Category: English

1 The day Paul Moore went bankrupt, he threw me his last savings on a black card. “You don’t have to stay,” he said. I tore my Harvard acceptance in half. “We sink or swim together.” The heiress who once spent fortunes on meals learned to clip coupons and argue over ten cents. When he fought his way back, he promised me a wedding of the century. I was nervous but happy. Then I saw him through a half-open door, sliding my diamond ring onto a starlet’s finger. “Won’t Ava be upset you’re giving everything to Mia?” Paul smiled. “She gave up Harvard for me when we were poor. She can handle anything.” He chuckled coldly. “If she had the guts to leave over this, I’d respect her more.” My blood turned to ice. A bitter laugh escaped me. Fine. If he wants me to leave—I’ll leave. … “What is the meaning of this?” A black card hit Paul Moore square in the face. Mia Brooks frowned, her delicate brows knitting together. “Paul, I told you, I’m not some canary you keep in a golden cage!” The moment the card struck his cheek, the air in the room grew thick with tension. But Paul just smiled, letting it fall to the floor. He looked at the pouting girl before him, his thumb gently caressing the diamond ring on her finger. “My fault, darling. I shouldn’t have treated you like a girl who can be bought.” Mia snatched her hand back, crossing her arms and turning away. “I told you from the start, I’m with you because I like you. Your money has nothing to do with it! If you can’t understand that, then we’re through!” “Mia, come on.” Paul reached for her, but she slapped his hand away. The indomitable Paul Moore, a titan of industry, was reduced to a helpless, smiling fool by a starlet’s temper tantrum. He shot a look at his friends, his eyes overflowing with a sickeningly sweet adoration. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” “Get lost!” He pulled her into his arms. “Alright, alright, it’s my fault. How about I make it up to you? The Zenith Award for Best Actress this weekend. It’s yours. How does that sound?” Mia’s expression softened. My own fists clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms. Someone in the room spoke up. “Mr. Moore, wasn’t that award promised to Ava?” “Mia’s just as deserving,” he said, pulling her onto his lap. “She works hard, she’s a talented actress. The nominations haven’t been announced yet, so we’ll just make a little change.” Before his assistant could even move, I kicked the door wide open. Paul immediately pushed Mia off his lap. “Ava?” I ignored the sharp, familiar pain in my lower back and stared daggers at him. “Who are you giving that award to?” Paul’s gaze fell. To get the perfect shot for my last film, I’d refused a stunt double for a high-fall scene. The landing had been brutal, leaving me with eighteen steel pins in my spine. I was back on set the same day, pushing through the agony to keep us on schedule. He was there. He saw it all. He knew I’d collapsed in tears of pain the moment the cameras stopped rolling, my body slick with a cold sweat as I leaned against him. But now, he avoided my gaze. “Mia’s a newcomer. It hasn’t been easy for her to get this far. You’re a veteran, Ava. Let her have it.” “Never!” I pointed a trembling finger at Mia. “If she were better than me, fine! But while I was memorizing my lines until dawn, she was mumbling ‘1-2-3-4-5-6-7’ to the camera! While I was doing my own stunts, she was using eight different body doubles for a single scene! You’re going to give an award that a real actor might work eight years to earn to this… this mannequin?” “Ava!” Paul’s voice was a whip crack. His eyes, usually so warm when they looked at me, were now filled with an icy unfamiliarity. “Know your place!” The words hung in the air. Even he seemed surprised by them. I stared at him, incredulous. “My place? Do you mean my place as a veteran actress, or my place as your girlfriend of ten years?” “Ava, I…” He seemed to realize his mistake. The things we say without thinking are often the most revealing. They’re the truth. “Look, Ava, you don’t have to treat me like your enemy.” Mia lifted her chin, her expression a mask of arrogant nonchalance. “I’m not interested in petty female rivalries. I just happen to like Paul, and I’m not afraid to go after what I want.” She dangled the black card in front of my face. “He tried to give this to me. I refused. I’ve always been the type to earn what I want. So relax. Unlike you, I have no interest in his money. When I like someone, it has nothing to do with their bank account.” She tossed the card at me, and it fluttered to my feet. Then she turned to leave, but at a subtle nod from Paul, one of his men blocked her path. “Now, why would you leave?” Paul rose, sweeping Mia into his arms. “Change the nomination,” he ordered his assistant. “Take Ava’s name off the list and replace it with Mia’s.” “Paul!” “And,” he cut me off, his voice softening as he looked down at Mia, his eyes filled with that same doting look, “my spending money on you is my business. It has nothing to do with you. You’ll never be just a kept woman to me.” Mia squirmed playfully in his arms before finally relenting. As he carried her out, she glanced back at me over his shoulder, a flicker of triumphant satisfaction in her eyes. I sat in my car, parked in the garage, and slammed my fist against the steering wheel. I never cared about winning the Zenith Award. I only got into acting in the first place to help make ends meet for Paul and me. I, who had never bowed to anyone, had to smile and grovel for a bit part. But slowly, I fell in love with the craft. Even after Paul rebuilt his empire and offered me a hundred million dollars to quit, to stop putting myself through hell, I couldn’t. He understood then that acting had become a part of me. From that day on, he supported me, never holding me back. When I stumbled back into our apartment, my mind a numb fog, I found it wasn’t empty. “This one, and this one. Take them all.” Mia was directing a moving crew, pointing at my crystal ornaments and gold statuettes. “Put that down! Who let you in here?” My sudden shout made her jump, a hand flying to her chest. Her fear quickly morphed into annoyance. “What are you yelling for? Paul registered my fingerprint for the door. I can come and go as I please. Hey! That one, too! Take it all to the new house Paul got for me!” She was pointing at a small gold ring on my vanity. It was less than five grams. Paul had bought it for me when we were at our poorest, after living on instant noodles for three months straight. He had sworn to me then that he would give me the world. Even now, with necklaces worth eight figures, that little ring was my most treasured possession. I slammed my hand down on the mover’s, stopping him. My smile was pure acid. “I thought you didn’t care about a man’s money, Ms. Brooks? Are you really so desperate that you won’t even leave behind a trinket worth less than three hundred dollars?” Mia’s face darkened. “It’s not about the money. It’s about the principle. Wherever the money flows, love follows. You have to fight for what you want in this life, don’t you, Ava?” “I’ve never heard someone make being a gold digger sound so noble,” I sneered. “No need to be jealous,” she purred, leaning closer. “In the end, it all comes down to who Paul chooses. As for all this… I’ll gladly take it off your hands.” She then pointed to the top shelf of my closet. “That trophy looks nice. Pack it up with the rest.” I turned, and my breath hitched. It was my mother’s. “Don’t touch that!” I shoved the mover aside, grabbing the trophy and clutching it to my chest. The force of it sent Mia stumbling back. “Ava! Are you insane?” she shrieked. “It’s just a stupid trophy! It’s not like it was ever going to be yours anyway, you hack! I’m taking what’s Paul’s, what does it have to do with you? Get it from her!” “You dare!” I raised my hand, ready to strike. Mia’s face went pale, and she cowered, her arms over her head. “Ah!” “Ava!” A hand clamped down on my wrist like a vice. I turned to see Paul towering over me, his eyes blazing with disapproval. With a single, effortless motion, he flung me back against the wardrobe. “Paul!” Mia cried, throwing herself into his arms, her shoulders trembling delicately. It only made him hold her tighter. “Ava, it’s just a trophy. Why are you making a scene?” I looked up at him, my heart shattering. “What did you just say?” Only then did his eyes focus on the object in my arms. My mother’s last honor. Her last gift to me. In the days when we could barely afford food, I had sold every piece of my own jewelry, but I never once considered selling this. A complex emotion flickered across Paul’s face, and he looked away. “Mia is your junior. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. There’s no need to be so dramatic.” “Wouldn’t hurt me?” I laughed, a broken, hysterical sound. “You call coming into our home and stripping it of everything I own not hurting me?” Mia paled. Paul finally seemed to notice that nearly every valuable thing that belonged to me was now packed in the moving van outside. “Paul,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “this is the woman who wants to take the five-gram ring you gave me. And you still believe she doesn’t care about your money?” “Paul!” Mia suddenly cried out. “If you believe a word she says, I’ll leave right now. I’ll walk away from everything you’ve ever given me and never look back!” And with that, she spun around, making a show of leaving. Paul grabbed her arm, stopping her. She turned back, her voice thick with righteous indignation. “The only reason I wanted that ring is because I knew you gave it to her! I’m not some magnanimous saint. When I see something you gave to another woman, I get jealous! I don’t care if it’s a worthless piece of paper, I want it gone! But if you’re going to listen to her, if you think I’m just some money-grubbing parasite, then there’s nothing more to say!” I burst out laughing. “She wants to be the whore and the virgin queen all at once.” “I think that’s you!” Paul suddenly roared, turning on me. I froze. Mia, seeing her victory, stopped struggling. Paul pulled her back into his arms, his voice softening as he spoke to her. “Just ignore her,” he murmured, before turning his cold gaze back to me. I stared at him, my heart a leaden weight in my chest. “Paul, in your eyes, am I really that calculating?” He hesitated. But then a cold sneer twisted his lips. “Ava, be honest with yourself. When you tore up that Harvard letter, wasn’t it because you were betting I’d make a comeback, bigger and better than before? Wasn’t it just an investment?” I stared at him, the world tilting on its axis. He held Mia tighter. “Mia might have met me after I was successful, but she refuses every penny I offer her. I have to force gifts on her. Her integrity is real. Yours was just an act.” My voice trembled. “Paul… you think… you think I was pretending?” He sighed. “You know the truth in your heart. I’m doing you the courtesy of not spelling it out. So do me a favor and stop with the hysterics.” “I hope you rot in hell, Paul Moore!” I shrieked, and in a blind rage, I shoved the coffee table over. His first instinct was to shield Mia with his own body from the flying debris. “You’re a psycho, Ava!” Mia screamed, her face contorted with fury. “He’s right, isn’t he? You’re just a gold digger, and you can’t stand being called out!” If Paul wasn’t holding her back, she would have lunged at me. He left with her and the movers, leaving me alone in the wreckage. I collapsed onto the floor, surrounded by shattered glass and broken memories, gasping for breath as tears streamed down my face. He didn’t know. He had no idea. If I hadn’t stayed by his side, the empire I would have built for myself would have dwarfed his. As I began to pick up the pieces, I clutched my mother’s trophy. Fine. Once my new film is cast, we’ll divide the assets and go our separate ways. Just as I finished cleaning up the mess, my assistant called, her voice frantic. “Ava, it’s bad! They just recast the role we fought so hard for. They gave it to Mia Brooks!” The phone nearly slipped from my grasp. I stormed into Paul’s office and slammed the casting documents down on his desk. “You gave my mother’s role to that… that bitch?” He took the verbal assault without flinching, the cigar between his fingers not even trembling. “Mia is an actress with a lot of potential. You don’t need to worry.” “Paul.” I grabbed him by the collar. “My mother was a hero of science. She was finalizing her data on her deathbed! You’re going to let someone who can’t even be bothered to memorize her lines portray her? Is Mia worthy of that?” “How will we know if she’s worthy if she’s never given the chance?” My eyes burned with unshed tears. “She was my mother. No one knows her better than I do. Paul, if you let her play this part, I will use every resource at my disposal to destroy her career. I’m willing to walk away from acting forever. I mean it.” He looked at me then, a flicker of shock in his eyes. He might be the revered Mr. Moore now, but he knew that if I was willing to burn everything to the ground, I could take him down with me. He stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray and sighed. “You’d really go that far?” “Absolutely,” I bit out, my teeth clenched. He nodded slowly and dialed a number. “Cancel the casting change for Ms. Brooks. Yes, the role of Dr. Rhodes will be played by her daughter.” The tension in my shoulders finally eased. “Thank you, Mr. Moore,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I walked out without a second glance. The next day, I was scheduled for a costume fitting. But instead of a call from the studio, I woke up to my face plastered all over the internet. Private photos. Explicit photos. 365 of them. One for every day of the year. I fell out of bed. Staring at the angles of the pictures, I knew. My hands shaking, I called Paul. Mia answered. “I was the one who told Paul to release them,” she chirped, her voice oozing with fake sympathy. “What was it you said? You’d ruin my career to protect this role? Well, look at you now. Who’s ruined? I have to say, sister… you’re absolutely filthy.” My teeth ground together. “Mia!” The phone was snatched away. Paul’s voice, cold and detached, came through the line. “You can still play the part of your mother, Ava. If you can live with the fact that every time the audience sees her face, the first thing they’ll think of is you, on your back, spreading your legs.” The phone slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor. I knelt there, staring at my name trending everywhere, and I began to sob, great, gut-wrenching wails that tore through my empty apartment. My phone buzzed. An incoming call. A warm, elderly voice spoke. “Ava, darling? I heard your mother’s film is starting production? When’s the premiere? Your uncles and I are flying back to see your big debut.” My hand trembled violently. “Uncle… they… they put my private photos on the internet… I can’t do the movie anymore…” “They what?!” The calm voice erupted in fury. After I forwarded him the entertainment news links, his voice returned, shaking with rage. “So… so that’s how it is… Does he think all her old comrades are dead? He lets some little canary bully her daughter like this? Ava, don’t you worry. Every single one of your mother’s colleagues is on a plane back to the country right now. We’re coming to back you up.”

