice trembling. “Brother, did I do something wrong? I was just scared… Scared that after you get married, you won’t be close to me anymore. I just wanted a memento. I didn’t mean to ruin your engagement.” I watched their performance, my face a mask of indifference. “You don’t need a memento. If you want him that badly, you can have him.” His mother lunged at me again, her hand raised, but I was ready this time. I stepped back, and her swing met empty air, sending her stumbling and clutching at her lower back. Her eyes burned with hatred. Evan’s face was a canvas of disappointment. “I’ve told you before, Maya developed this anxiety after she was trapped in an empty room trying to save me. She can’t be away from me. Why do you always have to be so difficult about it?” he said, his voice laced with accusation. “If you don’t want to get married, then we’ll wait. It’s not like I’m the one in a hurry.” His words hit me like a physical blow. I froze. He knew. He knew I was rushing to get married before my twenty-eighth birthday to fulfill my mother’s dying wish. And at some point, he had started using that knowledge as a weapon, a tool to force me into submission, to make me apologize, to make me yield. I took a deep breath, turned my back on them, and walked away without another word. At the hospital, I watched my mother through the glass panel of her room. She was so thin, a fragile skeleton of the woman she once was. A nurse was helping her walk, her movements slow and pained. “You’re putting yourself through so much, practicing walking like this,” the nurse said gently. “All so you can walk your daughter down the aisle. But it’s so hard on your body.” My mother smiled through the pain. “It’s not hard… I promised her father I would remember her happiest moment, so I could tell him all about it when I see him again. I’ve waited for this for so many years. What’s a little more pain?” I shrank into a corner of the hallway, tears streaming down my face, my body wracked with silent sobs. Years ago, when my parents were working abroad, they were caught in a mass shooting. They were both hit while shielding an important political figure. My father was killed instantly. My mother was hit with a shotgun blast. She survived, but of the six pellets lodged in her body, only four could be removed. The other two were in locations too dangerous to operate on. Removing them would be a death sentence. As the years passed, the pellets shifted, burrowing deeper, causing her unimaginable, constant pain. She had held on for me, for so long, and I couldn’t even give her this one thing, this one piece of peace. I was useless. I couldn’t even fulfill such a simple wish. I wiped my tears and put on a smile before entering her room. The nurse left us alone. My mother’s weary eyes lit up when she saw me. “How did it go today?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. Looking into her hopeful eyes, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “It went perfectly. Everything’s on track. We should be married by next month.” She let out a breath she seemed to have been holding. But just as the tension left her body, two unwelcome voices echoed from the hallway. Maya stood in the doorway, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Auntie, I am so, so sorry. It was my fault. My anxiety flared up again, and that’s why Chloe and my brother’s engagement didn’t go smoothly.” Then her eyes met mine, and her tone shifted, becoming sickly sweet. “Sister, I know you don’t want to disappoint Auntie, but you can’t use her health to force my brother’s hand. Nothing’s been decided about the wedding yet. My mother is so upset with you she can’t even get out of bed.” She turned back to my mother, her expression a perfect picture of innocence. “But don’t you worry, Auntie. We’ll have it all sorted out before the end of the year. I’ll take my medication, and I promise I won’t cause any more trouble. Just be patient. You’ll see them get married soon.” Her words were sweet, but her expression was pure mockery. In an instant, the smile on my mother’s face froze. Her breathing became ragged and shallow. Her eyes, wide and red-rimmed, fixed on me. “Is it true?” she whispered. I glared at them, my voice shaking with fury. “Who let you in here? Didn’t you hear what I said? I am not marrying him! Are you incapable of understanding simple words?” My mother started to tremble, gasping for air. The monitor beside her bed blared to life, a symphony of alarms signaling her distress. I screamed for a doctor. As the medical team rushed in, my legs gave out from under me. I could only watch, helpless. Maya started to sob hysterically. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I just wanted to explain, to tell you not to be so impulsive. It’s all my fault Auntie is like this.” I snapped. I slapped her hard across the face, my voice a low, vicious snarl. “My mother is not dead yet. If you want to cry over a grave, go home and do it.” They both stared at me, stunned. Evan’s brow furrowed in disapproval. “Chloe, that’s enough. She didn’t mean it, and she’s apologized. Why are you taking it out on her? Besides, your mother’s health has always been fragile. You can’t blame other people for that.” My eyes, burning with unshed tears, locked onto his. “Get out,” I hissed. “Both of you, get out!” Just then, a doctor rushed out of the room, his face grim. “It’s not looking good. You need to prepare yourselves. We’re taking her into surgery now.” Panic seized me, and I collapsed onto the floor. My gaze fell on the two people who had caused this, the two architects of my mother’s pain. Maya shrank back from my glare, clutching her chest and gasping for air as if she couldn’t breathe. Evan hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he scooped her into his arms and turned to leave. “There’s nothing I can do to help with the surgery,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I’ll take her home and come back later.” I couldn’t believe he could say those words. But then again, in his eyes, my mother had long ceased to be a person. She was just a tool, a lever he could use to force me to bend to his family’s will. After an agonizing hour, my mother was out of surgery. She was stable. Looking at her tear-streaked face, I knew I couldn’t let her down again. I took a deep breath and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “Is your offer still on the table?” “Of course. Anything you want.” I bit my lip. “Marry me. Three years, max. Then you’ll be free.” There was a long silence on the other end. “Done. When?” “Three days. My mother can’t wait any longer. I’ll meet you at the city hall.” With everything settled, I rushed home to pack. The most important thing was my mother’s wedding dress. I had to get it back, intact. I had promised her I would wear it on my wedding day. When I walked in, Evan was pressing an ice pack to the red mark on Maya’s cheek. My eyes immediately locked onto a box on the table. The box where I kept the dress. I breathed a sigh of relief. But when I opened it, the dress was in tatters, a shredded heap of silk and lace. My vision blurred with red. “What is this? Who did this?” Maya, her face still covered by the ice pack, sniffled. “I’m sorry, sister. I didn’t mean to ruin it.” Evan immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her from me. “Don’t scare her. It’s not your main wedding gown anyway. I’ll have a better one made for you. She just accidentally stepped on it when she was taking it off. We had no idea the quality was so poor.” Without a second thought, I slapped him. “You knew my mother poured her heart and soul into making this for me, and you just let her destroy it? Poor quality? I’ve worn it nine times without a single tear, and she rips it to shreds the one time she puts it on? Open your eyes! Those are clean cuts! She took a pair of scissors to it! And you’re still defending her!” A flash of annoyance crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with a weary sigh. “Maybe it was difficult for her to take off, so she had to cut it,” he said, his voice placating. “She’s still young, and she has her issues. Try to be more understanding. It’s just a dress. Let’s not ruin our relationship over it. We’re going to be family soon. How are we supposed to get along if you make a scene over every little thing?” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. I could taste blood in my mouth. “Who the hell wants to be family with you and your sick, twisted sister? Evan, the biggest regret of my life is ever loving you!” “It’s just a dress,” I spat, my voice dripping with contempt. “A dress in exchange for seeing you for who you really are? A bargain.” At my words, Maya, who had been trembling in the corner, suddenly dropped to her knees. She started hitting herself, her cries escalating. “It’s all my fault! Why did I have to have an attack then? Why do I always destroy things when I’m upset?” she wailed. “Sister, my brother loves you so much! Please don’t leave him! I’ll go! I’m not even a real part of this family anyway! I won’t let my problems ruin your love!” With that, she scrambled to her feet and ran to the open window, climbing onto the ledge. Evan was horrified. “What are you doing? Get down from there!” Maya looked back at him, her face a mask of despair. “As long as I’m alive, I can’t control my attacks! The only way to stop this is if I’m dead!” She was about to jump. Evan was frantic. “No, don’t! It’s not your fault! No one blames you! You’ll always be our family! Chloe doesn’t care about the dress!” He turned to me, his eyes wild with desperation. “Say something!” I just stared at them, my heart a block of ice. “That’s your family’s problem. It has nothing to do with me.” As I turned to leave, Evan’s hand shot out and slapped me across the face. “You are unbelievable!” he roared. “That is a human life! Over a stupid dress, are you serious?” He rushed to the window, not even glancing back at me. “Get down, Maya. I hit her for you. See? It’s okay. Please, get down. If it makes you happy, I won’t get married. We can wait until you’re feeling better, okay?” Maya climbed down, and as she fell into his arms, she shot me a look of pure, triumphant malice. Only then did Evan seem to remember I was there. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. “It was an emergency. You have to understand. You were being so cold. Thank God nothing happened.” My teeth were clenched so tight my jaw ached. All I could see was my mother’s pale, bruised face. I slapped him back, hard. “You knew it was an emergency for her, but what about my mother? When she was having a medical emergency because of your sister, that wasn’t an emergency?” “The first time, she switched out the welcome signs. The second time, she drove her car into me. The third time, she dug up my father’s grave! Are you the only ones who are human? Are my mother and I not?” I was so furious I stormed out without even bothering to pack. He grabbed my arm, his face a mess of guilt, trying to explain. But Maya clung to his other arm, refusing to let him go. He gave me a helpless look and sighed. “She’s having an attack. She can’t be left alone. I’ll… I’ll visit your mother when I have time.” For the next two days, I didn’t leave my mother’s side. Evan never showed up. But my social media feed was flooded with pictures of Maya, smiling and happy, with Evan by her side. I had already given up on him. I blocked them all. On the morning of the third day, I finally got the text I was waiting for. From Liam. I helped my mother get dressed and ready to go out. She looked at me, confused. “Where are we going?” I smiled. “I’m taking you to meet someone. And to do something that will make you very happy.” We took a cab to the city hall. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why are we here?” I pushed her wheelchair forward. “To get married, of course.” Her expression turned serious. “I want to see you get married, but you can’t just marry a random stranger!” I laughed. “He’s not a stranger. You’ll see in a minute—” I was cut off by Evan’s voice behind me. “I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he said, a smug smile on his face. “All that talk about not getting married was just you being dramatic. Now here you are at the city hall, trying to force my hand.” He took my hand, his grip firm. “Fine. We can get married. But no wedding, no reception. My sister can’t handle it, and it puts me in a difficult position.” As if on cue, Maya started to cry. “Brother, are you really going to abandon me? Sister doesn’t like me. She’ll make you stay away from me.” Evan sighed and patted her head. “You see? My sister is still very upset about what you did. So here’s the deal. You apologize to her, and you write a formal letter promising you will never bully her again.” Looking at his self-righteous expression, I snatched my hand away and walked toward the appointment check-in. “Did I say I was marrying you? Don’t be so delusional.” Evan froze for a second, then let out a cold laugh, blocking my path. “Don’t be stubborn. We’ve been together for years. Who else would you marry? Come on, stop making a scene. Apologize, and we can get the license right now.” I ignored him and asked a clerk to help me check in. Seeing me dismiss him so completely, his face darkened with anger. “I told you, if you don’t apologize, I am not marrying you. I will not allow you to bully my family! I am not going to enable your bad behavior!” he shouted, his voice drawing the attention of everyone around us. “All this time, you’ve been nothing but cruel to my family. What’s so hard about saying you’re sorry? You want to marry me, but you’re not willing to make any concessions. Is that how you think this works?” Maya started to sob dramatically. “Sister, I know you think I’m trying to steal your brother from you, and I don’t blame you for being mean to me. But my illness is real. I really can’t be without him,” she cried. “If you really can’t accept me, then I’ll just die. I would do anything for my brother’s happiness.” Suddenly, I was the villain. Murmurs of disapproval rippled through the crowd. I looked at the two of them, their performance perfectly synchronized, not a shred of guilt on their faces. I wasn’t going to waste my breath. I turned to wheel my mother away, but Evan grabbed my arm. “Where are you going? How long are you going to run from this? I’m telling you, this is your only chance. Apologize to my sister in front of everyone, and I will marry you right now,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “If you walk away, this engagement is over. And when your mother dies, don’t come crying to me for help. I won’t be there.” I trembled with rage. “How dare you say that about my mother? I’m telling you, your entire family will be dead and buried before my mother is! And you think I’d come to you for help? In your dreams!” Evan’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “You’ve really lost your mind! How dare you speak about my mother that way! I’m going to teach you a lesson!” He raised his hand to strike me. I braced myself, ready to call the police the second he touched me. But the blow never landed. I opened my eyes to see a strong, steady hand gripping Evan’s wrist. “My fiancée is not for you to discipline.”

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A text from the real estate agent lit up my phone in the dead of night: “Annie, can you give me your fiancé’s number? I missed my period this month, and I’m starting to get scared.” I glanced at the message, then at my fiancé, Tomer, sleeping like the dead beside me. “You managed to get pregnant but not his phone number? You’re pathetic,” I typed back, my thumb jabbing the screen. Then, with a surge of fury, I kicked him clean out of the bed. 1 I woke up in the middle of the night, my throat parched. As I reached for a glass of water, my phone buzzed with a notification. Who would be texting me this late? I wondered, picking it up. To my surprise, it was Amber, the real estate agent I’d been in contact with recently. “Annie, can you give me your fiancé’s number? I missed my period this month, and I’m starting to get scared.” For a moment, the words didn’t register. I rubbed my eyes, reading it again. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. My fiancé’s mistress was knocking on my digital door. I looked over at Tomer, who was snoring peacefully, oblivious. In my mind, I was already tearing him limb from limb. “You managed to get pregnant but not his phone number? You’re pathetic,” I typed, gritting my teeth as I sent it. Then, I swung my leg out and shoved him hard. He tumbled out of bed with a startled yelp. jolted from a deep sleep, Tomer scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with alarm. “What’s wrong? Was that an earthquake? Babe, we have to go!” I just stared at him, my expression glacial. “Babe? What is it?” Seeing my face, he realized the danger wasn’t seismic. It was me. He sighed, cautiously climbing back onto the bed. “What happened? Did you have a nightmare? What unforgivable crime did I commit in your dreams this time?” He tried to pull me into a hug, but I pushed him away. “Don’t touch me,” I said, my voice cold. “Stay right there. I have some questions for you.” Tomer, utterly confused, retreated to the corner of the bed, looking like a kicked puppy. It was a look I knew well, the one he used when he wanted comfort. The thought that this same man, this man who could look so pitifully innocent, would betray me with another woman… Honestly, before today, the possibility had never even crossed my mind. I took a deep breath, about to demand how he and Amber had gotten together, when my phone buzzed again. It was her. Amber: “Annie, I know it’s hard to accept that your fiancé cheated on you. I get why you’re trying to put me down.” “But you need to face reality. Cutting me down with words won’t help you. You can’t keep a man who doesn’t want to be kept. Besides, I’m not trying to cause trouble. I just think the father has a right to know about his child.” “Are you so afraid of him finding out because you know you can’t compete with me?” I’d lived for over two decades and had never encountered someone so utterly shameless. For a second, I was too stunned to speak. Instead, I tossed the phone at Tomer. “Your baby mama’s looking for you. You’d think after knocking someone up, you’d at least get their contact info. Now she’s using me as a messenger.” Tomer, who had assumed my rage was dream-induced, was completely blindsided by the phone hitting his lap and the words “baby mama” hitting his ears. He gave a weak laugh. “Annie, what are you talking about?” He picked up the phone and started reading. As the meaning of the texts sank in, his eyes went wide. “This is slander!” he yelled, jumping up. “It’s defamation! Who is this? I’m going to sue her.” “She missed her period? Maybe she has a hormone imbalance or some kind of illness! How does that automatically mean she’s pregnant?” “Wait, even if she is pregnant, what does that have to do with me? I don’t even know this person!” He looked up at me, his face a mask of wounded innocence. “Annie… do you have another boyfriend?” My first instinct was to scream. The nerve of this man, trying to pin his own mess on me! But then I thought about it. For the past two months, Tomer had been on a business trip with my dad. He’d only gotten back yesterday. He genuinely didn’t know Amber. So why would she claim to be pregnant with my fiancé’s child? Seeing my silence, Tomer’s act grew more dramatic. He looked ready to burst into tears. “You really do have another man on the side, don’t you? You cruel, heartless woman! I’m telling your parents! We’re about to get married, and you’re cheating on me!” He actually pulled out his phone and started scrolling for my mom’s number. I lunged, clamping my hand over his. “Don’t you dare!” “I have to! You have another man! I’m heartbroken! Your parents need to know about this!” He struggled against my grip but didn’t actually hit dial, just stared at me with wide, pleading eyes. I sighed, my anger giving way to confusion. “Something isn’t right here.” I took my phone back and explained the situation to Tomer. We were planning to buy a new house for our wedding, so I’d spent the last two months visiting sales galleries all over the city. Amber was the agent I’d dealt with the most. Our interactions had always been pleasant, though recently, whenever I’d tried to schedule a viewing, she’d made excuses or passed me off to another agent. When her text came in tonight, I hadn’t stopped to think. I’d just assumed she meant Tomer. With that in mind, I sent Amber another message: “Are you sure you have the right person? Do you know who I am? Do you know who my fiancé is?” Her reply was instantaneous. Amber: “Annie Davis. You can’t be hoping I made a mistake. Of course I know who your fiancé is.” “If you don’t believe me, I’ll send you a picture of us. Tomer himself told me I’m way more interesting than you.” A photo appeared on my screen. In it, Amber was pressed tightly against a handsome man. He was grinning from ear to ear, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. But the man in the photo wasn’t Tomer. It was someone we both knew, though. It was Tomer’s cousin, Aidan. That’s when I remembered. When I first started house hunting, Tomer was away on that business trip, so he’d asked his cousin to go with me. But I was picky. It was our first home, after all. After two viewings, Aidan lost his patience. In front of the sales staff, he’d griped about how high-maintenance I was, how I was making a simple task difficult and wasting everyone’s time. I’d bitten my tongue for Tomer’s sake, but I complained to him about it later. After that, Tomer never asked his cousin to accompany me again. I never imagined that in just those two visits, he and Amber had… connected. On my phone, two minutes after sending the photo, Amber unsent it. I didn’t even have time to take a screenshot. “See? I told you it wasn’t me,” Tomer said, a note of triumph in his voice now that he’d seen the picture. I shot him a withering glare. “Right, it’s not you. But it looks like she’s about to become your cousin’s new wife.” Tomer’s brow furrowed. “What new wife? My cousin is married!” 