Category: English

Five years into my marriage, I caught Julian, my childhood sweetheart and husband, cheating on me with Serena—my illegitimate half-sister. I didn’t handle it gracefully. In a fit of rage, I dragged that wretched girl to a clinic and forced her to abort the child. In retaliation, Julian drove my mother to jump from a rooftop. One funeral. Three lives lost. The baby in my own womb didn’t survive the chaos either. Julian and I tore each other apart for three years, fighting until we had absolutely nothing left. Exhausted, broken, and covered in scars, I finally gave up. I married Dominic Hale, my lifelong rival, who had been waiting for me in the shadows all along. After our wedding, Dominic spoiled me to no end. He put his entire multi-billion-dollar fortune under my name. When a speeding truck barreled toward us, he threw himself over my pregnant body without hesitation, shielding me and landing himself in the ICU. I truly believed Dominic was my savior. My safe harbor. Until today, when I accidentally saw my ex-husband, Julian, standing inside Dominic’s private office. “Uncle Dominic, thank you for taking one for the team,” Julian said, his voice dripping with smugness. “Marrying that psycho Vivian for all these years just to protect Serena.” “Using a fake marriage and a fake trust fund to gain her trust, ensuring she’d never target Serena again. It was brilliant.” “Vivian doesn’t even know that during the car crash, you weren’t protecting her. You were protecting Serena’s baby in her womb.” “She ruined Serena’s body and made her infertile. It’s only fair she uses her own womb to give Serena a child.” Dominic’s lips curved into a cold, indifferent smile. “Enough. The details don’t matter, as long as Serena knows my heart. She saved my life all those years ago. I owe her this debt.” The prenatal report in my hand—the one showing maternal-fetal tissue rejection—slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. Three years ago, I died once. Today, I died a second time.

A suffocating pain slowly engulfed my chest. My heavily swollen, eight-month-pregnant belly felt like a stretched wire, sawing at my nerves and tearing my sanity to shreds. I don’t know how long I stood there before the door creaked open. Dominic walked out, freezing instantly the moment his eyes fell on me. “Vivian? What are you doing here?” I looked up at this man whom I had once viewed as my ultimate salvation. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I wanted to scream, to tear the place down. But when I spoke, only a quiet, broken whisper came out. “Dominic, if I weren’t standing here today, how much longer were you planning to lie to me?” Dominic took a deep breath. He knelt down on one knee, took off his suit jacket, and gently wrapped it around my waist. “Vivian, don’t make a scene here, okay? Let’s go home. I can explain everything.” Only then did I notice that the air conditioner was blowing cold air directly toward my belly. He was always so attentive. So detailed. I used to think this was unparalleled love. But now, looking at his hands, I shrank back. I was terrified that if I accepted his warmth, it would just be another layer of poison. I trembled, pushing his hands away. “We don’t need to go home. Explain it right here.” “Explain the fake marriage. The fake trust. Explain why the baby in my womb belongs to Serena.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make the passing employees turn and stare. Those sharp, judgmental looks felt like needles piercing my skin. It was humiliating. Yet, I didn’t move an inch. Even knowing that my entire life was a lie. I wanted to hear it from his own mouth. But the first thing I got was a loud, mocking laugh from behind him. “Vivian, when did you become so pathetic?” Julian walked out of the office, looking down at me with utter contempt. “Are you really too cowardly to accept the truth when it’s staring you in the face?” “Uncle Dominic had a vasectomy the very night you two signed those fake papers. You went through dozens of agonizing rounds of IVF these past few years. Didn’t you ever find it suspicious?” A vasectomy. How laughable. Over the past three years, Dominic had treated me so well that I had let down all my guards. I had smoothed out all my sharp edges just to be loved. Even if I was delusional, I had fought so hard to hold onto this last saving grace. But now, every single illusion was brutally shattered. “I will abort this child,” I said, closing my eyes and forcing the last shred of my dignity into my voice. “I will get a hysterotomy. Today.” Before I could even turn around, Dominic’s face paled. He rushed forward and grabbed my wrist. “Are you insane, Vivian?! You’re eight months pregnant! A late-term termination right now will kill you!” His voice was laced with frantic worry, sounding exactly like the doting husband I thought he was. But I only laughed, tears spilling over. “Dominic, are you worried about me? Or are you worried about Serena’s baby?” “Of course I’m worried about you!” Dominic answered instantly, without a shred of hesitation. “A mere fetus cannot compare to you. Vivian, you have to know, you are my only treasure!” Yes. When the entire world had turned its back on me, Dominic was the only one who had stood by my side. My heart trembled violently. But in the next second, a sweet, playful female voice echoed from down the hall. “I’m so sorry, Dominic! I overslept a little. I hope I didn’t ruin your morning schedule.” That voice. I knew it all too well. I whipped my head around and saw the woman I hated down to my very bones. Serena walked toward us. Her words apologized, but her face held no remorse. Instead, she playfully stuck her tongue out at Dominic. “Good morning, Mr. CEO! Your personal secretary is officially on duty!” Serena. My brain felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. I looked back at Dominic. I fought with everything I had to keep my voice from cracking. “Dominic, you said you could explain everything. Then explain this. How is she here?” “You swore to me you blacklisted her from the entire industry. Is this your version of blacklisting? Hiring her as your personal secretary?”

I had once naively believed that Dominic was the only light left in my dark life. After all, the year my mother was driven to suicide. The year I was driven to a miscarriage in utter despair. The year my own father took the side of his mistress’s daughter and told me to stop throwing tantrums. It was Dominic—the rival who had always clashed with me—who had forced Julian to kneel before me. Dominic had forced him to slap himself a hundred times to apologize to me and my dead child. It was Dominic who had thrown down billions to banish Serena and her mistress mother from New York, forcing them back to their trashy hometown. And it was Dominic who had stayed by my side through my severe clinical depression for three long years, slowly piecing my broken soul back together. “If all of that was a lie… then what was real?” I whispered to myself. The physical symptoms of my trauma—the severe shaking and nausea—returned instantly. My entire body trembled uncontrollably. “Don’t do this, Vivian. Calm down! I didn’t lie to you about those things! Everything I did for you was real!” Dominic stepped forward, desperately trying to hold my shoulders. He knew my triggers better than anyone. But now, his intimate knowledge of my pain felt like a sharp blade twisting in my chest. I stared at his familiar yet suddenly foreign face, my fingernails digging into the fabric of his expensive suit. “Dominic, even now, you’re still trying to play me?” “I’m not playing you.” Dominic let me claw at him, his eyes frantically scanning my stomach. “Vivian, it’s not what you think!” Unfortunately for him, I was no longer the stupid girl who trusted him blindly. I shoved him away and pointed directly at Serena. “Then prove it! Prove you’re not lying to me! Kick her out right now!” I knew I was being pathetic. Even if he kicked her out, what would it prove? A lie was still a lie. But if I didn’t scream, if I didn’t vent, I felt like I would suffocate and die in the next second. Yet, the man who had promised to protect me forever stood his ground. He did not move. “I’m sorry, Vivian. I can’t do that. Serena is innocent in this.” “Serena… innocent?” I let out a hysterical laugh. “Haha… innocent…” Seeing that I was on the verge of a total breakdown, Dominic finally let out a long sigh. “When I stood up for you back then, it was because I mistakenly thought you were the girl who saved my life. But I was wrong.” “Twenty-five years ago, before the Hale family took me in, I was starving on the freezing streets of Chicago.” “A little girl wearing a red velvet ribbon in her hair gave me three mango cupcakes.” “That girl was Serena.” Twenty-five years ago. A red ribbon. A freezing street. Three cupcakes. My mind flashed back to a snowy, freezing night from my childhood. A sharp, physical pain shot through my head, and I closed my eyes. “Dominic… what if I told you that the little girl was me?” “Vivian, have you no shame?!” Julian interrupted, sneering at me from his height. “Are you so desperate that you’re trying to steal Serena’s history now?” He was the one who had ruined my life, yet in his eyes, I was always the villain. “Vivian, can you stop acting crazy for once?” Dominic sighed, looking as though a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. Twenty-five years ago, I was stranded in Chicago. You grew up in New York. Tell me, how did you magically travel hundreds of miles just to save me?” “Don’t blame me for this. Because of your lies, I almost drove my actual savior to her grave.” “That’s why I got angry. That’s why I used the fake marriage and the fake trust fund to punish you.” “It’s only fair.” Yes. Fair. “Did you ever bother to ask *why* Serena was in Chicago back then?” I closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe I had to rip open my mother’s deepest, most painful scar just to prove the truth. “I was in Chicago because my father bought a secret townhouse to hide his mistress and her bastard daughter there! My mother found out, and she dragged me across states in the middle of a blizzard just to catch them red-handed!” The snow that year was so cold. And the tiny bit of warmth I had given to a starving boy had ultimately turned into a bucket of ice water, poured over my freezing body.

“Vivian, stop lying to yourself.” Dominic reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead with a look of pity. “I forgot to tell you. The cupcakes the little girl gave me were mango-flavored.” “You are highly allergic to mangoes, Vivian. The only one who loves mango cupcakes is Serena.” Right. The entire world catered to Serena, so why wouldn’t my father? My father had completely forgotten about my life-threatening allergy. He had bought those mango cupcakes to please Serena, and then handed them to me to soothe his own guilt! But before I could speak, Serena stepped forward. Tears welled up in her eyes, making her look incredibly fragile. “It’s okay, Dominic. Let’s just say Vivian saved you. I don’t mind. I won’t hold a grudge against my sister.” “These past few years of happiness were stolen anyway. As long as Vivian is willing to give birth to Julian’s and my child, I’d gladly step aside.” The moment she said those words, both men’s expressions changed. Julian immediately pulled her behind his back, glaring at me. “Vivian, you hurt Serena six years ago. I won’t let you touch her again!” Dominic gently coaxed her, his tone identical to the one he used to use on me. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Your child will come into this world safely.” With just a few words, they stripped away my right to speak. I suddenly felt incredibly tired. At this point, words had lost all meaning. Serena stood protected by two of the most powerful men in the city. A triumphant gleam flashed in her eyes, but when she looked at me standing there like a statue, she quickly masked it with terror. “But… I’m so scared,” Serena whimpered. “I’m scared Vivian will run to a shady clinic and abort the baby just to get revenge on me.” “An eight-month-old baby can survive outside the womb now.” Julian immediately chimed in, “She’s right, Uncle Dominic. The baby is eight months along. Why don’t we just schedule a C-section today? That way, Serena doesn’t have to live in fear.” “No! Dominic, do you hear me?! I will not give birth to this child! I’d rather die!” I screamed, lunging forward to grab Dominic’s sleeve. Dominic remained silent for a long time. His eyes shifted from my frantic face to Serena’s tear-stained cheeks. After a moment of hesitation, he slowly but firmly pulled his sleeve out of my grip. “Be good, Vivian. It won’t hurt.” At that moment, my heart completely died. Under Julian’s arrangement, a private hospital was booked. The surgery was scheduled for 3:00 PM that very afternoon. I only had four hours. Julian even hired two muscular bodyguards to watch me, ensuring I couldn’t escape. Serena pretend to plead for me, but under her “merciful” suggestion, my ankles were fitted with heavy, humiliating electronic shackles. Dominic watched the entire thing and said nothing. His silence was his approval. Locked inside a windowless, soundproof hospital room, I was treated like livestock, waiting to be dragged onto an operating table to have my stomach sliced open. Three hours before the surgery, my father arrived. He brought legal documents stripping me of my inheritance and transferring everything to Serena. From this day forward, Serena was no longer the shameful bastard child. And I was erased from the family tree, reduced to a nameless nobody. Two hours before the surgery, Serena came to my room. Since we were alone, she didn’t bother pretending anymore. A smug, vicious smile spread across her face. “My dear sister, when you and your dead mother drove my mom and me out of New York, did you ever think you’d end up like this?” “To thank you for carrying my baby, I’ve prepared a very special gift for you.” “The moment the baby is born, the doctors will inject a heavy dose of a psychotropic drug into your system. You will go completely mad. You will try to strangle the baby with your own hands, and Dominic and Julian will watch. They will despise you forever, and you will spend the rest of your miserable life in an asylum.” “How is it? Isn’t the script I wrote for you perfect?” The room was perfectly soundproofed, so she spoke without any fear. I actually found it amusing. “If I strangle the baby, won’t you lose the child you claim to love so much?” Serena laughed. “Who cares? If the kid is smart, it should be glad to die to help its mother.” “Did you honestly think I care about a stupid baby? Please.” “The first baby I lost six years ago? I aborted it myself just to frame you. You, of all people, should know how far I’m willing to go.” I didn’t say another word. I just sat there quietly, preparing my own gift for her. I only hoped she would be able to handle it.

Julian walked in fifteen minutes before the scheduled surgery. He looked at me, his eyes still filled with arrogant disdain. “Vivian, once you deliver this child, you and Serena are even.” “I hope you have some self-awareness and stay away from me. The only woman I’ve ever loved is Serena—a pure, kind angel. Not a venomous snake like you.” Leaving those parting words, he walked out. Dominic was the last to arrive, barely minutes before they pushed my gurney. He brought a thick stack of legal documents. They were the exact same trust fund papers he had given me on our wedding day. Only this time, the notary stamps were real. Dominic held my hand, his voice laced with what sounded like genuine guilt. “Vivian, these are the billions in trust I promised you. I’m officially transferring them to you today. I hope it’s not too late.” “Promise me you’ll deliver the baby safely.” “Once it’s over, we will get legally married. Okay?” Was he trying to bribe me into compliance, or did he genuinely want a future with me? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care anymore. I gave him a sweet, gentle smile. “Okay.” But he had no idea. We had no future left. The heavy double doors of the operating room slammed shut. Serena exchanged a subtle nod with the head surgeon she had bribed, signaling that everything was going according to plan. A triumphant smirk played on her lips. But the moment she turned back to Julian and Dominic, her face fell into a mask of pure agony. “Julian… Dominic… my stomach suddenly hurts so much. Can you guys please walk me to the OB-GYN clinic downstairs?” Julian, of course, was eager to oblige. Dominic rubbed his temples, refusing at first. “No, you guys go. Julian can take care of you. I need to stay here.” But after Serena whimpered and begged, Dominic finally relented and agreed to accompany her downstairs. Yet, the moment they stepped out of the lobby, a shadow fell from the sky, crashing onto the pavement with a sickening thud. When Dominic saw the face of the broken body, he lost his mind. “VIVIAN—!” A guttural, blood-curdling scream tore from his throat. Dominic sprinted forward, slamming past Serena and Julian without a second thought. He stumbled and fell to his knees in front of my mangled, blood-soaked body. There was blood everywhere. He knelt in the crimson pool, his hands hovering over me, trembling, terrified to touch me yet desperately wanting to pull me into his chest. “Doctors! Get out here! Help her! SAVE HER!” That day, Dominic called in every top surgeon in the state. But he was quickly dragged into a living nightmare of regret. “Vivian, I’m sorry… I was wrong. Please, don’t punish me like this.” The cold, atheistic billionaire did something entirely out of character. He had a crucifix brought to the hospital and knelt outside my ICU room. For three days and three nights, without food, water, or sleep, Dominic knelt on the hard floor, his forehead pressed against the cold tiles, begging whatever god was listening to save my life. During this time, Serena tried to play the role of a caring sister-in-law, urging him to rest. “Dominic, don’t do this to yourself. She isn’t worth it.” In response, Dominic wrapped his hand around her throat, choking her as he roared at her to get out. For the first time, Serena felt a very real, very terrifying urge to kill radiating from Dominic. Terrified out of her mind, she scrambled out of the hospital and didn’t dare utter another word. On the fourth day, while I was still fighting for my life in surgery, Dominic’s assistant found something in the room where I had been held. The moment the assistant saw the object, his face drained of color. He ran back to Dominic, stumbling over his own feet. “Mr. Hale! Look at this! What is this?!” Interrupted in his prayer, Dominic was about to snap, but his eyes locked onto the object in the assistant’s hand. His breath caught in his throat. It was a red velvet ribbon. It was very old and faded. To anyone else, it looked like a worthless piece of junk. But Dominic knew better than anyone. This ribbon was unique. His hand hovered over the red ribbon, shaking violently. He made three urgent phone calls, ordering his security team to retrieve a locked box from his private safe. Fifteen minutes later, another red ribbon was placed next to the one from my room. They were identical. For twenty-five years, Dominic had kept that ribbon close to his chest. It was the exact same ribbon his assistant had just found.

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I have face blindness. If my boyfriend of three years changes his coat, I won’t even recognize him. Because of this, Ethan Vance ordered a custom coat with a giant red rose embroidered on the back. He used to say, “Just look for this rose, and my little blind girl will never get lost.” That was until his childhood friend, Chloe Mercer, returned from abroad. We were skiing in Alaska when a massive blizzard hit. Ethan told me to stay in the cabin while he went to fetch the car. Half an hour later, he sent me a Snapchat: “The snow is too thick. I can’t drive the car in. I’m waiting for you at the corner ahead. Do you see the red rose?” “Chloe is right. If I don’t force you a little, you won’t even try to recognize me.” Bravely facing the freezing blizzard, I stumbled to the corner and finally saw the coat with the red rose. I ran over and threw my arms around him. But when the man turned around, he was a filthy, reeking, drunken vagrant! He pinned me to the frozen ground, tearing at my clothes. I fought with all my might, escaping with a dislocated shoulder. I ran as fast as I could and called Ethan. But it was Chloe’s giggling voice that answered the phone. “Serena, congrats! You hugged the wrong guy!” “I made a bet with Ethan. I told him that if we put his coat on someone else, you’d hug even a hobo. Turns out I was right.” “So, for the rest of the trip, Ethan is going to the hot springs with me. Having you around just ruins the mood anyway.” In the background, Ethan’s pampered, helpless laugh drifted through the speaker: “Alright, you won the bet. We’ll do whatever you want.” Depending on someone carries a heavy price. It’s so heavy that if he hands your only lifeline to a monster, you won’t even have a chance to survive. I clutched my dislocated arm in the freezing cold. This time, I was done looking for that rose.