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My husband came to regret our child-free life in the twenty-fifth year of our marriage. He was forty-seven that year, a man in his prime—successful, mature, and composed. I was fifty, already stepping into menopause. He knew I wouldn’t risk a high-risk pregnancy at my age, so he asked for a divorce, offering to give me the lion’s share of our assets as compensation. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just calmly accepted. Of course, he would never know that I had regretted our child-free arrangement long ago, back in the year of his first emotional affair. And in that year of regret, I had taken matters into my own hands. By the time his own regret finally bloomed, my child was already in middle school. 1. When Trevor brought up the divorce, his demeanor was cold, almost detached. I stood there, stunned, the world tilting on its axis as I struggled to quell the storm raging inside me. My first instinct was to ask him why. Our relationship had cooled in recent years, it was true, but we were getting older. I’d assumed the fiery passion of youth was meant to mellow into a quiet companionship. Hearing my question, Trevor finally looked up from his phone, his eyes darting away from mine. “Eleanor, I’m forty-seven this year. My parents are in their seventies…” He talked in circles, a long, winding speech that all boiled down to one simple, brutal point: He didn’t want his parents to die without grandchildren. He wanted a child, and now, he finally had the time and the means to raise one. To put it plainly, Trevor had changed his mind about being child-free. At forty-seven. I am three years his senior. At fifty, my health is my priority. I would never risk my life to have a baby at this age. Trevor knew me well enough to understand that. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. “Ellie, I’m sorry,” he said, before twisting the knife. “If only you were three years younger than me instead.” The same words he once used to woo me—”an older woman is a treasure”—had now become his sharpest weapon. My expression must have been grim, my silence too long. He sighed, leaving me with a final command. “Just think it over. But I don’t want to drag this out.” With that, he turned and walked out of our home. 2. Once the initial shock subsided and a cold calm settled over me, my first call was to a private investigator. It didn’t take long to uncover the real reason for Trevor’s sudden change of heart. He had a new woman. He’d been having an affair with an intern at his company for the past two years. Now, the girl was demanding a ring on her finger, and conveniently, Trevor was demanding a baby in a crib. Staring at the stack of glossy photos spread across my desk, I felt a strange numbness. This wasn’t his first time. His first betrayal was a decade into our marriage—an emotional affair. He chose to come back to me then, and I chose to forgive him. It’s true what they say: once a cheater, always a cheater. He’d learned from his mistakes. For two years, he had hidden this affair so perfectly that I hadn’t suspected a thing. I didn’t bother contacting Trevor. Instead, I focused all my energy on gathering every last piece of evidence of his infidelity. The divorce was inevitable. My only goal now was to secure the maximum benefit for myself. The company we’d built from the ground up was now a thriving enterprise. Twenty-five years of marriage had woven our lives and finances into a complex tapestry; pulling a single thread could unravel everything. No matter how deep the love once was, in the end, it always comes down to assets. It was more than two weeks before Trevor came home again. “Have you thought about it?” were the first words out of his mouth. We hadn’t spoken a word in that time. He had a new home now, a new life. He was clearly lost in it, not giving his old one a second thought. I met his gaze and calmly slid the stack of photos across the table. “The divorce is fine. Let’s talk about the division of assets.” His eyes fell on the pictures, and the color drained from his face. “Eleanor, you had me followed?” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “If I hadn’t, how long were you planning on making a fool out of me?” 3. Trevor was not a generous man. He hadn’t grown up poor, but his family was far from wealthy, and a frugal mindset was etched into his soul. His first offer was a fifty-fifty split. Absolutely not. Betrayal has a price. When I demanded 80%, he balked, his face turning a dark shade of red. “Eleanor, this company is our life’s work! You can’t just erase all my years of dedication because of this one thing.” “Just one thing?” My voice was dripping with contempt. “Need I remind you how many times this has happened, Trevor?” His hands, hanging by his sides, clenched into tight fists. But he was guilty, and he knew it. He had no defense. I decided to press my advantage. “I’ve seen the pictures. Your taste hasn’t changed a bit. She looks just like Clara.” Clara. The object of his first emotional affair. The one that got away, who had since been enshrined in his memory as his untouchable goddess. This new girl not only resembled her, but even her name was an echo. “Clara… Cara.” I fished a solo shot of the new girl from the pile and tossed it in front of him, my smile a mocking slash. “All these years, and you’re still so devoted.” He glanced at the photo, a flash of shame and anger warring on his face before he smoothed it over. “Eleanor, even if you know, what does it matter?” It mattered because I had the proof. And that proof would get me what I deserved in the divorce settlement. Trevor’s refusal didn’t worry me. I had the law on my side. “I hate this side of you—so calculating, fighting over every last penny!” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. A cheater having a meltdown. It seemed I’d been far too easy on him over the years. As I began preparing the paperwork to file for divorce, my seventy-something mother-in-law showed up unannounced. It had been a long time since we’d seen each other. After she had defended Trevor and blamed me during his first affair, I knew exactly what kind of family I had married into. She beat around the bush for a while before finally getting to the point. “Eleanor, darling, I’ve heard about you and Trevor,” she said, sighing dramatically. “He’s at that age, you know, I can’t control him. In the end, I suppose it just wasn’t meant to be.” She rambled on, her words a thinly veiled accusation—if only I had listened to her and had a child years ago… I cut her off. “It was Trevor’s idea not to have children.” She fell silent, abandoning that line of attack and pivoting to the finances. “…You’re fifty years old now, Eleanor. What are you going to do with all that money?” The implication was clear: at my age, unable to have children, who would I even leave it to? Anyone but her scumbag son, that’s who. I’d rather throw it into a river just to hear the splash. My refusal to budge infuriated her. As she left, her cloudy eyes fixed on me with a venomous glare. “Eleanor, a woman who’s too stubborn in a marriage never ends up happy.” As if the alternative was to beg him to stay. 4. Faced with my unyielding stance on the assets, Trevor resorted to his old trick: the silent treatment. It was a conditioned response for him; whenever things didn’t go his way, he would freeze me out. But this time, it didn’t last long. His new girl, Cara, had given him an ultimatum: make her an honest woman, or she was gone. A woman in her early twenties has options, after all. Another man could provide for her just as well. Trevor couldn’t bear to lose her. He was still haunted by the loss of Clara, and Cara was a second chance, a near-perfect replica. So he came back, ready to negotiate, even trying to use our shared history to emotionally blackmail me. I held firm, my resolve like iron. When he wouldn’t let up, I finally unleashed years of pent-up rage, dressing him down with every harsh truth I had swallowed. He stood there, his face a mask of fury, but he couldn’t refute a single word. Because everything I said was true. When he ran out of arguments, he resorted to a desperate, twisted logic. “Eleanor, I never demanded fidelity from you in this marriage.” Ah. That was the line I’d been waiting for.

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My life was a fairytale woven from silk and silver spoons. As a child, I was my father and brother’s cherished doll; as a woman, I became Rich Blackwood’s treasured possession. I was a beautiful ornament drifting through my twenties without a care, surrounded by couture and curated perfection. Nothing more was expected of me. I never questioned this life—until my estranged mother returned from Europe with my sister, Aurora. Aurora was everything I wasn’t: brilliant, poised, a force of nature. She dove into the family business, planning its future with Rich in conversations full of ambition I couldn’t grasp. One evening, drawn by a painful curiosity, I crept into the corporate headquarters and overheard them. A woman’s sharp voice asked, “Still here, Mr. Blackwood? Won’t the little lady at home get jealous?” Rich’s reply was cold and dismissive: “Jealous? What could she do? Without me, Katie is nothing—a pretty canary in the gilded cage I built. A broken, useless thing.” My world shattered. Then I saw my brother, Ethan, standing beside him, his expression cold and detached. “Katie has always been spoiled,” he said without warmth. “A little hardship will do her good.” 1 The morning sun filtered through my silk curtains, but it was Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper, who gently woke me. I drifted into the master bathroom where a steaming bath already awaited, the water infused with lavender oils. Even my toothbrush was prepared, a perfect ribbon of mint paste squeezed onto the bristles. “Call if you need anything, Miss Katie,” Mrs. Gable’s voice came softly from outside the door. After my bath, I sat at my vanity, applying a light, dewy makeup. Mrs. Gable then escorted me to the breakfast solarium. Rich was already there, impeccably dressed, his eyes fixed on a tablet. He didn’t even look up as I sat down. “I won’t be back tonight,” he announced to the air. “Things are busy at the office.” I bit my lip, a familiar knot of resentment tightening in my chest. “Busy at the office, or busy with Aurora? You’re with her constantly these days.” His fingers stilled on the screen. Rich finally lifted his gaze, his gray eyes cold and sharp. “She is your sister, Katie. And a brilliant business partner. Aurora is not someone whose name you get to drag through the mud with petty gossip.” The rebuke stung like a slap. Tears pricked my eyes. “Am I wrong? She’s been back for two months, and you’ve spent more time with her than with me. Have you been home on time even once in those two months?” A flash of pure annoyance crossed his face. He dabbed his lips with a linen napkin, the gesture precise and final. “This is childish.” He rose, slipped on his tailored coat, and left without another word. My appetite vanished. I fled back to my room and let the tears come, a storm of frustration that ruined my carefully applied makeup. “Am I not beautiful anymore, Mrs. Gable?” I asked her later, my voice thick with misery. “Why does he treat me like this?” She hesitated, her kind eyes filled with a pity I hated. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, Miss Katie.” And she was right. How could I not be? Beauty was my life’s work. Skincare regimens, cosmetic artists, personal stylists, photographers—every waking moment was dedicated to crafting an image of flawless perfection. I was exquisite, a living work of art. Rich used to love this part of me. He used to adore his perfect doll. But since Aurora arrived, everything had changed. Aurora was my half-sister. When my parents’ bitter divorce tore our family apart years ago, my mother chose her. She took Aurora to Europe, and I was left with my father. I had screamed and cried, but my father and my brother, Ethan, smothered my grief with affection. They built a world for me where no shadow could touch me, a gilded cage I never knew I was in. I never had to lift a finger for anything. Private cars whisked me from one high-end boutique to another, my passport stamped with luxury destinations before I was twenty. Then came the arranged marriage. I was introduced to Rich Blackwood, and after a year of meticulously orchestrated courtship, we wed. Our marriage had been a merger, a contract sealing the Sterling and Blackwood empires. Rich continued where my father and brother left off. He sheltered me, pampered me, and never burdened me with the details of his world. All he asked was for me to be his beautiful, cheerful wife, waiting for him at home. I’d fill the silence of our massive house with my chatter about a new dress I’d bought, a disastrous makeup attempt, or which photo filter made me look best. He would listen, or at least pretend to, his patience a form of condescension I was too naive to recognize. Everyone envied me. At twenty-eight, I was still a princess, insulated from reality. First by my family, then by my husband. The truth was, I was useless. I had no skills, no ambitions. Without a team of staff, I couldn’t even manage a day on my own. I never thought this was a problem. Not until Aurora came back. When my mother and Aurora walked through the arrivals gate at the airport, they were a vision of power. My mother, elegant in a camel trench coat, was a force of nature, already taking calls, her voice crisp with authority. Aurora stood by her side, a younger, sharper reflection—poised, vibrant, exuding a confidence that was utterly foreign to me. They were a power duo, straight out of a business magazine. My father, there to greet them, was as stunned as I was. My mother’s eyes landed on me, and a small frown creased her brow. For the first time in my life, I looked down at my frilly princess dress and felt a hot wave of shame. I felt childish and flimsy. That was the moment the panic set in. A deep, primal sense of crisis. From that day on, everything shifted. Aurora’s brilliance captivated everyone. My father, Ethan, and even Rich looked at her with an admiration they never showed me. Suddenly, my carefully constructed world of beauty and leisure seemed shallow and pathetic. I, the pampered daughter, was a footnote in my own family’s story. Jealousy, sharp and ugly, took root in my heart. And it bloomed into a raging inferno the moment I realized Rich was just as captivated by her as everyone else. 2 After Rich left, a gray mood settled over me for the rest of the day. By evening, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to see him. I had to know. The driver dropped me at the gleaming Blackwood Corp tower. I rode the private elevator up, my heels clicking ominously on the marble floor. The main offices were dark and silent, but a sliver of light escaped from under Rich’s office door. I slipped out of my shoes and crept closer, my heart pounding. Through the narrow gap where the door was slightly ajar, I could see them. Rich and Aurora, sitting across from each other, smiling, their rapport easy and intimate. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. Then I heard Aurora’s voice, smooth as silk. “Still here, Mr. Blackwood? Won’t the little lady at home get jealous?” Rich’s brow furrowed slightly. “Don’t worry about her.” Aurora laughed, a light, musical sound. “I heard from Mrs. Gable that Katie’s been quite upset lately. Maybe you should head home.” Rich let out a short, cold huff of air. His voice was a low, dismissive drawl laced with a scorn that cut me to the bone. “Jealous? What could she possibly do? Without me, Katie is nothing. Just a pretty canary in a gilded cage I built for her. A broken, useless thing.” My blood ran cold. Rich… did he really see me that way? Just as a surge of furious tears burned my eyes, another voice chimed in, calm and familiar. “Katie’s always been spoiled. A little hardship will do her good.” My head snapped up. Through the crack in the door, I saw him. My brother. Ethan. Standing right there, his expression placid, as if discussing the weather. “She’s not a child anymore,” he continued. “If she throws a tantrum over something this small, who could stand it? It’s time her rough edges were smoothed out.” My hand flew to my mouth to stifle a gasp, my body trembling so violently I thought I would collapse. My movement must have made a sound, because Rich’s head shot up, his eyes narrowing on the door. “Who’s there?” Panic seized me. I scrambled backward, grabbing my shoes and running. Pride, the only thing I had left, wouldn’t let me stay. I couldn’t bear the thought of Aurora seeing me like this, her eyes filled with the same pity I saw in everyone else’s. I fled, tears streaming down my face. In the back of the car, I sobbed uncontrollably. Rich despised me. And Ethan, my protector, my beloved brother, had betrayed me. He’d thrown me to the wolves. They didn’t love me anymore. It was nearly midnight when Rich finally came home. I was waiting for him in the dark, sitting ramrod straight on the living room sofa. He entered silently, shrugging off his coat and hanging it with detached precision. My eyes were swollen and red. Before I could even speak, he broke the silence. “You came to the office today.” It wasn’t a question. His voice was cold. I gritted my teeth. “Yes. I did.” He sighed, a sound of profound weariness, rubbing his temples. “That was you at the door, wasn’t it?” “What if it was, Rich?” My voice shook with rage. “If I hadn’t gone, I never would have known what you really think of me! If you despise me so much, why did you marry me? You never loved me, did you?” The tears started again, hot trails of humiliation and anger. He looked at me with open frustration. “Katie, I’m exhausted. I don’t have the energy for this drama. Things are incredibly stressful right now, and I can’t deal with these petty games. Can you please just stop?” The air left my lungs. “Petty games…” I whispered, incredulous. “This is a ‘petty game’ to you? The fact that my husband thinks I’m worthless is a petty game? Do you even care about me at all?” He just stared at me as if I were a hysterical child. “I’m going to bed. If you’re still in a mood, go shopping tomorrow. Book a spa day. I’ll have my assistant arrange it.” He turned to leave. “Rich,” I called out, my voice dangerously quiet. “I want a divorce. Is that also a petty game?” He froze, his back rigid. Slowly, he turned around. A cold, humorless smile touched his lips. “Divorce me? Are you sure about that?” He took a step closer. “Was anything I said untrue? You’ve lived off my money, off your father’s money, your entire life. Tell me, Katie, without me, what are you? What could you possibly do?” I stood there, speechless and shattered. He softened his voice then, but his eyes were devoid of warmth. It was the tone one uses to soothe a frightened pet. “Katie. Be a good girl. Once this project is over, I’ll take you on a trip. Anywhere you want to go.” He disappeared into the bedroom. I remained on the sofa, sitting in the darkness all night long, as the last remnants of my love for him turned to ash. 3 The next day, I drove to my father’s house. When I walked into his study, my mother was there, deep in conversation with him. Dad looked up, surprised. “Katie, honey. What brings you here?” I glanced at my mother, suddenly unsure of how to begin. Sensing my hesitation, she stood up gracefully. “You two talk. I’ll go rest for a bit.” My father watched her leave, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. As soon as the door closed, the words tumbled out of me. “I want to divorce Rich.” His expression shifted from surprise to weary disbelief. I told him everything, my voice breaking as I recounted the previous night, the tears I’d tried so hard to suppress finally falling. My father had always been helpless against my tears. When I finished, his jaw was tight with anger. “I know, honey, I know. I’ll have a serious talk with Rich. He went way too far this time.” I shook my head fiercely. “No. I don’t want you to talk to him. I want a divorce. He despises me, Dad.” He fell silent. Under my pleading gaze, he finally sighed, the fight draining out of him. “Katie, don’t be dramatic. It’s a small argument. It’s not worth ending a marriage over. Rich is under a lot of pressure with this new project. A scene like this will only distract him.” A chill went through me. “You think I’m being dramatic, too?” “Katie,” he said, his voice taking on a patronizing tone. “You’re a grown woman now, not a little girl. You may not be able to help run a company like your sister, but you can be a supportive partner to your husband. This kind of behavior will only push him away.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. Why was no one on my side? “Ever since Aurora came back, all of you have changed! In your eyes, she’s the perfect daughter, and I’m just the stupid, useless one. You look down on me just like he does, don’t you?” His eyes were filled with a weary helplessness. “Don’t be difficult, Katie. Of course I don’t look down on you. But this is reality. You’re an adult now. You can’t expect everyone to cater to your moods like when you were a child.” “But you promised!” I cried out. “You and Ethan promised you would protect me forever, that you’d never let me be unhappy!” He had no answer for that. He just changed the subject. “I’ll have Rich over for dinner tonight. I’ll make sure he apologizes. We’ll put this whole thing behind us.” I stood up, trembling. “Whether you approve or not, I’m getting this divorce. I don’t need your permission.” As I stormed out, I saw my mother coming down the stairs. I heard my father’s voice, heavy with disappointment, drift from the study. “You were right. I ruined her. She’s spoiled, selfish, thinks only of herself…” The floor fell out from beneath me. They were the ones who had made me this way. They were the ones who told me my only job was to be happy. And now, they despised me for it. If they felt that way, why did they ever make those promises? I went back to the house and started packing, but after a lifetime of being waited on, I didn’t even know where most of my things were. Mrs. Gable watched me with a pained expression. “Miss Katie, Mr. Blackwood gave orders that you are not to leave. And that we are not to assist you.” Gritting my teeth, I wrestled my clothes into a suitcase. Just as I was about to drag it out the door, Ethan’s car pulled into the driveway. His face darkened the moment he saw the luggage. He strode over, snatched the suitcase from my hand, and threw it to the ground. The clasps burst open, spilling my dresses across the pristine floor. “Katie, have you lost your mind? Stop this ridiculous tantrum!” My eyes burned, but I held his gaze. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. You’re the ones who are wrong! I am divorcing Rich.” A mocking sneer twisted his lips. “You’re twenty-eight, Katie, not eighteen. Do you really think these histrionics are helping? We spoiled you so badly you can’t even see how pathetic you look. This behavior is just… repulsive.” His words hit me like a physical blow. I dropped to my knees and began stuffing my clothes back into the broken suitcase, my voice a stubborn whisper. “Fine. Then you can all hate me. I don’t need any of you.” I managed to close the lid. Ethan laughed coldly. “And where will you go? Dad won’t welcome you home, and he certainly won’t be giving you any more money. Let’s see how long your little rebellion lasts when you’re cut off.” I froze. He was right. I had no money of my own. I didn’t even know how to rent an apartment. The world outside my gilded cage was a terrifying mystery. Just then, Rich arrived. He saw me on the floor, clutching my suitcase. He strode over and pulled me to my feet, his grip like iron. His voice was cold as he addressed the staff. “Take my wife back to her room. Watch her. Don’t let her cause any more trouble.” “Yes, sir.” I was being dragged away, a prisoner in my own home. My mind reeled. “Ethan…” I pleaded, looking back at my brother. He just stared at me, his face a mask of indifference. “It’s time you grew up, Katie. If you were half as sensible as Aurora, my life would be so much easier.” Tears streamed down my face. “Ethan, please! Don’t let them lock me up! Please!” My cries echoed in the hall as the bedroom door clicked shut behind me. For three days, they kept me there. No one came. My father and brother had handed me over to another man, letting him do as he pleased, condoning this… imprisonment. It was in that silent room that I finally understood. If I wanted to be free, I had to rely on myself. On the third day, when Rich finally opened the door, the tears were gone. I looked at him, my voice steady and clear. “Rich, I want to start a business.”

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I have liver cancer. For three years, I waited for the man I loved to bring back the only woman in the world who could save me. He finally returned to my deathbed today. But he stood in front of her, shielding her from my gaze, and pleaded with me, “She’s scared of the pain. Can we just… not have her do it?” 1 Seven years. I’ve been living with liver cancer for seven years. And, of course, I have the kind of rare, Rh-negative blood that makes a transplant a statistical nightmare. A ghost orchid in a field of daisies. So when they found a match, a one-in-a-million shot, Leo booked a flight. He went to chase her down himself, wherever she was. He swore to me, one hand on his heart, the other clutching his passport. “One week, Anna. I’ll bring her back in one week.” But one week bled into a year. Then two. Then three. I didn’t see Leo again until the hospital had issued my ninth critical condition notice. He finally stood before me, but he wasn’t alone. He was shielding a girl behind him, his voice rough with a feeling I couldn’t place. “Anna,” he said, his throat tight. “She’s scared of the pain. Can we… can we just not have her do it?” “What the hell, Leo? Are you even human?” The voice was Mia’s, my best friend, sharp enough to cut glass. She looked ready to launch herself across the room and tear him apart. But Leo’s eyes were locked on me. “Anna. Please?” I blinked, pulling the cashmere blanket tighter around my shoulders, a frail shield against his words. So this was it. This was the result I’d been waiting for. It was, I decided with a sudden, hollow clarity, a bit anticlimactic. “It’s okay, Leo,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I forgot to tell you. My family found another donor. The surgery was a little while ago.” I gestured vaguely around the pristine, white room. “See? I’m here now. Recovering in Switzerland.” Mia’s eyes went wide. “Anna, what are you talking ab—” Her words were swallowed by the sudden, racking cough that seized my body. She was at my side in an instant, her hand patting my back, her eyes turning red with unshed tears. From behind Leo’s shoulder, the girl, the donor, finally peeked out. A smile bloomed on her face, revealing two slightly pointed canines that were, I had to admit, quite charming. This was her. Chloe. The girl who held my life in her hands, and who had apparently captured Leo’s soul on the way to delivering it. Leo thought I was in the dark. But I knew. Of course, I knew. The boy I’d grown up with, the one who was an extension of my own heart, had changed. He’d fallen in love on the road to saving my life. In the beginning, he’d been ruthless in his mission. He’d thrown money at her, leveraged every resource the family name could offer, everything. When she’d refused, he’d gotten ugly. He’d threatened to have her deported, to ruin the new life she was so proud of. But even when backed into a corner, Chloe had been defiant, her chin held high. “In your dreams,” she’d spat at him. “I’m not selling off parts of my body for your money. I’d rather we both go down in flames.” After that, their dynamic shifted. They became infamous rivals in their small corner of the world. Then, somehow, that fire had turned into a different kind of heat. They’d ended up in the same bed and hadn’t left for three days. And now, here they were. Three years later. Their hands were tightly clasped in front of me. He seemed to have forgotten the time we played dress-up as kids, how he’d stolen his mother’s wedding veil and placed it on my head, whispering that one day, he would marry me for real. The man in front of me now just stared, his brow furrowed in suspicion. “Then why didn’t you tell me?” Mia let out a short, bitter laugh. “Tell you? We figured you wouldn’t bother coming back until Anna was already in the ground.” Three years had curdled all the love Mia ever had for Leo into pure hatred. His face darkened instantly. “Chloe has a life of her own. She worked her ass off to get where she is in the States. You think she should just drop everything, her entire future, because you call and say you’re not feeling well?” He pulled Chloe forward slightly, a protective gesture. “She gave up a major research conference to come here for you. And for what? To find out you’re already fine? That you’ve been lying to me, wasting our time.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping. “Don’t you think you owe us an apology, Anna?” My head snapped up. There wasn’t a trace of guilt in his eyes. Only a deep, chilling annoyance. I was too tired for this. Too tired to fight. “Okay,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. Leo. Miss… Chloe. I’m sorry for the trouble.” I tried to dip my head, a pathetic attempt at a bow, but Mia’s hand shot out, her grip trembling with rage as she stopped me. “Are you insane?” she hissed under her breath. “What are you apologizing for?” Leo froze, and the anger in his eyes intensified. “You two,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “After all these years, you’re both still so goddamn selfish.” “Unbelievable.” He turned, pulling Chloe with him, and slammed the door shut with a deafening crack. The sound broke something in Mia. She finally let out a choked sob. “Anna, there is no other liver! You’re dying!” she cried, her voice ragged. “Why are you still protecting that bastard?” I had made my peace with death long ago. But hearing the word spoken so brutally, so final, sent a sharp, echoing pain through my chest. It woke the deeper, gnawing ache of the cancer that had, for a brief moment, been dormant. “Leo’s not an idiot, Mia. He can see it.” Look at me. I was practically a skeleton in a blanket, a breath away from the grave. A ghost haunting her own life. “…He just doesn’t want to save me anymore,” I finished quietly. “Besides, there’s no point. It’s too late for a transplant. Another surgery would just be… more pain. More torture.” I sighed. “Just let it go.” Mia stopped, her sobs growing louder. She knew I was right. Seven years of liver cancer had become ten. I’d slipped from early stage to terminal while I waited. I was living in a hell of constant, grinding pain, where every breath felt like a punishment. One more day was just one more day in hell. My hand, thin and brittle as a dried leaf, reached up to touch her tear-streaked face. “Hey,” I whispered. “Mia, remember what you promised me before we came to Switzerland?” “We were going to be happy. We were going to laugh. What’s with all the crying?” She turned her head away, her shoulders shaking. “I’ll cry if I want to,” she mumbled petulantly. “Maybe you’ll get so annoyed you’ll come back to life just to shut me up.” The door creaked open again. Leo stood there, back from wherever he’d stormed off to. He glanced at Mia’s red nose with a strange look, then his eyes landed on me, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. He took a few deep breaths, as if steeling himself. “Anna, there’s something I forgot to tell you.” He paused. “Chloe is my girlfriend now. I have to… I have a responsibility to her.” Another pause, this one heavier. “So… all that stuff from when we were kids, the promises… we have to just call it what it was. A joke. I’m sorry.” I tried to process the words. A joke. His confession of love, all those years ago, had been a joke. A signed, blank check appeared in front of my face. He reached out and ruffled my hair, just like he used to when we were kids. “Fill in any number you want,” he said, his voice trying for kindness and failing. “I hope you feel better soon.” I stared blankly for a long moment, until a dull ache in the back of my hand brought me back. I must have blacked out. Cool fluid was dripping into my veins from an IV. This drug was a miracle. For a little while, nothing hurt. Not my body, and not my heart. When I was fully lucid again, the only people left in the room were a grim-faced doctor and Mia, who was tearing a lab report into tiny, furious pieces. She was still trying to hide it from me. But I’d already seen the numbers. I always snuck a look. They were getting worse. Sharply worse. It was really over. The end stages are ugly for patients like me. You lose control of everything. There’s no dignity. I didn’t want that. Not while Leo was here. A bitter sting filled my eyes, but I forced a smile onto my face. “Mia,” I said softly. “I kind of miss Mom and Dad. And I don’t think I can hold on much longer.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “My birthday is in two days. Let me go then, okay? As a birthday present.”

