It was the fifth year of our secret marriage.
At a get-together with old college friends, someone tried to set my wife, Sarah, up with another guy from our class, Jason.
Sarah and I were secretly married, so everyone thought she was single.
Sarah glanced at me, then said, “No.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
But the next moment, Jason abruptly leaned in and kissed her cheek.
“But I really like you, Sarah. I’m serious about pursuing you.”
Amidst a chorus of laughter, Jason, grinning, pulled her into his arms.
I counted to three in my head.
Sarah didn’t agree.
Nor did she push him away.
For the rest of the dinner, Jason practically waited on Sarah hand and foot.
He kept putting food from his plate onto hers. He even put shrimp on her plate, the one thing she was allergic to.
Sarah didn’t even blink, just ate the shrimp.
“Tastes good, right?” Jason asked.
“Mmm, it’s really good.”
Everyone burst into laughter.
“See, Sarah might have rejected Jason, but she’s clearly into him!”
“When William spoke to her earlier, she completely ignored him.”
“Everyone knows what’s up, right? Time to start thinking about wedding gifts!”
Amidst the noisy room, I sat quietly in the corner, not saying a word.
Sarah and I had been secretly married for five years.
She was still in grad school and didn’t want her professors or classmates to know she was married.
“If the professor knew I was married, they might think less of me, believe I wasn’t as academically diligent as other girls.”
I’d agreed to her request to keep our relationship a secret.
Even at this dinner, I deliberately sat at the furthest table from her.
And now I was stuck watching her get cozy with someone else.
“Everyone bring a plus-one to the wedding!” Jason laughed, then turned to me. “William, you should bring your wife too! In all these years, I’ve only seen you post one photo of her on Ins, and it was just her back.”
His tone suddenly shifted, becoming oddly subtle.
“Is she… not allowed to be seen?”
“Or is your relationship… a secret?”
The air froze for a second. A dozen pairs of eyes shot to me, but Sarah didn’t even lift her head.
My heart suddenly ached.
Thinking of the agreement in my bag, a spark of resentment flared.
I asked Sarah, “Sarah, what do you say?”
Sarah froze, her face hardened.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“How would I know anything about you and your wife?”
But her eyes still shot me a warning glance.
“Right?” Jason chuckled, covering his mouth. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. These days, marriage is just a piece of paper, nowhere near as practical as a limited edition watch, right?”
His words were clearly pointed, and everyone around us exchanged curious glances.
Once, I’d accidentally run into Jason at a store. To avoid revealing my identity, I’d lied, saying my wife gave me the watch. I hadn’t expected him to remember.
I gave a small smile.
“Why would I be embarrassed if my wife bought me a watch?”
I asked Jason, “So concerned about my wife, are you trying to poach her?”
Jason’s smile vanished instantly. He almost instinctively looked at Sarah, and my heart plummeted.
Did he know about Sarah and me?
That was even more sickening than him being clueless.
The room fell silent. His voice, when it came, was a fumbling mess.
“William, I didn’t mean anything by it. I didn’t know you were so sensitive about this topic… Don’t be mad.”
He suddenly grabbed Sarah’s small drink, downed it in one go, then started coughing, tears streaming down his face as he collapsed into Sarah’s arms.
Sarah’s brow furrowed, and she turned to snap at me.
“Do you even realize how nasty you sound? Do you think it makes you look superior to maliciously slander someone?”
I stared at her, enunciating each word. “Who started the malicious slander first?”
“He was just curious!” Sarah’s tone was icy. “Do you always have to be so aggressive?”
She shielded Jason in her arms, confronting me across the round table.
But *we* were supposed to be married.
Someone tried to smooth things over.
“William, don’t mind Jason, he’s young and speaks without thinking.”
“Sarah’s clearly on his side now, William. Just drop it.”
“Don’t fight, guys, it’s not worth it. We know you’re not like that.”
Sarah’s lips pressed into a thin line.
That was her tell, right before she exploded.
For a guy like that.
She used to stand in front of me, defending me when I was wronged. Now she was protecting Jason, who’d just slandered me.
Fatigue washed over me, a relentless tide threatening to drag me under.
I was truly fed up with this marriage.
I took one last, long look at Sarah, then turned and left the hotel, leaving Jason sniffling behind me.
Once in the car, I pulled the divorce papers from my bag.
A few days ago, I gave Sarah the rental agreement, and the divorce papers must have gotten mixed in by accident.
She’d signed it without even looking.
All I needed was my signature…
A fountain pen suddenly rolled out of my bag.
Just hours ago, Sarah’s ears had flushed as she kissed me softly in the passenger seat.
She’d said she saw our classmate, Lena, buying one for her boyfriend, so she followed suit.
I’d immediately clipped the pen to my shirt pocket, even though it was a dip pen, something I never used.
That vague, lingering thought resurfaced. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t resist getting out of the car, lighting a cigarette at the street corner.
“Maybe we should talk first,” I reasoned. “Then I’ll sign.”
A whole pack later, the others started leaving.
“Where did Sarah go, anyway?” I asked.
No one answered, instead they started trying to convince me.
“William, we know you like Sarah. But… you have a wife.”
“William, have you considered your wife’s feelings? She even bought you that expensive watch.”
“This is cheating, and emotional cheating is still cheating…”
I took a deep breath and cut them off.
“So where did Sarah go, anyway?”
“Sarah took him upstairs to get a room,” someone said. “Jason was drunk and throwing a tantrum about not wanting to go back to the dorm.”
I looked down at the pile of cigarette butts on the ground, feeling like a complete fool.
Sarah once told me I was fearless, that I’d even try to peek if the sky fell.
But standing at that hotel room door, I felt a genuine tremor of fear.
Once that door opened, there would be no turning back for us.
My phone buzzed. It was Sarah.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded breathless. “I’ll be home late tonight.”
“Who is it?” Jason’s voice was groggy.
“…Just a roommate.”
I couldn’t help but laugh outside the door, but the laughter soon turned to tears.
Ever since I could remember, I’d always known I would marry Sarah.
Our dads had jokingly suggested we’d make a good pair when we were kids. No one took it seriously, except me.
Because I loved her.
So when Sarah’s family lost everything, I still married her without hesitation.
I started from nothing to build us a life, paid off all her family’s debts.
…And then I became her “roommate” while she was hooking up with someone else.
Something inside me truly died.
“Sorry,” I whispered, slowly wiping away my tears. “I can’t do that.”
A cold laugh echoed from the phone. “Trying to lock me out again? How many times will you pull this stunt before you get tired of it?”
“This time it’s different.”
“You think I’ll believe that?”
Her voice rose, cutting through the door and the phone’s static.
I stared blankly at the door, then slowly raised my hand and pressed the doorbell.
“Open the door.”
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The bridal shop called, saying my fiancĂŠ had settled the full payment for the dress.
But the consultant brought out a maternity gown.
The bride on the order wasn’t me, and the wedding date wasn’t ours.
Yet, the signature on the payment? My fiancĂŠ’s name, Alex Caldwell.
I followed the address the consultant gave me and found a photography studio.
Pushing aside the curtain, I saw a young woman, cradling her back, changing her shoes.
She looked at me, frowned, and asked, “Who are you?”
I handed her the bridal shop receipt, asking softly, “The groom’s number for final payment confirmation? Can you give it to me?”
She smiled sweetly and rattled off my husband’s phone number.
The woman cradled her back, her face still covered in bridal makeup, her lips a shimmering pink.
“Are you new here?”
She swept her eyes over me, her gaze lingering on the ring on my left hand.
That ring? Alex gave it to me on our fifth wedding anniversary, putting it on my finger himself. He swore I was the only woman he’d ever give it to.
The consultant stood by the door, too awkward to speak.
The woman suddenly laughed.
“Oh, excuse me. My fiancĂŠ is very thoughtful; he handles all the wedding dress arrangements.”
I crumpled the receipt, then slowly smoothed it out.
“What’s your fiancĂŠ’s name?”
She raised an eyebrow, as if I’d said something offensive.
“Alex Caldwell.”
The photographer beside them coughed.
“Cheryl, take it easy. Stress isn’t good for the baby.”
Cheryl.
Cheryl Greene.
She held a pair of satin white shoes, her feet slightly swollen, her belly visibly protruding.
She wasn’t newly pregnant.
I stared at her stomach, a metallic taste burning in my throat.
Just three months ago, Alex held me, promising that once his company project stabilized, we’d have the wedding ceremony we never had. He said he’d make up for the one he owed me.
Turns out, he gave that ceremony to someone else.
Cheryl lifted a hand to protect her belly, her tone turning cold.
“Who exactly are you? If you don’t tell me, I’ll call my fiancĂŠ over.”
“Call him.”
I pushed the receipt back towards her.
“Call him now.”
An impatient flicker crossed her eyes, and she dialed a number right in front of me.
The phone rang twice.
A familiar voice came through the receiver.
“Cheryl, my love, what’s wrong? Doesn’t the dress fit?”
That ‘Cheryl, my love’ shattered the last sliver of hope I clung to.
Cheryl looked at me triumphantly.
“Some woman came with a receipt asking for your number. She’s being weird.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“What does she look like?”
Cheryl’s smile deepened.
“Thin, wearing a wedding ring, looks pretty rude.”
Alex’s breathing hitched.
“Tell her not to leave. I’m on my way.”
After hanging up, Cheryl put her phone back in her bag, leaning back in her chair like a victor.
“My fiancĂŠ will be here any minute. If you’re trying to con money out of us, you might as well give up now.”
The photographer echoed her.
“People these days, they see a pregnant woman dressed nicely and think they can pull a scam.”
“A pregnant woman dressed nicely” â that phrase made me look at her wedding dress.
The hem was embroidered with delicate pearls, and the waistline was very loose.
I’d seen the regular version in the same store once.
The price tag read eighty-eight thousand.
Back then, Alex frowned, saying there was no rush for a wedding, as the company needed to circulate funds.
I smiled and said it was fine.
But now, he’s used our joint savings to buy a maternity wedding dress for another woman.
Cheryl suddenly touched her belly.
“Don’t worry, baby, Daddy’s coming soon.”
Urgent footsteps sounded at the door.
When Alex pushed through, his tie was crooked, and sweat beaded on his forehead.
His face went white the moment his gaze met mine.
Cheryl immediately stood up, sounding wronged.
“Alex, she scared me.”
Alex didn’t look at her.
Nor did he walk towards me.
He stood frozen in the middle, as if pinned by two pairs of eyes.
I held up the receipt, my voice hoarse.
“Alex Caldwell, explain yourself.”
Cheryl froze.
“You two know each other?”
Alex reached out to grab me.
“Southbrook, let’s talk outside.”
Cheryl’s face changed.
She clutched Alex’s sleeve, her voice trembling.
“Who is Southbrook?”
Alex hadn’t answered when another person walked into the photography studio.
My mother-in-law, Brenda Caldwell, held a food container, her smile freezing on her face.
“Cheryl, honey, Mom made you some soup…”
The food container hit the doorframe with a dull thud.
That one word, ‘Mom,’ ripped the fragile peace of the studio wide open.
Cheryl looked from Brenda to me, her sweet smile slowly crumbling.
“Mom?”
She repeated the word, her eyes hardening.
“You call her Southbrook, so who am I?”
Brenda reacted fastest.
She placed the food container on the table and quickly walked to Cheryl’s side.
“Cheryl, honey, don’t get upset. You’re carrying a Caldwell baby.”
Hearing “baby,” Alex closed his eyes.
I heard myself let out a laugh.
It was soft, but it made everyone stiffen.
Brenda glared at me.
“What’s so funny? You’ve been married five years and haven’t had a single child! Are you going to stop Alex from having a family now?”
She used to only say such things indirectly at the dinner table.
Now, with a pregnant woman to back her up, she finally dropped the pretense of decency.
Cheryl’s expression softened slightly, and she placed her hand back on her belly.
“So, you’re his ex-wife?”
Ex-wife.
I looked at Alex.
“Did you tell her we were divorced?”
Alex’s lips moved.
“Southbrook, I can explain.”
“Explain what?”
Brenda cut in.
“Explain that you’re clinging to the position of Mrs. Caldwell? Explain that you have no family backing you up, and we Caldwells have been generous enough?”
The photographer and makeup artist exchanged glances, and someone at the door subtly raised a phone.
Alex finally said in a low voice:
“No pictures.”
Cheryl, hearing that “ex-wife” hadn’t been denied, regained her confidence.
She lifted her chin.
“Ms. Southbrook, since you two have no feelings left, don’t keep bothering Alex.”
“I’m pregnant with his child, and the wedding is set.”
“One should always have some decency.”
Decency.
Alex and I started from nothing, living in a cramped apartment. The deposit for his first office? I scraped it together by selling the jade bracelet my mother left me.
He drank himself to a stomach ulcer during business dinners, and I spent three nights sleeping in the hospital hallway.
When the Caldwells needed a down payment for a house, Brenda cried about wanting a place with an elevator. I transferred my pre-marital savings to him.
Now they stood before me, lecturing me on decency.
The edge of the receipt cut into my palm.
I asked Alex:
“Are we divorced?”
Alex was silent.
Brenda impatiently waved her hand.
“It’s going to happen eventually. Do you have to make a scene and embarrass everyone?”
“Southbrook, a woman over thirty shouldn’t make herself look pathetic.”
Cheryl gently touched the hem of her wedding dress.
“This dress is Alex’s promise to me and our baby.”
She looked at me, her voice soft as a blade.
“If you like it, once I’ve worn it, I can give it to you as a souvenir.”
Someone around us gasped softly.
Alex reprimanded her:
“Cheryl!”
But the reprimand was too soft, without any real weight.
My phone suddenly vibrated.
The bridal shop manager sent a message, saying the order information needed final confirmation and had sent me the last four digits of the payment card and a photo of the signed receipt.
On the photo, the signature was Alex Caldwell.
But the payment card? It was our joint family card, under my name.
The money in that card was compensation from my father’s property sale, left to me.
Alex had said it was better to put it together for investment, for higher returns.
I turned my phone screen towards him.
“You used my money to buy her a wedding dress?”
Cheryl’s face darkened.
“What do you mean, ‘your money’? Alex’s money is Caldwell family money.”
Brenda immediately chimed in.
“It’s marital assets! Why be so nitpicky?”
Alex reached out and pressed down on my phone.
“Southbrook, let’s go home first.”
His palm felt hot.
I pulled my hand away.
“Which home? The one you prepared for her, or the one I put the down payment on?”
As soon as I spoke, a flicker of panic crossed Cheryl’s face.
Brenda suddenly stepped forward, raising her hand to slap my face.
“Are you trying to humiliate my grandchild or not?!”
The air of her palm brushed past my ear.
Alex grabbed her wrist.
But his other hand, clutched my arm.
“Southbrook, stop making a scene.”
He lowered his voice.
“She’s pregnant.”
That single sentence became his ultimate excuse, his reason for siding with her.
Cheryl’s eyes welled up, and she leaned into Brenda’s embrace.
“Alex, my stomach hurts.”
Alex immediately released me, turning to support her.
He threw me back half a step, and the receipt fluttered from my fingers, landing beneath the hem of the wedding dress.
In the hospital hallway, the smell of disinfectant choked me.
Alex rushed into the emergency room with Cheryl in his arms, Brenda trailing behind, yelling for a doctor.
I stood at the payment window, looking at the name on the screen.
Cheryl Greene.
Companion: Alex Caldwell.
Relationship: Spouse.
The nurse handed out a form.
“Family signature.”
Brenda snatched it, signing quickly.
“I’m her mother-in-law.”
The pen tip scratched the paper.
I stared at that sentence, a cold numbness spreading through my chest.
Alex emerged from the consultation room, his first words not an explanation to me.
“Southbrook, you scared her just now.”
“If anything happens to the baby, you won’t be able to bear the responsibility.”
I stared at his shirt cuff.
A smudge of foundation was on it, from Cheryl leaning against him.
“How many months along is the baby?”
Alex’s eyes darted away.
“Over four months.”
Over four months ago, it was my birthday.
That day, he was on a business trip, claiming an emergency meeting for his project.
I lit a cake alone, waiting until midnight, and received a red envelope from him.
The note read, “Happy Birthday, honey. I’ll make it up to you when I get home.”
â ‘Made it up to me’ right into someone else’s bed, apparently.
Brenda came out of the consultation room door, pointing and scolding me.
“The doctor said the pregnant woman was stressed and needs bed rest!”
“Southbrook, are you happy now?”
I was about to speak when Cheryl’s cries came from inside.
“Mom, I don’t want the baby to be without a father.”
Brenda rushed in to comfort her.
Alex stood before me, his face etched with the familiar weariness.
Whenever he came home late from work, I’d have a warm meal ready for him.
Now, that face held only annoyance for me.
“Southbrook, it’s already happened.”
“Her getting pregnant wasn’t planned.”
“I was going to tell you when the time was right.”
I asked:
“The ‘right time,’ was it when she was marrying you in that wedding dress?”
Alex’s lips tightened.
“Don’t use those words to needle me.”
“I don’t not love you.”
It was so absurd it made me want to throw up.
“Alex Caldwell, you love me, so you got someone else pregnant?”
“You love me, so you lied to her, saying I was your ex-wife?”
“You love me, so you used my money to buy her a wedding dress?”
His brows furrowed.
“I’ll pay you back for the money.”
His tone was like discussing a regular debt.
My phone vibrated again.
My best friend, Ashley Dawson, sent a message.
“Southbrook, your mother-in-law is telling everyone in the family SnapChat group that you can’t have kids, and that you’re holding onto the Caldwell family for dear life.”
Immediately after, a screenshot popped up.
Brenda had posted Cheryl’s prenatal check-up photo.
The caption read:
“The Caldwell family finally has an heir. Some people cling to their position, but even heaven can’t stand it.”
Someone in the group replied:
“Alex should have replaced her sooner. A man can’t be without an heir.”
Another said:
“Southbrook always seemed so virtuous, but she’s really selfish.”
I handed the screenshot to Alex.
“Is this also ‘the right time’?”
Alex’s face changed, and he immediately called Brenda.
As soon as the call connected, Brenda’s voice echoed from the consultation room.
“Did I say something wrong? Her inability to have children is a fact!”
The door wasn’t fully closed.
Everyone in the hallway heard it.
The nurse looked up at me, her eyes filled with pity. That pity felt sharper, more cutting than any insult.
I pulled out my phone, scrolling to a health report from five years ago.
It clearly stated:
“Fertility function normal.”
The person who had issues that year? Alex Caldwell.
Low sperm count, requiring long-term treatment.
I had never told anyone.
Because he said, a man’s pride shouldn’t be shattered.
I drank all the fertility medications for him, endured all the judging stares from relatives for him.
Now, he lets his mother call me infertile.
Alex saw the report, his face instantly turning ashen.
“Southbrook, don’t bring this up.”
His voice was tight.
“Please.”
I looked at him, feeling for the first time that this man was as strange as a stranger.
The consultation room door suddenly burst open.
Cheryl stood, supported by the doorframe, tears clinging to her lashes.
“Alex, are you still trying to protect her?”
She bit her lip.
“Then the baby and I will leave.”
Alex immediately turned to support her.
The report paper rustled in my hand, caught by the breeze.
Cheryl glimpsed the words on it, her eyes flickering.
The next second, she grabbed Alex’s hand, pressing it against her belly.
“The baby moved.”
Alex looked down, his palm touching her swollen abdomen.