2 He was right. Aidan had gotten married a year ago. He had a wife. And he was sleeping with Amber. A wave of disgust washed over me. I was about to call Aidan and give him a piece of my mind, but Tomer stopped me. “What? Are you going to cover for your cousin?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. Tomer shook his head. “Of course not. But if you call him now, he’ll just deny everything. He’ll probably even flip it around and accuse you of trying to stir up trouble between us.” His assessment told me he knew his cousin’s character all too well. “So what do you suggest we do? Just pretend we don’t know?” I said, feeling deflated. A wicked grin spread across Tomer’s face. “No way. The other woman has come directly to you, the fiancée, to pick a fight. It’s only natural for you to go raise a little hell, isn’t it?” His words made my eyes light up. He was right. Amber had provoked me in the middle of the night. It was perfectly normal for me to be furious. I ignored the stream of taunting messages still coming from Amber, turned off my phone, and went back to sleep. The next morning, Tomer left early for work. I slept in, then took my time getting ready before driving to the sales gallery where Amber worked. She saw me the moment I walked in. A smug smile played on her lips as she watched me storm towards her. Another agent, seeing my thunderous expression, approached me. “Ma’am, is there something I can help you with?” I pointed a trembling finger at Amber, who was standing a short distance away, still smirking. “I’m about to get married,” I announced, my voice loud enough for the entire showroom to hear. “And your employee, Amber, seduced my fiancé! She’s pregnant with his child! Does your company just let its staff destroy people’s families like this?” My voice echoed through the large space. The handful of potential buyers browsing the models all turned to stare. They followed my finger to Amber. I had to hand it to her; anyone bold enough to provoke the fiancée directly had nerves of steel. Faced with the judgmental stares of everyone in the room, her expression didn’t waver. That smug smile never left her face. Amber walked towards me, her smile unwavering. “Honey, if your fiancé did something wrong, you should take it up with him. Why come after me?” “You don’t actually think it’s all the other woman’s fault when a man cheats, do you? You’re a woman yourself. Has it ever occurred to you that the real problem is your fiancé?” Her smile grew brighter as she closed the distance between us. Her shamelessness almost threw me off balance. But I’m no fool, and I wasn’t about to let her deflect the blame with a few well-chosen words. It was clear, however, that some of the onlookers were being swayed. A young woman nearby whispered, “She has a point. Every time a guy cheats, the wife comes and attacks the mistress while the jerk gets to hide. Why not deal with your own man instead of making trouble for another woman?” Hearing this, Amber’s colleagues seemed to gain a bit of confidence. One of them even approached me with a placating smile. “Miss, if your fiancé really did wrong you, perhaps you should talk to him? We’re all women here, why make things hard for each other? At the end of the day, this is all about a man.” More people started chiming in, and my face grew darker by the second. 3 I never thought that I, the victim, would be labeled as some pathetic woman obsessed with a man. As more people took her side, Amber’s confidence swelled. She placed a hand on her stomach and gave me a triumphant smirk. “Honey, I helped you see your man for the cheater he is. You should be thanking me, not causing a scene. You’re being so ungrateful.” I could feel her deliberately trying to provoke me, hoping for an explosive reaction. It was obvious she was an expert at manipulating a situation and shifting the focus. Seeing her increasingly smug expression, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face. “A homewrecker is a homewrecker. Did someone teach you to build a monument to your own virtue after sleeping with another woman’s man?” After the slap, I saw a flash of triumph in her eyes, though her expression immediately crumpled into one of pain and sorrow. She clutched her cheek, her voice choked with emotion. “This world is so cruel to women. It takes two people to make a mistake, but you only come after me.” With that, she transformed into the perfect victim. The other customers and staff immediately rushed to her side, forming a protective circle around her. I frowned, a sudden realization dawning on me. This woman had been pushing me to confront my fiancé from the very beginning. Her goal was to make me fight with the man, so she could swoop in and pick up the pieces. “It does take two,” I said, my own eyes welling up with tears as I put on a performance of my own. “How do you know I haven’t confronted my fiancé? He denies