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My husband and I adopted a girl from the slums. I taught her how to shoot, how to fight, how to read people. I molded her into one of the most capable operators in our organization. Cole said she had my fire, the same untamed spirit I’d had when we first met. He spoiled her rotten. But at the victory dinner tonight, Maya, our adopted daughter, knew I had a severe shellfish allergy. Still, she placed a grilled shrimp in my bowl, her smile all sugar. “Cassie, you know, if you just eat it a few times, the allergy might go away,” she said, her voice light. “Besides, my dog loves to copy people.” She gestured to the massive Cane Corso lying at her feet. “If you don’t eat it, he’ll learn not to eat it. And I can’t stand picky eaters.” The table, filled with our top lieutenants, erupted in sycophantic laughter. Cole just reached over and tweaked her nose playfully. “You’re just as bossy as your mother was,” he said, turning to me. “Come on, Cassie. Eat the shrimp. Set a good example for the dog.” A cold smile touched my lips. I’d been too soft for too long if he thought he could say something like that to me. 1 This wasn’t the first time Maya had tested my boundaries. The girl’s wings had grown strong. It was time they were clipped. I took a slow, deliberate sip of my iced tea. “Bring me the young lady’s dog,” I said to my guard, my voice quiet but carrying across the suddenly silent room. My men dragged the Cane Corso, a beast larger than a full-grown man, to the center of the floor. It took four of them to hold him down. At an auction last year, Maya had merely glanced at the dog. Cole, in a grand gesture to delight his “darling daughter,” dropped three million dollars on it without a second thought. The animal snarled at me, baring a row of yellowed teeth. One of my men kicked it squarely in the jaw, and a tooth went flying across the polished marble. Cole extinguished his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. He walked over and cupped my face, his tone laced with a condescending playfulness. “Cassandra. Are you angry? We were just teasing you.” I brushed his hand away, my eyes like chips of ice. I nodded to my men. “Beat it,” I ordered. “If you kill it, it’s on my tab.” I turned to watch the color drain from Maya’s face. “Someone filed a complaint with me yesterday,” I said conversationally. “They said your dog snatched a steak right out of their bowl. Then, it ran over to the neighbor’s kennel and screwed the dog next door’s husband.” I paused, letting the words hang in the air. “Maya, darling. It seems your dog really does love to copy people. The only question is… who is it learning from?” Her face went from white to a blotchy, furious red. She dropped to her knees in front of me. “Mom, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’ll train General better, I promise.” Her voice was a desperate plea. “They’re going to kill him. Please, Mom, make them stop.” Cole, who had been listening to my thinly veiled insults, remained silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “Cassie. Tell your men to stop. Don’t make this ugly.” I’ve never responded well to threats. I pulled the sleek pistol from the holster at my back, aimed it at the dog, and pulled the trigger. “No!” Maya screamed, lunging forward. The bullet grazed her cheek, leaving a thin red line. A second later, a neat, dark hole appeared in the center of the Cane Corso’s skull. It collapsed without another sound. That dog had bitten me on more than one occasion, always tearing a piece of flesh from my arm or leg. It always happened when I got too close to Cole, a low growl serving as its only warning. And every time, Maya would cover her mouth with her hand to hide a small smile, nestle into Cole’s arms, and then reward the beast with a piece of expensive jerky. It had gotten to the point where the dog would lunge for my throat on sight. If she wouldn’t discipline it, I would handle it for her. Maya cradled the dog’s lifeless head, her body shaking with sobs. Cole grabbed my wrist, his eyes blazing with a fury I hadn’t seen in years. His grip was crushing; I felt the delicate bones grind together. “She’s our daughter, Cassie! Why did you have to make such a scene?” he hissed. “She’s young, she makes mistakes! What is wrong with you, picking a fight with your own child?” When we brought Maya back from that forgotten corner of the city, she was so small and thin we thought she was thirteen, maybe fourteen. We showered her with affection. We only found out later that she was just two years younger than me, far from the innocent child we’d imagined. I extricated my wrist from his grip, my voice dangerously calm. “She’s young? You know better than anyone that isn’t true.” I leaned in closer. “To those who know, it looks like you’re raising a daughter. To everyone else, it looks like you’re keeping a mistress. What do you think, Cole?” His handsome features tightened into a knot, his eyes darkening to pools of ink. “Cassie, if it weren’t for me, you’d still be selling yourself on a street corner.” A familiar, cold spike of pain shot through my chest, but I forced a laugh. I met his gaze, my voice light and dismissive. “And Cole, if it weren’t for me, you’d still be a helpless wreck, unable to even control your own bladder.” 2 Cole’s pupils contracted. My words seemed to sober him up instantly. His gaze fell to the angry red marks on my wrist, and a flicker of regret crossed his face. When he spoke again, his voice was a raw, hoarse whisper. “Take the dog’s body outside. Feed it to the strays,” he commanded his men. “From now on, anything that upsets my wife is to be disposed of.” The harshness of his tone startled Maya. She flinched, pulling her hands back as my men unceremoniously dragged the massive corpse away. She fought to hold back her tears, and I saw Cole’s own eyes redden with sympathy for her. I was tired of watching them. I picked up my cane and turned to leave. This leg… this was from the ambush years ago. Cole had been cornered. I crashed the enemy’s compound, found him, and carried him on my back for seven days and seven nights while we fled. A bullet shattered my kneecap. I’d walked with a limp ever since. That night, after we’d finally made it to safety, he’d whispered in my ear, “Cassie, you’re the bravest woman I’ve ever known.” Usually, if I walked off like this, Cole would rush to my side, offering his arm for support. This time, he stayed right where he was, standing guard over Maya. By the time I reached the villa, a thin layer of sweat coated my skin. That evening, Maria, our housekeeper, stormed into my study, her face flushed with anger. “Ma’am, Mr. Harrison just signed over all your Bayview properties to Miss Maya.” She wrung her hands. “He knows your mother left those to you…” I said nothing. I was looking at my phone, at a video Maya had sent me. They were having dinner at the main Bayview villa. In the video, one of Cole’s business partners was suggesting a marriage alliance with Maya. Even as an adopted daughter, we treated her as our own and had already given her control of several business arms. And since I couldn’t have children, there would be no biological heir to challenge her inheritance. Maya refused the offer with a smile. “No, a matter like that can’t be taken lightly.” She looked at Cole, her eyes full of a disturbing adoration. The next moment, she leaned over and pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. “The only one I’m interested in is my father,” she announced to the table. “I’m officially going to start pursuing him.” Amid the ensuing laughter, Maya leaned in closer, aiming for Cole’s lips. I counted silently in my head. Three, two, one. He didn’t pull away. I closed the phone, fighting the bile rising in my throat. I turned to Maria. “Arrange a car for me to Bayview,” I said. “And a small team from the Ravens.” The weather outside was turning, a heavy gloom settling over the estate. My knee began to throb with a dull, familiar ache. I had my men position themselves out of sight, with orders to move only on my command. The dinner party was still in full swing when I arrived. Through a window, I watched as Maya carelessly popped a piece of piping hot baked cheese into her mouth. She yelped, tears instantly springing to her eyes. Without a word, Cole held his hand out in front of her, palm up. “Spit it out,” he said simply. Maya’s eyes went wide as she stared at him, stunned. Cole sighed, then used two fingers to pry open her mouth, retrieving the scalding food himself. I watched the entire exchange, and the block of ice in my chest grew heavier. There was probably only one woman in the world he would do that for, and it was Maya. I pushed the door open and stared them down, my face a cold mask. Cole’s face went pale. His voice was unsteady. “Cassie… what are you doing here? Didn’t I schedule a physical therapist to work on your leg tonight?” Maya, however, met my gaze without flinching, a defiant challenge in her eyes. It was the same look I used to have, back in the day. A predator’s glare. No wonder Cole was so fond of her. “You should have just given him to me a long time ago, Mom,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. Before the last word left her mouth, a flash of silver cut through the air. 3 A sharp, piercing pain erupted in my shoulder. The short blade was buried deep in my flesh. It was a beautiful, jade-handled dagger I had given her for her eighteenth birthday. Who knew I was raising a viper? Blood began to soak through the fabric of my blouse. Cole’s eyes widened in horror, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Cassie, why didn’t you move? Your leg is bad, but you could have dodged that. You know you could have!” he stammered. “Everyone in the organization knows the legend of ‘Nightshade.’ Maya was just sparring with you. How have you gotten so slow?” He was right. How had I gotten so slow? The year I turned twenty-five, I was pregnant with Cole’s child. I was nearly full-term when I was kidnapped. Cole nearly lost his mind. He threw away all caution, storming the enemy compound alone to rescue me. They’d captured me only to lure him in. They injected him with a cocktail of neurotoxins and threw us both in a damp basement to die. He was curled up behind a pile of crates, his eyes vacant, drool trickling from the corner of his mouth as he mumbled, “scared… so scared…” My heart seized in my chest; I could barely breathe. Ignoring the sharp, contracting pains in my abdomen, I gritted my teeth and knelt beside him, taking his trembling hand in mine. “Cole, we’re leaving.” I shielded my stomach with one arm and turned, letting my back take the brunt of the bullets as his captors found us. The searing pain dropped me to my knees. The last thing I remember was shoving him into a service elevator and hitting the button for the roof, where I knew our evac team was waiting. When I woke up, he had no memory of the event. He couldn’t even control his own body, no better than a broken invalid. And I… I was no longer pregnant. My body was weak from the blood loss and the miscarriage. But he remembered nothing, didn’t even know we had lost a child. There was a time we would have died for each other. I never imagined a love like that could be so fleeting. I suppressed my rage. “The Bayview properties are my line in the sand,” I said, my voice tight. “And Maya is old enough now. It’s not appropriate for her to live with us anymore. She has her own assets. It’s time to send her away.” He rubbed his temples, a look of weary frustration on his face. Ignoring my demands, he waved his hand. “Someone take my wife downstairs, have a doctor look at that wound, and then send her home to rest.” I frowned, staring at him as if he were a complete stranger. Cole, I don’t even recognize you anymore. The men who escorted me out had been bought by Maya. They had no intention of taking me home. They sealed my mouth with duct tape, bound my hands, and threw me into a small storage closet. Maya appeared in the doorway, a triumphant smile on her face as she looked down at me. “You once taught me, Mom, that the strong don’t rely on weapons. They rely on being ruthless and knowing the right moment to strike.” She pressed the jade-handled dagger to my neck. “How am I doing so far?” “You also taught me to go after what I want,” she purred. “So I slipped Dad a little something in his drink. You just stay in here and have a good listen.” The sharp edge of the blade broke my skin. The scent of my own blood seemed to excite her. My Ravens, my personal guards, were ready to move in, but I held them back with a look. Cole, I want to see just how far you’ve fallen. 4 A few minutes later, I heard the main door open. Cole strode in, looking confused when he saw Maya in his room. “Maya, what are you doing here? Go back to your own room.” Maya wrapped her arms around his neck. “Dad, I miss General so much. He always sleeps with me. Don’t make me leave tonight, please?” She kissed the hollow of his throat. “Dad, your skin is so hot.” Her hands slid under his shirt, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. Cole’s eyes clouded over with a haze of lust. His voice was like sandpaper, rough and strained. “Maya, what am I going to do with you? You shouldn’t be tempting me like this.” He lifted her chin, his mouth crashing down on hers. I listened to the sounds from the closet, and my heart turned to stone. I raised a hand to my cheek and felt the cold dampness of tears I hadn’t even realized I’d shed. Maya grew bolder, her hands fumbling with his belt. The moment the buckle sprang open, a deafening crack of thunder shook the villa. Cole froze. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving. “It’s storming,” he gasped. “Cassie’s terrified of storms. And you stabbed her today… I have to go check on her.” He bent down, scooping up his clothes and wrapping them around Maya. “You should get some sleep.” Then, without another glance, he turned and left. Maya’s hands clenched into fists, her knuckles white with fury. She wrenched open the closet door. “Happy now? He still cares about you.” I had already worked my hands free. I was calmly massaging the red welts the ropes had left on my wrists, a cold, mocking smile on my face. “Why would I be happy? Because I realized I picked a venomous snake for a daughter? Or because Cole didn’t go all the way with you? He had his pants off, Maya. Does the final step really matter at that point?” The scales of his heart had already tipped. They would never be balanced in my favor again. What I wanted was his unwavering choice, his absolute devotion, not the guilt and sense of responsibility he tossed my way after weighing his options. I stared at her, my eyes frigid. “Maya, do you remember what I told you when I first took you in? Betrayal has a price. And the price is death.” My men had already surrounded the entire estate. The main doors burst open with explosive force, and dozens of my Ravens, clad in black tactical gear, flooded the villa like a dark tide. They had Maya restrained in seconds. Her face was ashen, her eyes wide with disbelief. “How… how are you connected to the Ravens?” I ignored her, giving a single command to my captain. “Take the young lady back to the main house.” I had a score to settle with both of them. And I was going to do it together. We hadn’t even reached the house when I heard shouting from inside. It was Cole, roaring with a rage I had rarely witnessed. “Get out! Who the hell let you in here?” Then, a clear, lazily arrogant voice replied, “But Cassie promised she’d make me her boy-toy.”