That hand, which countless nights had rested on my stomach, saying he wanted a daughter just like me.
Now it was pressed against another woman’s belly, his expression tense yet tender.
I put away the report.
The nurse reminded them to pay the bill.
Brenda shoved the form into my arms.
“You pay it.”
“This whole mess started because of you. It’s only right that you cover the medical expenses.”
Cheryl lowered her head, her voice timid.
“Never mind, Mom. Don’t make trouble for Ms. Southbrook.”
The more she said that, the more Brenda got worked up.
“Hasn’t she caused you enough trouble already?”
“Being someone else’s wife for so many years and not even laying an egg, and now she dares to bully a pregnant woman.”
Alex’s face was grim.
“Mom, ease up.”
But he didn’t take the payment form.
I placed the form back in Brenda’s hand.
“Whoever’s responsible for the baby in her belly pays the bill.”
Brenda’s voice rose.
“You’re still a Caldwell, and a Caldwell’s child is your responsibility too!”
The patients’ families in the hallway all looked over.
Ashley called.
“Southbrook, where are you? I’m coming over now.”
Her hurried breathing came through the phone.
Before I could answer, Alex snatched my phone and hung up.
“Don’t make a scene.”
My phone was clutched in his hand.
“Give it back.”
Alex lowered his voice.
“Southbrook, calm down.”
“Cheryl can’t be stressed today. I’ll take her home first, and then I’ll come talk to you tonight.”
“Come home tonight.”
As if I would still be waiting, leaving the living room light on for him, just like in the past.
Cheryl suddenly leaned against the wall, bending at the waist.
“Alex, I’m dizzy.”
Alex shoved my phone back into my bag and turned to pick her up.
His movements were so practiced, reminding me of the time he carried me to the hospital.
I had acute appendicitis then; he called my name all the way, his hands shaking so much he couldn’t sign me in.
I thought that was love.
Brenda followed, clutching the prescription, bumping my shoulder as she left.
“Don’t stand there looking pathetic. Go home and sign the divorce papers.”
I stumbled backward from the impact.
My phone fell out of my bag, the screen cracking.
A little girl nearby picked it up and handed it to me.
“Ma’am, your phone.”
As I bent to take it, tears almost spilled onto her hand.
Ashley called again.
This time, I answered.
“Ashley.”
My voice was hoarse, unrecognizable.
“Come pick me up.”
Half an hour later, Ashley rushed into the hospital.
Seeing my face, she raised a hand to go confront Alex.
I pulled her back.
“Take me home first. I need to get my things.”
When the car stopped downstairs at our apartment complex, it was already dark.
Two hallway lights were out, and a notice from the property management about overdue fees was taped to the elevator door.
I’d paid most of the down payment for this apartment, but the deed was only in Alex’s name.
The key slid into the lock, but wouldn’t turn.
Ashley frowned.
“Did they change the locks?”
The door opened from the inside.
Brenda stood behind it, holding my pajamas.
Two suitcases sat on the floor.
They were stuffed with my clothes, even my underwear was haphazardly thrown on top.
She looked at me coldly.
“You’re back just in time.”
“Alex said you should move out for a few days. Don’t upset Cheryl.”
In the living room, Cheryl leaned against a cushion, wrapped in my cashmere blanket.
Alex sat beside her, pouring her a glass of warm water.
On the table sat our wedding photo.
It was turned facedown.
Cheryl looked up at me, slowly placing her hand on her belly.
“Ms. Southbrook, I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well today, so I have to stay here temporarily.”
I walked into the living room, my hand touching the facedown photo frame.
Alex immediately stood up.
“Southbrook, don’t touch that.”
The edge of the frame was half-lifted by my hand.
Underneath, a copy of a new property deed.
The owner’s section read: Alex Caldwell and Cheryl Greene.
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It was the company’s annual gala, and Ethan poured red wine over my head.
“Dressed like that, are you here for work or to pick up clients?”
I froze, the wine dripping down my face.
The inner thoughts of my colleagues buzzed in my mindâ
ăEthan spent two hours at the upscale mall last night, just to pick out that dress for her.ă
ăHe’s just jealous, afraid other guys will stare at her. He actually thinks she looks stunning.ă
ăHe’s so stubborn, deeply in love but won’t say it. It’s driving me crazy.ă
But then Ethan slapped me across the face.
“What’s with that expression? If you don’t like it, get lost.”
That slap shattered all my illusions.
Later, I really did get lost. I deleted all his contacts. So how did he end up in the hospital, drunk?
When the red wine poured down, my first reaction was to close my eyes.
Ethan stood in front of me, his wine glass empty.
“Lily, I’m talking to you.” His voice was low, but icy.
Hundreds of people were at the gala, and no one dared to make a sound.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. The wine stung, making my eyes red and painful.
The voices in my head started again.
ăEthan walked around Nordstrom twice last night, just to pick out that dress for you. Of course he’s mad you didn’t wear it, but he loves you!ă
That was Mark, Ethan’s assistant.
ăLily, just calm him down! Ethan totally loves youâ!ăChloe from Marketing.
ăThey’re perfect together, isn’t that how it always goes in novels? The heroine just endures a little and gets her happy ending.ăMia from reception.
I had listened to these voices for three years, and believed them for three years.
Ethan slammed his glass on the table. “Are you mute?”
I looked up at him. “Nothing to say.”
He narrowed his eyes, not used to me talking back.
“You dressed like that, isn’t it just for show?” His voice rose. “I sent a dress to your desk, and you didn’t wear it. You had to wear your own. Are you intentionally trying to defy me?”
“I didn’t like it.”
It was a white backless dress with a neckline plunging to the chest. I didn’t like it.
He wouldn’t ask me why. He’d just think I was challenging him.
He raised his hand, and smack.
My left cheek burned with pain.
The air froze.
ăHoly crap⌠he actually hit her?ă
ăHe’s probably shocked himself. His hand is shaking.ă
I looked up.
Ethan’s face paled for a second, then he sneered.
“You brought this on yourself. If you don’t like it, get lost.”
He turned and left.
The door closed.
I stood there, my mind blank.
All my colleagues were staring at me. No one dared to speak.
But they were so loud.
ăEven though it landed on the heroine’s face, Ethan’s heart is aching. You should see how scared he looks.ă
ăLily, do something! Go after Ethan, tell him you’re sorry, and he’ll soften up!ă
I ignored everyone, took off my heels, and stepped into the elevator.
I leaned against the wall, looking at my disheveled reflection in the mirror.
Lily, it’s been three years. What are you still holding on to?
After a moment of thought, I pulled out my phone, opened my contacts, and found “Ethan Miller.”
My finger hovered over the delete button.
Three seconds later, I pressed it.
“Confirm delete.”
The elevator reached the first floor.
I walked out and pushed open the building’s glass doors.
It was an early March rain. My stockings were soaked, making my toes numb with cold.
My heart slowly turned cold too.
That night, I checked into a hotel room. The next morning, I started looking for a new place to live.
I couldn’t stay in my old rental anymore; he had found it for me.
My resignation process was quick.
I had minored in psychology in college and later got my counseling license.
I originally joined Ethan’s company in an administrative role because he said, “I just need you close by.”
I submitted a few resumes on job sites and received an interview invitation from a place called “Harbor Wellness Clinic.”
At the same time, I rented a new apartment on the east side of the city, signing a one-year lease.
I still had some things left in the old apartment.
Three days later, I went to my old place.
Pushing open the hallway door, I saw someone standing by the stairs.
It was Ethan.
He wore a black hoodie, his hair messy, and he was holding a paper bag.
The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, as if he hadn’t slept for days.
He froze when he saw me, then hurried over. “Where the hell have you been?”
I leaned against the door, unmoving. What he thought and what he said were completely different.
ăI’ve been waiting here for three days⌠You didn’t answer my calls, didn’t reply to my messages⌠What do you want⌠I was really worried about youâŚă
“You’ve been waiting here for three days?” I asked.
“Mind your business,” he snapped.
“Excuse me, I need to go in and get my things,” I said.
“You moved out?”
“Yeah.”
His face paled for a moment, and his inner thoughts exploded:
ăShe moved out⌠When did that happen⌠How did I not knowâŚă
“Lily.” His voice softened. “I was drunk that day.”
Always the same excuse.
“Here.” He handed me the paper bag.
I didn’t take it, so he shoved it into my hand.
Inside the bag was a small box. It held a thin silver bracelet with a tiny star charm.
But the craftsmanship was crude.
“It’s a cheap trinket, only thirty bucks,” Ethan said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning his head away from me. “Just your style.”
His inner thoughts: ăI went to seven stores all over the city to find this star design. You said you liked stars last time. Please take it⌠Don’t refuse meâŚă
“I don’t want it.” I put the box back in the paper bag and handed it back.
Ethan’s face stiffened.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want your stuff.”
“Lily!” His voice rose. “I personally brought it to you. What more do you want?”
ăWould it kill you to say something nice? Don’t look at me like thatâŚă
I looked at him. “Ethan, we’re done.”
He stared at me for five seconds, then scoffed.
“Fine.” He pulled out his phone and showed me a picture.
It was from Sophia’s Ins feed.
Sophia, the daughter of a long-time family friend, was staying at his place.
In the picture, she was holding a Hermès bag, with the caption, “Ethan got this for me, I love it so much!”
“Look at her,” Ethan said. “I buy Sophia a bag, and she says thank you. I run all over town for you to buy a bracelet, and you say you don’t want it. Lily, are you sick in the head?”
I smiled. “Yes, I am. So don’t come looking for me anymore.”
I turned to open the door.
“Lily!”
The door closed.
I leaned against the door. He’d shoved the paper bag onto the doorknob, and he hadn’t taken it with him.
After gathering the last few items, I locked the door and went downstairs.
The paper bag lay on the ground. I didn’t even glance at it.
I left the keys with the landlord and didn’t look back.
On Monday, I reported to Harbor Wellness Clinic.
Daniel arranged for me to greet clients, organize files, and help out at the community outreach counseling center every Wednesday afternoon.
“It’s a busy, sometimes chaotic environment there. Will you be okay?” He handed me a glass of warm water.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Call me anytime if you can’t handle a situation. Conveniently, I have a lecture in the next classroom on Wednesday afternoon, so we can leave together afterward.”
I nodded.
Wednesday afternoon, I went to the community activity center on the east side of the city.
The counseling center was set up in a large classroom with four tables. I arrived early and took the innermost one.
At four in the afternoon, the door opened.
Ethan and Sophia walked in.
My pen paused.
Ethan saw me too. His steps faltered for half a second, and he frowned.
Sophia was arm-in-arm with him, wearing a floral dress. She looked surprised to see me.
“Lily? What are you doing here?”
“I work here.”
“You quit?” Ethan asked, his tone stiff.
“Yes.”
“You’re working as a therapist?” He scanned the classroom. “Does your family really need you to make such a small amount of money?”
I looked at him. “What I do is none of your business.”
“None of my business?” Ethan took a step forward, lowering his voice. “Lily, who hired you to the company in the first place? Now you’re out here embarrassing yourself. You’re dragging my family’s name through the mud.”
ăI was clearly heartbroken to see you working here⌠Why don’t you understandâŚă
I heard his inner thoughts.
Sophia released Ethan’s arm and pulled a small box from her bag.
“Lily, this is for you.” Sophia opened the box, revealing a star braceletâthe one Ethan had given me that I hadn’t taken. He’d picked it up again for some reason. “Ethan said he bought this for me, but I know he spent a long time finding it, and it was originally meant for you. I’m returning it.”
She extended the bracelet to me, but I didn’t move.
Sophia’s hand froze in mid-air, a flicker of awkwardness on her face.
She bit her lip and extended it another inch.
I took a step back.
Just then, her fingers loosenedâ
The bracelet slipped from her palm and hit the floor.
Clink.
The star charm cracked, the chain broke, and tiny loose diamonds scattered everywhere.
Sophia gasped, her eyes instantly welling up.
“Lily⌠I just wanted to return your stuff⌠You could have just said you didn’t want it. Why did you push my hand⌔
I didn’t even bother to explain.
Ethan rushed over, looked down at the broken bracelet on the floor, then looked up at me. “Lily, what are you doing? She was kind enough to return your things, and you treat her like this?”
His inner thoughts: ăHow did she become like this⌠Does she really hate me so much that she’d smash the braceletâŚ?ă
Sophia knelt to pick up the pieces, tears splashing onto the floor.
Ethan bent down to help her. After picking them up, he stood, clutching the few fragments, his knuckles white.
“Lily, you’ve gone too far.” He looked at me. “Apologize to her.”
“I didn’t do anything. Why should I apologize?”
“Are you still going to deny it?” His voice suddenly rose. “Apologize!”
“I won’t apologize.”
A crowd had gathered around us.
Seeing I wouldn’t budge, Ethan walked up to me and violently flipped over the table. Crash! Files scattered everywhere.
“I told you to apologize, didn’t you hear me?”
I knelt to pick up the files.
He grabbed my wrist, his grip so strong my bones creaked. “Lily, if you keep being so unreasonable, do you believe I’ll⌔
He paused.
I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Believe you’ll what?”
“Believe I’ll leave you.”
His inner thoughts suddenly exploded at that moment: ăI didn’t mean it like that⌠I didn’t want to say that⌠Don’t goâŚă
I looked at him and suddenly laughed.
“Ethan, do you think I can’t live without you? Well, I’m telling you now: I’m the one who doesn’t want you anymore.”
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I signed the application to dissolve our Mate Bond, but Alpha Nathaniel thought it was a gift I wanted.
After he signed, he pretended to dotingly pinch my cheek:
“For our child, I’d give you anything you want.”
He didn’t know our child had died the night he was with his first love.
One hundred and one missed calls, met with his excuse: “The Pack has urgent business.”
Later, when I received the Silver Moon Order, the highest honor among werewolves, he was gravely wounded, near death.
His last wish was to see me.
I brought my new Mate with me.
Evelyn POV
I had just finished watering the white roses on my windowsill when Judge Benjamin Hayes from the Werewolf Arbitration Council called.
“Ms. Shaw, the application to dissolve the mate bond has been sent. Please note that both you and your mate need to sign it before the Council can proceed.”
“Okay.”
I hung up, my fingertips tracing the damp rose leaves.
The doorbell rang.
The delivery driver handed me a document envelope. I signed for it.
Just as I closed the door, I heard footsteps outside again.
Nathaniel was back.
He walked over to me, stopped, and bent down, pressing his cheek against my flat stomach.
“I’m home,” his voice was low, laced with fatigue and apology. “I’ve been so busy these past few days, I didn’t get a chance to reply to your messages.”
I felt his warm breath, penetrating my thin loungewear, touching my skin.
“How’s the baby? Why does the scent seem so faint?”
I lowered my eyes, looking at the crown of his head.
“Maybe it’s because I’ve been taking some medication to protect the baby recently. Nathaniel,” I said, using his full name.
He looked up, his eyes confused.
I hadn’t called him by his full name in a long time.
I avoided his gaze. I turned, picked up the document envelope from the console table, tore open the seal, and took out the papers.
I flipped to the last page, covering the terms with my palm, revealing only the signature line at the bottom.
“This is the gift I want,” I said. “A gift after the baby is born.”
Nathaniel paused, then chuckled.
He took the pen, didn’t even glance at the content I’d covered, and smoothly signed his name, his movements swift and practiced.
After signing, he handed the document and pen back to me, dotingly pinching my cheek.
“It’s yours if I give it to you,” he chuckled softly. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll take my entire fortune?”
I looked at his name on the paper and found it utterly laughable.
I didn’t want his wealth or power.
I wanted freedom.
Just then, Nathaniel’s phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out and glanced at it, the screen light illuminating his face.
Caller ID: Isabella.
His expression remained unchanged. He simply turned off the screen and put the phone back in his pocket.
But he lost all patience for asking about the baby.
“The Pack has some urgent business,” he stood up, adjusting his shirt cuffs. “I need to go handle it.”
He headed for the door, then stopped after two steps, as if suddenly remembering something.
“Oh, right, why did you call me so many times the other day?”
I looked up at him.
“It’s nothing.”
Nathaniel didn’t ask further, turned, and left.
I was left alone in the living room.
I looked down at the application to dissolve the mate bond in my hand.
Nathaniel’s signature, sharp and decisive, just like him.
Nothing?
How could it be nothing?
Five days ago, I went out to buy some things for the baby.
On the way back, a sharp pain suddenly pierced my mind.
Then my lower abdomen.
Waves of cramping pain racked me, leaving me unable to speak.
I was losing the baby.
My hands trembling, I dialed Nathaniel’s number. I just wanted him to see our child one last time.
First call, unanswered.
Second call, unanswered.
Tenth call.
Fiftieth call.
One hundred and first call.
On the other end, there was always only the automated voicemail prompt.
Finally, his phone was off.
I eventually reached the Pack’s physician, but she just glanced at me when she arrived and declared the baby was gone.
Then, she looked at me with pity.
I looked into her eyes and suddenly understood.
That sudden, excruciating pain wasn’t for any other reason â it was because my mate had betrayed me.
While he was ignoring all my calls, he was with Isabella, who had just returned from abroad, on a mountaintop outside the city, having sex under a rare supermoon.
Isabella later posted photos on her TikTok account.
In the photo, she leaned on Nathaniel’s shoulder, smiling sweetly.
The caption read: “May the Moongoddess bless us forever.”
Four years of marriage, I had always believed that even if Nathaniel didn’t love me, he at least respected me as his Luna.
Only then did I see the truth.
I was just Isabella’s substitute.
A shadow used to maintain the Pack alliance and superficial stability after his fated mate left the country.
Now, the real person was back.
It was time for this substitute to leave the stage.
I picked up the signed application and gently traced the still-damp ink on the paper.
Evelyn POV
Nathaniel left, probably to find Isabella.
I picked up my phone and called Judge Benjamin Hayes back.
“He signed it.”
The judge on the other end was visibly surprised before regaining his professional composure.
“That fast?” He paused. “Without expedited processing, it usually takes two months to complete all arbitration procedures and receive a final ruling. Regarding the division of joint assets and related compensation, we can begin drafting the detailed plan whenever you’re ready.”
“No need,” I said. “I’m giving up all property. I just want to dissolve the mate bond and leave the Silver Crest Pack.”
“Ms. Shaw, are you sure? According to the laws set by the Moongoddess, the unfaithful mate is required to compensate the other. Therefore, after dissolving the mate bond, you are entitled to at least⌔
“I’m sure,” I interrupted him. “Just follow the process, Judge Hayes.”
“Alright.”
That night, Nathaniel came home very late.
The next morning, he rushed back early.
“There’s an urgent Pack meeting today, so I can’t go with you to your prenatal check-up,” his voice was apologetic. “I brought you breakfast. I’ll bring you your favorite honey-glazed ribs tonight.”
I almost laughed out loud.
Prenatal check-up?
The baby was gone; what check-ups did I need?
The day I miscarried, the Pack physician had advised bed rest, but I only stayed at the infirmary for less than twenty-four hours before leaving.
Nathaniel still didn’t know about it.
Had he truly not noticed, or did he simply not care about me?
I no longer cared.
I just nodded.
Nathaniel changed into a suit, tied his tie, and examined himself in the mirror. Once satisfied with his appearance, he habitually pointed to his cheek, signaling for me to come over.
For four years of marriage, I had kissed his cheek every day before he left.
I didn’t move.
“You’re going to be late,” I said.
Nathaniel’s movements stilled. He turned to look at me, shaking his head with a small, knowing smile, assuming I was still angry about him not coming home last night.
