Category: English

When it was time to exchange rings at my wedding, my best friend suddenly walked up to the altar, wearing a wedding gown and sporting a bright smile. And my fiancé, Austin Harrison, slipped my wedding ring onto her ring finger right sin front of all the guests. With eyes welling with tears, I demanded an explanation. But the two of them looked at each other and actually burst out laughing. Hailey Bennett waved her hand, showing off the ring on her finger. “Chloe, Austin and I made a bet last night on who would win the World Cup final.” “He lost. So, according to our bet, I get to be the bride today.” Austin wrapped his arm around her waist, his tone completely relaxed. “It’s just letting Hailey be the bride for one day. We’ll host another wedding for us next month. Don’t be such a party pooper.” They always loved to use me as a betting chip. At our engagement party, he lost a bet, and my engagement ring ended up on Hailey’s finger first. When we took our wedding photos, he lost another bet, and ended up shooting the snowy-themed photoshoot—my absolute favorite—with Hailey instead of me. Even the master bedroom of our new house was decorated exactly the way Hailey liked it, all because of a lost bet. Every time I felt hurt and cried, they would smile and say, “It’s just a bet. Why are you taking it so seriously?” But it wasn’t until today that I finally understood. In their eyes, my wedding, my love, and my entire life were nothing but cheap chips they could toss onto their gambling table whenever they pleased. I looked at Austin. The pain in my chest finally cleared, replaced by an absolute, icy calm. “If you want to give her the wedding, you can go with her too.”

After saying that, I turned around to leave. But Austin grabbed my wrist tightly. “Chloe Miller, that’s enough.” “All of our family, friends, and business partners are here. Do you really have to embarrass everyone and make a scene?” I yanked my hand out of his grip. “Am I the one making a scene?” “Today was supposed to be my wedding!” Austin frowned, his voice dripping with impatience. “I already told you, it’s just for Hailey to experience it for one day.” “Once the wedding is over, nothing changes between us.” “Are you seriously going to break up with me over a stupid ceremony?” He paused, as if remembering something, and let out a scoff. “You said the exact same thing last month—that you were done with us.” “But didn’t you end up buying Hailey’s birthday cake yourself a few days later?” Hailey laughed along. “Chloe, every time you lose your temper, you threaten to cut us off.” “But in three days max, you always come crawling back to us.” She twirled the wedding ring on her finger, her smile filled with mock playfulness. “This time, I bet it’ll only take two days.” “Austin, do you want to bet on this?” Austin looked down at her. “What’s the wager?” “Let’s bet on how long it takes for Chloe to come back to us.” “If she begs for your forgiveness within two days, you have to give me the custom vanity set in the master bedroom.” Austin didn’t hesitate for a single second. “Deal.” “Actually, she won’t even last a day.” Right in front of my face, the two of them started placing another bet on me. It was as if the breakup I had just declared was nothing more than a new, amusing game designed for their entertainment. I stared at Austin. “Are you really that confident that I’ll come back?” Austin’s voice was dead calm. “We’ve been together for six years.” “You spent an entire year planning this wedding just to marry me.” “You personally booked the venue, chose the dress, and managed the guest list.” “Chloe, do you really have the guts to leave me?” He knew the old me too well. That was why he dared to step over my boundaries again and again. Because no matter who won or lost, I was always the one who cleaned up the mess in the end. When Hailey ruined my engagement dress, I was the one who quietly ordered a replacement. When she tore up my photos with Austin, I was the one who said it was fine. Even when she redecorated our new home into her favorite style, I was the one who ended up apologizing to Austin, saying I shouldn’t have argued with them over interior design. It wasn’t that they didn’t know I would be hurt. They were just absolutely sure I would never leave. From the guest tables below, one of Austin’s friends, Liam, called out with a chuckle: “Come on, Chloe, don’t take it so seriously.” “Austin and Hailey have always been like this. They’re just goofing around.” “Besides, Hailey is a proud independent woman who’s never getting married anyway.” “Letting her experience a wedding is just a nice way to check it off her bucket list.” “Calling off the wedding over something so trivial makes you look really petty.” One voice after another. Everyone was telling me to be the bigger person. But not a single person asked me if I was willing to give away my own wedding. Austin’s mother, Victoria, walked up to the stage from the VIP table. She took Hailey’s hand, her eyes filled with nothing but warm approval. “You know, this ring actually looks much better on Hailey than it does on Chloe.” Hailey smiled coyly, leaning into her. “Mrs. Harrison, please don’t say that.” “Chloe will be sad if she hears you.” Victoria shot me a cold, dismissive glance. “She’s about to marry into the Harrison family. If she can’t even handle a little joke like this, how is she going to survive as our daughter-in-law?” Then, she patted Hailey’s hand gently. “Honestly, I’ve always liked you more, Hailey.” “You’re lively and you know how to make people happy.” “Unlike some people who always have to argue about who’s right or wrong, ruining the mood over every little thing.” Austin’s father, Richard, also walked over with a glass of champagne in his hand. “Since Austin lost the bet, he has to honor it. A man must keep his word.” “We can just throw another wedding for Chloe next month. It’s no big deal.” I looked at him. “In your eyes, a wedding is something that can just be casually redone?” Richard’s face darkened with displeasure. “It’s just a ceremony.” “As long as Austin is still marrying you in the end, what more do you want?” “And to be completely honest with you.” “If Hailey weren’t against the idea of marriage, we would have much preferred Austin to marry her.”

The entire banquet hall fell dead silent. Austin finally noticed the icy expression on my face. Frowning, he interrupted his father. “Dad, why are you bringing this up today?” Then, he turned to me. “My parents just like Hailey’s outgoing personality.” “Don’t take everything so personally.” I suddenly laughed. Any words that cut me to the bone could always be brushed off as “just a joke.” Hailey clung tighter to Austin’s arm. “Alright, let’s not fight because of me.” “Chloe, since you already said you’re giving the wedding to me, just let me finish the rest of the ceremony.” She looked at my wedding gown, her eyes curving into sweet crescents. “After all, you get to have another wedding next month anyway.” I didn’t argue with her. Instead, I pulled out my phone and dialed the event coordinator. “The bride for today’s wedding has been changed at the last minute.” “I refuse to pay the remaining balance.” The phone went quiet for a few seconds. The coordinator asked hesitantly, “Miss Miller, didn’t you know?” “A month ago, Mr. Harrison came in with Miss Bennett to modify the contract.” “The bride’s name on the contract was changed to Hailey Bennett a long time ago.” My hand gripping the phone suddenly tightened. “A month ago?” “Yes.” “Miss Bennett also personally re-confirmed the menu and the stage setup.” “Mr. Harrison told us that all the changes were made with your full consent.” I raised my head to look at the two people standing on the stage. So, this so-called “bet on the World Cup” from last night… They had already planned this an entire month ago. Suppressing my trembling voice, I continued, “What about the remaining balance?” The coordinator replied, “It was fully paid off last night.” “Mr. Harrison authorized a payment of $95,000 from your joint wedding account.” I quickly opened my banking app. The balance of our joint account was exactly $3.70. That $95,000 was my entire life savings from five years of grueling work. I had planned to use the remaining money after the wedding to open my own interior design studio. Seeing my phone screen, Austin finally walked down from the stage. “The money is already paid. Even if you cancel now, the venue won’t give you a refund.” I stared at him, my eyes burning. “What gave you the right to touch my money without my permission?” Austin replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “That money was meant for the wedding anyway.” “The wedding is still happening today, so the money didn’t go to waste.” Hailey cozied up next to him, gently showing off the ring. “Chloe, didn’t you just say you were giving the wedding to me?” “Since you gave it to me, of course that includes the expenses.” Looking at them playing their tag-team game, my anger suddenly vanished. They didn’t just use my wedding as a toy. They stole my savings. All so Hailey could have a grand, luxurious wedding with my fiancé using my hard-earned money.

The moment I stepped off the stage, my mother pushed through the crowd and grabbed my hand. “Chloe, sweetheart, what is going on?” My parents were seated at the very back of the hall, right next to the exit doors. They were the only two guests from my side of the family. My relatives from our small hometown had all wanted to fly in, but Victoria had complained that they were “clueless about etiquette” and would embarrass the Harrison family. Austin had also told me, “We can just host a cheap dinner back in your hometown later. Don’t invite too many people here.” So, my parents had taken a grueling twelve-hour Greyhound bus ride alone just to attend their daughter’s wedding. My mother’s dress was slightly ill-fitting; she had tailored the waist herself with a needle and thread. The “Father of the Bride” boutonniere on my father’s chest had been crushed in the crowd, but he still refused to take it off. Now, they had to watch Hailey wearing my wedding dress and my ring. My father walked right up to Austin. “Take that ring off her finger, and apologize to my daughter.” Austin’s face darkened. “Mr. Miller, it’s just a harmless bet.” “Hailey is just filling in for the ceremony today. I’m still going to sign the marriage license with Chloe after this.” My father froze for a second. “You’re having a wedding with her, but you want my daughter to just sign papers?” “What does that make my daughter?” Austin frowned. “We’ve always played games like this. Chloe never used to care.” My mother was trembling with rage. “Just because she didn’t complain, you think you can walk all over her?” In her anger, her small-town accent slipped out, and her voice grew louder. Victoria immediately raised her chin, her face cold. “Please, watch your volume.” “This isn’t your quiet little trailer park.” “The people here today are all elite clients of the Harrison family. Are you trying to make us a laughingstock with your screaming?” Whispers erupted from the surrounding tables. “No manners at all. Typical small-town folks.” My mother’s face flushed a deep, painful red. She had only wanted to stand up for her daughter, but now she shrank back, nervously clutching her fingers, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m not trying to make a scene.” “I just… I just hurt for my daughter.” A sharp pang of sorrow hit my chest. She had done absolutely nothing wrong, yet she felt forced to apologize to the very people who were humiliating her. Austin interrupted impatiently. “Let’s just let Hailey have this wedding today.” “Next month, I’ll go to your hometown and host a nice dinner.” “All of your relatives can come. I think that’s more than fair to Chloe.” My father slowly raised his head. “You give this hundred-thousand-dollar wedding to her…” “…and then you want to brush my daughter off with a cheap dinner in some small town?” Austin’s expression turned ugly. “I already promised to throw another dinner. What more do you want?” Hailey finally sashayed over, holding up her dress, and reached out to hold my mother’s hand with fake warmth. “Mrs. Miller, does it really matter where the wedding is held?” “It wasn’t easy for you and Mr. Miller to travel all this way.” She pointed to the party favors stacked in the corner. “Why don’t you take a few extra boxes of chocolates back home to share with your neighbors? At least you won’t leave empty-handed.” My mother flinched and pulled her hand back as if she had been burned. My father ripped the red boutonniere off his chest and slammed it onto the table. “Our family might not be rich.” “But we are not so poor that we would trade our daughter’s dignity for a few boxes of chocolates!” Hailey’s eyes instantly welled with tears. “Mr. Miller, I was just trying to be nice.” Austin immediately stepped in front of her to shield her. “That’s enough!” “Hailey is trying to accommodate you, and you’re being completely ungrateful.” My father stared at him quietly. “When you got down on your knees in front of us, you swore you would never let Chloe suffer a single day of unhappiness.” Austin avoided his gaze. My father didn’t ask anything else. He turned to wipe the tears from my face, his voice suddenly sounding ten years older. “Chloe, I was wrong about him.” “We are not doing this. Let’s go home.” My tears finally spilled over. The entire room of wealthy guests was pressuring me to endure this humiliation. Only my parents, who had just been deeply insulted, stood firmly in front of me. I pulled off my bridal veil and took each of their hands. “Okay.” “Let’s go home.” Behind us, Austin let out a cold laugh. “Since she wants to walk out so badly, let’s make another bet.” Hailey’s eyes lit up instantly. “I bet Chloe won’t last three days before she brings her parents back to apologize to us.” Austin stared at my retreating back, his voice filled with absolute certainty. “It won’t even take three days.” “She’ll crawl back this afternoon, begging me to sign the marriage license.” Hailey giggled. “And the wager?” “If she doesn’t apologize to me by tonight, the penthouse downtown is yours.” “Deal.” Their laughter echoed from behind us. Even at this very moment, they still viewed my dignity as a pathetic little game. I didn’t look back. As we walked out of the hotel lobby, my father asked softly, “Chloe, sweetheart… do you regret it?” I caught sight of the welcome sign at the entrance, which proudly displayed the names: Austin Harrison & Hailey Bennett. I squeezed my parents’ hands tightly. “I only regret not seeing through them sooner.” But I wasn’t just going to walk away. I was going to leave Austin a grand parting gift. Since he loved betting so much, I wanted to see if he could actually afford to lose this time.

At 3:00 PM, a notification popped up on my phone. 【Reminder: Your appointment to register your marriage license is scheduled for today at 4:20 PM. Please arrive on time with your IDs.】 Right after, Austin sent a screenshot of the appointment on Snapchat. “I’m throwing you a bone here.” “Be at City Hall by 4:00 PM. I’ll overlook the stunt you pulled today, and we can still sign the papers.” Austin then sent a voice note. “But before we sign, you have to apologize to my parents.” “And to Hailey.” “She cried for a long time today because of how you and your dad treated her.” “As long as you sincerely apologize, we can put this behind us.” I calmly typed back two words. “Sure, see you there.” The Snapchat group chat went quiet for a few seconds. Then, Austin tagged Hailey. “I won.” Hailey sent a pouting emoji. “Ugh, fine. A bet’s a bet.” “But when you guys go on your honeymoon, I’m tagging along.” Austin immediately sent a screenshot of an added flight ticket. “Already bought your ticket.” It turned out that even the honeymoon I had looked forward to for months was just another prize on their betting table. At 4:15 PM, I arrived at City Hall. Austin was waiting near the entrance of the registry office. When he saw me, the tension on his face finally melted into a smug smile. “I knew you’d come back.” “My parents and Hailey are waiting at the restaurant.” “Once we sign the papers, I’ll take you there to apologize.” He held out his hand. “Give me your ID.” I didn’t move. The next second, two police officers stepped out from behind me. “Mr. Austin Harrison?” “We received a report of grand larceny. You are accused of unauthorized access to another person’s bank account and stealing $95,000.” The smug smile on Austin’s face instantly froze. “Stealing? What are you talking about?” “That’s our joint wedding fund!” I pulled out my bank statements and the modified hotel contract. “The account is solely under my name, and every single dollar in it came from my personal income.” “You stole my password while I was asleep and forged my authorization to pay the venue.” “I have already handed over the hotel’s security footage, the transaction records, and our chat history to the police.” The officers stepped forward and handcuffed his wrists. Austin finally panicked. “Chloe Miller, didn’t you come here to sign our marriage license?!” I looked at him and smiled gently. “No. I came to watch you get arrested.”

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One month before our wedding, my fiancé, Julian Vance, took in a sweet, young college girl. He bought her an apartment, a car, and showered her with millions. He was being way more dramatic and high-profile than when he was chasing me. When my housekeeper, Maria, told me about it, I was picking out photos for our wedding album. My expression didn’t even flicker when I heard the news. “Got it.” She looked at me, completely frustrated. “Aren’t you even a little worried? Chloe Bennett looks even more like Helena than you do!” “If this keeps up, forget about the wedding—your entire position in this house is threatened!” Before I could say anything, my phone buzzed with a message from Julian on Snapchat: “Let’s put the wedding on hold for now. Chloe is young and too clingy.” “I’ll dump her in six months at most. If you’re worried, we can go sign our marriage license at the courthouse first.” I saved the last wedding photo to my album and replied: “No need. It’s just a fling anyway.” He always liked how sensible and low-maintenance I was. He replied with satisfaction: “Good girl.” Good girl? I smiled. I hoped he’d still think so when he attended my wedding with his uncle.

“You’re still laughing?” Maria stomped her foot in frustration. “I seriously don’t get what’s going through your head. Don’t you feel any sense of crisis?” Since I had lost my mother at a young age, I had treated Maria like my own mother ever since I started dating Julian. Looking at her worried face, my smile widened. “It’s fine. Julian was never planning on a proper wedding anyway.” Maria fell silent. Julian and I had set our wedding date three times now. The first time, I was the one begging him, throwing tantrums just to marry him. He reluctantly got engaged to me. But right before the wedding, he canceled it using a business trip as an excuse. The second time was also me. I faked being sick and played the victim, reminding him of his deceased first love, Helena. He reluctantly agreed again. But it didn’t take long for him to see through my act. This third time, he was the one who brought it up. I was thirty now, no longer in my prime. My face, which used to look so much like Helena’s, had started showing fine lines. He bought me a bunch of expensive skincare products and casually proposed. He probably wanted to capture photos of our wedding while I still bore some resemblance to her. Too bad that even though we had already taken the photos, Chloe Bennett suddenly showed up. She looked way more like Helena than I did. She had just graduated from college—youthful, vibrant. Especially her eyes; when she smiled, they looked exactly like Helena’s. It was entirely within my expectations that Julian would postpone the wedding for her. I just hadn’t expected him to be willing to sign the marriage license with me first. “Julian announced that the wedding is postponed for six months? How could he do this?!” Maria’s shout pulled me out of my thoughts. She held up her phone to my face in shock. Five minutes ago, Julian had posted on Instagram: “Due to work reasons, my wedding with Clara is postponed for six months. Sorry for the inconvenience, everyone.” I sneered in my heart. He claimed it was for work, but everyone in our circle knew the real reason. Within a month, he had spent nearly three million dollars on Chloe. He had also taken her to various high-profile events without hiding a thing. Rumors had been flying around our social circle that I was discarded. Some people were even betting on when I’d lose my mind and try to kill myself. After all, to marry Julian, I had threatened to jump off buildings a few times in the past. Maria looked at me with deep concern. “Clara, what are you going to do?” “Tell Julian to make sure they use protection,” I said calmly. “Chloe is still young. I’d hate for her to ruin her health.” Maria let out a heavy sigh. “I knew you were still bitter about what happened two years ago.” “Actually, maybe it was for the best that you didn’t have that baby. Your health was so bad back then, you probably wouldn’t have carried it to term anyway.” I didn’t argue. I just shook my head. “We’re even now.” She didn’t get what I meant. She just sighed again. “You… you’re just too sensible.” Just then, a message popped up on my phone from Arthur. A voice note played, his deep, amused voice filling the room: “The photos look great. You have amazing taste.” “I’ll announce our marriage in the family Snapchat group today.” Maria froze. Her mouth fell open, and it took her a long time to find her voice. “You… you know Julian’s uncle, Arthur?” She couldn’t believe the person Arthur was talking about was me. I had no intention of hiding it. “Yes, he’s my husband.” “We’ve already signed the papers.” Nobody knew. While Julian was busy chasing Chloe with all his might, I hadn’t been idle either. His uncle, Arthur Vance, looked far more like the man in my heart than Julian ever did. After clinging to Julian for all these years, I had almost forgotten my original purpose. If Chloe hadn’t suddenly appeared, I might have actually believed I was in love with Julian. Signing those papers with Arthur was indeed a bit impulsive. But today proved that I made the right choice.