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In my last life, I gave up everything to care for my brother. I never married. I never left. In this one, we were reborn together. The first thing he did was get rid of me. He traded me for the girl who was supposed to be the family’s changeling, the one whose fate was intertwined with his. He took me, still wrapped in a hospital blanket, and left me on the street. “Don’t blame me for this,” he whispered, his voice a strange mix of a child’s and an old man’s. “You’re the reason Sophie died.” 01 The year I was born, a relentless Southern drizzle seemed to hang over Virginia for weeks. Liam Donovan, the family’s firstborn son, took three days off from middle school. He raced back to our small hometown, his school uniform soaked from the journey. No one knew. No one could see that inside this quiet, serious boy, with his ramrod straight back and steady gaze, lived a soul carrying the weight of two lifetimes. He was freshly reborn, his heart overflowing with the bitter regrets of a life already lived. He didn’t spare a single glance for me, his newborn sister. Instead, he found a way to bribe a nurse on the maternity ward. He arranged it so the baby from the other life—the one mistakenly swapped at birth—was brought to our parents, presented as their rightful daughter. He was the one who carried me out of the hospital. He placed me in a flimsy cardboard box. Together, we took a long bus ride to the city’s frayed edges. And the other girl, the one wailing louder than I ever could from her swaddled blankets, would now carry the Donovan name. She would become the “little sister” everyone cherished, the one they would move heaven and earth for. The greatest regret of Liam Donovan’s previous life was the girl he’d lost—the brilliant flight surgeon he believed was his destiny. He’d spent decades mourning her, a ghost he could never let go of. And me? His actual sister? I was the one who found my way back to the family at eighteen. I was the one who never married, who taught myself rehabilitation medicine to pull him, paralyzed, from his wheelchair and give him back his life. But the only person he ever saw, the only one he ever yearned for, was the girl he thought I had forsaken. The fake one. The Donovans of Virginia, in that other life, were a legacy family. Military heroes, decorated by the state, their story splashed across three consecutive issues of the Armed Forces Journal. This time, Liam would rewrite it all. He would do it at any cost. Lying in the box, I quietly opened my eyes. Because he wasn’t the only one. I was reborn, too. 02 In our first life, Sophie and I were switched at birth. She became the Donovan heiress. I was sent home with a blue-collar family from the other side of town. When I was three, a car crash left me an orphan, and I was thrown into the foster system. I spent the next decade and a half living on eggshells, just trying to survive. Sophie, meanwhile, lived a life of pampered luxury. She became Sophie Donovan. She was the jewel of the family, the only sister her brother ever acknowledged. She went to the best schools, learned ballet and piano, and studied abroad. Everyone adored her. I was eighteen when they finally brought me home. That year, I walked through the grand gates of the Donovan estate in worn-out sneakers and a faded dress from a donation bin, carrying a battered suitcase. I saw my brother standing in the manicured garden. He was tall and proud in his Air Force dress blues, silhouetted against the afternoon sun. He frowned as I approached. “You’re Cora? You look… provincial.” My brother was one of the nation’s top pilot prospects. Sophie became a brilliant flight surgeon. In photographs, they stood shoulder to shoulder, their smiles radiant. A perfect pair. Until the year I visited them on base. An engine failed. The jet crashed on landing, and the wing pinned them both underneath. As the rescue team worked frantically, the lead medic turned to me, his face grim. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. We can only move on one of them right now. You have to make a choice.” I hesitated for only a second before I said, “Save my brother.” Everyone blamed me. They said I murdered Sophie. But I never regretted it. I started studying rehabilitation therapy, working day and night. I spent ten years of my life getting my brother out of that wheelchair, helping him reclaim his dignity. I never married, never had a life of my own. I took care of him until his dying day. As he lay fading, his pale hand rested on mine. His voice was a fragile whisper, but every word was a dagger to my heart. “Cora… I wish you’d saved Sophie.” I froze. It felt like the weight of the world had just crashed down on me. I finally understood. Even at the very end, he didn’t have a single word of thanks for me. 03 He walked a long way, the box held tightly in his arms. From the hospital, he took a bus that rattled through the old downtown district, all the way to the most neglected part of the city, the East End. Finally, he stopped at the mouth of a crumbling alley choked with weeds and knelt. He stared down at me, his face pale, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Cora,” he began, his small hands trembling. “Don’t blame me.” “Sophie’s death… it was too horrible. In the last life, she died because of you… I don’t blame you, not really, but she… she deserved a life of sunshine, a life without a single worry.” He placed me in the shadows of the alley entrance. He gently tucked the blanket around me. “Someone will find you here. You can just be… a normal person this time.” He stood up. His eyes were red, but he stubbornly turned his face away. “Cora, I’m just begging you. This time, stay away.” He left. He never looked back. My reborn consciousness was already wide awake. But I was a baby. I had no voice to protest. I lay in the shadows. I watched his small figure disappear, and all I felt was a profound, chilling cold. 04 A heavy downpour began to fall. I opened my eyes again. The sky was the color of a dirty dishrag. The wind tore through the alley, making the leaves on the overgrown bushes rustle violently. He was long gone. I was barely a day old, my body impossibly weak. I didn’t even have the strength to cry. Only a faint, choked whimper escaped my throat. The rain soaked through my blanket. A fever began to burn through me, my vision swimming with white spots. In the distance, I could hear the snarling of stray dogs. It sounded like claws tearing at my heart. I couldn’t move. I could only stare up at this strange, hostile sky. I thought of my past life. I had devoted my entire existence to medicine. I spent forty years caring for my brother, only to be told, “I wish you had saved her instead.” This time around. The very first thing he did upon his rebirth… was cast me out. I closed my eyes, the smell of wet earth and rain filling my senses. My consciousness started to fray, to dissolve. Until a gentle woman’s voice cut through the noise. “What was that sound? Is it a kitten?” Another voice, a man’s, followed, laced with a hint of teasing affection. “Well, we can take it home. You’ve always wanted a kitten.” 05 A faint light pierced the darkness. It was the hazy glow of a streetlight in the rain, the bleed of distant headlights. It was also the first glimmer of hope my fading mind could grasp. I saw an umbrella. It opened against the storm, and beneath it was the face of a beautiful, elegant woman. Rain had plastered strands of her dark hair to her cheeks. The moment she saw me, her soft expression sharpened with urgency. “Robert, get the car! We need to get to a hospital. It’s a baby!” Her voice trembled, the words tumbling out in a rush. She was clearly terrified. A second later, she was lifting me gently from the box. My blanket was soaked, so she shrugged off her own coat and wrapped me in it, pulling me tightly against her chest. She smelled wonderful. Like old books and lavender, a scent so warm it made you want to cry. I nestled against her. A hot, wheezing breath escaped my lips. My mind was drifting. She held me close, cursing under her breath. “God, I can’t believe this. We come down here for one conference and run into a nightmare.” “She’s burning up,” the man’s voice said from the side, a new roughness in it. “Her lips are blue.” “I’ll get the car. We can’t wait.” The woman murmured softly to me, “It’s okay, little one. It’s okay. We’re going to get you to a doctor.” 06 The fever broke that night. I was lying in a crisp, white hospital bed. When I opened my eyes, a woman named Helena Shaw was dozing in a chair beside me, her fingers still resting lightly on my hand. I twitched my fingers, and she woke with a start. She stared for a moment, and then her eyes welled with tears. “You’re awake? Oh, thank God. You’re a little fighter, aren’t you?” Later, after the doctor confirmed my temperature was stable and my vitals were normal, I heard them talking quietly by the window. “We’re taking her with us,” Helena said, her tone absolute. “I’ve seen the group homes around here. They’re not always… gentle. She’s too small, Robert. We can’t just leave her to the system.” Robert Adler sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But our schedules, Helena…” “We can manage. Raising a child won’t stop us from anything.” He was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. We’ll start the paperwork when we get back home.” That day, a black sedan with D.C. plates drove out of that forgotten southern alley and headed north, all the way to the capital. I was officially adopted and given a new name: Cora Shaw. “Shaw” was for my new family. “Cora” was for my mother’s grandmother. “It means ‘maiden,’” she told me, stroking my hair. “Strong and good. A new life.” From that day forward, I had a new beginning. My father, Robert Adler, was a high-ranking official in the State Department. He came from a family of academics and diplomats, a respected figure in Washington D.C. My mother, Helena Shaw, was one of the youngest lead researchers at the National Science Foundation. A genius in her field, yet gentle by nature. She loved cats and flowers and knew how to fix anything that was broken. They were newlyweds. After adopting me, they decided not to have biological children of their own. “A child is a gift from the universe,” my mother used to say. “Our job is to give her the life she was denied.” They never let me want for anything. From formula and first words to fevers and losing my baby teeth. From my first A+ on a paper to the day I graduated from the academy. They were there, every single step of the way. And I, in turn, made them my entire world. 07 More than a decade flew by in the blink of an eye. I grew from an abandoned infant into a young woman, calm and composed, with clear eyes. It was as if the past had been a long, terrible dream, and upon waking, I found the world had completely changed. In 2018, on the day I graduated from the Air Force Academy, I wrote a single sentence on my assignment request form: “Request for assignment as Public Affairs Officer, 1st Air Command Squadron, Langley AFB, Virginia.” Everyone was shocked. My father called me, certain I’d made a mistake. “Cora, honey, you’ve always been so level-headed, top of your class. You could get a cushy D.C. post anywhere. Why are you shipping yourself off to the middle of nowhere?” I smiled into the phone. “Dad, it’s just something I have to do. A promise I made to myself.” No one knew. That southern base… it was where my destiny had shattered in my last life. It was the beginning of my end. Jake Callahan, a guy I’d grown up with in the D.C. military housing community, had just passed his flight exams. His target was also the 1st Squadron. When he heard about my assignment, he chased me down, grinning. “Cora, don’t tell me you’re following me down there.” I gave him a cool look. “You wish, Callahan.” He just laughed, that easy, carefree laugh of his, and stuck to me like glue for the rest of the summer. The day of the base’s annual combat readiness competition, he dragged me along. “No way, you have to come watch. Be my good luck charm.” I didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t say no to him. So there I was, standing by the viewing platform under the blistering sun. The air was filled with the sharp commands of drill instructors, applause, and the roar of engines overhead. I took a sip of water, and just as I lowered the bottle, my eyes locked onto two familiar figures in the crowd. Liam Donovan. And Sophie Donovan. My brother. And beside him, dressed in a flight surgeon’s uniform, smiling that serene, gentle smile… The changeling. My fingers tightened around the bottle, my palm suddenly cold and slick. This reunion, this collision of fates… It had come much sooner than I expected.

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The night before our engagement party, I found a crumpled business card in Aiden’s suit pocket. It was from some downtown lounge. The woman smiling sweetly from the card… was none other than his first love. The girl he always said he regretted losing. When I placed the card on the table in front of him, he casually tossed a receipt into the trash, barely glancing at it. “It was after a team dinner last night. My colleagues dragged me there. I stayed for ten minutes, tops.” When I didn’t say anything, he reached out and pulled me into his arms, his tone softening just a fraction. “You’ve always wanted to get married, haven’t you? Just be a good girl, and I’ll give you that next year.” I had to laugh. Aiden. As the heiress to the Hawthorne Corporation, I have a line of suitors stretching from Paris to the Upper East Side. I don’t need you. 1 He saw me standing there, silent. A smirk pulled at his lips, a cold glint in his eyes. He reached up and patted my cheek. “Struck dumb? Huh?” I brushed his hand away. A few seconds passed before I spoke. “I sent the engagement photos to my family group chat. They…” They weren’t exactly thrilled. “So you sent them.” Aiden cut me off without even looking up. He was always like this. Anything that mattered to me, anything about my family—he never bothered to listen to the whole story. He grabbed his car keys and headed for the door, completely ignoring the remedy I’d brewed for his hangover sitting on the coffee table. “Have to deal with something at the office.” “Oh,” I said. I didn’t chase after him, asking when he’d be back, not like I usually did. He paused at the door, slipping on his shoes, and glanced back at me over his shoulder. I was wiping my cheek where he’d touched it, scrubbing with a wet wipe until my skin was raw and red. The door slammed shut with a deafening crack, the force of it knocking our framed photo on the wall askew. A dull ache settled in my chest, but strangely, not a single tear fell. The sky had just turned a deep, bruised purple. I looked in the mirror, at the faint shimmer left over from my makeup trial and the cocktail dress he’d dismissed with a lazy “it’s fine.” Why should I let this night go to waste? I shot a text to my best friend, Maya, asking if she was up for our favorite rooftop bar. I was barely halfway through a glass of whiskey when she leaned in close. “Did you hear? Kate got back yesterday!” I’d seen that name so many times. Kate. Aiden’s first love, a secret he’d guarded for seven years. The person he would sneak off to see, even if it meant lying to me. So many of our fights, so many shattered dishes, had been because of her. She didn’t even have to be in the room. The mere mention of “first love” was enough to burn me. Aiden claimed matching tattoos were tacky. But the elegant Arabic script on the back of his neck was Kate’s birthday. Aiden scoffed at celebrating New Year’s Eve, calling it pointless. But the combination to his safe was the date Kate moved abroad. Every single upscale Italian restaurant he took me to? They were the same ones he used to take Kate to. He’d praise my cooking, telling me the soup was perfectly seasoned. Then I’d overhear him telling his friends, “It’s not as good as the one Kate’s housekeeper used to make.” He hated when I was “nosy” or “overbearing.” But tucked away in a hidden flap of his wallet was a faded photograph—of him, drenched in rain, holding an umbrella over Kate, expecting nothing in return. I pieced together their past from the details he tried so desperately to hide. I’d drive myself crazy wondering if I wasn’t pretty enough, if my family wasn’t powerful enough. Wondering why he treated me with such casual disregard. Across the table, Maya chewed on her straw, her eyes fixed on me. “The same night you found that card, someone saw him picking her up from the airport. They sat in his car for over forty minutes.” “My Josh was trying to keep it from me… he was afraid you’d have a meltdown before the wedding…” Maya’s fiancé, Josh, was Aiden’s best friend. They’d known each other since they were in diapers. “Annie, are you really going through with this? Is he worth it?” “I told you from the start he had someone else on his mind! You’re a Hawthorne, for God’s sake! What have you ever lacked in your life that you have to take this crap from him?” I tilted my head back and swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, the fiery liquid searing my throat. “Why else? I just hate to lose.” But this time, I had to admit defeat. I was learning that truly letting go doesn’t require a dramatic, soul-tearing scene. 