“Then I’m off.”
I also went back to my room, changed, and drove to the Werewolf Academy in the state capital.
It was my alma mater, a place I had left for four years.
Everything was just as I remembered, yet somehow different.
When I arrived, a combat demonstration had just finished in the main training field.
I walked against the flow of people, hearing the excited and admiring discussions of the cadets around me.
“Instructor Reed is truly amazing, no wonder he’s the youngest chief instructor at the academy.”
“Yeah, he’s even stronger in person than in rumors. His aura is incredible, that powerful demeanor is so captivating.”
“During the Q&A, he demonstrated a counter-technique I’d never seen. I need to go practice it right away.”
I walked into the gradually emptying training field and immediately spotted the man surrounded by cadets and assistant instructors in the center of the arena.
Jonathan.
The Alpha of the Moonclaw Pack, an elite instructor at the Werewolf Academy.
And my senior.
He wore a simple training uniform, patiently answering the last cadet’s question.
Compared to his student days, he had shed some of his youthful awkwardness, gaining the calm and composure of a mature, strong Alpha.
I had intended to leave and contact him later.
As I turned, Jonathan looked up, his gaze piercing through the crowd, finding me precisely.
The surprise in his eyes was unmistakable. He apologized to the surrounding cadets and colleagues, squeezed through the crowd, and quickly walked toward me.
“Evelyn? Is that really you?”
“Jonathan,” I smiled.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, I got straight to the point.
“Jonathan, I’d like to return to the academy as an instructor.”
Jonathan froze, immense joy flooding his eyes.
“Of course, you can! The Principal will be overjoyed to know you’re willing to come back.”
He looked at me, his eyes filled with undisguised regret and concern.
“You were the most talented cadet the academy had ever seen. Everyone thought you’d become a top-tier elite warrior. Who knew your family would force you to give up the offer to stay on staff for a Pack alliance marriage, making you abandon your passion for combat and training?” His tone was indignant, feeling indignant on my behalf.
“And now?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice. “Your mate⌠will he agree?”
“I’ve applied to the Arbitration Council to dissolve the mate bond,” I said. “The initial application has been approved. But it will take another two months to complete the arbitration process before I can officially report to the academy.”
“Good,” Jonathan smiled. “I’ll wait for you.”
Evelyn POV
A soft chuckle interrupted us.
Nathaniel had appeared at the training field entrance, I hadn’t even noticed.
He walked slowly toward us, still in his expensive suit, but the warmth from this morning was gone from his face.
His expression was grim, his gaze fixed on Jonathan.
It was the first time I’d seen such unconcealed jealousy and possessiveness in his eyes.
I was puzzled.
His true bond was with Isabella, so why bother pretending to care in front of me?
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Nathaniel walked over and stood beside me, subtly shifting his body to stand between me and Jonathan.
“This is my senior, Jonathan, the chief instructor at the Werewolf Academy,” I introduced. Then, I gestured to Nathaniel, my voice flat, “And this is my mate, Alpha Nathaniel Lawson of the Silver Crest Pack.”
The two men shook hands, their expressions outwardly normal.
But I saw the distinct red marks left on the back of their hands when they released their grip.
“So, Instructor Reed, it’s an honor,” Nathaniel said with a tight-lipped smile. “I never realized my Luna and Instructor Reed were such good friends, making a special visit to her alma mater.”
“Alpha Lawson, you’re too kind. Evelyn is a once-in-a-century talent at our academy. We are friends,” Jonathan replied, neither servile nor arrogant, his gaze open and direct.
“Jonathan, I should go now. I’ll contact you later.” The atmosphere felt off, so I proactively bid Jonathan farewell.
Nathaniel and I walked side by side, not looking back. I didn’t want to cause him trouble, so I didn’t see the look of disappointment and concern in Jonathan’s eyes as he turned away.
As we walked out of the training field, Nathaniel’s figure was bathed in sunlight, yet the coldness emanating from him hadn’t dissipated.
“What are you doing here?” Nathaniel demanded coldly.
“Just came back to the academy to look around,” I replied dismissively, then countered, “What about you? Was your urgent meeting held at the Werewolf Academy?”
Nathaniel didn’t answer, his face growing even darker.
Reaching the parking lot, I instinctively headed for the passenger seat.
Nathaniel pressed the unlock button, and I was about to open the car doorâ
The window slowly lowered, revealing a delicate and striking face.
It was Isabella.
She was sitting in the passenger seat of that very car.
My hand froze on the door handle.
“Just met a friend, catching up on old times,” Nathaniel said, his expression unchanged.
My gaze fell on the paper bag in his hand. It was from a famous red velvet cake shop behind the academy.
I remembered, Isabella loved that cake.
His so-called urgent meeting, it turned out, was a four-hour drive to revisit old haunts with his ex-girlfriend and reminisce about their college romance.
Isabella, from the passenger seat, greeted me familiarly, her tone intimate, yet her posture subtly superior. “Evelyn, what a coincidence, are you here to visit the academy too?”
She showed no intention of moving, instead watching me with an amused expression, a hint of undetectable challenge in her eyes.
I silently withdrew my hand, opened the back door, and got in.
Throughout the drive, Isabella chattered and laughed with Nathaniel as if I weren’t there, reminiscing about their college days. She even took a piece of cake from the bag and offered it to Nathaniel’s mouth.
“Ahâ” she cooed sweetly.
Nathaniel instinctively opened his mouth and took a bite.
“Oops, you bit my hand,” Isabella feigned annoyance, pulling her hand back, but her eyes were full of flirtatious charm.
Nathaniel glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing my expressionless face in the back seat.
I sat quietly leaning against the window, my gaze fixed on the rapidly receding street outside, my thoughts miles away.
I was even wondering which direction the first training session after my return should be set.
My lack of reaction frustrated Isabella’s provocation, leaving her to grudgingly give up.
She said to Nathaniel, with thinly veiled sarcasm, “Your mate has such a good temperament, so sensible.”
Nathaniel let out a soft chuckle, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“She’s very obedient.”
Evelyn POV
Back at the main residence in the Pack territory.
“Isabella and I have a get-together tonight,” Nathaniel said, rolling down the car window as I walked away. “You’re pregnant, so that kind of event isn’t suitable for you. Get some rest early.”
I didn’t turn around, just waved my hand and walked into the house.
In the middle of the night, an unknown number called.
“Nathaniel is drunk, come pick him up.” It was Isabella’s voice.
She hung up immediately, then sent an address: an exclusive private club downtown.
I decided to go.
I also wanted to see what other tricks Isabella had up her sleeve.
I changed my clothes, didn’t put on any makeup, and drove there with a bare face.
When I arrived, several servers were gathered outside the private booth, seemingly hesitant about going in.
Through the half-open door, I saw the booth was a blaze of neon lights, filled with loud chatter.
Nathaniel and Isabella sat on a sofa in the center of the crowd, with everyone around them cheering them on.
They were playing a mouth-to-mouth card game, the atmosphere intimate and exhilarating.
Soon, the card reached Isabella and Nathaniel.
The crowd began to whistle and cheer loudly.
Isabella held the card between her lips, looking at Nathaniel with a hazy gaze, slowly leaning in.
Closer, even closer.
The card fluttered to the ground.
Their lips met.
The cheers grew even louder, threatening to lift the roof off the place.
Nathaniel didn’t push her away.
Under the influence of alcohol, he even reached out, cupping the back of Isabella’s head, deepening the kiss.
His eyes were closed, his expression lost in a wild intoxication I had never witnessed before.
Watching him from outside the door, my heart turned utterly cold.
I was about to leave silently when Isabella suddenly rushed out, as if she had known I was there all along.
“Did you see?” Isabella stood before me, a triumphant smile on her face. “Nathaniel has always loved me. He only married you because your face somewhat resembled mine, and your personality was more docile and easier to control.”
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a low, venomous whisper.
“I advise you to get rid of the baby and get out early. Otherwise, when he tires of you, you’ll just be thrown out, left with nothing.”
I asked, my face devoid of emotion, “Does Nathaniel know that his ‘fated mate,’ whom he’s held in his heart for years, is such a two-faced person?”
With that, I ignored Isabella’s stunned and furious expression, walked past her, and entered the private booth.
The booth instantly fell silent.
Everyone looked at me, the sudden intruder, with varying expressions.
I walked straight to Nathaniel, oblivious to the stares, and helped up the man who was utterly drunk and unconscious.
His body was heavy, most of his weight pressing against me.
I supported him, turned to leave, and didn’t spare anyone another glance.
Back in the car, I dumped Nathaniel into the passenger seat.
He leaned against the seat back, mumbling Isabella’s name incoherently.
“Isabella⌠don’t go⌔
I gripped the steering wheel, started the car, and looked at the dark road ahead.
“Just a little longer.”
Just a little longer, and I’d be free.
When Nathaniel woke up, his head was splitting, with only a vague memory of last night.
He only remembered drinking a lot, and then I seemed to have picked him up.
“I didn’t do anything out of line yesterday, did I?” he asked, rubbing his temples, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
I was changing in the walk-in closet and simply shook my head calmly. “No, you just fell asleep after getting drunk.”
I finished changing, ready to leave.
“Where are you going?” Nathaniel grabbed my hand.
My coldness seemed to irritate him.
“To see Jonathan.”
Nathaniel’s face immediately darkened.
“Stay away from him,” he warned. “Men understand men best; the way he looks at you isn’t right.”
I found it laughable and retorted, “You look at Isabella the same way.”
Nathaniel was choked by my words, momentarily speechless.
He impatiently let go of my hand, but his tone remained firm.
“I didn’t bring you honey-glazed ribs yesterday, but I prepared something else for you⌔
He didn’t finish his sentence.
A document slid out from a crack in the drawer he had just opened, fluttering down to his feet.
It was the acknowledgment of receipt for the mate bond dissolution application from the Werewolf Arbitration Council.
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On our fifth wedding anniversary, Nate Thorne locked me in an industrial freezer, forcing me to chisel out my discarded wedding ring from a one-ton block of solid ice with my bare hands.
My hands were frozen purple, blood dripping down the chisel.
“Nate, I really can’t chisel anymore⌔
He stood a few feet away, his expensive coat untouched by the cold. “Can’t chisel? When your parents drove drunk and killed my whole family, why didn’t they say they couldn’t hit the brakes?”
Just then, his new girlfriend, Sera Bloom, walked in in high heels and kicked over a bucket of ice water, drenching me.
“Nate, she won’t die, will she?”
Nate Thorne didn’t even glance at me. “Don’t worry about her. She’s not going anywhere.”
Then he wrapped an arm around Sera and turned to leave, his voice as gentle as if he were soothing a child: “Are you cold, Sera?”
I lay in the biting ice water, watching him embrace her and walk away.
This was the man I had loved for ten years.
Five years ago, he knelt and put a ring on my finger, promising to treat me like a princess.
Now, he was doting on someone else, and he wanted me dead.
Elara Vance pov
On the fifth anniversary of our marriage, Nate Thorne forced me into an industrial freezer, demanding I use my bare hands to chisel out the wedding ring he’d thrown away, from a one-ton block of solid ice.
The freezer room was bitterly cold, the white mist stinging my face like needles.
I knelt on the freezing, biting floor, clutching a rusty chisel, repeatedly striking the massive ice block before me.
My hands were already purple and swollen from the cold, blood streaming down the chisel, staining the pure white ice with shocking red.
“Nate, I really⌠I can’t chisel anymore⌔
My voice was hoarse, my teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Nate Thorne stood a few feet away, dressed in a perfectly tailored black designer coat.
“Can’t chisel?”
Nate sneered,
“When your parents drove drunk, speeding, and smashed my mom, dad, and sister into bloody pieces, why didn’t they say they couldn’t hit the brakes?”
“I’m sorry⌔
Desperate tears welled up, freezing on my eyelashes.
I’d uttered those apologies millions of times over the past five years; it had become a habit.
“But my parents have already died to atone for that accident. Isn’t that⌠isn’t that enough?”
“Their deaths won’t bring my family back!”
Nate Thorne suddenly kicked the ice block, shaking me to the ground. My palm scraped against sharp ice shards, instantly drawing blood.
“Elara Vance, it’s only been five years, and you can’t take it anymore? When you begged me to marry you, didn’t you say you’d do anything for me? Now I’m just asking you to find a ring, and you’re feeling wronged?”
He abruptly let go, pulling out a handkerchief with disgust to wipe his fingers, then gave a look to the bodyguard behind him:
“Watch her. Keep chiseling. She’s not allowed out until she finds the ring.”
The freezer door was left ajar, and bitter cold wind continuously poured in.
I trembled all over from the pain, my stomach cramping, yet I was powerless to resist.
When would this torment finally end�
I didn’t know.
“Nate, didn’t we say we’d go to the concert? What’s going on here?”
A sweet, delicate female voice suddenly came from the freezer doorway.
I looked through my blurry vision and saw Sera Bloom standing there in a pure white down jacket, a soft red scarf wrapped around her neck.
She was like the only warm presence in this icy world, her features pure, radiating an innocent charm.
My breath hitched, my heart squeezed tight by an invisible hand.
Sera did⌠she looked exactly like my twenty-two-year-old self.
No wonder Nate chose to keep her by his side.
Upon seeing Sera, the ice in Nate’s eyes instantly melted.
He hurried over, naturally adjusted her scarf, his voice so tender it could drip honey:
“Sera, can you wait a bit? Today is Elara’s and my wedding anniversary, and I’m giving her a gift.”
Hearing this, Sera glanced at me dismissively, then tugged at Nate playfully:
“Don’t waste time on someone not worth it, okay? It’s so cold in here, I’m going to catch a cold.”
Nate fell silent. Clearly, he couldn’t bear for Sera to suffer the cold.
So he took off his coat and draped it over Sera’s shoulders, gently changing the subject:
“Good girl, are you hungry? I’ll take you to dinner right now.”
With that, he took Sera’s hand, ready to leave.
However, as she passed me, Sera deliberately ‘slipped,’ kicking over a bucket of ice water meant for the ice block, sending it pouring directly over me.
The ice water splashed down on my head, and I shivered violently. The biting cold instantly pierced my bones, freezing my breath.
“Ah!”
Sera gasped, hiding in Nate’s arms.
“I didn’t mean to! Nate, she won’t be hurt, will she?”
Nate didn’t even glance at me:
“Don’t worry about her. Evil ones always cling to life; she won’t die.”
He took Sera’s hand, frowning slightly.
“Your fingers got splashed with water.”
Just a tiny bit of water on her fingertip, yet Nate treated it like a fragile object, tenderly blowing on it at his lips:
“Cold? Let’s get back to the car and turn on the heat.”
Sera leaned into his embrace, tilting her head to kiss his cheek: “Just hold me, and I won’t be cold.”
Nate cupped her waist, deepening the kiss.
I lay in the biting ice water, listening to the sounds of their lips intertwining, my heart aching as if torn by knives.
“Sera⌔
In a moment of passion, Nate gently whispered Sera’s pet name.
After the kiss, Nate half-embraced Sera, and without looking back, told the bodyguard:
“Keep an eye on her while she chisels. If she doesn’t finish, keep her in the freezer overnight.”
He paused, his voice as cold as ice,
“This body of hers is the only thing left worth tormenting.”
I watched him embrace Sera and walk away, my heart feeling torn in two.
Elara Vance pov
The time when Nate and I were in love felt like a very distant memory now.
On this day five years ago, we should have been the happiest newlyweds.
Nate held me in his arms, kissing my forehead, saying:
“Elara, I’ve finally married you. From now on, my life is yours.”
But now, he held another woman in his arms, and he wanted my life.
They grew up together, from kindergarten to college, always inseparable. Everyone knew how much Nate loved me.
Late at night, I’d casually mention wanting cake from the west side of town, and he’d drive two hours in a snowstorm to buy it;
When I had period cramps, he’d stay up all night rubbing my stomach;
On the day he proposed, he knelt and put a ring on my finger, saying he’d pamper me like a little princess for the rest of my life.
Until the day our wedding was supposed to happen, a car crash changed everything.
My parents, rushing to attend the wedding, drove drunk and sped, killing Nate’s entire family.
That day, a joyous occasion turned into a tragedy, and lovers became enemies.
He lost his father, his mother, and his sister. From then on, he was the only one left of his family.
His hatred was boundless. He used his connections to send my parents directly to prison.
The last time I visited them, I was informed that my parents had taken their own lives.
The two elders had already been tormented and emaciated in prison, clinging to their last breaths.
They gently stroked my cheek, sobbing and comforting me:
“Elara, your parents did wrong and deserve to atone for their sins, but you did nothing wrong. You must live well⌔
“Nate hates you, but he once loved you deeply⌠Please, your parents are begging you, no matter what happens next, you must hold on for five years. If after five years, you still can’t find hope to live, then⌠then come and join us.”
That day, my parents died.
And I became the one to continue atoning for Nate’s family.
Five years, over 1,800 days and nights, I was tormented by Nate in various ways.
Kneeling in the snow in winter, locked in an air-conditioner-less room in the scorching summer, forced to eat foods I was allergic toâŚ
Countless times I wanted to die, but because of that five-year promise, I was pulled back from hell again and again.
Until three months ago, Sera appeared.
She looked like me from back then, her demeanor also similar. She was a carefully chosen replacement for Nate.
He gave all his love to this stand-in, and vented all his torment on me, the original.
His methods of torture were already bizarre; I should have been used to them.
But watching them kiss countless times, hearing him call her “Sera,” witnessing him dote on her just as he used to dote on me, I still felt a suffocating pain.
Now, only seven days remained until the five-year mark.
In the cold freezer, I touched the family photo hidden in my pocket, my fingertips already numb from the cold.
The three people in the photo smiled brightly, a dream now out of reach.
“Dad, Mom⌔
I whispered softly, my body slowly tilting towards the icy surface.
“I’ll hold on for seven more days⌠After seven days⌠I’ll come find you⌔
When I woke up again, it was already noon the next day.
I lay on the cold, hard bed in the guest room, my wet clothes having been casually changed by a maid. A high fever made my body burning hot, and my bones ached from being soaked in ice water.
My hands were covered in chilblains and cracks, and the slightest movement caused piercing pain.
I touched the family photo over my heart, remembering the five-year promise with my parentsâ
Six days left.
I had to listen to my parents and try to find hope to live.
Elara Vance pov
I glanced at the calendar on the nightstand, seeing that special day circled in red. I remembered it was Nate Thorne’s birthday.
Just one last try.
I forced myself to endure the stinging pain in my hands and the dizziness from the high fever, working in the kitchen for a whole afternoon.
My fingers, numb from frostbite, wouldn’t obey, and the whisk dropped to the floor several times. Each time, I picked it up, washed it clean, and continued.
The cake batter burned twice, but I patiently started over.
By evening, a delicate Black Forest cake was finally complete. It was Nate’s favorite flavor from before.
I then dug out old photo albums, selecting a few pictures of us from our youth, and, enduring my trembling hands, made a handmade photo album.
Finally, I gathered my courage and sent Nate a message:
[Nate, I’m waiting for you at our usual spot. I have something I want to tell you.]
After the message sent, I left and went to the riverside restaurant we used to frequent.
I arrived half an hour early, placed the cake and gift on the table, and waited nervously.
Nate was an hour late.
When he pushed open the door, he was dressed in a well-tailored black suit, his eyes stern. Upon seeing the cake on the table, his expression instantly turned extremely grim.
