Category: English

The day I brought a birthday gift to my fated mate, Alpha Floyd, I witnessed him kissing another woman with my own eyes. I rushed forward to confront him, only to be thrown into the rain and humiliated. Floyd’s sworn enemy, Alpha Isaac, took me away from my pain and kissed my lips, telling me he loved me. He would never hurt me, he said. But on my wedding day, I left the werewolf world behind. Four years later, when the two of them found me, I had become one of the world’s top perfumers. Isaac found me and asked me to come back to him. But I dismissed him with contempt, because I knew the love he showed me all those years ago was nothing but a lie. Caroline POV Seven days. Seven days until I was supposed to marry Isaac, the Alpha of Ironridge Pack. Everyone said I must have received the Moon Goddess’s blessing to go from being Floyd’s rejected mate to Isaac’s beloved. Two powerful pack Alphas both involved with me—many people were envious. Even I believed it myself. These past few years, Isaac had treasured me like a jewel in his palm. He was a noble Alpha, yet he would personally deliver hot soup to me on stormy nights, would cancel all his work to keep me company when I was in a bad mood. He said, “Caroline, I’m going to give you the most magnificent wedding and make everyone shut up.” I believed him. Until ten minutes ago, when I found a woman’s lipstick in his car. To find out who that lipstick belonged to—and more importantly, whether Isaac was cheating—I specifically extracted the dashcam footage. I inserted the card and began reading the data. I quickly found the video. Isaac had finished work and picked up two friends. Just as I was about to adjust the playback time, a mocking laugh came through the speakers. “Isaac, you fooled around with Bethany right there in the car. If Caroline found out, wouldn’t she be angry?” My hand froze on the mouse. I expected to hear Isaac defend me. “Angry?” Isaac’s voice was cold, accompanied by the crisp click of a lighter. “Right now all she’s thinking about is how to be the most beautiful bride. She doesn’t have time to be angry.” My smile froze on my face. The conversation in the car continued, each word cutting like a knife. “Is it really worth spending so much on this wedding just to piss off Floyd? What if Caroline really latches onto you? Are you really going to become her mate? But you haven’t Marked her in four years, so I guess that’s not your plan, right?” On the screen, Isaac exhaled a ring of smoke that blurred his handsome profile. But it didn’t blur the coldness in his eyes. “That small price to see Alpha Floyd’s shitty expression? This deal is worth it.” He chuckled lightly, as if discussing some worthless object. “On the wedding day, I’m going to announce the game is over in front of everyone. Alpha Floyd’s expression will be priceless. After all, no matter what, she was his fated mate. And he still hasn’t found a second one.” Malicious laughter erupted from the men in the car. “What about Caroline after that? So many people know she was abandoned by her fated mate, and then publicly jilted by you. Won’t her life be ruined?” Isaac flicked his cigarette ash, unconcerned. “Adult games—she’s stupid. Who else is to blame?” The video ended abruptly. The study fell into a deathly silence. I sat frozen in my chair, my blood turning to ice. So these four years of deep affection were just an elaborate, calculated lie. This was just a game to him, designed to humiliate Floyd, my former mate and Isaac’s sworn enemy, by humiliating me. My stomach churned violently. I rushed to the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet, but nothing came up. Tears hit the floor. I wiped them away viciously. Caroline, don’t cry. A scumbag like this isn’t worth it. My wolf was furious, but she calmly reminded me. I splashed cold water on my face and looked at my pale reflection in the mirror. Since you want to play something exciting, I’ll help you. I returned to the computer, my hands still trembling, but my eyes had gone cold. I clipped that five-minute segment of their car conspiracy, along with the earlier footage of Isaac having sex with his mistress Bethany, and backed it all up to the cloud. Just then, my phone lit up with a message from Isaac: “Dinner tonight? Wear that red dress—you look stunning in it.” I stared at that familiar profile picture, my fingertips white with pressure. Finally, I replied: “Okay.” I put down my phone and walked into the closet. That red dress hung in the most prominent position—he’d had it flown in from Paris last week. He said only my skin tone could do justice to that shade of red. Memory flashed back instantly to that rainy night four years ago. Floyd suddenly rejected me, breaking my heart. But I loved him, so I wanted to win back his heart. But when I brought him a birthday gift, I saw him kissing a woman I didn’t recognize. I tried to confront him, but he threw the birthday gift I gave him into the trash and mocked me in front of everyone: “Caroline, can’t you understand what I’m saying? Just looking at you makes me sick.” Everyone laughed. I was as pathetic as a clown. Isaac emerged from the corner, draped his coat over my shoulders, and blocked those humiliating stares. He also soothed the pain my wolf and I endured. “Come with me,” he said. “I’ll take you home.” That night, I thought he was my salvation. Now I know it was all fake.

Caroline POV Seven o’clock that evening, Isaac arrived right on time to pick me up. He’d changed into a dark gray custom suit, wearing the tie I’d knotted for him that morning. As soon as I got in the car, he leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Good evening, darling. You don’t look well.” He took my hand, frowning slightly, his eyes full of concern. “What happened?” If I hadn’t heard that recording. Right now I’d think I was the happiest woman in the world. I withdrew my hand, pretending to adjust my dress. “Probably just hungry.” Isaac didn’t suspect anything, smiling as he started the car. “Then let’s go. Can’t let my fiancée go hungry.” The restaurant was on the top floor. We could overlook the entire city’s nightscape. While cutting my steak, I spoke as if casually: “Isaac.” “Hmm?” He switched the cut meat to my plate, his movements fluid. “I ran into your friend Austin today.” I watched his eyes, not missing a single expression on his face. “He asked if I was nervous.” Isaac’s hand paused while cutting the meat. Just for a second, too fast to catch. Then he looked up, his smile flawless. “Ignore him. You just need to focus on being beautiful.” “He also said…” I gripped my knife and fork, my fingertips straining. “Floyd’s back in the country recently. He asked if you’d feel awkward.” “Caroline.” Isaac set down his knife and fork, reaching out to cover the back of my hand. His palm was warm, but his tone carried undeniable firmness. “Why bring him up? I told you, we’re getting married. Everything from the past is behind us.” He looked at me, his gaze so tender it could drown someone. “I only want you.” If that recording wasn’t still sitting in my cloud storage, I might have believed him again. “Right, it’s behind us.” I lowered my head and forked a piece of beef into my mouth. Medium rare, streaked with blood. Despite being top-quality ingredients, it tasted like sawdust in my mouth. “Oh, right.” Isaac seemed to remember something and pulled out an exquisite velvet box, pushing it toward me. “Almost forgot—this is your pre-wedding gift.” I opened it. A sapphire necklace with rich color and considerable value. “Do you like it?” He looked at me expectantly. I stared at that deep blue and suddenly remembered an Instagram story Bethany had posted last month. The caption read: [I love this deep blue so much, but Isaac said it doesn’t suit me.] So it didn’t suit her, which is why it came to me. Or maybe he bought two, and this was the leftover one? “I love it.” I closed the lid and smiled at him. “It must have been expensive.” “Any amount is worth it to spend on you.” Isaac ruffled my hair, his eyes full of affection. I excused myself to touch up my makeup in the restroom. Standing at the sink, I looked at the woman with perfect makeup in the mirror and forced out a smile uglier than crying. Since you want to play the devoted lover. Then I’ll help you along. I pulled out my phone and called Harlan, my father’s Beta. He answered quickly. “Miss Caroline, have you considered the Alpha’s proposal?” I looked at myself in the mirror, my voice terrifyingly calm. “I won’t become an Alpha. That kind of work doesn’t suit me. But I need you to do something for me.” Over the years, I’d rarely relied on my Alpha father’s influence. After all, my brother was deeply insecure about his position as heir to the Alpha title. He always thought I, his sister who had been more combative than him since childhood, would replace him. What a shame—I never had any such intention. Still, to avoid unnecessary conflicts, I tried not to do things that could be misunderstood. There was another reason: whether it was Floyd’s Frostveil Pack or Isaac’s Ironridge Pack, we couldn’t afford to provoke either. Even if I asked for help, my father couldn’t rescue me. But now, I wasn’t asking them to rescue me. “What do you need me to do?” “Tell my family they don’t need to make a special trip for my wedding. Also, book me a flight for the wedding day. I’ll go back and explain to them myself.” After hanging up, I reapplied my lipstick and stared at that crimson shade, my heart hardening bit by bit. Isaac. I’ll remember this final dinner well. When I returned to the table, Isaac was replying to messages. Seeing me, he quickly darkened his screen and stood up with a smile. “Let’s go home.” I took his arm, feeling his muscles stiffen for an instant. “Okay, home.”

Caroline POV Five days before the wedding, Bethany arrived. Under the guise of helping with preparations, she brazenly moved into Gerald Manor. She was the daughter of the previous Beta. Though she’d only inherited her mother’s Omega bloodline, she’d grown up with Isaac. She was also widely acknowledged within the pack as the woman Isaac loved most. If Isaac’s elders hadn’t strongly opposed him marrying an Omega, the Luna position would have been hers long ago. “Caroline, this evening gown is gorgeous.” Bethany stood before the fitting mirror, wearing what was supposed to be my red reception dress. The waist had been altered extremely tight, accentuating her graceful figure. She twirled around and looked at Isaac, who sat on the sofa. “Isaac, don’t I look better in red than Caroline?” Isaac held a financial magazine, not looking up. “Stop fooling around. Take it off. That’s for Caroline.” Though his tone was reproachful, there wasn’t a trace of anger in it. Bethany pouted and reluctantly headed to the changing room. “Stingy. I was just trying it on.” I sat to the side, holding my tea, watching quietly. In the past, I would have gotten angry and fought with Isaac. Then Isaac would patiently coax me, saying I was petty, that Bethany was like a little sister to him. Looking back now, I really was quite the joke. “Caroline, don’t mind her. I’ve spoiled Bethany.” Isaac set down his magazine and reached for my hand. “If you don’t like it, I’ll have her move out.” “It’s fine.” I avoided his hand and poured him tea. “The more people, the livelier it is. Besides, the house has plenty of rooms.” Isaac froze. Clearly he hadn’t expected me to be so magnanimous. In the past, whenever Bethany appeared, all my defenses would go up. “You’re not angry?” He looked at me tentatively. “Why would I be angry?” I smiled back. “She’s a friend who’ll be around often anyway. Besides, it’s just a dress. If she likes wearing it, let her.” After all, I wasn’t planning to wear that dress anyway. A flash of surprise crossed Isaac’s eyes, which then became relief. “Caroline, you’ve really changed. You’ve become more mature.” Mature? You forced me to mature. Just then, a crisp crash came from the changing room. Followed by Bethany’s cry: “Oh no!” Isaac’s expression changed. He threw down his magazine and rushed over at nearly the speed of a werewolf on the hunt. At the changing room door, Bethany sat collapsed on the floor, surrounded by shattered porcelain. It was a sculpture by a contemporary art master—Isaac had spent a fortune at auction to buy it for me. “Isaac, I didn’t mean to…” Bethany’s eyes reddened, looking pitiful. “I tripped just now and tried to steady myself on the sculpture, but…” Isaac didn’t even glance at the priceless artwork. He crouched down directly, gripping Bethany’s hand to inspect it. “Did you cut yourself? How can you be so careless?” “It hurts…” Bethany whimpered sweetly. I stood several meters away, watching this painfully glaring scene. That sculpture had once been treasured by Isaac, who said it represented our unbreakable love. Now it lay shattered on the floor, and he hadn’t even batted an eye. “Caroline!” Isaac turned around, his tone urgent. “Get the first aid kit. Bethany cut her hand.” I looked at him, unmoving. “What’s wrong?” He frowned, seemingly dissatisfied with my sluggish response. “Nothing.” I turned toward the cabinet, my voice flat. “If it’s broken, it’s broken. It was getting old anyway. Time for something new.” Isaac’s form stiffened. He seemed to hear something in my words, yet also seemed to hear nothing. He simply devoted all his attention to Bethany’s wound, which hadn’t even drawn blood. As if he’d forgotten that while Bethany was just a delicate Omega, she wasn’t that fragile. I returned with the first aid kit and set it on the table. “Take your time. I’m tired. I’ll head upstairs to rest.” As I turned to go upstairs, I heard Bethany say softly, “Isaac, is Caroline angry?” Isaac’s voice sounded irritated. “Don’t worry about her. She’s never been this cold-hearted before.” My steps didn’t falter. Reaching the second-floor landing, I pulled out my phone and sent Harlan a message: [Add one pet transport ticket. I’m taking Buddy with me.]

Caroline POV Three days before the wedding, the jewelry company delivered the rings. Isaac was in the study on a video conference call, so he had me sign for them. I signed and carried the heavy box into the study. He was listening to a subordinate’s report, his expression serious. Seeing me enter, his gaze instantly softened. He pointed to the corner of the desk, indicating I should set it down there. I placed the box on the desk. As I turned, my elbow accidentally knocked over a stack of documents. Papers scattered across the floor, revealing a design sketch that had been pressed underneath. I bent down to pick them up. My movement froze the moment I saw the sketch clearly. It was a ring design draft. The center stone was a rare pink diamond, with the word “only” engraved inside the band. The date in the corner was from half a month ago. And the wedding ring I’d just signed for had a white diamond as the center stone, with our initials engraved inside. Isaac removed his headphones and walked over. “What’s wrong?” Following my line of sight to the sketch, his expression stiffened. He casually pulled it away and tucked it into a folder. “Nothing, just a discarded draft.” His tone was natural as he put his arm around my shoulder. “Did you try the ring? Does it fit?” I looked at him and smiled. “Not yet. I’ll try it tonight.” At two in the morning, the person beside me was breathing evenly. I carefully got up and walked into the study. I opened the safe—the password was my birthday. Inside lay two identical navy blue boxes. I opened the one on the left. Pink diamond, engraved with “only.” Dazzling. I opened the one on the right. White diamond, engraved with our surnames. Conventional. Isaac once said, “Caroline, you are my only.” So this was what “only” truly meant. I took out both rings. And switched the boxes. I placed the pink diamond in the box prepared for the wedding ceremony, and put the white diamond in the box that had originally belonged to Bethany. After finishing this, I closed the safe. Returning to the bedroom, Isaac rolled over, his arm instinctively reaching to hold me. I avoided his hand and lay at the edge of the bed. Moonlight spilled across the floor, illuminating the calendar on the nightstand. The date was circled in red pen. Three more days until I could leave him.