2 Later that night, Josh came to pick up a very drunk Maya. “Babe, are you sure you’re okay? I can call your driver…” I just waved her off, a wave of nausea churning in my stomach. I used to watch them, so sickeningly sweet together, and then look at Aiden and me. We were like a business merger. Why? It was simple. He just didn’t care that much. Aiden himself had told me he hated how I always tried to manage things, that he found me clingy. And yet, he still set a date for our engagement. And like a fool, I thought that meant I was special. Turns out, he was just shopping for a trophy wife. I don’t know how long I’d been crouched there when a familiar, grating voice cut through the haze. I squinted, looking towards the neon glow of the bar’s sign. Aiden had his arm around a woman in a slinky slip dress and a thin cardigan, his touch impossibly gentle. “Kate, wait here, okay? I’ll get the car.” I stayed hidden by the manicured shrubs, my body curled into a tight ball. I watched him help her onto a bench, watched him pull out his phone to make a call. A second later, my own phone buzzed to life. His head snapped in my direction, his eyes unreadable in the dark. He waited, a full minute ticking by. I didn’t stumble towards him and throw my arms around him like I usually did when I was drunk. It was he who broke the silence, his brow furrowed in irritation. “Annelise!” He strode over, looming above me. I could see the tight line of his jaw, as if someone had deeply pissed him off. “Don’t you have anything to say?” I paused, then shook my head. “Get up.” He grabbed my arm, his face a frozen mask, and began pulling me toward his car. He didn’t ask a single question. Not why I was here, slumped on the pavement, drowning myself in alcohol. And I didn’t ask who the woman by his side was. The silence in the car was suffocating, a heavy weight on my chest. From the rearview mirror, Kate glanced at me. Her cheeks were flushed in a perfectly demure, picturesque state of drunkenness. “Aiden, I think I’m going to be sick,” she murmured. He cracked the sunroof, his voice softer and more tender than I had ever heard it. “You can’t hold your liquor, but you still act tough.” Kate let out a soft, breathy laugh, her words laced with flirtation. “But I was so happy today. What’s wrong with a few extra drinks?” “So many years, and you still love to boss me around.” They had been high school sweethearts. A seven-year history separated by graduation and distance. The first time the sight of her name felt like a physical sting was when I found her old selfies still saved in Aiden’s phone. “Just a cache-clearing error,” he’d said. I’d wanted to believe him. Everyone has a past, right? How could a seven-year-old high school romance still have a hold on the man who was about to become my fiancé? Back then, I was still confident. I was sure I was better than her. But the moment I started comparing myself to her, I had already lost. They chatted endlessly about the old days, their voices a low murmur in the front seat, while I sat in the back, completely invisible. Wind whipped through the car, blurring the familiar city lights as they rushed by. We passed the French bistro where we’d had our first date. The lights were still on. I remember my card being declined when the bill came. I was fumbling through my purse, flustered, when he gently pressed my hand down and paid. He must have thought I was shy, because he secretly laced his fingers through mine and held my hand the entire way home. My heart had hammered against my ribs. I thought, this is him. This is the one. My dizzy mind kept drifting back to the time before our engagement. When I was most in love with Aiden, I used to fantasize about what it would have been like if I’d met him years earlier. Later, when he was at his coldest, I’d find myself wishing we had never met at all. And now? Now, I felt nothing. When I blinked my eyes open, the car was parked in front of the villa. Kate was gone. Aiden’s arm was draped over the steering wheel, the cherry of his cigarette glowing in the darkness. “Annelise,” he said, his voice low. “Are you done with your little tantrum?” I sat up, confused. “I was with you picking out rings just this afternoon. Who was tonight’s performance for?” His voice was tight with suppressed anger. I had no idea what he was so mad about. The only thing I could think of was that I had interrupted his reunion with his long-lost love. “I didn’t ask you to come and get me.” He let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Oh? Then who were you putting on that pathetic, drunken show for?” “I wasn’t drunk.” My voice was quiet. “And even if you hadn’t shown up, there are plenty of people who would have been thrilled to take me home.” 3 Aiden’s eyes narrowed, his words dripping with venom. “Who? Some rich idiot you picked up at the bar?” He scanned me from head to toe, his gaze making me feel like garbage. “Annelise, use your head for once. Dressed like that, out on your own… what do you think a guy like that wants from you?” “If I hadn’t shown up, you’d have been somebody’s easy prey by now.” “If you want my attention, can’t you at least try a method with a little more class?” There was a time I’d drunk myself into the hospital, just hoping he’d show up and yell at me. Now I understood. That was just me, indulging in my own pathetic fantasy. “Aiden, you’re being overly dramatic.” He didn’t believe a word of it, his expression dark and stormy. “There’s nothing I hate more than a woman who causes a scene when she’s drunk. I don’t have time to clean up your messes.” Maybe it was the alcohol numbing my nerves, or maybe I truly didn’t care anymore. “Try this stunt again, and even if you have Josh call me, I’ll block you instantly.” “Fine.” I turned and walked away, my heels clicking on the pavement as I headed for the elevator alone. The next day, I woke up around noon with a splitting hangover. My phone was flooded with unread messages. But not a single one from Aiden. He was never one for texting, but I always found myself instinctively checking for his name first. Eventually, I just set his notifications to silent. To stop myself from being an idiot. Maya sent me a screenshot. It was a post from Kate, uploaded in the dead of night. A blurry photo of the city skyline. No caption. But there, among the likes, was Aiden—who never liked anything—with an instant reaction. And a comment: It gets cold at night. Dress warm. Suddenly, my doorbell began to ring, loud and insistent. I opened it to find Aiden standing there. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. “What are you doing here?” My surprise must have been too obvious. Aiden’s lips twitched into a semblance of a smile as he poked my shoulder with his finger. “Here. Brought you something.” I stared at the bag in his hand—hangover medication—and said nothing. This was his pattern. A slap, followed by a piece of candy. But I was too tired to analyze it anymore. I took the bag and said, “Thanks.” “That’s it?” Aiden leaned against the doorframe, the faint warmth in his eyes vanishing in an instant. “Is there something else?” I asked. As if hell had frozen over, he actually offered an explanation. “I picked her up yesterday because I’m the only person she really knows here.” He stared at my face, his gaze so intense it felt like he was trying to bore a hole through me. “Annie, Kate and I are ancient history. We’re just old classmates now, that’s all.” “Don’t go looking for trouble where there isn’t any.” “I booked a table at that French place. I’ll make it up to you.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to. It’s over.” “Besides, I already have plans today.” Aiden was visibly stunned. He probably never imagined I would refuse him. His face instantly turned to ice. “Suit yourself.” But what were the chances? The French restaurant he had booked was the same one where I had plans. Beside him, Kate batted her eyelashes, her voice cloying and sweet. “Aiden, why is your fiancée having dinner with another man?” My eyes met Aiden’s for a fleeting second before I looked away. He glanced at the man in the bespoke suit sitting across from me, his expression a perfect mask of indifference. “What’s it to me?” Kate giggled, her tone laced with meaning. “Not jealous at all?” “I remember back in school, you cornered a guy in the bathroom just for picking up my pencil.” “I used to say you were the reincarnation of the green-eyed monster. You even threw my notebook, remember?” You only get jealous when you care. Aiden could probably watch me sleep with another man and not even blink. His ocean had never stirred with a single wave for me. Then, at four in the morning, a notification popped up from our perpetually silent chat. [?] [Is that guy really your new flame?] [Did you seriously pick him up in a bar?] [Annie, you’ve grown bold.]

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1 It was three in the morning. I sat on the sofa, listening to the sound of a key turning in the lock. Marcus pushed the door open, a rare smile on his face as he carefully placed a pink hair tie on the entryway table. When he saw me, his brow furrowed instinctively before smoothing out again. “Why are you still up? I told you not to wait for me when I’m working late.” His voice faltered when he saw my lit-up phone screen. It was a social media post from ten minutes ago. The author was his student, Nina. “Let’s get a divorce.” I never thought I would say those words to my husband on my 35th birthday. He stopped in his tracks, then sank onto the sofa, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Is this because I introduced her to my friends and I never introduced you?” “You could say that,” I replied coldly. A smirk played on his lips. “Fine by me. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Life won’t be easy for you and the baby in your belly once you’re on your own.” I let out a cold laugh. If I didn’t even want him, what made him think I’d keep his child? … As I slid the divorce papers across the table, he chuckled. “You’re serious about this? Over something so small?” I nodded. “Yes. Over this one small thing.” Marcus raised an eyebrow, his expression one of utter indifference. “Nicole, stop the act. You’ve been stuck to me like glue since you were in diapers. You really think you can live without me?” He leaned back, his voice dripping with condescension. “I get that you’re trying to get my attention, but don’t overdo it. Threatening divorce every day is a bad habit.” “I’m not kidding, Marcus. I’m serious.” His face darkened. “Fine. Have it your way. Just don’t come crying back to me later.” With that, he snatched a pen and signed his name with a flourish. Before I could say another word, his phone rang with the custom ringtone he’d set exclusively for Nina. Her sweet, gentle voice came through the speaker. “Professor Kane, our little kitten ran away. I’ve been looking for him everywhere. What if a big dog got him? I’m so scared.” “It’s okay, Nina. Don’t be afraid. Stay right where you are, and don’t wander off. I’m on my way to help you find him.” The man who was always so decisive and commanding was now speaking with a gentleness I had never heard. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door. There was a time when he would at least glance my way, gauging my reaction. But my constant compromises had emboldened him. Now, he felt entitled to leave me for her without a second thought. I sat on the sofa and watched him go, not saying a word. Now that I had chosen to let go, I wouldn’t cling to him anymore. I began to pack. The few things Marcus had ever given me, I left behind. The many things I had given him, I listed on eBay. Around noon, Marcus returned with Nina and her cat. Years ago, before we were married, Marcus had forced me to give my own cat away, claiming it was dirty. Now, he was cradling the cat he and Nina had adopted together, unable to put it down. “Why haven’t you cooked?” he demanded, seeing me eating takeout by myself. “I’m your ex-wife now. Am I supposed to cook for you and your new girlfriend?” Marcus’s temper flared, but Nina gently tugged on his sleeve, and he visibly reined it in. “Nicole, please don’t misunderstand the professor and me,” she said, her voice soft. “It’s my first time in this city for college, and I often don’t know who to turn to for help. He’s just a very kind person.” She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “I really don’t want to cause any trouble between you two. He cares about you a lot.” I put down my fork and gave her a cold smile. “You don’t want to cause trouble, so you have your professor use his family privileges to get you a special apartment. You don’t want to cause trouble, so you have him abandon his wife to drive you to and from school every day. You don’t want to cause trouble, so you drank from the same glass with him at the freshman welcome party in front of everyone?” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “Nina, as Mrs. Kane, I should really thank you for being so very, very thoughtful.” My words made her burst into tears. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Marcus immediately pulled her behind him, shielding her. “Nicole, stop looking at everyone with those bitter, accusatory eyes,” he spat. “You have a dirty mind, so you see dirt everywhere.” He turned his back on me and started cooing at the sobbing Nina, not sparing me another glance. This drama had been on repeat ever since she appeared. I was just so tired of it. I grabbed my bag and walked out. I had an appointment at the hospital. 2 The moment I arrived at the clinic, my mother-in-law called. It was always like this. Whenever we fought, Marcus couldn’t be bothered to deal with me, so he’d pass me off to his mother. “Nicole, fighting with Marcus again? Honey, let me give you some advice. A woman shouldn’t be so dramatic. Men like a gentle touch.” Her words were casual, dismissive. It was clear she didn’t take me seriously. In her eyes, I was pregnant with Marcus’s child; no other man would want me if we divorced. She already knew about Marcus and Nina. In fact, Nina’s name for her had progressed from Mrs. Kane, to godmother, and now, she just called her “Mom.” And my mother-in-law was perfectly fine with it. In her mind, the fact that her son could keep two women happy was a sign of his charm and ability. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said calmly. “If he and Nina are truly in love, then I’ll step aside.” She wasn’t the least bit flustered that I knew. She was confident I was just throwing another tantrum for attention. “Nicole, dear, men have to play the part sometimes when they’re out in the world. As his wife, you should be more understanding, not add to his stress over trivial things. You’re the lady of this house. No one can take your place. Besides, you’re carrying his child. Who would want you if you left him now?” Her tone was thick with contempt. “Mrs. Kane,” I replied coldly, “this isn’t the 19th century. Are you still thinking in terms of first wives and second wives?” I hung up and was about to walk into the pre-arranged abortion clinic when I saw my mother helping my college-aged sister, Sophie, who was waiting in the same line. I rushed over. The moment they saw me, they both started to cry. “Nicole, I know things are hard for you with your in-laws, and I didn’t want to bother you, but I just don’t know what else to do,” my mother sobbed. “Mom, calm down. Tell me what happened.” “Your sister… her boss assaulted her on a business trip. Now he’s denying it, saying she was willing. She’s pregnant, and he won’t even admit it’s his, claiming she slept around. Nicole, Marcus is a brilliant lawyer. Can you please ask him to represent her?” The news hit me so hard I couldn’t speak. My mother, thinking I was hesitant, quickly backtracked. “I’m sorry, Nicole. I know Marcus is a man of principle. I shouldn’t have asked. We’ll find another way.” “No, Mom, don’t say that. I understand. I’ll figure something out.” Twenty minutes later, I was at the private law firm Marcus ran off-campus. The waiting room was packed, as usual. Marcus was a top attorney. I took a number and sat down like everyone else. It was his rule. Even as his wife, I had to follow procedure during work hours. No special treatment. As I was calculating how long the wait would be, a familiar, slender figure pushed through the crowd and walked straight to the door of Marcus’s office. “Professor Kane,” Nina called softly, knocking gently. “I have something urgent I need to ask you about. Could I possibly…?” Marcus immediately stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. He turned to the crowded waiting room and said flatly, “One moment. I have an emergency to handle.” Murmurs of complaint rippled through the room. “What the hell? She just cut the line.” “I thought the great Marcus Kane was all about principles.” “Yeah, everyone here has an emergency. That’s why we’re here!” Marcus ignored them, his face impassive as he closed the door, shutting out all the resentful stares. Even though I knew about his favoritism, seeing it in person made my heart sink. A place that was off-limits to me, his own wife, was a place a young student could enter at will. So, the rules could be broken. I just wasn’t the one worthy of breaking them for. The minutes ticked by. The door remained shut. The complaints grew louder. An hour later, the door finally opened. Nina emerged, her earlier anxiety gone, replaced by a rosy-cheeked, joyful expression. When she saw me sitting in the waiting area, a smug look flashed across her face. Marcus saw me then, too. Surprise flickered in his eyes for a second before he composed himself. “Next,” he called out, his voice all business as he shut the door again. I waited until the firm closed for the day, but my number was never called. As Marcus was leaving, I ran after him. 3 Marcus, walking side-by-side with Nina, looked annoyed to see me. “What are you doing here? Regret it already? Trying to win me back?” I grabbed his arm. “Marcus, my sister was assaulted by her boss. She needs a lawyer. Can you please help? Can you represent her?” He didn’t even hesitate. “I can’t. I have too many cases. I have to be responsible for all my clients.” “Marcus, she’s my sister! Can’t you bend the rules just this once, for me?” My hysteria didn’t faze him in the slightest. “Nicole, how many times have I told you? The most important thing for a lawyer is to respect the rules. No matter how urgent, you have to follow procedure. Come back tomorrow, get a number early, and when it’s your turn, I’ll see you.” He turned to leave with Nina. In my desperation, I dropped to my knees. Ignoring the scornful looks from Nina and the remaining staff, I begged him. “Marcus, please. She’s my only sister. She’s severely depressed. If she loses this case, I don’t know what will happen.” He leaned down, a cold smirk on his face. “Weren’t you so high and mighty this morning, talking about how you didn’t want to be Mrs. Kane anymore? Why are you asking for special treatment now?” His voice dropped to a cruel whisper. “You’re not just using your sister’s situation to manipulate me, are you?” My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Marcus, this is the last time I will ever ask you for anything.” Seeing the desperation in my eyes, his expression softened for a fraction of a second. But then Nina wrapped her arms around his and pouted. “Professor, if you take my case and her sister’s case at the same time, won’t you be too tired? It would break my heart. Maybe… maybe I should find another lawyer for my case.” That was all it took. Marcus straightened up, his voice turning to steel. “If you can’t get an appointment, find another firm.” Watching him walk away, my last shred of hope for him died. I stumbled out of the firm and called my mother, telling her I would find another lawyer. She wasn’t surprised. Instead, she asked, “I heard you and Marcus are getting a divorce. You’ve loved him your whole life, Nicole. Can you really let him go?” Could I? That night, I lay in bed, her question echoing in my mind. Could I really let him go? I’d known Marcus since we were five. Girls were always chasing after him, but he was picky. None of them ever caught his eye. I was the only girl he ever kept by his side. Back then, I thought I was special to him. When I forgot my homework, he’d toss his at me and say gruffly, “Hurry up and copy. I’m not waiting for you if you get detention.” After his basketball games, he’d only ever take the water bottle I offered him. When another boy tried to ask me out, he’d walk right up to him and say, “Get lost. She’s my sidekick.” Our marriage was the result of an accident. 