“Did you forget I don’t celebrate my birthday after my parents died?”
He said coldly, walking forward and mercilessly knocking over the cake.
The delicate Black Forest cake crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces, cream splattering onto my skirt, but I didn’t flinch:
“I know⌠but after all these years, my parents have died to atone for their mistakes, and I’ve suffered so much torment⌔
My voice trembled, and I looked up at him, with a last sliver of hope,
“Can we let each other go and start over?”
“No!”
Nate answered decisively,
“The torment you’ve endured is far less than a tenth of what I experienced back then!”
He leaned in close, hands braced on the table, his eyes brimming with immense hatred:
“Elara Vance, because of your parents’ drunk driving, I watched my mom, dad, and sister die right in front of me. My loving grandfather saw their bodies and died of a brain hemorrhage from grief. Overnight, my family was destroyed!”
He suddenly reached out and squeezed my chin, his nails almost digging into my flesh:
“You want me to let it go? How can I? Every time I see your face, I remember how my parents died!”
My tears rolled down, hitting his hand:
“I’m sorry⌠I really⌔
“Nate!”
A clear voice interrupted her.
Sera Bloom, wearing a white sweater, ran in, holding a delicate glass jar filled with colorful paper cranes.
“Happy Birthday!”
Her smile was bright, and she handed the jar to Nate, seemingly oblivious to my disheveled state.
“I folded them myself, a thousand of them. From now on, every time you take one out, you can make a wish to me.”
Nate froze, his hand clutching my chin abruptly loosening.
My heart felt like it was gripped by an invisible hand, and even my breaths tasted of blood.
This scene was too familiar.
When I was eighteen, I had also given Nate a jar of paper cranes just like this, saying the exact same words.
“Sera⌔
Nate’s voice was a little hoarse, the hostility in his eyes instantly dissipating.
He took the jar, his fingertips gently tracing the glass surface, his gaze distant.
The next second, he suddenly pulled Sera into a hug, his voice so tender it could drip honey:
“I love this gift. Thank you, Sera.”
Sera shot me a triumphant glance, then hugged Nate back:
“As long as you like it.”
I sat there, my fingers stroking the neglected handmade photo album, my heart feeling like it was being sliced by a dull knife, instantly a bloody mess.
I hadn’t expected that it wasn’t someone else who defeated me, but my past self.
Nate would always hate the current me, but deeply loved the girl from his memories.
Watching the two embrace intimately, I didn’t have the courage to watch anymore.
I stood up, stumbled out of the restaurant, and drove into the night.
The neon lights outside the car window blurred into a streak, and tears fell uncontrollably.
I wiped them away, but new tears welled up, endless.
I thought I had long since become numb, but it turned out I still felt pain.
Just as the car was about to pass an intersection, a white figure suddenly rushed out from the roadside.
Elara Vance pov
With a loud bang, the car slammed to a halt.
I trembled all over, my mind blank.
I looked up to see a figure thrown from the front of the car, landing heavily on the ground.
It was⌠Sera?
I scrambled out of the car, my legs weak, and ran over. Sure enough, I saw Sera lying on the ground, a striking pool of blood spreading beneath her.
“Sera!”
Nate Thorne’s agonizing shout came from behind. He had clearly followed me out.
He rushed forward like a madman, pushing me aside and scooping up the unconscious Sera.
“Elara Vance! Wasn’t it enough that your family killed all of mine? Why can’t you leave even her alone now?!”
I was pushed to the ground, trembling all over:
“It wasn’t me⌠she just rushed out suddenly⌔
Nate didn’t listen at all. He got into the bodyguard’s car that had just arrived, carrying Sera, only throwing back one instruction:
“Take her to the hospital. Make her kneel outside the emergency room to atone!”
Two bodyguards stepped forward, roughly grabbed me, and shoved me into another car.
Outside the emergency room, Nate stood at the end of the corridor, his back tense.
I was forced to stand on the cold floor, my vision blurring from the high fever, but I dared not move.
“If anything happens to her, Elara Vance, I’ll make you pay with your life.”
Nate’s voice was as cold as ice, every word like a knife piercing my heart.
I lowered my head, tears silently hitting the ground.
Time ticked by, minute by minute, until finally, the emergency room light went out.
The doctor walked out, removing his mask, his expression grave:
“Mr. Thorne, Ms. Bloom’s kidney was severely damaged in the accident, leading to a major hemorrhage. She urgently needs a kidney transplant, otherwise her life is in danger.”
Nate’s face changed drastically:
“Arrange for matching immediately! No matter the cost, she must be saved!”
The doctor nodded:
“Ms. Bloom has a rare RH-negative blood type. She needs a compatible donor, and the blood bank is currently short on blood, let alone a suitable kidney source.”
Nate’s gaze shifted, fixing on me, kneeling on the ground, his voice chilling to the bone:
“She’s RH-negative. Make her get tested for a match.”
I looked up, my body trembling as I stared at him.
He wanted me⌠to donate a kidney to Sera?
I tried to stand up, trembling, but was instantly held down firmly by the bodyguards.
Nate walked over, looking down at me, his eyes devoid of any warmth:
“Elara Vance, this is what you owe me, and what you owe her. You have no right to refuse!”
I trembled all over, tears blurring my vision.
“Nate⌔
My voice choked, carrying a desperate plea, humble to the bone,
“Are you really going to do this to me? Without a kidney, I⌔
“You won’t die.”
Nate coldly cut me off, then turned to the doctor,
“Arrange the surgery immediately! Take her blood, use her kidney!”
I was forcibly dragged into the examination room. The matching results came quicklyâa perfect match.
Before I was pushed into the operating room, Nate, as my spouse, signed the surgical consent form without hesitation.
I lay on the cold operating table, looking at the dazzling surgical lights above, the cold clinking of instruments echoing in my ears.
The anesthesiologist walked over with a syringe. In a daze, I remembered the past.
Fifteen-year-old Nate carrying me, feverish, running three blocks to the hospital, sweating profusely but refusing to put me down.
Eighteen-year-old Nate, crying with concern because I accidentally cut my hand while chopping vegetables, and from then on, never letting me into the kitchen again.
Twenty-year-old Nate, when I broke out in hives from a seafood allergy, stayed by my bedside all night, applying medicine.
Once upon a time, if I felt even a tiny bit of discomfort, he would be heartbroken, his eyes red, wishing he could suffer in my place.
“Elara, I’ll protect you from now on. I won’t let you suffer any harm.”
But now, it was also him who personally sent me to the operating table, brutally stripping me of my organ.
Cold liquid was pushed into my veins. I closed my eyes, and a tear slid from the corner of my eye, disappearing into my hair.
After the surgery, I was wheeled back to the most secluded general ward.
The anesthesia gradually wore off, and the incision in my abdomen hurt so much I trembled all over. I bit my lip hard to keep from crying out, cold sweat soaking my hospital gown.
A nurse pushed a cart in to change my dressing, murmuring to her colleague as she worked:
“That Mr. Thorne in the VIP room is so good to his fiancĂŠe. He stayed outside the operating room the whole time, never leaving. When Ms. Bloom woke up just now, he even personally fed her water.”
“Right, such a handsome and rich man, yet so devoted. I really envy their relationship. Ms. Bloom is so fortunate.”
Hearing these words, I could no longer hold back my tears.
The ward door opened a crack, and Nate stood outside.
For the next three days, I lay in the hospital bed. No one came to see me except the nurses.
Until the afternoon of the fourth day, the vibration of my phone woke me from a groggy sleep.
I struggled to reach my phone. The screen showed a message from an unknown number:
[Your kidney is doing great~ From now on, not just your kidney, but everything you haveâincluding Nateâwill be mine!]
Below was an attached photo: around Sera Bloom’s pale neck, there was a perfectly preserved necklace.
That was⌠the last heirloom my parents left me!
My blood instantly froze.
I ripped off the IV needle from the back of my hand, not even bothering to wipe away the blood that spurted out. I clutched my bleeding abdomen, stumbling out of the ward and running towards the VIP ward area.
Elara Vance pov
When I pushed the door open, Sera Bloom was leisurely leaning against the headboard, eating imported cherries.
Seeing me enter, Sera’s lips curled into a triumphant smile:
“Oh, isn’t this our kidney donor hero? What, here to visit your kidney?”
I stared intently at the necklace around her neck, my voice trembling: “Give that back to me!”
Sera gently stroked the necklace, smiling innocently yet maliciously:
“Why should I give it to you? Nate said it looks beautiful on me, and that I look a lot like you used to, so he put it on me himself.”
I felt cold all over. That was the only memento left by my parents.
I reached out to grab it, but then stopped midway, afraid of damaging the necklace.
I swallowed all my pride and pleaded:
“This necklace is very important to me. I can trade it for something else, anything you want, anything I can give⌔
Sera tilted her head, feigning innocence as she thought:
“There’s nothing I really want. The only thing I lack⌠is the status of Mrs. Thorne.”
She chuckled softly, her eyes full of provocation,
“How about you give that position to me?”
I closed my eyes, my heart filled with despair, my voice hoarse beyond recognition:
“Okay, as long as you give me the necklace back, I’ll divorce him immediately and let you become Mrs. Thorne!”
The words had barely left my lips when the ward door was violently flung open.
Nate Thorne stood at the doorway, holding a thermal container, his face terrifyingly grim:
“Elara Vance, in your heart, my wife’s status is worth less than a dead object?!”
I froze, my throat tight:
“This is my parents’⌠last heirloom.”
“Parents?”
Nate sneered, hatred swirling in his eyes. He strode over, snatched the necklace from Sera’s neck,
“I almost forgot, everything related to your parents, I want to destroy!”
With that, he turned and walked towards the wide-open window, raising his hand to throw the necklace out! We were on the eighteenth floor!
“No!”
I screamed, throwing myself forward without a second thought.
The moment I collided with Nate, the necklace flew from his hand.
And I, due to inertia and extreme weakness, couldn’t stop my momentum. Half my body went out the window, and I plunged straight downâ
“Elara Vance!”
Nate’s voice was almost a shriek. He lunged to grab me, but only caught empty air.
The feeling of rapid descent lasted only a brief two seconds.
Fortunately, I landed on the awning of the seventeenth-floor balcony. The immense impact felt like all my organs had shifted. The necklace shattered beside me, sharp fragments piercing my palm, making it bleed profusely.
In a daze, I heard Nate’s frantic roars from upstairs:
“Elara Vance! Elara Vance!”
Followed by a flurry of footsteps.
Not long after, Nate rushed to the seventeenth-floor balcony. He scrambled over the railing without a care for his appearance, knelt on the awning, and with trembling hands, lifted me into his arms.
“Doctor! Call a doctor! Save her!”
His voice held a panic and fear I’d never heard before, tears splattering onto my blood-stained face.
Just like that fire many years ago, when he rushed into the flames to find me, he had screamed my name just as desperately.
My consciousness was blurry. The abdominal wound, from the violent impact, had completely ripped open, and blood soaked Nate’s white shirt.
A faint glimmer of hope ignited in my heart.
Did he still worry about me?
Was it⌠was it possible he still cared about me a little?
When I woke up again, my whole body ached as if it had been crushed and reassembled.
In the hospital room, a doctor was quietly conversing with Nate:
“Mr. Thorne, your wife has multiple fractures and internal organ damage. Combined with her recent kidney removal surgery, her body has completely broken down. She must rest well, or she’ll suffer severe sequelae, or even⌔
“Give her the best medication.”
Nate coldly cut off the doctor.
“No matter what equipment, she must stay alive.”
The doctor nodded and left.
Nate turned, his eyes meeting mine.
Our gazes locked. The concern in his eyes instantly replaced by coldness, as if his earlier panic had been my imagination.
“Don’t think that just because I’m giving you the best medication, it means I still care about you.”
He approached the bed, looking down at me, his voice as cruel as an ice-tempered blade:
“I just want you to live longer so I can torment you better. If you die, who will I find to pay for the lives of my family of three?”
“From the moment your parents killed my family, our ending was destinedâ”
“Only endless mutual destruction!”
I stared at him blankly, the last spark of light in my heart completely extinguished, tears silently falling.
It turned out⌠I was just fooling myself.
I slowly closed my eyes and whispered softly:
“Okay, then I’ll die.”
He frowned, leaning closer to me:
“What did you just say?”
I opened my mouth, about to repeat myself, when the ward door was suddenly pushed open.
A nurse hurried in:
“Mr. Thorne, Ms. Bloom needs to go for her check-up, but she can’t find you and is refusing to cooperate⌔
Nate’s brows furrowed. He turned and left, not even sparing me a single glance.
Elara Vance pov
The moment the ward door closed, I pulled out the IV needle from the back of my hand.
I endured the intense pain, ignored the doctor’s dissuasion, and forcibly checked myself out of the hospital.
My time was running out.
The five-year promise, only three days left.
Since I had decided to die, I should take care of some arrangements beforehand.
Nate Thorne⌠wouldn’t help me with my burial.
I dragged my broken body to a photo studio and had a portrait taken for my memorial.
Then I went to the suburbs, bought a plot in a cemetery, and chose a small urn.
When I returned to the villa, I heard the pitter-patter of paws from the living room.
A golden retriever joyfully rushed over, its tail wagging like a propeller, its wet nose affectionately nudging my leg.
My eyes welled up. I crouched down and hugged it: “Pudding⌔
This was the dog Nate and I adopted together when we were eighteen.
Back then, they had just moved in together. He held this puppy and smiled, saying:
“Elara, from now on, we’re a family of three. We’ll grow old together.”
But now, with home gone, love gone, growing old has become a luxury.
Pudding brought a toy ball, looking at me expectantly.
I stroked its head, tears falling onto its fur:
“Good boy, Mom will make you something delicious.”
I forced myself to cook meat porridge for Pudding. Watching it wolf down the food, my heart ached.
In three days, I would leave this world. Pudding was getting old; I needed to find it a good home.
After searching all day, I finally found a suitable adopter.
A retired couple of teachers, they had a yard, had experience with golden retrievers, and were very experienced.
I packed Pudding’s toys and dog food. Just as I was about to take Pudding out, the villa door suddenly opened.
Sera Bloom walked in, followed by two bodyguards.
Her gaze fell on Pudding, and a cold sneer curled her lips:
“Elara Vance, Nate hates you. He’s destroyed almost everything you cherish. Now⌠there should only be this dog left, right?”
I froze, instinctively shielding Pudding behind me:
“What do you want?”
“Nate hasn’t even said anything. You have no right to touch it!”
My voice trembled. “This is our dog, we’ve had it for ten years⌔
Sera scoffed: “You’re too naive. He hates you, he hates everything connected to you!”
With that, she clapped her hands, and the two bodyguards immediately rushed in, roughly grabbing Pudding’s collar!
“No!”
I lunged to stop them, but a bodyguard pushed me away.
Pudding, startled, frantically struggled to protect its owner, but was hit by the bodyguard’s high-voltage stun baton, yelping and collapsing in convulsions.
“Pudding!”
I screamed hysterically. In the chaos, I accidentally bumped into Sera.
Sera took the opportunity to fall backward, tumbling down the steps from the entryway, clutching her stomach and wailing.
“What are you doing?!”
Nate’s voice came from the doorway.
Seeing this scene, he immediately rushed over, helped Sera up, and looked at me with icy eyes:
“You pushed her? She just had a kidney transplant, are you trying to kill her?!”
My face was covered in blood, and I trembled as I pointed to the dying Pudding:
“She had her people kill Pudding first! It didn’t do anything wrong!”
Nate froze for a moment, his gaze falling on Pudding’s body, his eyes showing a momentary flicker of distraction and pain.
But quickly, he masked his emotions and said coldly:
“It’s better dead.”
“Any proof of our love shouldn’t remain.”
Those words completely crushed me.
I looked at him, heartbroken, and tears I could no longer hold back streamed down my face.
Yes⌠it shouldn’t exist anymore.
After all, even he himself no longer loved me.
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“Serena, sign it.”
Outside the courtroom, my husband Julian threw a letter of understanding in front of me, his gaze behind the gold-rimmed glasses as cold as ice.
“You don’t want Leo to bear the crime of defamation even after his death, do you?”
Chloe had just driven my brother to jump off a building to his death. And my husband was holding her shoulders, gently wiping her tears.
“Julian, my heart hurts so much…” Chloe pouted, snuggling into his arms.
“Serena, you only have thirty seconds left.” He didn’t even look at me.
I stared fiercely at the man and woman in front of me, my voice trembling, “What if I don’t sign?”
Julian finally looked up, slowly tapping into the live broadcast on his phone.
In the cemetery, several bodyguards holding shovels stood in front of my brother’s unsealed tombstone.
“Be good,” he smiled. “Can you bear to let Leo have no peace even after death?”
At that moment, I finally understood that the love I once believed in was nothing but a joke.
Serena’s POV
Just because my brother got in the way of the industry’s little princess on a talent show, he was framed for drug possession.
He was bullied across the internet.
Finally, he leapt from the rooftop of Starlight Entertainment.
The day I took that arrogant Chloe to court, she was released on the spot due to “insufficient evidence.”
And standing at the defendant’s desk, protecting Chloe, was the city’s most powerful financial tycoon, the president of Starlight Entertainment. Also my secretly married husband of three years, Julian.
After the trial ended, the handsome, noble man walked to the plaintiff’s desk and threw a letter of understanding and apology in front of me.
“Serena, sign it. You don’t want Leo to be cursed and slandered by the whole internet for defamation even after his death, do you?”
His tone was coaxing, but the gaze hidden behind his gold-rimmed glasses was as sharp as ice.
I looked at him, my voice shaking.
“Why, Julian?”
I couldn’t understand.
I was his wife. He had loved me so much.
Even if it meant defying his family’s marriage arrangements, even if it meant being put under house arrest by the Sterling family, he still insisted on marrying me.
I was just a small-time star with no background.
But after my brother died, I begged him crying countless times. Even this morning, I knelt at his feet, threatening him with divorce, begging him not to intervene in this case.
But what did he say?
“Serena, don’t force me! Chloe got into a car accident trying to save me. Her legs were almost crippled, and she can never dance ballet again. I must protect her, even if… the enemy is my most beloved wife.”
As he spoke, he tapped his tablet, showing me a live broadcast feed.
“You have two minutes to consider. Even if you aren’t thinking for yourself, you should think of Leo. Sign it, and I’ll have someone return Leo’s ashes to you.”
The video showed the cemetery, where several bodyguards in black holding shovels were standing in front of Leo’s unsealed tombstone. With one move…
My tears fell instantly.
“What are you doing?!”
But he didn’t even frown.
“Be good, don’t waste time. Can you bear to let Leo have no peace even after death?”
“Julian!”
I stared fiercely at the man in front of me, biting my lip until it almost bled.
“I want a divorce.”
But in this cruel confrontation, he remained relentlessly calm.
“Serena, you only have thirty seconds left.”
At that moment, my heart felt as if pierced by a needle.
How ironic; this man had once loved me with all his life.
Three years ago, he fell in love with me at first sight in Starlight’s practice room.
I was a nobody small star practicing desperately, yet he confessed his love a full hundred times.
He would book an entire sea of flowers overnight just because I casually mentioned I liked them;
He would also hold me distressed and carry me across three streets when I sprained my ankle during dance practice.
It was also then that I learned there was a daughter of the Walker family who grew up with him and had been chasing him for years.
But he had no one else in his eyes.
“Serena, I only love you; I only have sibling feelings for Chloe!”