Caroline POV Next, I began clearing out my belongings. The house was filled with gifts Isaac had given me over four years. Hermès bags, complete sets of Cartier jewelry, limited edition heels. Once, these were all proof of his love for me. I contacted luxury goods resellers. Because of the volume, they brought an authenticator directly to the house. “Mrs. Gerald, several of these bags are brand new. Are you sure you want to sell them all?” The authenticator wore gloves, his face full of regret. “Yes.” I sipped my coffee, my tone calm. “Wire transfer. The faster the better.” When Isaac came home, he happened to witness workers carrying out boxes. The house was half empty, seeming somewhat desolate. “What’s going on?” He frowned, looking at the emptied closet. “I want to redecorate.” I walked over and helped him loosen his tie. “Clear out everything from the past. After the wedding, replace it all with new things. I want our home—every corner—to be a fresh start.” Isaac froze. Then a smile appeared in his eyes. He probably thought I was so madly in love with him that I wanted to completely say goodbye to the past and wholeheartedly become his mate. “Alright.” He held my hand and kissed my fingertips, his eyes full of affection. “Whatever you say. As long as you’re happy, you can tear down the whole house.” “Oh, right.” I pointed to the dog bed in the corner. “I sent Buddy to the pet hotel for boarding. The house is chaotic these days—didn’t want to disturb him.” Buddy was the puppy we’d raised together. Isaac usually doted on him most. “Whatever you think is best.” He didn’t suspect a thing, even seeming somewhat moved. “Caroline, you’ve worked so hard for this family.” After Isaac went into the bathroom to shower, my phone vibrated. A bank notification. The number was long—enough to buy a small apartment outright. I deleted the message and opened my private cloud storage. I set that dashcam footage to send on a timer. The recipient was the wedding venue’s main control station. Send time: 10 AM on the wedding day. After finishing this, the sound of water in the bathroom stopped. Isaac emerged wrapped in a towel, water still dripping from his hair. “Darling, grab me some pajamas.” I handed them to him. As he took them, he pulled me into his embrace, his voice somewhat husky. “The wedding’s the day after tomorrow. Are you nervous?” I leaned against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. “Not nervous,” I said. “I’m looking forward to it.” I was looking forward to how surprised he’d look when he saw the gift I prepared for him.

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I once thought Peyton was the person who loved me most in the world. Five years of marriage. He worshipped the ground I walked on. Even I believed it was real. Until a paternity test told me the truth. The child calling me “Mommy” wasn’t mine. Until I saw him holding Lily, my sponsored student. Their lips locked under fireworks. Until I learned that the baby I nearly died to bring into the world had been suffocated with a handkerchief. Lily burned my baby to ash. They took everything from me. But they didn’t know one thing. I’m the heir to the Summers family. Heartbroken and done with lies, I called my brother. “I was wrong. I’ll take the arranged marriage.” Seraphina’s POV “Is your child adopted?” When I heard the doctor’s question, I instinctively held the child in my arms tighter. “What?” This was the baby I gave birth to myself. How could he possibly be adopted?! The doctor turned the computer screen toward me, pointing at the parental information section. “The child’s blood test results came back. Type B.” “You’re Type O. Your husband Peyton is Type A.” “Type O and Type A cannot produce a Type B child.” The doctor’s words felt like a heavy boulder crashing down on my heart. The child had a slight fever today. Peyton was away on business, and our driver happened to have taken the day off. Worried the baby’s condition might worsen, I quickly hailed a taxi and rushed to the nearest hospital. I’d previously always gone to the Summers family’s private hospital far from home. At that hospital, no doctor had ever raised such doubts. The doctor looked at my pale face and softened her tone. “If you have concerns, I can arrange an expedited paternity test.” “It only takes three hours to get results.” I numbly signed the consent form. Three hours felt as long as a century. I sat on a chair in the hospital corridor, the sleeping child in my arms. The child’s breathing was even, his little face looking innocent and harmless. But looking at him, I suddenly felt like he was a stranger. Five years of marriage. Everyone said Peyton had spoiled me into the happiest wife in San Francisco. He remembered all my preferences, would cancel all social engagements to come home and keep me company, took meticulous care of me during my pregnancy. Everyone envied me. Even I believed it myself. I thought I’d married the man who loved me most. I thought our child was the best proof of our love. But now, it had all become a joke. The paternity test report was finally delivered to my hands. A thin sheet of paper, so hot it burned my fingertips. The sentence at the bottom was painfully clear. “Based on DNA analysis results, Seraphina is not the biological mother of this child.” This wasn’t my child. Then where was my child? Before I could process this information, a familiar voice suddenly reached my ears. I looked toward the sound and actually discovered my husband Peyton. Wasn’t he supposed to be on a business trip? Peyton was steadily supporting a woman. The woman was clutching her lower abdomen, her face flushed with an unnatural redness. “It’s all your fault, honey. Why did you have sex with me in the car? Now the baby in my belly is upset, and you’ve landed me in the hospital.” When I saw that face clearly, my eyes widened instantly. It was actually Lily! Lily was a poverty-stricken student I’d been quietly sponsoring since high school. I gave her the opportunity to study, gave her a job. Now she was Peyton’s chief assistant. I gave her my complete trust, never once guarded against her. But I never imagined that Lily had secretly been sleeping with Peyton! My heart racing in panic, I hid in the stairwell holding the child, then heard Peyton say indulgently. “It’s because you’re too attractive. You’ve already given birth to Harper, yet you’re still so tempting…” I couldn’t believe it, because the child in my arms was Harper! So the child I’d been raising for nearly a year was Lily’s. Lily was even pregnant with Peyton’s second child. My world instantly collapsed. I held the baby that didn’t belong to me and walked out of the hospital step by step. Returning to the empty house, I closed the door and finally couldn’t hold on anymore. I called my brother Ashton. I hadn’t talked to him in years. My voice shook, but it was oddly clear. “I lost the bet. He fell for her.” “I need you to check three things for me.” “Peyton.” “Lily.” “And the day I gave birth at Summers Hospital one year ago. Every camera. Every record. Every nurse present. I want it all.” “I have to know where my baby is.” The wind from the corridor lifted my clothes. I gazed into the distance, my eyes gradually turning cold. Peyton. You lied to me. This time, I won’t trust you again.

Seraphina’s POV Not long after, Peyton came home. “Darling, I’m back.” In the bedroom, as soon as he saw me, he quickly walked toward me, reaching out to pull me into his arms. I quietly shifted to the side, gently avoiding his touch. Peyton’s hand froze in midair. A flash of displeasure swept through his eyes, then was quickly covered by a warm smile. The scene from the hospital replayed repeatedly in my mind. Peyton holding Lily, his tone indulgent. This was the man I’d known for over a decade, with whom I’d shared five years of marriage. He was the boy whose ears would turn red when kissing me, nervous enough to sweat from his palms. How had he become like this? “Darling, what’s wrong?” Peyton softened his voice. “Are you still angry that I’ve been away on business for so long? But I’ve really been busy lately. Forgive me, okay?” He stepped forward, trying to get close again. I took half a step back, keeping my distance. The tenderness on Peyton’s face faded somewhat, a barely perceptible forcefulness suppressed in his eyes. He reached out and gripped my wrist. The force wasn’t great, but carried an inescapable sense of control. “Why are you avoiding me?” Peyton glanced at the suitcase nearby and frowned. That was something I’d packed in advance. I couldn’t stay in a home full of betrayal. I needed to find my own child. Peyton looked down at me, his tone still gentle but hiding an interrogation. “Why did you get out your suitcase? Are you trying to disappear quietly again like last time, making it impossible for me to find you?” My heart ached. I remembered that year in college when we had a fight and I hid in the library, refusing to see him. Peyton searched for me all night like a madman. The next day, he held me with reddened eyes, his voice hoarse, saying he’d never let me leave his side again. Back then, he was clean, innocent, careful. And now, all he had left for me was suffocating possession and control. As if I were one of his possessions. I suppressed the bitterness in my throat, forcing myself to lower my eyes. “I’m not avoiding you. I was just sorting through old things I don’t need anymore. I got dust on myself and was afraid of dirtying your clothes.” I couldn’t expose myself. I couldn’t let him know I already knew the truth about the child, and I couldn’t let him know I was preparing to leave. Peyton’s expression relaxed. He walked over and hugged me tightly, his tone affectionate. “It’s okay. I missed you and the baby.” Once, that sweetness would have moved me. Now it only turns my stomach. And this baby. What a joke. Before I could speak, Peyton’s phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the screen, his eyes flickering, then turned and walked to the balcony to take the call. His voice was extremely low, yet still couldn’t hide its tenderness. “Mm, I’m at home… Don’t move around, I’ll come see you now…” I stood in place, my fingertips ice cold. Peyton hung up the phone. When he turned to speak to me, he was as natural as if nothing had happened. “The company has an urgent matter. I need to go out for a bit. Take good care of the child at home. Don’t overthink things.” He left quickly. The moment the door closed, I could no longer hold on and slowly slid down to the floor. The child in the crib slept peacefully, but I was freezing all over. Not long after, an anonymous text message popped up, with an audio recording attached. My fingers trembling, I clicked play. Peyton’s voice came through, low and husky, with suppressed panting. “Lily…” Lily’s voice was full of grievance. “Who do you really love? I don’t want to keep sneaking around with you like this…” Peyton laughed lowly, his tone casual yet cruel. “Of course I love you. Seraphina is rigid and boring. She’s getting old too. I’ve been tired of her for a long time.” Lily laughed smugly. “But when I think about my son calling her mommy every day, I get so annoyed… Her child died right after being born. Why does she get to keep my child!” “Darling, don’t be angry.” Peyton coaxed her gently. “I just bought a fifty-million-dollar jewelry set. I’ll have it delivered to you tomorrow. Our child will return to your side sooner or later.” He paused, his voice deepening. “For now… let’s enjoy our beautiful time together.” … I was thunderstruck, all the blood in my body instantly freezing. I finally understood. A year ago on the day I gave birth, what I experienced wasn’t an accident, but a long-planned conspiracy. The child I nearly died giving birth to had died long ago. And Lily, whom I supported with all my effort and trusted, had slept with my husband, given birth to my “son,” and was now pregnant with a second child, waiting to take my place. Five years of marriage. Ten years of deep affection. What he gave me wasn’t a home, but an elaborately woven lie. I gripped my phone, tears silently falling onto the screen. I slowly stood up, my eyes gradually changing from shattered to desolate, then from desolate to coldly resolute. Peyton. Lily. Everything you owe me and my child, I will take it all back!

Seraphina’s POV I stood in the center of the living room, my fingertips still carrying a slight tremor. I’d cried, broken down, despaired. But now, I was terrifyingly clearheaded. What use was crying? My child had already been taken from me, murdered. I didn’t even know where my child was buried. I slowly lowered my head, looking at Harper sleeping peacefully in the crib. I loved the wrong person and raised the wrong child. I took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the surging emotions in my chest, picked up my phone, and dialed a number. “Hello.” Ashton on the other end seemed to have been waiting for me. His voice was low. “I found the information you wanted.” My fingers tightened sharply. “Tell me.” Ashton was silent for a second, his tone very low. “The day you gave birth a year ago, the surveillance at the Summers private hospital was deliberately deleted.” “But I recovered part of it.” “The child you gave birth to was alive.” This sentence struck like thunder, crashing violently into my mind. My breath caught. I could barely stand. Alive. The child I gave birth to was alive. My child wasn’t stillborn. “Then where is my child?” My voice became urgent. Ashton sighed heavily, somewhat reluctant. “What comes next, you might not be able to handle.” “Your child still died.” “The specific cause of death was hidden.” “The delivery nurses were forcibly transferred. One has already left the country, the other… died in an accident three months ago.” Ashton’s voice contained suppressed anger. “But I found that on that day, there was an extra ‘medical waste disposal record.’” “That record was personally signed and taken away by Peyton. The male infant was directly cremated afterward.” My pupils constricted sharply. My child died just like that. In their eyes, my child was just “waste.” My nails dug deeply into my palm. “What about the ashes? Where are the ashes now?” Ashton paused, slowly speaking. “The funeral home records show the ashes were sent to the basement of the Summers family’s abandoned villa…” A buzzing suddenly filled my ears. My child had been burned to ashes. He was in a dark place. He had no name and no identity. I suddenly laughed, a laugh that sent chills. “Good.” After that, I didn’t hesitate and immediately went to the Summers family’s former villa. The basement was cold and damp. I searched every corner but couldn’t find the urn. My hands began to tremble. The emotions I’d barely suppressed in my chest instantly surged up. Just then, my phone rang. I opened it to a text message: “Are you looking for your son’s ashes?” The next second, another message popped up. “I have them.” “Do you want them?” Immediately after came a photo. In the photo was a small, somewhat dirty white urn. The box was just casually placed on a vanity. Next to the urn was Lily’s hand, looking arrogant and malicious. My fingertips dug viciously into my palm. The piercing pain in my flesh couldn’t match one ten-thousandth of the pain in my heart. The phone vibrated again. “Actually, I didn’t want it to be this way.” “But who told you to cling to the position of Mrs. Summers?” “Tell me, what’s the point of keeping a dead child?” “Might as well exchange it for something valuable?” My eyes completely turned cold. I slowly typed a reply. “What do you want?” The other party’s response came almost instantly. “Very simple.” “Just divorce Peyton, and I’ll return the ashes to you.” I didn’t want that rotten man anyway. I sent Ashton a text. “I want to divorce Peyton. And the day I leave, immediately withdraw all investments in the Summers Corporation.” Peyton had always thought I was a weak woman who could only depend on him to survive. He never knew I was the heir to the New York Summers family. Back when he was starting his business and on the verge of bankruptcy, I begged my family to quietly invest, pulling him out of the mire. Now that I was divorcing him, it was time to let him lose everything again.

Seraphina’s POV Ashton’s message came quickly. “I support your divorce. After you divorce, I’ll come get you. Mom and Dad miss you too.” I looked at the screen, my heart suddenly tightening. Years ago, my parents firmly opposed my marriage to Peyton. They said he wasn’t a good man. I didn’t believe them, so I severed ties with my family and suffered alongside him, betting my entire youth to prove I hadn’t chosen wrong. I didn’t want a wedding. He and I only registered our marriage. But in just five years, I’d lost that bet. I gave up my family, my pride, my way out, and in return got a switched child, betrayal, and the pain of losing my child. It turned out I was the stupidest one all along. Early the next morning, I went directly to a private law firm and calmly drafted divorce papers. Property division, liability statements. I reviewed everything carefully. I had no lingering feelings for him. I put the agreement in a document folder and took a car to the Summers Corporation, wanting to divorce Peyton immediately. On the way, I casually opened social media. A trending post suddenly popped up on the homepage. The poster was Lily. The caption was just one sentence that stabbed my eyes: “Thank you to my love for giving me this wedding~” The wedding location was at a delicate small chapel in the suburbs. Wedding. This was the regret I’d hidden for five years. I remembered when I was twenty-two, Peyton knelt before me proposing, his eyes full of sincerity. “Seraphina, I don’t have money now. I can’t give you a grand wedding. But wait for me. When I succeed, I’ll definitely make it up to you with the best wedding.” I smiled and said it didn’t matter. Having him was enough. Later we registered our marriage. No wedding dress, no chapel. I cooked two plates of pasta in our rental apartment as our wedding ceremony. I thought we’d continue happily like this, but now he’d given another woman the ceremony I once longed for. I had the driver turn around and head to that small chapel. The chapel wasn’t large, but was decorated warmly and romantically. The wedding setting was exactly what I’d secretly fantasized about countless times. I didn’t go forward, just sat silently in the shadows of the back row. On stage, Lily wore a pure white wedding dress. Her lower abdomen was slightly rounded. She nestled happily in Peyton’s arms. The way he looked at her held a tenderness and adoration I’d never seen. When the officiant finished speaking, Peyton leaned down, cupped the back of Lily’s neck, and kissed her deeply. Applause and congratulations rose around them. Each blessing felt like a needle piercing my ears. After Peyton’s career succeeded, it wasn’t that I hadn’t asked him when we’d have our makeup wedding. But the answer I got was always “wait a bit longer.” So he didn’t refuse to have one. He just didn’t want to have one for me. An invisible hand viciously squeezed my heart. The pain made it nearly impossible to breathe. Just as the applause reached its peak, Peyton suddenly looked up. Our eyes met. His gaze froze abruptly, the tenderness and smile on his face instantly solidifying. Time seemed to stop in this moment. He saw me sitting in the corner, his pupils contracting violently. I quietly gazed back at him. Peyton called out my name in a low voice. “Seraphina…” The entire venue fell deathly silent.