Maria looked utterly shocked. “So when you were with Julian, you weren’t just a willing stand-in—you were using him as a stand-in too?” I gave a bitter smile. Stand-in or not, this wasn’t some cheesy soap opera. I just wanted to survive. Seven years ago, my fiancé, Leo Wood, died on our wedding day. My soul died with him that day. Now, only this empty shell remained, desperately needing something to hold onto. I told Maria to keep quiet about this and sent Arthur a reply: “If Julian makes a scene, please handle it.” “I’m already looking at houses. I’ll move out in a few days.” Maria’s face went pale. “Clara, are you just saying this because you’re disappointed in Julian?” “Trust me, I know him. You are the most important person to him. Chloe is just a temporary amusement!” I knew that. My seven years with Julian couldn’t be replaced by Chloe overnight. But he had found someone who looked more like Helena, and I had found someone who looked more like Leo. I looked down at my new lock screen. Arthur was in a tailored suit, his eyes cold and sharp, yet they softened into a smile when he looked at me. He looked exactly like Leo. I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. If I waited any longer, I wouldn’t even recognize myself anymore. That evening, Julian came home unusually early. He smiled as soon as he walked in. “Do you remember my uncle Arthur? He suddenly announced in the family group that he’s getting married next month. He wouldn’t say who the bride is. Keeping it so mysterious.” I raised an eyebrow. “Is it the person we had dinner with last time?” “Yeah, him.” Maria opened her mouth several times but said nothing in the end, retreating to the kitchen to make dinner. Then, Julian suddenly ordered: “Maria, practice making some Mexican dishes over the next few days. Chloe is going to stay here for a while.” Before I could say anything, Maria couldn’t hold back. “Julian! How can you bring her here? Clara is still living here!” Julian frowned. “So what? There are plenty of rooms.” “Chloe just graduated. The house I bought her needs remodeling. She can’t just sleep on the street.” “You—” “Let her move in,” I interrupted Maria. “There are empty rooms upstairs. I’ll stay on the first floor. We won’t get in each other’s way.” Seeing how submissive I was as always, a flash of guilt crossed Julian’s eyes. “Clara, I know this is unfair to you.” “Don’t worry. I’ll definitely make her leave in six months.” “Sure.” I nodded smoothly and went into the kitchen to help Maria with dinner. Julian didn’t think much of it and immediately called his driver to pick up Chloe. That night, the three of us sat down for dinner. Seeing a table full of plain, boiled dishes, Chloe frowned deeply. “Julian, didn’t you tell the housekeeper that I like Mexican food?” “These dishes have no color, let alone flavor. How is anyone supposed to eat this?” Maria glanced over and clattered the plates in the sink on purpose. Julian patted Chloe’s head affectionately. “Just eat this for a few days. Clara has a sensitive stomach and can’t eat anything too spicy.” “I’ll have Maria cook separate meals for you later.” Chloe looked over at me. It was her first time looking at me closely. Our eyes met, and a look of “she’s nothing special” flashed across her face. She reluctantly put down her fork and pushed her plate forward. “Forget it. I won’t eat. I’ll just count it as a diet.” With that, she got up and walked over to the sofa to watch TV. Julian immediately chased after her. “How can you not eat? You’ll get a stomachache. Be good, just have a few bites.” Chloe glanced at me and crossed her arms. “She must have told the housekeeper to do this. If you didn’t want me to move in, you should have just said so.” Julian grabbed her hand and coaxed her humbly, “Clara wouldn’t do that. I just told Maria too late. It’s my fault.”

Chloe pouted. “I don’t care! That food is practically dog food. I’m not eating it!” Watching them, I felt like I was back to when Julian and I first met. Back then, because I wanted to accompany him in eating spicy food, I ended up in the ER with acute gastritis. His eyes had been red with panic. “Clara, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know your stomach was this sensitive.” “Tomorrow—tomorrow I’ll eat bland food with you!” He kept his word. For the rest of our time together, he never touched a single spicy dish. I knew he was only good to me because of Helena. So I never dared to tell him that my stomach was ruined because of the heavy drinking after my fiancé died. I didn’t dare to be spoiled and demanding like Chloe. Because I was afraid. Afraid of losing someone who looked so much like Leo. “I’ll take you out to eat,” Julian continued to coax Chloe, helping her put on her high heels and pulling her up by the hand. As he passed the dining table, he said coldly to Maria, “Starting tomorrow, everyone eats spicy food. Including Clara.” Maria was shocked. “But Clara has chronic gastritis. If she has an attack…” “A little bit won’t hurt. Gastritis isn’t some terminal illness. She won’t die from it.” He grew impatient. “It’s settled. If you can’t cook it, I’ll find a housekeeper who can.” For the next few days, every meal in the house was heavy, spicy Mexican food. Julian had eaten bland food with me for years, so his stomach wasn’t used to such greasy, spicy food either. But to accommodate Chloe, his face flushed red from the spice, yet he never complained once. Maria tried to cook separate, bland meals for me a few times, but Chloe eventually found out. Her face darkened, and she dumped my food right in front of Julian. “What is this garbage? It makes me want to throw up!” “Julian, can you tell Maria to stop making this stuff? It totally ruins my appetite.” I frowned, meeting Julian’s slightly guilty gaze. He looked away. “Maria, don’t make separate meals for Clara anymore.” “Let her eat with us. It’s no big deal.” At his words, my expression finally turned cold. “I can’t eat spicy food.” “I’ve accommodated you for so many years. Can’t you accommodate someone else for once?” The guilt in Julian’s eyes vanished instantly. His gaze turned heavy and cold. “You didn’t say anything for the past few days, and I thought you were actually being sensible. Turns out it was all an act? Now you finally can’t hide it anymore?” “Chloe is only staying here for six months. Can’t you just bear with it for six months?” Right. The anger inside me slowly dissolved. Since I was leaving soon anyway, there was nothing worth arguing about. Without saying another word, I turned to head to my bedroom. But Chloe suddenly grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Someone has to keep me company when I eat!” This was just pure harassment. I yanked my hand back. “Chloe, I am not your servant.” “Ah!” As soon as the words left my mouth, she suddenly tumbled backward. With a loud crash, her lower back slammed hard against the chair. Blood quickly stained her dress. Everyone froze. I stared in shock, my fingers tightening as I stood there, speechless. Julian’s face went pale. He rushed to help her up, his voice trembling. “Chloe! Are you okay?” “Julian… why am I bleeding? Am I… am I pregnant?” Chloe looked utterly dazed and terrified. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead as she clutched Julian’s sleeve. “What do we do…” Julian suddenly snapped his head up to look at me, his face terrifyingly dark. “You pushed her! How can you be so vicious?” “If anything happens to the baby, I’m never letting this go!” “I didn’t even use force—” “Chloe, I’m taking you to the hospital right now!” He didn’t wait for me to finish. He scooped Chloe up in his arms and ran out. The bloodstains left on the floor made my face turn pale. I had also lost a child once. In our second year together, I found out I was pregnant and started pushing for marriage. He kept making excuses. In the end, when he couldn’t stall anymore, he said coldly: “If you’re only forcing me to marry you because of this baby, then go get an abortion.”

Why? Why wasn’t Julian this frantic back then? Why could he coldly tell me to get an abortion back then? “It’s okay, Clara. Don’t… don’t cry.” Maria gently took my hand, her voice choked with tears. I mechanically reached up to wipe my face, only to realize my cheeks were already soaked with tears. “I saw it! Chloe fell on her own. It had nothing to do with you!” Maria said as she pulled out her phone to call Julian. “I’ll tell him right now!” “He won’t believe you.” I held Maria’s hand down, my voice hoarse. “We’re even. We’re completely even now.” Julian didn’t return all night. At dawn, I was still tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Thinking back to the absurd years I spent with him, I felt a deep sense of guilt toward Leo. He had given his life to protect me, and his only wish was for me to live a good life. But what was I doing? What on earth was I doing? Suddenly, my phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. I picked it up and saw a friend request on Snapchat from a girl with a cartoon avatar. After a moment of thought, I accepted. I clicked on her profile. Her pinned post was a side profile of Julian. Along with a photo of them holding hands. The caption was incredibly intimate: “Stay with me forever, okay?” It was Chloe. I didn’t message her. Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, she couldn’t help herself. “You’re Clara, right?” “Julian is with me right now. He’s not coming home tonight.” I still didn’t reply, pretending I didn’t see it. She waited for a while before finally getting to the point: “I won’t hold the baby thing against you, but on one condition: you have to give Julian up to me.” “You know his heart only belongs to Helena. Now that I look more like her than you do, you have no advantage left.” “I don’t care what others say. I’m willing to be her stand-in.” Indeed, youth is always full of reckless passion, ready to dive in headfirst. Just like how I had risked everything when I first approached Julian. “You don’t need to ask. He’s already yours.” After replying, I blocked Chloe. The sky outside was gradually brightening. Before packing my things, I called Julian. I wanted to meet him one last time to clear everything up. After last night, I had completely let go. There was no longer any need to hide anything. Once we talked, I would start my life with Arthur. But I called him several times, and he didn’t pick up once. He was doing it on purpose. I put my phone down and stopped trying. Seeing me packing my luggage systematically, Maria paced back and forth in panic. After pacing for a while, she called Julian. This time, he picked up. But his voice was extremely impatient: “If you’re calling to talk about Clara, save your breath. I don’t want to hear anything about her right now.” “Chloe is still in the hospital. I’ll settle the score with Clara once she’s recovered!” “Julian, Clara is leaving. She’s packing her bags—” “Where could she possibly go? She has no parents, no friends. Aside from the Vance house, where else can she go?” Maria, interrupted, was sweating profusely with anxiety. “She’s going to find—” “I don’t care who she finds. Chloe is awake, I’m hanging up.” With that cold remark, the call went dead. Maria frantically tried to call back, but I smiled and spoke up: “Don’t disturb him, Maria. I’m leaving.” “If you ever need anything in the future, call me anytime.” I gave her a warm hug. Maria burst into tears. She watched me leave with my luggage, reluctant to say goodbye. For the next two weeks, Julian barely contacted me. Occasionally, he would send weird texts in the middle of the night: “Clara, where did you put my white shirts?” “We’re out of toothpaste. Which brand do you usually buy?” “I’m thinking of moving. If you’re never coming back, I won’t bother telling you the new address.” … I didn’t reply to a single message. And on his end, he finally received a call from his friend who ran a wedding planning agency. “Julian, what’s going on with you and Clara?” He frowned, his tone dark. “Even you know we had a fight?” “Did she go to your agency? Is she trying to force me into marriage again?” The voice on the other end hesitated. “She did come, but not to force you. In fact, she’s getting married…” Julian laughed, his tone completely indifferent. “Getting married? To whom? Is she trying to pick some random guy off the street to make me jealous?” “I’m not falling for that.” “Oh, come on!” His friend got anxious, his voice rising: “Her groom is your uncle, Arthur Vance! The scale is huge—they booked our entire grand ballroom!”

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One year after a near-fatal car crash left me with amnesia, I got married again. I was on my way to the hospital for a prenatal checkup when a little boy suddenly blocked my path. He frowned, his tone ice-cold. “Julian told me to bring you home. Haven’t you thrown enough of a tantrum?” I found it a bit funny. I knelt down and gently patted his head. “Little boy, did you mistake me for someone else?” He slapped my hand away, looking incredibly annoyed. “Stop acting. If you stop this nonsense, I might let you tuck me in tonight.” Though I was baffled, I decided to take him home safely anyway, just to be sure. We stopped in front of a massive, ultra-luxurious mansion. Standing at the gate was a tall man with a sharp suit and a freezing expression. When he saw me, his eyes flickered, but his voice was dripping with disdain. “Vivian Miller. You finally decided to crawl back?” He grabbed my wrist, trying to drag me through the gates. I wrenched myself free with all my strength and instantly dialed my husband’s number. “Tristan! Help me! I think I’ve run into a family of psychopaths!”

Before the voice on the other end could reply, my phone was violently knocked out of my hand. It smashed onto the cobblestone driveway, shattering into pieces. Julian’s brow furrowed with suppressed rage. “Vivian, stop playing dumb.” “So what if I made you take the fall for Serena and spend three years in prison? It’s not like it killed you.” “But look at you. You jumped out of the transport van the moment you got out, and you’ve made Serena feel guilty for an entire year!” “When we go inside, you are going to apologize to her.” For some reason, a sharp, sudden pain pierced my chest. My hands trembled as I picked up the broken pieces of my phone. “You have the wrong person! I don’t even know you!” I turned to run, but Julian grabbed my wrist again, pulling me hard into his chest. He was so close I could smell his expensive cologne, but his eyes were filled with pure disgust. “Vivian, did those years in prison teach you nothing? No one is watching your little drama here.” My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. My breath caught in my throat. An inexplicable terror wrapped around me, paralyzing my vocal cords. Suddenly, another woman walked out of the mansion. She was wearing a silk lace nightgown, peeking out from behind Julian’s shoulder. “Vivian! You’re back!” “Where have you been this past year? How could you just abandon your husband and your son?” “Julian was wrong about what happened back then, but I already scolded him for you…” Julian. The name sounded incredibly familiar. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember who he was. “Don’t touch me!” I instinctively pushed her away. The woman gasped, slipping and falling hard onto the ground. “I don’t know you people! I want to go home! I want my—” Before I could finish, a sharp pain exploded on my forehead. Warm blood began to trickle down my face. The little boy, Leo, was holding a rock, glaring at me. “You evil woman! Don’t you dare hurt my mom!” Julian looked at me with a flash of worry, but he quickly swept Serena up into his arms first. But Serena broke free, her eyes red as she grabbed my hand. “Vivian, don’t blame Leo. He’s been raised by my side these past few years. He forgot that you’re his biological mother.” She dragged me into the house, pulling out some antiseptic and bandages to dress my wound. “You have no idea how desperately Julian has been searching for you…” Realizing I was trapped, I stopped fighting. I stayed silent, my eyes scanning the walls. They were covered in family vacation photos. A man, a woman, and a child. Holding hands through spring, summer, autumn, and winter. The dates on the photos ran from January to December of last year. My lips curled into a bitter smile. I pointed at the boy who was still glaring at me from the corner. “You say I’m his mother. Then who are you?” “I…” Serena blushed, her eyes darting nervously toward Julian. Julian frowned and snapped at me coldly. “Serena is Marcus’s widow. What’s with the dumb questions?” “While you were in prison, Serena was the one taking care of Leo and me. You should be thanking her.” I found it hilarious. I looked directly at Julian. “If you claim I’m your wife, let me ask you something.” “Why did I have to go to prison for her?” Julian froze, his voice suddenly rising defensively. “Serena is fragile! She couldn’t survive a day in prison! You can’t compare yourself to her!” I stood up, taking a step toward him, throwing out question after question. “Then tell me, what do I like? What’s my favorite flower? What size clothes do I wear?” Julian took a step back, his face turning pale. His lips parted, but not a single word came out. I stared into his eyes, delivering the final blow. “When is my birthday?” Julian remained silent. He clenched his fists, then suddenly roared in frustration. “Enough! Stop acting crazy!” I sneered. I raised my left hand, showing off the massive diamond ring on my ring finger. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vance. I don’t know what kind of delusion you’re suffering from, but I really don’t know you.” “I am happily married. My husband is waiting for me to come home.” “As for the physical assault and illegal detention today, my lawyer will be in touch with you very soon.”

The tube of ointment in Serena’s hand clattered to the floor. She stood up, her face filled with mock disbelief. “Vivian, what did you just say?” “No wonder you refused to come home. You cheated on Julian!” Julian’s eyes turned incredibly dark. He grabbed my wrist so hard his knuckles turned white. “Vivian Miller, who is that bastard?” “Is that why you’re pretending to have amnesia? Just to be with him?!” Like a madman, he dragged me up the stairs by my arm and threw me onto the bed. “Let’s see if that bastard left any marks on you!” “Get off me!” I screamed, swinging my hand and slapping him hard across the face. “If you touch me, my husband will destroy you…” Before I could finish, his mouth slammed onto mine, cutting off my air. Julian used one hand to tear at my clothes, his touch rough and violating. He buried his face in my neck, biting and kissing me, his voice deep and raspy. “You’ve gotten brave, Vivian.” “If you won’t let me touch you, who are you saving yourself for?” I sobbed, fighting him off, when suddenly, the man on top of me froze. His hands hadn’t found smooth, soft skin. Instead, he felt thick, jagged, crisscrossing scars all over my body. Julian’s hands began to shake. He reached out to turn on the bedside lamp. But before he could, the bedroom door was pounded violently. Serena’s delicate, weeping voice drifted in through the door. “Julian! I had another nightmare about Marcus! I dreamed he was beating me, trying to drag me to hell with him!” Julian immediately pushed himself off me. He rushed out of the room and wrapped Serena in his arms, whispering softly. “Serena, it’s not your fault.” “He was abusive. You only killed him in self-defense.” “It’s over now. Don’t be scared. I’m right here with you.” Julian’s tender whispers echoed down the hallway and into my ears. I shivered, desperately buttoning my torn clothes. When I brushed my hair back, my face was completely soaked with tears. I crawled to the door and banged on it with all my might. But even when my fingers were bloody and raw, nobody opened it. I curled up in the corner, whispering one name over and over in my heart. Tristan, please. When are you going to find me? I sat in that dark room all night. The next morning, a maid finally unlocked the door and let me out. She walked past me, completely unfazed by my state, and casually tossed a dead snake into the trash can. Julian was sitting downstairs, reading the Wall Street Journal. Seeing me walk down, he ordered casually, “Serena wants your homemade chicken broth. Go make it.” “And make sure Leo’s milk is strictly room temperature.” “Iron my suits when you’re done. The maids aren’t as neat as you.” These words felt like they were programmed into my DNA. My legs actually started moving toward the kitchen on autopilot. But the moment my hand touched the apron, I snapped out of it. I rushed back into the living room, trembling with rage. “You are kidnapping me! I am calling the police!” Julian looked up from his newspaper, letting out a cold, mocking laugh. “Vivian, what game are you playing now?” I was about to scream at him when my eyes caught a photo on the front page of the newspaper. It was Tristan, attending a high-profile charity gala last week. I pointed at the paper, my voice shaking with excitement. “That’s him! That’s my husband! If you don’t believe me, call him yourself!”

Julian narrowed his eyes, about to say something. But Serena stood on the grand spiral staircase, looking down at me with pure contempt. “Vivian, are you out of your mind?” “Everyone in New York knows Tristan Carter is completely untouchable. He doesn’t even let female business partners near him, let alone a wife.” “Besides, the Vance Group is currently in talks with the Carter Corporation for a merger. We would have heard if he got married.” I clenched my fists, desperate to argue, but a sudden, sharp pain flared in my lower abdomen. My baby… Looking at the unguarded front door, I bolted. “Vivian! Where do you think you’re going?” Serena rushed down the stairs and threw her arms around me, blocking my path. Losing all control, I bit down on her arm, hard enough to tear a piece of flesh off. She screamed in pain, collapsing to the floor and clutching her bleeding arm. “Julian! My arm… it hurts so much!” The tenderness in Julian’s eyes as he looked at her arm instantly turned into murderous rage when he looked up at me. “Vivian Miller! Have you lost your mind?!” Slap! A brutal slap landed squarely on my face. My vision went pitch black, and a loud ringing filled my ears. Before I could recover, Julian dragged me by my hair to Serena’s feet and kicked the back of my knees. “Kneel down and apologize to Serena!” “You hurt my mom! I’ll beat you to death!” Leo rushed over, slamming his heavy toy car repeatedly against my head. My freshly bandaged wound split open, and blood began to gush out again. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my mouth, struggling to crawl away. But someone kicked me hard from behind, and my stomach slammed heavily against the sharp edge of the marble stairs. A blinding, agonizing pain ripped through my body. I felt a warm, thick liquid trickling down my thighs. Looking at the pool of blood beneath me, tears finally spilled over. “My baby… Please, take me to the hospital…” I tried to stand up, but the world spun violently, and I plummeted into darkness. When I woke up again, the sharp smell of bleach and antiseptic filled my nose. Faint voices drifted over from the side of the bed. “Pregnant? Amnesia? What the hell does that mean?!” “Mr. Vance, to be precise, it is dissociative amnesia. It’s a defense mechanism her brain built to protect her from severe trauma.” The man’s voice was tight with suppressed fury. “We provided her with everything she needed! How could she get a mental illness like that?!” The doctor sighed heavily. “The patient’s body has scars from sharp weapons, blunt force trauma, and multiple healed bone fractures. These are classic signs of prolonged, severe physical abuse.” “Her body was pushed far beyond its limits. When her mind finally broke down, it chose to completely wipe out all those agonizing memories to keep her alive.” Julian fell silent for a few seconds. When he spoke again, his voice was incredibly hoarse. “I will look into this…” “But the baby in her womb cannot stay. I am not raising another man’s bastard.” I opened my eyes in sheer terror, trying to scream, but my body wouldn’t obey. They wanted to kill my baby! Several medical staff approached, slowly pushing a syringe into my IV line. Julian stood beside me, his eyes rimmed with red. Using the absolute last ounce of my strength, I grabbed the edge of his jacket. “Please… don’t…” He reached out and covered my tear-filled eyes. Slowly, I slipped back into unconsciousness. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the Vance mansion. But I was strapped to a heavy metal chair, and a strange, cold device was strapped to my head. “Vivian, you’re awake.” Serena was kneeling in front of me, a sinister, triumphant smirk on her face. “Julian told me about your little amnesia.” “But don’t worry. We’re going to help you remember everything.” Touching my flat, empty stomach, I let out a gut-wrenching scream of despair. My baby was gone. Julian’s eyes were bloodshot. He knelt down beside me, kissing the tears on my cheeks. “The specialist said that after 99 electroshock sessions, your memory will return.” “Once you remember, I will personally destroy anyone who ever hurt you.” “As for that bastard child… I won’t hold it against you anymore.” My entire body shivered violently as I shook my head in terror. “No! Please! I really don’t know you! I beg of you…” “Start the machine,” Julian ordered coldly as he stood up. The switch was flipped. A massive jolt of electricity surged through my veins like liquid fire, exploding from my fingertips straight into my vital organs. Every muscle spasm felt like my bones were being crushed into powder. I screamed, my voice cracking into a raw, bloody shriek. Blood poured from my lips. My vision went dark, leaving nothing but an endless, tearing agony. And then, the dam in my mind finally burst. Silent tears streamed down my face. I whispered hoarsely, “I remember…” I remembered all eight years of pure, suffocating hell.