The automatic doors of the medical clinic slid open. The receptionist rushed over to support me. “Dislocated shoulder,” I told her. The doctor had me sit on a chair and pressed his hand against my right shoulder. “Hold still.” *Pop.* The bone snapped back into place. I gritted my teeth, refusing to make a sound despite the agonizing pain. The doctor wrapped my arm in a sling. “The shoulder capsule is damaged. Don’t lift anything heavy for the next two weeks.” He looked up at me. “It’s late. No friends with you?” “They’re busy.” I took the bill with my left hand. As I walked out of the clinic, my phone screen lit up. Ethan had sent a voice message on Snapchat. I tapped play, and his voice filled the quiet night. “Sere, are you still throwing a tantrum?” “Chloe was just playing a harmless prank. She didn’t mean any harm. Who knew you’d actually throw yourself at a random stranger with your eyes closed?” “Where are you? Stop acting like a child and running off.” “We’re at the restaurant on the third floor. I ordered your favorite dishes. Hurry back.” He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t ask what that drunk vagrant had done to me in the snow. To him, I was just a spoiled, dramatic girlfriend throwing a fit. Chloe’s voice drifted from the background. “Ethan, I want my steak medium-rare. Cut it into smaller pieces for me, okay?” “Sure, babe. Just a second,” Ethan replied to her. Ten seconds later, he called me. I pressed answer. Chloe’s smug voice beat him to it. “Oh, Serena, sweetie, I’m so sorry! If I knew you couldn’t tell Ethan apart from a beggar, I never would’ve made that bet. Don’t be mad at him. He cancelled so many meetings to ski with me. He’s exhausted.” Ethan took over the phone. “You heard her. Chloe apologized. It’s freezing outside, get back here and eat. After dinner, I’ll take you to the private hot springs. Stop making a scene.” I clutched the phone, staring down at my bruised hand. Should I tell him? Should I tell him what I just went through? All I would get in return was a half-hearted apology and a sigh, blaming me for ruining their fun. The pain from my right shoulder surged through my back, leaving me numb. “Ethan,” I spoke quietly. “Yeah?” “How’s the food?” “Pretty good. The seafood here is really fresh.” His tone was perfectly casual. “Find your way back. Hurry up.” I hung up. I went into my contacts and set Ethan’s number to Do Not Disturb. At the clinic’s front desk, I scanned the code to pay my bill. Outside, a snowplow was clearing the driveway. “Excuse me,” I knocked on the driver’s window. “Are you heading to the airport?” The driver rolled down the window. “To the airport in this weather? What happened to your arm?” “I fell,” I said. “I’ll pay double.” “Hop in.” Using my left hand, I pulled myself up into the passenger seat. The plow cleared the thick snow ahead as we drove down the mountain. The cabin reeked of heavy diesel. With my left hand, I cancelled my return flight with Ethan. I booked a new one, paid, and got a ticket back to Seattle on the next available flight.

My flight landed. I returned to our empty apartment. My right arm was still in a sling, the pain throbbing constantly. Using only my left hand, I struggled to unzip my ski jacket. The fabric was torn where the vagrant had grabbed me, the collar and hem stained with dried, dark red blood. I stuffed the ruined jacket into a black trash bag. The next afternoon. I heard the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door swung open. Ethan walked in and changed his shoes. Behind him came a pair of quiet, deliberate footsteps. The scent of sharp, suffocating iris perfume instantly flooded the living room. I looked over. To my eyes, the visitor’s face was nothing but a blur. But she was wearing the exact beige coat I always wore, and her hair was tied up in a high ponytail—identical to the way my best friend usually styled hers. She wanted to see if I would mistake her for someone else again. I picked up the heavy black trash bag from the table and walked straight over to her. I let go, dropping the bag right into her arms. “Are you the new maid?” I asked, my voice flat. “Take out the trash. And hand-wash the clothes inside. If they aren’t clean, I’m docking your pay.” She didn’t catch the bag. Instead, she stumbled back half a step. The trash bag hit the floor, spilling open to reveal the torn ski jacket with its dark red bloodstains. “Serena,” Chloe gasped. “You can’t even recognize me?” Ethan stepped up from the hallway. He bypassed Chloe and bent down to pick up the blood-stained jacket. “Sere, how can you not even recognize Chloe?” Ethan draped the jacket over his arm. “She came all this way just to apologize to you. Stop targeting her.” The blood from the jacket stained his clean cuffs. “She dressed up like that and barged into my home,” I said calmly. “I could only assume she was the help.” “It’s just a coat.” Ethan picked up the trash bag, his eyes finally landing on my right shoulder. “What’s wrong with your arm?” “Dislocated.” “From skiing?” he asked. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” “You guys were busy eating.” “I told you to go back to the hotel. Why the hell did you fly back home without saying a word?” His voice grew cold. “Stop acting so childish.” I touched my sling with my left hand and remained silent. Chloe stepped out from behind Ethan. “Ethan, is Serena still mad at me for borrowing the red rose coat?” She played with her sleeves. “Maybe I should just buy her a new one.” “You don’t need to pay her back,” Ethan told her gently. Then, he turned his cold gaze back to me. “It’s just a coat. Do you have to make everyone miserable over it?” He dropped the trash bag by his feet. “Tomorrow, I’ll buy you ten of the exact same coats. I’ll have the dry cleaners pick this one up. Chloe is exhausted from the jetlag. Stop bossing her around.” “Don’t bother cleaning it,” I said, turning toward the bedroom. “Just throw it away.” Ethan followed me, blocking the bedroom door. “What are you looking for?” he demanded. “My documents.” I pulled open the nightstand drawer. I took out my savings book, passport, and ID, shoving them into my canvas bag. It contained all the money I had saved over the years—enough to cover Grandma’s expenses at the care home for the next two years. I slung the bag over my left shoulder. “Take Chloe out for dinner,” I said, walking past him. “I need to visit Grandma at the care home.” “Why are you going there now?” Ethan didn’t budge. “To pay her bills.” “I already paid for six months of her care last month.” “Grandma wants to move into a south-facing private room.” I pushed past him. Ethan grabbed my left arm. “Stop throwing a fit, okay?” He looked down at me, his eyes full of irritation. “We are done with this topic.” I pulled my arm back. “Fine.” Seeing how Ethan unconditionally protected Chloe, it was time to take Grandma and leave. Chloe stood by the front door and chimed in perfectly. “Ethan, I’m starving. Let’s go.”

A day later. I returned home, packed a few changes of clothes, and took a taxi to the premium nursing home in the suburbs. Ethan had funded this high-end facility. When we first started dating, he had pulled strings to secure the best room for Grandma. He had promised to give me a stable home so I wouldn’t have to carry the heavy burdens of life alone. Her room was on the sunny third floor. I pushed the door open. Grandma Evelyn was leaning against the headboard. She suffered from severe Alzheimer’s and was extremely sensitive to her surroundings. As I approached with a basket of fresh fruit, she shrank back into the corner, waving her hands wildly to keep me away. “Grandma,” I whispered, holding out an apple. She slapped my hand away. The apple rolled under the bed. She kept her head down, her thin, skeletal hands desperately clutching her chest. She was holding a worn, tarnished brass pocket watch. Grandpa Arthur’s name was engraved on the cover. She wound the watch, and it let out a steady, rhythmic *tick-tock, tick-tock*. Hearing that sound, her tense shoulders finally relaxed. The nurse, who was changing the IV drip, turned to me. “Her condition has worsened lately. She doesn’t even recognize you. Now, she only responds to this watch. She can only sleep when she hears it. The nurses tried to clean it yesterday, and she literally bit them.” I sat on the folding chair by the bed. I watched her wind the old watch over and over. Footsteps echoed down the hallway. The door was pushed open. I immediately smelled that sharp iris perfume. Chloe walked in first, with Ethan close behind. “Serena,” Chloe walked to the bed. “Ethan said you were visiting Grandma today, so I wanted to join.” Her eyes immediately locked onto the pocket watch in Grandma’s hands. “Ethan,” she gasped, turning to him. “That watch is perfect for the play I’m acting in! The props team has been searching for an authentic vintage piece like this for weeks.” She took a step forward, reaching for Grandma’s wrist. “Grandma, can I borrow this watch for a few days?” Grandma shrank back in terror, hiding the watch under her blanket, making distressed noises. I stood up instantly, shielding the bed. “No,” I glared at Chloe. “You can’t have it. It’s her lifeline.” Chloe pulled her hand back, lowering her head like a victim. “I just thought it was sitting here doing nothing. It would make a perfect prop.” She looked at Ethan. “If she won’t lend it, fine. No need to yell at me.” Ethan walked over. He reached out and gently stroked my hair. “Alright, we won’t borrow it,” Ethan said softly. “Whatever Serena says. Chloe, you’ll have to find another prop.” A nurse knocked on the door. “Miss Serena, Director Miller wants to see you in his office to go over the next phase of treatment.” I turned to look at Grandma. She was still clutching the watch. “Go ahead,” Ethan sat by the bed. “I’ll stay here and watch her.” I walked to the door and looked back one last time. Ethan was leaning over, carefully tucking Grandma’s blanket in. He was tall, blocking most of her small frame, but his movements looked incredibly gentle. I walked to the Director’s office. The director pulled out an agreement, going over the dosage and risks of the new medication with me line by line. I read every word carefully, checked every charge, and signed my name. When I got back to the room, the door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open. The room was silent. Grandma was lying flat on the bed, her eyes closed, breathing softly. The blanket was pulled up tightly, her hands hidden underneath. Ethan was standing in the hallway, holding Chloe’s hand. “She fell asleep,” Ethan whispered to me. “She just drifted off, so we shouldn’t disturb her.” Chloe had her arm slipped through Ethan’s, her other hand stuffed deep in her coat pocket. “Your arm just got put back in. Don’t carry heavy things.” Ethan naturally took the fruit basket from my hand. “Let’s go. I’ll make you some soup back home.” I closed the room door. I followed them toward the elevator. Through the small window on the door, I took one last glance at Grandma. She lay there, completely still. Ethan held my hand, his palm warm. “Don’t come here alone next time,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

It was New Year’s Eve. Outside, fireworks were exploding in the sky, a relentless barrage of noise. Suddenly, my phone vibrated on the table. It was the nursing home. “Miss Serena, I’m so sorry. Your grandmother is gone!” I stood up instantly. “What do you mean gone?” “Her pocket watch went missing. When she woke up and couldn’t find it, she went into a frenzy. She actually broke through the safety restraints. By the time we ran after her, she had already escaped through the back gate.” The nurse was panting heavily on the other end. “A massive blizzard is blowing outside, and the security cameras can’t see anything!” I grabbed the flashlight from the shoe rack and bolted out the door. “I’m on my way.” Sitting in the back of a taxi, I dialed Ethan’s number. “Where is the watch?” I demanded. The background of the call was filled with the deafening boom of fireworks. Ethan was outside; I could hear the howling wind around him. “It’s New Year’s Eve, Serena. What are you picking a fight for now?” Ethan’s voice was completely calm. “I asked you, where is Grandma’s pocket watch?!” I raised my voice, trembling. “Chloe has it. Her film crew is running behind and needed to shoot some extra scenes. She just borrowed it as a prop,” Ethan said casually. “The old woman won’t die without a watch.” “It is her life! She’s escaped into the blizzard because of it!” “Then tell the staff to look for her,” he snapped. “I already had my assistant buy and deliver a brand-new solid gold watch to her. It’s worth a thousand times more than that cheap piece of brass.” “An old woman is easy to comfort. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill on New Year’s.” In the background, Chloe’s voice squealed, “Ethan! Look at that huge firework!” “Careful, don’t slip on the snow,” Ethan called out to her. “Give it back,” I whispered. Ethan went silent for a few seconds. “Do you have to act like this? Chloe is finally having a good time.” He paused again. “I’ll call the nursing home and have them send more people to search. Don’t panic. I’m three hours away right now. I’ll drive back first thing in the morning—” I hung up. Forty minutes later, the taxi pulled up at the base of the mountain behind the nursing home. The snow was knee-deep. Turning on my flashlight, I began searching along the path leading from the back gate. After her stroke, Grandma dragged her right foot when she walked, leaving a distinct trail in the snow. In the distance, the flashlights of the nursing home staff cut through the dark night. I spotted a faint drag mark, half-covered by the fresh snow. Following the trail, I plunged into the deep snowdrifts and headed up the mountain. The tracks led into a dense pine forest. It was 5:00 AM. I trudged through the freezing snow, step by step. I screamed her name over and over, searching frantically. If only I could find her, if only I could give her the watch, she would stop. The tracks abruptly ended near an abandoned, dry concrete reservoir. Grabbing a dead branch for support, I slid down the steep slope into the bottom of the pit. There, curled up in the corner, was a tiny shadow. A thick layer of snow covered her. Her hair and collar were frozen solid. I rushed over. I dropped my flashlight and used my frozen, numb hands to brush away the snow. “Grandma,” I sobbed. There was no answer. Her face was a pale, bluish-gray. Her lips were black. Her eyes were half-open, covered by a thin layer of frost. Her body was stiff. I tried to pry her hands open. Her ten fingers were tightly curled against her chest. When I finally managed to open them, I saw what was inside. It was a stone. It was roughly the same shape and size as the pocket watch. She had clutched that stone to her chest, pretending it was her watch. I sat in the freezing dirt at the bottom of the reservoir, pulling Grandma’s stiff body into my arms. The snow from her body melted onto my clothes, then quickly froze again. Until her very last breath, she was just searching for her only sense of safety. The phone in my pocket vibrated. I pulled it out with trembling fingers and answered. “Did you find her?” Ethan’s voice came through. “It was such a minor thing. Why did you hang up on me?” “Where is the watch?” I asked, my voice dead. “Are you still obsessing over that? I told you, I bought her a gold one.” Ethan sighed. “Did you find her or not? Chloe just found out you were panicking. She’s been crying, feeling incredibly guilty for borrowing it. If you want to scream and yell, do it at me. Don’t freeze yourself out there. And stop making Chloe feel bad.” The snow kept falling. I took the stone from Grandma’s chest. I slipped it into my pocket. Then, I tightened my grip on her cold, stiff corpse. “No need,” I said into the phone. “What do you mean, no need?” “She’s dead.”

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Before the finals of *The Voice*, my wife’s throat was poisoned by a toxic rival. In my despair, I made a deal with a mysterious System: I would give up my own voice and become mute, in exchange for restoring hers. During the five years of my silence, she went from an unknown contestant to a world-famous pop queen, her path paved with flowers and applause. But our meetings became rarer, and her attitude grew colder. Her attentive assistant, her handsome co-star—everyone in her life seemed better than me. Watching her cozy up to the industry’s top male star on national TV broke my heart. Later, when our secret marriage was leaked, she didn’t defend me. Instead, she posted a video telling the world that I was just a delusional stalker who was making her life a living hell. Hunted by the media, attacked by her fans, I touched the bleeding gash on my forehead—a gift from one of her angry shippers—and felt my heart go completely numb. I quietly called out to the System in my mind: “End it. Let everything go back to the way it was.”