Seraphina’s POV The sweetness on Lily’s face instantly froze. The malice in her eyes almost overflowed. Suddenly, she immediately put on an innocent, frightened expression, clutching her lower abdomen and hiding slightly behind Peyton. The guests’ gazes all turned toward me. Peyton’s expression changed drastically. He almost instinctively pushed Lily away and strode quickly toward me. He forcibly maintained his composure, his tone urgent yet carrying his usual deception. “Seraphina, let me explain. Lily is the girl you sponsored. I’ve always seen her as a sister. Today we’re just… just wearing a wedding dress to take some photos.” He reached out to pull me, his eyes certain yet false. “The person I love has always only been you. Only you for this entire lifetime.” I recoiled as if burned, the corners of my mouth curving into an icy smile. “Sister?” “Then whose child is in her belly?” Peyton’s expression cracked. “You got her pregnant, and you still dare tell me she’s just your sister?” My gaze fell on his lips, where Lily’s lipstick mark still remained. “Your sister wears a wedding dress and makes out with you for three minutes?” My words were all like knives, precisely cutting through all his pale excuses. Peyton’s mouth opened and closed. His Adam’s apple bobbed, but he couldn’t refute me. The entire venue erupted. Lily’s face went pale. She immediately rushed over, dropping to her knees with a “thud” in front of me, her hands desperately clutching my legs, crying pitifully. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault… I seduced him. Don’t blame Peyton. If you want to blame someone, blame me. Please forgive me…” She cried until her whole body shook, looking extremely wronged. The friends around immediately couldn’t stand it and came forward to accuse me. “Seraphina, what’s wrong with you? They’re just acting!” “So what if a man has a mistress on the side? As long as Peyton has you in his heart, that’s enough!” “Lily is so pitiful. Do you have to drive her to death to be happy?” One accusation after another, like icy rain pouring on my heart. So in these people’s eyes, betrayal could be forgiven, harm could be forgotten. And I, the victim, had become the villain instead. My heart completely died. Seeing I still had no reaction, Lily cried harder. She suddenly released her hands and staggered backward. “Since you won’t forgive me… then I’ll just die. I shouldn’t exist. I shouldn’t disturb you two!” Before her words finished, she suddenly stood up, lifting her wedding dress hem and rushed straight out of the chapel, running directly into the middle of the road. The sharp sound of brakes suddenly rang out. Bang! A muffled thud. Lily was violently thrown by the car. “Lily!” Peyton rushed over like a madman, kneeling on the ground and cradling Lily’s head. His hands were covered in blood, his voice trembling. “Ambulance! Quick, call an ambulance!” I walked to the doorway, watching the chaos before me. Peyton suddenly lifted his head. Seeing me standing on the steps, his eyes held only cold disgust and accusation. “Seraphina! When did you become so vicious?!” Vicious. This word hit me like a slap across the face. I stood on the steps, wind blowing through my hair. I looked at Lily in Peyton’s arms, at the shocked or accusing faces around me, at this world I once thought would be my home, and suddenly laughed. I laughed until tears came out. “I’m vicious?” My voice was very soft. “Peyton, you’re the one who made me this way.” You personally forced the me who once had only you in her heart into what I am today.

Seraphina’s POV At the hospital under the Summers Corporation. The red light of the emergency room glared harshly. Peyton leaned against the corridor wall, his white shirt cuffs stained with blood. Lily’s blood. His gaze emptily fixed on the emergency room door, his whole being like someone whose soul had been extracted. I stood at the end of the corridor, watching that man pace anxiously, a dense pain spreading through my chest. Once when I had a fever and was hospitalized, he guarded my bedside just like this, eyes red, saying he was afraid something would happen to me. Once when I casually mentioned feeling unwell, he could cancel all meetings and spend the entire night accompanying me through every examination. Now none of this belonged to me anymore. The emergency room’s red light went out. A doctor walked out, removed his mask, and shook his head. “Mr. Summers, Miss Lily’s injuries were too severe. The baby couldn’t be saved.” Peyton’s body swayed. His eyes instantly filled with bloodshot veins. He rushed into the hospital room. Through the glass window, I clearly heard his choked voice, full of heartache and love. “Lily, don’t be afraid. I’m here. It’s my fault for not protecting you and the baby.” “We’ll have another child in the future. I’ll stay with you for the rest of my life.” I closed my eyes. The last trace of hope completely extinguished. He made promises to the woman who killed my child. While my biological son received nothing. I didn’t want to watch anymore, didn’t want to wait anymore. I just wanted to completely escape this place full of lies and blood. I turned around. Just as I took one step, two dark figures suddenly blocked my path. They were Peyton’s personal bodyguards. “Mrs. Summers, Mr. Summers instructed you to come with us.” “I’m not going.” I forcefully pushed them away, trying to break free, my heart full of resistance. I knew Peyton’s personality too well. If I stayed now, all that awaited me was endless torment. The bodyguards’ faces were cold and hard, showing no mercy whatsoever. One of them raised his hand and struck hard at the back of my neck. A sharp, blunt pain hit me. My vision went black, and I completely lost consciousness. When I woke again, a pungent moldy smell and cold atmosphere enveloped me. Pitch darkness surrounded me. Only one dim yellow light bulb swayed and flickered. This was the basement of the Summers family’s old mansion. The place where my child’s urn had been hidden before. I struggled to sit up. My whole body was sore and weak, my wrists painfully chafed by rope. Footsteps approached from far to near. Peyton walked in, his face devoid of its usual tenderness, leaving only coldness and forcefulness. “You’re awake?” I looked up at him, my eyes desolate, without a trace of emotion. “Peyton, you actually dare treat me like this?” “You and Lily conspired to switch my child, kill him, burn him as medical waste. Doesn’t your heart hurt?” My voice wasn’t loud, but carried bone-deep hatred. I bit down hard on every word. Peyton frowned deeply, his face full of impatience. His tone was light and dismissive. “What lies are you telling? Wasn’t your child dead when he was born?” “Lily even painfully gave you her own child to raise, and you’re still not satisfied?” Ashton said the child was alive when born. How could he say my child was dead at birth? Just as I was about to question him, I heard Peyton say. “In a moment, apologize to Lily, and this matter will be over. I’ll still consider you my wife. I won’t pursue what happened before.” I turned my head away, forcefully avoiding his touch, my eyes cold. “I did nothing wrong. I absolutely will not apologize.” The ones who killed my child were them. The ones who betrayed our marriage were them. What right did they have to demand I apologize? The smile on Peyton’s face instantly vanished. His expression darkened terrifyingly as he sternly rebuked me. “Seraphina!” He turned to look at the bodyguards outside the door, coldly ordering. “Watch her. Without my orders, don’t let her step out of here!” With that, Peyton turned and left. He was clearly anxious to go care for Lily. The basement’s iron door was slammed shut, locked, completely cutting off the outside light. I curled up in the corner, freezing all over. Not long after, several thin black shadows suddenly slid through the gap in the iron door, slowly crawling toward me. Snakes! Peyton clearly knew I was most afraid of snakes. My face went deathly pale. Trembling all over in fright, I desperately shrank back, pounding on the iron door with all my might, screaming for help. “Open the door! Let me out! Is anyone there!” From outside the door came the bodyguards’ cold mocking laughter, completely devoid of warmth. “Just accept all this.” “You caused Miss Lily to lose her child and nearly cost her life. Mr. Summers is very angry and told us to punish you severely!” “No one will come save you.” My hand pounding on the door gradually weakened. Watching the snakes get closer and closer, only despair remained in my eyes. So my life was this cheap in their eyes.

Seraphina’s POV The rustling sound of snakes crawling rang in my ears. I curled up in the corner, making myself as small as possible. My nails dug deeply into my palms, trying to use pain to fight fear. I didn’t know how long I’d been locked up. A few hours, or a few days? The bodyguards’ cold mockery still seemed to echo in my ears. Before my eyes kept flashing the small urn, and Peyton’s heartless face. But I kept persisting. Apologize? Apologize to the woman who killed my child? I’d rather die. When my consciousness began to blur, I hazily heard the sound of the iron door opening. Someone picked me up. That person’s chest was very warm, their scent very familiar. It was Peyton. I wanted to push him away, but my body no longer obeyed. I completely fell into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, the pungent smell of disinfectant filled my nose. I slowly moved my eyes and found myself lying in a hospital bed. In the chair beside the bed sat Peyton. He was looking down, slowly peeling an apple. His movements appeared extremely gentle, completely different from his coldness in the basement. Noticing I’d woken up, Peyton looked up, his tone carrying some reproach yet wrapped in deliberately performed affection. “Finally awake? Why are you so unreasonable?” “It’s just asking you to apologize to Lily and the matter would be over. Why did you have to torment yourself into this condition?” He cut the peeled apple into small pieces, speared them with a small fork, and brought them to my lips. His eyes were gentle, his tone soft. “Seraphina, I love you. I always have.” “I know you suffered, but Lily lost her baby too. Why can’t you understand?” “Just accept me, and I’ll make it up to you. We’ll be like before. Okay?” Love? The love that chained me in a basement. That let snakes torment me. That murdered my baby. I couldn’t bear that kind of love. His devotion was just a show he put on for himself, so false it made me sick. Before I could speak, the hospital room door was violently pushed open. A bodyguard rushed in looking flustered, followed by a male doctor who kept his head down, looking equally panicked. The tenderness on Peyton’s face instantly vanished. He frowned deeply, his tone darkening. “What happened?” The bodyguard hurried forward, lowering his voice to report, his tone full of urgency. “Mr. Summers, something happened to Lily. Someone switched her medication with ingredients she’s allergic to. She’s having a severe allergic reaction now and is being resuscitated!” Peyton’s expression changed drastically. The fruit knife in his hand clattered onto the plate as his eyes instantly turned sinister. He immediately demanded harshly, “What’s going on? Have you found out who did it?” The bodyguard pushed the doctor forward. The doctor dropped to his knees with a thud, looked up and pointed at me on the hospital bed, his eyes evasive. “Mr. Summers, it was Miss Seraphina! She secretly gave me two hundred thousand dollars to switch Miss Lily’s medication!” I lay in bed without even the strength to refute. I just felt it was absurd. I’d been controlled by Peyton the entire time. First imprisoned in the basement, then waking up in the hospital. I’d never even been to Lily’s hospital room. How could I possibly have bribed a doctor to switch medication? But Peyton didn’t listen. The look in his eyes as he stared at me was instantly filled with fury and hatred. He abruptly stood up, grabbed my collar, and yanked me from the hospital bed. The IV needle tore from the back of my hand, bringing out a string of blood droplets. The stinging pain spread from my hand through my entire arm. He lifted me up. My toes barely touched the ground. My breathing became difficult as my collar strangled me. “Seraphina, I’m warning you. If anything happens to Lily, I’ll make you die.” He released his grip. I fell heavily back onto the bed, my head hitting the bed rail. My vision went black. Peyton turned to the doctor, his voice as cold as ice. “Give her penicillin.” My pupils constricted sharply. “No…” I desperately tried to shrink back. “Peyton, I’m allergic to penicillin! You know that!” I was indeed allergic to penicillin. This was the most basic fact from our ten years together. Every time I got sick, Peyton specifically instructed doctors to avoid penicillin-based medications. Peyton looked at my terrified face, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “I know.” “I want you to suffer the same pain as Lily.” The doctor hesitated, not daring to move. Peyton shot him a glare. “What are you waiting for? If anything happens to her, I’ll take full responsibility.” The doctor ran out, grabbed a syringe of penicillin, and rushed back to the bedside. “Don’t come near me…” I tried to pull away, but my body was too weak. I couldn’t even turn over. The cold liquid entered my veins and spread instantly through my body. Within seconds, my skin started itching, and I couldn’t breathe. My vision blurred. Peyton’s furious face faded away. Just then, I heard a familiar voice.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “391780”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

For ten years, I was just a stand-in for Ethan Reid and Adrian Cross. When Isabella came back, she stole my design drafts and put her name on them. They said they’d love me forever. Then I found them in bed with her. They were calling her “baby” while she moaned beneath them.” That’s when I knew. Isabella was the one they’d really loved all along. I packed my bags. Burned every photo we’d taken. Left for Milan. Later, they knelt in the rain, begging me to come back. But I held my fiancé’s arm and looked down at them. I tossed them a check. “Go back to where you came from. Don’t ever show up in front of me again.” Stella Hart POV After confirming my acceptance of the Milan Design Academy’s offer, I exited the group chat called “Stella’s Exclusive Knights.” The group originally had only three people: me, Ethan, and Adrian. But six months ago, a fourth person was added. Isabella. The name also changed to “One Happy Family.” The moment I left the chat, I didn’t hesitate for a second. It felt like finally cutting away a piece of rotting flesh. On my desk sat a photo of the three of us. In it, Ethan’s cold, sharp features were uncharacteristically gentle as he looked down adjusting my scarf. Adrian smiled brightly, his arm around my shoulders from behind, like he was protecting some priceless treasure. I picked up the frame, pulled out the photo, and tore it into pieces without expression, tossing them into the trash bin at my feet. “Ethan, Adrian, these ten years of entanglement end here.” My phone screen lit up with a private message from Adrian. “Stella, are you coming to Isabella’s welcome dinner tonight or not? Can you stop making a scene? Everyone’s waiting for you.” Immediately after, Ethan sent one too. “She just got to New York and doesn’t have many friends. As an investor in the studio, can’t you help her out?” I smiled bitterly and didn’t reply. Instead, I opened the Instagram post Isabella had made half an hour ago. In the photo, Isabella wore a haute couture gown with a dazzling sapphire necklace around her neck, smiling sweetly as she stood between Ethan and Adrian. The caption: “Thank you to my beloved brothers for this surprise. I feel like a little princess.” My gaze locked onto that sapphire necklace. It was my mother’s keepsake, locked away in the studio safe. Only the three of us knew the password. I took a deep breath and called Ethan. “Why is my necklace on Isabella’s neck?” My voice was surprisingly calm. There was a pause on the other end, then Ethan’s unconcerned voice came through. “Isabella didn’t have suitable jewelry for tonight. I saw that necklace wasn’t being worn, so I let her borrow it. Don’t be so petty. It’s just a necklace. If you want it, I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” Adrian’s voice came from nearby, tinged with impatience. “Stella Hart, can you stop making a scene? Isabella’s had such a hard life. She finally has one happy evening, and you have to ruin it right now? What we did was wrong, but we’re the ones who opened the safe. If you want to blame someone, blame us.” I heard the background music from the party and Isabella’s delicate laughter through the phone, and felt my stomach turn. Before, if anyone so much as looked at me the wrong way, Ethan and Adrian would gouge their eyes out. When I was sixteen, at a gala, some tycoon said disrespectful things to me and tried to touch my hand. Ethan smashed a bottle on the spot and ground the man’s face into the broken glass. Adrian went further, using his family’s power to bankrupt the tycoon’s family and run them out of New York overnight. They used to spoil me endlessly, creating the strictest “protection circle” around me, not allowing anyone to hurt me. But now, they’d handed the knife to someone else themselves. “Don’t bother replacing it,” I interrupted them. “Since she likes it, give it to her.” With that, I hung up and blocked both their numbers. Seven days until my flight to Milan.