The turning point happened half a year ago. Chloe was in a car accident abroad, and to save Julian, both her legs were severely injured.
Since then, his attitude toward this friend completely changed.
He canceled cross-border meetings to accompany her personally, and even to pave the way for her entry into the entertainment industry, he forcibly canceled all my schedules.
At first, I believed him.
Until the day my brother had the accident. I was blocked by crazy anti-fans downstairs at the company, and Julian’s phone couldn’t get through no matter what.
Out of helplessness, my brother Leo went alone to confront Chloe, but this trip led him to fall from the 33rd floor, never to return.
Everyone insisted it was an accident, saying Leo committed suicide out of guilt.
Even Julian, who happened to be absent from the scene when the incident occurred, believed this statement.
But that day, I clearly received my brother’s last voice message. I heard the chaos on the other end of the phone, mixed with Chloe’s cold mockery and my brother’s desperate cries.
My brother was driven to his death!
Over the past six months, I suffered in pain and self-blame, and finally found a shred of evidence through my breakdown.
I begged Julian countless times to help me.
But during this trial, he stood on the opposite side without hesitation.
He protected the murderer who killed my brother, and to force me to apologize to her, he even used my brother’s ashes as a threat…
At this moment, looking at Julian in front of me, I only felt he was so unfamiliar, as if he came from hell.
I despaired and accepted my fate, trembling fingers signing crooked handwriting on that statement.
“Satisfied? Then tell them to get the hell out of the cemetery…”
But as my hoarse voice just fell, a sudden exclamation came from behind.
Chloe suddenly clutched her chest and lay on the defendant’s desk.
“Julian, help me, my heart hurts so much!”
At that second, Julian panicked so much that he directly dropped the tablet and rushed quickly behind him.
On the other end of the live broadcast, the countdown had already ended. Without receiving Julian’s order to stop, the bodyguards had already swung their shovels…
“No! I’ve already signed! Julian, tell them to stop!”
I screamed, but how would those bodyguards listen to my orders.
I wanted to pounce and grab Julian, but the man’s heart was entirely focused on Chloe; he even slammed his elbow into me as he rushed out holding her.
I fell hard to the ground, my forehead hitting the corner of the desk. Blood slid down my cheek, and tears smashed onto the tablet one after another.
It was too late, already too late…
I saw the white porcelain jar holding the ashes brutally smashed. Against the cold wind, the ashes scattered bit by bit onto the muddy ground.
Heart-wrenching self-blame tore at my heart.
My brother loved cleanliness the most when he was alive, but now, not only did he die unjustly, even his ashes were being trampled into the dirt.
“Leo, I’m sorry…”
My crying broke down completely.
Suddenly I regretted it so much, regretted falling in love with Julian, regretted marrying him.
Endless regret struck my mind like a dull bell, and my vision suddenly went dizzy.
In a world that darkened frame by frame, I only heard Julian’s anxious voice outside the courtroom.
“Chloe, hold on, as long as you’re okay, I’ll promise you anything!”
Serena’s POV
When I woke up again, I was in the hospital.
The young associate lawyer stood helplessly by the bed.
“Serena, this case has already been settled. You need to look on the bright side; your health is the most important.”
I snapped out of it amidst the lingering pain in my heart, ignoring the IV needle in my hand, and sat up to quickly rummage through my bag.
“Could you please check if this agreement is valid?”
My voice trembling, I handed over the document I had dug out.
The other party quickly gave an affirmative answer.
“Serena, your husband has already signed this divorce agreement. You only need to sign and submit it, and you can get your divorce decree in a month.”
This morning, I had kneeled in front of Julian with this document.
Perhaps he was in too much of a rush to leave, or maybe he didn’t believe I would actually divorce him.
He assumed the agreement was fake and actually signed it without even looking.
But he would never guess that everything I said was true.
I didn’t want to wait another moment. I pulled out the IV needle and rushed to submit the paperwork.
After completing the procedures, I made one last trip to the cemetery.
In the cool, drizzling rain, I knelt straight in the muddy ground, scooping up the ashes mixed with dirt bit by bit.
“Leo, I will avenge you.”
I don’t know how long I knelt there before I wiped away my tears and made a phone call.
“Hello, I’d like to schedule a faked-death rescue.”
“In one month, the cause of death will be ‘accidental fall into the sea.’ I will arrange the location, and you only need to prepare a brand new identity for me, rescue me, and send me abroad.”
Yes, I wasn’t just going to get a divorce.
In a month, I would also personally claim my justice and leave Julian an unforgettable surprise.
By the time I finished all this and returned to the villa, it was already dark.
The lights were on in the living room. Julian was holding a bowl, feeding Chloe spoonful by spoonful.
“Julian, I posted that apology letter online.”
Chloe said, tilting her head to lean on the man’s shoulder.
“Serena’s fans have been cursing me all this time. Now that the truth is out, she deserves a lesson. You’re not allowed to interfere.”
Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he still agreed.
“Alright, she made a mistake and should be punished.”
I suddenly recalled the curses online; they said my brother deserved to die, called me a bitch who climbed up through capital, and said I wasn’t even fit to compare to a single hair on Miss Chloe’s head…
A sharp pain hit my heart as I walked into the living room.
“Where did you go?”
Seeing me, Julian paused, his tone inexplicably softening.
“The wound on your forehead… how did that happen?”
I ignored him.
It was Chloe who squeezed her throat and changed the subject.
“You’re back, Serena. Perfect timing. I’m about to debut as a singer soon, and Julian said I should stay here first so it’s convenient to discuss music. Come look at my schedule with me.”
Julian cleared his throat lightly, looking a bit hesitant.
“Serena, Chloe hasn’t fully recovered yet, so she’ll be staying here for a while. You need to put more effort in normally; her throat is delicate and she can’t drink cold water. You’ll guide her daily vocal practice, and also… pick out a few of your stage outfits that fit her and alter them for her.”
Every word was like a knife stabbing into my heart.
I was so incredulous that I let out a cold laugh.
“What, you want me to be her assistant and vocal coach?”
“Be good, Serena. The past is in the past, let’s not pursue it anymore. You’re the main vocalist of the group; I feel at ease leaving it to you…”
He consciously stopped the rest of his words.
On one side of the dining table, Chloe’s debut proposal was densely written, while on the floor lay some of my most cherished stage outfits, thrown about crookedly and cut into a complete mess.
It turned out the so-called guidance was just trampling on everything I worked for.
Many years ago, an investor merely called me a “singing girl,” and Julian flew into a rage, pulling all their investments that very night.
“Serena is my wife. Whoever dares to belittle or bully her is slapping my face!”
But now, he was going back on his word, making me an exclusive assistant for my enemy.
What deep love, what vows. They were just that fragile. I would never believe them again.
I forced back the wetness in my eyes. For the last thirty days, I had to endure everything…
But who would have thought that on the very night she moved in, Chloe would throw a fit about having a nightmare.
When she rushed barefoot into the master bedroom, Julian had just finished showering.
“Julian, I can’t sleep alone.”
She looked fragile and spoiled, getting directly into bed and burying herself into Julian’s bare-chested embrace.
“The mattress in the guest room is so hard. I’m scared; I want you to sleep with me.”
Hearing this, Julian’s handsome brows slightly furrowed.
I knew his heart ached for her.
It ached so much that, ignoring my presence, he wrapped his arms around Chloe in a soothing embrace.
His gaze looked toward the left side of the double bed.
“Serena, Chloe has been through trauma. You see… could you go stay in another room for now.”
At that moment, I saw a fleeting provocation on Chloe’s face.
I grabbed my pillow and got out of bed.
“Since Miss Chloe likes it, I’ll give this bed to you.”
Yes, not just this master bedroom, this bed, but also this man. I didn’t want any of them anymore.
Serena’s POV
In the following days, with Julian’s company every night, Chloe quickly regained her vitality.
When she was occasionally bored, she would invite a few socialite friends over for afternoon tea.
“Chloe, Mr. Sterling definitely has you in his heart. During the half-year you were in the car accident, he went to the hospital every few days, and even made a wish that as long as you could stand up again, he would divorce Serena for you!”
I happened to pass by and heard this sentence; my heart felt like it had been slit open by a knife.
Julian wasn’t around, and Chloe couldn’t be bothered to pretend. She called out to me in a put-on tone.
“Serena, why is the cup of tea you brewed so hot? It makes me sick just looking at it.”
I was just about to take the cup away when someone grabbed my wrist.
“Wait, what’s with your attitude? Our Chloe is about to become the most famous person at Starlight. Is pouring a glass of water too much for you? Stop acting so high and mighty!”
Receiving Chloe’s glance, one of her friends scolded me fiercely.
Before I could react, the other party grabbed my hair, and a full cup of hot water was instantly splashed over me.
“Stop!”
But the next second, a suddenly appearing male voice broke the standoff.
Julian had just walked through the door and saw this scene. He rushed over with a cold face, shielding me behind him.
“Who allowed you to bully her?”
As his roar fell, Chloe, who had been watching with a smile, instantly reddened her eyes. She incredibly smoothly covered her throat.
“Julian! It’s not like that!”
“Don’t blame my friend. She did it for me. She deliberately added peanut powder to my water. My throat hurts so much, I can’t breathe.”
Julian’s movements abruptly stopped. He looked at me with scrutiny, his gaze turning completely cold.
Peanut powder?
“Peanut powder? Serena, I clearly told you that Chloe is severely allergic to peanuts. It will affect her vocal cords!”
How ridiculous. From protecting me to pushing me away, it only took one lie from Chloe.
“I didn’t!”
Water dripped from the tips of my hair, and my eyes ached.
“She’s faking it.”
But my explanation was drowned out by Chloe’s superb acting, coupled with the lies of her friends…
Julian finally lost his temper, violently smashing the cup on the table. He stepped forward and scooped Chloe up in his arms, saying sternly.
“Serena, stay at home and reflect on your actions!”
But Chloe was clearly unsatisfied, crying pitifully.
“I’m not going to the hospital. I’m about to record my debut single soon; what if my voice is ruined? Julian, just let me die in pain.”
Chloe threw a tantrum and refused to go to the hospital, until Julian completely hardened his heart and coldly called for the bodyguards.
“Take the madam to the underground recording studio!”
The underground recording studio was the place Starlight Entertainment used to punish disobedient artists. The soundproofing was excellent, and the air conditioning was kept at the lowest setting year-round.
I trembled and struggled under the bodyguards’ grip.
“No! I don’t want to go!”
But no matter how I cried and screamed, the figure carrying Chloe as he rushed out of the villa never looked back.
For a full five hours, I was locked in the recording studio that was like an ice cellar.
The bodyguards Julian arranged stood outside the door, coldly relaying orders through the microphone.
“Mr. Sterling said that since the madam doesn’t know how to protect a singer’s throat, the madam is to sing Miss Chloe’s debut single a hundred times in here. Not one less, or you’re not allowed out.”
That debut single was full of extremely high notes throughout; it was a highly vocal-taxing show-off piece to begin with.
I was shivering all over from the cold. I tried pounding on the soundproof glass, but no one paid any attention.
I knew that if I didn’t sing, Julian had plenty of ways to torture me, and he might even implicate the sisters in my group.
I gripped the microphone tightly, singing over and over again in the sub-zero air conditioning.
By the fiftieth time, my throat was already hurting as if it were tearing;
By the eightieth time, every vocalization was accompanied by a strong taste of blood.
Until the hundredth time ended, a mouthful of blood suddenly surged up in my throat, dyeing the microphone in front of me red.
I slid weakly onto the cold floor, so numb I forgot what pain was, with only a single tear sliding past the corner of my eye.
I closed my eyes, letting despair overdraw the last bit of love…
“Serena, don’t sleep, wake up, okay?”
As the familiar male voice pulled my consciousness back, I opened my eyes.
What met my eyes was the crystal chandelier of the guest room.
Julian, sitting by the bed, finally breathed a sigh of relief when he saw me wake up, his tone softening.
“I know you’re angry, Serena, but you really did the wrong thing. No matter what, you shouldn’t joke about Chloe’s throat.”
Facing his accusations the moment I woke up, I couldn’t help but sneer, only to find I couldn’t make a sound at all, only able to emit a hoarse, ugly gasp.
“Do you believe her that much?”
Julian frowned, looking a bit impatient.
“Enough. I’ve already had someone handle Leo’s matter again; don’t make a fuss about it anymore. Right now, Chloe’s condition is the real problem.”
“She’s been frightened, and her throat isn’t in good condition. The recording hasn’t been going smoothly. The producer said we must have a better original track to make her an instant hit.”
I froze.
So, he stayed by my side, hoping I’d wake up, just for Chloe?
Serena’s POV
My hoarse voice was full of trembling.
“Julian, can’t you see how I am?”
I pointed to my neck wrapped in gauze. The doctor had applied cold compresses to relieve the torn vocal cords.
My throat was ruined. As a main vocalist, my career was practically destroyed by his own hands.
But Julian fell silent for a moment, still speaking ruthlessly.
“The doctor said you’ll recover as long as you rest for a few months. But Chloe’s debut press conference is next week; she can’t wait!”
“What if I say no?”
I had no more tears left to shed.
“Are you going to lock me in the recording studio again and make me sing until my voice is completely ruined?!”
Julian closed his eyes.
“Serena, bear with it. Once Chloe successfully debuts, and once I’ve repaid her for saving my life, we’ll be just like before.”
He seemed to be making a promise, then placed a “Copyright Transfer Agreement” on the bedside table, his attitude returning to calm.
“Remember, if you don’t sign, the resources for those sisters in your group will all be cut off tomorrow. That songbook filled with your original hard work will just be your apology to Chloe.”
The guest room door slammed shut with a “bang”.
Several bodyguards dutifully stood by the bed.
“Madam, don’t delay. Mr. Sterling said you must sign this agreement and hand over the songbook.”
That night, I was forced by the bodyguards and didn’t sleep a wink.
My fingers trembling, I signed my name on the agreement, watching the bodyguards take away the original songbook I treasured like gold, my heart aching as if cut by a knife.
Finally, at dawn, Chloe’s satisfied chuckle came from the master bedroom.
“Julian, these songs are written so well. The moment I sang them, I felt they fit my voice perfectly.”
Julian responded to her gently.
“That’s great, be good, practice a bit more, I’ll stay with you.”
I curled up little by little in the corner of the bed, listening to the songs I wrote for my brother being trampled on recklessly by my enemy, my eyes stinging so much I wanted to laugh.
Once, when I was stuck writing songs and stayed up late, Julian would feel pained and blame himself for a long time, canceling all work to accompany me in finding inspiration.
Now, he could actually use my painstakingly created work to make another woman happy.
Julian, oh Julian, you actually said we’d be like before?
How could it be the same?
My love for you has clearly been used up…
The next day, Chloe was in a great mood because she got the excellent songs, pulling Julian out to relax.
I only found out they went to Paris to watch a fashion show through her daily updates shared online.
The photo showed the night view of the Eiffel Tower, with Chloe being tightly held by the man’s slender fingers. The caption read.
“The tenth year of liking you, wishes come true…”
I stared at the photo, my heart so empty it felt like wind was blowing through it, yet unexpectedly, I no longer felt pain.
I silently took off the wedding ring on my ring finger, then went to the walk-in closet, cut up all the haute couture dresses Julian had ever given me, and threw them into the trash can.
After doing this, I turned on the computer, logged into the Ins account full of malicious comments, set a scheduled post for a month later, and wrote.
“When this letter is posted, I will probably already be gone…”
I wrote that planned “suicide note” for a very, very long time.
Just as I typed the final period, the sound of a car parking suddenly rang out in the yard. Julian rushed into the villa with hurried steps.
“Why did you destroy those dresses, Serena? Didn’t you like them the most? I personally flew to Milan to have them custom-made for you back then.”
For some reason, his face was a bit pale, and a barely noticeable trace of panic showed in the depths of his eyes.
I looked at him calmly, didn’t ask anything, and just snapped the laptop shut.
“They’re dirty. I’ll wear something else from now on.”
Hearing me mention “from now on,” Julian finally suppressed that bout of unease.
“Alright, I’ll buy you new ones from now on.”
The night Julian returned, there was a top-tier charity gala in our circle that required my attendance with him.
In the evening, before the Rolls-Royce headed to the banquet venue, it made a trip to the styling salon first.
Julian got out of the car to pick her up personally. Chloe was wearing a current-season haute couture dress worth millions and a rare pink diamond necklace, yet she stood there motionless.
The man awkwardly opened the rear door.
“Serena, you see…”
But before he could finish speaking, I silently got out of the car and directly sat in the passenger seat next to the driver.
Serena’s POV
The charity gala was held at a manor hotel. In the banquet hall on the first floor, light and shadow interlaced under the crystal chandelier.
When Chloe appeared on Julian’s arm, she instantly became the center of attention. A group of socialites and artists from the circle consciously gathered around.
“Chloe, Mr. Sterling is too good to you! You’re the first in the world to wear this haute couture!”
“Yeah, I heard a few days ago abroad, to snatch this pink diamond necklace from a certain European financial tycoon, he stayed up negotiating with them for three nights straight and even got a stomach ulcer?”
So, he suffered like that to get the jewelry for Chloe…
Chatting about this, Chloe’s eyes even reddened.
“Don’t mention it, my heart aches so much. But I just said I liked it, and he…”
“He clearly loves you so much he doesn’t even want his life.”
The few of them offered compliments all at once, and someone even sneered a glance at me.
“Some people, wearing a bunch of out-of-season rags from five years ago, think they’ve changed their status. In reality, they’re not even fit to tie Chloe’s shoes!”
I glanced at the dress on my body; it was something Julian had his assistant prepare casually.
I pinched my fingers tightly.
Halfway through the banquet, Chloe took a fancy to the global spokesperson position for an international top luxury brand.
But it just so happened that the president of that brand was a notorious pervert. Holding a wine glass, his eyes roamed unscrupulously over the female artists.
Chloe pouted, tugging at Julian’s sleeve.
“Julian, I really want that endorsement. If I don’t get it, the momentum for my debut will be weakened by a lot.”
With just one sentence, Julian privately sought out that Mr. Wallace himself.
“Mr. Wallace, name your price. As long as you can give the endorsement to Chloe, you can pick any of Starlight’s resources.”
The man opposite laughed with a pfft.
“Mr. Sterling, you should know my rules. I don’t lack resources. It’s just that drinking alone has been too boring lately, and I happen to be short of a beauty to keep me company. How about this…”
When I went to the restroom, I accidentally overheard their conversation at the corner.
“Your wife is quite pleasing to my eyes. If she can keep me company for a few drinks alone, I’ll sign that endorsement right away.”
Julian’s face sank.
“I’ll think about it.”
At that moment, I felt as if I had fallen into an ice cellar.
What did he mean… he’ll think about it?
That Mr. Wallace was a notorious playboy in the circle. Rumor had it he had a kink for spiking drinks; none of the female artists he set his sights on could escape unscathed.
My body trembled faintly, and I turned to leave quickly.
But not long after, in a corner of the banquet hall, I was grabbed by someone.
“Serena, there’s something I want to discuss with you.”
Julian paused, eagerly handing me a glass of wine he had mixed himself.
“You’ve seen it too. Chloe’s condition has been much better lately. As long as we secure this endorsement, she can completely establish her footing, and she won’t bother us anymore in the future. It’s just… Mr. Wallace specifically asked for you to drink with him today.”
“He said that as long as you’re willing to go to the VIP room and have a drink with him, the endorsement can be signed to Chloe. You see…”
“Impossible!”