4 When Marcus was thirty-three, he was in a serious car crash. The doctors said he would likely never walk again. His mother, terrified that no woman would marry him now, saw her chance. I had foolishly waited for him, still single at thirty. And so, I became the most “suitable” choice. After the wedding, I cared for him tirelessly, and miraculously, he made a full recovery. At first, both he and his mother were grateful. He told me, “I’ll be good to you for the rest of my life.” And he was. He fulfilled his duties as a husband. If I asked him to pick up a cake on his way home, he would, but it was never the flavor I wanted. If I asked for a ride to work on a rainy day, he’d give me one, but he’d always drop me off a block away, leaving me to run through the downpour without an umbrella. Even our intimacy, which happened maybe twice a year, felt like a chore he was dutifully checking off a list. When I complained to my friends, they told me that’s just how long-term couples are, that I was being overly sensitive. I believed them, until Nina appeared. Only then did I see what Marcus was like when he was truly in love. He would carry a girl on his back across campus just so she wouldn’t get her shoes wet in the rain. He would research the trendiest internet cafes just because she called him old-fashioned. And on countless nights, I saw him alone, staring at her picture. “Suitable.” That’s the word he used to describe me, time and time again after we were married. He never once said he loved me. I had drafted the divorce papers over and over, but I could never bring myself to give them to him. Not until I saw that photo on his social media: him, Nina, and all his best friends, smiling together. That’s when I finally understood. To him, I was a dirty secret. In the twenty-three years he’d known me, he had never once thought I was worthy of being introduced to his friends. But he’d known Nina for a month, and he had already shown her off to everyone in his life. If I was so insignificant to him, how could I ever expect him to fight for my family? After a long, sleepless night, I went to the clinic first thing in the morning and had the abortion. Then I accepted a work assignment that would take me abroad. As soon as the court case was over, I would take my mother and leave this city for good. But then, more bad news. Every lawyer I contacted refused to take my sister’s case. Worse, an unedited, graphic video of Sophie’s assault began to circulate online. Vicious online trolls analyzed it frame by frame, branding my sister a slut who had tried to sleep her way to a promotion and was now crying foul. Then, a picture of my divorce certificate was leaked. The public narrative shifted. I was the crazy ex-wife, harassing my former husband and his new love. Nina, meanwhile, started live-streaming, playing the victim. She gained a massive following and made a fortune from their sympathy. My sister and I were labeled the “homewrecker sisters.” Sophie’s mental state deteriorated rapidly. My mother had to watch her twenty-four hours a day to keep her from harming herself. But Nina wasn’t finished. She came to our door to gloat. “Nicole, oh, I’m sorry, I should say ex-wife. Have you learned your lesson? This is what happens when you try to take my man.” She looked my sister up and down with disgust. “A used-up piece of trash like her… how can she still stand to be alive?” Sophie, already on the brink, let out a piercing scream. The barely-healed scars on her wrists split open again. Her eyes, swollen from constant crying, were now empty of tears, filled only with despair. My mother struggled to restrain her. Shaking with rage, I grabbed a kitchen knife and lunged at Nina. At the last second, a strong hand caught my wrist. Nina shrieked and threw herself into the arms of Marcus, who had just arrived. Her arrogant demeanor vanished, replaced by hiccupping sobs. “Professor, I just came to comfort Nicole, and… and she tried to kill me! I’m so scared!” Marcus threw the knife to the floor and wrapped his arms around her, his eyes flashing with fury as he looked at me. “Nicole, I’m warning you. If you ever harm a single hair on Nina’s head, I will make you disappear without a trace.” I knew he meant it. I knew, as a lawyer, he had the power to do it. But he forgot one thing. I had already been pushed to the edge. Death was no threat to me. I stormed into the bathroom, grabbed a basin of dirty water, and threw it on the two of them. “And I’m warning you, Marcus,” I snarled. “If you two ever show your faces here again, I swear to God, I’ll take you both down with me.” After they left, I managed to find a young, unknown lawyer who was desperate to make a name for himself. He agreed to take the case. On the day of the trial, I arrived early. And I saw Nina and her brother sitting with the opposing counsel. The man who had assaulted my sister was Nina’s brother. A moment later, Marcus walked in and took his place beside Nina, not as a spectator, but as the lead defense attorney for her brother. He was standing against me. At the same time, my phone rang. It was my mother. Sophie was on the roof of the courthouse. Seeing the panic on my face, Nina smiled and sent me a video. In it, her brother was assaulting my sister a second time.

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It took me ten years to single-handedly transform a broke, struggling actor into the new golden boy of Hollywood. Everyone assumed I was on the verge of becoming the glamorous wife of an A-list star. What they didn’t know was that just as I finished paving his path to the stars, he was already taking someone else’s hand. At his birthday dinner, in front of everyone, I broke up with him. He thought I was just throwing a tantrum. But he had no idea. I didn’t just want to break up with him. I wanted to ruin him. Jeffrey Cabrera, if I could build you a throne, I can certainly bring you crashing down from Olympus. Your reign as Hollywood’s king is over. 1 “Let’s break up.” Across the candlelit table, I looked at the handsome man opposite me and spoke with a calm I didn’t feel. Jeffrey froze, then a weary, almost patronizing smile touched his lips. “What is it now, Kathryn?” “Is it because I didn’t wear the dress you picked out for me?” He sighed, his voice laced with the exhaustion of someone trying to placate a difficult child. “Kathryn, don’t do this. I’m exhausted from the shoot.” “I’m not doing anything.” I bit the inside of my cheek, a sharp little sting of pain. He saw me wince and trailed off. Leaning back in his chair, he grabbed a napkin and took a deep breath. “Didn’t you bring this up just two weeks ago?” he said, his voice turning cold. “I haven’t cheated on you. I haven’t been ignoring you. What, exactly, have I done wrong?” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Fine. Just don’t come crying back to me.” “I’m done.” I had no energy left for this pointless dance. I stood, the legs of my chair screeching against the polished floor. As I turned, I spotted a furtive figure lurking nearby. It was Sarah—Jeffrey’s new assistant, a girl we knew from our old acting school. She glanced at me, gave a bland, barely-there nod as if I were a stranger, then immediately turned to Jeffrey, her expression melting into a mask of fragile distress. “Jeffrey,” she began, her voice a delicate whisper, “Catherine sent another script, and I just don’t know what to do. Could you possibly take a look for me…?” But Jeffrey’s eyes were locked on me, blazing past her. The old me would have erupted. What script was so damn important it couldn’t wait for us to finish one dinner? But I was just so tired. I started to walk away, but Sarah’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. “Oh, Kathryn, don’t go!” she cried, as if just realizing her timing was terrible. “I didn’t mean to interrupt! I’m just so new to all this, I’m always asking Jeffrey for help. Please don’t be mad at him because of me, he’s had such a long day on set…” That was it. I snapped. I ripped my arm from her grasp. “Are you new to being an assistant, or new to being a person? I booked this dinner three days ago. You’re telling me you didn’t know?” “You’re so new to the job that when you felt sick at one in the morning, you didn’t call 911, you called him?” “You’re so new that you don’t understand you have no place in his private life?” “Sarah,” I spat, my voice low and shaking, “are you pathologically helpless, bored out of your mind, or are you just shamelessly using the fact that we went to the same school to be this goddamn pathetic?” Sarah stood there, mouth agape, her eyes instantly welling up with tears that shimmered in the dim light. She cast a wounded look at Jeffrey and lowered her head. “Kathryn, that’s enough!” Jeffrey strode over, pulling Sarah behind him as if shielding her from an attack. He glared at me, his brow furrowed. “You went too far. She’ll know for next time, won’t she?” Next time? There would be no next time. Sarah’s tears began to fall, silent but for the choked little sobs that were somehow louder than a scream. A born actress. A laugh escaped my lips. Such a classic damsel-in-distress act, and Jeffrey, the award-winning actor, couldn’t see through it. Or maybe… maybe he just didn’t want to. I shook my head and walked out the door. 2 When I slapped my resignation letter on Catherine’s desk, she blinked in surprise. Catherine was the agency’s star-maker, our boss. “Setting aside your relationship with Jeffrey for a moment, I genuinely admire your talent,” she said, her pen hovering over the paper. “You know you have offers from other agencies, right? If this is just about him, I can move you to another client’s team.” A flicker of something warm stirred in my chest. All these years, my passion hadn’t just been love; it had become a profession others respected. “I’m not signing this yet,” Catherine said, noticing my hesitation. “Take a month off. Paid. Come back and give me your answer then.” I went home and collapsed into bed, sleeping until the following evening. When I woke, I mindlessly scrolled through Instagram. The first post was from Sarah. “First time at a big gala and I had no idea what to wear! So lucky to have you pick everything out for me. The view from up here is dazzling. I hope I can keep up with you.” The photo was a solo shot of her in a stunning gown. But in the background, artfully blurred, stood a familiar, impeccably dressed figure. The black tuxedo I had personally tailored for Jeffrey yesterday was now serving as the backdrop for her moment in the spotlight. My phone buzzed. A message from Jeffrey. “I wore it. Happy now?” Attached was a selfie of him in the tux. It had been nearly twenty-four hours, and he still thought my anger was about a goddamn suit. I opened the folders on my laptop, the digital archive of his entire career that I had built from scratch. Every retouched photo, every witty caption, every strategically timed post—all born from countless sleepless nights of my own. For years, his public persona had never strayed an inch from the script I wrote. But his life… his life had long since gone off-script. I deleted his contact, then wiped every backup, every file, every trace of him from my digital life. The next day, I drove to my grandmother’s house. “Good heavens, you’re skin and bones!” she exclaimed, her warm, wrinkled hand cupping my face. “Aren’t you supposed to be making a fortune? Why does it look like they’ve stopped feeding you?” “And where’s Jeffrey? How come that boy didn’t come with you? He’s looking all slick and well-fed on TV while you waste away?” she grumbled, gesturing at the television where his new drama was playing. I didn’t have the energy to explain that the camera adds ten pounds, or that he had a whole new person to dote on him now. I just buried my face in her familiar, comforting embrace. “Grandma,” I mumbled into her shoulder, “I’m starving. Can you make me your famous tomato soup and grilled cheese?” After I’d scraped the bowl clean, I finally found the courage. “Grandma, I quit my job. You’re going to have to support me.” She was clearing the table. “I’d be thrilled, but I’m afraid you’ll get restless,” she said without turning around. “Besides, how long can you stay away from that boy? You’re just like your mother, a hopeless case.” I wrapped my arms around her from behind. “I’m not like her, Grandma. I know the difference between what’s important for Jeffrey, and what’s important for me.” “I want to get away for a while. Want to come with me?” Her body tensed for a moment, then she nudged me away. “Go on, get out of here. Wipe your mouth.” She didn’t say yes, but I knew from the slight curve of her lips that she was smiling. Just then, my phone buzzed with an alert from my apartment’s video doorbell. On the screen was Sarah’s cloyingly sweet face. “What is it? Work again?” Grandma waved a dismissive hand, used to my chaotic schedule. “Go on, then. Just call before you come next time so I can get groceries… oh, never mind. With your job, you can never plan ahead.” It hit me then how often I’d rushed in and out, always for Jeffrey, never making enough time for her. I walked a few steps toward the door, then glanced back. Just as I suspected, she was still standing in the kitchen doorway, watching me. When our eyes met, she quickly pretended to be tidying up. The people who truly love you, I realized, are the ones whose care is so quiet you might almost miss it. 3 I drove back to the studio I shared with Jeffrey. I didn’t see Sarah, so I called the police. At the station, Sarah was a mess of tears. “Kathryn, I didn’t mean any harm! Jeffrey said you had a backup of the file he needed, and you weren’t answering my texts…” “So your solution was to try and pry the door open?” “I… I was just in a panic…” “If I hadn’t changed the locks last week, you would have just let yourself in and made yourself at home, wouldn’t you?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. Her wails were about to escalate when the door to the mediation room flew open. Jeffrey had arrived. “Jeffrey!” Sarah shot to her feet as if a savior had appeared. “It wasn’t—I was afraid Kathryn would be mad, so I took matters into my own hands… I was really just trying to get the file for you!” Jeffrey was breathless, his chest heaving. That studio… we rented it when we were broke, sleeping on the floor some nights. After he made it big, he bought a mansion and I got my own apartment, but I always preferred working there. It held all our memories, the evidence of every sacrifice I’d ever made. “What the hell is going on? Why are the police involved?” Jeffrey demanded, his sharp tone directed at me. Sarah bit her lip, holding back a fresh wave of tears, the very picture of martyrdom. “It’s all my fault. It has nothing to do with Kathryn.” Jeffrey’s personal assistant, who had come with him, was already smoothing things over with the officer. “It’s all a misunderstanding, officer. They all know each other. Sorry to have wasted your time.” The policewoman ignored him, her gaze fixed on me, waiting for my decision. Jeffrey dragged me out into the hallway. “Nothing was stolen,” he hissed, his voice low and furious. “Take your anger out on me if you have to, but why drag her into it? Do you have any idea what kind of story this will make if it gets out?” “Did you give her the code?” I asked. His face tightened. “She asked me for it…” “So you told her to go?” “Enough!” he snapped. “She’s my assistant. What’s the big deal about her grabbing a file? Are you actually going to press charges? How would you explain that to Catherine? The media would have a field day, and you’d be the one cleaning it up!” He still didn’t know. He had no idea I’d already quit. “Jeffrey, do you honestly see yourself as some kind of noble hero here? You think I’m doing this to get back at you?” I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “She trespassed in my workspace without my permission. And I’m the one in the wrong for calling the police?” “Jeffrey, it’s my fault…” Sarah sobbed from the doorway. “Kathryn, I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for any damages, whatever you want. Please, can we just handle this privately? I’m begging you.” Her performance only fueled my rage. Jeffrey, however, had reached his limit. “Kathryn, don’t push it!” he shot back impatiently. “This studio is registered under my name!” With that, he went back inside and, with a few smooth words, resolved the entire situation. Of course. I had almost forgotten. The studio was his. I had just been a guest who had overstayed her welcome, deluding herself into thinking she belonged. “Let’s go. The car’s outside,” Jeffrey said, brushing past me. “No, thanks. It’s a little too crowded for me.” I walked away without a backward glance. Behind me, I could hear the whispers of onlookers. “Isn’t that Jeffrey Cabrera, the movie star?” “Which one is his girlfriend? I heard they’ve been together for years.” “Probably the one crying inside. The one walking away looks like she could kill someone.”

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The year Nathan loved me most, he cut ties with his family and eloped with me, moving abroad to start a new life. But on the day he washed his thousandth dish, the day he coughed up blood from sheer exhaustion, I took three million dollars from his parents. Then I stood and watched as he was forced onto a helicopter bound for home. He clung to the helicopter door, begging me not to leave him, even as his fingers broke and bled. And I? I threw the money he’d earned into the sink and told him it wasn’t even enough to buy me a single tube of paint. I told him a pauper like him had no right to talk to me about a future. Seven years later, at a lavish charity gala, we met again. I begged him for money. He agreed, on one condition: that I be the artist for his wedding, that I witness his happiness with my own eyes. I nodded without hesitation. He didn’t know that the money I needed was to save a little girl. A little girl who shared his blood, a daughter he never knew existed. 1 “I will.” “As long as you keep your word, Mr. Vance.” In a dimly lit corner of the grand ballroom, I stood beside Nathan, my back bowed in deference. A long, slow breath of relief escaped me. The condition was so simple. If I just agreed, I could save my Madelyn. Thank God. But Nathan didn’t move. He stared down at the top of my head for a long moment before a cold sneer twisted his lips. “Only seven years, and you’ve already blown through all three million?” “Was it all on paint?” My breath caught. I dug my nails into my palm, then forced myself to look up, plastering a sycophantic, pleasing smile on my face. “Yes, the money ran out a long time ago.” “That’s why I need a man of your stature to help me out.” After seven years, he was a powerful CEO, a man whose world I could no longer hope to touch. He abruptly let go of my arm as if he’d touched something filthy. “Nathan, what are you doing back here? Found an old flame?” “Hey, man, you’re getting married. Don’t let Susan…” The voice died in the man’s throat. “Jess Kang? What are you doing here?” Nathan’s friends stared at me, their faces instantly hardening. “Nathan, don’t be a fool!” one of them said, anxiously studying his expression. “Have you forgotten how she lied to you, how she ruined you? You can’t trust her again!” I lowered my head again, saying nothing. Everyone knew how insane Nathan had been for me back then. To elope with me, he’d jumped from a third-story window of his family’s mansion, shattering his ankle. He hadn’t even had it set until after our plane landed. To afford the finest art supplies for me, he’d worked six jobs a day, working himself to the point of coughing up blood, yet he wouldn’t even buy himself a full course of medicine. And I had abandoned him in the span of a single second. So I couldn’t blame his friends for looking at me like they wanted to kill me. “You’re overthinking it,” Nathan said, his voice flat. “I’ve just invited her to be the artist for my wedding. To paint Susan and me.” Susan. His fiancée. I repeated the beautiful name to myself, then looked up at them with a brazen, carefree smile. “That’s right. As long as the price is right.” “What can I get you all to drink? I’ll go get it.” No one offered me so much as a kind glance. They formed a tight circle around Nathan and me, their voices a rising chorus of accusations, calling me heartless, warning Nathan not to fall for my tricks again. I just bowed and scraped, playing along with their insults. I saw my manager across the room, waving impatiently at me, and a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Nathan followed my gaze. His face was a mask, devoid of emotion. He simply signed a check and tossed it at my feet. “You start tomorrow. This is the down payment.” He waved a dismissive hand at me, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of my face for another second. I snatched the check from the floor, my fingers closing around it tightly, and backed out of the circle. Madelyn’s hospital bills. I could pay them. I was so happy I could have cried. Even when my manager made me wash dishes for an extra two hours, I didn’t feel the least bit resentful. The thin rubber gloves tore quickly, and the skin on my fingers peeled away, leaving them looking like waterlogged, rotting wood. But I felt no pain. Instead, my mind drifted back to the past, to the nights when Nathan would come home from his own dishwashing job, and I would gently apply ointment to his chapped, raw hands. It was cheap stuff, barely effective, but he was so stubborn, he’d never let me use more than a tiny amount. “I’m a grown man. What do I need this for?” he’d say, hiding his chilblained hands and taking mine instead. “A painter’s hands… those are the ones that are precious.” Lost in the memory, my hand slipped. A plate shattered at my feet. A pang of dread shot through me as I calculated how much would be docked from this month’s pay. But before I could even bend down to pick up the pieces, a figure appeared beside me, yanking me to my feet. “Jess, what are you doing to your hands?!” 2 I looked up and met Nathan’s furious gaze. But the moment the words left his mouth, he froze. It was the same thing he used to shout at me whenever he got angry, back before we broke up. When I’d cut my finger trying to slice fruit for him. When I’d worked at a fast-food joint and hot oil had spattered the back of my hand. He would always say, in that harsh, worried tone, Jess, what are you doing to your hands? He said my hands were for painting, not for menial tasks. He treasured my hands, my art, as much as he treasured me. We had met at an art exhibition, after all. We were in different departments at the same university, a year apart. Our paths had never crossed. But that day, amidst the bustling crowd of the gallery, he was the only one who stood in the corner, in front of my painting, and studied it for a full hour. I was ecstatic. I chattered at him for ages, telling him about my work, asking for his thoughts and advice. But he was a man of few words and offered little in return. I found out later that he was a severe depressive. That day had been the first day he was out after recovering from his last suicide attempt. None of that mattered to me. We quickly became friends. And then, lovers. He came to my studio every day to watch me paint. He listened intently to every word I said, no matter how much I rambled. And those eyes, usually so clouded with a deep-seated gloom, slowly began to find a glimmer of a smile in my endless chatter. I was with him as he slowly, painstakingly, returned to a normal life. Then came graduation, and his family demanded we break up, citing our difference in status. He didn’t hesitate. He took me and we eloped, leaving the country behind. He told me that no matter how hard it got, he would make me the most famous painter in the world. He said my art had saved him, so I should never feel guilty for anything he did for me. He saw me as the sun that had pulled him from the abyss. And I betrayed him without a second thought. Because it was all taking too long. I couldn’t wait for a future built on the coins he earned washing one dish at a time. “Why are you doing this?” The memory faded. I saw Nathan pull himself back from the brink of his outburst, releasing my arm. “Waitstaff have to wash dishes in addition to serving?” His voice was flat, emotionless, just like when we first met. He was a puppet again, all strings and no feeling. “Just trying to earn a little extra, you know?” I awkwardly hid my hands behind my back, glancing around. A wave of relief washed over me. My coworkers were all gone. No one had seen us. “I was a bit reckless these past few years, made some bad investments. Now I’m working odd jobs to pay off my debts.” I crouched down to pick up the shards, not daring to meet his eyes. “It’s a good thing I ran into you today. You were so generous…” His hand gently brushed mine away. In silence, he picked up the sharp fragments and threw them in a nearby trash can. Then he stood up, looming over me. “Are you still painting?” I remained crouched on the floor, my hands empty. For a split second, my mind went blank. Then I composed myself and looked up at him. “Of course. That’s my main profession.” He just looked at me, saying nothing. My heart hammered against my ribs. I was terrified he would see through my lie and take back his offer to be his wedding artist. Thankfully, the tense silence was broken by a phone call. “Nathan, are you almost home? I made you some soup to help with the hangover.” The woman’s voice on the other end was melodious and gentle. I took a step back, the name echoing in my mind. Susan. The fiancée his friends had mentioned, the one who was his perfect match. “Almost there,” Nathan said, then paused. “You have a cold. You should be resting. Don’t wait up for me, get some sleep.” I didn’t look up, but I could feel his eyes on me as he spoke. I suppressed the bitter sting in my throat and tried to slip away while he was still on the phone. “Jess.” The moment I turned, he ended the call. “You’ve been hiding for seven years. Is there any point in running now?” “See you tomorrow.” 3 I pretended not to understand the sarcasm laced in his words, simply nodding before hurrying away. The next day, as promised, I arrived at his villa. Susan greeted me at the door and even poured me a cup of tea. “Ms. Kang. It’s been a long time,” she said, a faint, knowing smile on her face as she took in my confused expression. “You probably don’t remember me. Nathan and I were in the same department. I used to see him going to find you all the time.” Now I knew why the name had felt familiar. Susan had known him for just as long as I had. “I used to be so envious of you,” she continued. “A man like him, born to such privilege, so cold to everyone else, yet he only had eyes for you.” “I never imagined you two would break up so… decisively.” I managed a tight, awkward smile and retreated to a corner to set up my easel, not daring to say another word. He was cold because of his illness. And he only had eyes for me probably because… I was relentless. But all of that was in the past. Now, my subjects were Nathan and Susan, a perfect, storybook couple. I spent the morning at their home, painting a scene of them watering flowers in the garden, Nathan’s hand resting on her waist. “It’s beautiful. No wonder Nathan insisted on hiring you,” Susan said with a satisfied nod, handing me a glass of water. “You’ve been painting all morning. You must be tired. Take a break.” I accepted it without a second thought and took a large gulp. Scalding hot water seared its way down my throat. I clutched my neck, coughing violently. “Oh, dear! I forgot this was freshly boiled water!” Susan exclaimed, standing up with a look of apology. In her haste, she knocked over the glass. My morning’s work was instantly ruined, a wash of bleeding colors. But I barely registered it. The pain in my throat led to an endless fit of coughing. Soon, I couldn’t breathe. It was Nathan who came rushing in. He carried me to a room and forced an asthma inhaler into my mouth. The black fog clouding my vision slowly receded. As my breathing evened out, I saw Nathan’s red-rimmed eyes. And behind him, on the nightstand, was a row of unopened asthma medication. The same brand I used to use. “Jess,” Nathan’s voice trembled. “Wasn’t three million dollars enough for you to buy yourself the best medicine?” I slowly sat up, waving a dismissive hand. “Of course I did. It was three million dollars. You don’t have to worry about me not taking care of myself.” I gave him a weak smile. “I haven’t had an attack in ages. What just happened was an accident. I know Ms. Lin didn’t mean to…” “Shut up.” I stared at him, stunned by his sudden interruption. “I looked into it. Painting hasn’t been your main profession for years.” Nathan’s voice was numb, as if he were reading my death sentence. “You haven’t sold a single painting. Your name disappeared from the art world seven years ago.” “The reason you gave for leaving me was your art.” “But now, even the asthma inhaler you carry is the cheapest kind you can buy.” As if by magic, he produced the small plastic inhaler from my bag. He took a step forward, trapping me against the headboard. “So you tell me,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “What did you really do with that three million dollars?” 4 My body began to tremble. But I couldn’t let him know. I hid my hands behind my back and dug my nails into my own flesh. The pain in my scarred, calloused hands was sharp, excruciating. But it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. The three million dollars was long gone. It was all for Madelyn. Our daughter, the one I had given birth to in secret, the one born with a congenital heart defect. I had spent every penny in hospitals, from the day she was born until now, her seventh year. A month ago, she had finally undergone a successful heart transplant, only to suffer a severe rejection. The staggering cost of her ongoing treatment was a mountain crushing the very breath from my lungs. And then, just as I was about to break, Nathan had reappeared. So I had no choice but to seek him out, to tear my own dignity to shreds, to shamelessly exploit our shared past and beg him for help. As for painting… I thought back to that morning, sitting before the easel, the feel of the brush in my hand. A small, sad smile touched my lips. It felt like a lifetime ago. But I couldn’t tell him a single word of it. “I’m not some famous artist. My sales are all private deals. It’s normal that no one’s heard of me.” I slipped out from under his arm and gave him a nonchalant shrug. “I told you, I squandered the three million. That’s why I have to work odd jobs to pay off my debts while I paint.” “And as for my asthma… it’s incurable, so it doesn’t matter what kind of medicine I use.” A terrible silence descended between us again, a chasm I couldn’t cross. And in the doorway stood Susan, the jealousy and resentment in her eyes undisguised, marring her otherwise gentle, beautiful face. I fled. You don’t deserve him, Jess, I told myself, over and over again. A week later, I finished my work at Nathan’s villa and went to the hospital to see my precious girl. Madelyn said my voice still sounded like Donald Duck. I just smiled and gently pinched her pale little cheek. My throat was healing slowly from the burn. But at least Nathan had barely spoken to me since the incident. He had probably given up on me, again. And that was for the best. I didn’t regret my choice. I couldn’t be a burden to him seven years ago, and I couldn’t be one now. Once the wedding was over and I had the money, I would disappear. I just had to get through tomorrow. “If Mommy’s Donald Duck, then you’re my little Goof—” “Madelyn! Sweetheart! Doctor!” Without any warning, my daughter, who had been laughing with me just a second ago, suddenly closed her eyes, her breathing becoming heavy and labored. The heart rate monitor beside her bed shrieked. I watched, helpless, as she was wheeled back into the operating room, just two hours after her last procedure. I collapsed onto a bench outside, a hollow shell. The world swam before my eyes. The doctor’s words echoed in my ears. He said the rejection was getting worse, that if she couldn’t get through this critical period, she might never… I couldn’t bear to hear the rest. I felt my own breathing quicken, the familiar sense of suffocation closing in. “Jess, breathe! Breathe!” In the last second before my consciousness faded, Nathan appeared before me like a dream, holding me, forcing the inhaler to my lips. I pushed his hand away and fell to my knees before him, sobbing. “The rest of the money… the four hundred thousand… can you give it to me now? I can’t wait until tomorrow. I need to transfer Madelyn to a better hospital today…” “She’s my daughter, she’s six years old… I had her with someone else after you left… but she’s so good, so sweet, please, I’m begging you…” I was babbling, incoherent with grief, just begging him, over and over. He held me tight, repeating that it was going to be okay, telling me to calm down. “I have a friend who’s a specialist in this field. I’m messaging him right now. He’ll arrange the transfer.” “The wedding is canceled tomorrow. I’ll go with you. Your daughter will be fine.” “Don’t cry.” Something warm and wet fell onto my neck. It couldn’t be Nathan’s tears, could it? The thought floated through my dazed mind. Then a phone rang. Nathan quickly answered it, putting it on speaker and holding it up to my ear, desperate for me to hear the news that might save me. “It’s all arranged. You can bring the little one over tomorrow,” a strange man’s voice said from the other end. “But there’s one thing you might have wrong. The child isn’t six, like you said.” “The medical records from the hospital say she’s seven years old.”

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