Stella Hart POV Early the next morning, I went to the studio. I didn’t go to my private office. Instead, I walked straight to the storage room, pulled out a large cardboard box, and started clearing out my things. Ethan and Adrian pushed through the door just as I was tossing a pair of custom baby’s breath couple rings into the trash. They had pooled their money at an auction when they turned eighteen to buy the raw stones, then spent three months polishing them themselves before giving them to me. Back then, they’d knelt on one knee and declared domineeringly, “Stella Hart, you can only wear rings we give you for the rest of your life. If you dare take them off, we’ll break your legs.” “What are you doing?” Ethan strode over and grabbed my wrist, staring darkly at the rings in the trash. Adrian’s expression turned equally grim. “Stella Hart, have you made enough of a scene? Fine, you didn’t come to the dinner last night, but now you show up and start throwing things away? What are you trying to do?” I yanked my hand free from Ethan’s grip, my tone indifferent. “Just clearing out garbage. These things take up space. Might as well throw them away.” “Garbage?” Ethan’s jaw clenched, disbelief flashing in his eyes. “Do you know what these rings-” “I know,” I cut him off. “But I don’t need them anymore.” Just then, Isabella walked in carrying two cups of coffee. Seeing this scene, her eyes immediately reddened and she said timidly, “Stella, are you still mad at me? I already took off the necklace from last night-I’ll return it to you right now. Don’t be angry with them, it’s all my fault…” She reached out to tug at my sleeve. I instinctively stepped back, and Isabella suddenly cried out. The coffee cup in her hand dropped to the floor, and scalding coffee splashed all over her leg. “Ah! It hurts!” Isabella fell to the ground, tears streaming down her face instantly. “Isabella!” Ethan and Adrian rushed over simultaneously. Ethan scooped Isabella into his arms, nervously checking her leg. Adrian spun around, glaring at me with vicious eyes. “Are you insane?! She was just trying to return the necklace to you. Why did you push her!” I stood there, watching their panicked reactions, and suddenly found it somewhat funny. “I didn’t push her.” “I saw it with my own eyes, and you’re still denying it!” Adrian roared. “Stella Hart, when did you become so vicious? Isabella has depression. She can’t handle stress. Are you trying to drive her to death?” Depression. This illness had become Isabella’s free pass in this studio. Because of depression, Isabella could freely take my design drafts and put her name on them. Because of depression, Isabella could monopolize Ethan and Adrian’s time whenever she wanted. I looked at them coldly. “Since she’s so fragile, you two take good care of her. I have things to do. I’m leaving.” I stepped around the coffee spill and walked out of the office without looking back. Behind me came Ethan’s voice, suppressing his rage. “Stella Hart, if you dare walk out that door today, don’t expect us to ever speak to you again!” My steps didn’t falter. Want to speak to me? You lost that right long ago.

Stella Hart POV I went to a law firm. I placed the studio equity transfer agreement in front of the lawyer. “Help me draft a free transfer agreement. I want to split all my shares in the studio equally between Ethan Reid and Adrian Cross.” The lawyer was stunned. “Miss Hart, you founded this studio. All the core design patents are under your name. If you transfer them for free now, you’re essentially leaving with nothing!” “I know,” my tone was calm. “Do as I say. The sooner the better.” This studio was something we founded together after graduating from college. Back then, to secure investment for me, Ethan and Adrian drank until they had bleeding ulcers and ended up in the hospital. From their hospital beds, they held my hand and said, “Stella, this will be your business empire. We’re just knights working for you.” But now, the knights had found a new princess. Walking out of the law firm, the sky opened up with heavy rain. I didn’t have an umbrella and stood under an awning waiting for my car. A black Maybach stopped in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Adrian’s cold, sharp face. “Get in.” His tone was curt, commanding. I didn’t move. “No need. I called a car.” Adrian pushed open the door and yanked me into the vehicle, his movements so rough they hurt my wrist. The cabin had the heat on, but it felt suffocating. “How long are you going to keep this up?” Adrian lit a cigarette and took an irritated drag. “Isabella’s leg got burned. The doctor said it might scar. She’s a girl. Do you know how devastating this is for her?” I looked out at the rain, my voice completely flat. “So what?” “You!” Adrian was infuriated by my cold demeanor. “Stella Hart, you weren’t like this before! You used to be kind and understanding. You’d cry over an injured stray cat. How did you become so heartless?” Kind? Understanding? I found it ironic. When I was twenty, I broke my shin protecting Adrian. Back then, Adrian held me and cried, swearing he’d never let me suffer any grievance for the rest of his life. Now, just because I didn’t help Isabella, who fell on her own, I’d become a heartless villain. “Adrian,” I turned to look at him, my gaze calm, “my main show spot at Paris Fashion Week next month. You gave it to Isabella, didn’t you?” Adrian’s hand holding the cigarette paused, his eyes shifting away. “Isabella needs a chance to prove herself. You’re already a top designer in the industry. You don’t need this one opportunity. Just consider it… compensation for pushing her today.” Compensation. The design drafts I stayed up three nights to create, the show I’d been preparing for an entire year. It all became a casual “compensation.” “Fine.” I didn’t argue, didn’t even show a trace of anger. “Give it to her.” Adrian froze, seemingly not expecting me to agree so easily. He looked at me suspiciously, trying to find some sign of anger or grievance on my face, but there was nothing. Just calm like a stagnant pool of water.

Stella Hart POV The Paris Fashion Week lineup was announced. Isabella’s name replaced mine as the studio’s featured designer. The industry was in an uproar, everyone speculating whether I’d been replaced. I ignored the outside rumors, clocking in and out on time every day, quietly handing off my work. Five days until leaving the country. In the afternoon, the studio held a general meeting. Isabella sat in the main seat that used to be mine, holding my design drafts and offering opinions. “I think this gown’s waistline design is too rigid. It should be changed to cutouts, adding some sexy elements.” Isabella pointed at the blueprints, looking at Ethan delicately. “What do you think?” Ethan smiled indulgently. “Whatever you think is good. Change it according to your ideas.” I sat in the corner, looking down at flight information on my phone, as if none of this concerned me. That gown’s theme was “Salvation of the Deep Sea.” The waistline design was meant to echo the embracing sensation of ocean waves. Changing it to cutouts would destroy the entire concept. But I said nothing. After the meeting ended, Isabella called out to me. “Stella, can you stay and help me modify the blueprints? I’m not very good with that software.” Isabella looked at me with an innocent expression. Ethan frowned and said to me, “Help her out. Don’t let her get too tired.” I raised my head, looked at Ethan’s expression, and said flatly, “I’m off the clock.” “Stella Hart!” Ethan’s voice darkened. “Do you have to be so petty? Isabella is the main show designer now. Her work affects the entire studio’s interests. As an investor, don’t you have any sense of the bigger picture?” “Bigger picture?” I stood up, looking Ethan straight in the eyes. “My sense of the bigger picture is not interfering with the main show designer’s ‘great creations.’ Since she thinks my design is rigid, let her change it herself.” With that, I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. Isabella suddenly rushed over and grabbed my bag, crying. “Stella, don’t go. I know you hate me for taking your position, but I really didn’t mean to. I just want to prove myself…” As we struggled, Isabella suddenly let go, and her whole body fell backward, hitting the glass display case behind her hard. Crash. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the entire office. Isabella’s arm was cut by the broken glass, blood flowing freely. “Isabella!” Ethan and Adrian rushed over like madmen. Adrian shoved me aside, causing me to crash into the sharp corner of the desk. Sharp pain shot through my waist. I grunted, my face turning deathly pale. But Adrian didn’t even glance at me. His eyes red, he picked up Isabella and roared at me, “Stella Hart! If anything happens to Isabella’s hand, I will never forgive you!” Ethan walked last. He stopped, looking down at me clutching my waist and breaking into a cold sweat, his eyes as cold as ice. “You’ve disappointed me too much. Starting today, you don’t need to come to work. Come back when you realize your mistakes.” The office door slammed shut. I leaned against the desk, the pain making even breathing difficult. I slowly rolled up my shirt. My side was already bruised purple over a large area. I didn’t cry. I just took out my phone and sent the lawyer a message. “Is the agreement ready? I’ll come sign it tomorrow.”

Stella Hart POV I went to the hospital alone. After examining me, the doctor said it was severe soft tissue contusion and I needed bed rest. He also prescribed me a pile of medication. Walking out of the hospital entrance, the cold wind hit me and I couldn’t help shivering. My phone vibrated. It was a text from Adrian. He wasn’t asking about my injury. He sent me a bill. “Isabella’s hand needed three stitches. The doctor said she can’t get it wet. Her medical expenses, nutrition costs, and other losses from this injury during this period will be deducted from your salary. Also, publicly apologize to Isabella in the group chat.” Looking at the words on the screen, I found it absurd beyond belief. I opened the group chat that had become “One Happy Family.” Ethan had sent a voice message in it. “Isabella, don’t be afraid. With us here, no one can bully you. Whatever compensation you want, just ask.” Isabella replied with a wronged emoji. “I don’t want anything. I just want Stella to stop hating me.” Adrian immediately transferred her money. “Take this and buy something you like to eat.” I quietly watched them perform in the group, my fingers typing out a sentence on the screen. “I’ll pay the medical expenses. But I will never apologize.” After sending this message, I muted the group chat. Returning home, I started packing. Actually, there wasn’t much to pack. This house was filled with traces left by Ethan and Adrian everywhere. The painting on the wall was something Adrian bought at a high price at an auction. The carpet was specially air-freighted from Turkey by Ethan. Even the mugs in the kitchen were ones the three of us made together at a pottery studio. I found a large garbage bag and threw these things in one by one. At the very end, I found a velvet box in the deepest part of the drawer. Inside were two wills. They were written when they were twenty-two, after they encountered an avalanche in Switzerland and narrowly escaped death. Ethan and Adrian wrote clearly in the wills: If anything happened to them, all their property and shares would unconditionally be inherited by me. “We are Stella’s knights. Even if we die, we’ll be Stella’s guardian angels.” I still remembered those vows. Now they’d become the most ridiculous joke. I took out a lighter and set those two wills on fire. The flames lit up my face. I watched the paper turn to ash, along with my ten years of youth and feelings, burning completely clean. Three days until leaving the country. The next day, I went to the law firm and signed the equity transfer agreement. The lawyer looked at my pale face and couldn’t help advising, “Miss Hart, won’t you reconsider? Once this agreement takes effect, you’ll truly have nothing left at the studio.” “Nothing to reconsider.” I put down the pen, my tone as light as discussing the weather. “Please help me mail this agreement to Ethan Reid and Adrian Cross three days from now.” Three days from now was the day I’d fly to Milan, and also the opening day of the Paris Fashion Week main show. Leaving the law firm, I received a call from Ethan. “What was that you posted in the group last night?” Ethan’s voice was thick with exhaustion and displeasure. “Stella Hart, do you think we won’t actually hurt you? Because of what you said, Isabella cried all night. She couldn’t even take her sleeping pills!” I stood on the street, watching the passing vehicles, my voice cold. “How is her crying related to me?” “You-” Ethan took a deep breath, seemingly forcing down his anger. “Fine, you won’t apologize? Then starting today, the studio is cutting off all your resources and access. You think you’re so great? Let’s see how you survive in this industry without the studio!” I laughed. “Fine.” I hung up and blocked Ethan’s number too. Returning to my apartment, I found the door lock password had been changed. I tried three times. All incorrect. Just then, the door opened from inside. Isabella, wearing my pajamas, held a glass of red wine and smiled at me. “Stella, you’re back.” Isabella swirled her wine glass. “Ethan said you’ve been emotionally unstable lately and was worried something might happen if you lived alone, so he had me move in to keep you company. I changed the password to my birthday. You don’t mind, do you?” I looked at Isabella wearing that limited edition pajama set I’d never worn, my eyes cold to the extreme. “Take it off.” Isabella froze, then bit her lip pitifully. “Stella, don’t be so mean. Adrian got this from your closet for me. He said you never wear it anyway…” “I said take it off!” I stepped forward, my eyes as sharp as knives. Isabella stepped back in fear, deliberately tilting her wine glass so the red liquid instantly splashed onto my white shirt. “Oh no! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” Isabella cried out. Just then, the elevator doors opened. Adrian came out carrying a bunch of things. He dropped everything and rushed over. He pushed Isabella behind him and slapped me. Smack! The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the hallway. My head snapped to the side. Blood trickled from my lip. “Stella, what the hell is wrong with you?” Adrian’s eyes were wild, like an animal backed into a corner. “Isabella just came to check on you, and you hurt her? You really think I won’t hit you?”

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My fiancé Coran is the Alpha heir of Bronzefang pack. The night before the wedding, Coran took me to meet his friends. Throughout the evening, he was attentive to me in every way. His friends all praised him: “Cinnia is so innocent. You really hit the jackpot.” He smiled smugly: “Of course Cinnia is the best. She’s not like those shallow, frivolous women out there.” But when I went to the restroom, I overheard him bragging in a lowered voice outside the door: “Innocent? What’s the use of that? When we have sex, she’s like a dead fish. She can’t compare to Vivian’s passion at all. If she and Vivian weren’t twins who look exactly alike, I wouldn’t even bother touching her.” The next day at the wedding, my sister Vivian showed up with a pregnant belly, and he actually asked me to step aside for them. I laughed coldly, tore off my veil, and walked over to Cedric, who was sitting in a wheelchair below the stage. “Everyone says you like me. I’m single now. Do you dare marry me?” “Hahaha, Cinnia’s lost her mind!” “Choosing a cripple—she’s really desperate!” “Sure, Cedric’s father is the Alpha of Vexmoor pack, but everyone knows he’s never been valued because of his disabled legs. His father doesn’t even acknowledge him as a son. He’s nowhere near Coran’s level!” “How embarrassing! She’s completely humiliated Silthowl pack!” Harsh laughter erupted from the guests at the venue. Each word pierced my heart like a needle. My father’s face turned the color of liver, and my mother rushed onto the stage, gripping my arm tightly. “Are you insane?! Ruining yourself out of spite?!” Below the stage, Coran had his arm around Vivian, a smirk of amusement on his face. “Well, well. I underestimated her. Turns out she’s got some guts.” Vivian giggled mockingly: “Guts? I think she’s lost her mind. Cinnia, are you sure you want to spend your life with a waste of space?” She deliberately caressed her swollen belly, her eyes full of provocation and triumph. My heart felt like it was being viciously torn apart. I thought tearing off the wedding dress would give me freedom, but instead it brought me even greater humiliation. Cedric stood up and limped toward me. Compared to the polished and glamorous Coran, the difference was night and day. I suddenly regretted it. Impulse is the devil. Why did I choose a cripple? Did I really want to spend my life with him? Cedric stopped in front of me and pulled a ring from his pocket. The surface was set with tiny diamonds, dull and lifeless, not even a carat. The diamond ring Coran gave Vivian was a full three carats, sparkling brilliantly. In comparison, this ring looked pitifully shabby. The mocking laughter below grew louder. “Hahaha, even the ring is pathetic!” “Cinnia, are you really willing to settle for this?” Tears nearly fell from my eyes. When had I ever suffered such humiliation in my entire life? But when Cedric took my hand, I froze. His hand was warm and steady. “I dare.” Two words, spoken with certainty. Not like Coran’s honeyed lies, not like the guests’ cold mockery. Just two simple words, yet they made my heart tremble. “Are you sure? I might bring you trouble.” “I’m not afraid.” He didn’t hesitate for a second. The mocking laughter below grew even louder. “Two losers make a perfect pair!” “A cripple and a crazy woman—perfect match!” Coran called out loudly: “Cinnia, stop being childish. Come back. The baby in Vivian’s belly needs a father, and you need a whole man.” A whole man? I laughed coldly. What kind of whole man was Coran? Betrayal, deception, playing with sisters’ feelings—was that his version of being whole? Coran and I were fated mates. We fell in love shortly after meeting, and because we were both descendants of Alphas, marriage would benefit the cooperation between our packs, so we quickly confirmed our engagement. When our families got engaged, I introduced him to my sister Vivian. Coran was very interested in Vivian at the time. Coran said: “I’ve never seen twin sisters before, so I’m curious.” Later, during several dates with Coran, he kept asking me to bring Vivian along. Now that I think about it, the two of them must have hooked up back then. I looked at Cedric. His legs might be disabled, but his werewolf bloodline wasn’t, and his heart certainly wasn’t. “Alright. I’m willing.” I extended my hand and let him place that dull ring on my finger. The ring was small and fit perfectly, as if it had been custom-made for me. The crowd below erupted in uproar.