I suppressed my trembling and shoved him away.
“Julian, what do you take me for?!”
Immense bitterness washed over my heart. I tried to suppress the surging emotions and drank the fruit wine in my hand in one gulp as if to vent.
But just as I walked out of the banquet hall, my brain suddenly felt a hazy dizziness, and my whole body fell backward uncontrollably.
There was something wrong with that glass of wine…
As my consciousness blurred, I vaguely felt Julian catch me. His murmuring voice was stifled with reluctance.
“I’m sorry, Serena, this is the last time. I promise it’s just having a drink, and I’ll be guarding the door for you.”
The VIP room door was heavily shut, and I opened my eyes in the overly glaring lights.
I was lying on a wide leather sofa. That pot-bellied Mr. Wallace was rubbing his hands, approaching with a face full of lecherous smiles.
A chill instantly swept through my whole body.
I panicked and curled up my body, but my weak covering was useless, and the feeling of powerlessness all over made me unable to get up.
“Miss Serena, you are so beautiful, even more alluring than on the screen.”
The man pounced on me with evil intentions, his thick, fleshy hands reaching to tear my skirt.
“You pervert! Get away! I’m calling the police!”
I screamed in despair.
“Oh? Are you going to report me? Or your husband?”
The man sneered.
“This room was personally booked by Mr. Sterling. It’s nothing more than having you sleep with me in exchange for an endorsement. After all, I promised Julian I wouldn’t hurt you. But if you have other needs, I…”
“Get away!”
At that moment, I could no longer hold back my tears.
I mustered all my strength to grab a bottle of wine on the table, smashed it hard against the corner, and held a sharp piece of glass against my own neck.
“Don’t come over! If you come any closer, I’ll die right here! Then Starlight Entertainment and your brand will both be tied up in a wrongful death lawsuit!”
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The day my wife, Fiona Blanchett, found out she was pregnant, she booked a flight abroad.
Her best friend saw the ticket and spoke in shock.
“Are you really going to find Oren? But you already have Mason Warhol’s baby in your belly.”
But Fiona’s voice was sweet as honey.
“It’s exactly because I’m having his baby that I need to see Oren.”
“Oren doesn’t like clean, boring young girls. He likes married women, especially pregnant ones.”
“Now, I’ve finally become the type he likes best.”
Fiona’s best friend was silent for a long time.
“What about Mason? You guys have been married for years, and he treats you so well.”
Fiona gave a soft laugh.
“Mason will never know. I’m just letting loose for ten months.”
“Once the baby is born, I’ll come back and be a good wife to him.”
“The three of us will be a happy family.”
I stood outside the door, my blood running cold.
So Fiona was ecstatic, not because she was having a child with me.
But because this child finally made her into what Oren liked.
I didn’t push the door open. I just texted my lawyer.
“Get the divorce papers ready.”
“I don’t want her, and I don’t want the baby.”
Fiona’s best friend still hesitated.
“Fiona, aren’t you afraid Mason will find out?”
Fiona laughed.
“Mason loves me so much.”
“Even if he finds out, a little coaxing and he’ll get over it.”
I looked down at the baby shoes in my hand.
The store clerk said this was the best-selling style this year, a popular pick for new dads.
I had stood in front of the shelf for a long time, picking them out.
But it turned out, Fiona had already figured out what to do with this baby long before I did.
I didn’t push the door open.
I just turned around, went downstairs, and threw the baby shoes into the trash.
The shoebox made a very soft thud.
Like something else falling and hitting rock bottom with it.
By the time I returned to the living room, Fiona had come out of the study.
Her hand still rested gently on her lower belly.
Her expression was as soft as a mother truly looking forward to the birth of her child.
If I hadn’t heard those words just now.
I probably would have really felt happy in this moment.
Fiona looked up at me, her eyes sparkling.
“The doctor says the baby is very healthy.”
“Mason, we’re finally having a baby.”
“Are you happy?”
My hands hanging at my sides stiffened for a long time.
Finally, I gently placed one on her shoulder.
“Happy.”
Fiona smiled even sweeter.
“I’m happy too.”
“I’ve never been this happy.”
These words fell into my ears like a fine needle.
She really was happy.
So happy she immediately booked a flight.
So eager she couldn’t wait to go see another man while carrying my child.
Fiona leaned into my arms and started excitedly talking about the nursery.
“I want to buy an imported crib for safety.”
“And a nanny, I’ll have my assistant screen a few candidates in advance.”
She spoke so seriously.
As if she were truly planning our future.
But I suddenly remembered, she used to be just like this.
Thoughtful, decent, flawless.
For my birthday, she would book a restaurant a month in advance.
Outsiders all said Fiona loved me very much.
For an heiress like her to be willing to take care of a man to this extent was already rare.
I used to think so too.
Until I accidentally saw the notes app on her phone.
Oren only drinks hot lattes.
Oren’s old injuries hurt every winter, remember to remind him to use pain patches.
Listed one by one, crystal clear.
And of course, she remembered my birthday too.
It’s just that every year, her assistant would deliver the gift home in advance.
She would post a photo of us on Instagram with the caption:
“Happy birthday to my husband.”
But on Oren’s birthday, she would bake a cake herself.
Even after failing three times, she refused to let the nanny help.
I stood at the kitchen door, watching the back of her hand get burned red by the baking pan.
I asked her, “Who is it for?”
Fiona paused for a moment, then quickly smiled and said, “An old friend.”
I didn’t think much of it at the time, and even helped her whip the cream.
Only later did I find out that old friend’s name was Oren.
He was the one Fiona could never have in her youth.
The one who got away, hiding in her heart for years.
Fiona was still leaning against my arms, asking softly:
“Mason, who do you think the baby will look like?”
I suddenly felt how absurd this was.
This child hadn’t even been born yet.
And was already her excuse to run off to someone else.
I said, “I don’t know.”
Fiona looked up at me.
Probably finally noticing my coldness, she frowned slightly.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Is it too sudden? You haven’t processed it yet?”
I looked into Fiona’s concerned eyes.
In this moment, I couldn’t tell if she had even an ounce of sincerity.
She seemed to treat me really well.
But the person she loved was never me.
She never took the initiative to hug me, never came close to me at night.
Every time we were intimate, she was quiet to the point of indifference, never making a sound.
I used to think that was just her personality.
But in the study just now, when she mentioned Oren, her voice was as sweet as an eighteen-year-old’s.
I finally understood, it wasn’t that Fiona wasn’t passionate.
It was just that her passion never belonged to me.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
It was a reply from my lawyer.
“Mr. Mason, the divorce agreement has been drafted.”
“Since it involves a divorce during pregnancy and child custody, things might get a bit complicated later.”
I looked at the lawyer’s message, my fingers hovering over the screen.
Fiona leaned in and asked, “Who is it?”
I locked my phone and spoke plainly.
“Work stuff.”
She didn’t suspect a thing.
Or rather, she never thought I would actually leave her.
She just looked down and stroked her belly, her voice very soft.
“Mason, I have to go abroad for a business trip tomorrow.”
I looked into Fiona’s eyes.
There wasn’t a hint of guilt in them.
Only the anticipation of going to see someone.
I was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
Fiona smiled in satisfaction, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed my cheek.
“You’re the best.”
I used to fall for this every time.
Whenever she called me that, all my anger would vanish.
But now, that bit of warmth on my face just felt so dirty I wanted to wipe it off.
That night, Fiona asked me to help her pack.
With her hand resting on her belly, she ordered me around as if it were her right.
“Pack those dresses too. And the perfume in the drawer.”
“Oh, and take out that box in the very back of the closet.”
I did as she said, packing everything into the suitcase one by one.
Until I opened the box in the very back of the closet.
Inside was a wine-red slip dress with very little fabric.
My fingertips paused.
Fiona saw it, and instead of looking embarrassed, she smiled.
“Just because a woman is pregnant doesn’t mean she can let herself go.”
“If I meet a client, I at least need to look nice.”
So she called Oren a client.
I put the dress in the suitcase and saw the perfume she asked me to pack.
It was a strong rose scent.
But Fiona usually didn’t like perfume.
She said the smell was too strong and gave her headaches.
Once, I bought a bottle of woody fragrance and tentatively asked if she liked it.
She just frowned and said:
“Mason, don’t copy others with this flashy nonsense.”
I never used it again after that.
But now, she carefully placed that bottle of rose perfume in a shockproof bag.
Like she was taking it to a very important date.
Fiona reached out and grabbed a passport holder.
There was a photo tucked inside.
Fiona was looking up and smiling at Oren.
It was a smile I had never seen before.
Passionate, bright, and completely unreserved.
I suddenly thought of our wedding day.
Fiona walked toward me in her white veil, the look in her eyes so calm.
When we exchanged rings, she even zoned out.
I softly asked her what was wrong.
She said, “Nothing, just suddenly thought of someone from the past.”
I thought she was just nervous.
Now I understand.
At the moment she married me, the person she thought of was Oren.
The next second, a men’s watch fell out from the lining of the suitcase.
I completely froze.
That watch was a gift I gave Fiona in our first year of marriage.
She said at the time that the style was too masculine and didn’t suit her.
I smiled and said:
“Then let’s treat it as a token of our love.”
“You don’t have to wear it, just keeping it is fine.”
When Fiona saw the watch, her expression finally changed.
But she quickly recovered and acted naturally.
“Oren has always liked this brand.”
“I figured I’d bring it to him.”
I slowly looked up at her.
“I gave that to you.”
Fiona was taken aback.
Probably not expecting me to speak in this tone.
She frowned, her tone growing a bit impatient.
“Mason, it’s just a watch.”
“Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”
“Oren is all alone abroad right now, with nothing around him.”
“You have me, a home, and a baby. Why are you being so petty?”
So my grievances could be pushed aside.
My things could be given away.
My marriage could be used as her fallback plan after a brief fling.
I looked down at the watch and suddenly laughed.
“Yeah, it’s just a watch.”
Seeing that I didn’t press further, Fiona’s expression softened.
She reached out to take the watch back.
But I picked it up first and placed it in the outer compartment of the suitcase.
“Put it here, it’s easier for you to grab.”
She looked at me, seeming to feel something was off.
“Mason, why are you acting so weird today?”
I zipped up the suitcase, my voice very calm.
“No.”
“Just thinking that you’ll probably be really happy on this trip.”
Fiona paused, then laughed.
“Of course I’ll be happy.”
She stroked her belly, a very gentle light appearing in her eyes.
I watched her smile.
The last bit of warmth in my heart completely froze over.
She still didn’t know.
As she was getting ready to fly to Oren’s side.
My lawyer was already on his way.
That night, Fiona did something rare and took the initiative to hug me before bed.
“Mason.”
“When I get back, I promise I’ll be a good mom.”
I closed my eyes and didn’t move.
Fiona fell asleep quickly.
Her breathing steady, the corners of her lips slightly tilted up.
As if she were already seeing the person she wanted to see in her dreams.
I sat up and picked up my phone.
The lawyer sent the final version of the agreement.
After reading it, I replied directly.
“Deliver it tomorrow morning.”
“I want her to sign it before she boards the plane.”
The next morning, when the lawyer delivered the documents, Fiona only gave them a quick glance.
“Buying a house? And I need to sign for that?”
I didn’t answer.
She seemed to have already assumed the answer.
“Mason, I’m really in a hurry.”
“Whatever house or car you want to buy, just buy it.”
“You don’t need to specially bring these little things to me to sign in the future.”
Fiona looked down and signed her name on the last page.
After signing, she shoved the pen into my hand.
“Happy now?”
The lawyer stood to the side, his expression a bit subtle.
I gently closed the document.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
Fiona seemed relieved and pulled her suitcase toward the door.
Just before leaving, she turned around and kissed the side of my face.
Like giving a little reward to an obedient pet.
“I’ll bring you back a gift.”
“Be a good boy at home.”
At 3 PM, Fiona’s flight landed.
She called me.
I watched her name flashing on the screen, stayed silent for a few seconds, but answered anyway.
“Mason, I’m here.”
“The flight was smooth, and the baby was well-behaved, didn’t bother me at all.”
Suddenly, Oren’s low laugh came through the phone.
“I don’t know if the baby is well-behaved.”
“But you’re much more obedient than before.”
Fiona seemed to lightly swat him.
“Oren, stop it.”
“I’m letting Mason know I’m safe.”
She told him to stop, but her voice was ridiculously soft.
That shy tone was something I had never heard before.
Oren leaned in closer, his voice almost coming through the receiver right against it.
“Letting him know you’re safe?”
“Do you want to tell him we’re in the same bed right now?”
Fiona let out a sweet laugh.
Like a teenage girl finally meeting the boy of her dreams.
“Don’t be like this, he’ll hear you.”
Oren’s voice got even lower.
“Isn’t it more thrilling if he hears?”
My hand gripping the phone slowly tightened.
My knuckles turning white bit by bit.
The next second, the sound of fabric rustling came from the other end.
Along with Fiona’s suppressed, heavy breathing.
She seemed to hurriedly cover the receiver.
But some sounds only become clearer the more you try to hide them.
“Oren… not here.”
The call was hastily hung up.
I sat on the couch, not moving for a long time.
Actually, I had known all along she was going to see Oren.
But to actually hear with my own ears how softly she laughed while beside another man.
My chest still felt like it was being slowly squeezed by a hand, aching to the point of numbness.
I had been married to Fiona for five years.
To me, she was always decent, always thoughtful, always restrained.
I used to think that was just the kind of person she was.
But it turns out, no.
She just saved all her loss of control, shyness, and passion for Oren.
And what she gave me was the position of a husband.
A home she could return to at any time after her ten-month fling.
My phone suddenly vibrated.
An unknown number sent a photo.
Under the warm yellow light of the hotel room, Fiona’s cheeks were flushed, and the corners of her eyes were moist.
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To help cover our mounting debts, my wife took a job as a private nurse for her first loveâa man now paralyzed from the waist down.
By the fourth month, Isabella suddenly demanded we sleep in separate rooms.
“You snore too loud, Lucas. You smell like sweat and grease when you come home from the site. It makes me nauseous just being near you.”
Her eyes were cold, her voice dripping with a disdain I didn’t recognize. We had been married for ten years and had never spent a single night apart. This was a first.
Not long after, I noticed the slight swell of her belly. Late at night, Iâd hear her in the bathroom, the muffled sounds of her retching into the toilet.
A reckless, haunting suspicion began to take root in my gut.
Desperate, I hacked into her cloud account and linked my phone to the security cameras in her “patientâs” house.
That night, I didnât sleep a wink.
âŚ
Isabella came home late again. She didn’t look at me, and she didn’t look at our seven-year-old son, Toby. She went straight for the bathroom, hand over her mouth.
“Lucas, I told you! No more honey-glazed ribs!” she shouted through the door. “The whole house smells like sickly-sweet fat. Are you trying to make me sick?”
Those ribs used to be her favorite. She could never get enough of them. But ever since she started working for Zackâthe man who haunted the periphery of our marriage for a decadeâshe suddenly found them revolting.
When Iâd ask if she was okay, she had a rehearsed answer: Iâm just not used to being back in the workforce after ten years. My stomach is acting up from the stress. Itâs just bloating.
But I wasn’t an idiot. I had seen this beforeâexactly seven years ago, when she was pregnant with Toby.
I kept my head down, pretending to help Toby with his math homework. “Iâll take you to the clinic tomorrow morning,” I said, my voice steady. “We need to get your stomach checked out.”
Toby looked up, his eyes wide. “Mom, my friend Leo said his mom saw you at the Womenâs Health and OBGYN Pavilion today. Did everything go okay?”
The pen in my hand snapped. The OBGYN Pavilion.
“Why would you go to an OBGYN for a stomach ache?” I asked, looking her dead in the eye as she emerged from the bathroom.
Isabella flinched, but only for a second. She wiped her mouth, her expression shifting into one of annoyance. “I spend all day catering to Zackâs every whim. I barely have time to drink water, let alone visit a clinic. Toby is just like youâalways making things up.”
She turned and retreated into her bedroom, slamming the door.
Toby looked at me, his lip trembling. “Dad, I wasn’t lying…”
I ruffled his hair. “I know, buddy. Go to your room. Iâll go talk to your mom.”
I waited until he was gone before I pushed open Isabellaâs door. It wasn’t fully latched. She was changing into an oversized nightgown.
Her stomach, freed from the constraints of her work clothes, was much larger than Iâd realized. It wasn’t the soft bloat of a digestive issue; it was the firm, unmistakable curve of a second trimester.
She stood before the mirror, one hand supporting her lower back, the other stroking the curve of her belly. Her expression was radiantâfull of a maternal pride I hadn’t seen in years.
“Youâre such a little troublemaker,” she whispered to the mirror. “Already being so hard on Mommy.”
Mommy?
The word was a match dropped into a pool of gasoline. My chest erupted. Every suspicion, every doubt Iâd tried to suppress, flared into a blinding inferno.
I kicked the door open. My voice shook with a rage I couldn’t contain. “Youâre pregnant, Isabella!”
She gasped, frantically pulling her robe shut. “What is wrong with you? Itâs the middle of the night!”
“Whose is it? Is it Zackâs?” I stepped into her space, my heart hammering against my ribs. “How could you do this to me? To Toby? Have you no shame?”
Isabellaâs fear vanished, replaced by her usual armor of indignation. “Youâre losing your mind! Weâre friends, Lucas! How many times do I have to tell you? Just because a man is in the picture, you think Iâm sleeping with him? Donât forgetâif you hadn’t tanked that construction project and lost our savings, I wouldn’t have to work this soul-crushing job in the first place! I come home exhausted, and I have to deal with your pathetic jealousy? Iâm done!”
It was the same script. The same redirection. Ever since she moved to the guest room, our life had become a cycle of accusations and gaslighting.
Every time I felt the urge to leave, Iâd remind myself that this womanâthe woman Iâd pampered for a decadeâhad stepped up to work a grueling job as a caregiver to help pay off my $400,000 debt. I felt guilty for doubting her. After all, what could a paralyzed man do?
But this time, I had more than just a gut feeling.
I pulled out my phone and hit play on the recorded footage. “Except for mealtimes, you and Zack are in that bedroom with the door shut. And these… these sounds coming through the vent? I watched the feed all night, Isabella. Every day for four months!”
I pointed at her stomach. “Youâre four months along. You look exactly like you did with Toby. And we haven’t touched each other in six months. So tell me, how do you explain this? Hmm?”
The camera only showed the hallway and the living room, but the audioâthe rhythmic creaking, the stifled moansâwas unmistakable.
The sound coming from the phone felt like a noose tightening around my neck. My heart felt like it was being shredded by a thousand needles. I couldn’t breathe. We had been together for twelve years. I had worshipped her.
Isabella didn’t cry. She didn’t even look guilty. She glanced at the screen, then let out a cold, sharp laugh.
“You really have a filthy mind, Lucas. You see what you want to see.”
She shoved me out of the room with a strength that caught me off guard. The door slammed and the lock clicked. I stood in the hallway, staring at the wood, until the sun began to peek through the windows.
I spent the rest of the night on the balcony, the cold air biting at my skin. I replayed our twelve years together. Isabella had been my intern onceâbright, optimistic, hardworking. I had spent years giving her everything. I paid for her familyâs house, her brotherâs tuition, the luxury cars. Even after the project failed, I sold my own Porsche to keep her lifestyle intact. I never asked her for a dime.