ever knowing you. But you’re the one who texted me in the middle of the night to taunt me. Shouldn’t I come to you?” I grabbed the arm of a girl standing nearby, showing her the messages Amber had sent me last night. “Look at this. Isn’t she deliberately trying to provoke me? My fiancé isn’t even in town. I called him, and he denies everything. My only option was to confront her directly.” “If this is true, I’m calling off the wedding,” I added, my voice cracking. The girl read the messages, and her face twisted in disgust as she looked at Amber. “You’re the one in the wrong, and instead of lying low, you jump out and provoke his fiancée? That’s disgusting.” She then read Amber’s first text aloud for everyone to hear: “‘Annie, can you give me your fiancé’s number? I missed my period this month, and I’m starting to get scared.’” “Wow, the passive-aggression is off the charts. If that were me, I’d be furious too.” The girl read a few more of the messages, and the expressions on the faces of the onlookers shifted. Those who had been standing by Amber awkwardly shuffled a few feet away. Amber hadn’t expected me to play the victim card. Her face paled slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for the child in my belly. And besides, I helped you see your fiancé’s true colors. Isn’t it better to find out he’s a scumbag now, before you’re actually married?” She had the audacity to look like she was doing me a favor. I almost laughed out loud. “Don’t you dare say you’re doing this ‘for my own good.’ I’m your client, for God’s sake. If you really cared about my well-being, you wouldn’t have slept with my fiancé. And now he’s calling you a liar and denying you even exist. Why don’t you clear that up for me?” My words seemed to surprise her. “Didn’t you see the picture I sent?” “I didn’t get a good look before you unsent it,” I said dismissively. “Since you claim you slept with my fiancé, show me some proof. After all, you didn’t even manage to get his number.” 4 My taunt seemed to trigger her competitive streak. She pulled out her phone. “I said I didn’t have his phone number. We’re connected on social media.” She opened a chat window. The profile name was ‘Tomer,’ and the avatar was his. I squinted, trying to get a better look, but she quickly snatched the phone back and placed a video call through the app. At that moment, I pulled out my own phone, my heart pounding. Was it possible Tomer had been lying to me? But a second later, the call connected, and the voice that came through the speaker was unmistakably Aidan’s. “Honey, your fiancée is here at my office, making a scene. What do I do? I’m so scared,” Amber cooed, her voice dripping with false fear while her eyes shot me a look of pure provocation. Aidan’s voice, full of disdain, crackled from the phone. “What’s there to be scared of? It’s not like she can eat you.” “But she said you won’t even acknowledge our relationship. You’re not just going to sleep with me and then dump me, are you?” Amber’s voice became even more saccharine, sending shivers down my spine. She completely ignored the disgusted looks from the people around her, her eyes fixed on me, eagerly awaiting my reaction. Aidan laughed on the other end. “Of course not. If Annie hadn’t come along first and gotten the family’s approval, I would have broken up with her a long time ago. Let her make a scene. If it gets too bad, you can quit, and I’ll support you.” Aidan’s voice was loud and clear. Everyone in the showroom heard it. Amber shot me a triumphant smirk. The onlookers now looked at me with pity. The girl who had read my texts aloud stepped forward and put a supportive hand on my arm. I feigned an expression of utter disbelief and lunged for Amber’s phone. She stepped back, still holding the phone to her ear. “What if your fiancée comes to find you?” “Let her,” Aidan’s voice boomed. “I doubt she has the guts. She’s lucky to be marrying into our family.” That was the last straw. Even Tomer wouldn’t dare say something so arrogant. Where did Aidan get the nerve to say I was lucky to be marrying into his family? I was about to open my mouth and let him have it, but Amber, satisfied, ended the call. She looked at me with a mixture of pity and contempt. “It seems you don’t have the courage to confront your fiancé after all, Ms. Davis. Everything you said before was just a lie.” “A woman needs to learn to love herself. If you just cling to a man, one day he’ll let you down. Consider this a lesson from me: men can’t be trusted.” “There’s no point in directing all your anger at me. It’s 2025. When will you learn that when a man cheats, it’s not just the other woman’s fault? Most of the blame lies with your own partner.” “It’s obvious you can’t handle your fiancé. So why not just recognize him for the scumbag he is and walk away?” Her little speech, incredibly, seemed to win over several people in the crowd again. I even saw someone recording a video. “Now that’s what I call a strong female lead,” the person recording muttered. “You guys, this sales agent is amazing. So calm, so clear-headed.” I was so furious I could only laugh. “Are you people insane? Now we’re glorifying homewreckers and calling them strong female leads?” “Getting involved with someone who’s already in a relationship is morally wrong. There’s no excuse. You can’t just say ‘it’s mostly the man’s fault’ and expect to get off scot-free.” “And don’t you stand there acting like you’re my savior. I don’t need you to rescue me.”