Today was our fifth wedding anniversary. Chloe and I hadn’t seen each other in over a month. I had to beg her for weeks just to get her to agree to come home for dinner tonight. It was dead quiet outside. It was getting late. I glanced up at the clock. 11:30 PM. The day was almost over. But Chloe, the other half of this anniversary, was still nowhere to be seen. I unlocked my phone to text her, but a breaking news notification popped up on my screen first. It was the top trending topic on Instagram: #Austin and Chloe’s Steamy New Cover Shoot for WQ Magazine# I knew then that she wasn’t coming home tonight. In the beginning, we were so happy. Chloe and I grew up in the same group home under the foster system. We were childhood sweethearts. I loved to paint, she loved to sing, and we grew up leaning on each other. Our love felt as natural, sweet, and inevitable as the changing of the seasons. The summer after I proposed, Chloe entered a massive national singing competition. She unexpectedly made it all the way to the finals. She told me that the day she took home the trophy would be the day she proudly told the world I was her husband. But a week before the finals, tragedy struck. Chloe, naive to the dark side of the industry, drank a bottle of juice given to her by someone claiming to be a fan. She ended up rolling on the floor in agony, her throat burning like fire. By the time I got her to the hospital, the doctors told me her vocal cords were permanently destroyed. Outside the ICU, I collapsed against the cold, white wall and prayed to any god that would listen. I had never been religious, but at that moment, I would have sold my soul to anyone who could help her. I loved her more than life itself. I was willing to give up anything to save her dream. Suddenly, a mechanical voice echoed in my head: *“Host Logan, I feel your desperate desire. I will offer you a deal: your voice in exchange for hers.”* At that moment, I didn’t care if it was a demon, a god, or a System. I agreed instantly, like a moth to a flame, just so Chloe could sing again. Chloe recovered completely. She won the competition, got signed to a major label, and quickly gained millions of fans and endless endorsement deals. The price? I lost my voice. I could only make raspy, pathetic grunts from my throat. But I didn’t regret it. The day she won, we got married in secret. Even though it was a hidden marriage, I understood. I wanted to protect her career. But things soon spiraled out of my control. Chloe’s fame skyrocketed, and her social circle changed. Two years ago, Chloe and the top pop star, Austin, starred in a reality show together. Their “ship” exploded online, gaining a massive following of obsessed fans. That was when Chloe started staying away from home. They lived and ate together during filming. Chloe told me it was just for the cameras. They went on vacations together. Chloe told me it was a PR stunt to dodge the paparazzi. Even when the entire internet was begging them to date in real life, she told me it was just marketing to promote her new album. I believed her. As long as she gave me an excuse, I chose to trust her. But eventually, she stopped bothering to make up excuses. Her handsome young assistant, Ethan, started driving her home, acting way too familiar with her. When I tried to write down my feelings and ask her to reassure me, she snapped at me, saying I wasn’t as gentle or understanding as Ethan. When I tried to use my raspy, broken voice to struggle out her name, Chloe just looked at me with disgust and cut me off. “Enough, Logan! You can’t even speak clearly. Can you just be mature and give me some space? This is my job. Stop acting like a clingy child, okay?” I shut my mouth. Completely. This fifth anniversary was a date I had practically begged her for. We couldn’t go to public places, but she had promised she would at least come home to have a quiet dinner with me. A FaceTime call suddenly rang, dragging me out of my memories. It was Chloe. I swiped to answer, waiting to see what excuse she would give me this time.

“Logan?” Chloe’s voice was cautious. I didn’t make a sound. On the other side of the screen, Chloe sighed, looking annoyed. But her flawless makeup and stunning designer gown told a different story: she was having the time of her life. My video preview sat in the top right corner. I was sitting in the dark, looking like a ghost that didn’t belong in her bright world. “Logan, listen to me. Tonight is the wrap party for Austin’s first television show. Tons of press are here, and I have to show support. The fans and media are watching my every move.” “I literally had to sneak away to the bathroom just to call you!” I wanted to laugh. She acted like calling me was some grand act of charity. I was her husband. I was the man who traded his own voice so she could have this glittering career. I didn’t want to hear her lies anymore. I typed on my iPad and held it up to the camera: *“So, you’re not coming home tonight, right?”* Chloe nodded, looking exasperated. Even though I knew the answer, a sharp pain still pierced my chest. I let out a bitter, silent smile. Chloe’s brows furrowed instantly. “What’s with that face, Logan? Seriously, do you have to do this every single time? Why can’t you just support me for once?” I felt utterly helpless. I hadn’t even said a word. I had only smiled, and yet I was the villain. A deep, icy chill washed over me. I typed again on my screen: *“It’s fine. You don’t have to come back. Don’t worry about coming back ever again. I’ll come find you tomorrow.”* Chloe lost her temper instantly. “Why are you coming to find me? I told you I’ll come home once this busy season is over! What if the paparazzi spot you? How am I supposed to explain a mute husband to the media? Logan, please, grow up! I don’t expect you to be a powerful connection in my career like Austin is, but the least you can do is stop throwing these jealous tantrums!” I watched her beautiful face twist with anger. Her lovely voice was strained from trying to keep her volume down. I felt completely hopeless. I gave up. I hung up the call. Then, I blocked her Snapchat, her number, and every other way she had to contact me. Exhausted, I leaned back in my chair and whispered in my mind: “System, are you there?” The System’s voice chimed in my head, asking for my request. The pain was gone, replaced by a strange, hollow peace. “I’m tired,” I said in my mind. “End it. Take back what’s mine. Let everything go back to the way it was.” Suddenly, I felt a slight vibration in my throat. For the first time in five years, I felt the wonderful sensation of my vocal cords moving. I let out a low, raspy hum. Tears welled up in my eyes. The System asked one final time: *“Host Logan, are you sure you want to reverse the trade? Once confirmed, your voice will gradually return to normal, and Chloe will lose hers completely. This exchange is permanent. Do you confirm?”* “Confirm.” I wiped my tears away. No more hesitation. It was time for everything to return to its rightful place.

The next morning, before I could even go find Chloe, she was already pounding on my door. And of course, she had brought Ethan with her. I knew she hadn’t come to apologize or to make up for our anniversary. She was just terrified that I would show up at her studio and ruin her image as a glamorous single pop star, which would kill her lucrative PR romance with Austin. “Logan, you are seriously a nightmare! I had to cancel my morning interviews to rush over here. Do you have any idea how exhausting it was dodging the paparazzi?!” Chloe yanked off her sunglasses and mask, looking like a busy CEO who had just graced a peasant with her presence. I was in the kitchen cooking and didn’t bother to look at her. I was done with her attitude. The scent of food filled the kitchen. I flipped the vegetables in the pan. Over the past five years, even though I couldn’t speak, I had used my free time to learn new things. Like cooking. And painting, which I had never truly given up. My cooking was probably the only reason Chloe ever came home. She was a picky eater, but I always found ways to make things she loved. I ignored her shouting from the living room. But the peace didn’t last long. Ethan walked into the kitchen. Despite being just an assistant, he was wearing an expensive designer suit, leaning against the counter with an arrogant smirk. “Well, look at Chef Logan. Long time no see.” Ethan sneered, his eyes filled with mockery. Ethan was the only one in Chloe’s circle who knew I was her husband. He had been with her since her debut. At first, he was incredibly respectful, calling me “sir” and acting very humble. I thought he was a good kid and felt safe having him manage Chloe’s schedule. But as Chloe’s attitude toward me grew colder, he began to show his true colors. I kept cooking, ignoring him. But Ethan wouldn’t stop. He started pacing around the kitchen, pointing at things as if he owned the place. “Is this floor even clean? And this pan looks ancient. Don’t tell me you can’t afford a new one?” He tapped the edge of the pan with his expensive watch, making a sharp, annoying sound. “Logan, I remember Chloe used to praise you for being so neat and hardworking. But honestly, this place looks like a dump.” I remained silent. He was clearly trying to get a reaction out of me, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction. “Why aren’t you answering?” Ethan leaned in closer, pretending to be surprised. “Oh, right. Silly me. It’s been so long, I forgot you’re a mute.” Chloe walked into the kitchen then. She saw Ethan making trouble, and her brow furrowed slightly, but she quickly smoothed it over. “Ethan, why are you in the kitchen?” Chloe’s voice was soft, filled with a gentle tolerance she never showed me. Seeing her, Ethan immediately changed his face. He walked over to Chloe, grabbed her arm gently, and put on a victim act. “Chloe, I just couldn’t help it. The kitchen is such a mess, and I wanted to help Logan clean up.” “But I think he took it the wrong way. And look at this food. You have a cover shoot coming up and need to stay in shape. This stuff is loaded with oil and salt. I just don’t want you ruining your diet.” Ethan looked at her with puppy-dog eyes, acting as if he cared so much about her health. Chloe looked back at Ethan, her eyes filled with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in years. “Ethan, thank God I have you. Go wait in the car and help me check my schedule for the week.” Once he left, she turned to me. I didn’t react, keeping my face completely blank as I continued cooking. My lack of emotion only angered her more. “Logan! What is this silent treatment supposed to be? Acting like you don’t care about anything, playing the victim… it’s exhausting to look at!” “You begged me to come back, and now that I’m here, you’re giving me attitude!” It was hilarious. I had begged her to come back *yesterday* for our anniversary. She had missed it, and now she was acting like she was doing me a favor. She snatched the spatula out of my hand to stop me, but her reckless movement knocked the pan. Hot oil splashed out, landing directly on my wrist. Chloe froze, not expecting that. I looked down at my wrist. A painful blister was already forming. My expression didn’t change. I felt as if my heart had been stabbed so many times that a little physical pain couldn’t even register anymore. Even with me acting this abnormal, Chloe didn’t notice anything wrong. She just gave me a cold, dismissive excuse to ease her own guilt: “Whatever. Ethan is just blunt, don’t take it personally. And besides, a little cheat meal won’t kill me.” Whether it was the superstar Austin or this cheap assistant Ethan, it seemed like anyone in Chloe’s life deserved her kindness except me. A random assistant got all her warmth, while my sacrifice was treated like garbage. I was so, so tired.

The food was finally on the table. I set the plates down one by one. But Ethan, pretending to be clumsy, bumped the table and knocked a bowl of hot soup right onto the floor, splashing everywhere. He immediately let out a dramatic cry, acting as if he had been badly burned. Chloe rushed over, grabbing his hand to inspect it. “Chloe, don’t worry about me. Eat your lunch before it gets cold. We still have a shoot to catch,” Ethan said, looking sweet and harmless. Ethan only had a tiny red mark on his hand—he wasn’t hurt at all. But Chloe still turned on me, screaming: “Logan! How could you be so careless?! Serving food that’s boiling hot!” Her eyes were filled with disappointment and anger, as if I had committed a crime. If I hadn’t dodged quickly, the hot oil from earlier would have covered my entire arm, but Chloe hadn’t cared at all. Yet a fake red mark on Ethan’s hand made her heart bleed. Perhaps realizing she was being too harsh, Chloe tried to justify her anger: “Ethan is my assistant. My career depends on him. It would be a nightmare if he got seriously hurt!” I actually laughed. Her career depended on Ethan, her fame depended on Austin. She always had an excuse. It turned out I was the only one who was completely disposable. I placed the last dish on the table, then slid my phone and a manila envelope toward her. On my phone screen, I had typed: *“Chloe, let’s get a divorce.”* Chloe froze. Even Ethan looked shocked. Seeing the signed divorce papers ready in the envelope, they realized I wasn’t joking. “Are you out of your mind?” Chloe sneered, clearly thinking this was just another dramatic attempt to get her attention. I shook my head, letting her know I was dead serious. Ethan glanced between the two of us, sensing the tension. Chloe never expected me to actually bring this up. “Logan, I know you’ve been feeling neglected, but the romance with Austin is just for PR. If you don’t believe me, ask Ethan. Austin and I are just business partners. Why are you being so jealous?” “Just behave, okay? Once this promo cycle is over, I’ll take you on a trip to Europe to make up for our anniversary, alright?” Chloe offered a half-hearted sweet talk mixed with a warning, expecting me to soften up like I always did. But I was no longer the foolish man who could be manipulated by her empty promises, the man who would sacrifice his life just for a scrap of her affection. Every single thing she had ever promised me had fallen through. The “later” she always talked about never came. Chloe probably thought a few sweet words would keep me quiet and loyal. She looked at me with that familiar, helpless expression, waiting for me to yield. But my gaze was cold and steady. I forced the air through my vocal cords, making a raspy but distinct sound: “Let’s… get… a divorce.” Seeing me like this, Chloe looked deeply annoyed. She told me to calm down, slammed the door, and left. Strangely, the moment the front door slammed shut, the tightness in my throat loosened. I tried to whisper my own name. For the first time in five years, I heard my own normal voice. I knew the System’s reversal had begun.

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On our seventh wedding anniversary, I came home early from my academic fellowship abroad. When I pushed open the bedroom door, I didn’t find a welcoming surprise. Instead, I saw my professor husband, Julian Vance, conducting a “hands-on anatomy lesson” with his favorite female graduate student. “Mrs. Vance, please don’t get the wrong idea,” The girl, wrapped only in our bedsheets, stammered, “Professor Vance was just… helping me with my thesis data. He was personally guiding me…” “Oh? Since when does the Department of Life Sciences require professors to get naked on their wedding beds to guide research?” Suddenly, the girl clutched her stomach and dry-heaved. Julian immediately shielded her behind his back. “She’s pregnant!” he snapped. “Don’t you dare stress her!” What a familiar scene. Three years ago, when I miscarried our child, Julian was busy “guiding students” in his lab. He didn’t even pick up my calls. Now, he was gently cradling another woman’s pregnant belly, glaring at me with pure hatred. “Clara,” he pointed toward the door, “get out. Don’t disrupt our research.” Fine. I turned around, pulled out my phone, and called the Chancellor. “I’d like to report Professor Julian Vance from the Department of Life Sciences for severe academic and professional misconduct.” “Proof?” I looked back at the panicked couple on my bed. “He’s currently in my bedroom, performing a live demonstration. Would you like a FaceTime link?”

For our seventh wedding anniversary, I finished my academic exchange in Berlin a week early. I hadn’t told Julian I was coming home. I was carrying a box of pastries from his favorite local bakery, eagerly imagining the thrilled look on his face when he saw me. Seven years. We went from college sweethearts to husband and wife. We had gone from sharing stale bread in a cramped, rented studio to him becoming the youngest tenured professor in the Department of Life Sciences. I had survived every single hardship by his side. Everyone in our academic circle called us the golden couple. The cab pulled up in front of our apartment building. I looked up at our window. The lights were on. He was home. The moment I unlocked the front door, the unmistakable sounds of heavy breathing and soft moans crashed into my ears. On the entryway floor lay a trail of discarded women’s clothes. Next to them was a man’s dress shirt—the anniversary gift I had bought Julian just last month. My brain went completely numb. The box of pastries slipped from my hand, hitting the hardwood floor and bursting open. Through the half-open bedroom door, two bodies were rolling around on my wedding bed. My husband, Julian, who claimed he was “working late at the lab,” was actually right here, performing a highly primitive “life sciences experiment” with another woman. “Professor Vance… is… is this the right way to do it?” “Right there… feel the rhythm… yes, keep track of that sensory feedback…” Julian’s voice was deep, filled with a raw lust and urgency I had never heard before. I kicked the door wide open. The girl shrieked, frantically grabbing the duvet to cover herself. She revealed a panicked, youthful, and pretty face—Chloe Miller, the graduate student Julian always praised as his most promising protege. Julian reacted even faster. He practically bounced off the bed. He grabbed his trousers from the floor and scrambled to pull them on. “Clara?! What… what are you doing here?!” He was actually demanding answers from me. Chloe, wrapped in my sheets, began to cry, tears streaming down her face. “Mrs. Vance… please, don’t get the wrong idea… Professor Vance was just helping me correct my thesis data. He was guiding my hands-on experiment… we were just doing schoolwork…” Schoolwork? On my bed? As if reminded by her words, Julian straightened his back. His tone turned righteously indignant, as if I were the intruder. “Clara! Since when did you become so vulgar and unreasonable?! How dare you insult a basic academic discussion with your filthy mind?!” My eyes fell on a thick copy of *Molecular Biology* tossed on the nightstand—and the corner of a black lace thong sticking out from underneath it. Suddenly, I laughed. I was shaking so hard from anger, yet a cold laugh escaped my throat. “So, Professor Vance,” my voice was so calm it terrified me, “your academic guidance requires you to strip naked on our wedding bed?” Julian’s face flushed red, then turned an ugly, pale color. Before he could lie further, I unlocked my phone. The screen lit up with a crystal-clear photo: backstage at a major international science conference, Julian and Chloe were locked in a passionate kiss, his hand slid deep inside her formal blazer. “Why don’t you explain this instead?” I stared at his suddenly bloodless face. “Is this ‘academic exchange’ which won you the ‘best collaborative research award’ some new kind of study?” The air in the room froze. Right then, Chloe suddenly clutched her mouth, dry-heaving violently as her face turned pale. Julian lunged forward to hold her. “That’s enough, Clara! She’s pregnant! You can’t stress her like this! If you have a problem, take it out on me!” Pregnant. Those words felt like an ice pick dipped in poison, stabbing straight into my chest. How incredibly familiar. Three years ago, I was pregnant with our child. Because I had spent weeks working late to help him compile his research data, I miscarried from sheer exhaustion. When I called him from the emergency room, he was in the lab “guiding students.” He didn’t even pick up. Later, he only said coldly, “It was a critical moment for my research. Why were you so careless?” And now, he was cradling another woman’s pregnant stomach, screaming at me to protect her. The last warmth in my heart died right then and there.