The contempt on Coran’s face instantly turned to fury. He strode over and grabbed my wrist. The force felt like it could crush my bones. “Cinnia, you’d rather choose a cripple to disgust me than beg me?” Before I could react, my father rushed over. I thought he was going to stop Coran and protect me. Instead, he raised his hand and delivered a resounding slap. “Smack!” The crisp sound exploded throughout the entire wedding venue. My cheek instantly swelled red and burned with pain. Blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. The mocking laughter in the hall came to an abrupt halt, then erupted into even more piercing whispers. “Cinnia! You’ve humiliated all of Silthowl pack! Get back here right now!” There wasn’t a trace of heartache in my father’s eyes, only anger and disgust. I covered my face, tears threatening to spill. Not because of the pain, but because of the icy coldness in my heart. This man was my father, the Alpha of Silthowl pack. At this moment, Vivian stepped forward with false concern. “Dad, Cinnia was just being impulsive. Don’t get too upset…” As she spoke, she “accidentally” stepped hard on my foot with her high heel. The piercing pain made me instantly lose my balance. She then pretended to lose her footing and slammed her shoulder hard into me. I stumbled and fell to the ground. The pristine white wedding dress was instantly stained with blood from my mouth. The guests below began pointing and whispering. “The older daughter is a lunatic. At least the younger one is sensible.” “Good thing Coran chose the right person.” Vivian smugly caressed her belly, her eyes full of provocation. Cedric tried to help me, but Coran’s friends held him back firmly. “What are you? You think you’re worthy of touching her?” Coran sneered. I lay on the floor, looking at his anxious but powerless face. A despair worse than physical pain surged through my heart. Was this the man I chose? He couldn’t even protect me. Coran looked down at me from above, his eyes full of triumph. “Cinnia, see clearly now? This is your choice. A waste who can’t even stand steady—how can he protect you?” He crouched down and reached out to pull me up. “Be good. Come back. I can let bygones be bygones and pretend none of this happened.” This man had called me a dead fish to his friends just last night. Now he was putting on a show of deep affection. Disgusting. I used all my strength to violently shake off his hand. “Get lost!” Coran’s face instantly darkened. “You don’t know what’s good for you.” He stood up and kicked the wedding dress beside me. “Since you’re so cheap, go ahead and be with your cripple. But don’t regret it!”

Seeing this, my father stepped forward again. “Cinnia, apologize right now!” My mother also rushed over, crying. “Cinnia, have you lost your mind? Ruining your whole life out of spite?” The guests below watched the show, pointing and whispering. “Cinnia has really gone crazy.” “Choosing a cripple out of spite—how desperate do you have to be?” “What did Silthowl pack do to deserve such a daughter?” Vivian walked over at just the right moment, her belly prominent. “Cinnia, calm down. Even though we have our misunderstandings, Coran truly loves you. Look at Cedric—he can’t even protect you. Is he really suitable for you to entrust your life to?” Her words were cutting, each one aimed at the heart. I lay on the ground, feeling malice coming at me from all directions. My parents’ disappointment. My ex-boyfriend’s mockery. My sister’s provocation. The guests’ ridicule. And… the powerlessness of the man I had chosen. Did I really make the wrong choice? At that moment, Cedric finally broke free from those who were blocking him. He limped toward me, each step difficult. He crouched down and gently helped me up. “I’m sorry for letting you suffer.” Then he turned his head and looked at Coran. “You’re right. I really can’t protect you.” My heart instantly sank to the bottom. Was even he going to give up on me? But the next second, he said: “But at least, I won’t hurt you.” He looked at everyone below the stage. “You mock her for going crazy, for choosing me out of spite. But have you considered what would drive a woman to make such a choice on her wedding day?” The entire hall fell silent. “It’s betrayal. It’s deception. It’s harm from those closest to her.” “My legs may be crippled, but my character is upright. I may not be able to give her the best material life, but I can give her the truest feelings.” Coran’s face turned ashen. “Stop with the emotional manipulation! You’re just a waste. What right do you have…” “What right do I have?” Cedric interrupted him. “I have the right to love her. What about you?” “Enough with the sappy talk. Friends, throw him out.” With that, Coran and his friends kicked Cedric out of the wedding venue. My mother finally moved. Not to help me up, but to yank me from the ground. Before I could react, Vivian had already grabbed my other arm. “Mom, what are you doing!” I struggled, but the two of them were stronger than me. “Shut up! You’ve embarrassed us enough already!” They dragged me toward the back of the stage. The guests below watched this scene, some pulling out their phones to record. “Let me go! Are you crazy!” I struggled hard, but Vivian took the opportunity to viciously pinch my waist. The sharp pain instantly robbed me of the strength to resist. They dragged me to a storage room backstage filled with clutter. “Bang!” The door slammed shut heavily, followed by the sound of a key turning.

I rushed to the door like a madwoman, pounding on it hard. “Open the door! What right do you have to lock me up! Open the door!” Outside, Coran’s amplified voice came through. He held a microphone, his voice spreading throughout the hall via the speakers. “Dear guests, I apologize for that little episode earlier.” “Now, my former fiancée who rejected me is in the storage room backstage reflecting. What do you all think—when will she come to her senses?” Raucous laughter erupted from below. “Coran is so funny!” “This is more exciting than watching a movie!” “That woman deserves it!” I had become the openly displayed joke of this wedding. My phone vibrated. I took it out and saw a message from my mother. “Cinnia, stop making a scene. Your sister’s happiness is what matters most. Just apologize to Coran and this whole thing will be over.” I stared at the words on the screen. My sister’s happiness is what matters most. What about me? Doesn’t my happiness matter? Doesn’t my dignity matter? Do I deserve to be humiliated, locked up, treated as a joke? The music outside grew louder. Coran and Vivian began to dance. The guests’ applause and cheers grew wave after wave. And I, like garbage, was locked in this dark corner. My phone vibrated again. This time it was from Vivian. “Cinnia, I know you’re angry right now. But think about it—Coran is so excellent, he deserves better. Just stop being stubborn, okay?” I slid down along the door and curled up into a ball. The physical pain, my family’s betrayal, my lover’s humiliation, and the departure of the person who said he would protect me—all of it pushed me into a bottomless abyss. I didn’t even have the strength to cry anymore. So be it. Let them mock me. Let them gloat. I have nothing left anyway. Coran’s voice came from outside: “Everyone, now for the most exciting part. Let’s go see if our former fiancée has come to her senses yet!” Footsteps drew closer. The sound of the key turning rang out. The door opened, and blinding light flooded in. Coran stood in the doorway, followed by a crowd of guests, all holding up their phones to record. “Cinnia, how’s your thinking going? Ready to apologize?” I raised my head, about to speak. Suddenly, the main door of the wedding venue was violently pushed open. A group of people burst in. Cedric stood at the entrance, followed by dozens of imposing bodyguards in black. The entire hall instantly fell silent. Everyone froze, including Coran. Cedric took off his suit jacket and strode toward me. His leg was still crippled. He draped the jacket over me, then without a word, scooped me up in his arms. “What are you doing! Put her down!” Coran finally snapped out of it. Cedric didn’t even glance at him. In that moment, I felt like I had come back to life. “Cedric, you think you can turn the tables with a crippled leg and a few men?” Coran was furious with humiliation. At that moment, a well-dressed middle-aged man stepped forward. He held a document in his hand and threw it directly in Coran’s face. “Mr. Coran, from this moment on, 35% of Bronzefang pack’s resources belong to Cedric. Your company has gone bankrupt, and you have been stripped of your position as Alpha heir by your father.”

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The moment I found out I was pregnant, I couldn’t wait to share the news with my Special Forces husband, Ethan Walker. But as soon as the call connected, he told me he’d received an urgent mission and had to leave immediately for preliminary reconnaissance. And just like that, he vanished without a trace. Two years later, Ethan’s mother begged me through her tears to remarry. But I firmly believed he was still alive. I raised our son Lucas alone, waiting for him to come home. Ten years later, I was called to the school by my son’s teacher, Miss Smith. At the office door, I saw a familiar silhouette. He was gently comforting a crying little girl in his arms. “Don’t cry, Zoe. Daddy already taught that bad boy Lucas a lesson.” But the girl pouted and pounded her little fists against his chest in protest. “You’re a bad daddy! You didn’t even scold him, and you won’t let me cry!” So Ethan Walker was really alive after all! He just had a new family now. Miss Smith heard the commotion and walked over, intimately linking her arm through his as she smiled at me. “Serena, this is my husband, Professor Walker.” I looked up and met Ethan Walker’s shocked, stunned eyes.

Ten years—time had been exceptionally kind to him. Except for the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, he was still the tall, handsome man I remembered. Only now, from head to toe, there was no trace of the man who used to be covered in mud, wearing camouflage fatigues. The way he looked at me—shocked, flustered, even frightened. My stomach churned, and the familiar taste of rust flooded my throat. I dug my nails hard into the web of my hand to keep myself from losing control on the spot. Ten years ago, it had been an afternoon just like this. Holding the pregnancy test with its two red lines, I’d been so excited that I immediately called Ethan. His voice had sounded tired but still gentle. “What’s wrong, baby?” I took a deep breath, about to speak, when the sharp sound of an assembly whistle came through his end. “I’ve got an urgent mission. I have to leave right now for preliminary reconnaissance.” “I might lose contact for a while. Wait for me to come back.” *Wait for me to come back.* Those words became my only comfort through ten long years of waiting. But what I got instead was a death notification two years later. Ethan’s mother cried and begged me to remarry while I was still young, to find a good man. But I didn’t believe it. I refused to believe that the man who promised to stay with me forever would be willing to leave me behind. I even wondered if maybe he didn’t know about the pregnancy, if that regret was what kept him from returning. So I stubbornly gave birth to our son and named him Lucas. Day after day, night after night, I thought of him and longed for him. I believed that as long as I waited, he would eventually come back. Now, he was back. With a woman who shared an intimate bond with him, and an adorable daughter. “Serena?” My son’s teacher, Jennifer Smith, smiled warmly, though there was a hint of showing off in her expression. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” Her hand on Ethan’s arm tightened, as if asserting her ownership. Ethan glanced at Jennifer’s hand on his arm, then looked at me. The little girl in his arms—the one called Zoe—was staring at me curiously with eyes that were identical to his. My chest felt unbearably tight. I forced myself to calm down and smiled slightly. “No, just a bit of low blood sugar.” “Oh, you should really take care of yourself,” Jennifer said with concern, then changed the subject. “Actually, I called you in today because Lucas got into a fight with our Zoe.” “Kids will be kids, but Lucas pushed Zoe down and she hit her forehead. That’s not a small matter.”

I looked at the little girl. There was indeed a cartoon Band-Aid on her forehead. “If Lucas was wrong, I apologize on his behalf. The medical expenses—” “No need for medical expenses.” Ethan finally spoke. He avoided my gaze, looking elsewhere. “Kids roughhousing, it happens.” His defense was for his daughter. But what about my son? My Lucas had a bruise on his lip too. I looked away awkwardly, unable to stay any longer. “Miss Smith, I’ll take Lucas home now. I’ll make sure to discipline him properly.” As soon as I finished speaking, I turned and fled. Behind me, Jennifer’s gentle voice rang out again: “Ethan, let’s take Zoe out for her favorite Italian food tonight. Consider it making it up to her.” My steps faltered. Italian food. When we were dating, Italian food was my favorite. Back then, Ethan had taken me to every Italian restaurant in the city, just to let me taste the freshest clams. He had once said: “When this mission is over, I’ll take you to Tuscany and let you eat to your heart’s content.” So his promises hadn’t gone unfulfilled—he’d just fulfilled them for someone else. As I left the building, my phone buzzed. The name “Sebastian White” flashed on the screen. I answered, and his warm voice came through. “Serena, don’t forget your follow-up appointment tomorrow.” When I got home, Lucas sat sullenly on the couch, the bruise on his lip looking even more obvious. I knelt down and dabbed ointment on it with a cotton swab. He hissed in pain but still looked up at me with his small face, watching me carefully. “Mom, that man today looked just like Dad in the photo.” My hand froze. In the photo, Ethan wore his uniform, standing tall and handsome with a smile in his eyes. Lucas had been calling that picture “Daddy” since he was little. I swallowed the bitter ache in my heart, ruffled his hair, and said softly: “Silly boy, people can look alike. There are plenty of people in the world who resemble each other.” He nodded as if he understood, then muttered quietly: “Mom, do I not have a dad?” Children speak without filters, yet every word pierced my heart. I pulled him tightly into my arms, my chin resting on his soft hair, my voice choked: “You do. Your dad is a hero. He’s in a faraway place protecting us.” This was the lie I’d been telling him for nine years. Before, I had truly believed it. Now, it seemed more like a joke. After settling Lucas to sleep, I dragged my exhausted body into the bathroom. I closed the door, turned on the shower, and let the water pour over me, soaking through my clothes. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I crouched down. Ten years of suppressed grief and pain exploded in that moment. I bit down on my arm to muffle my sobs. Why? Ethan Walker, why did you do this to me? Do you know what those ten years were like for me? For the first two years after you disappeared, I frantically searched for any information about you. I begged everyone I could contact, and the answer was always “no news.” The little life growing inside me was my only hope. When I was six months pregnant, I was diagnosed with cervical cancer. The doctor urged me to terminate the pregnancy and begin treatment immediately. I refused. This was the only connection left between you and me. I couldn’t bear to let go. I hid it from everyone and stubbornly chose the most conservative treatment plan, just so he could be born safely.