The first time I met Julian, I was working part-time as a singer at a high-end lounge. He claimed it was love at first sight. He rented out the entire venue for me. The path from the lounge to my college dorm was lined with thousands of red roses he had ordered. After that day, luxury gifts began piling up at my doorstep. He appeared in my life every single day, playing the perfect, attentive gentleman. I knew the massive gap between our social statuses, so I kept my distance. Until my gambling addict father sold me to an underground human trafficking ring. Julian had stormed into that dark basement alone, taking a dozen stab wounds to save me. That night, covered in blood, he carried me out of that hellhole step by step. “Vivian, you are my entire life.” “If you die, I won’t live another day.” Because of those words, I became his wife. Until Serena and his older brother, Marcus, returned from Europe. It was only then, from a casual slip of the tongue from his friends, that I found out Serena was his first love—the one that got away. After that day, Julian changed completely. All his attention shifted to Serena. The gifts meant for me were redirected to her. Just because Serena casually mentioned she didn’t want another woman ruling the Vance household, Julian forced me to sign divorce papers. She said she wanted a child but was too afraid of the pain of labor. So, the son I nearly died giving birth to was taken from my arms and handed to her. Whenever I screamed and demanded my baby back, Julian would threaten to cut off the life support for my terminally ill mother in the hospital. To pay for my mother’s medical bills, I became Serena’s dog. I washed her feet, endured her slaps, and accepted her verbal abuse. But the one time I couldn’t take it anymore and fought back, my mother was kicked out of the hospital into a heavy rainstorm. She died of a heart attack on the street, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Desperate and heartbroken, I tried to run away with my son. But Julian caught me and forced me to take the fall for Serena’s crime. That night, I knelt in the pouring rain, begging him at his feet. “Julian, please! I can’t go to prison! What will happen to Leo if I go?!” But he only kept his umbrella tightly over Serena, shielding her from a single drop of rain. His voice was as cold as a winter blizzard. “Serena is too fragile for prison. Unlike you, you’ve always been tough.” “When you get out, we will compensate you.” On my very first day in that hellhole, inmates hired by Serena rubbed industrial bleach into my eyes. On the second day, I was pushed down the concrete stairs, breaking my arms and legs. On the third day, a group of corrupt guards let violent inmates into my cell… For three years, every single day was a living nightmare. On the day of my release, Julian sent his men to pick me up. But when I saw the faces of the men in the car—the very same men who had tortured me in prison—my mind snapped. I jumped out of the moving vehicle on the highway. I was hit by an oncoming truck, thrown over the guardrail of the bridge, and plunged into the icy river below. I slowly opened my eyes, the haze in my mind completely gone. Looking at the couple in front of me, the unfamiliarity was replaced by a deep, dark hatred that seeped into my very bones. Julian rushed forward, desperately wiping the blood from my lips. “How is it, Vivian? Do you remember now?” I glared at him, spitting out each word like venom. “I remember everything.” “You are my enemy. You murdered my mother, and you killed my baby.” Julian’s face drained of all color. He stumbled back a few steps, looking at the doctor in terror. “What’s wrong with my wife?!” Serena stepped forward, pulling out a long, horrifying syringe filled with a strange yellowish liquid. “Julian, it seems Vivian’s brain is still a bit scrambled.” “I know a back-alley clinic that deals with neuro-damage. One injection of this straight into her temple, and she’ll be perfectly obedient.” Looking at the terrifying needle, Julian hesitated. Just as he was about to speak, the maid knocked urgently on the door. “Sir! Tristan Carter is downstairs. He demands to see you immediately.” “What is he doing here?” Serena offered a sweet, reassuring smile. “He’s probably here to discuss the merger. Julian, go handle him. Leave Vivian to me.” Seeing her confident look, Julian nodded and hurried downstairs. The moment the heavy oak door shut, the sweet smile on Serena’s face vanished. She grabbed my jaw with manic force, her face twisting with pure malice. “Vivian, you miserable bitch! Why did you have to come back?!” She raised the long needle, pressing the cold tip against my temple. “I will destroy any woman who tries to take Julian from me. Go to hell!” The moment she leaned in, I gathered all my strength and kicked her hard in the stomach. I tore myself free from the leather straps and sprinted toward the door. “Tristan!”

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On the day of the hurricane, everyone at the office was allowed to go home early. I stayed behind in the empty building, waiting for my boyfriend, Justin, to pick me up because my car was in the shop. But as the wind howled louder and louder outside, Justin was still nowhere to be seen. I called him, but it went straight to voicemail. Our last text message was from an hour ago. He had sent a short, “On my way.” I couldn’t help but start worrying about him. As darkness fell, the rain outside turned into a torrential downpour. The lightbulb above my head flickered violently before dying out with a sharp pop. In the pitch black, I dialed Justin’s number again. This time, the call went through, but a familiar female voice answered: “Chloe?” I froze, caught off guard. “Where’s Justin?” “Justin is driving right now, so it’s not really convenient for him to pick up.” “Where are you guys?” “On the way to my apartment. Justin said it’s too dangerous for me to head home alone in this storm.” “Oh, by the way, he said he texted you like half an hour ago telling you to just Uber home. You’re already back, right?” Outside the window, the wind shrieked. My heart gradually turned into a block of ice. Over the past three years, Justin had showered all his care and attention on this co-worker of his, Gemma. And tonight, the very last ember of my love for him was completely snuffed out. “Yeah, I’m home.” A home that would never welcome him back again.

The girl on the other end of the line let out a visible sigh of relief. “Good to hear. We’re almost at my place too.” “But the hurricane is about to make landfall. Justin wanted me to tell you that he’ll probably have to crash at my place tonight.” “Okay,” I replied, my voice completely flat. From the background of the call, Justin’s voice drifted over. Even with the distance, I could clearly hear the tenderness in his tone. “Are you cold? Should I turn up the heater?” Gemma giggled. “Are you serious, Justin? It’s literally the middle of summer!” Right. It was summer. Yet, I felt so cold that my body wouldn’t stop shaking. The call ended. I stared down at our Snapchat thread. There was no message telling me to take an Uber. Maybe he did try to send it, but it failed due to the bad reception. Either way, it only proved one thing: after sending that message, he hadn’t bothered to check our chat even once. He didn’t use to be like this. When we first started dating in college, he was practically glued to his phone whenever he wasn’t sleeping or in class. He would text me about the most trivial things, even if a random dog barked at him on the street. He used to reply to my texts within seconds. He had said he couldn’t bear to miss a single message from me, and he wanted to be there the very second I ever needed him. Now, the person he worried about was someone else. A bitter feeling spread from the bottom of my heart. The howling wind outside felt like an invisible hand, squeezing my chest over and over again. By 6:00 PM, the hurricane made landfall. And I was trapped all alone in the office. I walked into the breakroom and shut the door tight. Then, I texted my parents, who lived in another state, to tell them I was safe. They asked: Are you with Justin? I stared at the screen for a moment before typing: Yeah. The screen went dark, and the room plunged back into shadows. It was so quiet that the only sound was the violent storm outside. Suddenly, my phone screen lit up. My heart skipped a beat. I grabbed it almost instinctively. Only to feel my chest hollow out in the next second. It was just a safety alert from the city government. The last line read: Please stay safe indoors with your family. We will get through this storm together. On Instagram, everyone was posting about how insane the hurricane was, alongside pictures of their cozy dinners. My stomach rumbled. I realized I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I rummaged through the breakroom cabinets, found a bag of stale crackers, and chewed on them while scrolling through food pictures on Instagram. Suddenly, my thumb froze. I saw Gemma’s latest post. What do I do when my co-worker is such an amazing cook? He’s totally ruining my appetite for other food. The picture showed a beautifully prepared plate of Spanish Tapas—Justin’s absolute specialty. In the corner of the frame, Justin’s hand was visible, flashing a peace sign. He had once promised me that he would never cook for any woman in his life besides his mother and me. I guess his “lifetime” was exceptionally short. I liked the post and left a comment underneath: Then you should probably make him your boyfriend. A few minutes later, a text from Justin popped up on my screen. Chloe, was that comment really necessary? Necessary? Were their actions not far more questionable than my single comment? He had opened our chat, yet he hadn’t even noticed the failed text message. He didn’t even bother to ask where I was. My fingers gripped the phone so hard they turned white. I was just about to text him back, to tell him that I never made it home and was currently trapped in the office. But then, a deafening explosion shattered the silence outside!

Terrified, I peeked through the blinds of the breakroom window. One of the massive floor-to-ceiling glass panes in the main office area had completely shattered. The wild wind rushed into the office like a monster. Debris flew in through the giant hole, slamming heavily against the breakroom door. Trembling, I dragged the breakroom couch to block the door. My mind went entirely blank. By the time I regained my senses, I had already dialed Justin’s number. It rang for nearly thirty seconds before he finally picked up. Before I could speak, Justin said impatiently: “Chloe, hold on a second, I’m kind of busy right now…” Swallowing my terror, I gasped, “Justin, I’m still at the office. The glass window shattered, and I’m so scared…” There was a long pause on the other end. “What shattered? The living room window? Just go back to the bedroom and lock the door. You’ll be fine. I’ll call someone to fix it tomorrow…” In the background, I could hear the faint sound of a video game. In the next second, Gemma cheered loudly: “Yes! I won again!” Justin chuckled, his voice dripping with affection. “Fine, fine, I lost. I’ll buy you dinner next time.” “What do you mean next time? You’re buying tomorrow!” “Sure, whatever you want…” The words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat. At that exact moment, I finally realized it. My seven-year relationship with Justin had ultimately lost to a girl he had known for three years. Three years ago, when he first mentioned Gemma to me, he sounded so annoyed. Gemma had joined the company on the same day as him, and their manager paired them up. He complained that Gemma messed up all the data sheet, forcing him to work overtime for two nights to fix it. He also complained that she accidentally spilled coffee on his favorite jacket, ruining it. For a long time, he sighed whenever Gemma’s name came up. Later, their department had a dinner party and invited me along. That was the first time I met her. She was a year younger than us, with a round face and a bit of baby fat. That night, the way Justin looked at her made me uncomfortable. Now I finally understood. That look was pure adoration. Later on, when I asked Justin to go to an art gallery with me on the weekend, he said Gemma’s laptop was broken and he needed to go over and fix it. Seeing my silence, he quickly explained that all their team files were saved on that laptop. Another time, I mentioned a new thriller movie that was getting great reviews and asked if he wanted to see it. He hesitated before saying he had already watched it with Gemma. He claimed the company had given out free tickets to their department. But I later found out that the two of them had booked seats in the far corner, away from everyone else in their team. Then, he started driving her home every time it rained. He kept track of her period and bought her warm drinks. He even memorized her food allergies and would remind the waiters beforehand… I saw all of it. One day, I finally asked him: “Justin, do you have feelings for Gemma?” He was stunned for a second, then laughed. “How could I like that clumsy girl? I’m just being a good colleague and helping her out.” Clumsy girl. What an affectionate nickname. And what he did for her had long crossed the line of “just being a good colleague.” I didn’t know when I eventually fell asleep that night. It felt like a long, exhausting nightmare. When I woke up, the sun was shining, the storm had passed, and the street below was buzzing with life again. Fortunately, my nightmare with Justin was also officially over. I went back to our shared apartment, took a shower, and changed my clothes. As I walked out of the bathroom, the front door clicked open. Justin walked in. Seeing me, he let out a sigh of relief and asked, “Are you okay after last night? What about the window…” He looked toward the living room window. It was completely intact. I said flatly, “It was just a nightmare.” He nodded, not questioning further. Seeing me grabbing my keys to head out again, he suddenly called out to me. He looked hesitant, but spoke anyway: “Chloe, about that dinner with your parents next Wednesday… can we reschedule?” I looked at him, expressionless. “Why?” He said in a sympathetic tone, “Next Wednesday is the anniversary of Gemma’s mother’s passing. Her dad is out of the country and can’t make it back. She’s going to be all alone. It’s just so sad.” My fingernails dug into my palm. I forced myself to remain calm. “This is the fourth time you’ve canceled on my parents, Justin. They already bought their flight tickets.” He cut me off, his voice tinged with annoyance. “What do you want me to do, just ignore her? We’re colleagues, Chloe.” But we are partners. I kept those words to myself. My temples throbbed from the lack of sleep. Massaging my forehead, I said indifferently, “Sure. Go ahead.” His face lit up with joy. “I knew you’d understand! Don’t worry, I promise I’ll make it up to your parents next time.” His phone rang with that familiar ringtone. He answered it quickly as he walked into the bedroom. “Chloe said yes, Gemma. I’ll be there with you next Wednesday…” Meanwhile, I pulled out my phone and texted my mom: Mom, you know how you always said Justin wasn’t the one for me, and that you wanted to introduce me to your friend’s handsome son? Let’s arrange that meeting for next Wednesday.

By the time I arrived at the office, maintenance workers were already replacing the shattered glass window. My co-workers were still shaken up. “Thank God we left early yesterday. That was terrifying.” Seeing me, one of my colleagues waved. “Hey Chloe, your boyfriend picked you up yesterday, right?” I smiled faintly. “No, he was too busy driving his female co-worker home.” The office went dead silent. Someone asked cautiously, “So… you had to Uber home in that storm?” “No, I spent the night in the breakroom.” Everyone gasped. After a long silence, a colleague gently patted my shoulder. “Chloe, you are incredibly strong.” I didn’t think there was any reason to hide it. After all, I wasn’t the one who did anything wrong. Right before clocking out, I received a text from Justin: I’m downstairs outside your office. My eyes flickered. He hadn’t picked me up from work in almost a year. Even when he did promise to pick me up, he would always cancel at the last minute because of Gemma. I walked downstairs and indeed saw his car parked by the curb. I walked over. But just as my hand was about to touch the front passenger door handle, the window rolled down, revealing Gemma’s cute face. “Hi, Chloe!” Justin spoke from the driver’s seat, “Gemma said there’s a new Mexican place nearby that’s amazing. I got us a table. Want to join?” I stared at him, my voice barely a whisper: “Justin, I can’t eat spicy food.” He froze, a flash of embarrassment crossing his face. In the end, they drove off without me. He didn’t come to pick me up. He just happened to be in the neighborhood and remembered I existed. He had even forgotten that I couldn’t eat spicy food. Yet, he used to be the guy who would meticulously pick out every single piece of chili from my plate if the chef forgot his instructions. My eyes burned, but the evening breeze quickly dried the tears. I decided to break up with Justin this weekend. But out of nowhere, he mysteriously told me that he had planned a big event for Saturday and wanted me to arrive early. I was stunned. Saturday was our seventh anniversary. So, he did remember. I didn’t care what he had planned, but I would use that day to officially end things. Justin told me to be there by 10:00 AM. But because of heavy traffic, I didn’t arrive until 10:30 AM. As I walked toward the private dining room, memories flashed through my mind. For our past anniversaries, he used to rack his brain to plan the perfect surprises. He once used candles to spell out the date we first met. He secretly learned to play the guitar just to sing a song I casually mentioned I liked. He made a scrapbook filled with every single memory of us. But starting three years ago, every single anniversary was cut short. Three years ago, Gemma fell sick. He told me we had plenty of anniversaries ahead of us, but Gemma was all alone in the hospital. Two years ago, Gemma claimed someone was stalking her. He abandoned our half-eaten cake and rushed to her apartment. Last year, Gemma got too drunk at a bar. He said he was just driving her home, but he didn’t return until the next morning. This year, I didn’t expect anything. I just wanted to finish a meal together and say what needed to be said. I pushed the door open. Confetti exploded into the air, raining down on my face. The room was packed with people, all of them unfamiliar faces. But when they saw it was me, they all froze. “Wait, that’s not Gemma.” “I thought you said you heard Gemma’s footsteps!” “Quick, clean this up! She’s gonna be here any second!” I stood there, completely lost. Until Justin pulled me aside and shoved a confetti popper into my hands. “I told you to get here early! Quick, stand here and pop this when Gemma walks in.” It took me a long moment to find my voice. The situation was so absurd I almost laughed out loud. I looked at him and asked, “What is going on here?”