Looking at his handsome face, twisted with rage and defensiveness, I felt utterly disgusted. He looked like a complete stranger. “Julian,” my voice sounded eerily quiet, “you make me sick.” He pointed to the door. “Clara, get out! Now! Don’t disrupt our work!” Our work. Fine. I turned around slowly, without giving him or the weeping girl another glance. I walked into the living room, my cold fingers dialing the Chancellor’s personal number. The call connected almost instantly. “Hello? Who is this?” “Hello, Chancellor Andrews. This is Clara Sterling, Professor Julian Vance’s wife.” My voice was steady, polite to a chilling degree. “I am calling to formally report Professor Julian Vance for severe academic misconduct, trading grades for sexual favors, and maintaining an ongoing inappropriate relationship with his graduate student.” There was a stunned silence on the other end. “What? Report Professor Vance? Mrs. Vance… are you sure? Do you have proof?” Proof? I looked back at the bedroom doorway. Julian was peering out anxiously, with Chloe hiding behind his shoulder. I spoke clearly into the receiver: “Proof?” “He’s currently in my bedroom, on my bed, giving a live demonstration with his student, Chloe Miller.” “Would you like me to start a FaceTime stream for you?” The phone went dead silent for a few agonizing seconds. I could only hear the Chancellor’s heavy, stunned breathing. “Mrs… Mrs. Sterling…” Chancellor Andrews finally found his voice. “Is… is what you’re saying absolutely true? This is not a joking matter!” “Every word is true.” My voice remained ice-cold. “Both the witnesses and physical evidence are right here. If the university needs it, I can send over photos of Professor Vance and his student hooking up backstage at the conference, alongside a live description of their current state in my bedroom.” “No! Stop!” Julian finally snapped out of his shock. He charged at me like a madman, trying to claw the phone out of my hands. “Clara! You’re insane! Hang up! Do you have any idea what this will do to me? It’ll ruin everything!” I stared at him coldly. “Are you scared now, Professor? When you brought your student to our wedding bed, did you not think about the consequences?” On the other end of the line, the Chancellor clearly heard Julian’s hysterical shouting. “Mrs. Sterling, please stay calm! I am contacting the Title IX office, the Ethics Committee, and campus security immediately! Please preserve all evidence! We are sending a team to your apartment right now!” “Thank you, Chancellor. I’ll be waiting.” I hung up. The living room fell silent, save for Julian’s ragged breathing and Chloe’s muffled, desperate sobbing. Julian collapsed onto the floor like a pile of wet garbage, his hands buried in his hair. “It’s over… it’s all over… Clara… how could you be so ruthless?” “Ruthless?” I looked down at him. It was like looking at a cockroach. “Julian, compared to what you did to me, compared to what you did to our seven-year marriage, this isn’t even the interest on the debt you owe me.” I walked over to the sofa, sat down, and poured myself a glass of ice water. I drank it slowly, waiting. Every passing second was agonizing torture for Julian and Chloe. Chloe began to babble, begging me through her tears. “Mrs. Vance… I’m sorry… I really am… it was Professor Vance… he forced me… he said he wouldn’t let me graduate if I didn’t sleep with him… please let me go… I’m still so young…” Julian whipped his head around, glaring at her with venom. “What the hell are you talking about?!” Watching them turn on each other was truly a beautiful sight. About twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang sharply. I stood up and opened the door. Standing outside was Chancellor Andrews, his face dark with rage, alongside the head of the Title IX office, university legal counsel, and two campus security officers. “Mrs. Sterling…” the Chancellor spoke, his voice heavy. I stepped aside to let them in. “Please, come in. They’re in the bedroom.”

The group filed into the apartment. When they saw Julian slumped on the floor and Chloe shivering under the sheets in the bedroom, surrounded by chaos, their expressions turned incredibly grim. The evidence was undeniable. No explanations were needed. The Title IX officer took a deep breath, walked up to Julian, and said coldly, “Professor Vance, put some clothes on immediately. You need to come with us to the administration office for a formal investigation.” Julian looked as if his soul had been sucked out. He put on his clothes like a robot. Chloe was also told to get dressed and was escorted out. She was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, repeating “I’m sorry” and “I was forced” over and over again. Before leaving, Chancellor Andrews walked over to me. His voice was heavy with apology. “Mrs. Sterling, the university is deeply shocked and saddened by this. We will conduct a thorough investigation, and there will be no leniency. On behalf of the university, I offer my deepest apologies for the pain this has caused you and your family.” I simply nodded. The crowd ushered a despondent Julian and a hysterical Chloe out of the apartment. The place instantly became quiet. Seven years of love had ended in the ugliest way possible. But I knew this was only the beginning. The university’s investigation, the public scandal, the division of assets… A much longer and harder battle was waiting for me. Julian wouldn’t just sit back and take it. His mentor, who cared about reputation more than life itself, and the other faculty members whose interests were tied to Julian, would definitely try to strike back. I pulled out my burner phone—thankfully, I had prepared beforehand. I dialed a number. “Hello? Is this the investigative reporter from the *Academic Watch*?” “Yes, speaking.” “I have an exclusive scoop on a top-tier Life Sciences professor at Bayview University. It involves severe academic fraud, embezzlement of research funds, and sexual exploitation of students. The evidence is solid. Are you interested?” An excited voice came from the other end. “Absolutely! Who am I speaking with?” “It doesn’t matter who I am,” I said, looking out at the dark city skyline, a cold smile touching my lips. “What matters is that the truth needs to be told.” “See you on the front page tomorrow.” The next morning, I turned on my burner phone. Instantly, it exploded with notifications. Hundreds of missed calls. They were from Julian, his mentor, our mutual friends, and even some distant relatives I barely knew. My Snapchat and messages were completely flooded. Pleas, accusations, threats, demands… it was a complete circus. Julian’s messages started with furious threats: *“Clara, you fucking bitch, you ruined me! If I go down, I’m taking you with me!”* Then they turned into pathetic begging: *“Honey, I’m so sorry. I was stupid, it was a temporary lapse of judgment. Please give me another chance. I can’t live without you…”* And finally, desperate curses: *“You cold-hearted bitch! I hope you burn in hell!”* I scrolled through them with an expressionless face, feeling absolutely nothing. Then, Dr. Arthur Lewis, Julian’s mentor, called me. His tone was accusatory. “Clara, how did things get this far? Julian made a mistake, yes, but young men falter. You have to look at the bigger picture! His academic future, the reputation of our department—they can’t be destroyed over a domestic dispute! Why couldn’t you resolve this behind closed doors? Why drag it out to the public and make us a laughingstock?” I sneered. The bigger picture? A laughingstock? My marriage and my life were apparently nothing more than a tiny footnote in their precious “bigger picture.” I opened my news app. As expected, the story by *Academic Watch* was already viral. *“Scandal at Elite University! Vanguard Fellowship Nominee Caught Performing ‘Anatomy Lesson’ on Wedding Bed!”* *“Academic Ethics Shattered! Famous Professor Exposed by Wife for Fraud and Sexual Exploitation!”* *“Leaked Backstage Photos at Science Conference Reveal Shocking Behavior!”* The headlines were incredibly dramatic. Although the faces of Julian and Chloe were pixelated, the background and clothing were distinct. Anyone in the academic community could recognize them in a heartbeat. The comment sections were a warzone. People were bashing academic corruption, expressing sympathy for me, calling Julian a monster, and a few trolls were questioning my motives, asking why I hadn’t reported him sooner. The story was spreading even faster than I had anticipated. But this was exactly what I wanted. To blow this up so spectacularly that the university couldn’t possibly sweep it under the rug. To ensure Julian was completely ruined, with zero chance of recovery. Right then, an unknown local number flashed on my screen. I hesitated for a moment, then picked up.

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I was kidnapped in broad daylight while shopping. When the heavy fog of the drug finally cleared, I woke up in a strange hotel room, bound and terrified. I screamed, fighting with every ounce of strength I had left. Suddenly, the door to the connecting room burst open. My husband, Julian, who was supposed to be away on a business trip, rushed in. He was completely naked, smelling heavily of sex and cheap sweat. In a frantic panic, he untied me and dragged me out of the room. As we stumbled into the hallway, I caught a glimpse of the room he had just escaped. Through the half-open door, a woman was sitting on the disheveled bed, her skin flushed, her clothes scattered across the carpet. I recognized her instantly. Chloe. The college intern Julian’s company had hired at the beginning of the year. The “forever” he had promised me crumbled to dust right then and there. While I was fighting for my life, my husband was losing himself in another woman’s arms just a wall away. Numb and cold, I dialed my father’s number. “Dad,” I whispered, my voice devoid of emotion. “I’m ready. I’m coming home to take over the family empire.” That was it. I was done wasting my love on the wrong man.

“Are you absolutely sure, Sera? If you come back now, you’re starting from the ground up to take over everything. I need to know you’re fully committed this time.” My father’s voice came through the receiver, as warm and commanding as ever. I looked down at the unsigned divorce papers sitting on the coffee table. “I’m sure, Dad. I’ve made up my mind. My career is my only priority now.” My father sighed with relief, though he still had no idea what had finally made me snap out of my domestic fantasy. For the past three years of my marriage to Julian, I had given up my career, put my inheritance on hold, and poured my entire soul into being a perfect housewife. I was the girl he had proposed to thirty times. The one he had chased for five long years before I finally said yes. He had sworn to love me until his last breath. But during our first year of marriage, my doctors discovered I had a severe fertility issue. Getting pregnant naturally was going to be nearly impossible. So, I quit my job to focus entirely on grueling fertility treatments and hormone therapies. Through all those painful years of trying, Julian never complained. In fact, he seemed more attentive than ever. He drove me to my monthly checkups, cooked special meals for me, and held me when the pregnancy tests came back negative. I honestly thought we were going to be happy forever. Today was supposed to be my monthly clinic appointment. I didn’t remind him. Instead, I quietly sat on the lounger after breakfast, flipping through a magazine. Julian had woken up earlier than usual. He had spent the last forty minutes in the walk-in closet, meticulously picking out his outfit. When his phone buzzed on the dining table, I glanced at it from the corner of my eye. “Hey Julian, same place as usual. I want you to cook for me today. See you soon, babe x.” The sender’s name was Chloe. The message burned into my retinas. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. Hearing his phone buzz, Julian rushed out of the closet. When he saw I hadn’t moved, he let out a subtle sigh of relief. He leaned down to kiss my cheek, but a heavy, expensive cologne hit my nose. “Did you change your cologne?” I asked, casually tilting my head away to avoid the scent. Julian’s face didn’t betray a thing. He maintained the same gentle, doting smile he always wore. “Yeah, do you like it? I read online that keeping things fresh is important in a marriage. Scent is a big part of that.” I looked at his perfectly styled hair and his tailored suit. It wasn’t my taste at all. He looked flashier, like a peacock looking for a mate. “The doctor said my hormones are finally stabilizing, but the new medication makes me highly sensitive to strong smells. You should probably be careful with that cologne, Julian. We don’t want to ruin our progress.” During fertility treatments, everything had to be scheduled—even our intimate nights. Maybe he grew tired of the clinical routine. Or maybe he was just a liar. Either way, he had cheated. I brought up the doctor to see if he would remember what today was. He didn’t even blink. He just adjusted his tie and gave me a dismissive smile. “You got it, boss!” “Oh, by the way, babe,” he added, heading for the door. “A massive, high-profile client just landed in town. I have to host them tonight. I have no idea how late it’s going to run, so don’t wait up for me. Get some sleep, okay?” His phone buzzed again. He practically bolted out the door. I knew the truth. Chloe was probably waiting for him, growing impatient. Since the hotel incident, I hadn’t confronted him. Julian took my quietness as trauma from the kidnapping, thinking I was too shaken to notice the obvious signs. They truly thought I was an idiot. But it didn’t matter anymore. His early departure actually made things easier for me. I had someone to meet today. Even though I had told my father I was ready to take over the family business, I had been out of the corporate world for too long. I needed to catch up on the industry. My father had arranged for me to shadow a brilliant young CEO in the city—someone who could help me get back on my feet quickly. Our meeting was scheduled for this morning.

I stood in front of the towering headquarters of the Mercer Group, my heart a mess of emotions. This glass-and-steel skyscraper wasn’t just a monument to wealth; it was the starting gate of my new life. My father wanted me to learn from the best, and there was no one better in the business than the Mercer Group’s young CEO. Ever since I married Julian, I had isolated myself in my own little bubble of fertility clinics and domestic duties. I had cut ties with the industry, only attending the occasional family dinner. Looking up at this bustling corporate world, a wave of anxiety hit me. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, and walked inside. As I stepped out of the private elevator on the top floor and opened the door to the CEO’s office, my jaw dropped. Sitting behind the desk was Christian. My childhood best friend. The brilliant heir to the Mercer empire. He looked stunning. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his broad shoulders and sharp jawline exuding a quiet, effortless confidence. After college, we had taken completely different paths. I had chosen Julian and a quiet marriage. Christian had gone to Europe to get his MBA and expand his family’s global reach. We hadn’t spoken in years. Julian had always been incredibly insecure about Christian, constantly begging me to cut him off because he “couldn’t bear the thought of losing me.” I had foolishly complied. I never expected to see him here. “Christian?” I gasped, my voice trembling slightly. He spun his chair around. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, he just stared. Then, a warm, breathtaking smile broke across his face. For a moment, the years melted away. I saw the boy who used to steal my diaries and chase away my bullies. “Sera,” he said softly, walking over to me. He gently squeezed my shoulder. “It’s been too long.” We sat down, and the conversation flowed as if we had never been apart. I found myself laughing and relaxing for the first time in months. “Your dad called me,” Christian said, his eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and respect. “He told me you wanted to get back into the game. I’m incredibly proud of you, Sera. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you succeed.” “Thank you, Christian. Seriously,” I murmured. He didn’t ask about Julian. He didn’t ask why I was suddenly coming back. He just gave me the safe space I desperately needed. “Come on,” Christian smiled, standing up. “Let me show you around. We have a major board meeting in ten minutes. You should sit in.” I smiled and followed him down the long hallway. But as we reached the double doors of the boardroom, a sudden, violent wave of dizziness hit me. The floor tilted. My knees buckled, and my vision went black. “Sera!” Christian’s voice cracked with panic. Before I could hit the cold floor, his strong arms caught me. Without a second thought, he scooped me up into his arms and sprinted toward the private elevators, yelling for his assistant to get the car ready. I was too weak to even open my eyes. In the back of his car, he held me close, his voice a soothing whisper against my hair. “Don’t worry, Sera. I’ve got you. We’re going to the hospital. You’re going to be okay.” Leaning against his chest, listening to the steady, frantic beat of his heart, a profound sense of safety washed over me. Just like when we were kids, as long as Christian was there, nothing could hurt me. At the hospital, Christian handled everything, barking orders at the staff and getting me admitted immediately. But the doctor’s diagnosis left me completely paralyzed.

“There’s no need to panic,” the doctor said, looking over my chart. “This is just a classic case of severe physical exhaustion combined with a sudden emotional spike during early pregnancy.” “You’ve had a lot of stress today, haven’t you? Your body is very weak.” The doctor turned to Christian, assuming he was my husband. “You need to take extra care of your partner. Given her medical history, conceiving this baby was a miracle.” Christian opened his mouth to correct the doctor, but I beat him to it, my voice trembling. “Doctor… pregnancy? Are you saying I’m pregnant?” The doctor gave me a sympathetic look. “Yes, dear. According to your records, you’ve been coming in for monthly checks. You’re about eight weeks along. Did you really not know?” For three years, Julian and I had planned our lives around this potential baby. And now, when the miracle had finally happened, my marriage was already dead. Christian’s face went pale. The confident, stoic CEO looked utterly devastated. “Doctor,” I whispered, my hands shaking. “If I terminate the pregnancy… how dangerous is it for my body?” Both the doctor and Christian stared at me in shock. “Sera,” Christian gasped, grabbing my hand. “What are you saying? I thought you wanted this more than anything. Is it because of the work? We can delay the training, I can—” I let out a bitter, lifeless laugh. “It’s not about the work, Christian.” The doctor cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “At eight weeks, a termination is surgically straightforward. But… given your severe fertility issues, if you abort this baby, the chances of you ever conceiving again are virtually zero. This might be your only shot at motherhood.” The doctor’s words hit me like a physical blow. Christian helped me back to my private recovery room, but I refused to climb into the bed. I wanted to go home. “Sera, you need to rest,” Christian pleaded, his eyes dark with worry. “Should I call Julian? Let him know you’re—” “No,” I cut him off. Christian was smart. From my question about the termination, he had already guessed what was going on. “Sera,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Don’t carry this alone. Tell me what happened. Let me help you.” I looked at him, my defenses finally crumbling. “Julian is cheating on me. I caught him. We’re getting a divorce.” Christian’s face instantly darkened with a terrifying rage. He stood up so fast his chair screeched against the floor. “He did what? How dare he! After everything he promised—” “It’s fine, Christian,” I said, putting a hand on his arm to calm him down. “I’m leaving him. It’s not too late to save myself.” Christian’s eyes were bloodshot. I couldn’t quite read the raw emotion in them, but his voice was thick with protective fury. “Whatever you need, Sera. I’m here. Just… don’t let me see that bastard. I might actually kill him.” I knew he meant it. But this was my battle to fight. When I got back to the penthouse, I expected Julian to still be wrapped up in Chloe’s arms. Instead, the lights were on. And on the entryway floor, next to Julian’s Oxfords, was a pair of cheap, flashy red heels that definitely didn’t belong to me. From the living room, a sickeningly sweet giggle echoed through the quiet apartment. “Oh, Julian, stop! We’re so bad doing this while your wife is away.” “You’re the little devil who insisted on driving me home,” Julian’s voice laughed, dripping with lust. “And since Sera’s not here, why shouldn’t we have a little fun?” “Hmph. What if she actually gets pregnant? Are you going to dump me then?” “Are you kidding? A baby would just be a headache. You’re the only one who knows how to make me feel alive, babe.” Listening to their vulgar, shameless whispers, something inside me finally snapped. But I didn’t feel sad. I felt… free. Sometimes, realizing you married a monster takes only a single second. Without a shred of hesitation, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to my doctor: “I’ve made my decision. Please schedule the termination procedure for tomorrow morning. As early as possible.” Then, I unlocked the front door and walked in.