The day of my C-section, I hemorrhaged and nearly died. The doctor said it was a miracle I survived. After surgery, I began a long course of chemotherapy. My hair fell out in clumps. I vomited until I thought my bile would come up. Every single time, I wanted to give up. But thinking of Lucas, thinking that you might still be alive somewhere in this world, I gritted my teeth and held on. Until that death notification arrived. I completely fell apart. It was Sebastian. My attending physician, and also my senior from college, who had quietly stayed by my side all along. He connected me with the best specialists and designed the most suitable treatment plan for me. He even secretly paid my medical bills when I was at my most desperate. He played the role of a father in Lucas’s life. He said: “Serena, you have to live. For Lucas, and for yourself.” I lived. With a body full of illness, I raised our son alone. I thought suffering would eventually pass. But you delivered the most devastating blow. You were alive. So what was that death notification about? Or was it all deliberate? If it was the latter, what did my ten years of waiting and devotion mean? I was like a clown, performing a solo act for ten long years. The next day, after dropping Lucas off at school, I went straight to the hospital. Sebastian looked grave as he held my latest test results. “Serena, it’s not looking good.” He pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up and sighed. “The cancer cells in your body are spreading faster. The previous medications can’t control it anymore.” I had expected this result. The increasingly frequent pain had been warning me. The time bomb buried in my body was about to explode. I asked calmly: “How long do I have?” Sebastian was silent for a moment before forcing out the words: “If we don’t switch to a more aggressive chemotherapy regimen, at most… six months.” Six months. My life had only six months left. “Then let’s switch.” I looked at him and forced a smile. “Sebastian, thank you for everything these years.” He looked at me with pain in his eyes, reaching out as if to pat my shoulder, but his hand froze in midair. “Serena, you—” He wanted to say something, but was interrupted by an abrupt female voice. “Serena?” I turned around to see Jennifer Smith standing at the office door. “Yes, Miss Smith.” I responded flatly. Sebastian sensed something was wrong and frowned. “And this is?” “I’m Lucas’s homeroom teacher.” “Ethan Walker’s current wife.” I added that last part. “Serena, there’s something I think you should know.” Jennifer pulled me out of the office. We sat down on a bench in a quiet corner. Sebastian stayed at a distance, worried. “Ethan and I were each other’s first loves. We separated for a while, but when we met again ten years ago, we quickly got back together.” “The day he told you about the mission, I told him I was pregnant.” “My father pulled strings and arranged everything for him. All he had to do in return was abandon you.” My brain went blank with a buzz. So that’s how it was. “Why would you do this?” I looked at her in disbelief. “Because I love him. Love means doing whatever it takes, doesn’t it?” “Besides, I was just taking back what was rightfully mine.” “And the facts prove he made the right choice, don’t they?” Jennifer’s smile deepened as she looked at my ashen face.

So I was just someone to fill the void during his heartbreak. So that day, he became a father to two children. So when it came to pregnancy, I was the one who could be abandoned, while she was naturally the one to be protected. I laughed out loud. I stood up shakily. Warm liquid rapidly flowed from my nose. “Serena!” Sebastian cried out and rushed over, holding me and pressing against my nose. He glared furiously at Jennifer. “Miss, please stop provoking her and leave immediately!” Jennifer looked frightened by the situation, repeating over and over: “This has nothing to do with me, nothing to do with me.” Then she turned and left, her heels clicking. The blood wouldn’t stop. It flowed through my fingers, staining Sebastian’s sleeve red. When I left the hospital, I walked home in a daze. Jennifer’s words kept echoing in my mind. “My father pulled strings and arranged everything for him.” “All he had to do was abandon you.” So by throwing me away, he could live the life he wanted. Clearly, for these ten years, I was the one who was discarded. Yet here I was, waiting so desperately. My life was a joke. When I reached the entrance to my apartment complex, a familiar figure blocked my path. It was Ethan Walker. He looked like he’d been waiting for a long time, with several cigarette butts scattered at his feet. Seeing me, he immediately stubbed out the cigarette in his hand. He quickly walked up, his voice sounding guilty. “Serena, we need to talk.” I looked at this well-dressed university professor before me. He gradually overlapped with the man in military uniform from my memory, then slowly separated again. “What is there left for us to talk about?” “I know you hate me, that you blame me. But Serena, please let me explain.” He took a deep breath. “Back then, Jennifer really was pregnant. Her father came to me and gave me two choices.” “One was to continue my original life, risking death on any mission, and he had plenty of ways to make us live in fear forever.” “The other was to accept his arrangement and have a stable future.” He stepped forward, trying to grab my hand, pleading: “Serena, I struggled for a long time.” “I thought I was protecting you. I didn’t want you to live in constant fear with me.” “I sent money home every month. I told them to let you find a good man and start a new life.” So his parents had known all along. I could only say their performance had been all too convincing. “As for Jennifer, we’re only together for the child. All these years, I’ve only felt responsibility toward her.” His explanation sounded even more laughable. “Only responsibility?” “You enjoy the life she’s given you while saying it’s only for the child, only responsibility?” “When you were heartbroken, you seamlessly moved on to me, and not long after we got married, you rekindled things with your first love.” Ethan’s face turned deathly pale. “Do you know that the day I called you, I had just found out I was pregnant!” “I didn’t even get the chance to tell you. And you? For the sake of your bright future, you decisively abandoned me.” “Your parents never gave me a single penny. I was kicked out!”

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My husband Ethan insisted he had a serious illness and needed money for surgery—$200,000 short. I got a job as a singer at a nightclub, performing until 2 AM every night. One day I was called to sing in the VIP suite on the top floor. I pushed the door open to find a circle of people through the smoke. Ethan had his arm around a woman’s waist, head thrown back in laughter. The second his laughter stopped, he saw me standing in the doorway. He released Luna, the cigarette frozen between his fingers. “What are you doing here?” “I’m here singing to earn money. Money for your treatment.” The corner of Ethan’s mouth twitched. He didn’t respond. Luna spoke up first: “Didn’t Ethan divorce you ages ago? I heard you’re a terrible singer. Where do you get the confidence to sell your voice here?” The people in the room laughed. He didn’t stop them. Luna stood up and walked over to me, lowering her voice: “Actually, half the money you earn singing gets transferred to my account. I’m pregnant with his child. Consider this money your gift to the baby.” I nodded and picked up the microphone. “What song would you like?”

“One hundred per song. Charged by the song.” My voice was so steady even I found it unfamiliar. Someone jeered and requested a love song. I opened my mouth and sang, not missing a single note. Ethan raised his glass to his lips but never actually drank. Luna leaned against his shoulder, smiling as she spoke. “Not bad. Though singing love songs in a place like this is kind of pathetic.” I finished the last song, set down the microphone, and headed for the door. In the hallway, my coworker Fiona handed me six hundred dollars. “Mr. Reed’s table didn’t settle the tab.” I counted it and put it in my pocket. Fiona saw my expression and handed me a bottle of water. “Melody, if you can’t handle this, don’t force yourself.” I twisted open the cap and took a sip. “I can handle it.” Ethan came after me, grabbing my wrist. “You don’t need to work in a place like this.” His tone was condescending, irritating. I looked down at his hand, tightly circling my wrist. “Don’t you need $30,000 a day for hospital fees? I haven’t saved enough yet.” His pupils contracted. I was too calm. So calm that all his prepared lines fell flat. He ground out through clenched teeth: “I’m not sick. You must know that by now.” I looked up at him. “Yes, I know.” This calmness provoked his anger, his voice dropping lower and harder. “Luna is pregnant with my child. Either you accept her moving in, or you sign the divorce papers. Give me your answer within a week.” I slowly pulled my wrist from his grip, the movement gentle. “Okay, I’ll think about it.” I turned and walked away, my pace neither fast nor slow. In the backstage changing room, my fingers started to tremble. I shoved my hands into my pockets and clenched them into fists to hide the shaking. I remembered the day I gave Ethan the antique bracelet my grandmother left me. I slid the bracelet off my wrist and placed it in his hand. My hand had trembled that time too. Not from heartache, but from fear he’d notice how reluctant I was and feel guilty about it. Later he told me the secondhand shop only gave him eighty thousand. Now I knew—Ethan had given it to the woman pregnant with his child. I got home at 2 AM. Sitting on the edge of the bed eating pasta, I looked down and saw the silver ring on my ring finger stuck at the knuckle, unable to come off. I twisted it a few times. It wouldn’t budge. I went to the bathroom and ran it under cold water. The ring finally slipped off, dropping into the sink with a soft clink. I fished it out, dried it, and put it in a drawer. No hesitation. No second look. My phone lit up. Ethan sent a message: Stop working at the nightclub. I stared at it for a long time. Stop working at the nightclub—not because he felt bad for me, but because he found it embarrassing. I locked the screen without replying. The next day I went to the dance center as usual to teach children piano. A five-year-old girl hit a wrong note and looked up at me timidly. I bent down and smiled, saying it was okay, take your time. I maintained that smile until the bell rang and the last parent picked up their child. The second I stepped out of the classroom, every expression vanished from my face. I saw Luna. She stood at the entrance of the dance studio, holding a bag of fruit. “Miss Harper, Ethan said you’ve been working hard lately. I came to check on you.” She casually glanced at my coat, her lips curving slightly. I didn’t take the fruit. Her eyes immediately reddened, her voice fragile enough to be scattered by the wind. “Don’t blame me. He pursued me. I refused many times, but…” She touched her lower abdomen. “The child is innocent.”

I didn’t look at her stomach. My gaze fell on her right wrist. A bracelet. The one my grandmother passed down to me. I thought Ethan had sold it for treatment money. Now it rested securely around another woman’s wrist. Luna followed my gaze and unhurriedly touched the bracelet. “Oh, this? Ethan gave it to me. He said it’s an antique and told me to be careful with it.” I stared at the bracelet for three seconds. “He’s right. It is an antique. Be careful not to break it.” I turned and left. I rented a small apartment and moved out of what used to be my home that very night. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I opened my phone’s photo album. I touched his smiling face on the screen with my thumb, then placed the phone face-down on the bed. Something cracked open in my chest. I pressed my hand against it, not letting any sound escape my throat. On the third day, Ethan asked me to meet at a coffee shop. When he walked in, I was already sitting in the corner, the Americano in front of me untouched. He sat down and pushed a document toward me. “Sign it. You get five hundred thousand. That’s enough.” I laughed coldly. “I sold my family heirlooms and gave you $600,000 total. You’re dismissing me with five hundred thousand.” He frowned. “Those old things of yours were appraised and aren’t worth that much…” “Grandma’s bracelet—you had Luna wear it on her wrist. And my mother’s ring too.” His fingers tapped the table twice. For a moment he avoided my eyes. He glanced out the window, then quickly looked back. “The past is past. Sign. I’m not shortchanging you.” I didn’t sign. As I stood to leave, I left the untouched Americano behind. “I’ll think about it some more.” He called out behind me. “Melody Harper, are you reluctant to let go of this marriage, or just your pride? People already know you’re singing at nightclubs. Your students’ parents will hear about it sooner or later. When that happens, you won’t even be able to teach. Have you thought about the consequences?” I stopped, my back to him. “Are you threatening me?” Two seconds of silence. He didn’t answer. I pushed the door open and left. That night Fiona booked five rooms. By the third room my voice was already hoarse. I sipped some honey water and continued. Fiona leaned against the backstage doorframe watching me. “If you don’t rest that voice, you won’t even be able to speak clearly, let alone sing.” “Fiona, how many more rooms today?” The fourth room was full of Ethan’s friends. Someone recognized me. They raised their glass halfway, then stopped, whispering to the person next to them. Then came a knowing laugh. I gripped the microphone tighter and finished the entire song. As I left the room, my knees buckled. I braced myself against the hallway wall. Fiona caught up and squeezed the bulging veins on the back of my hand. “When was the last time you ate a proper meal?” “I ate at lunch.” “You only had two pieces of toast.” She handed me a sandwich. When I got back to the apartment in the early morning, there was a takeout bag by the door. Inside was a burger and mushroom soup, still warm. This was from the place Ethan always ordered from. I picked up the mushroom soup and took a sip. The warm liquid rolled into my stomach, wrapping the hollow space with a layer of warmth. My eyes suddenly stung unbearably. I set the bowl down abruptly and pressed the back of my hand hard against my eyes, holding it there for over ten seconds. The heat subsided. I picked up the bowl again and finished it sip by sip. This was his cruelest trait. When he hurt me, he was decisive and cold. But then he’d casually offer a little warmth, leaving me unable to tell which version was really him.

On the fourth day I went to the bank to withdraw money. The balance on the ATM screen froze at $347. I stood in front of the machine staring at those numbers. Nothing left. Walking out of the bank, I received a call from an unknown number. The caller claimed to be Luna’s best friend. “There are some things you should hear.” At the coffee shop, the woman who called herself Nina wore designer clothes, coffee cup in hand. “Melody, do you think Ethan just made a momentary mistake?” She pulled out her phone and pushed a screenshot of a chat log toward me. Ethan told Luna: “Give me a little more time. I’ll handle her.” The date was three months ago, even earlier than when he told me he was sick. I finished reading the screenshot without saying anything. She put her phone away. “Luna told me that Ethan stopped loving you a long time ago. Marrying you was just an impulse. After meeting Luna, he finally understood what real love feels like.” She lowered her voice, her fingernail tapping the table. “Stop dragging this out. It’s better for everyone.” I stood up. “Thank you for telling me.” Walking out of the coffee shop, I stood by a lamppost for a long time. Three months ago, he said he’d get me a proper ring for my birthday this year. On the fifth day, I went to find Marcus Smith. He was helping in the kitchen of his new restaurant. When he saw me come in, he froze. “Melody? How did you… you’ve lost so much weight.” No small talk. I asked directly. “Ethan faking his illness—how much do you know?” Marcus dropped the cloth in his hand. As he bent to pick it up, he avoided my eyes. “…Who told you?” I didn’t answer, just looked at him. He wouldn’t say much, but his mouth moved faster than his brain, mumbling out: “Ethan didn’t come up with this idea himself. That woman Luna…” Before he could finish, his phone rang. Ethan’s name popped up. Marcus answered the call. His expression changed. He glanced at me and hung up hastily. “Melody, go home. Stay out of this.” Not his own idea. If someone pushed him into it, why didn’t he tell me? Didn’t I even deserve to be treated honestly? On the sixth day, one day before the deadline, Ethan sent a message: Tonight at 7, the usual place. Bring your answer. The usual place was a Japanese restaurant we frequented. When I arrived, he was already seated. “You still remember I love salmon.” His tone was flat, revealing no emotion. Always the same trick—offering a knife with one hand and candy with the other, leaving me unable to tell if he had a heart or not. “I don’t agree to the divorce. You faked illness and deceived me for three months, spending all my savings. What you owe me can’t be settled with a piece of paper and five hundred thousand.” My attitude was firm. His face darkened, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “You think dragging this out benefits you? Everyone knows you’re singing at nightclubs now. Your students’ parents will find out any minute. Have you thought about the consequences?” This sentence struck my softest spot. The restaurant door opened. Luna walked in with two of Ethan’s friends, her tone perfectly surprised. “Oh my, Ethan, you’re here? We were passing by and saw your car.” Her gaze swept to me, immediately switching to anxiety and retreat. She turned to Ethan, eyes brimming with tears, voice so delicate it was nauseating. “Didn’t you say you were working late tonight? I even brought you some pastries at the office…” The two friends’ gazes bounced between Ethan and me. Ethan paused for a moment. He looked at me, then at Luna. He stood up, walked to Luna’s side, and draped his coat over her shoulders. “It’s cold outside. Go home first.” He protected her in front of everyone, then turned to me and said: “I’ve said everything I needed to say. Let me know when you’ve decided.” Then he walked out supporting Luna. Through the closing door, I heard her say softly outside: “Ethan, I really didn’t mean to come here. Don’t be angry…” His response was just two words. “It’s fine.”