I had begged her to come home. I had offered to find her a desk job. She refused.
“Zack is an old friend,” sheâd said. “He wonât be hard on me. And I want to build something of my own. I don’t want Toby to think his mom is just a housewife who depends on his dad.”
Now I realized the “job” was just a cover for a live-in affair. She was probably using my remaining money to support him.
I pulled out my phone and messaged my foreman. [Taking a few days off. Family emergency.]
A simple divorce was too easy. They weren’t going to get away with this.
I knew a storm was coming, and I didn’t want Toby caught in the crossfire. Early the next morning, I made an excuse and dropped him off at my parents’ place.
I didn’t go to work. I sat in a rented sedan down the street from Zackâs gated community, watching.
Isabella left the house twenty minutes earlier than usual. She was wearing light makeup, a smile on her face as if nothing had happened. I followed her to the sprawling estate Zack owned on the edge of the city.
She used her fingerprint to unlock the side door. Within minutes, the curtains in the master suite were drawn tight.
I crept through the landscaping, crouching behind the bushes outside the bedroom window. I tried to log into the camera feed again, but she had changed the password.
Twenty minutes later, the noises started.
That serpent-venom sound. Isabellaâs voice, breathless and adoring. “Zack, youâre incredible. Youâre the best man Iâve ever known.”
I thought I would be calm. I thought I would be calculated. But hearing the reality of it through a thin pane of glass broke something inside me.
I grabbed a heavy stone from the garden bed and smashed it through the window. I reached in, ignored the glass slicing into my forearm, and forced the lock.
“Isabella! Zack! You goddamn traitors! Get out here!”
Neighbors began to peek over their fences. A gardener from the house next door ran over, trying to grab my arm. “Sir, stop! Itâs not what it looks like! Youâre making it worse for yourself!”
“Get off me!” I snarled, shaking him off.
It took me thirty-seven seconds to climb through the broken window and tear down the heavy blackout curtains.
When I saw the room, I froze.
Zack wasn’t just paralyzed from the waist down. He was a quadriplegic. He was strapped into a complex medical harness, his body limp and unmoving. He couldn’t feel anything below his neck, let alone… that.
Isabella was standing there, holding a tablet, her face flushed. She was using a “voice-therapy” app and a physical therapy stimulator to help him try to stand.
“Lucas!” she screamed, her eyes red with fury. “Youâve finally lost it! I can’t take this anymore! Get out! Get out!”
She began hurling things at meâpillows, her phone, even a medical basin. The smell of antiseptic and sickness filled the air. My arm was bleeding, my shoulder bruised.
But I wasn’t done. I lunged for her, grabbing her wrists. “The baby isn’t his? Then whose is it? Tell me! Who is he?”
Isabella shielded her stomach, backed into a corner, sobbing hysterically. “Are you going to be happy when Iâm dead? Is that what you want? Youâre a monster, Lucas!”
She looked so fragile. So innocent. To any outsider, I was the unhinged husband attacking a saintly caregiver.
“Fine,” I spat, my eyes bloodshot. “Weâre going to the hospital. Right now. If you aren’t pregnant, Iâll never mention it again. Iâll give you everything in the divorce.”
I reached for her again, but a low, gravelly voice stopped me.
“Mr. Thorne, do you really not recognize your own child? Youâre insulting my professional integrity.”
It was Zack. Or rather, the man I thought was Zack.
He called the police. I was arrested for felony property damage, trespassing, and assault. Isabella didn’t say a single word in my defense.
I spent three days in a holding cell. Three days of Zackâs words and Isabellaâs mystery lover clawing at my brain.
Finally, my mother bailed me out. She was pale, her forehead slick with sweat.
“Lucas… something happened,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Itâs Isabella. Sheâs in the hospital.”
We rushed to the cityâs oncology ward.
Isabella was lying in a bed, an IV in her arm. She looked gaunt, her skin a sickly translucent gray. She was sobbing.
“Mom, I can’t do this anymore. I see the way he looks at me… the hate in his eyes. Itâs killing me faster than the disease.”
My mother-in-law, her eyes swollen like bruised plums, gripped Isabellaâs hand. “No. We are not giving up. I wonât let my daughter die before me.”
She turned to the doctor in the white coat, dropping to her knees. “Please, Doctor. Check again. There has to be a way. Take my blood, my organs, anything!”
The doctor sighed, looking pained. “Your daughter has stage four colorectal cancer. Itâs advanced. With palliative care, she might have three months.”
My heart stopped.
“The only chance,” the doctor continued, “is an experimental procedure from a clinic in Switzerland. A full intestinal transplant using bio-synthetic tissue. But it starts at three million dollars. The success rate is only 40%. If it fails, she won’t even have those three months. You need to decide.”
“Weâll do it!” my mother-in-law cried. “My son-in-law is successful! He loves her! Weâll find the money!”
“No!” Isabella gasped, her voice a fragile rasp. “Itâs three million, Mom. If it fails, Lucas will have nothing. Toby will have nothing. I won’t let them suffer because of me. Itâs better if they hate me. If they hate me, they can move on after Iâm gone. Theyâll forget me…”
She collapsed into a fit of violent coughing, her chest heaving as if she were about to draw her last breath.
My wife wasn’t pregnant with another manâs child.
She was dying.
She had been losing weight, unable to eat, unable to sleepâall while trying to make me hate her so the grief wouldn’t destroy me. And I, the man who had promised to protect her, had responded with nothing but accusations and shame.
My soul felt like it was being crushed by a giant hand. I wanted to go back in time and tear that version of myself to pieces.
“Weâre doing it!” I shouted, stumbling to her bedside. I grabbed her hand, my tears falling onto the sterile sheets. “I don’t care what it costs. Weâre going to Switzerland. Iâll find the money, I promise!”
She didn’t have the strength to fight me. She just looked at me with a gaze full of tragic relief.
My mother-in-law wiped her eyes. “I knew you were a good man, Lucas.”
I pulled out my phone and transferred every cent of my liquid assetsânearly $250,000âto Isabellaâs account. “The house. Iâll sell the house. Iâll call the realtor now.”
My mother chimed in, “I have my retirement savings, too. Weâll save her.”
I hurried out of the room, my legs feeling like jelly. I realized I had a private life insurance policy for Isabella and wanted to check if it covered international experimental treatments.
But as I reached the door, I heard a sound that made my blood turn to ice.
A loud, mocking burst of laughter.
“God, Lucas is such a pathetic loser. I can’t believe he fell for it…”
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Seventy-two hours until the next Scourge tide hits.
I pushed open the heavy steel doors of the Meta-Testing Lab. Holden was leaning against the peeling paint of the corridor wall.
He tossed me half a ration bar. “Letâs go. Debby arrives at the Citadel tonight. I need to be at the gates.”
I caught the bar, took a dry bite, and looked at him. “Holden, I actually…”
“Sheâs a new Gifted,” he interrupted, pushing off the wall. “By the way, I havenât been entirely straight with you.”
The casual tone of his voice made my chest tighten.
“The only reason I kept you around this long was because your healing abilities were somewhat useful to the Citadel.”
The dry ration turned to ash in my mouth. I couldn’t swallow. “What are you talking about?”
“Cara, you can’t compare to her. From now on, stop telling people you’re my girlfriend.” He looked at me, his eyes devoid of the warmth that had anchored me for three years. “Debby is a Purifier. Starting today, she is the most vital asset this base has. Youâre obsolete.”
He reached out, catching my wrist. His thumb brushed my pulse point, a phantom gesture of a dead romance, his tone sickeningly innocent. “If itâs too hard for you to see us together, you can request a transfer out of the Core Sector. Itâll save us both the trouble of awkward run-ins. You won’t have to be sad, and I won’t have to deal with it.”
He dropped my hand. “Anyway, what were you trying to say?”
I lowered my eyes, staring at my scuffed boots. “Nothing.”
In the depths of my heavy canvas pocket, my fingers curled tightly around the crisp edges of my new test results.
It didn’t say Healer.
It said Purifier.
For three months, the entire Citadel had been turning the wasteland upside down for the hope of humanity. And she had been standing right in front of him.
1.
At dusk, Holden really did bring Debby home.
I stood in the shadows of the second-floor catwalk, watching the armored convoy roll through the reinforced gates.
He stepped out first. I watched the man I loved walk around the hood, open the passenger door, and place a protective hand over the roof frame so she wouldn’t bump her head.
He used to do that for me.
Debby was younger than I expected. She wore her hair in two loose braids, and when she smiled, deep dimples bracketed her mouth. She looked devastatingly untouched by the end of the world.
The Citadelâs brass swarmed them.
Holden stood at the epicenter of the crowd. He cleared his throat, wrapping a heavy, possessive arm around Debbyâs waist. He smiledâa brilliant, triumphant thing. “Debby is a Purifier, and she has graciously chosen to join our ranks. From this moment on, her word is my word. Her orders are absolute.”
Purifier.
The word sucked the oxygen from the courtyard. A beat of stunned silence was immediately shattered by a collective gasp.
It had been three years since the Scourge wiped out the old world. Purifiers were ghosts, myths whispered around oil-drum fires. A Purifier didn’t just heal; they eradicated the Blight from the bloodstream. They could pull the infected back from the brink of mutation. They were the holy grail of every surviving faction on the continent.
And now, she was standing in our dirt courtyard.
A few of the inner-circle lieutenants, men who prided themselves on knowing which way the wind blew, dropped to their knees. It started a domino effect. Ring by ring, the hardened survivors of the Northern Citadel sank to the ground in reverence.
Seeing this, a perfectly calibrated blush crept up Debbyâs neck. She rose on her tiptoes, pressing her glossed lips against the pulse of Holdenâs throat. “You’re terrible,” she whispered loudly.
The courtyard erupted in cheers and wolf-whistles.
I stared at the intimate curve of their bodies pressed together. It felt as though a phantom hand had plunged into my ribs and crushed my lungs. I wrenched my gaze away, a wave of pure, unadulterated nausea rising in the back of my throat.
Down below, Holdenâs eyes swept over the cheering crowd. For a fraction of a second, his gaze flicked up to the second-floor catwalk. He saw me. And with the indifference of a man looking at a smudge on a windowpane, he looked away.
It was as if my presenceâour shared historyâwas entirely irrelevant to the space he now occupied.
The welcome banquet was held in the Citadelâs Grand Hall.
I had planned to stay in my quarters, but Debby had specifically requested my presence.
“You must be Cara!”
The moment I walked in, Debby waved at me from the head table. Her voice was pitched just high enough, carrying over the hum of the room. Instantly, every pair of eyes in the hall snapped toward me.
I had no choice but to walk over.
On the table in front of her sat the baseâs dwindling supply of hot, freshly cooked foodâsteaming rice, canned peaches, real meat. In front of my empty chair sat a tin cup of purified water and a single compressed ration block.
“Cara, I am so sorry,” Debby said, pouting her lips in a grotesque pantomime of sympathy. “Hot meals are strictly rationed by tier now. With your current rank… this is all youâre allotted. You don’t mind, do you?”
When I didn’t answer, she leaned her head against Holdenâs broad shoulder, looking up at him through her lashes. “Holden, Iâm just following the rules… Youâre not mad at me, are you?”
Holden chuckled, shaking his head. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Never. Whatever you say goes.”
Satisfied, Debby giggled and turned her doe eyes back to me. “Oh, right! Holden mentioned you were a Healer?”
“A Healer… isn’t that basically just a walking blood bag? That sounds exhausting.” She sighed, feigning profound pity. “But itâs okay. You won’t have to come to the Core Sector anymore. Theyâre desperately short on Healers out on the Perimeter. Youâll be… somewhat useful out there.”
My fingers dug into the edge of the wooden table.
Debby peeked over her shoulder at the man beside her. “Right, Holden?”
Holden didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. The Core Sector belongs to you alone.”
I remembered, with sickening clarity, the day he had said those exact words to me.
It was when the Citadel was first built. He had hammered the wooden sign for the Core Sector onto the door himself, turned around, pulled me flush against his chest, and murmured into my hair, âCara, this place belongs to you. Only you.â
I had held onto that promise like a lifeline.
Only now did I realize that the promise was a template. The words remained the same; he just swapped out the girl standing in front of him.
“Fine. I’ll pack.”
I pushed back from the table, swallowing the battery acid burning in my throat, and turned for the door.
“Not going to eat, Cara?” Debby called out, her voice dripping with fake concern. “The food in Sector C is practically sludge. You should really take a bite while you can!”
As I pushed through the heavy double doors, I heard her voice shift into a whiny, spoiled drawl. “Holden, does she hate me?”
“No. Sheâs always been cold. Don’t waste your energy on her.”
Cold.
He could actually say that about me. The audacity of it turned my stomach.
The icy night air hit me the second I stepped outside, forcing me to pull my collar up.
When I reached the outermost edge of the base, I discovered someone had already moved my meager belongings into a dilapidated supply closet.
The bed was a makeshift cot. The blanket was so thin I could see the weave of the fabric through the moonlight. The corners of the room were piled high with rusted scrap metal.
The moonlight spilled across the concrete floor, stinging my eyes until they watered.
I slid down the rough concrete wall until I hit the floor. Pulling my knees to my chest, I reached into the depths of my pocket and pulled out the crumpled lab report.
I stared at it in the dark for a long, long time. Then, carefully, I folded it back up, and shoved it as deep into my pocket as it would go.
2.
The next morning, the aggressive pounding on my door startled me awake.
Two perimeter guards I didn’t recognize stood outside, tossing a heavily patched, stained hazmat suit at my feet.
They looked at me with dead eyes. “Orders from the Purifier. Starting today, youâre assigned to debris clearing in Sector D. All mutant carcasses are your responsibility.”
I froze. “Sector D? The toxicity levels there breached the safety threshold weeks ago.”
One of the guards nudged the suit with his boot. “The Purifier says Healers have a higher resistance to the Blight than normal folks. Makes you the perfect fit.”
I knelt and picked up the heavy, foul-smelling canvas. “Whereâs the rest of the protective gear? Masks? Gloves?”
“Thatâs all you get.” The second guard pointed at the suit. His voice softened, just a fraction. “Look, Cara. I wouldn’t cross her if I were you. The whole Citadel dances to her tune now. Youâ”
Before he could finish, his partner grabbed him by the tactical vest and yanked him away.
As they walked off, I heard the partner hiss, “Why are you talking to her? You want the Purifier to hear about this and throw us out there with her?”
The whisper was quiet, but it rang in my ears like a gunshot.
Sector D was the absolute fringe of the Citadel, a wasteland of shattered concrete and twisted rebar. It was the most heavily contaminated zone we had. The carcasses of the Scourge were scattered everywhere. The air was thick with a putrid stenchâa sickening cocktail of rotting meat and rusted iron that made me dry heave the moment I arrived.
I had no gloves. No respirator. The side seam of the hazmat suit tore open the first time I bent over.
Within an hour, the jagged edges of the infected debris had sliced my hands open in half a dozen places. The blood welled up, immediately mixing with the toxic gray ash covering the bones, making the cuts burn and itch with a fiery intensity.
I stopped, chest heaving, and looked around the desolate landscape.
When I was in the Core Sector, whenever I used my energy to heal a scout, they would look at me with weary gratitude. Thanks for keeping us alive, Cara. Someone would always save me a bowl of hot soup. Someone would always take over my shift when I looked like I was about to pass out.
Now, there was nothing.
The same scouts walked past the perimeter wire today, but when they saw me, they ducked their heads and quickened their pace.
Suddenly, my foot slipped on a patch of slick ash. My hand shot out to catch myself, and a jagged shard of infected bone drove straight into my palm.
Blood sprayed. I sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, falling to my knees in the dirt.
My fingers trembling, I ripped a strip of fabric from the torn sleeve of the suit, wound it tightly around my palm, and bit down on the end to pull the knot tight, cutting off the circulation.
Crouched behind a pile of rotting debris, my mind drifted back to the first year of the collapse.
I had been running from three mutated hounds. I had lost my shoes miles back, and the soles of my feet were shredded by broken glass, leaving a trail of bloody footprints. I had backed myself into a corner, curled into a ball, shaking violently. I was so sure I was going to die.
And then Holden dropped from the sky.
His blade cleaved cleanly through the skull of the lead hound. Black blood splattered across his jaw. He didn’t even wipe it off. He just rushed over, dropping to his knees in front of me. “Where are you hurt?”
“Don’t be afraid. Youâre radiating meta-energy. Stay with me. I will never let anyone hurt you.”
He was so fiercely sincere back then. I believed him. I turned down the recruitment offers from three other major factions just to stay by his side.
By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, I shoved the final cart of contaminated debris into the incinerator pit.
My legs shook uncontrollably as I dragged myself back toward the residential ring. In the distance, the main compound glowed with warm, buttery light.
As I walked past the Grand Hall, silhouettes danced against the frosted glass. Laughter bled through the walls.
Tonight was day two of Debbyâs welcome festival. Holden was throwing her a private banquet.
“I want you to feed it to me.”
“Alright. Open up.” Holdenâs voice, a low rumble I used to feel against my spine in the dark. “Is it sweet?”
“So sweet.”
“Are you talking about the fruit, or me?”
“You’re awful~”
Then, the unmistakable, sickening sound of shifting fabrics and wet kisses.
I didn’t stop to listen to the rest. I pulled my collar up and vanished into the freezing dark.
The laughter chased me down the dirt road. It felt like I was running through a field of arrows, and every single one had my name on it.
3.
Day three in Sector D was colder.
The crude bandages on my hands were soaked through. The old scabs had split open, accompanied by a fresh layer of raw cuts.
I was hunched over, trying to tighten the bloody strip of fabric with my teeth, when a sickly-sweet voice floated over the toxic wind.
“Cara?”
Debby stood a few feet away, bundled in a pristine, white down coat that looked entirely out of place in the apocalypse. “Oh my god. Why are you out here doing this kind of grunt work?”
Before I could answer, she practically skipped over the debris and crouched in front of me. When she saw the ruined state of my hands, she let out a dramatic gasp.
“Holden is just too much sometimes. How could he leave you out here all alone?”
She knitted her perfectly plucked brows together, reached out, and pressed her gloved hands directly over my bleeding palm. “Let me heal you. Don’t move.”
I didn’t have the strength to pull away before a surge of meta-energy rushed from her palms into my veins.
Instantly, my entire body went rigid.
That energy… it was completely alien to my own.
This wasn’t purification.
I could feel it with absolute clarity. The energy was thick, sluggish. It was merely suppressing the pain receptors and forcing the skin to stitch itself together.
But the Blightâthe toxic sourceâwas still festering underneath.
It was the equivalent of slapping duct tape over a bullet hole. It looked pretty on the outside, but underneath, the poison was multiplying.
“Cara, Holden told me about you,” Debby murmured.
Seeing my frozen expression, the corner of her mouth ticked up into a nasty, triumphant little smirk. “He said you were so easy to manipulate.”
She paused, tilting her head as if considering her words. “Sorry. Iâm just a really blunt person. Don’t take it personally.”
“I won’t,” I said, my voice dead flat.
She stood up, daintily brushing a speck of gray ash from her designer coat. She looked down at me, her eyes cold. “But you really can’t blame Holden. Itâs the end of the world. Everyone has to look out for themselves. He couldn’t drag dead weight around forever, right?”
“Right,” I muttered, my mind racing a million miles an hour.
Debby beamed, pleased with my submission. But her smile vanished the second I opened my mouth again.
“Are you really a Purifier?”
I locked eyes with her, refusing to blink. “I felt your energy.”
“What you just put in my body isn’t a purification reaction. Itâs a temporary suppressant. The Blight is still inside me.”
Her breath hitched. She took a quick step back. “Cara, youâre just a low-tier Healer. What do you know about purification mechanics?”
“I know enough,” I said, slowly rising to my feet. “And I definitely know more than you.”
I reached out and grabbed her wristâthe one dripping with silver bracelets sheâd likely looted from the Core’s vault.
Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar broad-shouldered silhouette striding toward us through the fog.
In a split second, Debbyâs entire demeanor violently shifted. She recoiled as if sheâd been burned, her eyes instantly welling with fat, desperate tears.
“Cara, please don’t do this…”
The tears spilled over flawlessly.
“I know you hate me, but the Citadel needs me! If you hurt me, youâll doom everyone…”
I blinked, momentarily stunned by the sheer cinematic quality of her pivot.
Before I could even process it, the heavy crunch of combat boots slammed into the gravel behind me.
“Cara!”
And then came the deafening crack of a palm striking bone.
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I raised my stepdaughter for three years. I spent sixty-eight thousand dollars on her. And in her English class personal essay, she wrote: I donât have a mother.
The guidance counselorâs voice on the phone was gentle, dipped in that practiced, saccharine concern. She suggested the child was lacking maternal affection. She advised that we, as parents, try to be more present.
I hung up the phone and looked at the kitchen island. Resting on the granite was a Dutch oven full of slow-braised short ribs.
Mackenzieâs favorite.
I had been up since five-thirty that morning to sear the meat and get the braise going before work.
I pulled up the photo of the essay the counselor had emailed me, zooming in on the screen to read it word by word.
I donât have a mother. At home, itâs just my dad, and a woman who lives with us.
Okay.
Message received.
1.
Three years ago, I married Paul.
Back then, he knew exactly what to say.
“Gwen, Mac doesn’t have a mom. She needs you.”
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you happy.”
“The three of us. We’re a family now.”
He only had one requestâthat we establish my house as Mackenzieâs permanent legal residence by putting the property into a family trust, naming her as a resident beneficiary.
I owned a little two-bedroom bungalow in the historic Eastside district. It was barely eight hundred square feet, left to me by my dad. There had been rumors for years that a major commercial developer was going to buy out the entire block, but nothing had ever materialized.
Paul pitched it as an educational necessity. Mackenzie was about to start high school, and my house was zoned for Oakridge Academy, the third-ranked magnet school in the state.
“We just file the trust paperwork to prove residency,” he had said, his tone impossibly casual. “Once she graduates, we can dissolve it. No big deal.”
My mother had objected immediately.
“Itâs your inheritance, Gwen. Why tie a child that isn’t yours to your property title?”
I told her, Mom, sheâs my stepdaughter. Sheâs not just some kid.
My mother looked at me for a long moment and didn’t say another word.
It took me three years to finally understand that look.
The day Paul came with me to the lawyerâs office to sign the trust documents, he was practically glowing. He carried my purse. He held the door. He didn’t stop smiling. When the paralegal handed us the filed copies, he stared at the paperwork, the crinkles around his eyes deeper than they had been on our wedding day.
I thought he was just relieved his daughter was getting into a good school.
Looking back, I realize he was smiling at something else entirely.
The second week after the paperwork was finalized, my mother-in-law arrived from upstate.
Paul said she was getting older and just needed to stay for “a little while.”
A little while turned into three years.
On her first day in my house, Barbara stood in the center of my living room, looked around, and made an observation.
“It’s cramped. But the location is prime. Sitting on this will pay off big time.”
She was talking about the house my dead father left me.
Not her son’s marital home.
I didn’t think much of it at the time.
By the time I started paying attention, it was too late.
No, that’s a lie. It wasn’t too late.
It was just going to cost me a hell of a lot more to fix it.
2.
My stepdaughter, Mackenzie, is seventeen now. A junior in high school.
When I married her father, she was fourteen.
The first time we met, she looked me up and down and muttered, “Hey.”
Paul quickly corrected her. “Call her Mom, Mac.”
Mackenzie smirked, dropped her gaze back to her iPhone, and said absolutely nothing.
From that day forward, to my face, she called me “Gwen.” Behind my back, she called me “that woman.”
I told myself teenagers needed time to adjust.
I was wrong.
She didn’t need time. She had simply decided, from day one, that she was never going to accept me.
For three years, I woke up at five-thirty every single morning to make her breakfast. Mackenzie wouldn’t eat eggs, hated onions, despised cilantro, and couldn’t handle spice.
I kept a mental encyclopedia of her aversions.
I hand-washed her cheerleading uniforms because the washing machine never quite got the collar stains out, and if it wasn’t pristine, she would punish me with slamming doors.
I drove her to every extracurricular activity. Tuesdays were equestrian lessons. Thursdays were SAT prep. Saturdays were private math tutoring.
I actually sat down and calculated the cost of those three years once.
Equestrian club: $18,000.
SAT prep courses: $12,000.
Private math tutor: $25,000.
Add in the private school fees, the uniforms, the textbooks, the MacBooks, the allowance.
The total came out to $68,412.
Sixty-eight thousand, four hundred and twelve dollars.
I paid for eighty percent of that out of my own pocket.
Paulâs salary, he claimed, went strictly toward his car payments, household utilities, and “giving his mom a little spending money.”
Where his money was actually going is a conversation for later.
Let’s stick to Mackenzie for now.
Last year, I took a half-day off work to attend the Oakridge parent-teacher open house.
Standing in the hallway outside her homeroom, I overheard Mackenzie talking to a group of girls.
“Your mom drops a bag on those riding lessons, huh?” one of the girls asked.
Mackenzie let out a sharp laugh.
“My mom’s dead. My dad pays for all my stuff. It has nothing to do with that woman.”
“Who is she, then?” another girl asked.
“Just some maid my dad keeps around,” Mackenzie replied.
Some maid.
I stood outside the classroom door, holding the iced matcha latte I had picked up for her on the way. Her favorite order. Light ice, two pumps of vanilla.
I walked over to the trash can and dropped it in.
When I got home, I confronted Paul.
“Mac called me her maid to her friends today.”
Paul didn’t even look up from his laptop.
“She’s just a kid trying to look cool, Gwen. Don’t take it personally.”
“I have spent nearly seventy grand on her, Paul. And she calls me her maid.”
That finally got his attention. He looked at me, his brow furrowed in disappointment.
“Why are you keeping a ledger? We’re a family. What’s yours is mine, what’s mine is yours. Why divide it up?”
A family.
She calls me the help, and you call us a family.
I didn’t say anything else that night.
It wasn’t that I didn’t have the words.
It was that I was waiting for the right moment.
I have a very specific personality trait. I can tolerate a lot. But the moment I decide to react, I don’t just trim the branches. I rip the tree out by its roots.
My best friend, Delia, is a corporate litigator. She always joked that with my temperament, I belonged in a courtroom.
I used to laugh when she said that.
I wasn’t laughing anymore.
Because I was going to need a very good lawyer.
3.
After my mother-in-law moved in, my daily life shifted from “unfair” to “suffocating.”
She commandeered my home office.
My bookshelves, my desktop monitor, my yoga matâall unceremoniously shoved into the cramped laundry room.
I tried to set a boundary. Barbara, I need that space. I work from home two days a week.
She just clicked her tongue. “You sit at a computer all day. You can do that at the kitchen table. Look at my kneesâyou expect an old woman to sleep on a pull-out couch?”
Paul chimed in from the doorway.
It was a sentence that would echo in my head for three years.
“Just compromise a little, Gwen. What’s the big deal? She’s my mother.”
Fine.
I compromised.
I gave up the office. I gave up control of my kitchen. I gave up the living room TV. I gave up the title of “woman of the house.”
Barbara woke up at seven sharp every morning and sat at the kitchen island, waiting to be served.
I would set a plate down. She would take one bite, chew slowly, and frown.
“Too salty.”
The next day: “Too bland.”
The third day: “Mackenzie hates asparagus, Gwen. How do you not know that by now?”
I knew.
Of course I knew.
But what she liked and what Mackenzie liked were two completely different things. Was I supposed to cook a la carte for every meal?
I never asked the question out loud. Because I knew exactly what Paul would say.
Can’t you just make both?
Barbara treated Mackenzie like royalty.
She slipped her twenties. She bought her clothes. She took her to the mall on weekends.
Then she would come home and say to me, “Mac saw a purse she really wants. It’s about three hundred bucks. You should order it for her.”
I should order it.
Not her son.
Once, Mackenzie scored in the top five of her class on a mock exam, and Barbara spent all afternoon cooking a massive celebratory dinner.
When I passed my CPA licensing exam? Silence. Not a single word of congratulations.
I swallowed all of it.
Until the incident that finally cracked the foundation of my patience.
Last winter, I came down with a 102.5-degree fever.
I was shivering violently, buried under three duvets in the master bedroom.
Paul was away on a business trip.
Barbara was in the living room watching game shows at top volume.
Mackenzie was in her room, screaming at a multiplayer video game.
I called Paul and told him how sick I was.
His response: “Take some Advil and drink water, Gwen. I’m in meetings.”
I dragged myself out of bed, called an Uber, and went to urgent care alone.
I was severely dehydrated. They hooked me up to an IV. I was in and out of the clinic for three days getting fluids and antibiotics.
In those three days, not a single person came to check on me.
Not one phone call.
Not one text message.
On the afternoon I finally came home, I unlocked the front door.
Mackenzie was sprawled on the sofa. She looked over at me, and her very first words were:
“Where’s dinner? I’m starving.”
Barbara was in the kitchen, microwaving a frozen pizza.
She glanced over her shoulder at me.
“Oh, you’re back. Good. The fridge is completely empty. Make sure you hit Whole Foods tomorrow.”
I stood in the entryway, my hand still clutching the crumpled receipts from the clinic.
Twelve hundred dollars out of pocket. I checked myself in. I sat with the IV alone. I paid the bill alone.
No one cared where I had been.
They only cared when I was going to resume my shift in the kitchen.
I lay in bed that night and stared at the ceiling for hours.
I wasn’t thinking about whether or not I should get a divorce.
I was thinking about how to get back every single thing they had stolen from me before I walked out the door.
4.
If it were just a bratty stepdaughter and a toxic mother-in-law, I might have held on a little longer.
But the person who truly froze my blood was Paul.
In three years of marriage, his vocabulary seemed limited to three phrases:
“Just compromise.”
“Don’t be so petty.”
“We’re a family.”
I “compromised” for three years.
For three years, I covered seventy percent of our household expenses.
Paul made about six grand a month after taxes. His car payment and his portion of the mortgage took up about two. He claimed the rest went to his mom and “investments.”
But keeping this house running, feeding everyone, and funding Mackenzie’s lifestyle cost well over six grand a month just on its own.
Who covered the deficit?
I did.
I’m a senior accountant. I take home eight grand a month.
I was bleeding roughly four thousand dollars a month into this family. Over three years, that was well over a hundred and forty thousand dollars just in household subsidies.
Add in Mackenzie’s sixty-eight grand for tutoring and activities. Add in Barbara’s medical billsâshe had a minor surgery last year that cost four grand out of pocket. Paul said he was “tight on cash.” I paid it.
I kept a meticulously organized folder of every bank transfer, every credit card statement, every receipt.
But the money wasn’t what broke my heart.
What broke me was what I found on his phone.
Last month, Paul asked me to pay his phone bill because his app was glitching.
While I was in his Venmo to transfer the funds, I tapped into his recurring payments.
Every single month, on the 15th, an automatic transfer went out.
Amount: $1,500.
Recipient note: For Mac’s Mom.
Mac’s Mom.
His ex-wife.
The woman he explicitly told me had walked out when Mackenzie was two and hadn’t been heard from since.
Fifteen hundred dollars. Every month.
I scrolled back through the transaction history. It started the exact month we got married.
Three years.
Fifteen hundred dollars times thirty-six months.
Fifty-four thousand dollars.
He told me he was tight on cash. He told me the household was too expensive.
In reality, he was secretly funding his ex-wife to the tune of eighteen grand a year.
And the kicker? The Venmo was his, but which bank account was it pulling from?
My secondary checking account.
Six months into our marriage, he said his primary account got locked due to suspected fraud and asked if he could link my card temporarily so his auto-pays wouldn’t bounce.
I hadn’t thought twice about it. I had trusted my husband.
Fifty-four thousand dollars.
My money.
Keeping his ex-wife comfortable for three years.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t throw anything. I didn’t say a single word.
I quietly took screenshots of every single transfer, emailed them to a secure server, and deleted the evidence from his phone.
Then I walked out to my car and called Delia.
“I need you to run a quiet background check for me,” I said.
“On who?” she asked, her lawyer voice instantly activating.
“See if Paul has retained or consulted with any divorce attorneys in the last six months.”
Silence hung on the line for three heavy seconds.
“What exactly are you suspecting, Gwen?”
“I’m suspecting he didn’t marry me for love.”
“Give me forty-eight hours,” Delia said.
Two days later, she sent me a voice memo.
Her tone was grim.
“Gwen. Sit down before you open the files I just sent.”
5.
Delia didn’t just send one file.
It was a compiled dossier of screenshots.
Three months ago, Paul had posted anonymously on a prominent legal advice forum. He used a fake name, but the burner email he registered with was linked to his cell number.
His query read: If a spouseâs pre-marital property is bought out by a commercial developer, is the other spouse or the stepchild entitled to a cut of the settlement?
A verified attorney had replied: Generally, pre-marital assets remain separate property. However, if the stepchild is legally named as a resident beneficiary of a family trust tied to that property, they may be legally entitled to a portion of the relocation buyout or a beneficiary settlement.
Paul followed up: What if a divorce is initiated before the buyout? Does the stepchild retain their beneficiary status and the payout?
Attorney: It depends on the specific language of the trust, but generally, yes, the child’s claim as a beneficiary remains separate from the marital dissolution. I strongly advise a formal consultation.
I read the exchange three times.
Each read felt like a bucket of ice water down my spine.
I clicked to the next image.
It was a transcript of a text exchange between Paul and a local real estate attorney. Delia had pulled a massive favor to get it.
Attorney: Paul, I’ve reviewed your situation. Your daughter has been listed as a beneficiary on the property trust for three years. Herman Development is offering aggressive buyouts. Under current state precedent, a minor beneficiary could be entitled to roughly $150,000 as a trust payout upon the sale of the property.
Paul: So Mac can walk away with $150k?
Attorney: It’s a strong case. But be aware, the primary grantor (your wife) has the power to amend or revoke the trust at any time. I highly recommend you do not arouse any suspicion until the developer makes the formal public offer.
Paul replied with a thumbs-up emoji.
Then, he sent one more text.
Don’t worry. She has absolutely no idea.
She has absolutely no idea.
I funded his life for three years. I spent nearly seventy grand raising his daughter. I allowed him to tie his kid to my father’s house.
And he was sitting in an attorney’s office typing, She has absolutely no idea.
I set my phone face-down on the counter.
I felt incredibly calm.
It wasn’t a peaceful calm. It was the absolute zero temperature you reach when you bypass fury entirely.
I picked the phone back up and scrolled to the final screenshot.
Paul to the attorney: If I file for divorce right after the buyout, is there any way I can claim a portion of the house’s value?
Attorney: No, the house is strictly hers. But your daughter’s $150k trust payout is untouchable by the divorce proceedings.
Paul: Understood. We wait for the developer’s announcement then.
The date on the texts? Last month.
Herman Development was scheduled to hold their block-wide buyout meeting next week.
His master plan was sickeningly clear.
Wait for the buyout. Secure the $150,000 for his daughter. File for divorce.
A hundred and fifty grand, plus the seventy grand I had already sunk into his kid.
He hadn’t spent a dime, and he was planning to walk away a quarter of a million dollars richer.
I dialed Delia.
“I need you to execute two things immediately.”
“Name them,” she said.
“First, draft the paperwork to revoke the family trust. I am the sole grantor. Remove Mackenzie entirely. Wipe her off the deed.”
“And the second?”
“Draft the divorce papers.”
“What are your terms?”
“He walks away with nothing. Absolute zero.”
Delia paused for a microsecond.
“Ruthless.”
“I’m not being ruthless,” I said. “I’m just returning fire.”
When I walked into the house that evening, Mackenzie was doing homework at the dining table.
She didn’t look up.
“Is dinner ready yet?”
I looked at her.
This girl, who I had bled myself dry to support, who called me the maid.
Her father was actively plotting to steal my inheritance, using her as the Trojan horse.
And she had no idea.
Or maybeâmaybe she did.
“It’s on the stove,” I said smoothly.
I offered her a small, tight smile.
Enjoy it. It’s one of the last meals I will ever cook in this house.
6.
For the next two weeks, I was a ghost operating a machine.
I was pulling the net tight.
Delia confirmed it was entirely legal. The house was my pre-marital asset. I was the sole creator of the revocable living trust. Mackenzie was not my biological child. I had the unilateral right to dissolve the trust and remove her as a beneficiary.
I went to the county clerk’s office to file the amendment.
The clerk looked over the forms. “You have your ID and the original deed? Since she’s not a direct dependent by blood, you have full authority to remove her.”
“Do I need his signature?” I asked.
“No. Only the grantor’s signature is required. We will process it and send a standard notification to the household.”
No signature required.
Three years ago, he had begged me for my signature.
Three years later, he wouldn’t even get the chance to beg me on his knees to stop.
Because when I filed the paperwork, I didn’t say a word to anyone.
I was waiting for my moment.
Next Thursday was the Herman Development town hall meeting at the community center.
Every homeowner on the block was mandated to attend.
Paul would be there.
He would wear his mask of the “loving father and supportive husband.”
And I was going to stand in front of the entire neighborhood and rip that mask clean off his face.
For two weeks, I played my part flawlessly. I cooked. I went to work. I drove Mackenzie to the stables.
Paul noticed absolutely nothing.
Barbara noticed nothing.
Only Mackenzie picked up on a slight shift.
During dinner one night, she squinted at me over her plate.
“You’re being weirdly quiet lately.”
I smiled.
“Just tired.”
She rolled her eyes and went back to her phone.
I used the serving tongs to place a perfectly glazed rib onto her plate.
It was the very last time I would ever serve her.
On Wednesday night, Paul took a phone call in the hallway.
When he hung up, he walked into the living room rubbing his hands together, grinning at Barbara. “Mom, the town hall is tomorrow night. We should all go. Make sure Mac comes so we can register her presence for the record.”
Barbara’s eyes lit up with predatory glee.
“Does that mean… the money is finally happening?”
Paul aggressively shushed her, his eyes darting toward the kitchen where I was washing dishes.
“Keep your voice down, Mom,” he hissed.
But Barbara couldn’t hide the greedy pull of her smile.
I was standing at the sink. I heard every single word.
Paul sauntered into the kitchen and draped a heavy, affectionate arm across my shoulders.
“Hey, honey. The developer meeting is tomorrow. Let’s all go together. I’ll handle all the talking and the paperwork, okay? You won’t have to stress about a thing.”
His voice was dripping with that same soft, considerate velvet he had used three years ago when he asked me to put his daughter on the trust.
I turned off the faucet and nodded.
“Okay. You handle the talking.”
He kissed my cheek and walked away, practically skipping.
I dried my hands on a towel, walked over to my purse, and touched the thick manila envelope tucked inside.
The revocation documents.
Tomorrow.
To your face.
In front of everyone.
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