I pushed the door open. The atmosphere in the living room froze instantly. Julian and Chloe were tangled on the couch, their eyes wide with panic. Julian scrambled backward, practically throwing Chloe off him as he tried to create distance, trying to erase the thick air of betrayal in the room. I stood there, watching them with a cold, detached expression. Now that I had decided to flush his baby and this farce of a marriage down the drain, I felt absolutely nothing. “Sera! You’re back early. Where… where were you?” Julian stammered, his face turning a sickly shade of pale. I didn’t answer his question. “I thought you had a massive client tonight? That you’d be out late.” Julian swallowed hard, forcing a fake smile. “Yeah, but I missed you too much, babe. I handed the client off to my VP so I could come home to you.” “Is that so?” I let out a dry, mocking laugh. I was so done playing along. Chloe, sensing the tension, stood up and smoothed down her tight skirt, flashing me a sweet, patronizing smile. “It’s true, Mrs. Sterling! We’re all so jealous of how much the boss adores you. Unlike us poor interns who have to drive him home after hours. I’m practically exhausted!” She walked over to me, her eyes glittering with fake warmth. “You really need to tell him to go easier on us working girls! Oh, we should swap Snapchats! We should totally hang out sometime.” “Sure,” I said, pulling out my phone and letting her scan my code. I didn’t want to make a scene. Not yet. I had bigger plans. The moment Chloe left, I sat on the sofa and opened Instagram. I searched for her private account. It didn’t take long to find. Her feed was a curated gallery of her affair with my husband. There were photos of them at boutique hotels, cozy dinners at expensive restaurants, and weekend getaways to places Julian had always promised to take me but “never had the time” for. Every single post was a silent, mocking slap in my face. Looking at their happy photos, I realized I had been a ghost in my own marriage for a very long time. The next morning, the winter sun broke through the curtains, but it did nothing to warm the chill in my bones. I packed a small bag and drove to the hospital alone. I didn’t tell my parents. I didn’t want them to worry. But when I stepped into the clinic, Christian was already there waiting for me. The wait was agonizing. But as the nurse finally called my name to lead me to the operating room, my phone blasted a frantic ringtone. It was Julian. “Sera! Are you pregnant?! Why didn’t you tell me?!” He had found the copy of my lab results I had left on the kitchen counter. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t want this baby,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I’m at the clinic right now. Once the procedure is done, my lawyer will contact you with the divorce papers.” Julian’s voice cracked, turning into a pathetic sob. “What? No! Sera, please! We’ve been trying for three years! You’re joking, right? Is this a surprise? Please tell me it’s a joke!” “I know about you and Chloe, Julian. I’ve known for a while.” Without waiting for his response, I hung up. Within fifteen minutes, Julian arrived at the hospital, frantically screaming my name. But Christian was standing guard at the double doors of the surgical wing, his towering frame blocking him completely. The anesthesiologist administered the drug. My vision began to blur. Through the heavy doors, I could hear Julian’s distant, desperate muffled screams, mixed with the quiet murmurs of the medical staff. I closed my eyes. I said goodbye to the little soul that would never be, and to the man I had foolishly loved. Then, darkness swallowed me whole.

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The diagnosis paper confirming my terminal stomach cancer was still warm in my hand when Ethan Vance threw the divorce papers right at my face. The sharp edge of the paper sliced across my cheek, leaving a stinging cut. “Sign it.” His voice was as cold as ice. “We found a kidney match for Lily. It’s you.” I gripped the diagnosis sheet. My knuckles turned white, but I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Ethan, I’m your wife. You want to harvest my kidney to save your precious first love?” Ethan looked at me with pure disgust. “Chloe, stop acting so noble. If you hadn’t set me up all those years ago, I would never have married you.” “Lily is sick because of me. You owe her this.” I owed her? I was the one who dragged him out of that raging fire. I was the one who inhaled so much toxic smoke that my vocal cords were permanently damaged. But Lily was simply the one who wore my jacket and sat by his hospital bed crying when he woke up. I crumpled my diagnosis paper into a tight ball, squeezing it in my palm. “And what if I say no?” Ethan grabbed my jaw, squeezing so hard I thought my bones would shatter. “Then I’ll throw you in prison. Trust me, Chloe, I have a million ways to make your life a living hell.” “Don’t push me to do this the hard way.” Looking into his ruthless eyes, the last flickering spark of hope in my heart died.

I didn’t even make it to prison. Because Lily couldn’t wait that long. I was kidnapped and tied up inside an abandoned shipping container by the ocean. Lily was standing in front of me, wearing a pristine white designer dress. Her makeup was flawless. She didn’t even need her wheelchair. She looked down at me as I hung suspended over the edge, laughing like a lunatic. “Chloe, I absolutely despise your eyes.” “Did you know? Every time Ethan looks at you, he gets distracted.” I spat out a mouthful of blood. “So what? Are you going to gouge them out?” Lily knelt down, tracing a scalpel just millimeters away from my face. “Not just your eyes.” “I want him to watch you die. I want him to see you die like a dog right in front of him.” “Only if your death is horrific—and only if he believes you died because he refused to save you—will he feel guilty. He will remember forever how much I suffered for him.” This woman was completely insane. Suddenly, a phone rang. It was a FaceTime call. Lily answered it, and Ethan’s panicked face appeared on the screen. “Lily! Where are you? Did that crazy bitch Chloe hurt you?” Watching the man on the screen, my heart twisted in agony. In a split second, Lily switched to a trembling, tearful voice. Her acting was Oscar-worthy. “Ethan… save me! Chloe has gone mad! She’s trying to push me off!” Lily angled the phone camera toward the wild, crashing waves below. She held onto the railing with one hand and held a knife to her own throat with the other. As for me, I was hanging by a rope outside the shipping container, swaying in the wind. The other end of the rope was in Lily’s hand. If she let go, I would plunge into the deep ocean, and my body would never be found. “Chloe! If you touch a single hair on her head, I will ruin your entire family!” Ethan’s roar blasted through the speaker, hurting my eardrums. Battling the howling wind, my voice cracked. “Ethan, if I tell you she’s the one who kidnapped me, would you believe me?” “Shut up!” He didn’t hesitate for even a second. “Lily is too weak to even stand! How could she kidnap you? Chloe, your lies make me sick!” Lily gave me a smug, victorious look, then cried even harder for the camera. “Ethan, Chloe said only my death would make you love her… I’ll give you two your freedom…” “Don’t do anything stupid!” Ethan’s eyes were bloodshot with panic. “Lily, let go of the rope! Let the rope go! Don’t worry about that bitch!” “A toxic woman like Chloe deserves to die a thousand deaths! It’s not worth it!” “Be good, let go!” To save Lily, he wanted me to die. Even though I might still have his… Oh, wait. The diagnosis paper said the cancer cells had already spread. The baby was gone weeks ago. The smirk on Lily’s face widened. She mouthed three words to me: Go to hell. Then, right under Ethan’s watchful eyes, she pretended to lose her strength and opened her hand. “Ah! Chloe!” She screamed in fake terror. I watched the sky rapidly recede above me, and caught a fleeting glimpse of Ethan’s sudden shock on the screen. My body free-fell. The freezing seawater instantly rushed up my nose and into my lungs. In that final moment, I actually felt a sense of relief. Ethan Vance. For ten years, I loved you like a loyal dog. Now, I’m giving you my life back. We are finally even.

The feeling of ocean water filling your lungs is like swallowing handfuls of crushed glass. But I didn’t die. Maybe God thought the joke of my last ten years wasn’t finished yet, and didn’t want me to exit the stage so early. When a passing fishing boat dragged me up, I was lying on the deck like a dead fish. The burning in my lungs clashed with the sharp agony in my stomach. I coughed up a puddle of bloody saltwater. In that moment, I didn’t cry. I just thought: Ethan, since death didn’t want me, we have some serious scores to settle. Three days later. Wearing an oversized, fish-smelling old jacket I borrowed, I pushed open the door to the VIP suite at Mercy General Hospital. Inside, the scene was picture-perfect. Ethan was sitting by the bed, carefully holding a bowl of soup, blowing on it gently before feeding it to Lily. Lily’s cheeks were rosy. She didn’t look traumatized at all. “Ethan, do you think Chloe… is really never coming back?” Tears gathered in her eyes, but her mouth opened perfectly to take another spoonful of soup. Ethan’s movements were incredibly gentle, but his voice was pure venom. “Why bring up that trash? She got what she deserved.” “But…” “No buts. It’s better that she’s dead. Saved me the trouble of dealing with her.” I leaned against the doorframe and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Wow, Mr. Vance. Hearing you talk, one would think she killed your entire family.” The air in the room instantly froze. I clearly heard the clink of the metal spoon dropping back into the bowl. Ethan snapped his head around. The shock, confusion, and fleeting panic in his eyes were a sight to behold. Lily let out a sharp shriek, throwing herself into Ethan’s arms. “A ghost! She’s a ghost!” She pointed at me, her finger trembling. That terrified face of hers was the best thing I’d seen all week. I stepped into the room, leaving wet, dirty footprints on the pristine floor. “Your eyesight must be failing you, Lily. It’s broad daylight. Where would a ghost come from?” I walked to the foot of the bed, looking down at the two of them. “Or are you just feeling guilty? Afraid I’d come back from the grave to drag you to hell?” Ethan finally snapped out of it. He pushed Lily aside and marched over to me in giant strides. His beautiful eyes were webbed with red veins. Not from grief, but from pure rage. “Chloe!” He grabbed my neck, slamming me hard against the wall. The impact sent a wave of pain through my back, and my stomach cramped violently. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. But he didn’t see any of it. He only saw my “wickedness.” “You’re alive?” He growled through gritted teeth, his grip tightening. “How the hell are you still alive?!” I forced a weak, mocking smile. “What’s wrong, Ethan? Disappointed?” “You actually staged a fake death just to scare Lily and get my sympathy! You are sick!” Ethan’s logic was always mind-boggling. To him, whether I was forced to jump or was just trying to survive didn’t matter. What mattered was that since I was alive, I must have been acting. I was using my life to threaten his precious little princess. “Ethan, is your brain made of concrete?” I stared into his eyes, my voice hoarse. “Didn’t you see Lily cut the rope on the FaceTime call?” “Shut up!” He cut me off furiously. “Lily told me! You forced her to let go! You jumped on purpose just to frame her!” “You crazy bitch, what won’t you do just to make me feel guilty and stop the divorce?” I actually laughed. Seriously. Ten years. I loved this man for ten years. And in the end, in his eyes, I was just a desperate, scheming psychopath who would do anything for his attention. “If that’s what you want to believe, then sure. Let’s say I was acting.” I closed my eyes, refusing to look at his disgusting face anymore. “The show is over. I’m tired. Let me go, Ethan.” “Let you go?” Ethan let out a cold, vicious laugh. “Chloe, you scared Lily so badly she almost had a heart attack. She nearly died, and you think you can just walk away?” “In your dreams!” He let go of my neck, grabbed my wrist instead, and began dragging me out of the room. “We are going to the transplant center right now!” I stumbled behind him, my stomach churning so hard I almost threw up on his back. “Ethan, have you lost your mind?” “I’m perfectly sane! Lily’s condition is getting worse. The doctor said she needs the transplant immediately!” He threw a sharp glance over his shoulder. “Since you survived, it must be God’s way of keeping you alive to pay for your sins!” “Your kidney is coming out today!”

Ethan was a man of action. Especially when it came to doing things for Lily. His efficiency was terrifying. I was dragged directly into the examination room. Cold medical scanners slid over my body. Lying on the hard bed, staring at the sterile white ceiling, my mind was surprisingly calm. Terminal stomach cancer. The cancer cells had already spread everywhere. My body was a hollowed-out wreck. Only a blind idiot like Ethan would think I was a perfectly healthy walking organ bank. The doctor reviewing my scans on the monitor started frowning deeply. He glanced at Ethan, who was standing nearby, and hesitated to speak. “What is it?” Ethan asked impatiently. The doctor wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Mr. Vance, Mrs. Vance’s physical condition… all her indicators are extremely bad…” “Especially her stomach. There’s a massive dark shadow here. It looks like—” “It looks like she’s faking it, right?” Ethan cut him off coldly. The doctor gasped. “No, Mr. Vance, this is—” “Faking illness is her specialty.” Ethan shot me a look of pure disgust. “She even forged a terminal stomach cancer diagnosis before just to get out of donating her kidney.” “I’ve seen this show a thousand times.” Lying on the bed, listening to him, I found it almost comical. The bloody diagnosis paper he had thrown on the ground and stomped on that day was now just a “fake prop” in his head. “Ethan, you are pathetic,” I said softly. He spun around, slamming his hands on either side of my head, trapping me against the bed. “I’m pathetic?” “Chloe, let’s see if you can still talk back when the scalpel slices your stomach open!” He turned back to the doctor, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Ignore her fake test results. As long as the kidney match is good, schedule the surgery immediately.” “But…” The doctor tried to protest. “No buts! If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility!” Ethan barked. The doctor shrunk back, terrified, and nodded quickly. Looking at Ethan’s face so close to mine, I suddenly didn’t want to explain anymore. Really. What was the point of explaining? I’d rather let him see it. Let him see what happens when they cut me open, and instead of a healthy kidney, he finds a body eaten alive by cancer. I wondered what his face would look like then. It would definitely be a masterpiece. “Fine.” I met his gaze, smiling brightly. “Ethan, since you want it so badly, take it.” “I just hope you don’t regret it.” Ethan hesitated for a second. He probably didn’t expect me to agree so easily. A flicker of suspicion crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by his usual coldness. “Regret?” He stood up, adjusting his collar. “Chloe, the only thing I regret in my life is marrying you.” With that, he turned and slammed the door shut.

The surgery was scheduled for the next morning. That night, I was kept under house arrest at the Vance estate. This house used to be our home. I had personally picked out every piece of furniture, every single decoration. Now, it was just my prison. The maids avoided my eyes, whispering in corners. The dining table was piled high with a lavish feast. But I couldn’t swallow a single bite. My stomach felt like it was filled with heavy concrete. Even drinking water brought sharp pain. “What? A hunger strike?” Ethan walked down the stairs, a glass of red wine in his hand. He had changed into loungewear, looking less tense, but the coldness in his eyes remained. I put down my fork. “I’m not hungry.” “You have to eat even if you’re not.” He sat opposite me, swirling his wine. “The surgery is tomorrow. You can’t be weak. Lily needs a healthy kidney.” Looking at the greasy food on the table, my stomach did a violent flip. “I can’t eat.” “Chloe, don’t make me force-feed you.” He slammed his glass onto the table. I looked at him, and the last shred of warmth in my heart turned to ash. He truly didn’t care if I lived or died. Even if you raise a dog for ten years, you’d feel some affection, wouldn’t you? But to Ethan, I was worse than a dog. I picked up the bowl, forcing myself to swallow a mouthful of rice despite the nausea. Before I could even chew, a hot, metallic taste rushed up my throat. I gasped, covering my mouth, and ran toward the bathroom. But I only made it two steps before I lost control. Bright red blood, mixed with white rice, sprayed across the polished marble floor. It was a horrific sight. Ethan, who was about to yell at me, froze instantly. He stared blankly at the pool of blood, then at my deathly pale face. For a moment, his mind seemed to go completely blank. “Chloe…” He took a step forward instinctively. “Are you…” I leaned against the wall, gasping for air, blood dripping from my chin onto my collar. “Are you satisfied, Mr. Vance?” I wiped the blood from my lips, letting out a weak laugh. “Is this part of my act too? A fake blood capsule?” Ethan’s fists clenched tightly. He stared at me, something in his eyes cracking. “What is wrong with you?” He rushed over, reaching out to grab my hand. I flinched away. “Don’t touch me.” “You’re dirty.” Ethan’s hand froze mid-air. Right then, his phone rang. It was Lily’s custom ringtone. The man who had looked shocked and almost remorseful a second ago instantly changed his expression. He answered the call, his voice shifting to a gentle tone I hadn’t heard in years. “Lily, what’s wrong?” “What? Your stomach hurts?” “Don’t worry, I’m coming right now!” He hung up, not even glancing back at me as he rushed toward the door. At the threshold, he paused. But he didn’t turn around. “Clean up the floor.” “Don’t be late for the surgery tomorrow morning.” Then, he slammed the door. The moment the door closed, my legs gave out, and I slid down the wall onto the floor. This was the man I had loved for ten years. When I was coughing up blood on the floor, his only concern was that I was messing up his clean marble. But the moment Lily whimpered, he ran to her like a dog chasing a bone. Ethan Vance. Consider this kidney my final parting gift to you.