Early on the seventh day, I went to the dance center to teach as usual. When I opened the piano room door, the director was already inside waiting. “Miss Harper, three parents called yesterday to complain, saying you work at nightclubs. This is a children’s training center. The parents have concerns. Take some time off.” My fingers tightened on the edge of my lesson plan. I nodded. I pulled my teaching materials from under the piano bench and took out a box of candy the children had given me last week from the drawer. Walking out of the piano room, a parent in the hallway who was dropping off their child pulled the child’s hand and deliberately went around me. I knew how the complaints came about. But too many people had handed over knives. I couldn’t tell who was who anymore, and I didn’t want to. My last financial pillar had collapsed. I went to three places looking for work. The supermarket cashier position wasn’t hiring. The restaurant kitchen had me try out that day. I washed dishes for five hours until my hands were so waterlogged you couldn’t see the fingerprints. The housekeeping company said I could train first, but I had to pay a three-hundred-dollar deposit. My entire net worth: three hundred forty-seven dollars. When I left the restaurant, it was raining. I didn’t have an umbrella, so I stood under an awning waiting. A black sedan stopped by the roadside. The window lowered halfway. Ethan looked at my swollen, pale hands and rain-dampened hair. His brow furrowed. “Get in the car.” I didn’t move. He got out and held the umbrella over me. “Melody Harper, why put yourself through this? Sign the papers, take the money, and move on. You don’t have to suffer like this.” He didn’t feel bad about me suffering. He just found my suffering an eyesore. I walked out from under his umbrella into the rain. “Ethan, you faked illness for three months and made me earn money for you.” “I sold all my heirlooms, and you gave them to another woman.” “And now you’re telling me I don’t have to suffer like this?” Rain ran down my eyelashes. I couldn’t tell if it was rain or something else. But my voice made him take half a step back. “You didn’t choose the rules. But if you want to end this, fine. Except this time, I set the terms.” He reached out to pull me back. I stepped aside to avoid him. His hand froze in midair for two seconds, then slowly lowered. That night, Professor Helen Wade called. “Melody, check online right now. Someone posted a video of you singing at the nightclub.” I opened the link. A secretly filmed video: Award-winning piano teacher reduced to nightclub singer—the truth behind the story is heartbreaking. The comments section exploded. Some cursed me for having no self-respect, some mocked the pianist turned hostess, some dug up my old award photos and put them side by side with current footage for comparison. I read all the comments and turned off my phone. My body was trembling, but my face showed no expression. Fiona sent a message: “Melody, the video wasn’t leaked by anyone from our club. I’m investigating. Don’t come to work. Lay low for a while.” My last source of income was gone too. Early the next morning, Luna sent me a message. “Melody, those comments online are too harsh. I already had Ethan take care of it. Don’t take it to heart. Do you want to come stay at the house? I prepared the guest room for you.” The house. She was talking about what used to be my home. Guest room. I was being invited to stay in the guest room of my own house. I put down my phone and walked into the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. I’d lost nearly twenty pounds. I barely recognized the person in the mirror. Ethan called, his voice unusually urgent. “I had the video deleted. Are you okay?” “Ethan, did you have someone post it?” Three seconds of silence on the other end. I waited for those three seconds. “Whether it was you or not, thank you for deleting it.” I hung up. Those three seconds of silence were the answer. He probably didn’t post it, but he didn’t stop it either. That night I opened my phone’s photo album and scrolled from the first picture to the last. All photos related to Ethan. Photos of us together, him secretly photographing me playing piano, me photographing him sleeping, selfies of us toasting at a small restaurant. Over two hundred photos. Select all. Delete. The photos disappeared one by one. After clearing my phone, the screen was so clean there wasn’t a trace left. I opened my messages and sent Ethan one final text. “I agree to the divorce.” I also took out the silver ring from the drawer and left a note: “Returning this to you!”

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I bought a pair of novelty handcuffs. While trying them on, the key fell into the crack of the bed, and I had no choice but to call 91 The door was forced open, and fully equipped firefighters burst into my bedroom. The captain leading them turned out to be my ex-boyfriend, whom I had dumped. He saw me wearing a lace dress with pitifully little fabric, my hands locked to the headboard with pink fluffy handcuffs, in an extremely suggestive position. The young team member beside him blushed, stammering: “C-Captain, this requires hydraulic cutters…” My ex raised his hand to stop him, his gaze scraping across my exposed skin like a blade. He walked to the bedside, looking down at me from above, his chest heaving violently, his voice so cold it could freeze: “Quite the games you play, Ares. Where’s the bastard? Did he handcuff you here and run off after pulling up his pants?” 1. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. My hands cuffed to the headboard instinctively clenched, the metal core of the pink fluffy handcuffs digging viciously into my wrist bones. It hurt. But nowhere near as much as the shock of seeing Gustavo’s face. He stood there looking down at me, his firefighting combat gear still covered with wood splinters from breaking down the door, his helmet tucked under his arm, his whole body carrying the cold wind from outside. His features still had that devastating quality. Sharp brows, high nose bridge, a jawline sharp enough to cut your finger. Only those eyes—three years ago when he looked at me, they held entire galaxies. Now they contained only murderous ice. “C-Captain, these handcuffs are novelty ones, there’s no keyhole, we need hydraulic cutters…” Behind him, young team member Kane, blushing to the roots of his neck, held a toolbox, his voice shaking like a sieve. His gaze clearly didn’t know where to land. Well, anyone would be stunned to see a woman wearing a black lace slip dress, hands locked to an iron headboard with pink fluffy handcuffs, positioned like a sacrificial lamb. Especially when that woman was their captain’s ex-girlfriend. Gustavo didn’t turn around. He reached out, snatched the hydraulic cutters from Kane’s hand, then slowly turned back. That look made my spine run cold. It wasn’t the look you give a person. It was the look you give prey. “Everyone out.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was like a knife stabbing into cotton—muffled and vicious. Kane froze: “Captain, this isn’t really regulation…” “I said, everyone out.” Gustavo didn’t raise his voice the second time, but his tone carried an additional layer of unquestionable coldness. The team members behind him exchanged glances, but ultimately left with their heads down. The bedroom door slammed shut, cutting off all sound. The entire world shrank to this space of a few square meters, leaving only him and me. I heard my own heartbeat, racing like it would explode. Gustavo set the hydraulic cutters on the nightstand. He didn’t immediately unlock me. He turned and knelt on the bed with one knee. The mattress sank sharply under his weight, and I slid uncontrollably toward his side. The strap of my lace slip dress slipped off my left shoulder. I bit down hard, desperately trying to pull it up with my cuffed hands, but couldn’t reach it. Gustavo’s gaze slowly moved down from my exposed collarbone, sliding past what the slip dress barely covered, finally settling on my legs that I was trying to press together. He reached out. Five fingers, one by one, closed around my ankle. His palm was burning hot, his knuckles rough—calluses earned from years of gripping fire hoses and climbing ladders. Goosebumps exploded across my entire body. “Gustavo, what are you doing!” He didn’t answer. He just brought his face close to my ear, his burning breath washing over it. His voice was so hoarse it was like sandpaper scraping glass: “This guy’s got no guts.” “Ties you up like this, then pulls up his pants and runs?” “Doesn’t even clean up after himself?” Each word carried the hatred of a dull knife cutting flesh. My eyes instantly stung and swelled. Not from fear, but from guilt. Guilt so profound my organs were trembling. This man—three years ago, I had pushed him away with my own hands.

Gustavo raised the hydraulic cutters, the cold metal blade touching the skin on the inside of my wrist. I hissed—not from pain, but from the extreme cold that made my scalp tingle. His hand was steady. A fire captain’s hand had held up collapsed beams in burning buildings, had single-handedly pulled jumpers from seventeenth-floor window ledges. It never shook. But I could see the muscles in his jaw clenched tight. His masseter muscles pulsing, like he was about to shatter his teeth. “I asked you a question.” His voice pressed down from above, heavy as lead. “Did you use protection.” My brain instantly crashed. What? What protection? What was he talking about? I opened my mouth, and in my panic, without thinking, blurted out two words: “Didn’t.” I meant the handcuffs didn’t have a spare key. But those two words, to Gustavo’s ears, clearly meant something else entirely. His whole body jerked like he’d been electrocuted, his right hand gripping the hydraulic cutters suddenly tightening. The veins on the back of his hand bulged one by one, like snakes crawling under his skin. Click. The sound of metal breaking, crisp and vicious—the handcuff chain snapped. The moment the chain broke, a flying metal fragment cut across the back of Gustavo’s hand. A gash immediately opened, blood flowing down between his fingers, dripping onto my white sheets. One drop, two drops, three drops—shocking to see. “Your hand—” “Don’t worry about it.” He threw the hydraulic cutters on the floor with a dull thud. My newly freed hands immediately grabbed the blanket, wrapping myself from feet to chin, wishing I could bundle myself into a dumpling. “You can leave now.” My voice was shaking terribly, but I tried to maintain the last shred of dignity. “Thank you, Captain Gustavo, for responding. Sorry for the trouble, goodbye.” Gustavo didn’t move. He stood up, turned his back to me, and began unbuckling his firefighting combat gear. One buckle, two buckles, three buckles. The heavy flame-retardant jacket slid from his shoulders, revealing the sweat-soaked black compression shirt underneath. The fabric clung tightly to him, outlining every muscle on his back. My throat tightened. I looked away. The next second, I saw Gustavo grab the chair by the bedroom door— With a bang, he jammed it against the door. Then he turned around, sat down heavily on the chair, legs spread, elbows on his knees. His injured right hand hung down, still dripping blood. He didn’t even glance at it. He just raised his head, staring at me with those bloodshot eyes. “I need to write an incident report.” He said. His voice cold as poison: “Ares, I need you to cooperate.” “Give me a detailed account of what happened.” “When it started, how long it lasted, when the other person left.” “Speak clearly.” I gripped the blanket tightly, my nails digging into my palms. He was settling personal scores. Using the most legitimate excuse to inflict the most extreme humiliation on me. Three years. This was the hatred he’d been holding for three years. Blood flowed from the back of his hand to his fingertips, then dripped from his fingertips onto my bedroom floor. He didn’t wipe it, didn’t bandage it, didn’t even furrow his brow—as if it was someone else’s hand. As if all his attention, all his hatred, all his madness, was focused on me. I couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s wrong with you, Gustavo!” I sprang up from the bed, wrapped in the blanket, and shouted at him: “There’s no man! No one! Just leave!” “This is my house! What right do you have to stay here!” Gustavo squinted slightly at my outburst, but he didn’t move. His lips even curved into a smile so cold it chilled to the bone. “No one?” “So you’re playing with handcuffs by yourself?” “Tying yourself up?” “Dressed like that to tie yourself up?” Each rhetorical question was like a hammer pounding on my skull. I stood there open-mouthed, unable to say a word. Because—everything he said was true.

Gustavo didn’t give me a chance to breathe. He stood up from the chair and began searching through my bedroom like an enraged beast patrolling its territory. He yanked open the closet, hangers clattering. He glanced down—no men’s clothes. He kicked open the space under the bed—storage boxes with a few shoes, an old suitcase. He crouched down, looked for three seconds, stood up. He jerked open the balcony curtains—empty, just a few pieces of underwear on the drying rack swaying gently in the evening breeze. Gustavo scanned each item, his brow furrowed tight enough to pinch a fly. No trace of a man. Not a single trace. This bedroom was as clean as a sealed tomb, inhabited by only one person. I huddled on the bed, clutching the blanket, feeling like a rabbit cornered against a wall. Watching helplessly as he searched through my closet, under my bed, my balcony. Finally— His gaze landed on the vanity. My heart skipped a beat. Don’t go there. Please, don’t go there. But he was already moving. I sprang from the bed like a released spring. The blanket fell and I didn’t even care. I rushed over, blocking the vanity before he could reach it, spreading my arms. “You can’t search here!” My voice had already changed pitch, sharp and thin, with a crying tone. Gustavo looked down at me. He was a full head taller than me. Right now, blocking his path, I looked like a kitten baring its teeth and claws while trembling all over. “Move.” “No!” He didn’t say it a second time. One hand wrapped around my waist, lifting me away from the vanity like picking up a cat, pressing me against the nearby wall. His other hand—the one still bleeding—pulled open the bottom drawer of the vanity. Inside the drawer was nothing belonging to a man. Not even a single strand of male hair. Just a delivery box. Already opened, then resealed with tape. The seal was crooked, as if it had been repeatedly opened and resealed. Gustavo frowned, peeling back the tape with one hand. The box opened with a rustle, its contents spilling out. A photo slid to the floor. In the photo were two people—him and me. Three years ago, summer, in front of the fire station. He wore his training uniform, I stood on tiptoe holding a water bottle over his head. Both of us grinning carelessly. Next to the photo was a dark green hardcover notebook. The cover was worn and fraying at the edges, like it had been opened countless times. Gustavo bent down and picked up the photo, his fingertips slowly sliding across my face in the image. Then he picked up the notebook. All the blood in my body froze. “Don’t look!” I lunged at him like a madwoman. My fingers caught the corner of the notebook, desperately pulling it back. Gustavo restrained me with one hand. He held the notebook high over his head. I couldn’t reach it. I jumped. He stepped back. I jumped again. He stepped back again. Finally I stepped on one of the scattered photos on the floor, my foot slipped, and I pitched forward. Gustavo caught me around the waist with quick reflexes, but his other hand never lowered the notebook. He sat me down on the edge of the bed, then stepped back two paces, lowered his head, and opened the notebook. The first page. The first day after we broke up. His pupils trembled slightly. Silence. I saw his Adam’s apple bob sharply. He turned to the second page. It had dried, wrinkled water stains. His fingertips began to shake. The third page. He closed his eyes briefly, the corners reddening quickly. The fourth page. His lashes held fragments of the bedroom’s warm yellow light, glistening with moisture. Then—he turned to the last page. The last page was dated yesterday. Gustavo spoke. His voice sounded like each word was being ground out from his chest, hoarse to the point of distortion. He read—

“Day one thousand and twenty-three since the breakup.” “The fire station downstairs changed their siren sound.” “It took me three days to get used to it.” “Before, when that sound went off, I knew he was going on a call.” “I’d lean out the window and watch the fire truck leave.” “Then count the seconds until it came back.” He paused, his Adam’s apple rolling violently. He continued reading. “Today I passed the mall and smelled cigarette smoke on a man.” “It was Camel brand. He used to smoke those too.” “I stood there in a daze for a long time.” “Everyone around me was staring.” “I pretended to be waiting for someone, but really I was waiting for the tears to go back inside.” At the last sentence, Gustavo’s voice completely shattered, like a piece of glass violently smashed on the ground. “One thousand days since the breakup. Why does the smell of smoke still make me want to cry?” The notebook hung limply from his hand. He didn’t close it. Just held it there halfway, knuckles white, the blood on the back of his hand already congealed into a dark brown scab. His eyes were red—not just slightly bloodshot, but the entire whites burned crimson. The bedroom was quiet as a tomb. Gustavo lowered his head, his gaze moving from the notebook, slowly, slowly, settling on the cut pink fluffy handcuffs on the floor. Then—I saw his expression change. The anger was gone, the mockery was gone, that bone-deep hatred was gone too. In its place was something I’d never seen on his face before. That thing was called—heartbreak. He understood everything now. No other man, no hookup, no one who pulled up their pants and ran. Just a woman he’d left behind, holding his old photos and a diary full of his name through one thousand and twenty-three nights after the breakup, rotting alone. Even buying novelty handcuffs—she was playing alone. I crouched by the bed, burying my face in my knees. My shoulders shook like leaves in the wind. Utterly humiliated. Ares, oh Ares, look at yourself now. Wearing a lace dress, cornered in your bedroom by your ex-boyfriend. He read your diary, recited your most pathetic thoughts, saw your ugliest secrets. In front of him, even your last shred of dignity has been stripped away. Tears fell heavily onto my knees, spreading dark stains. I raised my head and forced a smile at him, uglier than crying. “Satisfied now, Captain Gustavo?” “Now you know.” “Ares is just this pathetic.” “Three years broken up, can’t forget you.” “Are you happy? Can you put this in your incident report?” I roughly wiped my face with the back of my hand, stood up, and pointed at the bedroom door. The final order to leave. “If you’ve seen enough, get out.” “Please.” “Leave me… just a little bit of dignity.” My voice broke in my throat. The bedroom fell into a long, dead silence. Gustavo stood motionless. I thought he would leave. He should leave. Three years ago, I was the one who broke up with him. I was the one who said “I don’t love you anymore.” I was the one who packed his things in a box and left it at the door. I was the one who changed my phone number and moved, cutting ties completely. He had ten thousand reasons to hate me. He should laugh coldly, slam the door, and leave—that would be the normal script. But he didn’t. I heard the notebook fall to the floor with a dull, soft thud. Then footsteps. One step, two steps, three steps, getting closer. Close enough that I could smell the smoke from his fire gear, mixed with sweat and the metallic scent of blood. A hand covered in wounds and dried blood cupped my face. His palm was rough enough to scrape skin, but his fingertips were trembling badly. I was forced to lift my head, meeting his eyes. Red, moist, like a wounded beast with its heart gouged out but refusing to fall. Gustavo knelt on one knee before me. This man who had pried open twisted car doors with his bare hands in fires. This man who had carried two children down from the fifteenth floor through thick smoke. This man I had pushed away with my own hands and then abandoned. He knelt before me, cradling my face. His voice so hoarse it sounded like he was speaking through broken glass. “Since you miss me so much—” His thumb wiped across the tear tracks on my face, the pressure so light it was like touching something fragile. But the emotion churning in his eyes was fierce enough to make your legs weak. He unbuckled his tactical belt, the metal clasps clanging in the silent bedroom. Gustavo pressed his forehead against mine, nose tip to nose tip, breath intertwining. “—why use some cheap toy? Use me.”

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On the night of our eighth anniversary, my boyfriend Fernando suddenly went off the grid when he was supposed to be with me. I called him countless times. No one answered. The next morning, just as I was about to call the police, Fernando called back: “Last night my coworker Ellis’s mother-in-law suddenly passed away. I went to help out. Left my phone in the car, didn’t notice.” I breathed a sigh of relief, but something felt off. After hanging up, I sent Ellis a message: “I heard your mother-in-law passed away. My condolences. Is there anything I can help with?” Three minutes later, Ellis called: “Hello, Juliet, did you send that to the wrong person? My mother-in-law is alive and well!” I quickly apologized to Ellis. After the call ended, my heart felt a sharp pain. This man who had loved me for eight years had lied to me. I opened my chat history with Fernando. The last message was from me, at 4:12 AM: [Where are you? I’m really worried about you.] Scrolling up, there was yesterday’s conversation. When I got home, I’d sent him a photo of the cinnamon cookies my mom made for me. He replied with a “so jealous” emoji. Below that was a video call from him. He was curled up on the couch, the camera shaking around. Mom had called me to help with something, interrupting the video call. After I hung up, he sent a message. He said he missed me. He said this Christmas we’d go back together and ask my mom for permission to marry me. Eight years ago today, he confessed his feelings to me. He said that if he ever deceived me in this lifetime, he’d be hit by a car the moment he stepped outside. Fernando valued his life. Not long after we got together, he spiked a fever of 102 degrees. When the doctor went to draw blood, he held me and cried secretly. He said he’d looked it up online and was afraid he might have leukemia. Choking up, he said he hadn’t lived enough yet, but he needed to settle his affairs. He said his $80,000 in savings should be split—half to his parents, half to me. He said if he was diagnosed, I shouldn’t wait for him. I stroked his head, wiping away his tears, laughing at him for acting like a child. But I also thought to myself that someone so afraid of death who dared to make such a vow would surely keep his word. But we hadn’t even reached a lifetime yet—nowhere near it—and he’d already lied to me. Fernando was extremely superstitious. For him to risk his life fabricating this lie, that person must be very important. My phone suddenly vibrated. I hesitated for a moment but still answered. Let me hear it. Just in case. “You sent Ellis a message?!” Fernando’s voice was low but couldn’t contain his anger. “Yeah.” “What do you mean by that?” “You said her mother-in-law died, so I went to comfort her. Is there a problem?” There was two seconds of silence on the other end. “Juliet, you’re checking up on me.” “I’m not.” “Not? Then why did you send Ellis a message?” Fernando’s voice suddenly rose. “No one in Ellis’s family died at all. I was too tired and said the wrong thing. You rushing to send that message—if word gets out, how am I supposed to face people at the company?!” I gripped my phone, my fingers growing cold. Clearly he was the one who lied, but every sentence seemed to tell me I was the one in the wrong. A heavy sigh came from Fernando’s end. His voice suddenly softened. “Juliet, I know you’re worried about me, but what you did really embarrassed me. Ellis is my supervisor. What will she think of me after this? Will she still think of me when opportunities come up?” “Juliet, we’ve been together eight years. Do you really not trust me?” My nose suddenly stung. Eight years. Fernando knew exactly how to make me feel guilty. “Alright, Juliet, I got too emotional. I’m sorry.” Probably because I hadn’t spoken for so long, Fernando’s tone completely softened. “The family emergency was Enzo from Ellis’s office. You added Enzo on Twitter at the last company dinner. If you don’t believe me, go ask.” After hanging up, I hesitated for a long time but finally found Enzo’s Twitter. I clicked in and sent “Enzo.” But what I received was a notification that I’d been blocked. Blocked. I could still see Enzo’s Twitter updates this morning. Fernando was closest to Enzo at the company. He told me to verify it, and Enzo blocked me.

After the call ended, Fernando sent no more messages. For our eighth anniversary, we’d originally planned to go to Disneyland together. But he said he had to work overtime. He said we were close to saving enough for a house down payment, and he wanted to work overtime to earn more money. So these past days, when Fernando’s messages were few, I never thought much of it. But now… After dinner, I posted a Twitter update with a photo of the pasta my mom made. [The holiday is almost over. I’ll miss my mom’s cooking.] I set it so only Fernando could see it. After posting, I began to wait. One hour, two hours, three hours, four hours—no response. Eight years. Fernando had liked every single one of my Twitter posts. I once asked him, you’re so busy with work, how can you always notice my Twitter posts right away? He stroked my hair and smiled. Because I care, I pay attention all the time. My fingertips rubbed against my palm. My finger accidentally swept across my phone screen. The page switched to Fernando’s Instagram. Just one minute ago, he’d updated his story. The photo was of the evening sky, with a location tag near our house at that little park. The caption read: [Busy day done. Finally can catch my breath.] There was only one comment: [You worked hard today. Next time, my treat~] Fernando replied almost instantly: [It’s a deal. No backing out.] I clicked on the profile of the person who replied to him. It was a young woman with chestnut-colored hair. At Fernando’s last company dinner, she wasn’t there. At 1:45 AM, Fernando liked my Twitter post. Then he sent me messages, still in an exhausted tone: “Juliet, I’m literally dying of exhaustion. Didn’t expect overtime on our eighth anniversary would be this busy.” “At least in two more days you’ll be back. Remember to send me your train ticket. I’ll pick you up.” “You must be asleep, right?” “Good night. I miss you so much.” I stared at these sentences from Fernando for a long time. Then I changed my train ticket.

Mom didn’t expect me to come back two days early. All morning she hurriedly stuffed things into my bag. “Juliet, when you get back, treat Fernando well. That boy came from nothing. It wasn’t easy for him to get where he is today.” “Tell him for me, thank him for the money transfer, but I can’t accept it.” My hands stopped packing. “When did he send you money?” “Just now. Didn’t he tell you?” “When exactly?” Mom put her phone in my hand. “See for yourself.” I opened Mom’s phone. It was at 7 AM. He’d transferred $2,000 to Mom and sent a message: [Auntie, I have to work overtime this time and couldn’t go back with Juliet to see you. Please accept this money. This Christmas I’ll definitely go back with Juliet and call you Mom.] Thinking about how I hadn’t replied to Fernando’s messages from last night until now, my hands suddenly went weak. Fernando really knew how to manipulate my emotions. I forced myself to calm down, stuffed the phone back to Mom, and smiled. “Not taking it is right. After all, who knows what will happen in the future.” “Don’t talk nonsense!” Mom smiled and touched my face. “Your dad said yesterday, boys as sincere as Fernando are hard to find these days. You need to treasure him.” “I know, I know.” I cut off Mom’s nagging. “By the way, don’t tell Fernando about me coming back. I want to surprise him.” Mom laughed. “Alright, I know.” At 3 PM, I arrived at the apartment Fernando and I rented. Fernando wasn’t home. After entering, I put down my suitcase and looked around. Everything seemed normal. I immediately checked the home surveillance footage. But three days ago—the night I left—the surveillance had been turned off. I went to the kitchen. It looked the same as when I left. But in the trash can lay a receipt from the supermarket. From yesterday. It was mostly daily necessities, but at the end were three boxes of condoms. The brand Fernando had begged me to try multiple times. I thought the flavored ones were weird and never agreed. I clutched the receipt and headed straight to the bedroom, pulling open the nightstand drawer. The condoms Fernando and I regularly used were still there. Of those three new boxes, only one remained. I opened the closet. In the most accessible spot, Fernando’s pajamas were neatly folded. Fernando never folded clothes, especially not pajamas. Every time, I followed behind him organizing things. But those pajamas—I didn’t fold them. I yanked the folded pajamas out of the closet. I immediately saw the chestnut-colored long hair on the pajamas. With trembling hands, I took out my phone. I found Fernando’s Instagram, clicked on the profile of the girl who replied to him. I stared at her chestnut-colored long hair, frozen in place. The color—the same. The length—the same. I suddenly pulled back the pillows on the bed. Under my pillow were some overlooked, unprocessed chestnut-colored long hairs. I stumbled into the bathroom. Near the shower drain, I saw more of that chestnut-colored hair. My stomach suddenly began to convulse. I leaned over the toilet and dry heaved. I sat limply on the floor. My fingers accidentally scrolled through that girl’s profile. Three years ago, she posted a photo of intertwined fingers. The caption: [Tonight, I bloom for you.] I recognized it immediately—that hand crumpling the bedsheets was Fernando’s. Three years ago. I scrolled down frantically. Finally, four years ago, in a large group photo from Fernando’s company, I saw that girl. She was his coworker. But in all these years, I’d never seen her at any of Fernando’s company dinners. For him, she was willing to hide herself like this. I forced down the nausea churning in my stomach and sent Fernando a message: [I’m back. I know everything.]

An hour later, hurried footsteps came from outside, along with a tearful female voice: “Fernando, it’s my fault. Let me in. I’ll explain to her.” “No!” Fernando deliberately lowered his voice, but you could still hear the dominance and protectiveness in his words. The Fernando outside the door seemed like a different person from the one I knew. When he was with me, he was gentle and easygoing. But the current him was decisive, firm yet tender. I couldn’t control myself—I got up and walked toward the door. I really wanted to see the Fernando outside that door, and that chestnut-haired girl. I gripped the door handle. The people outside were still arguing. I yanked hard! The door opened. That chestnut-haired girl was curled up in Fernando’s arms, crying. Fernando’s hand kept stroking her long hair, his eyes full of heartache. Watching Fernando’s hand linger on that chestnut-colored hair, in an instant, the hairs from under the pillow and from the bathroom seemed to extend out and wrap tightly around me. The people outside clearly saw me too. Fernando abruptly released his hold on the girl. The girl wiped her tears and stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Juliet. This is all my fault.” “Slap!” I couldn’t hold back. I raised my arm and slapped the girl across the face. As my hand swung toward Fernando, he suddenly rushed forward from behind and shoved me away hard, fiercely protecting that rabbit-like girl behind him. “Juliet, what are you doing?!” Resentment and fury surged in Fernando’s eyes. But my gaze fell on the girl’s ring finger. On her ring finger was a large engagement diamond ring. It was the exact model Fernando bought when he proposed to me three months ago. My nails dug hard into my palm. I turned abruptly and rushed toward the bedroom, yanking open the left drawer of the vanity. I opened the ring box. The ring was gone. I ran out like a madwoman and grabbed the girl’s wrist. I forcibly removed the ring from her finger. Under the dim hallway light, I looked at it. The engraving on the ring’s band wasn’t “Juliet.” That ring was this year’s limited edition. When Fernando and I went to buy it, it was the last one. I shoved the ring in Fernando’s face. “Is this ring mine? Or did you buy two from the start?!” “I begged Fernando to buy it!” The girl stepped in front of Fernando first. “Juliet, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I know I’m not worthy of Fernando. I just wanted to secretly walk part of the road with him.” I looked past the girl’s head, staring hard at Fernando. “So you bought two from the beginning?!” No wonder the sales associate who sold the ring wouldn’t let us sign that one-of-a-kind true love agreement. No wonder on the day we bought the ring, he said he forgot his ID card and used his father’s to purchase it. No wonder that day the sales associate saw him and said, “You’re here again.” So Fernando took her to buy it first. So that true love agreement—he signed it with her first. These past days, that girl came to the house, saw the identical ring in the drawer, and must have gotten angry. So Fernando threw mine away. Perhaps he also promised her daily that he’d marry her soon. Perhaps this very morning, he spoke to her mother the same way he spoke to mine. My heart felt like it was stuffed with a soaked towel—dull, painfully suffocating. “Juliet, let me explain.” “Juliet!” Before Fernando could finish speaking, the girl suddenly dropped to her knees at my feet with a thud. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll break things off with Fernando immediately!” “But I’m begging you, can you please give me back the ring?” I shifted my gaze back to the ring in my hand, glanced at the girl, pulled a cold smile, and extended my hand out the window. “Don’t.” The girl suddenly sprang up and lunged at me. I was originally standing near the staircase. She charged at me, and her whole body slammed into mine. We rolled down the stairs together. The violent collision tore open the girl’s dress. I looked at the special petal-shaped scar on the girl’s shoulder and froze. The first year Fernando and I were together, he told me his father had an affair when he was younger and brought a woman home. That woman had a little girl with her. The little girl had a petal-shaped scar on her shoulder. Because of that woman, his mother committed suicide. After his mother died, his father kicked that woman and child out of the house. I heard that woman had a miserable life afterward. I suddenly looked at Fernando. “Fernando, so it’s her.”

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