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Caleb Reed has a tongue like a scalpel. I’ve always been on the curvier side, and when the sample for a photoshoot—a delicate white lace dress—arrived from the online boutique, he’d smirked. “Are you seriously going to humiliate yourself in that? Anyone who sees you will think a sausage is trying to play dress-up.” I’ve lost count of the number of times Caleb’s words have broken me, but I always convinced myself to let it go. He was devastatingly handsome and outrageously generous, and I forced myself to believe that was enough. Until the incident with the freshman from the debate society, Chloe. The night before the finals, she leaked our entire case file to the opposing team. Normally, this is the kind of catastrophic incompetence that would have had Caleb sneering, asking if her brain was just for decoration. But this time, all he did was toss her a pack of tissues and turn his face away. “What are you crying for? It’s ugly.” 1 Chloe’s sobs were a theatrical performance. “I’m so sorry,” she wailed. “It’s all my fault. Because of my mistake, everyone’s disqualified!” Five minutes earlier, the tournament organizers had officially booted us from the competition. Months of grueling preparation, all of it gone before we even had a chance to step on stage. The air in the hotel hallway was thick with fury. “A mistake?” one of our teammates shot back. “You call that a mistake? Who ‘accidentally’ prints out a dozen copies of our entire strategy and leaves it neatly stacked in front of our opponent’s hotel room?” Chloe’s voice hitched. “I’m sorry… I must have mixed up the room numbers…” That just fanned the flames. “Our rooms are all next to each other! You’re telling me you don’t remember where we are, or even where you are staying?” Another teammate piled on. “Just stop. You could cry a river and it wouldn’t be enough to fill that empty head of yours.” Caleb, who had been leaning against the wall in silence, finally pushed himself off with a sharp sigh. “Dude, your breath stinks,” he said to the guy. “Seriously? You think ganging up on a freshman makes you look tough?” A stunned silence fell over the group. Caleb wasn’t just our star first-chair debater; he was the undisputed king of verbal evisceration. Under any other circumstance, a screw-up this colossal, this blatantly intentional, would have had Caleb coldly dissecting the person’s entire genetic lineage. He would’ve asked, with genuine curiosity, if their parents were siblings. But this time, he just fished a pack of tissues from his pocket, tossed it at Chloe’s feet, and averted his gaze. “It’s done. Crying isn’t going to change anything.” Watching him, my heart pricked, a sharp, thin sting. It felt deeply, uncomfortably wrong. Caleb was sharp-tongued and allergic to comfort. I thought back to the countless times he’d made me cry. He’d stand there, hands shoved in his pockets, impatiently tapping his foot on the ground. “Are you done yet? It was a minor thing. How long are you going to drag this out?” Everyone was now looking at me, the team president, waiting for a verdict. I pushed down the strange, sour feeling in my gut and focused on Chloe. “Whether it was intentional or not, your actions have consequences for the entire team. You’re no longer a member of the debate society. Don’t come to any future meetings or events.” Her eyes widened, fresh tears spilling over. “Claire, I know you’ve never liked me, but everyone makes mistakes! Are you really going to take away my chance to pursue my passion over one little slip-up?” A teammate scoffed. “What passion? You can barely string a sentence together! The only reason you ever got to speak was because Claire gave you her own talking points, and even then you stammered through them and dragged the whole team down!” “And this wasn’t a ‘little slip-up’!” another added. “This was the championship tournament! This was everything! How can you call that a small thing?” Before Chloe could answer, Caleb’s voice cut through the air, low and dangerous. “Enough.” He turned his gaze on me. “Claire, you’re the president, for Christ’s sake. Are you just going to stand there and watch your team bully a freshman?” He raked his eyes over me, a dismissive, head-to-toe scan. Then, he let the final words drop, soft and lethal. “Oh, right. I forgot. You’re leading the charge.” My throat felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton. The sudden, suffocating pressure stole my voice. Thankfully, someone else spoke up for me. “What are you talking about, man? How are we bullying her?” “Claire just kicked her off the team. She’s not pressing charges or getting her expelled. How does that make her the ringleader?” Chloe sniffled, grabbing the sleeve of Caleb’s jacket. “Caleb, it’s okay. I know you’re just trying to stand up for me, but…” She shot a look at me, as if I were some kind of monster, and lowered her head. Her voice was laced with a tragic whisper. “Maybe it’s just because Claire really doesn’t like me.” 2 The night ended with everyone scattering in anger and disgust. Before leaving, Caleb took Chloe’s hand. He glanced back at me, his expression cold as ice. “You’re being petty, Claire. I hope you take a good, long look at yourself.” I watched their retreating figures, a profound sense of confusion washing over me. What did I do wrong? The question echoed in my mind as I walked, zombie-like, back to the apartment Caleb and I shared. Staring at the flawlessly polished floors, a bitter thought surfaced. Caleb was a notorious neat freak, a germaphobe who practically had a “Do Not Touch” sign tattooed on his forehead. He didn’t just keep strangers at a distance; sometimes, even I, his girlfriend, was treated like a contaminant. Unless he initiated it, any attempt I made to touch him was met with a cold recoil. If I tried to hold his hand, he’d pull away. If I did what Chloe just did—tug on his sleeve—he would, without fail, take off the shirt right in front of me and toss it into the trash like it was radioactive waste. I remember once, I was working a late shift at a greasy spoon diner to make extra cash. A couple of drunk guys started harassing me. I called Caleb from the police station, crying, begging him to come get me. When he finally walked in, his face a mask of annoyed indifference, the dam of my composure broke. I threw myself into his arms, sobbing into his chest. “You… you came,” I wept. “Caleb, I was so scared.” He let me hold him for a long moment, waiting until my sobs subsided. When I finally pulled back, he looked down at my swollen, tear-streaked face. I thought, just for a second, that even he would offer a word of comfort in a situation like this. But all he said, his lips barely moving, was, “Claire. Do you have any idea how disgusting you are right now, clinging to me like this?” The memory made fresh tears trace paths down my cheeks. Just then, the front door opened. It was Caleb. Our eyes met before I had a chance to wipe my face. He kicked off his shoes with an irritated flick of his foot and looked away with a sneer. “Unbelievable. Chloe gets torn apart by your whole team and she barely sheds a tear, but you, the instigator, are here crying your eyes out. That’s rich.” My voice was thick with emotion. “She sabotaged months of work for every single one of us. All I did was remove her from the team. Was that really so cruel?” I paused, the frustration that had been simmering all afternoon finally boiling over. “And you… you’re the guy who practically has ‘I can’t stand idiots’ tattooed on your forehead. Why were you so quick to jump to her defense today?” Caleb flinched, then his annoyance flared. “‘Can’t stand idiots’? Can you ever say anything without being dramatic, Claire? What’s wrong with me not wanting to see a group of people tear a girl apart for making one mistake?” I raised a hand to wipe my eyes, but the tears just came faster. “Chloe is a stranger. You can’t bear to see her cry.” My voice cracked. “But what about me? I’m your girlfriend. Am I supposed to just stand by and watch you defend the person who screwed me over?” He let out a cold laugh. “There it is again. Honestly, Claire, I’m impressed. You always find a way to get jealous over the most ridiculous things.” Ridiculous jealousy? A laugh escaped my lips, but it was watery and broken. “You think this is just me being jealous? You think we were bullying her?” I took a shaky breath. “Did you forget that my scholarship doesn’t cover everything? I was counting on that prize money for next semester’s tuition. She didn’t just ruin a competition for us, Caleb. For me, she ruined everything. And all I did was kick her off the team. Was that really so unforgivable?” He was unmoved. “And now you’re playing the victim. How predictable.” He’d seen how broke I was. He’d seen me exhausted and humiliated at my part-time jobs. He knew I’d poured every ounce of my energy into winning that tournament to cover my expenses. And in his eyes, all of it was just an act. Me, playing the victim. All afternoon, I’d been torturing myself, wondering what I did wrong. Now I knew. My mistake was wasting three years of my life on a man like Caleb. I had cried for so long that when I pushed myself to my feet, the room spun. Caleb instinctively reached out to steady me, but then, as if remembering something, his hand froze in mid-air and he pulled it back, clenching his jaw. A desolate smile touched my lips. My voice was raw, numb from crying. “Think whatever you want.” “Caleb, we’re done. Let’s break up.” A flicker of disbelief crossed his face. “You’re breaking up with me? Over something this small?” Then he scoffed. “Fine. You’re the one who said it, Claire. Just don’t come regretting it.” “I won’t,” I said, my voice flat. I refused to waste another second of my life on a cold-hearted man who had never once seen me as an equal. “I’ll get my things and be out as soon as possible. You…” Before I could finish, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, a cruel little smile playing on his lips, and answered, putting it on speaker. Chloe’s delicate voice filled the silence. “Caleb? I was out for a run and I think I twisted my ankle. Can… can you come see me?” Caleb’s eyes were locked on me. He smirked. “Sure. Send me your location. I’m on my way.” He hung up and looked down at me, his expression imperious. “Let me make myself clear. I don’t do second chances. If you apologize to Chloe, we can pretend tonight never happened. Otherwise…” I cut him off, meeting his gaze directly. “I did nothing wrong. Why would I apologize to her?” I held his stare. “Chloe’s waiting. You should go.” He scanned me one last time, then spat out through gritted teeth, “Fine. You’re really something else, you know that?” Then he turned and slammed the door behind him.

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