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On the day of my Mate Ceremony, six Alphas from different packs showed up at my door. They all claimed I was their fated mate, pointing to the ancient mate bonds connecting us. They even produced keepsakes I had supposedly left with them years ago. Kaden, my fiancé who arrived late to the ceremony, didn’t hesitate for a second. Without asking for an explanation, he rejected me on the spot and beat me half to death. The six Alphas joined in, laughing as they kicked me while I was down. I died in that cold, hard dirt. I died not even knowing who they were, or how on earth I could be mated to six different men at the same time. But then, I opened my eyes again. I was back to April 30th. The day before my Mate Ceremony. *** #### “Go to sleep early, babe. Tomorrow, you’re going to be the most beautiful Luna in the world. Love you.” Kaden’s voice faded as the call disconnected. The dial tone echoing from my iPhone made me realize one thing—I was reborn. In my past life, Kaden and I were deeply in love. Before our wedding, he wouldn’t even touch me, treating me like the most fragile piece of glass. But on the day of the Mate Ceremony, when those six Alphas falsely accused me, he didn’t listen to a single word of my explanation. He lashed out, his boots raining down on me. The terror in my heart right now outweighed the disappointment. The most important thing was to cancel tomorrow’s ceremony. I walked down the hallway and knocked on my adoptive parents’ bedroom door. When they opened it, surprise flashed in their eyes. “Yara? Why are you still up so late?” Thomas, my adoptive father, asked. “Mom, Dad, I want to cancel the Mate Ceremony tomorrow.” “What?!” “Absolutely not! I don’t agree!” Martha, my adoptive mother, reacted with strange intensity. Since they took me in, they had never raised their voices at me. They had spoiled me, giving me everything I wanted. Maybe they just thought I was being throwing a childish tantrum. Thomas patted Martha’s shoulder soothingly, then turned to me. “Yara, canceling a Mate Ceremony isn’t a joke. We’ve already invited guests from all over. The feast in the Pack’s banquet hall is ready. We can’t just call it off.” “Did you and Kaden have a fight? You’re being too spoiled, sweetie.” I looked at them calmly. “Kaden is cheating on me.” In my past life, Kaden was not only late to our ceremony, but he also carried the distinct scent of another she-wolf. “That’s impossible. You must be overthinking things,” Martha said, her eyes suddenly turning cold. If this were the past, she would have dragged me to Kaden’s house to demand answers immediately. But now, she was shockingly defensive of him. “Either way, I’m not going to the altar tomorrow. Please cancel it.” My adoptive parents had arranged this ceremony because Kaden was an orphan with no family left to help him. “You cancel it now, and where does that leave our family’s reputation?!” Martha snapped. That line sounded so familiar. In my past life, when those six Alphas accused me, everyone whispered behind my back. Martha had said the exact same thing: *”How could you do this behind our backs? You’ve embarrassed us!”* Back then, I was too busy defending myself to notice how sketchy my adoptive parents were acting. “How about this,” Thomas chimed in, giving me a pointed look. “Since Kaden hasn’t marked you yet, let’s just go through with the ceremony first. If he really cheated, you can leave him later.” Martha quickly nodded in agreement. “I’ve already posted a message in the Pack’s Snapchat group,” I said, my voice steady. “The ceremony is off. If the Elders or the Luna of our pack ask, I will explain it myself.” Without waiting for their reply, I turned around and walked back to my bedroom. Having a second chance at life, nothing was more important than staying alive. This time, I was going to stay as far away from those six mysterious Alphas as possible. I spent the entire night tossed in nightmares. My dreams were filled with shattered images—fire, screaming, and blurred faces. Someone was calling my name, but it wasn’t Yara. I tried to see his face, but it was shrouded in mist. Just before dawn, a howling wolf woke me. The sound was distant, yet it echoed deep within my veins, like a call from the blood itself. I sat up, drenched in cold sweat. The moonlight was blinding outside my window. Suddenly, a chilling premonition washed over me. Those six Alphas… they were already on our pack’s territory. *** ####

Early the next morning, my bedroom door was pounded violently. “Yara! Get out here! You have the nerve to lock your door after doing something so shameful?!” It was Martha’s voice. A bad feeling settled in my stomach. I couldn’t open this door. I peered out the window. To my horror, a crowd had already gathered outside our house. Our apartment was on the first floor. If I jumped out of the window now, I’d be caught instantly. Before I could think of another escape, Thomas kicked the bedroom door open. His face was deadly serious, devoid of any fatherly warmth. “Come out. Now.” I braced myself and walked into the living room. There they were—the six Alphas from my past life. My heart skipped a beat, and my breath caught in my throat. I thought my adoptive parents were going to force me to the ceremony hall. I didn’t expect these six Alphas to hunt me down at my house. Six pairs of predatory eyes locked onto me, tracking me like prey. “Found you.” “I knew you were alive.” “The mate bond never lies.” They muttered, their voices thick with years of dark obsession. Standing in the center of the living room were several elders dressed in black robes. They were the esteemed judges of the Crescent Council, responsible for resolving disputes among Alphas. I recognized one of them—Elder Raymond, the High Elder of the Northern Wilds Pack. Their presence meant this was no longer a private matter. It was now a council trial. “I always thought Thomas’s daughter was a good girl. Who knew she was messing around with so many Alphas?” “Oh, please. Girls like her know exactly how to play innocent.” “None of those Alphas look like ordinary wolves. How did she even hook up with them?” “She probably threw herself at them.” The neighbors’ whispers made my blood run cold. My adoptive parents sat on the sofa, keeping their heads down, too terrified to speak. I shook my head violently. “You have the wrong person! I don’t even know you!” “We don’t have the wrong girl,” the first Alpha stepped forward, his eyes locking onto mine. His name was Greyson, the Alpha of the Grey Stone Pack. He was built like a tank, with spiky grey hair. “Five years ago, you disappeared in the Northern Wilds. Everyone said you died. But I knew you were alive because our mate bond, though faint, never broke. I never stopped searching for you.” The second Alpha stepped up. His name was Silva, the Alpha of the Savage Swamps Pack. His skin was dark, and his eyes were sharp like a hawk’s. He held up a silver chain. “This is the token you left me. You said if you ever disappeared, I should use this to find you. I’ve carried it next to my heart every day.” The third Alpha spoke, his voice deep as thunder. “You have a two-inch scar on your left shoulder. You got it protecting me. That scar carries my scent. The mate bond connects us through it.” He was Logan, the Alpha of the Eastern Ridge Pack, a man built like a mountain. My hand instinctively went to my left shoulder. There was indeed a scar there, but Thomas and Martha had always told me I had it when they found me. “I don’t know you! I’ve been in school every single day! I’ve never even been to your territories!” My friend could prove it! In my past life, my best friend Chloe had gone to look for Kaden and missed this confrontation. Last night, I had texted Chloe on Snapchat that the ceremony was off. She hadn’t asked why; she just supported me. I reached for my phone to call her, but one of the Alphas snatched it from my hand and slammed it onto the hardwood floor. “Who are you calling? Another lover?” he sneered. “Are we not enough for you, you little slut?” “I heard you were getting mated today. I’d love to see what kind of idiot would want a passed-around toy.” “Stop it! I am not the woman you are looking for!” I screamed, watching my iPhone shatter into pieces. Fury bubbled in my chest. “Still lying? You have a two-inch scar on your left shoulder, don’t you?” “And a faint scar on your waist from a silver blade.” “A small red birthmark right below your collarbone.” “And a bite mark on your right wrist—the mark I left on you years ago!” They knew every detail of my body. But I had absolutely no memory of them. Elder Raymond spoke, his voice ancient and commanding. “Little girl, these Alphas are leaders of their packs. They wouldn’t accuse you without reason. If you truly share mate bonds with them, by council law, you must return with them for investigation.” “I don’t!” I screamed. “I don’t even know who they are!” “Then this is indeed strange,” another elder murmured, stroke his long beard. “A mate bond is etched into the soul. It doesn’t just vanish. Unless… your memory was erased.” My heart dropped. *** ####

“If you want to prove us wrong, strip. Let us see the marks!” “Yeah! Take her clothes off!” “The Elders are here. Let them be the judge!” “Strip her!” “Look at her face, she’s terrified!” Before I could react, someone rushed forward and ripped the buttons off my shirt. My left shoulder was exposed to the cold air, revealing the jagged scar. The crowd gasped, convinced of my guilt. A wave of humiliation hit me. I crouched down, desperately clutching my torn shirt around myself. “This is all a coincidence! I don’t know them! Mom! Dad! Help me!” Tears streamed down my face as I looked toward the sofa. But Thomas and Martha were gone. They had slipped out of the room. Seeing that I had no one to protect me, more people rushed into the room, pinning me to the floor. Hands began pulling at my clothes. “Let’s see if she really has those marks~” Dirty hands touched my skin. Disgust and helplessness choked me. I thrashed wildly, but my wrists and ankles were pinned down by powerful wolves. “Sleeping with so many Alphas… what a dirty bitch.” “Who knows how many guys have had a turn.” “Get off me! Get off!” *Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!* Greyson stormed over and slapped me across the face four times. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “You worthless whore! You ran away without a word back then. Do you have any idea how long I searched for you?!” “Enough!” Elder Raymond roared, slamming his staff onto the floor. The ground cracked, and the shockwave threw everyone back. “No physical abuse is allowed in front of the Crescent Council!” Greyson stepped back, but his eyes were still burning with hatred. Humiliation consumed me. I wanted to die. Was I really going to die the same way, even after being reborn? “Yara! You shameless bitch!” Kaden, dressed in his wedding suit, pushed through the crowd. His eyes were filled with disgust. But he was my only hope. “Kaden… please… save me…” “Save you?!” Kaden spat, stepping forward. “You betrayed me! You have the nerve to ask me to save you?!” He raised his boot and stomped on my face, grinding my cheek into the floor. “So you’re the groom,” Silva sneered. “Pity. Looks like your bride likes a crowded bed.” “They deserve each other.” Kaden was shoved out of the living room by the Alphas. “Quiet!” Elder Raymond barked. He turned his deep, piercing eyes to me. “Little girl, I am going to ask you a few questions. Answer them truthfully.” I nodded, tears mixing with the blood on my face. “What is your name?” “Yara.” “Who are your parents?” “I…” I froze. Who were my parents? Were Thomas and Martha really my parents? I opened my mouth, but no words came out. “You don’t know who your biological parents are, do you?” Elder Raymond said softly. “Your adoptive parents found you on the side of the road. And when you woke up, you had no memory of your past. Am I correct?” The three questions hit me like thunder. “How… how do you know…” The Elder sighed. “Because your condition looks like a very old, very dark curse. Someone went to great lengths to erase your past.” The six Alphas exchanged glances. “Who did it?” Silva demanded. “That is for her to find out,” the Elder said, looking at me. “Little girl, are you willing to accept the Crescent Council’s help? We can help you retrieve your lost memories.” “I… I am willing.” *** ####

The Memory Recall Ceremony was held in the Sacred Grove. It was an ancient temple hidden deep in the mountains, its stone walls carved with the totems of the first Werewolves. In the center was a stone altar holding a massive, glowing Moonstone. Four elders sat around the altar, chanting in an ancient tongue. I lay on the stone, bathed in the pale, burning light of the Moonstone. Then, the memories hit me like a tidal wave. When I was eighteen, I hadn’t shifted yet. While other wolves my age were experiencing their first shifts, I remained in my human form. And then, tragedy struck. My parents were killed in an ambush by a rival pack. I became an orphan. But wait—it wasn’t an ambush. A scene materialized in my mind: Late at night, dark figures crept into our house. My father was stabbed through the heart. My mother was dragged into the yard… I was hiding in the closet, my hands clamped over my mouth, crying silently. The fathers of those six Alphas were standing in the yard, laughing. “Is it done?” “Yes. The last of the Lycan bloodline is dead.” “What about his daughter? Don’t kill her yet. Let’s have some fun with her first.” I trembled on the altar, tears flowing freely. The memories continued to flash. I was taken by the first Alpha, forced to be his toy. Three months later, I was passed to the second Alpha like a piece of meat. Then the third, the fourth… Every mate mark they forced on me felt like a branding iron searing my soul. I couldn’t take it anymore. I set a fire, burning their manor to the ground, and ran. I ran through the wilderness for three days and three nights until I collapsed by the road. An old couple found me—Thomas and Martha. They healed me, fed me, and gave me a new identity. But they didn’t know that before I lost consciousness, I had used the last of my energy to cast an ancient lock-curse on myself, sealing away all my memories. Because those memories were too painful. If I didn’t forget, I would have gone mad. The ceremony ended. I opened my eyes, my face soaked with tears. “I remember,” I whispered, sitting up. “I remember everything.” The six Alphas stood below the altar, their expressions tense. “My parents were murdered by your fathers,” I said, my voice echoing in the temple. “Your ‘fated mate’ claims were nothing but you treating me like a trophy you shared. Every single one of you is the son of my parents’ murderers.” Silence fell over the hall. “What proof do you have?” Greyson growled. “Proof?” I laughed coldly. “I saw them. That night, your fathers stood in my yard, deciding my fate. Greyson, your father has a scar on his left cheek, right? My father gave him that scar. Silva, your father walks with a limp, doesn’t he? My mother bit through his ankle tendon before she died.” Every detail was painfully accurate. The Alphas’ faces turned pale. “Even so…” Logan muttered, “that was our fathers’ doing. We… we cared for you…” “You used me!” I screamed. “You all thought I was a willing partner. But ask yourselves—could an eighteen-year-old girl who just lost her family really have a choice?” No one answered. “Enough,” Elder Raymond stood up. “This involves a historical crime committed by six prominent families. This is no longer a simple mate dispute. I order this case to be handed over to the High Crescent Council. Until then, these six Alphas are forbidden from leaving the city.” “What about me?” I asked. “Come with me,” the Elder said. “We need to talk in private.”

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The day before my mate ceremony with James, I caught him in bed with Isabella. He looked at me and said, “I’m sorry, Emily, but Isabella is my fated mate.” I wasn’t even surprised. I just thought to myself: *Like mother, like daughter. A home-wrecker’s child will always be a home-wrecker.* Without a second thought, I took the silver dagger James had gifted me and slashed Isabella’s face. James threw me into the Pack’s dungeon immediately. And my Alpha father, Arthur, didn’t raise a single objection. While I rotted in prison, James married Isabella and became the heir to the Moon Shadow Pack. Three years later, I was released. James assigned twenty werewolf warriors to guard Isabella, terrified I would hurt her again. But he was flattering himself. Like a drop of water vanishing into the ocean, I completely disappeared from his life. Our paths crossed again at my friend’s tattoo parlor. She was away on vacation, and with nothing better to do, I agreed to watch the shop for a few days. His aura hadn’t grown stronger at all. It didn’t look like marking his fated mate had given him the power boost he expected. My wolf, on the other hand, had long since recovered. She was even stronger than she was three years ago. Not that I felt the need to let anyone know. But none of that mattered to me anymore. I spat out my toothpick, tore open a sterile tattoo needle package with my paint-stained fingers, and asked calmly, “Want to get this tattoo removed?” He stepped closer. Sensing my scent, he clenched his jaw and squeezed out, “Emily, this is the matching tattoo we got together.” My hand froze mid-air. “Oh. It’s been a few years. It definitely needs to go.” My tone was so indifferent that James winced. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. After a long silence, he finally nodded. I didn’t say another word. My movements were swift and precise. James’s expression shifted before he finally forced a mocking smirk. “Emily, if you’re strapped for cash, you could have just called me.” “There was no need to post those ads on Snapchat just to lure me to this sketchy place and put on a show.” I smiled, keeping my tone as light as if I were chatting with a random customer. “If I could act, I’d be in Hollywood.” “Besides, you saw that on Snapchat? A regular customer of mine posted that to help bring in some business.” With that, I grabbed a nearby towel to wipe the ink from my hands. James stared at the towel. It was once gray, but now it was faded and frayed at the edges. He couldn’t take it anymore and raised his voice. “Emily, you used to be as proud as a princess!” “Claustrophobia, OCD, germaphobia—you had every single symptom of a spoiled Alpha’s daughter. If there was even a weird smell in your room, you’d kick the maids out instantly…” “And now look at you…” “Hey, Emily! Look at this tattoo, the color’s fading already!” The glass door swung open, and Maggie, wearing a floral shirt, walked in. She threw some design sketches onto the counter. “Sure, Maggie. Leave it here, and I’ll take a look in a bit,” I said, taking the sketches. “It might be an issue with the pigment. Easy fix.” “Alright, I’ll leave you to it.” Maggie patted my shoulder, glanced at James, and whispered, “Got a client? I’ll head out then. Talk later.” After Maggie left, I smiled politely at James. “Well, Mr. Harrington, we’re all done here. That will be twenty dollars, please.” “You…” James stared at me, looking paralyzed. Finally, he pulled out his wallet, grabbed a few hundred-dollar bills, and slammed them on the counter. I looked at the cash and shook my head. “Mr. Harrington, this is too much.” “Keep the change,” James said, his eyes filled with complex emotions. “Redo another tattoo for me. Is this enough?” I was thrilled. “More than enough. What design do you want? I can sketch it up for you.” I dragged a stool over and pushed it toward him. Looking at his expensive, tailored suit, I found a clean cloth and laid it over the stool first. James fell silent. He sat down stiffly, elegant but tense, resting his hands on his knees.