His eyes remained glued to the door as he replied: “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Gemma’s project got approved, and management is promoting her.” “So, this is her promotion party.” Justin was so distracted that he didn’t notice the coldness in my voice. “You always complained that I never bring you along when I hang out with my colleagues. So, I invited you today.” “Justin, do you even know what today is?” Justin blinked at me, looking entirely clueless. I smiled, nodded slowly, and spoke clearly: “Justin, let’s break up.” “Congratulations on the promotion, Gemma!” The loud explosion of confetti and the roaring cheers drowned out my voice. Justin had already rushed to Gemma’s side, throwing an arm around her shoulder. A mocking smile touched my lips as I turned around and walked out. I pulled out my phone and saw a text my mom sent thirty minutes ago: Your dad and I just boarded the plane, Chloe. I’m so glad you’ve finally moved on. The guy my mom wanted to introduce me to happened to be in the city too. My mom said he had already agreed to have dinner with us on Wednesday. I texted back a simple “Okay” and headed straight to the airport to pick up my parents. The next day, I took my parents sightseeing. Just as we finished touring one of the local spots, my phone rang. It was Justin. He sounded frantic, demanding to know where I was. I didn’t want to deal with him, but he sounded so desperate that I eventually sent him my location. Within minutes, he arrived in a rush—and Gemma was right behind him. Seeing my parents standing behind me, he froze for a second before pulling me aside, his voice lowered in anger: “What is this, Chloe? I told you I have to be with Gemma on Wednesday. I don’t have time to have dinner with your parents.” I looked at him coldly. “If you’re busy, can’t I find someone else to join us?” Assuming I was just being petty, he ignored my comment. He pulled out his phone, opened an Instagram post, and pointed at a comment. “Chloe, did you write this?” The post featured a few photos from yesterday’s party. The first was Justin with his arm around Gemma. The second was Justin smearing cake on Gemma’s face. The third was the two of them, their heads leaning close together. It was posted on Gemma’s account with the caption: Celebrating with my favorite co-worker, such a happy day!~ Even though so many colleagues had celebrated with her, she only posted pictures of her and Justin. Her intentions couldn’t be more obvious. I let out a soft chuckle. My eyes fell on the comment he was pointing at: To be honest, this guy has a girlfriend. Below the comment was a photo of Justin and me. No wonder he thought it was me. Justin glared at me. “Gemma’s account is getting spammed with hate right now. People are calling her a home-wrecker. If this gets out, it will ruin her promotion!” “Go post a reply right now. Say you’re his girlfriend and you were there too, and that you guys are all just good friends.” “What if I say no?” Justin stunned, his expression hardening. “Chloe, you didn’t use to be so petty.” The disappointment in his eyes was palpable, as if I was the villain in this story. Yet, he was the one who crossed every boundary. Before I could speak, Gemma suddenly burst into tears. “I’m really not a home-wrecker… If our boss sees those comments, my promotion will be canceled!” My parents were standing a few yards away. They didn’t know what was happening, but they looked over with deep concern. Justin gritted his teeth. “Chloe, if you don’t fix this, I’m going to ask your parents to talk some sense into you!” He turned to walk toward them. “I’ll do it,” I called out, my voice ice-cold. I didn’t want my parents to worry about my relationship drama anymore. I opened the post and replied under the comment: I am the girlfriend. Actually, ex-girlfriend. We broke up, and whatever they do has nothing to do with me. Justin frowned slightly. “You didn’t have to say we broke up just to clear her name.” But now that the crisis was averted, his expression softened. He looked at me gratefully. “Chloe, I knew you were still the sweet girl I loved. I’ll make sure to rush over to dinner with your parents tomorrow night.” I didn’t say a word. Taking my silence as agreement, he wrapped his arm around Gemma and walked away. The next day, dinner was set for 6:00 PM. At 7:00 PM, Justin texted saying he just finished driving Gemma home and was on his way. At 8:00 PM, he texted saying Gemma had severe cramps and he had to run to the pharmacy to get her medicine, so he’d be a little late. At 9:00 PM, hurried footsteps echoed outside our private dining room. In the next second, the door burst open. Justin rushed in, holding several gift bags. “Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I am so sorry I’m late…” But when he saw the scene inside, the smile on his face instantly froze.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “444243”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I spent three years waiting for official status, but all I got from the man I loved was, “Take the blame for this first.” The moment I hit send on my resignation email, I thought what I’d lost was love. It wasn’t until I stood in the mountain wind of Los Angeles and heard someone say my name, clear as day, that I finally understood—what I truly needed to take back was never Ethan Hayes’s heart. It was the version of myself they had trampled into the mud. I left New York behind for Los Angeles. Once a project manager forced to take others’ heat, I’d grown into a respected lead planner. I’d let go of my quiet unrequited love, the undeserved mercy I’d handed out, and the mask I’d worn—the girl who could take anything. When the old lights came back on, when my name was no longer erased, I finally dared to say: some roads don’t require waiting for someone to walk with you. Walk them alone, and the sky still won’t fall. Lydia Lane pov I had just clicked send on my resignation email when Ethan Hayes called me backstage at the press conference and tried to force me to admit I was a thief. Just beyond a curtain, the room was packed with media. On the big screen, the key visual for the Titanic Ruins Restoration played on a loop. Every detail was the result of half a month of my sleepless effort. But at the very top of the list of lead creators, three words were written in bold: Nora Wells. Wrapped in a shawl, Nora Wells’s eyes were red in just the right way. “Ethan, I really didn’t know she’d written a similar proposal too. She’s been with you for so many years. I can understand her wanting to use my work to prove herself. But there are so many reporters out there. I can’t afford to be humiliated like this.” I looked at that hypocritical face, my fingers slowly clenching tight. I had once been the inconspicuous foil beside Nora Wells. After Nora went abroad, I became the woman Ethan Hayes kept hidden from the light. For three years, I drank in his place, worked overtime with him, and even let him take whatever he wanted in bed. I thought I might eventually earn official status, but on the very first day Nora returned, my hard work became an offering for her. Ethan looked at me, his tone an unquestionable order. “Lydia, take responsibility for this first.” “That proposal is mine.” My voice went cold. “I know.” Ethan frowned and said as if it were only natural, “That’s all I’m asking—just take the blame temporarily. Nora’s only just gotten back; she can’t have a plagiarism stain on her name.” “She can’t, but I can?” Nora bit her lower lip and kept arguing. “Lydia, I know you blame me. You like Ethan. You finally waited until I left, so of course you’re unwilling to accept this. But feelings aren’t something you can steal by sleeping with someone.” My face went pale. But Ethan did not refute Nora’s humiliation. He only warned me with a dark expression. “What happened between you and me was an accident to begin with. Now that she’s back, everything should go back to where it belongs.” Nora shoved an apology statement into my hand. “Lydia, just help me one last time. Aren’t you the best at enduring things?” On the paper was written: Due to my eagerness to prove myself, I referenced Ms. Nora Wells’s old draft. I stared at that line and suddenly laughed. That was right. I was far too good at enduring. So good that Ethan thought I had no backbone. So good that Nora thought I had been born to be a stepping stone. I casually threw the apology statement into the trash can beside me. “I won’t admit it.” Ethan’s eyes darkened. “Lydia Lane, stop making a scene!” “Mr. Hayes, I’m not making a scene.” I pulled the work badge from around my neck and slapped it onto the table. “My resignation email has already been sent to HR. In thirty days, I will leave Hayes Group.” Ethan’s brow twitched sharply. Nora was the first to laugh. “Resigning? Can you bear to?” I didn’t even spare her a glance. I stared into Ethan’s eyes. “Whether the press conference goes on is your business. Whether my name gets erased is also your business. But from today onward, I will not take the blame for any of you ever again.” I turned to leave, but Ethan’s hand clamped tightly around my wrist. He was like a beast whose tail had been stepped on. “You think sending one email means you can cut ties with me?” I pulled my hand back inch by inch with all my strength. My voice was dead in a way it had never been before. “I’m not cutting ties. This ends here.”

Lydia Lane pov In the end, the press conference still went on. But because of my protest, Ethan Hayes had no choice but to temporarily remove the media Q&A and only let Nora Wells go onstage to show off her “thoughts on returning to the country.” I sat in the last row and watched Nora enjoy the applause onstage, my face expressionless as I closed my laptop. If I hadn’t fought to the end tonight, I was afraid I would be the one standing onstage right now, facing everyone’s accusations. I took a deep breath. If you back down for too long, other people will only start treating your blood, sweat, and tears as something they’re entitled to. But from now on, I would never let anyone step on me to climb higher again. The moment the press conference ended, an assistant ran over, drenched in cold sweat. “Manager Lane, Mr. Hayes wants you in the lounge immediately.” When I pushed the door open, Nora was leaning against the sofa, wiping away tears. Ethan stood by the window, his face as dark as water. The moment she saw me, Nora immediately played the victim first. “Lydia, you almost ruined my press conference just now!” Ethan stubbed out his cigarette and gave an order in a charitable tone. “Organize a copy of the draft materials and send it to Nora tonight. Externally, we’ll keep the story consistent: you handled execution, and she was the lead creator. Bonuses, a promotion—any compensation you’re after, just say the word.” Compensation again. Every time he wronged me, he threw money at me, as if dismissing a beggar. “I only want my credit.” My voice was firm. Nora looked as if she’d heard a joke. “You insist on fighting me over this?” “I’m taking back what belongs to me!” Ethan’s expression sank completely to freezing point. “Lydia Lane, don’t take this too far. Nora is upset. If you lower your head, the project can continue.” “If the project can only continue by making me lower my head, then let it die.” The lounge fell into dead silence. Ethan stared at me as if he were looking at a lunatic. “For the sake of one empty title, you’re willing to abandon a project worth tens of millions for Hayes Group?” “Mr. Hayes, I’ve resigned.” I looked at him. “Hayes Group’s tens of millions are not my responsibility.” Those words were like a poisoned thorn, stabbing into Ethan’s chest and making it contract abruptly. He yanked open a drawer, threw out a check, and pushed it over. “Three million! Give the draft materials to Nora, and I’ll pretend your resignation never happened!” Beside him, Nora sneered. “Lydia, stop pretending. The only reason you stayed by Ethan’s side was for money, wasn’t it?” I walked forward and picked up that check. Ethan’s tense jaw had only just started to relax when, in the next second— Rip. In front of both of them, I tore the check in half and threw it back onto the table. “I used to like you. It’s true. I liked you in a way that had no dignity.” I looked at Ethan’s livid face, every word clear. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll have no self-respect forever.” After I finished speaking, I turned and left, my steps not faltering once. Nora cried and threw herself into Ethan’s arms, but this time, Ethan did not lower his head to comfort her. He stared fixedly at the closed door, then at the shredded check on the floor. Suddenly, his heart filled with an uncontrollable panic.

Lydia Lane pov The internal group chat was full of people mocking me. “No matter how hard a foil struggles, she’s still just a foil. The moment the first love comes back, all she can do is get lost.” I didn’t leave the group, and I didn’t explain. I was at my desk, organizing the last few handover checklists. That afternoon was the Titanic Ruins Restoration Project progress meeting. Nora sat in the main seat, with the proposal I had stayed up writing placed in front of her. She read it haltingly, stumbling whenever she reached professional terms. A partner frowned and interrupted her. “Ms. Wells, I’d like to ask, why does the entrance exhibition hall deliberately avoid the north entrance?” Nora flipped through the proposal in her hands until her face went white. Then she looked to me as if asking for help. Of course the polished public version didn’t mention it. Because beneath the north entrance was the old drainage ditch that could collapse at any moment. That was something I had discovered only after going to the muddy site three times myself. The entire conference room was waiting. With a dark expression, Ethan looked toward me in the corner and ordered, “You answer.” I snapped my notebook shut and didn’t even lift my eyes. “Sorry, Mr. Hayes. Under the current credit split, I’ve got no standing to weigh in here.” The conference room instantly became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Nora’s tears fell all at once. “Lydia, do you have to publicly embarrass me like this?” Ethan shot to his feet, suppressing towering rage. “Meeting adjourned!” Once everyone had left, Ethan locked the conference room door behind them. His voice was as cold as if it had been dipped in ice. “You enjoyed publicly embarrassing Nora today, didn’t you?” “I simply didn’t step onstage for her again.” “She just came back. There are many things she’s not familiar with yet!” “If she’s not familiar with them, then she shouldn’t be shamelessly occupying the lead creator’s name!” I refused to back down. Ethan stared at me, his teeth clenched. “You didn’t used to be this petty.” “That’s right.” I only found it absurd. “In the past, I was at your beck and call. Even after you drained me dry, I still had to smile and say it was fine. Of course you thought I was useful.” “But Ethan Hayes, the past is the past, and now is now.” “Now, I will not yield another inch! Anything that belongs to me, I won’t give away a single piece of it!” Nora suddenly pushed the door open and came in, crying tearfully fragile. “Ethan, I quit! Since she looks down on me anyway, staying here would only be humiliating!” She made as if to leave, but Ethan pulled her into his arms at once, then turned and stared hard at me. “Apologize to her! Lydia Lane, don’t make me say it a second time!” I didn’t move. Ethan roared, “Apologize!” I picked up the documents on the table and threw them directly in front of Ethan. “This is the safety hazard explanation for the north entrance. There’s no apology. I’ve given you the risk warning. You’d better take care of yourself.” I pulled open the door and strode out. Behind me came the deafening crash of Ethan smashing a teacup, followed by the sound of shattering glass. But I didn’t look back even once.

Lydia Lane pov On Friday night, Ethan Hayes brought Nora Wells to the Ruins Restoration Association’s private dinner. To keep Nora from making a fool of herself, he used an ordering tone to summon me over too, even though I had been about to get off work and pack my things. I went—not for him, but to give my own hard work one final proper ending. At North City Club, the courtyard was filled with birch trees. The moment Nora entered, she couldn’t wait to belittle me in front of the various people in charge. “This is Ethan’s assistant. She’s best at cleaning up messes. Wherever things get chaotic, just call her over, and she’ll tidy it up immediately.” A knowing chuckle broke out around the table. I lowered my eyes and remained unmoved. After a few rounds of drinks, Nora, in an effort to show off, actually described the ancient Greek artifact restoration overseen by one chairman as a commercial street renovation. The chairman’s face darkened on the spot. “Mr. Hayes, is your ruins restoration project about culture, or is it about putting on a show?” Nora panicked and looked to Ethan for help. Just as the atmosphere dropped to freezing point, I set down my teacup. I didn’t use any flowery language. In only three minutes, I clearly explained the origins of ancient Greek artifacts, the taboos involved in artifact preservation, and the spiritual core of the project. Not only did I smooth things over, I also brought out the full depth of the cultural foundation. The chairman’s expression turned from cloudy to clear, and he nodded in approval. “Now that is someone who has truly done her homework.” Nora’s face instantly flushed bright red, and she was so jealous she looked like she might go insane. Ethan had just opened his mouth to save face when two crisp claps suddenly came from the corner. It was a man in a dark gray shirt, with a refined, clean presence and the calm ease of someone in a position of power. The person in charge of Shanhai Company, Nathan Grant. His gaze passed over the crowd and landed directly on me. “The cultural substance Ms. Lane mentioned just now is something I reviewed a few days ago as well. Your judgment is very accurate. If the project followed your original proposal, it could be saved. If it follows the version currently made public—” He gave a soft laugh, not even glancing at Nora. “I’m afraid all that’s left is a pile of flashy but useless garbage.” The entire room fell dead silent. Nora’s tears spilled from her eyes. “Mr. Grant, are you saying I don’t understand anything?” “I’m talking about the proposal,” Nathan said in an extremely calm tone. “This project isn’t some trinket you can wave to cheer up your lover. Whoever poured their heart into writing it should be the one standing in the spotlight.” Those words were like a loud slap, striking Ethan and Nora hard across the face. When the private dinner ended, Nathan stopped me and handed me a business card. “After you leave Hayes Group, you can come to Shanhai Company. The pay isn’t much, but your name will be written cleanly on every piece of work you do.” For some reason, my eyes heated. I accepted the card with both hands. That scene fell into Ethan’s eyes. His gaze abruptly turned dark and hostile as he strode forward. “Since when are you two this close? You want to go to Los Angeles?” He laughed coldly. “Some lousy company is worth giving up Hayes Group for?” I carefully put the business card into my bag, then lifted my head and looked at Ethan’s stunned face. My voice was soft, but resolute. “At least there, they won’t put the name of the woman you love on work I poured my heart into.” With that, I turned and stepped into the night. Ethan froze where he stood, his expression ugly to the extreme. He suddenly realized that this time, I was truly walking forever toward the light that belonged to me.

Lydia Lane pov On the twenty-third day of my resignation countdown, Nora Wells cried at Hayes Group. The cause was an old lamp. That lamp had been donated by a descendant of a Titanic victim. Its metal frame was charred black, marked with scars left by the shipwreck. I had originally planned to place it in the starting display case of the Titanic Ruins Restoration, so visitors would know that our project was not a scene built out of thin air. It was a place where people had lived, longed, and waited. Nora disliked how old it was. She said it didn’t look good in photos and told someone to replace it with a glass lighthouse. When the workers moved it, they lost their grip. The old lamp fell to the ground, and two parts of the frame snapped. The donor, George Shaw, rushed over. Looking at that lamp, his hands trembled. “This was left to me by my grandfather.” Nora cried on the spot. “I only wanted the lamp to look prettier. I didn’t know it was this serious.” When Ethan arrived, the first person he looked at was Nora. “Were you hurt?” Nora shook her head, her tears falling even harder. “Ethan, did Lydia Lane deliberately not tell me this lamp couldn’t be moved? She knew I had just taken over and didn’t understand anything.” I stood off to the side, still holding the call records with the restoration specialist. I said, “I wrote it three times on the handover form. The old lamp is for display only. Do not move it.” Nora bit her lip. “There are so many documents. How could I possibly read every single word? You waited for me to make a mistake on purpose.” George looked at them arguing, his face blue with anger. “If Hayes Group doesn’t respect these objects, then don’t do the project at all!” Ethan frowned and turned to me. “Go explain it to George Shaw.” “Explain what?” “Say it was an oversight in your handover.” I looked at him and suddenly lost the strength to speak. I thought I could no longer hurt, but every time, Ethan could use the lightest tone to press me down even lower. “I won’t go,” I said. Ethan’s patience ran out. “Lydia Lane, when something goes wrong with a project, the person in charge should take responsibility.” “The person in charge now is Nora Wells.” Nora cried and took a step back. “Then I’ll just leave. I’m not worthy of being in charge.” Ethan immediately grabbed her, his voice softening. “No one is asking you to leave.” Then he looked at me. “You’re suspended for three days. Write an explanation for the descendants of the Titanic survivors. Once they calm down, come back and continue the handover.” I didn’t argue. I returned to my desk, printed out the suspension notice, and placed it together with my resignation email. The two documents lay side by side, like a joke. Before I got off work, HR came to ask me, “Manager Lane, your resignation is still proceeding according to the thirty-day notice, right? Mr. Hayes hasn’t rejected it, so we’ll process it according to the resignation date.” I nodded. “Thank you.” HR sighed and lowered their voice. “Have you really thought this through?” “I have.” When I carried my cardboard box out of the company, it was raining. There was no car at the entrance, and no one waiting for me. My phone rang once. It was a message from Ethan Hayes. He said, Nora was frightened today. Don’t upset her again. I looked at it for a long time, then replied with the last private message I would send him during this period. I said, Ethan Hayes, I hurt too. After the message went out, there was no reply for a long time. I put my phone back into my bag and walked into the rain. The rain struck the ribs of my umbrella in a dense patter. I didn’t take a Hayes Group car. Instead, I walked to the bus stop and squeezed in with ordinary people heading home from overtime. Beside me, an older woman carried groceries. A young man lowered his head to watch short videos. No one knew I had just been suspended, and no one cared that I had loved the wrong person. Suddenly, I felt that this kind of “not being seen” was very nice. At least here, I didn’t have to wait for Ethan Hayes to condemn me with a single word at any moment, and I didn’t have to step aside for Nora Wells’s tears. After I got back to the apartment, I dragged my suitcase out from under the bed. The first things I put inside weren’t clothes, but my diploma and a few old project notebooks. There wasn’t much I could take with me, but with those few things pressed against the bottom of the suitcase, my heart felt steady. I stopped packing the things Ethan Hayes had given me. Every single one of them felt like a reminder that when I was wronged, I could only take the money and keep my mouth shut. I didn’t want to bring any of that to Los Angeles.

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At the party, my girlfriend lost a game of Truth or Dare. Someone in the crowd jeered, daring her to list ten things she loved about my best friend, Jared. Lauren didn’t even hesitate. “He’s outgoing. Extremely handsome. In great shape. He knows exactly how to charm people.” “He’s always smiling, highly intuitive, driven, and he has incredible taste.” “Oh, and… he’s really good with his hands.” The room erupted into hoots and catcalls, with a few stray, pitying glances darting toward me. For the next round, Jared grinned, throwing the question right back at her. “So, what about Connor? What are his best qualities?” Lauren looked at me. She froze for a few seconds. Finally, she managed just one word. “Steady.” Someone laughed nervously, trying to ease the tension. “And? What else?” Lauren frowned, appearing to search her mind in earnest. But she couldn’t find a second thing to say. In that excruciating silence, a profound exhaustion settled over me. Lauren and I had been together for seven years. Our wedding was next week. Yet, after searching her mind so desperately, the only virtue she could find in me was that I was “steady”. This time, I didn’t want to be the steady one anymore. … I was about to slip out when someone slammed a hand on the table. “Don’t go yet, Connor! Last round.” “Let’s do something messy. Let’s see who has the most text exchanges on their phone.” Jared slid his phone onto the table with a lighthearted laugh. “Sure, why not? I’ve got nothing to hide.” But when the screen compiled the results, the private room fell dead silent. The contact Lauren texted the most wasn’t me. It was Jared. A couple of people let out awkward, forced chuckles. “Well… looks like Lauren and Jared have a lot to talk about.” Jared blinked, his tone breezy and effortless. “Hey, it’s not what you think. Connor is always so swamped, you know? He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Lauren gets stressed sometimes, and she just needs someone to vent to.” As he spoke, his finger accidentally—or perhaps intentionally—tapped into one of their chat threads. A message Lauren had sent him popped up on the screen. “Connor is obsessing over the wedding itinerary again.” “He’s taking this way too seriously.” Jared’s reply: “He’s just wound too tight. Unlike me—getting married should actually be fun.” Lauren: “Exactly. Talking to you is so much easier than talking to him.” My chest tightened, a slow, cold ache spreading through my ribs. Then, the screen scrolled to another thread. Lauren: “Connor is wearing that white suit again today.” “Does he actually think he looks good in white?” Jared: “Aww, don’t be mean to him.” “But yeah, it’s not really his look. A bit stiff.” Lauren: “Right? You’d look way better in it.” The room went entirely quiet. I stood frozen, a thick lump forming in my throat. A quiet, searing humiliation washed over me, making even the act of breathing feel heavy. All my quiet anticipation, the nervous excitement I felt when trying on my wedding suit… to Lauren, it was nothing more than cheap gossip to share with Jared over a laugh. Jared walked over, throwing a familiar arm around my shoulder. “Hey, Connor, don’t be mad. If she were talking to anyone else like this, I’d kick her butt for you. But I’m your best friend.” He tilted his head, giving me a look of pure innocence. “I’m just looking out for her for you. Isn’t that a good thing?” I stared at the hand resting on my shoulder. On his wrist was a watch. It looked incredibly familiar. A few days ago, Lauren had sent me a photo of it while she was away on a business trip, asking if I liked it. I had stared at that photo for a long time, my heart racing with quiet joy as I typed back: “I love it.” I thought it was a surprise she was bringing home for me. I had even planned to act surprised, to playfully ask if she’d brought me anything back. But I had waited for days, and the surprise never came. Now, it was strapped to Jared’s wrist. I slowly pulled my shoulder out of his grip. Jared’s face flushed, a look of wounded disbelief taking over. “Connor, do you seriously not even trust me?” Lauren finally creased her brow. “Connor. Everyone is just playing a game. Don’t be so sensitive.” Hearing those words, the anger drained right out of me, leaving behind only a hollow emptiness. I stood up, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m tired. I’m going home.” I made it to the door before realizing I’d left my coat on the back of the sofa. When I turned back to retrieve it, the heavy wooden door of the private room wasn’t shut completely. Through the crack, I heard a hushed voice advising her. “Lauren, are you seriously not going after him? Connor looked ghost-white.” Lauren paused for a second, her voice carrying an infuriating certainty. “He won’t actually stay mad. He’s too sensible. He just needs a night to sleep it off.” My hand froze on the brass handle. Then she added, “Jared, on the other hand, looked so uncomfortable with everyone teasing him. I need to go cheer him up.” My fingers went entirely numb against the cold metal. “Sensible.” A word that felt like a blunt knife. No blood, just a dull, agonizing sawing against my heart. I didn’t go back inside. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was our wedding coordinator. “Mr. Davis, are you sure you want to cancel the wedding? You’ve spent over six months curating this entire plan. From the floral arrangements to the lighting, the invitations to the seating cards, you hand-selected every single detail. It would be such a shame to let it all go.” I stared at the digital renderings he had sent. I remembered how, in the beginning, I had wanted a wedding filled with white camellias. But Lauren had taken one look at the design and said, “Jared says camellias look too washed out. A wedding should feel alive.” So, the camellias were replaced with red roses—Jared’s favorite. I had wanted soft, warm gold lighting. Lauren had countered, “Jared says sunset orange photographs better.” I had wanted minimalist, textured paper for the invitations. Lauren had said, “Let’s just trust Jared on this. He has incredible taste.” Only now did the truth finally settle in. The wedding I had spent half a year meticulously planning had been slowly, systematically reshaped into Jared’s dream. And I, the groom, was nothing more than a placeholder name on the invitation. The coordinator sent another text. “Are you absolutely sure you want to cancel?” I looked at the rendering of a wedding that no longer belonged to me, and a dry laugh escaped my throat. I typed back: “Yes. Cancel it. I will cover any cancellation fees.” When I got back to the apartment, I started packing. We had chosen this place together. Lauren had promised me that after a long day at work, the entryway light would always be on, a hot pot of soup would be waiting on the stove, and we would grow my beloved camellias on the balcony. It had sounded like a dream. But standing in the quiet of the living room, I realized the space was already saturated with Jared. The fridge was packed with his favorite peach seltzers. His discarded jacket lay draped over our sofa. Even the best man’s suit hanging next to mine in the closet looked more bespoke, more cared-for, than my own wedding tuxedo. I stood in the closet, staring at the two garments hanging side by side. A bitter ache swelled in my chest. The wedding hadn’t even happened yet, but Lauren had already systematically replaced me with Jared in every corner of her life. I didn’t cry. I simply retrieved my suitcase and began packing my documents, my passport, and a few essential clothes. Halfway through, the front door clicked open. Lauren was home. She was carrying a small boutique bag, her tone carrying a gentle, placating warmth. “Hey, baby. Don’t be mad anymore, okay? I was passing by the store and saw these. I remembered you saying you liked obsidian.” She opened a small velvet box to reveal a pair of obsidian cufflinks. I did love obsidian. Years ago, I had stared at a pair through a shop window for a long time, ultimately walking away because they were far too expensive for our budget back then. Lauren had squeezed my hand and laughed, promising, “When we get married, I’ll buy you an even better pair.” Now she had bought them. But she had bought cufflinks. I never wore French cuff shirts. Jared did. She wrapped her arms around me from behind. “Let’s just put tonight behind us, okay?” I stared down at the cufflinks. Before I could speak, a small slip of paper drifted out of the shopping bag. The receipt. The total on it was staggering. It was for a designer tie, priced at ten times the cost of the cufflinks. I recognized the brand instantly. Only thirty minutes ago, Jared had posted a photo on his Instagram feed. He was wearing that exact tie, a brilliant, cocky smile on his face. The caption read: “Complimentary wedding gift from a very special sponsor. Going to be the best-looking best man next week.” I stared at the receipt, and a single, hot tear spilled over my lashes, dripping onto the paper. The patience on Lauren’s face instantly evaporated. “Why are you crying again? Connor, honestly, dealing with you is so exhausting.” I froze, her words echoing in the quiet room. There was a time when my tears would panic her. She used to clumsily wipe them away, pulling me into her arms and murmuring over and over, “Connor, please don’t cry. My heart breaks when you cry.” Once, after a terrible nightmare in the middle of the night, she had driven across three neighborhoods just to buy me a bowl of hot soup to calm me down. She had said, “My Connor didn’t have anyone to comfort him when he was a kid. But from now on, every time you cry, I’ll be here to dry your tears.” Back then, she truly cared. Now, my grief was merely “exhausting.” When your tears no longer touch a person’s heart, it is time to dry them yourself. I wiped my face, my voice quiet and flat. “I’m fine.” Lauren seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. She leaned in, attempting to kiss my cheek, but I instinctively turned my face away. Her expression hardened into cold irritation. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “Whatever. Cool off.” She turned on her heel and walked into the study, slamming the door behind her. Later that night, as I was turning off the lights, the iPad on the nightstand lit up. Lauren’s messages were synced to it. I only intended to turn off the screen, but the name flashing on the display made my chest tighten with a sharp, familiar pain. It was Jared. Jared: “Did you smooth things over?” Lauren: “No. He’s getting harder and harder to deal with lately.” Jared sent a smirk emoji. Jared: “Did you make it up to him in bed tonight, then?” A few seconds passed before her reply appeared. Lauren: “Please. He turned me down.” Lauren: “Honestly, it’s fine. It’s been seven years; I don’t really feel anything for his body anymore. It’s a relief he pushed me away. Otherwise, I would have had to force myself to get intimate.” I stared at those lines. My eyes burned, but the tears had run completely dry. So even touch had become a chore she had to steel herself to perform. I shut down the iPad. I took the obsidian cufflinks, placed them back inside the boutique box, and set them on the entryway table. Beside them, I laid my wedding band. It felt like returning the remnants of a dream I had finally woken up from. Right then, my phone buzzed with a notification. My ticket was confirmed. A 3:00 AM flight to Iceland. From this moment on, whichever city I flew to, I would never again land by her side. The next morning, as I rolled my suitcase past the study, the door was slightly ajar. From inside came the sound of Lauren’s soft, amused laughter. She was on a video call. Jared, dressed in his pajamas, was leaning back against his headboard, holding a printout of our wedding vows. “Lauren, this part is way too formal,” he read aloud, chuckling. “‘Connor, thank you for seven years of companionship.’ It sounds like a corporate speech from a CEO.” Lauren laughed softly. “I’m terrible at writing that kind of stuff.” Jared rested his chin on his hand, looking at the screen. “You should write something like: You’re like springtime, you make me feel light. Isn’t that more romantic?” The line fell into a quiet, heavy silence. “That sounds more like you,” Lauren said, her voice dropping to a murmur. A beat of silence stretched through the speaker. “Are you sure you want to say that to Connor, then?” Jared asked quietly. Lauren didn’t answer immediately. After a long pause, she spoke. “It’s a wedding. It doesn’t really matter who I’m reading them to. Just pretend I’m secretly saying them to you.” Standing in the hallway, I felt something tear quietly inside my chest. For those vows, I had spent nights drafting three pages of text. Writing, revising, erasing. Removing anything that sounded too cliché, leaving only the rawest, most honest pieces of my heart. I had once asked her, “Should we write our vows together?” She had brushed it off: “There’s no need for that kind of empty performance.” It wasn’t that she found it empty. It was just that performing it with me wasn’t worth the effort. On the screen, Jared leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Come closer.” Lauren creased her brow. “What?” He didn’t answer. He simply leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against his camera lens. An absurd, lingering kiss. And Lauren didn’t pull away. She only sighed softly after a brief silence. “Jared. Don’t do that anymore. I’m getting married.” Jared lowered his eyes, his voice laced with practiced vulnerability. “I know. That’s why I wanted to be selfish one last time before you belong to someone else.” Lauren didn’t reprimand him. Her silence was a quiet permission. My fingers grew cold. If she truly felt a line had been crossed, why hadn’t she hung up immediately? Jared quickly flipped to another file on his screen—the layout for our wedding photo wall. “Do we really have to display all these old couple photos? Honestly, seeing how happy you two used to be… it hurts a little.” Lauren looked at the screen, silent for a moment. Finally, she spoke. “We can just take them down, then.” “Connor is easygoing anyway. He won’t mind.” A sudden, sharp heat pressed behind my eyes. That photo wall was the one part of the wedding I had fought to keep. Seven years of memories. The first snow we watched together. Our very first road trip, holding hands in the car. The slightly lopsided cake she had baked for my birthday. I had spent hours choosing those photographs because I believed they were the physical proof of our love. Yet, with a single complaint from Jared, Lauren discarded them without a second thought. The moments I had treasured for seven years were nothing more than an inconvenience. I suppose when you reach the absolute limit of heartbreak, you no longer feel the pain. It turns into a deep, hollow numbness. I quietly turned around, pulling my suitcase behind me. My phone lit up. It was the wedding coordinator. “Mr. Davis, Ms. Lauren just confirmed the removal of the photo wall. Additionally, the wedding vows have been modified by Mr. Jared. Are you absolutely certain you wish to cancel?” I stared at the words and let out a small, tired smile. I typed back: “Yes. Cancel it.” The chill of the early morning wind swept through the stairwell as I walked out, the wheels of my suitcase clicking softly against the concrete. Seven years of photos, erased in a single sentence by Lauren. And so, I left Lauren behind in those seven years, too. As I handed my boarding pass to the gate agent, the automated cancellation notification finally made its way to Lauren’s phone. She immediately dialed the coordinator, her voice tight and panicked. “What is the meaning of this?” The coordinator sounded more bewildered than she was. “The cancellation was requested by Mr. Davis himself. He mentioned he accepted a position in Iceland and likely won’t be returning. Ms. Lauren… did you not know?”

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Three years after I faked my own death, the Caldwell women tracked me down. I held a knife to my own throat, desperate to escape them, willing to bleed out right there on the floor. But then my seven-year-old daughter wrapped her small hands around her grandmother’s ventilator hose. Isabel stood beside her, her voice trembling but cold as ice: “Choose, Henry. Do you want to watch your mother suffocate, or do you want to come back and be the man of the Caldwell house? It’s up to you.” My hands shook with a rage so violent it nearly tore my artificial heart from my chest, but I had no choice. I dropped the knife. I signed the remarriage papers. When I crossed the threshold of that familiar mansion again, I became the model husband. I lived to appease them. When Jared—Isabel’s foster brother—was having an off day and needed her comfort, I didn’t say a word. I packed a bag, booked a hotel room, and got out of their way. Even when my stomach lining ruptured and I had to undergo emergency surgery alone, I never called her once. When our daughter, Ruby, refused to eat, whining that she only wanted the dishes her “Uncle Jared” made, I didn’t complain. I got in the car, drove to his apartment, and brought him back to live with us. Then came my birthday. Jared sat at the dining table, his eyes turning a soft, performative red as he whispered, “I envy you, Henry. You have such a loving wife, a beautiful daughter… not like me. I’ve never even received a real birthday gift in my life.” Without a second thought, I slipped the carnelian bead bracelet off my wrist and pressed it into his palm. The deep crimson beads looked strikingly bright against his skin. But Isabel’s eyes flared with sudden, raw emotion. She grabbed my wrist, her grip painful, her teeth clenched so hard her jaw shook. “Henry Ward,” she hissed. “That is the amulet I begged for on my knees. I bowed at every third step on my pilgrimage to Tibet to get that for you. It was our promise!” 1 The air in the room instantly turned to lead. Jared quickly closed his hand around the bracelet, pretending to slide it off his wrist. “I’m so sorry, Isabel. I didn’t know. I’ll give it back to Henry right now.” Beside him, Ruby’s small face tightened with anger. She glared at me and shouted, “Daddy knew exactly how important it was! He did it on purpose to make Uncle Jared feel bad! You’re a monster!” Isabel stared at me, the exhaustion in her eyes heavy enough to sink a ship. “Henry, when is this going to end?” she asked, her voice cracking. “I brought you back because I wanted us to be a family again.” Inside, I felt nothing but a hollow, absurd amusement. Years ago, if I didn’t give Jared what he wanted fast enough, I was punished. Now that I was finally playing the submissive husband, she still wasn’t satisfied. I turned, picked up the antique brooch Isabel had just gifted me for my birthday, and held it out to Jared. “Is the bracelet not enough? Here. Take this too.” Isabel’s face turned a terrifying shade of gray. With a sudden, violent sweep of her arm, she sent my birthday cake flying off the table. Vanilla frosting splattered across my shirt as the porcelain plate shattered against the hardwood floor. “Do you have to be so incredibly petty, Henry? Do you have to twist the knife every single time?” “I’m not twisting anything,” I replied softly. Isabel closed her eyes, taking a long, ragged breath to force down her fury. “I know you’re still angry about the ambulance,” she said, her voice dropping. “I know you hate me for sending Jared first.” “But he was hemorrhaging, Henry. He almost died on that gurney.” “And these past few years, I’ve been searching everywhere for a compatible heart donor for you. I don’t want a tragedy to happen again.” “Please, Henry. Stop punishing me. Can we just go back to the way we were?” I nodded, offering her a vacant, agreeable smile. Ruby slammed her hands on the table and stood up, her little chest heaving. “Mommy just apologized to you! Why are you still acting like a block of ice?” She sneered. “No wonder Grandma is the only one in this house who actually likes you.” The words were a sudden, sharp needle to my chest. I let out a soft, cold laugh. “Funny. Because except for my mother, there isn’t a single person in this room I care about either.” Isabel froze, her gaze turning completely dead. “Fine. Perfect… Since you care about nothing and love no one.” She stood up, tall and unyielding. “Starting tonight, Jared and I are sleeping in the master bedroom. You can pack your things and move down to the maid’s quarters.” I didn’t argue. I simply turned and walked toward the stairs. Behind me, Ruby clapped her hands, giggling. “Yay! I finally get to sleep with Mommy and Uncle Jared every night!” 2 Back in my room, I began to pack in silence. I opened the closet. Cashmere coats, silk ties, designer cufflinks, limited-edition watches… All the luxuries I had starved myself of during my leanest years, Isabel had bought to fill the void. The lavender diffuser on the dresser was hand-blended by her; even the heavy drapes had been changed to the forest green I loved. In the two years since she dragged me back, she had tried so hard to act like the girl who once loved me blindly. But the old Henry was dead. I could no longer be swayed by expensive toys or sweet words. I only packed the worn, simple clothes I was wearing the day she dragged me back. As I zipped the suitcase, Isabel walked in. Without a word, she grabbed my wrist and forced the carnelian bead bracelet back onto my arm. “Keep it,” she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. “And don’t you ever give away anything I buy you again.” I looked up, genuinely surprised. She had actually gone and clawed it back from Jared. Her eyes drifted down to my open suitcase, her brow furrowing deeply. “That’s all you’re taking?” “None of the rest is mine,” I said, my voice flat. “There’s no point in pretending.” The old fury flared back in her eyes. “If you despise it all so much, then none of it matters.” She turned to the hallway and shouted, “Someone get in here! Take every single thing I bought for the master of the house and burn it in the incinerator.” She glared back at me. “From now on, if you want to use a single luxury in this house, you ask Jared for permission.” My expression didn’t change. I picked up my suitcase and walked out. I was halfway down the stairs when a heavy force slammed into my back. I lost my footing and went tumbling down the wooden steps. My knees scraped raw against the polished wood, a burning heat blooming under my skin. Ruby stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at me with absolute contempt. “You haven’t changed at all! You’re just pretending to be nice so you can drive a wedge between Mommy and Uncle Jared.” She pointed a finger at me. “I’m warning you. If you ever hurt Uncle Jared again, I’ll make sure Mommy throws you out for good.” Then, she spotted the yellow protection amulet peeking out of my breast pocket. She lunged down and ripped it away. “Give that back!” I gasped, scrambling on the floor to reach her. I had knelt on a stone floor for three days and three nights to get that blessed charm for my ailing mother. Ruby waved it in my face, a cruel, triumphant smirk on her lips. “Every time you make Uncle Jared sad, I’m going to destroy something you care about. Maybe then you’ll learn to behave!” She tore the paper charm to shreds. Bright yellow fragments fluttered down like dead autumn leaves, landing on my bruised hands. Something inside me snapped. The last thread of my endurance broke. I dragged myself up, stepped forward, and slapped her hard across the face. The slap echoed through the foyer. “The biggest mistake of my life,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a cold, absolute hatred, “was giving my heart to you.” “If you love Jared so much, go ahead. Let him be your father.” Ruby clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with shock. I didn’t wait for her to cry. I picked up my suitcase, limping heavily as I made my way to the tiny, cramped staff bedroom under the stairs. I was cleaning the dirt out of my bloody knees when the door was kicked open. Isabel stormed in, her face twisted in rage. “Henry Ward, you hit a child over a—” She stopped. The sight of the dark purple bruises and raw skin covering my legs silenced her. “How did you get these?” she whispered. She sat on the edge of the narrow cot, trying to pull my leg onto her lap to bandage it. For a split second, I saw the gentle girl from our youth in her eyes. My throat grew tight, a bitter burn rising in my chest. “Henry…” Isabel leaned in, her eyes searching mine, her lips reaching for a kiss. I instinctively flinched, turning my face away. She froze. Then, her grip tightened painfully around my jaw, forcing my head back as she kissed me with a desperate, punishing violence. The taste of copper bloomed in my mouth. I stayed entirely still under her touch, my mind flashing with a thousand terrible memories. When her warm hand began to slip beneath my collar, my stomach violently rebelled. I shoved her away with everything I had, leaned over the edge of the cot, and dry-heaved onto the floor. “Henry!” Isabel’s face turned white, then red with sheer humiliation. “Am I really that repulsive to you?” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, my eyes fixed on the floor. “I’m sorry. I don’t feel well. If you want someone, go find Jared.” Tears welled in her eyes, her voice shaking with hurt. “Are you pushing me away again?” “Henry, I’ve told you a thousand times. Since you disappeared, I haven’t let another man touch me. I only look after Jared because your father begged me to on his deathbed!” I looked at her, completely detached. “I believe you. You two are perfectly innocent.” The calm in my voice drove her mad. She kicked the plastic trash can, sending it flying across the room, and slammed the door behind her. A few hours later, my phone vibrated. It was a video call from Isabel. I hesitated, then picked up. A low, ragged groan echoed from the speaker, filling the small room. On the screen, Isabel was straddled over Jared’s waist, pressing him against our wedding portrait on the master bed. Jared stared directly into the camera, a smirk playing on his lips. “Isabel… gentler…” he gasped. “Your husband is watching.” Isabel angled the camera closer to the sheets, her voice dripping with vengeful malice. “Since you insist on imagining it, Henry, I might as well make it real.” “Watch us. Watch how much Jared loves me.” “Don’t you dare hang up until we’re done.” 3 They kept the call going all night. She dragged Jared to every corner of the master suite, leaving their sweat and noise in every space we had once shared. The screen was a blur of skin and breathless whimpers that made my stomach churn with a deep, physical revulsion. It wasn’t until the first light of dawn broke through the window that she finally ended the call. My weak, artificial heart couldn’t handle the strain. A heavy, squeezing pain bloomed in my chest, making it hard to draw a full breath. I dragged myself out of bed to find my heart medication. But as soon as I poured the pills into my hand, a small figure rushed in and snatched them away, throwing them onto the floor. “Who said you could take medicine? Uncle Jared said you aren’t allowed to touch anything without his permission!” Ruby glared at me, her face contorted with anger. The pain in my chest was spreading like wildfire. I didn’t have the energy to argue. I bent down, trying to gather the scattered white pills. But before my fingers could reach them, Ruby’s foot slammed down, grinding the medicine into the dirt-covered floor. The pills dissolved into gray powder in the cracks of the wood. “Thief! Freeloader!” she screamed. “Get out of our house!” A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. The artificial heart inside me was failing, straining against the limits of its programming. I collapsed onto the floor, my vision blurring as the past rushed back to drown me. Ruby had been a sickly child, born with a failing heart. By the time we diagnosed her, there was no time left to wait on the transplant list. Without telling anyone, I went to the hospital, ran the tests, and found out I was a match. I gave her my own healthy heart and had a mechanical pump installed in my chest instead. I spent nearly a month hovering between life and death in the ICU. But the very day Ruby was allowed to leave her bed, she didn’t come to see me. She ran straight into Jared’s arms. “Uncle Jared, when are you going to marry Mommy and be my real daddy?” she had asked, her voice sweet and bright. “My actual dad is so annoying. He yells at Mommy if she drinks iced water, and he won’t let me watch TV.” “I like you so much better. You buy me burgers and take me to the theme park. Mommy and I love being with you.” I had been standing right outside the door. I heard every single word. The massive surgical scar across my chest burned like liquid fire. I swallowed the lump in my throat and stepped into the room. “Ruby, I almost died on that operating table for you. Is this how you talk about me?” Jared immediately pulled her behind him, looking up at me with soft, helpless eyes. “Henry, she’s just a little girl. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. There’s no need to raise your voice and terrify her.” With Jared protecting her, Ruby grew even bolder. She peeked out from behind his back and screamed, “I hate you! You’re always so cold and miserable! Why didn’t you just die on the table?” “Mommy is going to have Uncle Jared’s baby anyway. I’m going to have a little brother soon. We don’t need you!” The words hit me like a physical blow. My body went cold. The blood rushed to my head, and my vision went entirely black as I fell to the floor. When I woke up, Isabel was sitting by my bedside. Seeing me open my eyes, she remained silent for a long time before speaking in a quiet, detached voice. “Since you know, I won’t lie to you.” “Jared and I slept together. It was the night of your father’s funeral.” “I told you I was drunk and didn’t hear your calls. The truth is, Jared was holding me too tight. I couldn’t get away to answer.” My mind went completely blank. I remembered that night. Jared had fainted at the memorial service. I was so worried about him that I told Isabel to take him back to the hotel while I stayed behind. But as soon as the service ended, my father’s greedy relatives descended on the house, trying to seize our inheritance. To protect my mother and the family home, I fought them off until my head was bleeding. During those hours of terror, I called Isabel dozens of times. She never picked up. While I was bleeding on the floor of my childhood home, she was in a hotel bed with Jared. The betrayal ripped through me. Rage and humiliation boiled over, and I slapped her across the face, over and over. She didn’t move. She didn’t try to block the blows. She just took them, staring at the floor. But the moment I stood up to find Jared, she grabbed my wrist with a sudden, violent strength. “Henry, please!” she cried. “You’ve had everything your whole life. Parents who loved you, me to protect you… you never wanted for anything.” “But Jared has nothing! He was an orphan, living under other people’s roofs, always afraid. Can’t you just let him have this one thing?” Looking at her—so thoroughly, hopelessly blinded by her pity for him—I felt the last drop of warmth leave my body. “Let’s get a divorce, Isabel,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. 4 “No!” Isabel threw her arms around me, her tone instantly softening into desperation. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean it.” “Henry, I only love Jared like a brother. He was just scared that after your father died, we would throw him out. He put something in my drink, Henry. I swear it.” “It only happened that one time. I promise you, never again.” “Think of Ruby. She just got a new heart. Do you really want to break up her family now?” For the sake of our daughter, I hesitated. No matter how much I hated what they had done, Ruby was still the child I had raised. “I will give you one last chance,” I told her. “But you have to send Jared away, terminate the pregnancy, and cut him out of our lives forever.” Isabel hesitated for a long second, then nodded, her jaw tight. “Okay. I promise.” She deleted his number in front of me. She started coming home early every night, behaving like the gentle, attentive wife she used to be. Even Ruby became quiet and obedient. I actually allowed myself to believe that we could heal. Until Ruby’s birthday. I left work early, wanting to surprise her with tickets to the amusement park. But as I approached her bedroom door, I heard their voices. “Mommy, when can we go see Uncle Jared? I miss him so much.” Isabel’s voice was a low, hurried whisper. “Shh, be quiet. Tonight, after your dad gets home, we’ll put some sleeping medicine in his milk. Once he’s asleep, we’ll go see him.” I stood in the hallway, the cold seeping deep into my bones. That night, I drank the milk she gave me. I waited until I heard their soft footsteps leave the house, then I got up and followed them. The trail led to a luxury penthouse on the other side of town. Through the half-open door, I saw Isabel sitting comfortably on the sofa, her loose maternity dress draping over a prominent, heavy stomach. Jared was gently feeding her grapes, massaging her swollen ankles. “It’s been so hard on you, having to hide like this,” he murmured. Ruby curled up next to him, pouting. “It’s all my stupid dad’s fault. Why won’t he just let Mommy bring you home?” I pushed the door open, my teeth chattering as I spoke. “You told me you terminated the pregnancy. You told me you sent him away.” “Isabel… is there a single word that comes out of your mouth that isn’t a lie?” Isabel immediately stood up, shielding Jared with her body. “Henry, enough!” she snapped. “Jared has never tried to steal anything from you. He lives here with no name, no status, just to be near me. He’s suffered enough. Can’t you stop being so selfish?” Jared looked at me from behind her, his voice dripping with condescension. “Henry, let’s be honest. You’re older, you’re boring, and Isabel was tired of you a long time ago. Instead of letting some stranger have her, why not me?” The rage overtook me. I picked up a heavy crystal vase from the entryway and threw it at his head. Chaos erupted. In the scuffle that followed, Jared and I both tumbled over the low balcony railing, crashing onto the pavement below. In the shock of the fall, Isabel went into premature labor, losing the baby. When the sirens wailed and the paramedics arrived, they looked at our broken bodies and turned to Isabel in panic. “Ma’am, they are both in critical condition. We only have one trauma bay available in this rig. Who do we take first?” Isabel didn’t even look in my direction. “Save Jared,” she said instantly. I lay on the freezing asphalt, watching the red tail lights of the ambulance fade into the dark. With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “If I survive tonight,” I whispered into the receiver, “help me disappear.” 5 “Henry! Henry!” Isabel’s frantic voice pulled me back from the edge of the dark. She was holding me, desperately shoving a nitro tablet under my tongue. As the medicine dissolved, the tight, suffocating grip on my chest began to loosen. I opened my eyes to see Ruby standing nearby, her jaw set in a stubborn, defiant pout. Isabel turned and slapped her hard across the face. “You stupid girl! Who told you to throw away your father’s medicine?” Ruby burst into tears, wailing. Jared immediately pulled her into his arms, glaring at Isabel. “Isabel, don’t scream at her. She’s just a child. She didn’t understand what she was doing.” He pulled a piece of folded paper from his pocket and tossed it onto the bed. “I wasn’t going to show you this, but Henry is taking this act too far.” “He had a heart transplant years ago. He’s perfectly fine. This ‘weakness’ is all a show.” Isabel scanned the forged medical report, her expression hardening instantly. “You’re fully recovered?” she whispered, her voice laced with cold fury. “You’ve been faking this entire time just to make me feel guilty?” I didn’t have the strength to argue. I just stared at her, exhausted. She crumpled the paper and threw it in my face. “I wanted to give you a real birthday today. But since you’d rather lie and play the martyr, we’re leaving.” She grabbed Ruby and Jared, walking out and locking the heavy bedroom door from the outside. I lay in the dark, feeling absolutely nothing. I had no desire to join them anyway. An hour later, my phone buzzed with a notification. Ruby had posted a photo on her social media. In the picture, Isabel was leaning against Jared’s shoulder, with Ruby standing between them, all three of them smiling brightly under the sun. The caption read: The perfect family. I stared at it for a moment, then tapped the ‘like’ button. Suddenly, the phone began to ring. It was the hospital. “Mr. Ward? You need to come quickly. Your mother’s condition has taken a turn for the worse. She’s failing.” My stomach dropped. I lunged out of bed and threw myself against the door. It was locked tight. I dialed Isabel’s number. Once. Twice. Three times. It went straight to voicemail. Desperate, I ran to the window, opened it, and jumped. The impact sent a sickening crack through my right leg. Pain flared like white-hot lightning, but I didn’t stop. I dragged myself up, limping and crawling to the main road, waving down a passing cab. But by the time I reached the ICU, the room was silent. The doctor looked at me with pity. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Ward. Her heart gave out. It was a sudden, massive shock.” I fell to my knees on the cold tile, the world dissolving into gray. While packing up her few belongings, my hand brushed against something beneath her pillow. A small digital voice recorder. I pressed play. Jared’s voice filled the quiet room—soft, polite, and dripping with venom. “Mrs. Ward? I thought you should know the truth before you go. I’m not some orphan your husband adopted. I’m his son. His biological, illegitimate son.” “You spent your whole life fighting my mother, and in the end, you spent decades raising her boy. Isn’t that hilarious?” “Oh, and that family home you and Henry fought so hard to keep? Your husband signed it over to me the day I turned eighteen. Thanks for taking such good care of my inheritance.” “My mother beat you, I beat your son, and soon, I’ll have his daughter, his wife, and his wealth. You really were our lucky stars, weren’t you?” My mother had been in a vegetative state, but she could still hear. He had literally tortured her to death. A blinding, blood-red rage took over my mind. I ran from the hospital like a madman, tracking them to the amusement park. Through the crowd, I saw them laughing on the grassy lawn. I pulled the small pocket knife from my jacket and charged at Jared, wanting nothing more than to drag him down to hell with me. But before I could reach him, Isabel caught my wrist, her grip like iron. “Henry Ward! Have you lost your mind?!” The crowd immediately gathered, muttering and pointing. Ruby leaped in front of Jared, screaming at the top of her lungs, “My dad is a psycho! He’s always trying to hurt Uncle Jared!” “Uncle Jared just got better, and now he wants to kill him!” “Go away, you crazy monster! Go away!” She picked up a stone from the path and hurled it at me. Encouraged by her, the onlookers began to join in, throwing trash and shouting insults. “Get him out of here!” “Crazy bastard!” The screams and abuse washed over me like a freezing tide. I looked past the crowd, my eyes meeting Isabel’s. She was still holding Jared, looking at me with nothing but disgust. I let out a laugh—a broken, hysterical sound that tore from my throat. “Isabel Caldwell, in our next life, I pray I never meet you.” Before she could react, I turned the blade toward my own chest and drove it deep into my heart.

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During the wedding rehearsal, when the celebrant called the best man, Oliver, the groom for the third consecutive time, I was still clutching the wedding itinerary I’d stayed up until 3:00 a.m. revising for the seventh time. Victoria only offered a soft, dismissive laugh, her fingers casually reaching up to straighten the silk bowtie on Oliver’s tuxedo. “Let’s just have Oliver walk through it with me first,” she said, her voice smooth and practical. “His memory is sharper than yours, Henry. Let’s not waste everyone’s afternoon.” From the front pews, a few of her childhood friends and corporate colleagues laughed, murmuring about how striking they looked together—the brilliant Victoria Albright and the golden boy, side-by-side like they were born for it. I stood at the edge of the altar, waiting for Victoria to speak up. To correct them. Instead, she tilted her head to look down at me, her eyes carrying that familiar, quiet arrogance that usually silenced boardrooms. “Henry, be the bigger man here,” she murmured, her voice barely carrying past the first row. “We have guests here today. Don’t make a scene and turn us into a joke.” Oliver, wearing a bespoke white tuxedo identical to mine down to the Italian stitching, toyed with his cufflink, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips. “Henry, maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to stand in,” Oliver said, his voice dripping with soft contrition. “But Victoria insisted you were the most generous man she knew, that you wouldn’t mind. Besides, when we played house as kids, I was always the one waiting for her at the altar…” I didn’t answer him. I just looked down at the first page of the itinerary in my hands. Under the section marked Processional, in the slot reserved for the groom, my name had been casually struck through in gray pencil. Next to the smudge, Victoria’s elegant, precise handwriting had filled in his name instead: Oliver. In that quiet beat, the last seven years of our relationship shriveled into a grotesque punchline. I didn’t even have the energy to utter the words: This is my wedding. … I closed the folder and handed it back to the wedding coordinator standing beside me. “Run it exactly how Victoria laid it out,” I said. Victoria turned back, a look of cool satisfaction washing over her features. “I knew you’d understand,” she said, her tone softening with a patronizing warmth. “Oliver’s health has been so fragile lately, and since he’s still single, he was just curious about how a real ceremony feels. Let him have his fun. I know you’re exhausted from your night shift at the hospital anyway. Go home, get some rest, and tonight I’ll take you to that little sushi place you love downtown.” Oliver’s eyes pooled with theatrical gratitude. “Thank you, Henry. Victoria always tells me what an incredible doctor you are—so selfless, always putting everyone else’s feelings first.” “Enjoy the rehearsal,” I said softly, stepping back from the stage lights into the shadows of the empty cathedral. Victoria’s brow furrowed. Her heels clicked to a halt on the marble. “Henry, what is it now?” The irritation in her voice was a sharp edge. “It’s just a rehearsal. Do you really have to ruin the mood? If it bothers you that much, I’ll tell Oliver to step down right now.” But her feet didn’t move. In fact, her hand instinctively shifted to shield Oliver’s elbow, a protective gesture so natural she probably didn’t even realize she was doing it. “I’m not upset,” I replied, my voice flat. “The hospital called. I have a shift to cover. I’m leaving.” Before she could piece together an argument, I turned toward the heavy mahogany exit doors. Behind me, Oliver’s soft, fragile voice drifted through the vaulted hall. “Victoria, the floor is so slick here… I think I twisted my ankle…” “Oh, honey, be careful.” The clicking of Victoria’s heels hurried in the opposite direction. There was a sudden, frantic tenderness in her voice that she never used with me anymore. I pushed through the heavy glass doors of the hotel. A freezing Boston wind whipped against my neck. I pulled my coat tight and hailed an Uber. When I unlocked the door to the apartment we’d spent three years decorating, the living room smelled faintly of lavender and cardboard. On the coffee table lay the unfinished wedding favors. They were custom-made wax seal kits I’d spent weeks designing with a boutique in Back Bay. The brass stamp was supposed to bear our initials: V & H. I walked over, picked up one of the heavy brass seals, and turned it over. V & O. Victoria and Oliver. My fingernails dug into my palms, but I felt nothing but a dull, hollow absurdity. I pulled out my phone and called the boutique. “Mr. Henry. Did they arrive safely?” the owner asked warmly. “Ms. Albright’s assistant called yesterday in a panic. She said she needed a last-minute adjustment for a special set of favors for a dear friend. We had to work through the night to change the initials.” “Yes,” I said, my throat dry. “They’re here. Thank you for your hard work.” After hanging up, I sat on the edge of the sofa, staring at the polished brass V & O for a long time. She had always been this way. In her mind, as long as she handed me a signed marriage certificate at the end of the day, any private concession she made to Oliver was harmless. She thought changing a few letters on a wax stamp was just a harmless indulgence for her childhood friend, something my family would never notice. My phone buzzed. A text from Victoria. Oliver’s ankle is badly swollen. Taking him to the ER for X-rays. We’ll do sushi tomorrow. Be good. I didn’t reply. I walked into the study, pulled open the bottom drawer of my desk, and retrieved the printed confirmation for our marriage license appointment at City Hall. I tore it down the middle, then into quarters, and let the white scraps flutter into the wastebasket. Then, I opened my laptop and created a group chat with only my family and closest friends. I’m sorry to inform you all that the wedding scheduled for this Sunday has been canceled. Thank you for your understanding, and I apologize for any inconvenience. — Henry. I clicked send. Instantly, the screen lit up with a barrage of questions. I set my phone to Do Not Disturb. The electronic lock beeped at the front door. Victoria was home. She kicked off her heels in the foyer, holding a grease-stained paper bag. “Henry, I grabbed you those lamb gyros from the food truck on the corner,” she said, rubbing her temples as she set the box on the kitchen island. “Oliver wanted them because his stomach was acting up, and the line was wrapped around the block. I made sure to grab an extra order for you.” She pulled the container out, and the pungent, heavy aroma of roasted lamb immediately filled the kitchen. I stood three feet away, staring at the container. “Victoria, I don’t eat lamb,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I’m severely allergic. It triggers immediate hives, and last time, I went into anaphylactic shock. Did you forget?” Victoria’s hand froze on the button of her trench coat. She looked at the gyros, then at me, a flicker of defensiveness and irritation crossing her face. “I’ve had a million things on my mind today, Henry. It slipped my mind. Oliver said they were delicious, so I just grabbed them. If you don’t want them, I’ll throw them out. There’s no need to interrogate me like I did it on purpose.” The next morning, I walked back to the hotel’s events wing. As I approached the double doors of the grand ballroom, Oliver’s voice drifted out. “Victoria, what if we used yellow orchids for the head table? White roses look so sterile, almost like a funeral.” Inside, Victoria stood with her arms crossed, studying a floor plan. Behind her, the massive LED screens were looping our engagement photos. “Henry wants white roses,” she muttered, not looking up. Oliver immediately stepped closer, slipping his hand casually onto her waist. “But Victoria, I’m terribly allergic to rose pollen. Have you forgotten? And I’m the one bringing up the rings tomorrow. What if I have an asthma attack on stage? Henry is a grown man, surely he wouldn’t want me to suffer over a few flowers?” Victoria’s hand hovered over the blueprints. She glanced up at the screen displaying my face, then sighed. “Fine. Swap them for the yellow orchids,” she told the event coordinator. The coordinator looked uneasy. “Ms. Albright, the white roses were imported from Ecuador. Mr. Henry spent six months securing this specific batch. Changing them now means forfeiting the deposit…” “Put the fee on my corporate account,” Victoria interrupted coldly. “And let’s reconfigure the seating arrangements for the head table.” From the doorway, I watched Oliver hand a slip of paper to the coordinator. “Please put my parents in these two seats,” he said with a sweet, innocent smile. “They drove all the way from upstate, and Victoria promised them the best view. As for Henry’s parents… just put them at one of the side tables. They’re from a small town anyway; they won’t really care about formal seating etiquette.” I took a slow breath and pushed the doors open. “There’s no need to change anything.” Victoria spun around. When she saw me, her brow snapped together in an immediate scowl. “What are you doing here?” she snapped. “I told you to rest. My assistant has this covered. Why are you here making a fuss?” Oliver flinched, stepping slightly behind Victoria like a frightened child. “Henry, please don’t be mad! I just thought since there were empty seats at the head table, my parents…” “It doesn’t matter,” I said. I didn’t even look at him. I walked past them and handed a document to the coordinator. “Mr. Jenkins, please cancel the fifteen tables reserved for my guests.” The ballroom went dead silent. Mr. Jenkins froze, looking between the document in his hands and Victoria’s tightening expression. Victoria lunged forward, her hand slamming onto the paper, her manicured nail leaving a deep crease across the page. “Henry, have you lost your mind?” she hissed under her breath. “The wedding is tomorrow. If you cancel fifteen tables now, where is your family supposed to sit? You’re thirty years old—are you really going to throw a tantrum over table settings and humiliate us?” “They aren’t coming,” I said, pulling the paper from under her palm. I pulled a tissue from my pocket and casually wiped the back of my hand where her fingers had brushed mine. “They aren’t coming?” Victoria let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Fifteen tables of guests just decided not to show up? Henry, pick your battles! If this is about the flowers, I’ll buy you that sports car you looked at last month. Just stop this nonsense!” She turned back to Mr. Jenkins. “Ignore him. Proceed with the original plan. Swap the flowers to orchids, and add two seats to the head table!” I didn’t bother arguing with her. I simply slid the signed cancellation form back to Jenkins. “I paid the deposit from my personal bank account, and my signature is on the contract,” I told him. “Per the cancellation policy, refund the remaining balance to the card on file. If this isn’t processed within the hour, my hospital’s legal counsel will be here to handle it.” Jenkins wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. He looked at Victoria’s frozen, icy glare, then reluctantly picked up his pen and signed. Victoria watched him sign, her face hardening into a mask of pure, absolute cold. “Fine, Henry. Have it your way,” she sneered, stepping back with a bitter laugh. “If your family shows up tomorrow with nowhere to sit, that’s on you. Don’t expect me to save face for you.” She was entirely convinced this was just a desperate bid to make her crawl back. For seven years, no matter how much I protested her behavior, she always assumed a firm hand would bring me to my knees because of how deeply I loved her. Oliver reached out, gently tugging the sleeve of Victoria’s blazer. “Victoria, is Henry mad at me? I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked for the head table. I’ll leave…” “You’re not going anywhere,” Victoria snapped, her fingers closing tightly around his wrist. “You aren’t the one who needs to leave.” She glared at me, her eyes flashing with the cold authority of an executive delivering a final warning: “Henry, I am giving you one last chance. Withdraw the cancellation. Put the tables back. Don’t humiliate me tomorrow. You know exactly where my boundary lies.” I looked down at her hand wrapped around Oliver’s wrist, and a wave of pure nausea washed over me. “No thank you,” I said, tucking the signed copy into my coat pocket. “Carry on.” As I walked away, Victoria’s furious voice echoed through the vaulted space behind me: “Henry! If you walk out that door, don’t you dare think I’ll come crawling after you!” I didn’t look back. Outside, the autumn sun was blinding, but it held absolutely no warmth. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my department head. Dr. Weaver, is the opening for the East Africa medical relief mission still available? He replied almost immediately. It is, Henry. But pre-deployment training begins in forty-eight hours, and it’s a strict two-year commitment. Aren’t you getting married tomorrow? The wedding is off, I typed back. I’ll report to the training facility tomorrow morning. By 9:00 p.m., I was folding my last two white coats and packing them into my suitcase. The closet was mostly empty now. I’d left behind all the designer suits and luxury items Victoria had bought me over the years—expensive, ill-fitting armor meant to make me look presentable at her corporate galas. The front door beeped, and Victoria walked into the bedroom. She froze at the sight of the suitcase on the floor. “What is this?” her voice rose, her eyes scanning the bare closet. “Henry, when is this tantrum going to end? First you cancel the reception, and now you’re playing the runaway? This little act was old yesterday.” I zipped the suitcase and wheeled it to the corner. “I’m just clearing out the things I don’t need.” Victoria stared at me, a flicker of unease finally breaking through her irritation. She stepped closer, reaching up to squeeze the back of my neck in that familiar, placating gesture of hers. “Look,” she said, her voice dropping into a softer, patronizing tone. “I lost my temper this afternoon. I should have considered your feelings. I already called the manager back. Your parents can have the head table, and I told them to use the white roses. Are we good now?” It was her signature move: a slap followed by a hollow peace offering. Three years ago, I would have been so incredibly grateful for the crumb of affection. But this time, I stepped back, letting her hand fall through empty air. “Victoria, my parents aren’t coming,” I said plainly. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” The softness vanished, her eyes hardening again. “I’ve already compromised. What else do you want from me? Do you expect me to completely banish Oliver from my life? You know how fragile his mental health is. I’m not leaving him to sit alone in a corner tomorrow.” I looked away. “Do whatever you want.” Right then, her phone lit up. Oliver was flashing on the screen. She shot me a quick look before picking up, her voice softening instantly. “What’s wrong?” Oliver’s panicked voice spilled from the receiver, loud enough for me to hear. “Victoria… the rings are gone. I had them in my bag, but they’re not there! I’m so sorry… if we don’t have them tomorrow, you’re going to hate me, aren’t you?” Victoria’s face went pale. “Don’t panic, honey. Where are you? I’m coming to help you look.” She hung up and grabbed her car keys. “Oliver lost the rings. I have to go help him search.” “Get some sleep,” she added hurriedly as she rushed toward the door. “The stylist will be here at seven sharp. Don’t be late.” She didn’t even stop to explain why our wedding bands were in another man’s bag in the first place. The door slammed shut. The silence returned. I logged into the hospital portal on my phone. Under Emergency Contact, I stared at Victoria’s name. I had entered it there seven years ago, on my first day of residency. With a single tap, I cleared her name and phone number, replacing them with Dr. Weaver’s details. I used to think she was my anchor. Now, I realized I’d just been chained to a sinking ship. A text from her came through: The rings might have slipped out near the hotel. I’m going to the precinct with Oliver to check the street cameras. It might take all night. Don’t overthink it, get some sleep. I stared at the screen and let out a dry laugh. I unpinned her contact and muted her thread. After tomorrow, she would have all the time in the world to search for whatever she wanted. At 6:00 a.m., the sky was a pale, icy blue. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the foyer, dressed not in a tailored tuxedo, but in a simple black windbreaker and jeans. I looked exactly like the twenty-three-year-old Henry who had graduated from medical school seven years ago. I took the spare keys and the keycard to the apartment. Victoria had bought this place with cash, promising it would be our home. But for the past three years, I had been little more than an on-call housekeeper. I slid the keys and keycard into a plain manila envelope, along with the wrinkled wedding itinerary with my name crossed out. I left it on the console table by the door. I took one last look at the apartment, stepped out, and let the lock click shut behind me. By 7:30 a.m., I arrived at the specialized training facility outside the city. The shuttle buses were lined up on the tarmac. Dr. Caroline Foster, the chief medical officer and team lead, walked over to help me with my bags. She was dressed in crisp, black tactical gear, her eyes sharp but warm. “Henry, are you absolutely sure about this?” she asked. “Two years in East Africa is no joke. The conditions are grueling, and the medical risks are real. And wasn’t your wedding scheduled for today? I can’t imagine your fiancée letting you go without a fight.” “I’m sure,” I replied, hoisting my suitcase into the bay. My voice was as steady as if I were discussing a routine chart. “The wedding is off.” Caroline paused, studying my face for a moment before nodding respectfully. “Understood. Go grab your training gear. Welcome to the team, Dr. Henry.” At 8:00 a.m., the overhead speakers chimed, instructing all personnel to surrender their personal communication devices. The training period was strictly closed-door. I handed my phone to the coordinator at the desk. “Just a reminder, Dr. Henry,” she said as she logged it. “Once this is turned in, there is no outside contact for the next three months, barring extreme family emergencies.” “I know,” I said, signing the non-disclosure and deployment agreement without a second thought.

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On my wedding day, the bride didn’t show up. Instead, a gig courier in a high-vis jacket walked down the aisle. “Mr. Mitch, hello. I’m here on behalf of Rebecca. She hired me to stand in for her and complete the ceremony.” The crowded chapel went dead silent. I stood there, wearing the custom tuxedo Rebecca had personally picked out for me, my fingers slowly crushing the bridal bouquet in my hand until the stems snapped. Only last night, she had stayed up until dawn, meticulously choosing the tie that would suit me best. “Connor,” she had whispered, her arms wrapped around my neck. “No matter how long that aisle is tomorrow, I’ll be right beside you to walk it to the end.” Sitting in the front row, my grandmother, whose eyesight had been failing for years, heard the commotion. She smiled warmly and reached her trembling hand out toward the altar. “Rebecca? Come here, sweetheart. Let Grandma hold your hand. After today, you’re officially my granddaughter.” The courier took a half-step back, her face turning bright red under the gaze of a hundred guests. Then, she pulled a folded sheet of paper from her pocket. I stared at the printed lines, a sudden numbness creeping into my fingertips. Right then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Zach had posted an update on his private social media story—visible only to me. In the photo, Rebecca was wearing her custom-tailored wedding gown, smiling brightly as she wheeled a suitcase down a hallway ahead of him. His caption read: She said a wedding can always be rescheduled, but I only have today. From the front row, Gran’s quiet, fragile voice drifted up to me again. “Connor, why isn’t Rebecca coming over?” I tossed the mangled bouquet onto the altar. Without looking at the crowd, I handed the courier’s instruction sheet to the technician booth and had them project it onto the giant screens for every guest to see. “Gran,” I said, my voice echoing through the speakers. “She outsourced her own wedding. We don’t want a woman like that in our family.” … The text on the screens was magnified until every single word was agonizingly clear. Bride’s Entrance: Hired courier will walk the aisle in her stead. The Vows: Nod when prompted by the officiant; no verbal response required. Exchange of Rings: If the groom is emotionally stable, the courier may slip the ring onto his finger. If he is unstable, simply hand the ring box to the officiant. Note: Connor’s grandmother has severe vision impairment. If she mistakes the courier for the bride, there is no need to correct her. The color drained from the faces of the relatives in the front rows. Whispers broke out, turning into a low, angry hum. “Is this some kind of joke?” “Where the hell is the bride? She actually hired a delivery driver to stand in for her wedding?” “This is incredibly disrespectful to the Mitch family.” Rebecca’s mother, Mrs. Christian, was the first to snap out of the shock. Clutching her designer gown, she rushed up the steps of the altar. “Turn that off!” she hissed, glaring at the technician booth before turning her venom on me. “Connor, do you have to humiliate both of our families today?” I took a step back, keeping my distance. “Mrs. Christian, I didn’t humiliate anyone. Your daughter is the one who outsourced her wedding.” Her face flushed an ugly purple, and she lowered her voice to a threatening whisper. “Don’t forget who is sitting out there. Half of these guests are our business partners. Rebecca just had a temporary emergency. What do you gain by blowing this out of proportion?” I ignored her and looked at the terrified courier. “What else did Rebecca give you?” Fumbling with her pockets, the courier hastily produced a small black velvet box. Inside were two wedding bands. The groom’s ring was the one I had picked out myself, carrying it in my pocket for weeks. The courier’s voice shrank to a squeak. “Ms. Christian said… she said if you didn’t make a scene, I should just hand these to the priest. She told me I didn’t even have to touch your hand. I could just slide the box over.” Another wave of outrage rippled through the pews. Hearing this, Gran struggled to stand up. Because she rose too quickly, her balance gave way, and her fragile frame swayed. I rushed over and caught her before she could fall. “Connor,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Is she really not here?” My throat felt like it was coated in sand. “No, Gran. She sent a stranger to take her place.” Gran went quiet for a long, heavy moment. Today, she was wearing a vintage burgundy silk dress. It was the same dress she had worn to her own wedding decades ago. The waist was far too tight now, so she had stayed up until midnight, painstakingly altering the seams by hand under a dim lamp. Before we left for the chapel, she had been practicing her blessing in her room, whispering to herself. “Rebecca, my Connor has a stubborn streak, but he has a good heart. Please be patient with him.” Then she had looked up at me, asking softly, “Connor, do you think that sounds okay? I don’t want to embarrass you in front of her family.” I had held her hands and told her she was perfect. “That’s good,” she had smiled, her face wrinkling with warmth. “I wanted to wear something festive. I can’t let my boy down.” Now, Gran slowly reached up to her chest, unpinned her red rose corsage, and crushed it in her palm. Mrs. Christian was still trying to salvage the situation. She turned to the wedding planner. “What are you standing there for? Keep the music playing! The bride’s representative is here. We are continuing the ceremony!” She glared at me. “Connor, I’m giving you one last chance. When Rebecca gets back, you can throw whatever tantrum you want. But if you drag our family through the mud today, don’t expect her to ever walk down an aisle for you again.” I picked up the microphone from the altar. “To all our guests,” I said. “As you can see, the bride isn’t here today. She arranged for a courier to walk the aisle, nod to the vows, and exchange the rings. She even planned for all of us to lie to my grandmother.” I paused, looking out over the crowd. “The wedding is officially canceled. Every single registry gift and cash donation will be returned to you by the end of the day.” Mrs. Christian screamed, “Connor!” I didn’t give her another look. I plugged my phone into the AV system and projected Zach’s Instagram story onto the massive screens behind us. The white wedding car, the flowing lace of Rebecca’s gown, her radiant smile. And the caption: She said a wedding can always be rescheduled, but I only have today. “As for Rebecca,” I said, my voice steady and cold. “I’m done.” As I guided Gran toward the exit, my phone began to vibrate. It was Rebecca. I tapped the screen and put it on speakerphone. Her voice filled the quiet space—calm, sweet, and laced with a hint of exasperation. “Con, what’s going on? The coordinator just called and said you’re refusing to go through with the ceremony.” She spoke with such easy nonchalance, as if she hadn’t just abandoned her own wedding. As if I were merely a toddler throwing a fit over nothing. “Rebecca,” I said, “do you even know what you wrote on the instructions you gave that courier?” I heard her sigh softly on the other end. “I knew you’d be upset when you saw it. But I did it to keep things moving. You get so anxious in front of crowds, Con. I didn’t want you standing up there looking foolish and alone.” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “So you wanted our entire family to lie to my grandmother?” The line went quiet for a second. When she spoke again, her tone was softer, patronizing. “Con, let’s not make a big deal out of this. Gran’s eyes are so bad anyway, she wouldn’t have even noticed. Just cooperate with me, okay? Your tie is probably crooked, and it’s going to ruin the photos. You know how much I love you in that tuxedo. When I get back, we’ll take our own private photos.” “Where are you right now, Rebecca?” I asked slowly. There was a brief hesitation. “I’m with Zach. His landlord evicted him, and all his things were thrown onto the sidewalk. I couldn’t just leave him sitting out there in the cold.” I looked down at Gran, whose head was bowed. “So you left my grandmother to cry at our wedding instead?” Suddenly, Zach’s voice drifted through the receiver. “Rebecca, am I causing trouble again? You should go back. I’ll be fine on my own.” Rebecca’s voice instantly dropped, muffled as she spoke to him. “Don’t touch that box, Zach, it’s too heavy. Just wait for me.” Then she turned her attention back to me. “Con, a wedding is just a piece of paper and a party. You’re the one I chose to spend my life with. You’ve always been the sensible one. You wouldn’t want to embarrass both our families over something this trivial, right?” At that moment, the truth finally sank in. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how much this would hurt me. She knew. She just knew I would endure it. Because I was sensible. Because I loved her. She was handing me a blade, expecting me to press it into my own chest and smile through the bleeding. Gran suddenly reached up and took my hand. Her voice was quiet, but it carried perfectly through the silent hall. “You don’t let a stranger stand in for your wedding.” I squeezed her hand. “You don’t need to come back, Rebecca,” I said into the phone. “I’m not marrying you.” Her breathing finally hitched. “Connor, calm down. Don’t throw our future away over a tantrum.” I smiled, though there was no warmth in it. “You outsourced our wedding. I’m just cutting my losses on the marriage.” Before she could speak, I hung up. In front of Mrs. Christian and all the remaining guests, I blocked her number. As we walked toward the exit, the hotel manager caught up to us, looking highly uncomfortable as he held an invoice. “Mr. Mitch, I understand the wedding is canceled. But the remaining balance for the venue and catering must be settled today.” Before I could speak, Gran stepped forward. She reached into her coat and pulled out a faded red cloth purse. The edges were worn, mended with thick, uneven thread. I recognized it immediately. It was where she kept her life savings. Inside, there was supposed to be the welcoming cash gift for Rebecca, along with a pair of handmade red silk pillowcases she had spent weeks sewing for us. Because of her failing eyesight, she had worked on them day and night, tearing out the stitches and restarting whenever they went crooked. “Con,” she had told me when she finished them, “newlyweds need to sleep peacefully. These stitches carry my blessings for a long, happy life.” Now, she bypassed all of that and handed her debit card to the manager. “How much do we owe?” “Gran, no,” I said, trying to push her hand back. “I’ve got this.” She patted the back of my hand gently. “Connor. Money can always be earned back. But if you enter a family on your knees, you’ll spend the rest of your life unable to stand up straight.” The manager looked at her with pity. “Ma’am, the balance is quite high.” Gran nodded. “Run the card. My grandson doesn’t owe them a single dime.” Her hand shook violently as she pressed her fingers against the keypad to enter her PIN. She got it wrong the first time. And the second. Frantic, she apologized to the manager. “I’m so sorry. My eyes are failing me, and my fingers are clumsy. Please, don’t hold it against my Connor.” Watching her, a tight knot formed in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Just then, Mrs. Christian marched over. She snatched a red velvet jewelry box from her bag and threw it violently at my feet. The box burst open on the marble floor. “Since you’re calling off the wedding, give us back our family heirlooms,” Mrs. Christian spat. “Don’t act all high and mighty while holding onto our gold. Did you really think you deserved to be part of our family?” Gran instinctively bent down. Because of her poor vision, she thought something of value had dropped and wanted to help retrieve it. Before I could stop her, her palm pressed directly onto a shard of glass from the shattered box. Blood immediately began to pool on the floor. “Gran!” I gasped, dropping to my knees. Gran’s face went white with pain, but her first instinct was to pull her hand into her sleeve, trying to hide the wound. “Don’t let it drip, Con,” she whispered. “The hotel’s carpet looks expensive.” In that second, a blinding fury roared to life in my chest. Mrs. Christian scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, please. What a cheap performance. The Christian family gold isn’t something just anyone can touch.” I stood up, stepped forward, and slapped her hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed off the high ceilings of the lobby. Everyone froze. Mrs. Christian clutched her cheek, staring at me in absolute disbelief. “You… you dared to hit me?” I reached down, tore off the heavy heirloom gold bracelet from my wrist—the one she had insisted I wear as her future son-in-law—and hurled it straight at her chest. “Take your gold and get the hell out of my sight,” I snarled, my voice shaking with a rage I had never felt before. “If anything happens to my grandmother, your family won’t have enough money to pay for it.” In the sterile corridor of the hospital, I was still wearing my wedding tuxedo. Gran sat on a plastic chair outside the exam room, her palm bound in white gauze after receiving five stitches. I knelt in front of her, unable to look her in the eye. “Gran, I’m so sorry. I brought this on us. I chose the wrong person.” Gran reached out with her uninjured hand and gently stroked my hair. “Connor, don’t you dare apologize. Walking away today was the best thing you’ve ever done. My eyes might be failing, but today, I saw everything clearly.” That night, I spent hours returning every single registry gift and donation. By 1:00 AM, I finally unlocked the door to the apartment we were supposed to share. The entry code was still my birthday. I stood in the entryway, unable to take a step further. The living room was crowded with pink cardboard boxes, each one bearing Zach’s name in bold marker. His expensive sneakers were lined up on the top shelf of our shoe rack. His cologne sat dead center on my writing desk. In the master bedroom, his discarded jacket was draped carelessly over the headboard. The vibrant red silk bedding I had spent hours preparing for our wedding night had been ripped off the mattress and tossed into the dirty laundry hamper on the balcony like a piece of trash. My phone buzzed in my hand. It was a notification from our mutual friend group chat—the one containing me, Rebecca, Zach, and a dozen of our college friends. Zach had posted a short video. In the video, he was sitting on our new bed, wearing the spare wedding tie I had left hanging in the closet. He smiled warmly at the camera. “Finally moved into the new home she built for me,” he said. From off-camera, Rebecca’s voice filtered in, soft and slightly scolding. “Stop playing around, Zach. Connor will mind.” Zach leaned back, flashing a boyish grin. “But he’s always so sensible. You said yourself, he’ll get used to it.” The video went silent for a second. Then, Rebecca murmured softly, “Just don’t push him too hard.” A second later, the video was retracted from the chat. But it was too late. I had already downloaded and saved it to my drive. My phone lit up again. It was a private message from my best man, Will. Con, are you okay? I stared at the screen, and a sudden, quiet laughter spilled from my lips. It turned out I wasn’t even the first groom to sleep in my own wedding bed. I walked into the walk-in closet, dragged out my suitcase, and packed only my essential documents, a few changes of clothes, and the handmade red pillowcases Gran had sewed for us. When I stripped off the tuxedo, I stood in front of the mirror for a long time. Then, I hung it up neatly right in the center of the closet. I placed the wedding ring boxes on the nightstand, beside a simple note: Rebecca, we are done. The next morning, Rebecca returned to the apartment. She was still wearing her wedding dress, though the hem of the white lace was stained with grey dust from Zach’s moving boxes. Zach hovered behind her, his voice small and hesitant. “Rebecca, do you think Connor is still mad?” Rebecca offered a tired, dismissive chuckle. “His heart is too soft, Zach. No matter how bad the fight was last night, he just needs to sleep it off. I’ll buy him a nice dinner and he’ll be fine.” She pushed open the bedroom door. The smile froze on her face. The closet was half-empty. My clothes, my books, my documents—all gone. Only the wedding tuxedo hung in the center, looking like a ghost. On the nightstand sat the rings, the house keys, and my note. Zach’s face paled. “Maybe… maybe he’s just trying to scare you…” Before he could finish, Rebecca’s phone rang. It was the hotel manager. She answered it, trying to keep her voice steady. “The wedding balance. Contact my assistant, she’ll handle the payment.” The line was quiet for a second. “Ms. Christian, the balance was fully settled by Mr. Mitch last night. However, he left a message for us to convey to you.”

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Ever since my father-in-law moved into my house, I’ve been afraid to even open my own refrigerator. He had taped a note onto the crisper drawer where the Bing cherries were kept: Bought by Dad. For daughter only. Others, buy your own. Until last week, when my four-year-old son, Max, reached in and took one. My father-in-law slapped the back of his tiny hand so hard the cherry flew out of his grip and rolled across the hardwood floor. “Just like your father,” he sneered. “Always looking for a free handout.” Then he turned to my wife and said, “While you’re still young, you need to have a daughter. Send this boy to his father’s parents. Let them raise him.” And my wife? She just hummed in agreement. A quiet, dismissive, “Mmhmm.” That was it. I knelt down, picked up the cherry, wiped the dust off, and popped it into my son’s mouth. Then I walked over to the fridge, ripped down my father-in-law’s note, and taped a new one in its place. It read: This refrigerator, along with this entire property, belongs to Darren. Anyone not listed on the deed must vacate within three days. … “Darren, what the hell is wrong with you? Take this ridiculous note down right now!” Rae slammed the bedroom door open. She was clutching the note I had taped to the fridge the night before, her knuckles white. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, bending down to pull a pair of dinosaur socks onto Max’s tiny feet. At the sound of her voice, Max’s small shoulders flinched. He instinctively tried to tuck his hand—the one with the red, swollen bruise on the back of it—behind his back. I reached out, gently pressing his shoulder to keep him steady, trying to offer what little comfort I could. Only then did I look up, my gaze cool as I met my wife’s furious eyes. Rae marched across the room in three sharp strides and slapped the crumpled paper onto my dresser. “Do you have any idea how upset my father is? He couldn’t even eat breakfast!” “His blood pressure is already sky-high, and you’re in here trying to tear this family apart!” I stood up, stepping deliberately between her and my son. “Whether he eats breakfast or starves is none of my concern.” Rae stared at me, her mouth slightly open in disbelief. “Darren, listen to yourself. When did you become so utterly unreasonable?” “It was a single cherry! My dad was just teaching him a lesson. You don’t take things that don’t belong to you!” “And you? You write a note telling him to pack up and leave in three days?” “Are you trying to humiliate him? Or are you trying to humiliate me?” Her voice rose, turning shrill. My voice remained perfectly level. “This house is solely in my name. I paid the down payment, and I’ve paid every single mortgage payment. If I want someone out of my house, I don’t need your permission.” Rae froze, her voice cracking as anger hid her sudden embarrassment. “You… don’t you dare hold this house over my head! We’re married! What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine. It is a daughter’s duty to take care of her father!” “Go to the living room and apologize to him right now, and we can forget this ever happened.” I didn’t answer her. Instead, I turned to the closet, pulled out Max’s small winter coat, and carefully zipped him into it. “Daddy, is Grandpa going to hit me again?” Max whispered, tugging weakly at my sleeve. I knelt down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I promise you, buddy. No one is ever going to hurt you again.” I took his small hand in mine, brushed past Rae, and walked out. Rae grabbed my arm, her nails digging in. “Darren! Are you listening to me?” “If you walk out that door today, don’t bother coming back tonight!” I stopped and turned my head slowly to look at her. “Rae.” I said her name quietly. “You have two and a half days left.” She blinked, caught off guard. “What?” “The deadline on that note. Two and a half days.” I peeled her fingers off my arm, one by one. “When the clock runs out, if he’s still here, I will personally throw his things onto the curb.” With that, I walked out of the bedroom, leading my son. In the living room, my father-in-law, Richard, was sprawled on the sofa, cracking sunflower seeds and spitting the shells onto the hardwood floor. When he saw me, he rolled his eyes and practically screamed toward the back of the house. “Oh, Rae! Come look at this wonderful husband of yours!” “He hasn’t even made a name for himself, and he’s already throwing me out!” “What a miserable life I have! I raised you with my own sweat and blood, and now I don’t even have a corner to lay my head!” He wailed dramatically, though his shifty eyes kept darting to see my reaction. Rae stormed out of the bedroom, her face pale with frustration. “Dad, stop crying. He’s just throwing a tantrum. He won’t actually kick you out.” She glared at me. “Darren, if you dare go to work today, we’re getting a divorce!” I reached the entryway and slipped on my shoes. I opened the door. “Fine,” I said, without looking back. “See you at the courthouse tomorrow morning.” The door clicked shut behind us. After dropping Max off at his preschool, I didn’t head to the office. Instead, I pulled into the parking lot of a quiet coffee shop I frequent, took a seat by the window, and ordered a black coffee. When I unlocked my phone, my screen was flooded with notifications. Rae had sent over a dozen voice messages. I tapped the speech-to-text option, and the screen filled with defensive, angry text. Are you losing your mind, Darren? You want a divorce over a single cherry? My dad is an old man. Can’t you just show some respect for once? I’ll buy a whole carton of cherries tonight for you and Max. Just come home. I stared at the promise of a carton of cherries and let out a cold, humorless laugh. That was always Rae’s logic. She genuinely believed that throwing a little material comfort at a problem could erase the terror my son felt, or the years of humiliation I had endured. But the cherries were never the point. What broke me was the cold, indifferent “Mmhmm” she uttered while our son’s hand was being struck. That single sound had severed the last remaining thread of our marriage. I swiped out of messages and opened our smart home security app. When I bought the house, I had installed a camera in the living room to keep an eye on Max when he was playing. The feed buffered for a few seconds before the room appeared in sharp high-definition. Rae had already left for work. Richard was home alone, humming a cheerful, off-key tune as he wandered around the living room with a pair of heavy kitchen shears in his hand. He stepped out onto the balcony, his eyes settling on the potted orchid I had kept alive for four years. I had bought that rare orchid to celebrate the day Max was born. Richard sneered, raised the shears, and snipped off every single blooming bud. “Pointless weed,” he muttered, tossing the delicate white petals into the trash can. “Taking up space where my granddaughter’s toys should go.” Then, he walked into the master bedroom. The camera couldn’t see inside the bedroom, but the audio was crystal clear. I heard drawers being violently yanked open and slammed shut, followed by the heavy, hollow sound of glass bottles hitting the bottom of a wastebasket. “Buying all this expensive skincare… spending my daughter’s hard-earned money!” Richard grumbled. “Once we get rid of that useless boy, I’ll make sure Rae finds a real man who can give her a proper daughter.” His venomous muttering spilled out of my phone’s speaker. I watched the screen, my face entirely numb. I downloaded the footage, merged it with the recording of him striking Max from the night before, and backed it up to my secure cloud storage. Then, I called my old college friend, Matt, who was now a senior partner at a divorce law firm. “Hey, Matt. It’s Darren.” “Yeah. I’ve made up my mind. I need a divorce.” Half an hour later, I was sitting in Matt’s high-rise office. I slid a folder across his mahogany desk. Inside was a copy of the deed, the pre-marital purchase agreement, and four years of bank statements. Matt adjusted his glasses, scanning the documents. “You bought this property in full before the marriage. There’s no dispute here—it’s solely your personal asset.” “But what if she claims she contributed to the mortgage after you got married?” Matt asked, looking up. I pointed to the stack of bank statements. “There is no mortgage. I paid the full amount upfront to save on interest.” “As for our living expenses over the last four years, every single utility bill, grocery run, and repair came directly out of my checking account.” “Rae’s paychecks? The day after she gets paid, her entire salary is transferred straight into her father’s bank account.” Matt paused, his fingers resting on the paper. He looked at me, a flicker of genuine pity in his eyes. “So you’re telling me that for four years, she lived rent-free in your home and didn’t contribute a single dime to your lives?” “It gets worse.” I unlocked my phone and slid it over, playing the security footage. “She enabled her father’s physical abuse of my son, and they’ve openly discussed abandoning him.” As the video played, Matt’s expression hardened. “This is crucial evidence. It’s more than enough to secure you sole custody and ensure she leaves with absolutely nothing.” Matt closed the folder with a heavy thud. “But Darren, prepare yourself. Women who are used to treating their husbands like a personal piggy bank don’t react well when the card gets declined. She’s going to get ugly.” I took a slow sip of my water. “I don’t care how ugly she gets.” “I just want her out of my life.” I pulled a draft of a divorce agreement from my bag—one I had quietly prepared weeks ago. “Help me finalize this, Matt. I want her to sign it in forty-eight hours.” After leaving the law firm, I drove straight to our building’s management office. I placed my deed on the manager’s desk. “Mr. Isaac, could you check how many key fobs are currently registered to my unit?” Mr. Isaac tapped away at his keyboard. “You have three active fobs, Darren.” “Deactivate two of them,” I said without hesitation. “Only keep mine active. And please schedule a locksmith to come to my unit. Two days from now. Eight o’clock sharp. I want the locks changed.” Mr. Isaac blinked, taken aback by my cold tone, but he nodded. “Understood, Darren. We’ll have them there.” I walked out of the office and looked up at the sky. The afternoon sun was blindingly bright, but for the first time in years, the suffocating fog in my mind had completely cleared. For the next two days, I didn’t go back to the apartment. I checked Max and myself into a clean business hotel near my office. Initially, Rae bombarded my phone with calls and texts. When I didn’t reply, she must have assumed I was just sulking. But by the second night, her tone shifted. She sent a long, breathless voicemail. “Darren, seriously, stop throwing a tantrum. Do you have any idea how much money you’re wasting staying at a hotel? You think money grows on trees?” “My dad already said that if you just come home and apologize to him, he’ll drop the whole cherry thing. Let’s just move on.” I listened to the message, felt absolutely nothing, and blocked her number. Sitting at the hotel desk, I spent the evening organizing a spreadsheet of our finances from the last four years. The columns of numbers were a stark record of our marriage: everything from high-end kitchen appliances to the imported joint supplements my father-in-law insisted on taking. I had paid for all of it. Rae had spent years systematically draining my savings to fund her birth family. On the afternoon of the third day, I left work early to pick Max up from preschool. “Daddy, are we going home today?” Max asked quietly from the backseat, his large eyes reflecting a quiet fear. “Yes, buddy,” I said, reaching back to squeeze his hand. “But first, we’re going to meet a few nice uncles who are going to help us.” I parked my car along the curb outside our building. A few minutes later, a large moving truck pulled up behind us. Four broad-shouldered movers jumped out of the cab. The foreman walked over and tapped on my window. “Mr. Scott? You called for the clean-out service?” I nodded and stepped out of the car. “Yes. Thank you for coming. Just follow my lead.” Right then, my phone buzzed in my palm. It was a motion-alert notification from my home security app. I tapped the live stream. The living room was crowded. Aside from Richard, Rae’s younger sister, Emily, was there along with her husband, Greg, and their five-year-old daughter, Zoe. They had clearly just arrived. Massive duffel bags and cardboard boxes blocked the entire entryway. Greg was lounging on my sofa, laughing as he watched Zoe bounce up and down on the premium white leather cushions. “Wow, Dad, Rae’s place is amazing. It’s so spacious,” Emily said, biting into an apple as she paced the room. Richard sat in my armchair like a king on his throne. “Of course it is! My eldest daughter is a success. This house is the new foundation for our family.” “I already told Rae to have you guys move in.” “Darren and that useless boy are occupying the second bedroom anyway. It’s a total waste of space. We’ll clear them out so Zoe can have her own room.” Richard’s loud, boastful voice echoed through my phone speaker. I stared at the screen, and felt a sudden, icy surge of laughter bubble up in my throat. Rae really was something else. Instead of taking my three-day warning seriously, she had invited her entire parasitic family over to claim my home as their own. I locked my phone and looked at the movers. “Gentlemen, no matter how much they scream or cry, I want you to carry every single item that doesn’t belong to me out of that apartment.” “If there are any issues, I will take full responsibility.” The foreman cracked his knuckles with a grin. “Don’t worry, boss. We’re professionals. As long as you’ve got the deed, we’ll clear ’em out even if the President himself is sitting in there.” I took a deep, steadying breath and took Max’s hand. “Come on, Max. Let’s go clean up our house.” With four movers and two building security guards behind me, we stepped into the elevator. The floor numbers ticked up slowly, but my heart rate remained perfectly, beautifully calm. The doors opened on the sixteenth floor. I walked up to my front door, bypassed my keys, and pressed the doorbell. From inside the apartment, a chaotic rush of footsteps scrambled toward the door. The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Emily’s smug grin instantly froze when she saw me. She took a step back, her eyes darting nervously from me to the four towering movers and the two uniformed security guards standing behind me. “Darren…?” she stammered. I didn’t answer. I simply guided Max past her and stepped into the living room. The air in the apartment was thick and rancid. A portable electric stove sat on the coffee table, a greasy hot pot bubbling away, splattering red chili oil everywhere. The hardwood floor was littered with empty beer bottles, used napkins, and sunflower seed shells. My three-thousand-dollar white leather sofa was covered in dark, greasy footprints from where Zoe had been jumping. Richard was in the middle of dipping a piece of beef into the pot. When he saw me enter, he paused, then slammed his chopsticks down onto the table. “Oh, look who decided to crawl back!” Richard sneered, his eyes narrowing. “I thought you’d starved to death out there!” “Well, don’t just stand there. Go to the kitchen, wash the dishes, and slice some fruit for us.” He completely ignored the small army standing behind me, still expecting me to play the submissive servant. At that moment, the master bedroom door opened. Rae walked out, wearing her silk bathrobe and yawning. When she saw me, her brow furrowed, but then a triumphant smile spread across her face. “What’s the matter? Couldn’t afford the hotel bill, so you finally came crawling back?” She walked over to the sofa, sat down, and crossed her legs. “I hate to break it to you, Darren, but you’re too late.” “My sister and her family moved in today. They’ve already taken the second bedroom.” “You and the boy can sleep on the living room couch tonight.” She pointed lazily to the oil-stained leather sofa, her voice dripping with venomous satisfaction. I stood in the center of the room, quietly watching her little performance—watching the smug, ugly entitlement written all over her face. “Rae,” I said. My voice was very quiet, very cold, cutting straight through the noisy bubbling of the hot pot. “Can you not read?” “My note said to vacate within three days.” “Today is the third day.” Rae snapped, jumping to her feet and pointing a trembling finger at my face. “Darren, have you completely lost your mind?” “My entire family is here today. I dare you to try and lay a single finger on my father!” “You think bringing a couple of security guards is going to scare us?” Richard slammed his hand on the table, joining in. “Exactly! This is my daughter’s home! Who the hell are you to throw us out, you outsider?” “Greg, get up and throw this trash out!” Greg looked uneasy, but with his father-in-law watching, he took a hesitant step forward. “Come on, Darren, don’t make a scene. We’re family, there’s no need to make things so ugly…” I didn’t take a single step back. I reached into my bag, pulled out a document, and threw it down onto the table right next to the boiling hot pot. “Look closely,” I said, my voice deadpan. “That is a certified copy of the deed. This house belongs to me.” “The ground you are standing on is my private property.” Rae’s eyes fell on the paper. The smugness on her face instantly shattered. She stared at the words Sole Owner: Darren, her lips trembling as she tried to form a sentence. “You… why do you have this?” Her voice shook, all her previous bravado evaporating in an instant. I didn’t bother answering her. I turned to the movers and security guards behind me. “Gentlemen, begin.” “Take every single piece of property that doesn’t belong to me and throw it out.” “Officers, please monitor them. If anyone tries to interfere, call the police immediately and have them arrested for trespassing.” The moment the words left my mouth, the four movers charged into the living room and the second bedroom. “Hey! What are you doing? Stop! That’s my bag!” Richard shrieked, lunging forward to grab a duffel bag from one of the movers. But he was no match for a grown man half his age. With a gentle nudge, the mover sent him tumbling back onto the floor. Emily and Greg clutched each other and their daughter, too terrified to utter a single sound. Rae completely panicked. She rushed toward me, trying to grab my hand. “Darren! You’ve gone mad! We can talk about this! Why are you letting strangers ruin our home?” I violently slapped her hand away. I reached into my bag one last time, pulled out another document, and threw it directly into her face. “Our home?” I stared at her face, which had gone entirely bloodless. “Look closely, Rae. Those are divorce papers.” “Now, take your father, take your sister, and get the hell out of my house.”

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