The next second, the squeak of the glass door startled him. “Emily, taking clients during lunch? Business must be good. No wonder you ordered two burgers today. Got a big spender, huh?” It was Leo, the DoorDash guy who delivered my lunch every day. I joked around with him for a bit and took the food. James looked uncomfortable being referred to as a “big spender.” He turned his face away and let out a soft sigh. But this was just how the neighborhood was. Wendy from the nail salon next door popped in to ask if I wanted to go to a bar tonight. Sarah, a white-collar worker living upstairs, dropped off a heavy suitcase, asking if she could leave it here until evening. Amy, a high school student, rushed in to borrow a power bank. They all looked at James with curiosity, their eyes lingering on his expensive clothes. Finally, he shifted uncomfortably and crossed his legs. “Emily, how can you let yourself sink this low? Hanging around with these… humans?” His eyes looked slightly red, though I might have been mistaken. My wolf, curled deep in my mind, let out a lazy yawn, utterly dismissing his dramatic attitude. I just didn’t bother to tell him. “The pattern you want is a bit difficult,” I said, stretching my back and wiping the sweat from my forehead with my elbow. “My friend’s shop doesn’t have the specialty pigments for it. You should go to a larger studio.” I gave him the address of another shop and eagerly opened my food. But James didn’t leave. I felt a bit awkward, so I pushed the fries toward him. “Are you hungry? If you don’t mind, have some.” James’s gaze flickered over my fingers. My nails were permanently stained with ink that wouldn’t wash off. Then his eyes drifted to my burgers and fries. When he spoke, his voice was raspy. “This is junk food. It’s unhealthy… You never used to eat this.” In his memory, I was a picky eater who only ate the freshest meat. If the food was even slightly off, I would throw up for hours. I smiled. “Well, I couldn’t exactly order takeout in the dungeon, could I? Besides, working manual labor all day cured all my picky habits.” “Try some fries, Mr. Harrington. Oh, look, they gave me an extra packet of ketchup today. Score!” I happily took the extra ketchup and threw it into the storage box behind me. The box was already filled with leftover condiments. Sometimes, buying a loaf of bread and using these was enough for a meal. “Enough!” James roared. I startled. The next second, he threw a black card onto the counter. “This is my supplementary card. Take it.” His movement was so violent that he knocked over the stool and almost flipped my lunch. Luckily, my reflexes were quick. I blocked the tray, barely saving my burger. “Mr. Harrington,” I sighed. “If you’re not going to eat, I will…” “Emily!” James growled, his voice trembling. “I’m serious!” “This card is linked to my platinum account. There’s a five million limit. Spend whatever you want.” “Buy a decent shop, start a real business, be your own boss! Stop rotting in this filthy place as a manual laborer!” “Have you forgotten who you are? You are the daughter of an Alpha! The heir to the Moon Shadow Pack!” 2 His roar was deafening, dragging me straight back into my memories. The pack I was born into was powerful. The Moon Shadow Pack was one of the largest rulers of this territory. I was the Alpha’s only daughter until I was seven, when my mother got pregnant with twin girls. But just as we were joyfully anticipating their arrival, my father’s betrayal came right on schedule. He fell for a human woman named Victoria. Their love was loud, chaotic, and destructive. It was so bad that Victoria paraded herself right in front of my mother, demanding she step down as Luna. My mother refused. So, Victoria secretly poisoned my mother with wolfsbane. It took all three of their lives. My mother died with her eyes wide open, never finding peace. Afterward, my father locked me up and starved me for a day and a night, forcing me to forget what happened and forbidding me from telling anyone the truth. Victoria became the new Luna. She brought along my stepsister, Isabella—who was actually her daughter with my father. That was when I realized my father had been cheating on my mother for a very long time. My nightmare began. Beatings, verbal abuse, lies, and constant bullying became my daily life. To survive, I trained relentlessly. I became the fiercest young warrior in the pack. Back then, James was the son of the Silver Moon Pack’s Beta. We met on the training grounds. We trained together and grew up together. But I never expected that during a routine patrol in the woods, two rogue wolves would ambush us. They tried to attack. To protect me, James threw himself into the fight. I was injured while trying to save him, leaving a permanent scar on my chest. That scar was once our sacred vow. He swore he would never betray me. But then, Isabella noticed him. She saw James standing by my side and smiled that bright, innocent smile. It reminded me of Victoria. When she stood next to my father, her smile had the exact same calculating curve. And my dark premonitions quickly became reality. Before I knew it, James was constantly bringing up Isabella. At first, he said she was sweet and innocent. Then, he said she was pitiful, living under our roof. Eventually, it turned into, “Emily, stop bullying Isabella all all the time.” I wanted to have a serious talk with James, but it was the anniversary of my mother and sisters’ deaths. I had to visit their graves first. But when I returned from the cemetery, I walked into a scene I will never forget. Isabella and James were wrapped in each other’s arms in bed. “James, why didn’t you go pay respects to your future mother-in-law today?” Isabella purred. “Her mother doesn’t deserve to be my mother-in-law… If I had to choose, I’d choose yours,” James replied. My mind went completely blank. Blinded by rage, I lunged into the room. I used a silver dagger to slash Isabella’s face. Right after, James locked me in the pack’s dungeon. And my Alpha father didn’t raise a single finger to stop him.

I let out a slow breath, quietly studying the man standing before me. Wealth must be nice. Time hadn’t left a single mark on this handsome man’s face. But it had left me with cracked hands, chin-length hair cut purely for convenience, and ink permanently stained under my fingernails. I gently slid the black card back to him. “There’s no need, Mr. Harrington. My life is fine as it is.” “I have food, shelter, and my freedom. I don’t steal, and I don’t beg. I earn my own living.” But James stubbornly kept his hand extended. “Just take it as… my compensation. Take the money, let go of the grudge, and we can call it even.” I looked at him, slightly amused. The proud James had actually learned how to compensate someone. He used to never bow his head to anyone. “Then it’s even less necessary. I saved your life because you were my fiancé. I went to prison because I assaulted a pack member. We don’t owe each other a thing.” James clenched his fists, his eyes locked onto mine. It was as if he was trying to verify over and over that the woman standing in front of him was truly Emily. Finally, he slowly lowered his gaze, a glint of moisture shining in his eyes. “Emily… you feel like a complete stranger to me.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s been years. Of course I am.” “Back then… I lost control of my emotions,” he rasped, his voice cracking slightly. “For all these years, I kept thinking… if you hadn’t committed that crime, I would have married you out of guilt. I would have treated you twice as well…” I stayed silent, letting the ticking of the clock stretch the quietness into infinity. “Everyone has their own path,” I said, pulling a lollipop from my pocket and popping it into my mouth. “Don’t look back on things you chose to do.” “You—” My blunt response left him speechless. After a long pause, he snapped in frustration: “You haven’t changed a bit. Still as stubborn and hard-headed as ever!” I nodded cheerfully. “My neighbors say the same thing.” “Emmy!” James clenched his fists, struggling for a long moment before suddenly uttering my old nickname. I froze for a split second. The way he said those two syllables was exactly how he used to. Seeing my distraction, his tone softened. “If you won’t accept my money, I can talk to your father for you. You probably don’t know, but he was diagnosed with chronic wolfsbane poisoning. He doesn’t have much time left.” “If you beg for his forgiveness now, you can still get a share of his estate. You’ll never have to work a day in your life…” “Really?” I smiled, genuinely pleased. “Karma finally caught up to him.” Losing his patience after being deflected again and again, James grabbed my arm, trying to drag me toward his car. “Emily, stop being so stubborn!” “Look at yourself! Look at what you’ve become!” “Renting a tiny, dark apartment, doing dirty, exhausting tattoo work!” “Eating junk food! Do you think living like this makes you look cool or independent? Do you think this is going to impress anyone?” “You’re just a bottom-tier tattoo artist! The absolute lowest of the low!” I looked down at myself. My overalls were covered in ink, my hair was in a messy ponytail, and I probably had dirt on my face. I replied honestly: “It’s not that bad. At least my face is clean. Unlike some people…” James flinched as if I’d struck a nerve, his face turning bright red. “Isabella’s face is completely healed! Even with the scars, makeup covers them perfectly!” “But you? You smell like cheap ink, and your hands are rough as sandpaper! Who would ever want you like this!” Right then, the glass door creaked open again. Two kids—a boy and a girl—dashed inside like little rockets…

“Mommy!” The kids scrambled into my arms, giggling uncontrollably. Amidst their sweet laughter, the anger on James’s face froze. “Emily… whose kids are these?” His eyes widened as he scanned their faces, searching for any detail that didn’t look like me. “Did you adopt them?” The kids didn’t like that. My son, Mason, puffed out his chest. “You’re the one who’s adopted! Your whole family is adopted!” My daughter, Mia, pouted and wrapped her arms tighter around my neck. “Mommy, who is this weird mister?” Kids speak the brutal truth. The color drained from James’s face. Even his lips began to tremble. “You… got married? You have kids?” I smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Mia’s ear. “Yes. Twins. I inherited my mother’s twin genes.” “And their father is…” “None of your business.” I kept it short. Then, I gently nudged the two clingy kids forward. “This is… someone Mommy used to know.” “Hello, mister!” Though a bit reluctant, the kids greeted James politely. James instinctively reached into his pockets, probably looking for some cash or gifts to give them. But he realized his tailored suit didn’t have any suitable pockets. Awkward and out of his depth around children, he could only watch dumbfoundedly as they vied for my attention. “Mommy, I learned how to make my bed today! My teacher praised me!” “I helped the teacher wipe the blackboard! I’m better than Mia!” “Mommy, what are we having for dinner?” “Roast chicken! Daddy promised we’d get roast chicken!” I patiently answered each of them, the faint lines around my eyes softening with their laughter. James looked down, his long eyelashes casting shadows over his eyes. This domestic warmth seemed to cut him like a knife. “Emily,” he breathed, “you used to hate noise. You had such sensitive ears.” “Remember? I promised you we’d never have kids because I didn’t want you to be stressed.” The kids were currently fighting to stuff their leftover candies into my mouth. With my cheeks stuffed, I looked up blankly, trying to recall. “Did you? I don’t really remember.” “My husband and I love kids. Honestly, if pregnancy wasn’t so exhausting, he’d probably want a third.” With that, I happily kissed both of my children on the cheeks. James swayed slightly. Before he could speak, his phone buzzed. It was a large folding phone. I caught a glimpse of the caller ID on the screen. [Wifey ❤️] Isabella’s shrill voice came through the speaker, complaining about something. James frowned, his tone laced with annoyance. “I know, I know. I’m coming home. You’re an adult, how can you not handle this…” He said he was leaving, but his feet remained glued to the floor. I gave him a polite smile. “Mr. Harrington, it looks like it’s going to rain. You should head home.” “And if you want to get that tattoo removed, make sure you find a professional studio.” James muttered a quick response, took one last lingering look at me, and hurried out to his car. I let out a sigh of relief and sent the kids to the back room to play with blocks. Then I noticed he had slipped the black card onto the counter anyway. I scratched my head in annoyance. With no other choice, I locked up the shop after closing and walked over to the Werewolf Council office. “A client named James Harrington left his card at my shop. Could you return it to him? I don’t have his contact info.”

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1 Fairness was the golden rule in our house. My twin older siblings, Austin and Katherine, would throw absolute tantrums if they suspected Mom and Dad favored one over the other even a little bit. To keep the peace, everything in our home was divided into two equal shares. One for Austin, one for Katherine. Once, when I was little, I asked Mom a simple question. “What about mine?” Mom snapped at me. “Do you really think we don’t have enough drama with your brother and sister? Why can’t you just be quiet for once?” Then came the day we got a new car. It was a six-seater SUV. There were five of us in the family. On the morning of our big family road trip, I stood outside in the pouring rain, watching them load up. The two extra seats in the back were occupied. One held Katherine’s cat carrier. The other held Austin’s golden retriever. I stood by the open door, shivering and squeezed out. Austin protectively shielded his dog. Katherine rolled her eyes and shrugged. “We agreed on absolute fairness. No one touches my cat’s space.” Dad looked at me with deep irritation as the rain soaked through my jacket. “Don’t you have anything else to do?” Shivering from the biting cold, I forced a small smile. “Actually, I do. I am not going.” I turned around and walked away, immediately pulling up my phone to submit my study abroad application to my college advisor. If the fairness I had waited twenty years for was never going to come, there was no reason for me to keep standing in the rain. By the time I walked back to our empty house, I was soaked to the bone. As soon as I stepped inside, my phone buzzed. Mom had tagged me in the family group chat, asking how I planned to feed myself while they were away for the weekend. For a fleeting second, a warm ache bloomed in my chest, and my eyes welled with tears. I thought she cared. But before I could type a response, her next message flashed on the screen. “Do not touch anything in the fridge. It is fully stocked for Austin and Katherine, split perfectly down the middle. If you eat any of it, you will ruin the balance.” The tiny spark of warmth vanished instantly. I stared at the screen, desperately wanting to reply with a simple question: “What about me?” In the end, my fingers merely tapped out two words. “Got it.” I had asked that question a thousand times growing up. No one ever cared. It was as if everyone, including myself, had accepted that nothing in this house would ever belong to me. I pocketed my phone and searched the pantry, eventually finding a forgotten, stale loaf of bread at the very back. I ate a few dry bites, curled under my thin blanket, and finally drifted off to sleep, cold and exhausted. In the middle of the night, I was violently jolted awake by a heavy, wet bundle slammed onto my face. I gasped, pulling the cold fabric off my head. The hallway lights were blazing, and the living room was a chaotic mess of muddy boots and loud voices. Mom and Dad were grumbling about a sudden storm that had flooded the highway, forcing them to turn back. Katherine stood at my doorway, her arms crossed, glaring down at me. “What are you staring at? Are you deaf? Get up and wash my jacket.” Her designer coat was caked in thick, wet mud. The dirty water had soaked through my hair, leaving a sticky, disgusting residue on my forehead. Blinking away the heavy sleep, I whispered, “Katherine, please. I am exhausted. Can I do it first thing in the morning?” Katherine’s voice instantly spiked. “If you don’t want to help, just say so. Don’t make pathetic excuses!” Austin walked up behind her, tossing his mud-covered sneakers onto my floor with a dull thud. “If you are doing hers, you are doing mine too. Get moving.” Mom walked past the door carrying a basket of laundry, casting a brief, uncaring glance at my disheveled state. She frowned and immediately scolded me. “There are three kids in this house, and we believe in equal contribution. Your brother and sister have been traveling all day while you sat at home relaxing. The least you can do is help with some laundry.” Looking at their demanding faces, I wanted to laugh. It turned out their precious fairness was highly selective. When it came to dividing resources, only the twins got a share. But when it came to burdens, I was suddenly a full member of the family. Without another word, I quietly knelt on the floor, gathered the pile of muddy clothes and shoes, and walked to the laundry room. It took me nearly four hours to scrub the mud out of their clothes. By the time I finished, my vision was blurring, a warning sign of low blood sugar from hunger. I leaned against the wall and stumbled into the kitchen for a glass of water. Just as I poured it, Dad walked in through the front door, carrying a bag of hot takeout. The moment he saw me, he instinctively hid the bag behind his back. A fleeting, awkward smile crossed his face. “The portions were perfect for four, so I didn’t get you anything. If we tried to split it five ways, Austin and Katherine would have started fighting again. Oh, but the place gave us some complimentary roasted peanuts. The twins don’t like them.” I forced a polite smile and gently pushed his hand away. “Thanks, Dad, but I am severely allergic to peanuts.” Dad froze for a fraction of a second, but the realization barely registered. Before he could say anything, Katherine called out for him from the living room. He quickly turned his back on me and walked away. As he walked away, I clutched the kitchen counter, my fingers digging into the wood. A sharp, physical pain stabbed at my heart, but I didn’t even have the energy to cry. After choking down some water to settle my stomach, I walked back to the utility room to sleep. But when I pushed the door open, my heart sank. The small space was crowded with the suitcases they hadn’t bothered to unpack. 2 There was so much luggage that they had run out of floor space. To my horror, Katherine’s dirty plastic litter box had been tossed right onto my bed. My head throbbed with a sudden, sharp ache. I turned around and looked at the bright, laughter-filled living room. Mom happened to glance over. For a split second, our eyes met. I knew she saw my humiliation and distress, but she merely shifted her gaze back to the TV as if I were invisible. This was nothing new. I used to have my own bedroom. But when we were twelve, Katherine cried for weeks because her room was a tiny fraction smaller than Austin’s. To resolve the dispute, Mom and Dad sliced my bedroom in half, turning one side into Katherine’s walk-in closet. Austin had stormed out of the house in a rage when he heard the news. When he returned, the remaining half of my room was converted into his private gaming den. That was how I was relegated to the drafty, cramped utility room, freezing in the winter and sweltering in the summer. Outside, the rain continued to beat against the window, water pooling on the cracked sill. It occurred to me then that I was just like that puddle, something inconvenient, pushed aside, and left to dry up. They had taken my room first, and now they were taking the last square inch of my sanity. I quietly pulled the door shut, locking out the warmth and laughter that would never belong to me. I didn’t sleep at all that night. There was simply nowhere to lie down. Early the next morning, my academic advisor, Mrs. Gable, called me to her office. She had wonderful news. My study abroad application to Australia had been approved. But there was a catch. “Since you are going overseas, the university requires a signed parental consent form,” she said, looking at me gently. “Have you discussed this with your parents?” I squeezed the hem of my shirt, my knuckles turning white. Then, I managed a bright smile. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Gable. I will get it taken care of.” As I walked out of the administration building, I ran straight into Mom. Beside her was Katherine, whose eyes were red and swollen from crying. She was clinging to Mom’s arm, whining loudly. “Mom, it is not fair! Austin got the MVP trophy for his basketball tournament, and I have absolutely nothing. Everyone is going to laugh at me!” Seeing them like this used to make me ache with jealousy. Now, I merely glanced at them and tried to walk past. But Mom suddenly grabbed my wrist, her grip tight and demanding. “Gemma, didn’t you win that national design competition last month? Give the medal to Katherine.” She spoke as if it were the most natural request in the world. “You know how competitive she is with her brother. She will be miserable for weeks if she doesn’t get something to show off.” For a second, my mind went entirely blank. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “Mom,” I whispered, my throat tight and dry. “I worked on that project for six months…” Mom cut me off with an impatient wave of her hand. “I know you studied hard, but what good is that medal doing you anyway? It means more to your sister. If you keep holding onto it, are you just trying to ruin the peace in this family?” My eyes widened. A torrent of suppressed anger and grief rushed up my throat. Why was the peace of this family always built on my sacrifice? What about me? What about my hard work? But then, my fingers brushed against the parental consent form in my bag. The anger instantly crystallized into cold resolve. “Fine,” I said, my voice flatter and colder than it had ever been. “I will hand over the medal. But only if you sign this document right now.” Mom didn’t even hesitate. She grabbed the paper from my hand, hastily scribbled her signature on the line, and turned back to Katherine with a triumphant smile. She didn’t even look at the words “Study Abroad Program” printed in bold letters at the top of the page. Katherine stopped crying and beamed, deliberately bumping her shoulder against mine as they walked away. She cast a smug look over her shoulder. “You should have just agreed in the first place instead of making me cry.” She spoke with absolute certainty, secure in the knowledge that half of everything in this world belonged to her by default. I didn’t say a word. I simply clutched the signed consent form close to my chest like a lifeline. 3 The moment Katherine got her hands on my design medal, she posted a picture of it on Instagram. Naturally, Austin couldn’t let her have the spotlight. He demanded a party to celebrate his MVP trophy, so Mom and Dad decided to throw a joint celebration for both of them. They scheduled the party for the exact day of my twentieth birthday. It was a milestone birthday, and I had been looking forward to it for months. I had confirmed weeks in advance that everyone would be free. But all my quiet hopes felt utterly pathetic now. In the private dining room of the upscale restaurant, Mom and Dad offered me a hurried, dismissive explanation. “We can always celebrate your birthday next week, Gemma. If we don’t do this joint party now, your brother and sister will start fighting again. They are just competitive. Try to be the bigger person.” I forced the corners of my mouth up in a stiff nod. The words “This is likely the last birthday I will ever spend with you” remained locked behind my teeth. The waiters wheeled in a massive, elaborate cake. Austin and Katherine stood side by side behind it, their faces glowing with pride. The room was filled with relatives cheering and laughing. A distant aunt spoke up. “Wait, isn’t today Gemma’s twentieth birthday too? One cake might not be enough for three of them.” Hearing this, Dad immediately stepped up and sliced the cake cleanly down the middle, dividing it into two giant portions. He gave me an apologetic, strained smile. “Splitting a cake into three equal parts is too complicated, Gemma. We will get you your own next time.” I had heard some variation of that excuse my entire life. I should have realized long ago that my parents’ love was a finite resource, strictly reserved for two. There was never going to be a share left over for me. Mom, still worried that I might throw a tantrum and ruin the atmosphere, pulled me aside and told me to help the staff with the dirty dishes and serving. For the rest of the evening, I ran around the room like an unpaid waitress, clearing glasses and wiping tables. During a brief moment of rest, I overheard Mom chatting with my Aunt Sarah near the buffet. “You know, you two really hit the jackpot with the twins,” Aunt Sarah said, sipping her wine. “They are gorgeous and full of life. But Gemma is such a sweet, quiet girl too. It isn’t right to always leave her out.” Despite telling myself I didn’t care, my body tensed. I held my breath, waiting for Mom’s response. A long pause followed before Mom sighed. “You don’t understand, Sarah. Of course she is my daughter, but the twins brought so much joy into our lives. Gemma is just different. She is always so gloomy, never smiling. It is hard to feel close to her.” My hand trembled, and the heavy metal pitcher of boiling water slipped from my grip. Searing hot water splashed across the back of my hand, but the burning pain on my skin was nothing compared to the sudden, suffocating ache in my chest. Before I could make a sound, a pair of warm, frail hands gently took mine. It was Nana. She smiled softly, slipping a delicate silver bracelet onto my wrist. “Gemma, happy twentieth birthday, my sweet girl. I didn’t forget. This is old and not worth much, but I have worn it for twenty years. I want you to have it.” The silver was slightly tarnished, worth perhaps fifty dollars at best, but I knew it was the most precious thing Nana owned. The dam inside me broke, and tears flooded my eyes. I tried to say thank you, but only a choked sob came out. Looking around, I saw several relatives staring, and I felt Mom’s sharp, disapproving gaze land on me. I couldn’t even cry in peace. I hugged Nana tightly, then hurried to the restroom to wash my face and compose myself. It took me a long time to stop shaking. When I finally walked back into the banquet hall, I reached into my purse to check on the bracelet. It was gone. Panic seized me. I rushed back to our table, my eyes frantically searching the floor. Then, my gaze drifted toward the stage, and my heart stopped. There was a familiar glint of silver resting against Katherine’s wrist.

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1 My ex-husband Henry talks to birds. On our divorce reality show, he spent ten hours venting to a sparrow about my suffocating possessiveness and the horror of me constantly wiring him money. Overnight, he became the pampered canary, cashing in on viral fame with streams and brand deals. Jealous, I tried to ride his coattails, only to be mocked by his co-host on air. Can the ex-wife stop clout-chasing? she smirked. Henry came home crying over her. His rabid fan base tore me apart online until I was afraid to check my phone. That night, drunk by my open window, I slurred my misery into the dark, unaware a bird was listening. It flew straight to Henry to report my breakdown. The next day, as his co-host started her stream, a passing flock bombed her perfectly styled hair with droppings. Henry appeared on camera, a smug finch perched on his shoulder. Rumors are trash, he declared, his voice ringing with righteous indignation. We are not a couple. I didn’t even go home last night, but apparently, my ex-wife spent the evening crying her heart out to my birds. … It all started on the show when Henry told the cameras, “My ex-wife is emotionally constipated. She is like a motorcycle; one twist of the throttle, and she zooms right out of your life.” I was so incredibly furious that I chased him out of the interview room, screaming. Our shouting match was captured live on camera as we dragged each other from the set to the backstage corridors. Naturally, the footage of our explosive toxic dynamic spread across the internet like wildfire. To the public, we were the couple most guaranteed to fail the show’s marriage counseling phase. Honestly, I agreed with them. That night, feeling defeated, I went to the director’s office to officially withdraw from the production. But the director looked at me with a strange, amused expression. “Your ex-husband predicted this. He knew you would try to quit tonight, and he asked me to deliver a message.” Before I could ask what it was, the director stood up, placed one foot on his office chair, raised his middle finger at me, and squeaked in a high-pitched, mocking voice: “Ex-wife, you are pathetic! If you want to admit defeat, do it to my face instead of sneaking away like a coward!” After finishing his theatrical performance, the director coughed into his hand, cleared his throat, and offered me a sheepish smile, returning to his usual polite self. My chest rose and fell with hot anger. I turned on my heel, ready to hunt Henry down and rip his hair out. But as my foot crossed the threshold, a sudden realization hit me. If I confronted him now, my pride would be completely ruined. Henry would think I was crawling back to admit defeat. To protect my sky-high dignity, I swallowed my anger, gritted my teeth, and went back to my room. The next morning, filming resumed as scheduled. The producers arranged for the couples to sit face-to-face in a quiet, neutral room to have an honest conversation. A highly perceptive relationship counselor sat between us, tasked with translating our passive-aggressive remarks and untangling our deep-seated emotional knots. Because of our violent history, Henry and I were securely strapped to our chairs with heavy ropes before the cameras started rolling. The crew was terrified we would tear each other apart if left unrestrained. I stared coldly at the faint red mark my palm had left on Henry’s cheek the day before, letting out a sharp, dismissive scoff. Henry ran his tongue over his inner cheek, his dark eyes radiating pure annoyance. We clearly detested the very sight of each other. Even the veteran counselor looked intimidated, struggling to find a way to break the icy silence. Following the script, we were asked to answer the opening question: “What made you choose your partner in the beginning?” I hesitated for a fraction of a second. Henry, however, didn’t hesitate at all. “Because she is filthy rich,” he blurted out. The veins on my forehead throbbed. He had literally treated me like a sugar mama. The counselor cleared his throat awkwardly, turning his gaze toward me. “And you, Kathryn?” I glared at Henry, my voice dripping with venom. “Because he was the cheapest option on the market!” Henry’s eyes flared with anger. He began thrashing against the ropes, practically dragging his heavy wooden chair across the floor. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Kathryn?!” Seeing him lose his cool brought a sudden rush of satisfaction. I leaned back, let out a slow, appreciative whistle as my eyes scanned his tense, well-toned torso, and added, “Well, his body isn’t half bad. Excellent value for my money.” Henry froze. He slumped back into his chair, suddenly quiet, his cheeks flushing a faint pink. “If the love is gone, is it really necessary to humiliate him like this?” An indignant female voice broke the silence. We both looked over to see Hailey, the personal assistant Henry had hired for the show. Her fists were clenched, her eyes burning with fury as she glared at me. The smirk vanished from my face. Henry, seeing my mood drop, crossed his legs triumphantly, clearly thrilled that someone from his camp had come to defend his honor. A wave of discomfort washed over me, but I couldn’t put it into words. Revealing my jealousy would make me feel inferior, so I chose to shut down completely, staring blankly at the floor. As I retreated into my usual silence, Henry’s triumphant smirk faded. He leaned forward as much as the ropes allowed. “Hey, say something.” “Giving me the silent treatment again?” “If you are upset, just say it. Playing the silent martyr won’t make me feel sorry for you.” His gaze was intense, searching my face as he tried to coax a response out of me. “Why are you mad, Kathryn?” My lips parted slightly, my defenses starting to crumble under his persistent gaze. But before I could speak, Hailey stepped forward, cutting off the cameras. She placed her hands protectively on Henry’s shoulders. “Henry, you don’t need to grovel to her!” I closed my eyes, turning to the counselor. “Are we finished here?” Due to the interruption, the shoot had to be paused. The crew rushed over to untie us. I rubbed my sore wrists, stood up without a word, and walked back to my room. I skipped dinner entirely, lock keying myself inside as a heavy cloud of misery settled over me. Had agreeing to come on this show been a massive mistake? I didn’t expect the production team to edit that exact argument and post it online. A clip of me walking away from the table was turned into a viral GIF with the caption: The runaway motorcycle zooms out of your life! In an instant, relationship bloggers and meme accounts flooded the internet with commentary. The producers, realizing our toxic chemistry was a gold mine for ratings, poured more resources into capturing our drama. To protect my pride and avoid admitting defeat, I endured the daily torment of filming. Besides, Henry didn’t have the money to pay the contract termination fee. If I walked away, I would have to cover his fine as well, which was a financial loss I refused to accept. So, I spent the remaining days of filming with a scowl on my face, refusing to engage with anyone. I didn’t say a single word to Henry, mimicking the agonizing silence of our court-mandated divorce waiting period. We were like two strangers occupying the same space. Despite the crew’s best efforts to force a reconciliation, our icy wall remained unbroken. This silent war persisted until the very last day of the show, the final decision ceremony. Henry and I were placed in two separate cars, driving from opposite ends of a long, sun-drenched highway. If we wanted to give our marriage another chance, we had to step out of our cars and embrace in the middle of the road. If not, we would stay in our vehicles, driving past each other into separate lives. As the car began to move, my heart hammered against my ribs. We had been through this cycle so many times. We were like oil and water, constantly clashing, entering cold wars, separating, and then, driven by some inexplicable magnetic pull, passionately reconciling, only to remarry and start the cycle all over again. Our safe held a stack of marriage and divorce certificates, yet we could never seem to end this chaotic dance. This time, I wanted to end it for real. As the car approached the middle of the highway, the host beside me asked, “Kathryn, what is your choice going to be? The viewers are dying to know if this is truly the end.” I ordered the driver to stop. I stepped out of the vehicle, standing on the asphalt under the blazing sun. The heat radiated through the soles of my shoes, making my eyes water. The host beside me gasped in pure shock. “Unbelievable! We honestly thought you would be the last person to get out of the car.” Yes, even I thought I wouldn’t. I was the runaway motorcycle. If I could easily walk away, we would have ended years ago. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have agreed to do this show. I could scream, I could ignore him, but when faced with the absolute end, I simply couldn’t let him go. Just as I prepared myself to spend the rest of my life tangled up with this idiot, Henry’s car slowly rolled past me. The window was rolled down. Henry was resting his chin on his hand, staring blankly at the passing landscape. When his eyes met mine, flushed red from the heat and the sun, his eyes widened in sheer horror. The car didn’t stop. It carried him away, his shocked face vanishing as the vehicle sped down the highway. A dull, heavy ache bloomed in my chest. My pride and dignity lay shattered on the hot asphalt, baking under the merciless sun. I stared at the disappearing car, my throat tight with confusion. How could he not get out? Did he really want to let me go? My voice was dry as I turned to the crew. “Can I go home now?” The host remained dazed for several seconds before quickly calling for a production car to take me back to the hotel. I packed my bags immediately, called a private car, and fled back to my empty house. I shut off my phone, disconnected my computer, and hid from the world. When I finally stepped back into the public eye, it was for the show’s post-finale reunion interview. I showed up disguised in a large face mask and dark sunglasses, looking incredibly ridiculous on camera. Henry arrived a moment later, looking relaxed, with a long-tailed finch perched happily on his shoulder. The sight of him looking so carefree made my blood boil. How could he be in such a good mood while I was drowning in misery? “Look at her,” Henry whispered to the bird on his shoulder. “She is brooding again.” The bird let out a series of cheerful chirps as if agreeing with him. Our usual host cleared his throat, trying to suppress a chuckle as he pointed the microphone at me. “Kathryn, did you… pfft… did you not watch the final episode after you left?” Seeing them laugh at me made me want to rip my mic off and leave, but the crew quickly held me back. “Wait! Don’t go! We aren’t laughing at you. There is a piece of footage you missed after you drove away.” They played the clip on the monitor. The video showed that the moment I had gotten into the production car and driven away, Henry had leaped out of his moving vehicle, sprinting down the highway in a desperate attempt to catch me. When he couldn’t keep up, he stopped, panting heavily as he glared at the camera crew. “She is unbelievable! She is going to be furious with me now. I am officially on death row!” “Why does she have to be so stubborn? She had a resting bitch face for days, so I honestly thought she wouldn’t step out of the car. I figured it was too hot anyway, so I didn’t bother getting out to prove my devotion, but of course she actually got out!” Henry had paced back and forth, muttering a laundry list of nicknames for me: “her royal highness, the drama queen, the runaway motorcycle, the queen of emotional suppression, the unpleasable dictator.” Since the show was over and no one wanted to listen to his rants, he had sat under a tree and complained about me to a flock of sparrows for ten hours straight. His assistant, Hailey, had recorded the entire thing and posted it online, which was how Henry had become a viral sensation. Looking closely, I realized his clothes and watch were significantly more expensive than before. Along with his fame, the internet had started shipping Henry and Hailey, calling them a match made in heaven. Knowing that he was doing well, the heavy knot in my chest loosened. If leaving me allowed him to thrive, then our separation actually had a purpose. After a few brief questions, the crew let me go, keeping Henry and Hailey behind to film more promotional content. Soon, my company was preparing to launch a new product line. The marketing department asked if I could leverage my connection with Henry to secure a brand collaboration, hoping to ride his viral wave. Remembering how much money I had spent on him over the years, I agreed without any guilt, sending a team to pitch the proposal to his agency. Instead of a business response, I was met with a massive wave of online hate. Hailey had started a live stream, displaying our business proposal to the camera while mocking me. “The ex-wife needs to stop clout-chasing,” she sneered. “Henry came home last night and cried in my arms because of her constant harassment.” The internet tore me apart, and the brand’s reputation plummeted. Our public relations department told me that only a direct statement from Henry could save our launch. But since they were working together, I assumed Henry had authorized her stream. Unable to sleep, I sat by my open window, drinking wine and cursing Henry’s ancestors to the sky. I didn’t know his avian spy was listening. The next day, as soon as Hailey began her live stream, a flock of birds descended from the sky, pooping repeatedly on her head. Shortly after, Henry launched a stream of his own, holding up a termination contract. “Rumors are trash, and we are not a couple!” Henry announced. “My former assistant violated our contract by publicly humiliating a business partner for personal clout. She has been fired.” He then held up the familiar finch, offering a helpless smile. “I haven’t even been home yet, but apparently, my ex-wife was crying to my birds last night.” The tide turned instantly. Our product launch was a massive success, and the shipping community went wild over our toxic, chaotic dynamic. I love this messy, obsessive, dysfunctional couple! They are perfect for each other! Healthy relationships are great, but toxic drama is peak entertainment! The runaway motorcycle and her pampered canary, I am begging you to get back together! Eventually, Henry invited me to his studio. It was small, cluttered with samples, and barely had any space to walk. I frowned, looking around. “I have a much larger studio space in my building…” Henry cut me off with a lazy grin. “I am a pampered canary now, Kathryn. If you keep feeding me sugar-mama cash, how am I ever supposed to stand on my own two feet?” He handed me a beautifully crafted birdcage with a bird inside. “After failing a thousand times, I finally found the root of our problem,” he said, his voice softening. “It is not that I am bad, or that you are bad. We just suck at communicating. Communication is key, Kathryn.” I stared at him, startled, as his slender finger gently tapped my lips. “If you can’t bring yourself to say the truth to me, say it to the bird. Nobody else can understand bird language anyway. That way, only I will ever hear your secrets.” When an emotionally suppressed girl meets a man who can literally speak to birds, she really has no escape.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “531870”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel