Category: English

My boyfriend vanished without a trace three years ago. I searched every corner of the city, posted flyers, and exhausted every lead, but found nothing. Until last week. He suddenly appeared at my doorstep, covered in horrific wounds. He told me he had been kidnapped and trafficked to an illegal brick kiln in the middle of nowhere, and it took him three agonizing years to finally escape. My heart broke into a million pieces. Trembling with pity, I brewed him healing tea, dressed his wounds, and took care of him twenty-four hours a day for seven whole days. But this morning, the police knocked on my door. “We found a body at an abandoned brick kiln last night. The medical examiner estimates the time of death was about a week ago.” “The deceased is your boyfriend, Julian.” I froze. “That’s impossible. He’s been staying with me all week.” *** “That’s impossible,” I repeated, my voice shaking. The detective opposite me frowned, pushing the case file across the metal table. “Ms. Harper Vance, we’ve already run the checks. The victim had Julian’s driver’s license in his wallet. The facial recognition database matches the missing person report you filed three years ago perfectly.” I could hear the tremor in my own breath. “But he’s been with me this entire week. In my apartment. He hasn’t left the room.” The two detectives exchanged a heavy look. The older one was Detective Carter. I had seen him dozens of times. Three years ago, I practically lived at the police station, pleading for updates every week. Then it became once a month. Eventually, I thought I’d never have to go back. Detective Carter pulled a glossy photo from the manila folder and laid it in front of me. I looked down, and my stomach instantly violently churned. A wave of cold nausea hit me. It was a body, lying on a metal slab, eyes closed, skin a sickly ash-gray. The background was dark, likely taken at the crime scene under harsh camera flashes. Every grim detail was painfully sharp. It was Julian. No, wait. It was his face. It was definitely Julian’s face. I stared at the photo for what felt like an eternity, until Detective Carter gently called my name. “Harper?” I snapped my head up. “This isn’t him.” “We ran the facial recognition. It’s a ninety-eight percent match.” Detective Carter’s voice was flat, stating an undeniable, cold fact. “And he had Julian’s ID. Name, date of birth, social security number—everything matches the file from your missing person report.” “But—” “Harper.” He cut me off gently. “Julian’s immediate family has passed away. His parents died in a car crash shortly after he went missing three years ago. You know this, right?” I knew. Of course I knew. Four months after Julian vanished, his devastated parents drove to another state following a fake lead about his whereabouts. They crashed on the highway. I was completely numb back then. When I got the call, I didn’t even know how to cry. Later, I was the one who handled their funeral and packed up their belongings, thinking that if Julian ever came back, at least he would have something left of his family. But he never came back. “So right now, you are the only emergency contact we have on file,” Detective Carter said. “We need you to come to the morgue to formally identify the body and sign the paperwork.” My mouth opened, but no sound came out. “He’s sleeping in my bedroom right now,” I said, pointing toward the hallway. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll go wake him up. You can see for yourselves.” I stood up abruptly and walked toward the bedroom. I was walking too fast, stumbling over my own feet, but I didn’t care. I pushed the bedroom door open. The bed was empty. ***

The duvet was tossed to one side, as if someone had just gotten up. I walked over and pressed my hand against the sheet. It was ice cold. “Julian?” I called out, my voice barely a whisper, as if afraid to shatter the silence. No answer. I called again, louder this time. Still, only silence. I turned and checked the bathroom. Empty. The kitchen. Empty. The balcony. Empty. My apartment was tiny—barely six hundred square feet. You could see the whole place in one glance. I stood in the middle of the living room, looking at the two detectives who had followed me in. Seeing the pity on their faces made me feel like a complete lunatic. “Maybe he went out to buy groceries,” I muttered. Detective Carter didn’t say a word. He just watched me. I looked down at the coffee table. Last night, I had brewed a mug of herbal tea for Julian. It was a dark, bitter home remedy to help him sleep. He had only drunk half of it, complaining it tasted like liquid dirt, so I left the mug on the table. I had told him I would make him a fresh cup today. But the mug was gone. No, it wasn’t just the mug. My heart skipped a beat as I looked around. For the past week, the coffee table had been cluttered with ointment tubes, rolls of gauze, antiseptic wipes, and cotton swabs. Julian’s wounds needed dressing every day. I had accumulated a small mountain of bloody bandages, which I kept in a trash bag by the door, intending to take it down to the dumpster. Now, there was nothing. The coffee table was sparkling clean. The half-empty mug was gone. The gauze was gone. The trash bag by the door was gone. No. This was all wrong. I stood there, my ears ringing. Something dark and terrifying was clawing its way up my throat, but I forced it down. Detective Carter stepped closer to me. “Harper, are you alright?” “He came back,” I said, turning to him, emphasizing every single word. “He really came back. Last Wednesday night, he knocked on my door. He was covered in blood and bruises. I barely recognized him. He said he was trapped in a forced labor camp and spent three years trying to escape. I made him soup, I dressed his wounds, I held him for seven nights. I didn’t dream this. It wasn’t in my head. He was here.” Detective Carter was quiet for a long moment. “Then why didn’t you call the police?” I froze. Why didn’t I call the police? Because Julian begged me not to. “He said…” I scrambled to piece together the memories of that night. “He said the owners of the brick kiln had powerful connections. He said the local cops were paid off, and if we reported it, they’d just drag him back. He told me he just wanted to hide out for a while until the dust settled. He said having me was enough. He didn’t want anyone else to know.” Detective Carter looked at me, his eyes filled with a complicated mixture of skepticism and concern. “During these seven days, did anyone else see him?” I thought about it. “No. He never left the apartment. Aside from my quick runs to the pharmacy and grocery store down the street, I stayed by his side the entire time.” “What about security cameras? Does your building have CCTV?” “It’s an old building. The cameras in the lobby have been broken for years. Management never fixed them.” Detective Carter nodded slowly. The younger officer next to him whispered, “Sir, this is getting a bit too…” Detective Carter raised a hand, silencing him. “Harper, come with us to the station first. Let’s get the identification over with.” ***

His tone had softened, laced with sympathy. “We can figure out the rest later.” I looked at him, then at the eerily clean coffee table, and finally nodded. The entire drive to the precinct, my mind was racing, trying to find the glitch in reality. The night Julian knocked on my door was last Wednesday. I remembered it clearly because I had worked late. I had grabbed a cup of instant ramen from the convenience store downstairs, planning to have a sad dinner. As I approached my building’s entrance, I saw a shadow slumped against the brick wall. I gasped, instinctively stepping back. The shadow moved, and a voice, raspy and broken, called out, “Harper.” It was Julian. I stood frozen. The cup of ramen slipped from my hands, rolling to a stop near his dirty sneakers. He took two agonizing steps forward, and the streetlights illuminated his face. He was unrecognizable. His face was a map of purple bruises, his lip was split, one eye was swollen shut, and his clothes were tattered rags. His exposed arms were covered in a horrific lattice of old and new scars. He was limping heavily, his left leg dragging. “Julian?” my voice cracked. He nodded weakly. I rushed to him, my hands hovering over his body, terrified of hurting him. He was a walking open wound. In the end, I just stood there, tears streaming down my face. “How… how are you…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. He looked at me through his one good eye, a faint, emotional glint shining through the pain. “Harper, I escaped,” he whispered. The details after that were a blur. I remember helping him up the stairs, guiding him to the sofa, and frantically grabbing my first-aid kit. His injuries were worse than they looked. His back was covered in angry whip welts—some scabbed over, others still oozing blood. His feet were a mess of popped blisters and thick, dirty calluses. I cried the entire time I applied the antiseptic, my hands shaking. He remained incredibly quiet, only letting out a sharp gasp when the alcohol stung his raw skin. Once I finished wrapping him up, he leaned back against the sofa, looked at me, and suddenly said, “Harper, don’t call the cops.” I blinked. “Why?” “The people who ran that place… they have people everywhere. The police won’t help.” “I saw a guy try to report them once. They sent him right back. He didn’t survive the night.” “But we can’t just—” “Harper.” He reached out and squeezed my hand. “Just let me catch my breath first, okay? I’ve been running for three years. I just want to be safe with you for a few days.” Looking into his desperate eyes, I nodded. Over the next week, I called in sick to work and stayed by his side. He was too weak to move much, so he spent most of his time in bed. I cooked for him, kept him hydrated, and wiped his feverish brow. He didn’t talk much. Whenever I asked about his time at the labor camp, he would shudder and shake his head, saying he couldn’t bear to relive it. When I asked how he survived those three years, he just looked at me and said, “By thinking of you.” There was one moment, while I was heating up some soup, he watched me from the kitchen doorway and said, “You still have the same habit. You always let it boil over first, then panic and turn the heat down.” I smiled. “How did you know?” “You used to make me soup when we lived in our college dorm.” “Like that time I had the flu, and you insisted on making some terrible vegetable broth that tasted like hot dishwater. I couldn’t swallow a single sip.” Now, sitting in the back of the police cruiser, staring at the blurred city lights outside, I scrutinized every single memory from the past week. His words. His gestures. The way he looked at me. Everything was so normal. He remembered my favorite foods, the places we used to go, the stupid arguments we had. At one point, I casually mentioned how much I missed my old cat who ran away years ago. He immediately said, “You mean Milo? The chubby orange tabby? You cried for two weeks and searched every shelter in the city.” If this man wasn’t Julian, how could he possibly know these intimate details? ***

But… The cruiser pulled up to the precinct. Detective Carter opened the door. “We’re here.” The process of identifying the body was faster than I expected. I was led into a cold, sterile room. On the gurney in the center lay a body covered in a white sheet. An assistant walked over and pulled the sheet down, revealing the face. It was clean. The dirt, the blood, and the bruises were gone. There was only the pale, lifeless skin and closed eyes. But the facial features were unmistakably Julian’s. The jawline, the curve of his brow—it was him. I stood there, a cold dread wrapping around my spine. This was Julian. But this wasn’t Julian. Two violently clashing voices roared in my head, leaving me completely disoriented. “Harper?” Detective Carter’s voice cut through the fog. “Can you confirm? Is this Julian?” I walked closer to the gurney, staring at the cold face. Slowly, I reached out, took the corpse’s left wrist, and turned it over. There should have been a scar. Julian had a deep, jagged scar on his left wrist from a dark period during his senior year of high school. He had attempted suicide during a severe depressive episode. He survived, but the ugly pink scar remained. When we were together, I used to gently trace that scar, asking if it still hurt. He would always smile and say it only hurt when he remembered how lonely he was before he met me. But this wrist was completely smooth. Clean, unblemished skin. Not even a faint scratch. I whipped my head around to face Detective Carter. “This isn’t Julian.” Detective Carter walked over, glanced at the wrist, and then looked back at me. “Are you sure?” “Julian has a prominent scar on his left wrist.” I pointed at the dead man’s bare skin. “It’s deep and impossible to miss. This man doesn’t have it.” Detective Carter fell silent for a few seconds. He pulled out the DNA report and reviewed it again. “But the DNA matches,” he said, handing me the document. “See for yourself.” I snatched the paper, my eyes scanning down to the bold print at the bottom: *99.97% DNA match with Julian’s deceased parents’ DNA database.* My hands began to tremble violently. “This is impossible.” I looked up, panic rising in my chest. “If this dead man is Julian… then who the hell was living in my apartment this past week?” Detective Carter stared at me, silent. “He was there,” my voice cracked into a sob. “For seven days, he slept in my bed. I fed him. I kissed him. He called me Harper. He knew everything about us! If Julian is dead on this table, then who was that man?” “Harper, please, calm down.” “How can I be calm?” I snapped. “The DNA says this is Julian, but Julian has a scar! This makes absolutely no sense!” Detective Carter frowned, examining the corpse’s wrist again. “Is it possible you misremembered? Maybe the scar faded over the years?” “I didn’t misremember!” I yelled, tears finally spilling over. “I touched that scar thousands of times. It was about two inches long, slightly raised, and lighter than the rest of his skin. I could draw it with my eyes closed!” Detective Carter turned to the medical examiner standing nearby. “Can you explain this?” The medical examiner stepped forward, carefully examining both of the corpse’s wrists. “There is absolutely no scar tissue here. But DNA doesn’t lie. Unless…”

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My girlfriend had been missing for three whole years. I had searched every corner of the city, followed every lead, but found absolutely nothing. Until last Wednesday, when she suddenly showed up at my doorstep, covered in bruises and cuts. She told me she had been kidnapped and forced to work in an illegal sweatshop, and that it had taken her three agonizing years to finally escape. My heart broke just looking at her. Shaking, I brewed herbal remedies for her, applied ointment to her wounds, and took care of her day and night for seven straight days. But this morning, the police knocked on my door. “Last night, we found a body in an abandoned sweatshop on the outskirts of town. Time of death was estimated to be about a week ago.” “The victim has been identified as your girlfriend.” I froze. “That’s impossible. She’s been staying with me all week.” “It’s not impossible.” The officer opposite me frowned, pushing the file folder on the desk closer to me. “Mr. Lucas Hunt, we’ve already verified the identity. The deceased had her ID on her, and our system database confirmed her fingerprint match. It’s Chloe Vance, the girl you reported missing three years ago.” I heard my own voice trembling. “But she’s been staying with me this entire week. In my apartment. She hasn’t left at all.” The two officers exchanged a look. The older one was Officer Miller. I had met him several times before. Three years ago, I used to report to the station almost every week, then it became once a month, and eventually, I thought I’d never have to come back here again. Officer Miller pulled a photo from the folder and placed it in front of me. I looked down, and my stomach instantly churned with a wave of intense nausea. It felt like a physical blow to my chest. The photo showed a person lying on a metal table, eyes closed, skin a sickly grayish-white. The background was dark, likely taken at the crime scene. The camera flash hit her face, making every brutal detail blindingly clear. It was Chloe. No, wait. It was that face. It was Chloe’s face. I stared at the photo for a long time, so long that Officer Miller had to call my name softly. “Lucas?” I looked up. “This isn’t her.” “We’ve already run a facial recognition scan. It’s over a ninety-eight percent match.” Officer Miller’s tone was flat, stating a fact that left no room for doubt. “Plus, she had her ID on her. The name, the social security number, everything matches. We pulled your old missing person report, too. All the details are identical.” “But—” “Lucas.” He cut me off. “The victim’s immediate family members have all passed away. Her parents died in a car crash shortly after she went missing three years ago. You knew about that, right?” I knew. Of course I knew. Four months after Chloe vanished, her parents had driven out of state to look for her. They crashed on the highway. I was completely numb during that period. When I got the call, I didn’t even know how to react. Later, I was the one who handled their funeral and sorted through their things, thinking that if Chloe ever came back, at least she’d have something left of them. But she never came back. “So, the only legal contact we can find right now is you,” Officer Miller said. “We need you to come to the morgue, identify the body, and sign the release papers.” I opened my mouth, trying to say something, but the words died in my throat. “She’s sleeping in my bedroom right now,” I said, pointing toward the hallway of my apartment. “If you don’t believe me, I can go call her out right now.” I stood up immediately and walked toward the bedroom. I knew I was walking too fast, even stumbling a little, but I didn’t care. I pushed the bedroom door open. The bed was empty.

The blanket was tossed to one side, as if someone had just gotten up. I walked over and touched the sheets. They were cold. “Chloe?” I called out, my voice quiet, as if I was afraid of waking someone. No response. I called her name again, louder this time. Still, silence. I turned and checked the bathroom. Empty. The kitchen. Empty. The balcony. Empty. My apartment was tiny—barely six hundred square feet. You could see the whole place in one glance. I stood in the middle of the living room, looking at the two officers who had followed me in. Seeing the expressions on their faces, I suddenly felt like an absolute idiot. “She… she probably went out to buy some groceries,” I muttered. Officer Miller didn’t say anything. He just watched me. I looked down at the coffee table. Last night, I had brewed a hot remedy for Chloe. It was a dark, bitter liquid. She had only drank half of it, complaining it was too bitter, and left the rest on the table. I had told her she could finish it tomorrow, that I’d make her a fresh batch. Now, the mug was gone. No, it wasn’t just the mug. I suddenly realized that all the medical supplies I’d been using—the ointment jars, the gauze, the antiseptic, the cotton swabs—which had been piled messily next to the coffee table, were gone. Chloe’s wounds needed daily dressing. Every time I changed her bandages, I would put the blood-stained gauze into a trash bag by the door, planning to take it down later. Now, everything was gone. The coffee table was completely clean. The half-empty mug was gone, the gauze was gone, the medicine jars were gone. This wasn’t right. None of this made sense. I stood there, my head buzzing. Something dark was clawing its way up my throat, but I forced myself to swallow it down. Officer Miller walked up to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Lucas, are you okay?” “She came back,” I said, turning to look at him, emphasizing every single word. “She really came back. Last Wednesday night, she knocked on my door. She was covered in cuts, her face was bloody, and I barely recognized her. She told me she had been kidnapped and trafficked to a sweatshop, and she’d been running for three years to escape. I cooked for her, bandaged her wounds, and took care of her for seven days. I didn’t dream this. I didn’t make this up. She was here.” Officer Miller was silent for a moment. “Then why didn’t you call the police?” I froze. Why didn’t I call the police? Because Chloe begged me not to. “She said…” I tried desperately to recall that night. “She said the people running the sweatshop had powerful connections. She said the police wouldn’t help and would just send her back. She told me she wanted to lay low for a while until things blew over. She said having me was enough, that she didn’t want anyone else to know.” Officer Miller looked at me, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite read. “During these seven days, did anyone else see her?” I thought about it. “No. She never left the apartment. Other than running down to get groceries and medicine, I was with her the entire time.” “What about security cameras? Did the cameras at your building entrance catch her?” “My building is old. The security cameras have been broken for years. Management never fixed them.” Officer Miller nodded slowly but didn’t say anything else. The younger officer beside him whispered, “Sir, this is getting a bit too…” Officer Miller raised a hand to silence him. “Lucas, come back to the station with us first. Identify the body.”

His voice softened slightly. “We’ll figure out the rest later.” I looked at him, then at the empty coffee table, and finally nodded. All the way to the station in the back of the police cruiser, my mind was racing, trying to figure out where things had gone wrong. The night Chloe came back was last Wednesday. I remembered it clearly because I had worked late that night. I had grabbed a cup of instant ramen from the convenience store downstairs, thinking I’d just have a quick dinner. As I walked up to my building entrance, I saw a shadow slumped against the wall. I startled, instinctively taking a step back. The shadow moved, and a voice, raspy and incredibly hoarse, called out, “Lucas.” It was Chloe. I froze on the spot. The cup of ramen dropped from my hands, rolling on the concrete before stopping at her feet. She took two steps forward, and only then did the dim streetlamp illuminate her face. She was covered in bruises. Her lip was split, her eyes were swollen almost shut, and her clothes were completely tattered, revealing arms covered in layers of old and fresh scars. She limped heavily, as if one of her legs was badly injured. “Chloe?” my voice shook. She nodded. I rushed over, wanting to hold her, but I didn’t even know where to touch. She was so battered I was terrified of hurting her more. In the end, I just stood there, tears streaming down my face. “How did you…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. She looked at me, and through her swollen eyelids, I saw tears glistening. “Lucas, I escaped,” she whispered. I didn’t remember much of what happened next. I just remembered helping her upstairs, setting her down on the sofa, and frantically searching for the first-aid kit. Her injuries were far worse than they looked. Her back was covered in whip scars—some had scabbed over, others were still oozing blood. Her feet were covered in blisters that had popped and healed over and over again, leaving thick calluses. I cried the entire time I applied antiseptic to her wounds. She remained incredibly quiet, only letting out a sharp gasp when it stung, never screaming. Once I finished bandaging her, she leaned back against the sofa, looked at me, and suddenly said, “Lucas, don’t call the cops.” I blinked. “Why?” “The owner of that place has people in high places. Going to the police is useless.” “I saw a girl try to call them once. They just brought her back and beat her twice as hard.” “But we can’t just—” “Lucas.” She grabbed my hand. “Just let me catch my breath first, okay? I’ve been running for three years. I just want a few quiet days with you.” Looking into her eyes, I couldn’t say no. I nodded. For the next week, I took some paid time off and didn’t leave her side. Because she was so badly hurt, she spent most of her time lying down. I made her soup, brewed herbal remedies, cooked, and helped her clean up. She didn’t speak much. Whenever I asked about the sweatshop, she’d just shake her head and say she didn’t want to talk about it. When I asked how she survived those three years, she simply said, “By thinking of you.” Once, while I was brewing some herbal tea for her, she watched me from the kitchen doorway and suddenly said, “You still have the same habit. Bring it to a boil on high heat first, then let it simmer on low.” I smiled. “How did you know?” “You used to make it for me.” “Remember that time I had a terrible cold? You insisted on brewing this fancy herbal remedy. You spent four hours on it, and in the end, it was so bitter I couldn’t even swallow a sip.” Now, sitting in the back of the police car, looking at the streetlights flashing past the window, I desperately replayed every detail of this past week. Her words, her gestures, the way she looked at me. Everything was so normal. She remembered my favorite foods, the places we used to go to, every little promise I had made. Once, I casually mentioned a stray cat we used to feed that eventually got lost, and how I had cried for days over it. She said, “Yeah, it was a ginger cat named Butterscotch. You searched the whole neighborhood for two weeks after he disappeared.” If this person wasn’t the real Chloe, how could she possibly know all these intimate details?

But then… The car stopped in front of the police department. Officer Miller opened the door and looked at me. “We’re here.” The identification process went much faster than I had anticipated. I was led into a cold, sterile room. There was a metal table in the center covered with a white sheet. An assistant walked over and gently pulled back the top half of the sheet. I saw the face. It was clean. The bruises were gone, the dried blood was gone. There was only grayish-white skin and closed eyes. But the features were unmistakably Chloe’s. The brow, the nose, the shape of her jaw—it was all her. I stood there, a cold sweat breaking out across my back. This was Chloe. No, this wasn’t Chloe. Two conflicting voices screamed in my head, tearing at my sanity until I couldn’t tell what was real anymore. “Lucas?” someone whispered beside me. I turned and saw Officer Miller looking at me with a worried expression. “Can you confirm if this is Chloe Vance?” I stepped closer to the table, staring at the face for a long time. Then, I reached out, took the corpse’s left wrist, and flipped it over. There should have been a scar. Chloe had a very deep scar on her left wrist, from a suicide attempt back in high school. She had told me she was severely depressed back then and wanted to end it all. She was saved, but the scar remained. When we were together, I used to gently run my thumb over that scar, asking if it still hurt. She’d smile and say it didn’t hurt anymore, it just looked a bit ugly. But on this wrist, there was nothing. The skin was smooth, pale, and completely unblemished. Not even a faint line. I whipped my head around to look at Officer Miller. “This isn’t Chloe.” Officer Miller stepped forward, glanced at the wrist, and then looked back at me. “Are you sure?” “Chloe has a deep scar on her left wrist.” “It’s very prominent. This person doesn’t have it.” Officer Miller was silent for a few seconds. He pulled out the DNA report and looked at it again. “But the DNA matches.” He handed the report to me. “See for yourself.” I took the paper, my eyes locking onto the bold letters at the bottom. *DNA match probability with Chloe Vance’s parents’ reference samples: 99.97%.* My hands began to shake violently. “This is impossible.” I looked up at him. “If this body is Chloe, then who the hell was staying in my apartment this past week?” Officer Miller stared at me, speechless. “She came back,” my voice cracked. “For seven days, she was with me. I cooked for her, I bandaged her. She called me Lucas. She remembered everything about us. If this is Chloe, then who is she?!” “Lucas, you need to calm down.” “How can I calm down?!” I snapped, interrupting him. “The DNA matches, which means this body is Chloe. But Chloe has a scar on her wrist, and this body doesn’t! It makes no sense!” Officer Miller frowned, looking back at the corpse’s wrist. “Is it possible you misremembered? Maybe the scar wasn’t that deep, or it faded over time?” “I would never forget that scar,” I said, glaring at him. “I touched it a thousand times. It runs from left to right, about two inches long, and the middle is slightly raised and lighter than the surrounding skin. I could draw it with my eyes closed.” Officer Miller remained silent for a moment before turning to the medical examiner standing nearby. “Can you explain this?” The medical examiner walked over, examined the left wrist closely, and then checked the right one. “There is indeed no scar tissue here,” she said. “But DNA doesn’t lie. Unless…”

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I was desperately, miserably in love with Selene. Even though she kept a string of lovers on her leash, and had openly cheated on me with Hunter—her family’s former adopted heir. I still couldn’t bring myself to let her go. I hit the gym religiously, pumped my body with endless fertility medications, all because I desperately wanted to have a child with her to secure our marriage. Until today, when the doctor finally told me my fertility metrics had met the standards. Holding the lab report, I rushed to her office without wasting a single second. “Selene, I—” My voice caught in my throat. Selene was wrapping her arms around her newly hired male secretary, kissing him passionately. Hearing me enter, she cast a cold, irritated glance over her shoulder. “Get the hell out!” At that exact moment, a cold splash of reality hit me. I could tolerate having a cheating wife. But could our future child tolerate having a mother like this? *** ### It was half an hour later when the office door finally clicked open. Out stepped the new secretary. He casually adjusted his rumpled shirt, throwing me a smug, disdainful smirk before sauntering down the hallway. I had witnessed this kind of silent provocation hundreds, if not thousands of times. In the beginning, it would break my heart and leave me in tears. But now? I was entirely numb to it. I pushed the door open and walked in. Hearing my footsteps, Selene turned her head. The moment her eyes fell on me, her brow furrowed in habitual annoyance. “What are you doing back here?” “Didn’t I tell you to stop coming to my office for no damn reason?” I hesitated. Quietly, I slipped the fertility lab report deep into my bag and spoke in a calm, flat voice: “Selene, let’s get a divorce.” The hand Selene used to hold her slim cigarette paused mid-air. She let out a mocking laugh and looked at me. “What? You can’t take it anymore?” “Lest you forget, you were the one who begged on your knees and signed that prenuptial agreement, giving up your dignity just to marry into my family.” As soon as the words left her mouth, her phone on the desk buzzed twice. It was Hunter. Selene glanced at the screen. She didn’t even bother to dismiss me, answering the call right in front of me. Her voice instantly turned sweet and dripping with affection: “Hey, babe. Miss me already?” “Of course I love you the most. You’re my only baby.” “You’re back in the country? Great, I’ll see you in a bit.” A man’s low, playful laughter drifted faintly from the receiver. A few minutes later, Selene hung up and redirected her icy gaze back to me. She tilted her chin toward a corner of her massive mahogany desk. “The divorce papers are right there. I’ve already signed my part.” “If you want to sign it, go ahead.” “It’s not like this is the first or second time you’ve thrown a tantrum about getting a divorce.” Selene stood up, grabbed her designer coat from the back of her chair, and walked toward the door. She paused at the threshold, throwing a cold warning over her shoulder: “Oh, and don’t bother waiting up for me tonight. Stop playing the dutiful, pathetic husband waiting at the door.” “It annoys me, and it makes my mother nag at me every time she sees you like that.” With that, she opened the door and walked out without a single backward glance. Faced with Selene’s relentless humiliation and disdain, I probably should have collapsed onto the floor, sobbing my heart out. But strangely, My eyes were completely dry. I couldn’t squeeze out a single tear. I walked over to her desk, pulled out the divorce agreement, and flipped to the last page. Selene’s elegant, sharp signature was already penned there. “Heh.” I shook my head, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle. I didn’t even bother reading the clauses about property division or alimony. None of it mattered to me anymore. I pulled a pen from the holder. Stroke by stroke, I wrote down my name, Ashton, and took my copy of the agreement. It was only when I walked out of the corporate building that I pulled two other papers from my pocket: the fertility approval sheet, and an early-stage stomach cancer diagnosis. I had honestly wanted to leave a child behind for her. *** ###

When I returned to the estate, Victoria was waiting for me in the living room. The moment she saw me, she hurried over. “Ashton, you’re back!” “You went to the hospital for your check-up today, right? Did the results come out? I noticed you haven’t had much of an appetite lately. Are you feeling unwell?” I lowered my gaze, forcing a calm lie: “I’m fine, Victoria.” “The doctor said it’s just some minor indigestion and stomach sensitivity. Nothing to worry about.” Victoria had always been incredibly kind to me. Since I had already decided to divorce Selene, there was no need to make this gentle older woman worry about my health. The anxiety on Victoria’s face softened, and her tone remained warm: “Oh… thank goodness. Your health is the most important thing. I’ll have Maria brew some herbal tea to soothe your stomach. Drink it before bed, okay?” “Thank you, Victoria.” Victoria seemed to have more to say, but the heavy front doors of the villa were suddenly pushed open. Was Selene back? Didn’t she say she wasn’t coming home tonight? A pair of polished black leather shoes stepped into the foyer, followed by a smug, handsome face. It was Hunter. “Good evening, Victoria. Hey, Ashton.” “Selene brought me over for dinner. I hope you don’t mind.” The smile on Victoria’s face instantly froze. She whipped her head around, glaring at Selene with sheer fury. No matter how wild Selene acted outside, Victoria could turn a blind eye as long as it wasn’t brought into the open. But bringing her side-piece into our family home was a direct slap to my face. “Selene, how dare you—” I quickly stepped forward, gently rubbing Victoria’s back to soothe her. “Victoria, please calm down. Remember what the doctor said about your high blood pressure. Anger is bad for your heart.” “It’s just dinner.” Then, I turned around to face Selene and Hunter. I offered them a polite, empty smile. “I don’t mind at all.” “Maria, please set two more plates. Dinner is ready. You two can wash up and join us.” Perhaps my reaction was too peaceful. Selene raised an eyebrow in surprise, searching my face as if trying to figure out what kind of mind game I was playing. At the dining table, Hunter was radiant. He constantly used his fork to pile Selene’s favorite dishes onto her plate, his voice dripping with artificial sweetness: “Selene, try this. You’ve been working so hard lately, you need to eat more.” Selene didn’t reject his advances. Instead, she smiled, picked up a piece of perfectly deboned fish, and held it to Hunter’s lips. “You should eat too, babe.” Hunter giggled, taking it from her fork. As he chewed, his eyes darted toward me, flashing a triumphant, mocking look. Victoria’s face turned completely pale. Unable to tolerate the disrespect any longer, she slammed her bowl onto the table with a loud *clack*. “I’m done.” She got up and left the dining room in a hurry. I didn’t raise my head. I just kept chewing my food slowly and methodically. The doctor had told me this morning that because it was early-stage stomach cancer, we had caught it just in time. But I had to eat properly to prepare my body, or I wouldn’t even survive the surgery next week. Selene found my dead-silent reaction incredibly boring. Seeing that Victoria had left the table, she leaned into Hunter’s chest and said loudly, deliberately aiming her words at me: “Oh, by the way, Ashton. Don’t sleep in the master bedroom tonight.” “Hunter and I are using it.” “Go sleep in the guest room on the third floor.” Hunter let out a soft, performative laugh, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist. “Oh, Selene… don’t say things like that in public. It’s so embarrassing…” Only then did I look up, my voice steady: “Sure.” I stood up from my chair. “I’m finished. Enjoy your dinner.” The master bedroom or the guest room made no difference to me. I wasn’t picky about where I slept. For a cancer patient, getting enough sleep was my only priority. But my total indifference seemed to light a sudden, inexplicable fire in Selene’s chest. She abruptly shoved Hunter away, stood up, and blocked my path in three large strides. She grabbed my wrist with bruising force, her voice laced with sudden rage: “Stop right there!” “Ashton, who the hell do you think you’re giving attitude to?” *** ###

Her sudden burst of anger caught me off guard. What was Selene even mad about? In the past, I had behaved like a hysterical madman. I had done everything to track down evidence of her affairs, checked her phone for endless flirty texts, and tried to block every man who came near her. Back then, she despised me for it. She called me a psycho, a controlling freak. Now that I was finally giving her the freedom she wanted, why was she still angry? I felt incredibly exhausted. I took a deep breath, gently but firmly prying her fingers off my wrist. “I’m not giving you attitude, Selene. I’m just tired and want to rest.” I took two steps, then paused as something crossed my mind. I turned back. “By the way, I’ve signed the divorce papers. My signed copy is in my bag, and yours is back on your desk. If you have time tomorrow morning, let’s go to the attorney’s office to file the paperwork. It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes.” “I haven’t told Victoria about this yet. Her health is fragile, and I don’t want to shock her. You should find a gentler way to tell her later.” Selene let out a harsh, bitter laugh, her words dripping with sarcasm: “You’re calling her ‘Victoria’ already? How ungrateful.” “Ashton, if my mother hadn’t literally threatened to starve herself to death, a guy like you would have never even crossed my path, let alone married into the corporate dynasty.” My fingernails dug into my palms, turning my fingertips white. But I didn’t want to argue. I just kept my head down, remaining silent. My silence made Selene feel like she was punching a wall of soft cotton. Her irritation flared even higher. She pushed her plate away and stood up abruptly. “Fine! You’re in such a rush to leave? Let’s go tomorrow!” The next morning, the silence in the back of the town car was suffocating. Suddenly, Selene turned her head, a cruel, mocking smile playing on her lips. “Too bad Hunter was still asleep and couldn’t join us. Otherwise, once we file these papers, I could have proposed to him right outside. He’s been with me for years; it’s time I gave him a legal title.” I knew she was trying to get a rise out of me, so I didn’t take the bait. Instead, I turned to look at her. “Since we’re legally parting ways today, can you tell me the truth?” “Selene, why have you hated me so passionately all these years?” *** ###

The air in the car instantly froze. Selene’s throat bobbed, as if she were desperately suppressing a wave of fury. After a long pause, she whipped her head around and glared at me with pure venom. “Because you deserved it!” “Honestly, when I first met you, I actually liked you. But then you just *had* to play the desperate, pathetic puppy who wanted to marry into my family. You made my mother use her own life to force me into this marriage!” “I am so sick of it! I am sick of my mother controlling every single aspect of my life! I wanted freedom! I told you that back then, and you said you didn’t care as long as you could be with me. Well, this is what you get. You brought this entirely on yourself!” Selene screamed the words in one breath. Then, she slumped back against the leather seat, panting heavily. I listened to her, quiet and still. I wasn’t shocked, just incredibly amused by the sheer absurdity of it all. Looking at her flushed, angry face, I offered a sincere apology: “I’m sorry, Selene. For wasting these past few years of your life.” “Now that we are divorced, I promise I will never bother you again.” Selene didn’t reply, her brow furrowing even tighter. By the time the filing was complete and we returned to the estate, Selene remained dead silent. I had no desire to irritate her further, so I retreated directly to the third-floor guest room to pack my things. At dinner, the four of us sat together again: Victoria, Selene, Hunter, and myself. This time, Selene and Hunter weren’t acting overly touchy. But as the chandelier light caught Hunter’s wrist, my eyes snagged on a familiar glint of green. That was… That was my mother’s heirloom emerald bracelet! Shock and panic seized me. I stood up so fast my chair screeched, and I lunged across the table to grab Hunter’s wrist. “Give it back!” “That’s my mother’s bracelet! Who gave you permission to go into the master bedroom and ransack my jewelry box?” Hunter shrieked in pain as I gripped his wrist. But a split second later, a flash of smug satisfaction crossed his eyes. He instantly whimpered, tears pooling in his eyes. “What do you mean, your bracelet? Ashton, what are you talking about? I bought this myself a few days ago! I was planning on gifting it to Selene!” “Selene, he’s hurting me! Make him let go!” Selene stood up almost the exact second I grabbed Hunter. Hearing his whimper, she violently slapped my hand away without a shred of hesitation. “Ashton! Have you lost your damn mind? Let go of him!” “I knew you wouldn’t let this divorce go smoothly! It’s just a bracelet! If Hunter said he bought it, he bought it! Stop causing a scene over nothing!” I stared at Selene, my voice turning sharp and hysterical: “I’m causing a scene? Selene, open your eyes and look at it!” “This was in the safety deposit box of my mother’s estate! It’s her last legacy!” Selene glanced at the bracelet with irritation. It did look familiar. It probably was mine. But just as she opened her mouth to tell Hunter to take it off and give it back, Victoria slammed her hand on the table, standing up and pointing a shaking finger at Hunter. “You thief! I’ve seen that bracelet before. It belongs to Ashton. Give it back to him right now!” “You cheap, lying thief.” “Selene, let me tell you something. If you defend this parasite one more time, you will no longer have a mother!” Victoria’s threat instantly triggered Selene’s deep-seated rebellion. She stepped in front of Hunter, shielding him completely. “I said it’s Hunter’s, so it’s his.” “It’s just a piece of jewelry. I’ll buy Ashton a better one at the Sotheby’s auction tomorrow. Stop using every little thing to make Hunter’s life miserable!” Lies! That was the last physical memory I had of my late mother. Even if she bought me ten thousand bracelets, none of them would be the one my mother wore. Blinded by grief and panic, I threw myself forward, trying to wrench the bracelet from Hunter’s wrist. Selene pushed me back. Then Victoria joined the fray, trying to pull Selene away from me. In the chaotic scuffle, to keep me from reaching Hunter, Selene violently shoved me away— A massive force slammed into my shoulder. I didn’t expect her to use so much strength. My ankle twisted, and I lost my balance completely, falling backward like a chopped tree. *CRACK!* A sickening, dull thud echoed through the dining room. The lower half of my back slammed violently against the sharp, carved corner of the heavy mahogany dining table. In an instant, an agonizing, white-hot pain exploded from the point of impact, paralyzing my lungs and stripping away my ability to make a sound. Taking advantage of my fall, Selene grabbed Hunter’s hand and stormed out the door. “Stop! Selene, you absolute monster!” “Get back here! Someone stop them!” Victoria screamed at the top of her lungs, calling for the security guards. But Selene and Hunter had already vanished into the night. Victoria turned around, intending to comfort me, but the words died in her throat. Beside the dining table, I was slumped on the floor, surrounded by a rapidly expanding pool of dark red blood, my face as white as a sheet of paper. “Ashton—!” Victoria nearly fainted from shock. I was rushed to the ER, and the red “Surgery in Progress” light stayed on for an entire day and night. Meanwhile, Selene knew she was in the wrong. The next day, she took Hunter to an exclusive jewelry auction, intending to buy me an even more expensive emerald bracelet to replace the one she had let Hunter keep. While she was sitting in the VIP suite, browsing the catalog, The doors were suddenly kicked open. It was Victoria. Abandoning all her usual elegance and poise, she pushed past the bodyguards and stormed into the room. She held a thick manila envelope in her trembling hand. *SLAP!* Victoria marched right up to Selene and delivered a thunderous slap across her face. “Open it!” Victoria roared. Nursing her stinging cheek, Selene looked at Victoria’s devastated, tear-streaked face. For the first time, she felt a chill of panic. Seeing her hesitate, Victoria screamed again, “I said, open it!” With trembling fingers, Selene pulled the documents out of the envelope. Her eyes scanned the pages. Her pupils shrunk to pinpricks, and a horrific, strangled gasp escaped her throat: “No…” The tears Victoria had been holding back finally streamed down her face. She let out a broken, agonizing sob: “Look at it, Selene! Ashton is dead! You killed him! You killed my boy with your own hands!”

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When I was sixteen, a killer broke into our house, tortured and murdered my mother, and burned the place to the ground, erasing all the evidence. I was there. I watched the whole thing. My dad, my uncle, the cops—they asked me over and over what happened that night. I kept my mouth shut. They thought the trauma had made me mute, so they handed me a pen and paper, asking me to write down what the killer looked like. I still stayed silent. I didn’t move a muscle. Ten years later, I’m twenty-six. Because of my mother’s unsolved murder, my dad and I had a falling out. We hadn’t seen each other in eight years. But suddenly, he showed up. I came home from my shift to my tiny studio apartment, opened the door, and saw him sitting there with Uncle Leo. Both of them looked at me with freezing, cold eyes. “Vivian, did you kill your mother?” My body went completely rigid. I clenched my teeth, glaring at him with pure rage. He was my father. How could he even think, for a second, that I would kill my own mother? My dad read my expression and let out a cold, bitter laugh. “Then why won’t you tell us who did it?” “It’s been ten years, Vivian! How do you sleep at night? How do you eat?” “When you dream, does Susan’s burned body crawl out and ask you why you didn’t avenge her?!” I avoided his eyes and looked down. I didn’t know how to face him. He was only forty-six, but he looked sixty-four. The night my mom died, his hair turned white overnight. After that, he sold the house, the car, and everything we owned. He became obsessed, chasing leads like a madman, never giving up for ten long years. Now his back was hunched, but the burning desire for revenge in his eyes was still as sharp as ever. And now, he was locking onto me. “Vivian, how long are you going to play mute?” “I’ve been following you. You’re not mute! I saw you talking with my own eyes—” Furious, he pulled out his phone and played a blurry video. It was me, walking down the street. At a corner, I suddenly stopped, looked up, and murmured, “Don’t worry, don’t worry…” Then I looked down and kept walking. I had no idea my own father was stalking and doubting me. Suddenly, he grabbed my collar like a lunatic. “You know who the killer is! Why won’t you speak? Why play dumb?” “There’s only one explanation…” “You did it!” “You killed your mother!” Leo couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled David away from me. “Enough!” “My sister was tortured for hours before she died. How could Vivian do that to her?” My dad’s teeth gritted so hard I could hear them grinding. “She hated her mother! She’s a psycho!” “She’s capable of anything!” “Even if she didn’t pull the trigger, she’s an accomplice!” Looking into my dad’s bloodshot eyes, seeing the complex storm of emotions inside them, I knew my worst nightmare had come true. My dad had found out about the other case from ten years ago.

When I was sixteen, I was a sophomore in high school. My parents were always out of town running their business, and my grandma was too old to look after me. So my mom came back to our small town, rented an apartment for me, and stayed with me for a few months. Because she had been away for so long, and I was at that sensitive, awkward teenage phase, we barely spoke. We weren’t close at all. I went to school; she focused on her work. I usually came home late, but because she had to meet clients, negotiate prices, and go to business dinners, she came home even later. Once, I felt like someone was stalking me on my way home. I told her about it and asked her to pick me up after school. She promised she would, but she flaked. I waited for her at school until midnight. A massive thunderstorm hit. I couldn’t find anywhere to hide from the rain, so I had to run all the way home through the storm. That night, the nightmare happened. While taking a shortcut through a dark alley, the stalker jumped out and tackled me to the ground. The pouring rain and loud thunder swallowed my screams. When I finally stumbled back home, I was covered in half rain, half blood. My mom was fast asleep on the couch, the living room smelling heavily of alcohol. “Vivian?” Woken up by the metallic smell of blood, my mom opened her eyes. When she saw what I looked like, she sobered up instantly. She threw her arms around me and sobbed hysterically. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” “Vivian…” “It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault!” She said she was on her way to get me, but then a supplier offered her a drink, and she thought she could get a cheaper deal if she stayed. She thought I’d be fine. Ha. Maybe because of the physical pain, or maybe because of the burning hatred, I pushed her away. I didn’t want her to touch me. I only said one word: “911.” My mom started crying even harder. “We can’t call the cops!” “Vivian, if we call the cops, everyone in this town will know! How will you face people at school? What about your future? Your college applications?” “Mom is here, okay?” “I won’t leave anymore. I’ll stay here and protect you…” But less than three months later, she was brutally murdered. With her death, I thought that nightmare would stay buried forever. But my dad had found out. He slammed a worn, wrinkled notebook onto the table. “Your mother kept a diary. Before she died, she wrote down all the important things.” “She was afraid someone would find it, so she locked it in a metal box and hid it. It survived the fire, and now I have it.” My dad grabbed my collar again, shaking me. “Your mom made a mistake, but she didn’t mean to! She didn’t call the cops because she wanted to protect your reputation!” “How could you kill her for that?” “Are you even human?” My dad’s screams made my ears ring. Beside us, Leo didn’t try to stop him this time. Instead, with trembling hands, he picked up the diary from the table. It was indeed my mom’s neat handwriting. She had written about her guilt and how her negligence had led to my assault. There were smudges on the paper, likely from her tears. I could feel her deep, agonizing regret in every word. Leo finished reading, wiped his eyes, and said with a shaky voice, “David, calm down.” “Even with this… it doesn’t prove Vivian is the killer.” “My sister was stabbed over thirty times, and there were signs of sexual assault. Vivian couldn’t have done that.” Leo pushed my dad away, grabbing my hands with pleading eyes. “Vivian, did you hold a grudge against your mom, so you’re hiding the killer to punish her? Is that why you won’t help us find him?” “I swear to God, Vivian, if you just tell us who did it so your mom can rest in peace, I will get him myself!” “I’ll carve up the bastard who hurt you with my own hands!” Leo’s eyes were bloodshot, his gaze so intense I had to look away. Before I could react, my dad let out another bitter laugh. “You won’t need to do that. That piece of trash is already dead. And Vivian probably killed him!” “The police are already investigating. We’ll have answers soon.” “Vivian, I don’t want to throw my own daughter in prison.” “But I can’t let Susan rest in an unmarked grave of injustice. You forced my hand!”

They locked me in the room and took my phone. I could only sit there, waiting for the police investigation. My dad and Leo sat right outside, chain-smoking one cigarette after another. Whenever I locked eyes with my dad, I realized he didn’t see me as his daughter anymore. To him, I was an enemy. A monster that had tortured him for ten years. I didn’t blame him. I did watch my mother get murdered. I saw the killer’s face. I remembered everything. But no matter what he did, he would never get a single word out of my mouth. He loved my mom so much. After she died, getting revenge became the only thing keeping him alive. He had ruined his life, living like a ghost for ten years just to find the killer. But he had found nothing. Then he discovered I could speak, that I wasn’t actually mute from trauma, and that I was lying to him. I was hiding the truth. And then he found out about my assault. And the man who assaulted me had died a brutal death—his limbs broken and twisted—on a dark street corner just a week before my mom was killed. He suspected me. In his mind, I had a motive, and I was crazy and ruthless enough to do it. He believed I hated my mother, hired someone to kill her, and that was why I refused to name her killer. It was a very logical theory. I didn’t defend myself. I just silently waited for the police. *Ring… Ring…* My dad’s phone suddenly rang. He picked it up instantly. Detective Miller’s voice, which I knew all too well, came through the speaker. “David, are you with Vivian?” My dad’s voice was hoarse. “Yes! Did Vivian have anything to do with that bastard’s death?” “Yes. Keep her there. We’re on our way!” The moment the call ended, my dad’s fist crashed heavily into my face. “If you had the guts to kill the guy who hurt you, why did you have to hate your mother?” “She didn’t call the cops because she loved you! Things were different back then! She was terrified of the rumors destroying your life!” “Before she came back home, she couldn’t sleep at night. She would cry herself to sleep holding your picture!” “How… how could you…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. He completely broke down, burying his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Leo smoked in silence, looking at me as if I were a stranger. A monster. I held my swollen cheek, staring blankly at the ceiling. A tear slipped down my cheek, feeling slightly warm. I quickly wiped it away, whispering to myself in my head. *Soon. It’s almost over.* *Everything will end very soon.* Twenty minutes later, Detective Miller arrived with a few officers. He pulled out a pair of cold handcuffs and snapped them onto my wrists. “Vivian, you are under arrest in connection with a ten-year-old homicide. Come with us.”

In the interrogation room, Detective Miller put a crime scene photo on the table. Even though the man was dead, and even though ten years had passed. Seeing his face made me shudder uncontrollably. A deep, primal fear shook my soul. This was the man who had stalked and assaulted me ten years ago. It took me a long time to calm my breathing. Miller spoke. “Do you know him?” I nodded. “How?” There was no point in hiding it anymore. I reached for the pen to write it down, but Miller coughed. “Cut the act, Vivian. Your dad told us you can talk. You’re not mute.” I let out a bitter smile, dropped the pen, and spoke. “He assaulted me.” “Why didn’t you report it?” “My mom wouldn’t let me.” Miller’s voice turned incredibly sharp and intense. “So you took justice into your own hands and brutally murdered him?” I shook my head. “I didn’t kill him.” “Still denying it? Ten years ago, we couldn’t solve this case because of limited forensics. But after your dad prompted us to look into it again, we re-examined the victim’s preserved fingernail scrapings. We found your skin cells. The DNA is a perfect match.” Before I could say anything, Miller stood up, leaning over the table to pressure me. “Confess now, and I’ll talk to the DA for a plea deal. You were a minor ten years ago. You won’t get a long sentence.” “But if you keep fighting this, you will rot in prison for the rest of your life!” I just blinked, my expression unchanged. I wasn’t afraid of prison. Ten years ago, I had already prepared myself to spend the rest of my life behind bars. But now was not the time. Miller was bluffing. His evidence was weak, and he didn’t have enough to convict me. I took a deep breath and looked him dead in the eye. “I told you, I didn’t kill him.” “Then why is your DNA on his body?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember much from ten years ago. If you have solid proof, lock me up. If you don’t, let me go.” After that, no matter what they asked, I remained dead silent. Forty-eight hours later, they had nothing, and they had to release me. But the moment I stepped out of the precinct, my dad and Leo forced me into their car. Detective Miller pretended not to see, staying close by just to make sure things didn’t get violent. Inside the car, my dad glared at me with bloodshot eyes. “You talked to the detective. Drop the act.” “I’m asking you one last time. What happened the night your mother died?” “I swear to God, Vivian, if you keep lying to me, I will do something crazy.” “You can hire a hitman? So can I! I have plenty of ways to make you talk!” He looked completely insane. This unsolved case had lasted ten years. Ten years of my mother’s ghost begging for justice. It had driven everyone crazy. Honestly, I was losing my mind, too. Fortunately, I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. “Just wait. Give me one last month.” “In one month, I will tell you everything.” My dad gritted his teeth, shaking with rage. “Why a month? What game are you playing?” I didn’t answer. I looked out the window. Floating just outside the car was a soul that only I could see. She had been with me for ten years, and now she was about to fade away completely. I smiled slightly and waved in my mind. *Goodbye, Mom. I’ll be a good girl.* But in reality, I wouldn’t. I had lied to my dad for ten years. And I had lied to her for ten years, too.

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My childhood best friend lost contact while working deep undercover abroad. I immediately filed an application with the department to go in and assist him. When I finally found him, he was rotting. He had been tortured beyond recognition in a dark basement. But thankfully, he never opened his mouth. He kept his cover, and he kept his life. Over the next few years, the two of us worked in perfect, silent sync. Step by step, we climbed the ranks until we became the top two lieutenants of the cartel. We got closer and closer to the very core of the organization. Finally, on his 33rd birthday, we took them all down. The mission was complete. Looking at the plane tickets back home in my hand, my eyes suddenly welled up with tears. I hadn’t even flinched when I took a bullet to the shoulder last year, but now, I was sobbing. “Leo, our parents are avenged. We can finally go home.” I was just about to pull out the birthday gift I had prepared for him when Leo suddenly sighed. “Yeah. It’s been so long. I wonder if the old oak tree we used to climb still stands.” His eyes were red with emotion, but my heart stopped. A cold dread washed over me. Our parents had both been brutally murdered by drug traffickers when we were kids. Before we even entered the police academy, we knew we would face these monsters eventually. Back then, I suggested we cut our palms and become blood brothers, so that if one of us died, the other would carry on for both of us. But Leo had pointed at the oak tree in the backyard and said, “We’re already brothers, Mason. We don’t need a silly ritual. The ashes of our parents are buried right beneath this tree. All we need to do is get revenge. If there ever comes a day when one of us is captured, we must find a way to say the words ‘blood brothers’ to the other.” “It means: *I’m compromised. Do not believe a single word I say.*” But right now, we were completely safe. And yet, he had just looked me in the eye and brought up that tree. He wasn’t Leo. Then where was my best friend? Who was this man who had stood by my side, risking his life on the edge of a knife, fighting with me for years?

Noticing my sudden stiffness, “Leo” looked at me with concern. “What’s wrong, Mason?” he asked, his voice dripping with worry. “Is the PTSD kicking in? I know the pressure of the last few years has been insane.” Looking at the genuine concern in his eyes, I forced myself to relax slightly. My parents and his parents had been partners on the force. They were brutally tortured and killed by the cartel when we were young. Since then, I had suffered from severe insomnia and clinical anxiety. But I had Leo. Even though we were the same age, he was always the mature one, the strong one. With his help, I slowly put my shattered mind back together. Only Leo knew about my mental struggles. And I knew his face better than my own. The man standing in front of me looked exactly like my best friend. Even the tiny, faint scar near the corner of his lip was identical. Maybe he was just overwhelmed by the end of the mission? Maybe he actually forgot our secret code in the excitement? I decided to test him. “I’m fine. It’s just… when you mentioned the oak tree, I felt a pang of guilt.” “During the months you went missing, some cartel clean-up crew tracked down our old place and set it on fire. I was too busy preparing for my own undercover deployment to notice. The fire killed the tree. It burnt to ashes.” His eyes widened in shock. “Burnt? But our parents’ ashes were buried under it! Mason, did you manage to save them?” The burial of our parents’ ashes was a secret. No one in the world knew about it except the real Leo and me. My heart eased slightly. I was just about to answer when “Leo” rubbed his red eyes and sighed. “Forget it. What’s done is done. Don’t beat yourself up, Mason. We brought down the cartel. We got justice for them. Their spirits will understand.” He smiled warmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Besides, we are blood brothers. Whether the tree is there or not, we are brothers forever.” The words I was about to say choked in my throat like a fistful of dry gravel. He said it again. *Blood brothers.* If he had forgotten the code the first time, there was no way he wouldn’t have remembered it now. This was the sacred oath he made me swear the night before we entered the academy. It was about life, death, revenge, and our absolute core belief. We had branded those words into our very souls. “Yeah,” I forced a smile, my voice barely a whisper. “We’ll always be brothers.” “Leo, today is your birthday. Let’s not talk about sad things.” I subtly stepped back, breaking his touch, and pulled out the watch I had customized for him. Suddenly, my hand slipped. The watch hit the hard tile floor. The glass shattered. “Oh, damn it!” I gasped. “I am so sorry, Leo. Let me get this fixed. I’ll get you another one.” He waved his hand, smiling. “It’s fine, man. I don’t care about material stuff.” But I insisted. I told him I couldn’t leave the country without giving him a proper gift. I canceled our flight tickets. I needed to find my best friend on his birthday. Dead or alive. ***

While waiting for the new gift to be ready, “Leo” took me to a local arcade. He knew exactly what games I liked to play when I needed to decompress. He even remembered my favorite characters and combos. When I reflexively used my teeth to pop open a soda bottle, he frowned, grabbed the bottle, and scolded me just like the old days, nagging about germs and dental bills. Apart from the “blood brothers” phrase, he was perfectly, flawlessly Leo. “Mason, the last time we celebrated our birthdays together was five years ago, right?” During dinner, before I could even probe, “Leo” brought up the past. “I went behind your back and applied for the undercover op. When you found out, you lost your mind. We got into a massive fistfight.” “But you lost,” he chuckled, lighting a cigarette, his eyes filled with nostalgia. “You were so mad you cried and stayed up all night.” I remembered that night. We had agreed that I would be the one to go undercover. Leo had smiled and agreed to my face, but then stole the assignment behind my back. He wanted to sacrifice himself to protect me. He was the same age as me, but he always acted like a protective big brother. But was that Leo still alive? I clenched my fists under the table, forcing a chuckle. “Of course I remember.” “You went back on your word. I was so desperate I wanted to call Director Miller to beg him to swap us. What did you do then?” He laughed harder. “I confiscated your phone and locked you in your room. By the time you broke the door down, I was already on a flight out of the country.” I tried to laugh with him, but my facial muscles felt frozen. Our fistfight was public knowledge among a few close colleagues back at the precinct. But the part about him locking me in my room? Leo would have never told a soul. It was embarrassing and highly unprofessional. Yet, this man knew. He knew every single detail. How? How could he know so much? In the silence, “Leo” suddenly stood up and reached over with a napkin. “You still eat like a toddler. Wipe your mouth. How am I supposed to set you up on dates back home if you eat like a pig?” His nagging was so familiar, so warm, and so frustratingly comforting. My vision blurred. Memories of the years we spent relying only on each other rushed back. I wanted so badly for him to be real. Then, the final dessert was served—a classic Peach Cobbler. I had ordered it on purpose. I stared intensely at his face. I saw him freeze for a second, and then his eyes turned red. “Our parents loved peaches,” he whispered softly. “It’s a pity our ‘blood brother’ oak tree is gone. I wonder if they missed the sweet smell of peaches these past few years.” Every ounce of warmth in my chest vanished instantly. My mind went ice-cold. He said it again. *Blood brothers.* Once. Twice. Three times. He was not Leo. My instinct was to tackle him, call the local backup agents still cleaning up the city, and beat the truth out of him. But I didn’t dare. If the real Leo was still alive somewhere, any reckless move on my part could get him killed. I had to play along. I had to find out where Leo was. ***

But I couldn’t understand. When did the swap happen? Three years ago, Leo went dark. Out of the four undercover agents our department planted in the cartel, three were tortured and killed. Leo was the only survivor, but we lost contact with him. Everyone thought he was dead. Without hesitation, I volunteered to take over the mission. Three months later, with the department’s help, I managed to get close to one of the cartel’s mid-level bosses and successfully infiltrated the syndicate. That was when I saw Leo again. He was chained to the wall of a damp basement. His body was a map of raw, infected burns and cuts. He looked half-dead, but it was him. The boss who brought me down there laughed and said, “We probably got the wrong guy. The Big Boss suspected he was a fed, but no cop could survive six months in this hole without singing.” I didn’t dare show any emotion. In the brief second our eyes met, Leo looked at me. He was in agony, but his eyes were sharp, fierce, and unbroken. He silently mouthed five words: *Don’t worry. I’m okay.* I almost broke down right then and there. He had survived the torture that we thought no human could withstand. I was 100% sure that the Leo in the basement three years ago was the real Leo. Later, he cleared his name, got promoted within the cartel, and we started working together. He never betrayed me. In fact, he saved my life multiple times. So, the Leo of the past three years must have been real too. Exactly when did this impostor take his place? I racked my brain, but I couldn’t find a single gap. “Mason, the gift should be ready by now,” “Leo” said as we walked out of the restaurant. “Let’s grab it, book the earliest flight, and head home.” I couldn’t make up any more excuses to delay. I pretended to have a sudden, agonizing stomach cramp. I locked myself in a bathroom stall and messaged my handler, asking him to send over every encrypted log of our communication during the undercover years. We had pretended not to know each other, communicating only through cyphers left at dead drops. I needed to read every single word. I needed to analyze the syntax, the slang, the tiny habits to see if there was a shift in tone. But after reading them three times, I found absolutely nothing. Outside, “Leo” knocked on the door. “Mason? If your stomach is that bad, I’ll run to the pharmacy. If we delay any longer, we’re going to miss the red-eye flight.” His voice made my skin crawl. A sudden, terrifying thought hit me. What was the point of this impersonation? ***

If he was an impostor, to know these intimate details about our childhood, he must have captured the real Leo and tortured the information out of him. But if he had already captured Leo and compromised us, why did he let the entire cartel get destroyed? And now, instead of running away with his money, he was actively trying to enter the United States with me—a place where law enforcement would make his life ten times harder. “Mason!” “Talk to me, man!” “You didn’t pass out on the toilet like Wyatt did back in academy, did you?” He sounded genuinely worried, knocking louder. “I’m coming out!” I called back. The puzzle pieces weren’t fitting. If he wanted to fool me, knowing my childhood was enough. Why would he remember a stupid story about our classmate Wyatt passing out in the bathroom six years ago? Even under extreme torture, no cartel interrogator would ask about classmate gossip. And Leo would never crack. His conviction was absolute. He would never bow to these monsters. I walked out, and he immediately checked my forehead for a fever. His worry looked 100% real. Could it be… that the years of psychological trauma had messed up Leo’s mind? Had his memory fractured, making him truly believe we had a literal “blood brother” ritual? That was the only logical explanation left. “Leo, let’s go to the hospital,” I muttered, holding my stomach. “I think my ulcer is flaring up again.” Before I could finish, “Leo” grabbed a passing waiter. “Where is the nearest ER?” Once he got the address, he threw my arm over his shoulder and practically carried me to a cab. He didn’t even look this panicked when he was chained up in that basement. My throat tightened. I wanted to believe he was real. I went to the hospital to buy time. I had secretly messaged a local backup agent to meet us at the hospital and quietly collect a hair sample from “Leo” for an express DNA test. If he was the real Leo, we would go home together. If he was fake, I would arrest him right there. I managed to snag a few strands of his hair from his jacket and handed them to the undercover agent in the hospital hallway. The next twenty hours of waiting felt like a slow death. Finally, my phone buzzed. *“DNA matches Leo Vance. The sample is clean. He is who he says he is.”* The moment I read the text, I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for years. I could finally breathe. I ran back to his room. “My stomach is fine now, Leo. Let’s go home! Let’s get the hell out of here!” He grinned, relieved, and immediately pulled out his phone to book the flight. In the Uber to the airport, I finally let my guard down. We talked about where we’d go for vacation, and how we would take our parents’ ashes to all the places they had wanted to visit but never got the chance to. It felt like stepping out of hell straight into heaven. Knowing Leo was alive and safe was all that mattered. “Oh, wait—” As we pulled up to the airport terminal, “Leo” suddenly snapped his fingers. “We don’t have much savings, and the department’s bonus is going to take months to clear probate. We don’t have the cash to travel right now, do we?” “How about we dig up the stash our parents left us? We agreed back then that once we got revenge, we could finally use it.” My body went completely rigid. “What stash?” “Leo” laughed naturally. “What do you mean, ‘what stash’? Did you forget?” “The cash we buried under the Tree of Wrath.” My eyes widened. Cold sweat broke out across my entire body, and my blood turned to ice. There was no “Tree of Wrath.” There was only the oak tree. “Tree of Wrath” was a code word we used to describe our target list. It was a psychological tool we created to keep our hatred alive, to remind ourselves never to compromise, never to give up. And there was no treasure. Only our parents’ ashes.

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My intern, Chloe, used a cheat called [Success Transfer] on me. No matter how many multi-million-dollar deals I closed, the moment twenty-four hours passed, her name would magically appear on the contract. Even the clients’ memories of me would be glitched and rewritten with her face. In my past life, to win the Top Sales award, I worked day and night to land Mr. Vance—the notorious real estate tycoon whom everyone called “The Dream Killer.” I worked myself to the bone and finally got his signature. But at the victory banquet the next day, the person surrounded by flowers and applause was Chloe. I demanded answers. I made a scene. But everyone just looked at me like I was a crazy, jealous senior employee trying to bully a rookie. Because there it was, in black and white on the contract: *Chloe*. Even Mr. Vance himself pointed at my face and sneered, “Who the hell are you? I’ve never seen you before! The woman who drank with me and signed the deal was Miss Chloe!” I cried and begged security to pull up the CCTV footage. But in the video, the woman sitting across from Vance—though wearing my exact clothes—had Chloe’s face. In despair, I went to my manager, Marcus, to appeal. Instead, he humiliated me in front of the entire office. “Elena, if your sales numbers suck, go practice. What kind of person tries to steal credit from an intern?” Marcus scoffed. “And now you’re making up this insane sci-fi story? Are you that desperate for money?” I posted my story online, but netizens doxed me, calling me a toxic coworker and a bitter, incompetent older woman. Only I knew the truth. My body still bore the cigarette burns I got while blocking drinks for that client. But the next morning, even those scars vanished from my skin. They had transferred to Chloe’s arm. Wearing those scars like a badge of honor, she became the company’s heroic, dedicated star. Meanwhile, I was fired for “mental instability.” That very night, in the pouring rain, I was struck and killed by an out-of-control truck. I never expected to open my eyes again. But I did. I was back to the morning after I had signed the fifty-million-dollar deal. There were only five minutes left before my success was transferred.

Back in the past, I stared intensely at the digital clock on my phone. 【08:59 AM】 If my memory was correct, that fifty-million-dollar contract—the legendary deal of the year—would officially become Chloe’s property at exactly nine o’clock. The suffocating despair of my past life rushed over me, but I quickly forced it down. Since this bizarre [Success Transfer] could even transfer physical injuries… I was going to give Chloe a “gift” she would never forget. Honestly, I wanted to expose her right then and there. But my brutal death in my past life had taught me a lesson: in a world where the rules of reality could be glitched, no one would believe me. Right then, my phone buzzed. A company-wide WhatsApp notification popped up. *“Congratulations to our sales intern, Chloe, for successfully closing the $50 million deal for ‘Dragon’s Bay Luxury Condos’! A new company record!”* I glanced at the clock. The digits flicked to 【09:00 AM】. Almost instantly, cheers erupted across the open-plan office. “Oh my god! Chloe, you are literally a goddess!” “The Rookie Queen! Fifty million dollars!” At that exact second, I felt a sharp, brief pull in my mind, as if some vital memory was being forcibly yanked out of my brain. Then, the physical contract sitting on my desk vanished into thin air. A few yards away, Chloe was surrounded by a worshipful crowd, holding the very contract I had nearly died to get yesterday. Her face was flushed with excitement as she played the shy, modest girl. “Oh, stop it, guys! It was just luck. Mr. Vance was super sweet. He’s not as tough as everyone says.” A bitter taste rose in my throat. *Vance was sweet?* That old creep had forced me to down three bottles of hard liquor last night while trying to slide his hand up my thigh. If I hadn’t fought tooth and nail to keep him at bay, he would have devoured me alive! Just then, our manager, Marcus, pushed open his office door, his face stretched into a massive, greedy grin. “Chloe! Brilliant job! Your commission on this is a cool one million! The company has decided to bypass protocol and promote you to Sales Supervisor immediately!” Then, his cold, sneering gaze drifted over to my corner. “Elena, look at her and take some notes! You’ve been here for three years and haven’t closed a single decent deal.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “All you do is occupy space and wait for a paycheck. Look at the drive this rookie has!” I looked up, meeting Marcus’s condescending eyes. A one-million-dollar commission. The supervisor position. All of that was supposed to be mine. But I only offered a mild, quiet smile. “You’re right, Marcus. Since Chloe has so much drive, maybe she should take a crack at the remaining account on our list?” Marcus blinked, looking at me like I had lost my mind. The surrounding coworkers went dead silent. Their expressions turned weird. *“Is Elena talking about ‘The Darkroom Lounge’ account?”* *“That account is a death sentence! I heard the client is a literal mobster!”* *“She’s obviously jealous of Chloe. She wants to use a trash account to spite her.”* Ignoring the whispers, I reached onto my desk and picked up a dusty, neglected folder. It was the company’s biggest toxic asset—a bad debt project that was completely unrecoverable. Anyone we sent there usually got beaten up. The client was a real-life gangster named Jax, widely known as “The Dragon.” In my past life, the company had sent three male sales reps. All three were carried out with broken legs. I had thought about taking it on back then to prove myself, but ultimately backed out. But in this life? Now that I knew my success—and my injuries—would be transferred… What if it was a “criminal success”? What if it was a “fatal injury”? Suddenly, Chloe’s sweet, mocking voice broke the silence. “Elena, I know you’re under a lot of pressure to meet your quota.” She sighed dramatically. “But you shouldn’t embarrass yourself with an impossible account like that. If you’re really that desperate, I can share a tiny bit of my commission with you. Consider it charity.” A wave of snickers went through the office. “Chloe is way too nice!” “Elena, you better say thank you! Cling to her coat-tails and maybe you won’t get fired!” I didn’t blink. I just stared at Chloe’s fake, pretty face. Enjoy your spotlight, sweetie. Because the higher you climb today, the harder you’ll splat tomorrow. I slammed the “Darkroom Lounge” file onto my desk. “No, thank you.” I looked directly at Marcus and Chloe. “Since Chloe doesn’t want it, I’ll take it.” “In fact, let’s make a wager.” “If I don’t close this deal, I’ll pack my bags and resign immediately.” “But if I do…” I paused, letting my gaze linger on them. “I run the sales department from now on.”

The entire office erupted. Marcus stared at me like I was a brain-dead idiot, then burst into a mocking laugh. “Elena, you said it, not me. If you want to go beg for a beatdown, I won’t stop you.” Chloe tried to look shocked, but a spark of pure greed flashed in her eyes. “Elena, Jax ‘The Dragon’ is dangerous. Don’t do something reckless,” she said, feigning worry. “If you end up in the ICU and can’t pay your medical bills, it won’t be worth it…” Oh, I knew exactly what she was thinking. If I actually pulled this off, the “Success Transfer” would kick in after 24 hours, and all the glory would belong to her anyway. It would probably catapult her straight to the executive suite. I smiled at her hidden excitement, grabbed my purse, and walked out of the office. I hailed a cab straight to “The Darkroom Lounge” on the edge of the city. On the way, I pulled a box cutter out of my bag and bought a bottle of cheap, high-proof whiskey from a liquor store. This time, I was going all in. According to my past life’s memories, Jax was an extremely superstitious mob boss. More importantly, he was currently deeply entangled in a massive federal money-laundering investigation and was desperately looking for a fall guy. This was exactly what I needed. At the entrance of the lounge, several heavily tattooed bouncers blocked my path. “The hell do you want, girl? Looking for trouble?” Expressionless, I popped the cap off the whiskey bottle and chugged a massive gulp. The burning liquid scorched my throat, making my eyes water. But I didn’t stop. I needed to get myself into a state of visible, wild desperation. “Tell Jax,” I screamed, smashing the half-empty bottle onto the pavement, “I have a way to clean his money!” The bouncers froze. Clearly, they hadn’t seen many women this unhinged. A few minutes later, I was dragged into a smoke-filled VIP lounge. Sitting in the center was a massive, scarred man with a fierce black dragon tattooed across his neck. Jax. He squinted at me, casually flipping a switchblade in his hand. “Clean my money? You?” Suppresing the urge to vomit, I forced myself to stand tall. “I’m a sales representative from Shanga Real Estate. We can draft a double-sided laundering agreement. On paper, you’re buying luxury properties. In reality, we can inflate the renovation and maintenance costs to make your cash legally clean.” Jax’s eyes lit up. But gangsters are naturally paranoid. He snapped the switchblade open and pointed it at my throat. “Why should I trust you? How do I know you’re not a fed?” This was the climax. I took a deep breath, stepped forward, and held out my right hand, palm up. “If you don’t trust me, leave a mark. The old-school way. Once blood is drawn, the pact is sealed.” Jax stared at me, then erupted into a booming laugh. “Damn! You’ve got guts! I love crazy women!” He grabbed my hand. The cold blade sliced ruthlessly into my palm. Blinding pain shot up my arm. But I bit my lip and didn’t make a sound. Blood dripped onto the glass table. Jax used the tip of his blade to carve a crude, tiny “Dragon” symbol directly into my flesh. It was his personal mark. The brand he put on all his scapegoats. “Where’s the contract? Give it to me!”

With a trembling hand, I pulled the prepared documents from my bag. It wasn’t a standard property purchase contract. It was a dirty money-laundering agreement containing a clause that read: *“The signee voluntarily assumes all legal liabilities.”* And most importantly, under the signature line… I didn’t write my name. Instead, I pressed my bleeding palm directly onto the paper, leaving a thick, scarlet handprint. Jax didn’t bother reading the fine print. He signed his name and stamped it with his seal. “Now get out! Have the paperwork processed by tomorrow!” Clutching my bleeding hand, I walked out of the lounge. It was 3:00 PM. I had exactly twenty-four hours before the transfer. I didn’t go to the hospital. I just wrapped my hand loosely with some gauze. This wound had to stay fresh. When I got home, I turned off my phone and unplugged my router. Even though the pain made me break out in a cold sweat, I just curled up on my couch, staring at the ticking wall clock. These twenty-four hours were pure torture for me. But for Chloe, they were a victory lap. The next morning, carrying the blood-stained contract, I walked into the office. Chloe was standing by the reception desk, showing off a brand-new Hermès bag to a group of kissing-up coworkers. “Oh, please, Mr. Vance insisted! I told him no, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Seeing me enter, she dramatically covered her nose. “Yikes, Elena. What is that smell? Alcohol and blood? Disgusting.” She smirked. “So, how did the deal go? Did you get thrown out on your butt?” Everyone gathered around, waiting for a show. Ignoring her, I marched straight into Marcus’s office. “It’s signed.” I tossed the sealed envelope onto his desk. Marcus, who was sipping coffee, spat it out all over his keyboard. “Signed?! No way!” He ripped open the envelope. When he saw the official red seal of Jax’s front company, his eyes practically popped out of his skull. “It’s real… and it’s a cash buy?! Fifty million in cash?!” Because the office door was wide open, Marcus’s shout echoed through the entire floor. Chloe’s face went pale. She burst into the room and snatched the contract. “This is impossible! How could Jax sign this?! Elena, did you forge his signature?!” Looking at her distorted, ugly expression, my lips curled into a dark smile. “Why don’t you have legal verify it then?” I whispered. “But why are you so worked up, Chloe? Don’t tell me… you want this contract too?”

Chloe’s eyes flickered. I had hit the bullseye. A fifty-million-dollar cash deal meant her commission would double. She stared at the paper, her greed practically oozing out. But I knew she was just waiting for the 24-hour mark to hit. Once the time was up, the contract and all the credit would automatically transfer to her. I glanced at the clock on the wall. 【02:58 PM】 Two minutes left. I was waiting too. “Marcus,” I said suddenly, “this contract is a bit special. It was signed in blood.” I raised my right hand and slowly unraveled the gauze. The crude, scarred “Dragon” symbol on my palm was scabbed over, but it still looked horrific. “Jax said it’s his rule. Whoever signs the deal must carry his mark.” Marcus gasped. “Jesus… that’s barbaric.” But Chloe’s eyes locked onto my palm like she had just found a goldmine. I knew exactly what she was thinking. She figured that once the success transferred, the scar would transfer too. To her, that wasn’t a mutilation; it was the ultimate proof of her “loyalty” to show off to the higher-ups and Jax. The second hand ticked. 【02:59:50】 【02:59:55】 I looked at Chloe, silently counting down in my head. Three. Two. One. 【03:00 PM】 Suddenly, a familiar wave of dizziness washed over me. In the next instant, the throbbing pain in my palm vanished completely. I looked down. My skin was smooth, flawless, and completely unblemished. But across from me, Chloe suddenly shrieked. “Ahhh! My hand!” She grabbed her right palm, blood instantly spurting through her fingers. Everyone panicked. “Chloe! What’s wrong?!” Marcus rushed over. With a trembling hand, Chloe let go. Right there in the center of her palm was the crude, freshly bleeding carve of the “Dragon” symbol! And on the desk, the signature line of the contract—which had been a bloody handprint a second ago—now read *“Chloe”* in shaky, handwritten ink. The eyes of the surrounding coworkers went vacant for a split second before snapping back into focus. Their memories had been rewritten. Marcus froze, then let out a euphoric yell. “Oh my god, Chloe! You signed this deal?!” “I knew it! How could a loser like Elena ever handle Jax? You sacrificed your own flesh for this company! You are an absolute hero!” The coworkers snapped out of their daze and immediately showered her with praise. “Chloe, you are incredible! That is hardcore!” “You literally bled for this deal! Elena, look at her! You should be ashamed!” “Elena was just trying to steal her credit earlier. What a parasite!” Chloe was sweating from the pain, but the adoration turned her agony into pure ecstasy. She held up her bloody hand, glaring at me triumphantly. “See this, Elena?” she sneered. “This is the difference between you and me. You could never close a deal like this in a million years.” Looking at her foolish, doomed face, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “You’re right, Chloe. You’ve got serious guts.” “I just hope you can keep that same energy when the cops get here.”

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Tomorrow is my wedding day. But tonight? I found Julian Thorne in bed with Ava Maxwell. Again. My billionaire fiancé. And my college bully. I pushed open the penthouse door. Julian didn’t even flinch. He just leaned back, lit a cigarette, and pulled Ava closer. “Yeah. We did it again.” Julian smirked. He blew out a cloud of smoke. His voice was almost cruel in its honesty. “What can I say, Nora? Old habits die hard.” “But don’t worry. You still get the ring. Tomorrow’s wedding is on.” He traced a finger down Ava’s spine. His cold eyes locked on me. “Think of it as a gift, Nora. Watching your Ivy League queen crawl into my bed and stay hidden — doesn’t that feel like sweet payback?” “Be a good girl. Get out. Tomorrow, you’ll still be my perfect bride.” From the bed, Ava shot me a smug, wicked smile. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just smiled back. Turned on my heel and walked out. And gently clicked the door shut. Julian didn’t know the truth. I wasn’t here to catch him cheating. I came to the St. Regis for a thrill of my own — with tomorrow’s groom. … Five years. Julian and I were Wall Street’s power couple. He was cold. Ruthless. A total control freak. But once… he was actually good to me. At least… until Ava walked back into his life. Sophomore year at Columbia. Ava and her sorority girls cornered me. They ruined my dress. Shredded my final project. I was left freezing in the New York rain. Pathetic. Broken. Like a stray cat. Then came Julian. The Wharton prodigy. We only knew each other from a college investment competition. End of story. Yet he took off his expensive coat. Draped it over my shaking shoulders. He crouched down right there. Picked up my ruined papers, piece by piece. “Who did this?”

I didn’t say a word. He didn’t push it. Just turned and walked toward the girls still laughing nearby. I didn’t catch exactly what happened next. I only remember the smiles instantly dropping from their faces. Replaced by pure panic. Soon after, every anonymous post targeting me disappeared from the campus forum. Then, a hedge fund under the Maxwell empire was hit by an SEC probe, left reeling. The fallout left Ava’s father scrambling to contain the damage. And she was forced to lay low. It wasn’t until right before graduation that I learned the truth. Julian orchestrated the whole thing. He couldn’t tear down the Maxwell empire, but he knew exactly where to hit. A warning to Ava — she crossed the wrong person. The day he finally sought me out, he was waiting by the Columbia library steps. Hot latte in hand. That careless, expensive ease only someone like him could carry. “Heard you got the Goldman internship?” I nodded. A low hum. “So… would dating get in the way of your Wall Street career?” I froze. Something shifted in his expression — then came the smile. “Nora, let me take a shot at this. At us.” For a long time after, I thought that was the closest thing to redemption I’d ever known. In my most vulnerable moments, his voice was always there. “Don’t be afraid of them.” “I’ve got you.” That’s why, even as he got increasingly busy, his temper growing short, his texts turning into cold, clipped replies — I could never see him as the villain. At least… Until Ava came back.

Two years ago, Ava resurfaced in the New York social scene. By then, her name was already mud. After graduation, all her dirty laundry had been leaked. The bullying. The messy private life. Sent straight to the New York Post gossip column, complete with videos and chat logs. The Maxwell family moved quickly, but the damage was already done. They shipped her off to Europe to lay low. But the internet never forgets. When she came back, the Upper East Side parties didn’t worship her anymore. It probably didn’t take her long to trace the leak. To find out the original source was me. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t wronged. I was never a saint who repaid malice with kindness. Whatever she threw at me, I gave back ten times over. So, she hated me. But I never expected her to set her sights on Julian. The first time was at the Thorne Group’s anniversary gala. I arrived late because of a meeting. As soon as I walked in, I saw Ava. She was in a striking red gown, champagne flute in hand, standing right in front of Julian — a bright, almost innocent smile on her face. Julian looked entirely indifferent. He turned to his assistant. “Tell Legal to terminate all partnerships with the Maxwells.” Ava’s face stiffened. But she quickly recovered, asking softly, “Julian, are you taking this out on me for Nora?” Julian gave her a cold glance. “You already know the answer. Stay away from me.” I won’t deny it. In that moment, I felt relieved, even quietly, guiltily glad. After all these years, he still remembered. But later, things began to shift.

Ava pulled some strings. She managed to get hired by one of Thorne Group’s downstream partners. With constant workplace encounters, she always found a way to make her presence known. Deliberately delivering the wrong files, just to apologize with red-rimmed eyes. Sending him late-night messages in the group chat. “Long day, Julian. You okay?” Grabbing his drinks at business dinners, casually bringing up old college memories. At first, Julian genuinely didn’t care. He would even frown in front of me. “Is she psychotic?” I told him, “Just stay away from her.” He pulled me into his arms. Kissed my forehead. He sounded annoyed, but certain. Safe. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t touch her.” Back then, I really believed him. Until one day. I accidentally caught a glimpse of his phone lighting up. It was a message from Ava. I didn’t catch the content. But I saw the contact name plain as day. The cold, formal “Ava Maxwell” was gone. Replaced by a single letter. “A”. That night, I asked him. “Why did you change her contact name?” Julian was reviewing financial reports. He didn’t even look up. “Work purposes. Easier to find.” “Easy enough to need a single letter?” He finally looked up, his brows furrowing deeply. “Nora, why are you being so sensitive lately?” I froze. Because since Ava’s return, that was the first time he had spoken to me like that. Laced with accusation. “I just asked a question.” “And I just changed a name.” He slammed his phone face-down on the desk, visibly irritated. “Do you have to spin everything into the worst-case scenario? Is that fun for you?” “What is the worst-case scenario?” I stared at him. “Julian, can you honestly say nothing has changed between you two?” He fell silent for a second. Then, a cold scoff. “So what? How do you want me to prove it?” The argument ended in bitter silence. Later, he tried to coax me. Blamed his temper on the pressure of a recent merger. Told me to stop overthinking. I tried to convince myself. Maybe it really was just a contact name. But more often than not, a woman’s intuition is terrifyingly accurate.

Julian and Ava went on a business trip to Chicago. They were supposed to be back in three days. I FaceTimed him, but he didn’t pick up. A sudden, inexplicable panic gripped me. I booked the earliest flight to Chicago the next morning. At the Peninsula Hotel, the front desk refused to give out his room number. I had to call Julian’s assistant. Lied about an urgent contract left in his room. Just to get the information. The moment I swiped the keycard and pushed the door open… I saw men’s and women’s clothes scattered across the floor. Julian had just stepped out of the bathroom. His dark hair still wet. Only a towel wrapped around his waist. And on the bed… Ava. Wrapped in silk sheets, a snow-white shoulder exposed. She tilted her head to look at me. The smugness was plain to see. In that instant, the world went dead silent. Julian froze. The next second, he was walking quickly toward me. “Nora, let me explain—” I stared at him. My voice trembling uncontrollably. “Explain what?” “Something happened at the reception last night. I drank too much.” He reached out to touch me, but I dodged. His arm hung stiffly in the air. His tone was frantic, like never before. “When I woke up, she was just here. I swear…” “You swear what?” I looked at him, the tears finally breaking through. “Julian, do you think I’m an idiot?” Ava let out a light, mocking laugh. She spoke slowly, dragging out her words. “Julian, why try so hard to explain? Two consenting adults. A little alcohol. Isn’t it perfectly normal?” “Shut up!” Julian snapped his head back, his glare murderous. Ava shrugged. And said no more. Later, Julian chased me. He chased me all the way from the airport to my Manhattan apartment. He tried everything to beg for my forgiveness. He swore that night was truly an accident, promising to cut Ava off completely. I was the only woman he would ever want to marry, he insisted. To prove it, he even offered to take me to City Hall right then and there. Did I believe him? Not really. But in the end, I still nodded. Not because I still loved him enough to forgive the betrayal. But because right around that time… I had just found out Ethan Hayes was coming back to the States.

My phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a brief message. 1208. I turned around. Walked toward the other side of the elevator hall. I stopped in front of room 1208. Before I could even raise my hand, the door opened from the inside. The man looked down at me. His gaze lingered on my slightly red eyes for a second. Then he stepped aside. “Come in.” Only a single wall lamp was on. The lighting was dim, intimate. On the coffee table sat an open velvet box. Inside, resting quietly, was a men’s wedding band. I glanced at it. “For tomorrow?” I asked softly. “Yeah,” Ethan replied lightly. “Didn’t want to lose it. Just took it out to check the size.” He looked entirely calm. As if tomorrow we were attending an academic seminar, not our own wedding. Suddenly, a wave of irritation hit me. “Ethan, I just came from Julian’s room.” Ethan gave a faint “Hmm,” his expression unchanged. “He was with Ava,” I pressed on. “The second time. No, to be precise, the second time I’ve caught them with my own eyes.” “You already guessed it,” he said. “But guessing is one thing.” He looked at me, his voice low and steady. “Hearing it for yourself is another.” I managed a bitter smile. “You really do know me.” “Nora Hoffman.” He cut me off. “You didn’t come to me tonight to dissect your ex-boyfriend’s infidelity.” I looked up at him. He stood at the boundary between light and shadow. His features were clean and sharp. But his eyes were deep, unreadable — like looking into still water with no bottom. “You came to make one final confirmation. Whether or not you’re actually going to marry me tomorrow.”

The room was dead silent. I didn’t deny it. Because everything he said was right. After the Chicago incident, Julian did seem to behave. On the surface, at least. He kicked Ava out of all collaborative projects. Deleted her contact information. He even went house-hunting with me, finalized our wedding date. He practically wore “making it up to you” on his face. I almost believed he was really going to settle down. Until three months before the wedding. I found a lipstick in his car’s glove compartment. One that didn’t belong to me. The shade was a bold “Blood Rose.” And that exact night, Ava posted a selfie on Instagram. Wearing a bold red lip. The caption read: It’s always more fun when you have to fight for it. Julian started coming home late. Not just once or twice, but constantly. He never took a shower without his phone. Sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night. I’d see him standing on the balcony. A cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. The moment I walked over, he would put it out. Brushing it off as a work call. If I asked too much, he got annoyed. “Nora, why are you so sensitive lately?” “I run a massive corporation every day. I can’t revolve my whole life around you.” “The wedding is right around the corner. What are you still so insecure about?”

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It was our bonding ceremony,witnessed by the Moon Goddess. I had just fixed my laurel wreath.But my fiancé,the Alpha,Kyle,was gone. My mother was a pack elder. She came to me with red eyes and told me: “Kyle went to the Sacred Stone Altar in the east… The Alpha of the Cliffrock Pack abandoned Elara at their ceremony. Kyle went to finish the ritual for him.” Elara.The she-wolf who supposedly shared a fated bond with Kyle. She had been missing for years and was recently found. Of all days,she chose today to hold her bonding ceremony at the Cliffrock Pack. My mind went totally blank.I sprinted toward the Sacred Stone Altar. I peered through cracks in the ancient stone pillars. I saw Kyle. He gazed tenderly at Elara,holding the moonlight stone that sealed their vows. His eyes softened as he looked at Elara.”I do.” Those were the vows meant for me. I pushed past the guards. I demanded to know who he was actually bonding with today. He showed no panic. Right in front of both packs,he spoke with calm confidence. “Selene,don’t get mad.Let me explain.” “Elara almost had a mental breakdown just now. If she is left alone on the altar today,her wolf soul will shatter.” “The ceremony was already rehearsed—and flawless. Once I’m done here,I will come right back. We will finish our final moon kiss then,okay?” I looked at the two of them on the altar. They were gazing into each other’s eyes,radiating the scent of true mates. And suddenly,I couldn’t help but laugh. My seven years of support and companionship meant nothing. Less than a single tear from his fated mate. I tore the laurel wreath from my head. It was the symbol of Luna’s power. I tossed it into the dead ashes beside the altar. I’d rather have nothing at all than this…. “Selene,what are you doing?” Kyle’s voice echoed through the pack’s mind-link,bouncing off the empty altar walls. I stared at the holy leaves in the ashes. I didn’t look back. Up on the platform,Elara flinched. She tugged at the hem of Kyle’s suit. Kyle patted the back of her hand. He stepped down from the platform and stopped in front of me. “Today is witnessed by the moon goddess.Do you really have to make things so ugly?” “This is just a formality.Our rehearsal was perfect.What more do you want?” I looked at his expectant face. I had loved that face for seven years. Right now,it looked so foreign it made me sick. “Kyle,the ceremony ends here.” My tone was calm. His eyebrows locked together. He seemed annoyed that I was challenging his Alpha authority. “I will still pay for our pack’s celebration. Let the pack members enjoy the feast first. I won’t make things difficult for you.” “But I have to stay here to help Elara calm down. I’m here to keep her steady.” “Go back to the den and cool off. Don’t cause a scene here.You’ll make us a joke in front of both packs.” He reached out to touch my forehead. I turned away,dodging his touch. His hand froze in midair.His eyes darkened. “Selene,enough.”

I didn’t look at him again. I turned and walked deep into the forest. “That’s right.Go back and rest. Tomorrow I’ll bring you the freshest deer heart from the Blood Moon Forest.” His voice softened again.Like landing a punch,then smoothly holding out a piece of candy. I walked into the freezing forest.The cold wind bit at the back of my neck. I took out my communication crystal. I pulled up our appointment at the Elders’Council—the one to register our mate bond. I canceled it.Without a word. I went back to the Alpha packhouse.We had lived there for five years. I pushed open the door. A brand-new pair of snow fox fur boots gleamed in the entryway. Elara had arrived two days ago as a guest. She complained the stone floor was too cold for her feet. Kyle sent his men to hunt a snow fox just for her. My old gray wolf fur boots—three years worn—had been kicked into a corner. I didn’t change my shoes.I walked straight in,heels clicking against the stone. Let them hear me. Two ferry tickets to the Isle of Eternity lay on the stone table in the living room. Our planned retreat—meant to strengthen our mate bond. I picked them up. Kyle had used enchanted ink to overwrite the names—replacing mine with Elara’s. He’d told me about it yesterday. Elara had just escaped a nightmare of a past.Her wolf was unstable.She needed an island to recover. “Selene,we can go on our honeymoon anytime. Elara’s wolf is unstable.I need to be with her.”

How did I answer him? My eyes were probably red. I asked him what I meant to him. He sighed and pulled me into his arms. “You are my future Luna. She is just a sick little sister who needs care.” “How can you be jealous of a patient?” I took a deep breath. I tore the tickets to pieces and threw them into the fireplace. I walked into the bedroom. I pulled out my largest suitcase. No hysteria.No tears.I was perfectly calm. I packed the things that belonged to me,one by one. A set of men’s light combat armor hung at the back of the closet. It was the year Kyle became Alpha. I leveraged my status as a Moon Priestess. I begged the elders for three months to get this protective light armor for him. His eyes had turned red with emotion back then. He promised he’d wear it forever.But now,the armor reeked of Elara’s sickly sweet pheromones. I took the armor down. He had also given me wolf fang pendants as symbols of his cheap love. I tossed the armor and pendants into a trash bag. My communication crystal pulsed with light,interrupting my packing. It was a mind-link message from Kyle. “Elara drank a healing potion and fell asleep. I’m staying at the Sacred Stone Altar with her tonight.I’m not coming back.” “Change the bedding in the master bedroom. I’ll bring her back tomorrow.She likes it clean.” I stared at those two lines for a long time. I didn’t reply.I closed the message and contacted a broker about a territory trade. “Mr.Grey,I inherited a woodland with a Moon Spring from my mother. It belongs to me.I need to sell it fast.I’m willing to drop the price by 30 percent. If the buyers are from neighboring packs,it should be a hot sale.” I hit send and placed the crystal face down on the table. The sky was gradually turning bright. I zipped up my suitcase,the zipper clicking crisply.

It was broad daylight when Kyle pushed the door open. Elara followed closely behind him,looking pale. She was still wearing her ceremonial dress from last night,draped in Kyle’s Alpha cloak. Seeing me on the sofa,Elara flinched and shrank back,hiding behind Kyle. “Selene…I’m so sorry.I was too selfish last night,keeping your Alpha all to myself.” Her voice was fragile,her eyes red and puffy. Kyle patted her shoulder comfortingly. When he turned to look at me,his brows furrowed. “You’re up early.Did you change the sheets?” I stared at his entitled,matter-of-fact expression and pointed toward the master bedroom. “I did.” His expression softened.He placed a leather pouch on the stone table. “I brought you a deer heart from the Blood Moon Forest.It’s still warm.” His tone held a hint of condescending placation. “Don’t be mad.Elara was emotionally unstable last night. I only stayed because I was worried something might happen to her wolf.” I didn’t even glance at the pouch. Kyle had forgotten—or never cared to remember—that my Moon Priestess blood violently rejected raw meat. It caused excruciating stomach cramps. Three years ago,I took one bite of the raw meat he brought back. I ended up writhing on the floor in agony,my spiritual energy nearly spiraling out of control. He’d been in a cold sweat back then,swearing he would never forget again.But now,he couldn’t even be bothered to make his apologies believable. “Kyle…”Elara bit her lower lip. “Is Selene still mad at me?Maybe I should just leave. I don’t want to ruin your relationship.” “Don’t be ridiculous,”Kyle said,grabbing her wrist. “This is your home too.You’re staying.” He turned to me,his tone sharpening. “Selene,Elara’s heart was shattered by that bastard. She’s going to stay here for a while.” “You’re the Luna.You need to look after her.” “And about yesterday—you throwing the laurel wreath at the altar really humiliated Elara.Apologize,and we can move on.”

I looked at him quietly.Seven years of love meant nothing compared to a single grievance from his”fated mate.” He actually believed I should apologize to the woman who ruined my bonding ceremony. “Alright.” I stood up and walked over to Elara. Elara jumped,instinctively stepping back. “S-Selene,you don’t have to do this.I don’t need an apology…” “I’m sorry.” I looked directly into her eyes,my tone completely void of emotion. Elara froze. Kyle did,too. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be so compliant. A flash of surprise crossed his expression,quickly replaced by a satisfied smile. “I knew it.You’ve always been so understanding,Selene.” He reached out to pull me into a half-hug,but I sidestepped.”I need to go to the Alliance Trade Council.I’m leaving.” I picked up the suitcase I had left by the entryway. Kyle stared at the silver suitcase,his brow furrowing again. “Why do you need luggage for the Council?” “There’s a cross-territory trade project.I need to travel,”I lied casually. “For how many days?Why haven’t you mentioned this to me?” Displeasure crept into his voice. “Probably…a long time.” I pushed the front door open. “Alright,well,be safe out there.” Kyle didn’t press the matter.He had already turned away to pour Elara a glass of water. “Here,Elara.The water is warm.Drink some.” His gentle voice drifted through the crack in the door. Without looking back,I closed it quietly behind me. I took one last look at the home I’d lived in for five years. Dragging my suitcase behind me,I walked right out of the pack’s territory.

The early winter wind bit into my face with icy fingers. I flagged down a carriage heading toward the human city. “To Central Hospital.” Last month’s test results had come back. The doctor wanted a follow-up today. It wasn’t serious—just severe nervous gastritis caused by burnout and chronic anxiety. Sitting in the backseat,I watched the scenery blur past the window. My communication crystal vibrated.A message from Kyle. “Why didn’t you make me breakfast before leaving for your trip? Elara has a weak stomach;she can’t eat the food from the main kitchen.” “Use your spiritual link to tell the chef to make her a mild meat porridge and bring it over.” Staring at the screen,I found it suddenly ridiculous. He knew Elara had a weak stomach, yet he had no idea I hadn’t slept a wink last night,writhing in pain. I didn’t reply. I simply severed my spiritual link with him. Closing my eyes,I leaned back against the seat,feeling the waves of cramps pulsing through my stomach.

The heavy scent of disinfectant hung in the hospital corridor. The doctor studied my follow-up report. “Miss Selene,your stomach ulcer is very severe. If you don’t eat regularly and manage your stress,you risk a perforation.” “I’ll prescribe you some medication. You need to rest and take care of yourself during this time.” I took the prescription slip and thanked him. Walking out of the hospital with my medicine, I passed a high-end custom dress boutique. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows,I spotted two familiar figures. Kyle was sitting on a sofa,flipping through a weapons magazine. Elara stood before the mirror in a mermaid-style gown adorned with moonstone fragments,slowly twirling,her face glowing with quiet delight. That was my dress. The ceremonial gown I had custom-ordered from the Elven Realm six months ago. It had only just arrived last week. The sizing was a bit loose. Kyle had offered to bring it in for alterations so I could wear it for the official ceremony. As it turned out,it was being adjusted to fit Elara. “Kyle,does it look good?” Elara lifted the hem of the dress,smiling shyly. Kyle looked up,his eyes full of undisguised amazement. “It’s beautiful.It suits you perfectly.” “But…this is Selene’s dress.Won’t she be upset if I wear it?” Elara bit her lip,looking conflicted.

Kyle set down the magazine and walked over to help her adjust the veil. “It’s just a dress.She’s away on a business trip.She won’t find out.” “Besides,the ceremony didn’t even happen yesterday. There’s no use keeping this dress anyway.” “If you like it,wear it. I’ll have the staff alter the measurements to yours right now.” I stood outside the glass window,watching this scene quietly. The cramping in my stomach grew more intense,but I didn’t even furrow my brow. I pushed the boutique door open,the wind chimes above ringing out a crisp melody. A staff member came forward to greet me,and Kyle turned his head at the sound. The moment he saw me,the smile froze on his face. Elara turned pale with fright,instinctively clutching the fabric at her chest. “S-Selene…what are you doing here?” Kyle quickly regained his composure and closed the distance between us in a few strides. “Weren’t you leaving for your trip?What are you doing near the hospital?” He glanced at the pharmacy bag in my hand,frowning slightly. “Are you sick?” “No,just picking up some medicine for a colleague.” I hid the bag behind my back. “Oh.” He didn’t question it.He glanced back at Elara,his tone turning somewhat unnatural. “Elara said she wanted to see what wearing a gown felt like,so I brought her to take a look.” “You’re not going to wear this dress anyway,so what’s the big deal if she borrows it?” His tone was defensive,as if he feared I might suddenly snatch the dress away. I looked at the dress stretching out of shape on her and nodded calmly. “Sure.She can keep it.”

Kyle froze,surprised I was being so agreeable. “You…really don’t mind?” “Someone else has been wearing it.I don’t want it anymore.” I walked to the front desk and tapped the counter. “Charge the remaining balance to this gentleman’s card.” The clerk reached for Kyle’s black card without a word. Kyle’s expression darkened. “Selene,do you have to be so hostile?” “Elara only tried it on.How is it dirty?” I ignored him,waiting for the clerk to hand me the receipt. “Kyle.I put down 150,000 gold on that dress.I want it back.” Kyle stared at me in disbelief. “Are you really going to nickel-and-dime me right now?” “We’re about to be bonded. What’s mine is yours—and you’re coming after 150,000 gold?” I looked at his face,slightly twisted with anger,and laughed. “Right.We’re about to be bonded.” “But you already completed the bonding ceremony with someone else last night,didn’t you?” Kyle’s breath caught,his gaze sliding away from mine. “I told you,it was a necessary compromise!How long are you going to keep throwing this in my face?” “I’m not.”I pulled out my crystal and brought up the transfer screen. “150,000 gold.Transfer it.”

Scowling,Kyle transferred the money. “Money.That’s all you care about anymore.” He scoffed,turning to pull a teary-eyed Elara close. I pocketed the crystal and walked out of the boutique—never once looking back. The winter sun held no warmth. I took a cab to the Territory Trading Center. Mr.Gray,the broker,was already waiting. “Miss Selene,I’ve secured the buyer.The Solar Pack. They’re paying in full,but the offer is way below market. Are you sure about this?That Moon Spring is everything to the pups of Blackwood Pack…” “Sell it.” I pressed my mark into the contract. This land had been saved with everything my mother left me—and his collateral—after his failed expansion.Both our names were on the deed. Now,I was selling my half for pennies to the rival Solar Pack. Paperwork finished,Mr.Gray looked at me,hesitating. “Miss Selene,does your Alpha know about this?Because once he finds out—” “Soon enough,”I said,with just the ghost of a smile.

In the afternoon,I went to the Alliance Chamber of Commerce and resigned. The President begged me to stay.I told him I needed a fresh start—nothing more. I packed up my things,picked up my box,and walked out. My crystal buzzed—a message from Kyle. “We’re gathering at the Howling Abyss tonight. The guys are throwing Elara a rebirth party—a fresh start,new chapter,all that.” “Come straight after work.And don’t make it weird—we’re all friends here.” “Oh,and Elara loves their Frostberry juice.Pick up two cups on your way.” I read it.Typed back one word:’Okay.’ At eight o’clock,I pushed open the door to the top VIP room at the Howling Abyss. The room was thick with smoke,the music rattling the walls. Kyle was sprawled in the center seat,Elara tucked into his side. Seeing me walk in,the room went quiet for a second. A few of Kyle’s usual Alpha crew exchanged smirks. “Well,well,our Luna is here.” “Look at that—she’s here tonight at her rival’s party.” Kyle frowned and snapped at them.”Cut it out.Selene’s not like that.” He waved me over. “Come sit.”

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At the NHL end-of-season gala, the highlight of the night was an improv game. Players and their dates drew random prompts to act out. I was the secret girlfriend of the team’s star,Ethan Campbell. And also a student living in the practice rooms at Juilliard. Fittingly,I drew the prompt to play Ethan’s devoted girlfriend. Fueled by liquid courage, I poured out three years of bottled-up emotions into a heartfelt confession. He kept a poker face,and the room lost it. His teammates chirped: “Hey,Ethan,your acting is even worse than your save percentage!” The laughter felt like an actual slap. My cheeks burned with humiliation. In the next round,Ethan drew Hailey—the sports influencer tied to his name on every gossip blog. One look between them was all it took to spark undeniable chemistry. They improvised a steamy tango. It ended with a deep kiss straight off a Sports Illustrated cover. The room erupted. Cheers practically blew the roof off the hotel. Of course,they won the grand prize—an exclusive seven-day ski getaway for two in Aspen. Ethan texted me: [Babe,it’s PR for the team.Playing to the crowd,you know? I had to take it.Otherwise she totally outshines me? We both need to cool off.] I locked my screen and dialed another number. On the other end of the line was a highly respected conductor in Europe. “Hi,Maestro. That Young Composer Fellowship you offered me… I’m in.” … “Maestro Julian,about the commission for the original symphony movement… I’ve made up my mind.” I stood on the balcony outside the banquet hall,keeping my voice low. The night breeze swept past,clearing my head. Maestro Julian sounded surprised. “Ava?Didn’t you say you were keeping your schedule clear to support your boyfriend during the playoffs?” I looked at the luxurious lights and rowdy silhouettes spilling through the crack in the banquet hall doors. Letting out a bitter smile,I answered. “That won’t be necessary,Maestro.” “I finally figured out my priorities. Next Monday at 10 AM,I’ll be at your studio for the first rehearsal.” Maestro Julian’s voice filled with admiration and excitement. “Wonderful.I knew you had your head on straight. The emotional depth and inner strength that piece requires… I can’t think of another young talent who can do it justice.” “See you next week,then. I’ll have my assistant email you the final score.” I hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Deafening cheers bled through the heavy doors,crashing into my ears. “Kiss her!Kiss her!”

The chant was familiar,yet grating. I pushed open the doors. A wave of heat hit me,thick with the scent of perfume and alcohol. Ethan was standing right in the middle,surrounded by a swarm of teammates and the press. A glass of champagne in hand,his custom suit unbuttoned at the collar, he looked down at Hailey with a smoldering gaze. Hailey’s face was flushed. Playing the part of a startled doe,she nestled coyly against his chest. “Oh,you guys,stop.Ethan has a girlfriend,remember?” Her voice was sickeningly sweet,dripping with phony fragility. Someone in the crowd quickly chimed in. “Who cares about a girlfriend? An athlete’s love life changes faster than the weather.” “For real.Watching Ava and Ethan earlier was so cringe it physically hurt.” “Hailey and Ethan are the ones with real sparks. That kiss?Goal of the Year!” I stood by the doors,watching this pathetic little circus play out. At the mention of my name,Ethan’s jaw tightened. But he didn’t push Hailey away. Instead,he slipped his arm around her shoulder. “Knock it off,guys.Ava and I are just friends.” His tone was flat—like he was announcing a minor roster change. “It was just a game.Don’t read into it.”

I looked at the face I was madly in love with, and suddenly,he felt like a stranger. Three years. We had been together for three whole years. To protect his image as hockey’s’most eligible bachelor,’ I willingly stayed in the shadows. I threw away countless recitals and competitions, only to be the one waiting outside the locker room after his games. And now,in front of everyone, he erased three years with two words:”just friends.” Hailey peeked out from his chest,her eyes locking onto me by the doors. Grabbing two drinks,she strutted over like a runway model,her hips swaying with every step. “Ava,why are you standing by the door?Come join the fun.” She held out one of the glasses to me,flashing an innocent smile. “Don’t take that little game earlier too personally.” “I’ve always been a guy’s girl.Ethan and I are basically bros.” “You’re not going to be mad at him over a silly game,right?” The second the words left her mouth,the rowdy banquet hall fell silent. Everyone’s eyes darted back and forth between us, waiting to watch his”secret girlfriend”become the punchline of the night. I didn’t take the drink. I took in her carefully crafted’natural’look,keeping my voice deadpan. “If it’s just a game,why would I be mad?”

Hailey’s hand froze in mid-air,her innocent smile faltering. Ethan strode over,snatched the glass from her hand,and slammed it onto the table. “Ava Thorne,what’s with the sour face?” His voice wasn’t loud,but it carried the heavy,dull thud of a puck smashing against the boards. “Hailey was nice enough to offer you a drink.What’s your problem?” I looked up at him. “I’m allergic to alcohol.Since when is that news to you?” Ethan stiffened. A flash of panic crossed his eyes,but it was quickly masked by impatience. “So just take a small sip.Is one drop going to kill you?” “You always act so high and mighty,even here. No wonder you’re still a nobody at Juilliard.” He humiliated me in front of the whole room. A few muffled snickers rippled through the crowd. The team’s PR manager,Max,stepped up and tugged at my sleeve. “Ava,don’t be difficult. Ethan is the face of the franchise now. He’s the future of the league. Don’t make a scene and ruin this for him.” Max was also Ethan’s agent. In this industry,the superstar makes the rules. I looked at Max’s kiss-ass expression,then at Ethan’s self-righteous glare. The whole thing felt pointless. “Max is right.I shouldn’t make a scene.” I took a step back,putting some distance between us. “It’s getting late.I have an early class tomorrow,so I’m heading out.” Ethan’s face darkened. “Ava Thorne,if you walk out that door tonight,don’t ever come crawling back to me.” He was used to threatening me with that condescending tone. Because he knew how much I cared about him. Every time we fought,I was always the one who caved. But this time,he was dead wrong. I looked at him,a faint smile touching my lips. “Ethan,I hope you two have fun in Aspen.”

“What the hell was your problem last night? You couldn’t even take a drink from Hailey?” Early the next morning,Ethan’s voice came through the phone,rough with a hangover. I shoved a few everyday outfits into a suitcase,without missing a beat. “I told you.I’m allergic to alcohol.” Ethan scoffed. “Stop using your allergy as an excuse. You’re just jealous Hailey gets to go to Aspen with me.” “Ava,since when did you become so petty?” I zipped the suitcase shut and stood it up in the corner. “Ethan,if you called only to lecture me,you can hang up now.” The line went silent for a second. Ethan hadn’t expected that tone from me. “Are you out of your mind? Don’t you dare talk to me like that.” His voice spiked,sharp with anger. “Listen to me.I am going to Aspen. It’s a brand trip,and I need it for my image.” “Stay home and behave. And no passive-aggressive crap online.” I looked out the window at the dreary New York sky. “Don’t worry.I don’t have time for that.” I hung up the phone,grabbed my suitcase, and walked out of the apartment we had shared for the last three years.

A week later,I arrived on time at Maestro Julian’s studio—the mecca of classical music in Europe. The Maestro pushed a thick score across the table,his eyes filled with admiration. “Ava,I spent three years conceptualizing this symphony. The protagonist is a woman who rises like a phoenix from the ashes of despair.” “I’ve looked at your past student pieces. Your technique may still be raw,but your melodies have soul.” I carefully took the score. “Thank you for believing in me,Maestro. I won’t let you down.” The rehearsal was flawless,and Maestro Julian was thrilled with my performance. After I signed the NDA,I got a call from Max. “Ava,get back to the New York office right now. We’re having a quick meeting.” Max’s tone left no room for argument. By the time I rushed back to the agency’s office, Ethan and Hailey were already sitting in the conference room. Hailey was busy showing off her new manicure. Ethan was looking down at his phone,a smirk playing on his lips. Seeing me walk in,Max tapped on the table. “Now that everyone’s here,I have two things to announce.” “First,the agency just landed Hailey a global endorsement deal with a premium sports brand. This is her first major contract,and I need everyone to get behind the rollout.” Hailey looked up and flashed me a sweet smile. “Thanks,Max.And thank you,Ethan,for pulling strings for me.” Ethan didn’t even look up,his tone casual. “It’s nothing.You deserve the best.” I found a corner seat and sat down,my face blank. Max shot me a look and kept going. “Second thing. Ava,that composing gig you booked for the local team’s promo video? Hand it over to Hailey’s musician friend.” My head snapped up,my eyes locking onto Max. I had hustled for two weeks just to land that composing gig. The pay wasn’t much,but it was a great opportunity to build my resume. “Why?” I stared at Max,my voice ice-cold.

Max frowned,annoyed that I had even asked. “Hailey thinks her friend’s style is a better fit. The sound is more…commercial.More pop.” “Plus,the target audience for this promo is young. They need an explosive beat.Your classical stuff is too dull.” I turned to Ethan. “Is this your call,too?” Ethan finally put his phone down,shooting me an impatient glare. “Ava,your music is bland.It has zero hook.” “They want a track people can jump to. Not some lullaby that puts people to sleep in a concert hall.” “It’s just a stupid promo video. Do you really need to be this petty over it?” Hailey bit her lip,playing the victim. “Ava,if you really can’t bear to let it go,we can forget about it.” “I thought it was a huge opportunity for my friend. I only wanted to help him out.” “Ethan,please don’t fight with Ava over me.” Ethan softened his voice,patting Hailey’s hand to comfort her. “Just ignore her.She always has this nasty attitude. She can’t stand to see other people win.” He turned back to me with a warning look. “The decision is final. You don’t have anything important going on anyway,so focus on your classes.” I watched them put on their little tag-team routine,finding the whole thing laughable. For three years,it was always like this. Claiming it was”for my own good,” he constantly belittled my craft and my dreams,keeping me trapped in his shadow. All while taking my sacrifices for granted. I stood up and smoothed out my clothes. “Fine.You can have the gig.” Ethan’s face relaxed into a smug,”know your place”look. “Glad you’re finally being reasonable.” I looked at him,my voice steady. “Ethan,I hope you don’t regret this.” With that,I ignored his stunned expression and walked out of the conference room.

“Did you catch Hailey’s new IG post? The snow in Aspen is stunning. Ethan totally spoils her.” In the break room,two interns were huddled together,whispering. As I walked over with my coffee mug,they clammed up,scattering in awkward silence. Back at my desk,I unlocked my phone. Hailey had just dropped a massive photo dump on IG. It featured a luxury ski chalet, a candlelit dinner by the fireplace, and two hands intertwined—wearing matching ski gloves. The caption read: [Sun,snow,and a man who truly gets me.] Ethan had liked the post and dropped a heart emoji in the comments. She hid the post from my main account. I knew because the team manager and several execs had already liked it. They thought I was blocked. But my academic alt account still followed her. Face blank,I swiped past her post and went back to reading the score revisions from Maestro Julian. My phone buzzed.It was a text from Ethan. [Left in a rush.Buster needs feeding.Handle it.] No greeting.It was a command. I stared at the text,my finger hovering over the screen. Finally,I typed:[Okay]. We adopted Buster,a golden retriever from a local shelter,right after we started dating. I always saw that dog as the living proof of us.

That afternoon,I took a cab to Ethan’s apartment. I punched in the passcode and pushed the door open. The place was a wreck. Hailey’s scarf was tossed on the couch,and half-empty wine glasses sat on the coffee table. The air reeked of a strange,sickly-sweet perfume. I walked out to the balcony and refilled Buster’s food and water bowls. The dog nuzzled against my leg,letting out happy little whimpers. I crouched down and patted his head. Out of the corner of my eye,I spotted a gleaming metal object lying next to the dog bowl. I reached out and picked it up,wiping off the dog food crumbs. It was a white gold pendant,specially designed to blend the letter”A”for Ava with an eighth note. Our initials were engraved on the back. I had custom-ordered this matching set for our one-year anniversary, using the scholarship money I had worked so hard to earn. I never took mine off. But he claimed his got in the way on the ice,so he shoved it in a drawer. And now,here it was. Tossed aside like a piece of trash by the dog bowl,reduced to a chew toy. The sharp edge of the metal bit into my palm. I dialed Ethan’s number. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. In the background,I could hear the roar of snowmobiles and Hailey squealing. “What do you want?I’m busy.” His voice dripped with annoyance. “Why is your pendant in the dog bowl?” I tried my best to keep my voice steady. The line went quiet for a second. Then Ethan replied,his voice completely indifferent. “Oh,you mean that thing.” “Hailey came over yesterday and thought that little trinket looked cute. Buster likes chasing shiny things,so she tossed it to him to play with.” “It’s just some cheap pendant. Do you really need to make such a big deal out of it? I’ll buy you a Cartier one when I get back to New York.” His tone was unapologetic—like I was the one being unreasonable. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Ethan,that was our anniversary pendant.”

“What’s the big deal about a matching pendant?” Ethan’s patience had officially hit zero. “Ava Thorne,can you stop being so damn petty for once?” “Hailey just doesn’t overthink things. She doesn’t play mind games. You’re the one taking everything so personally.” “If you’re going to keep being this unreasonable,we’re done talking.” With that,he hung up. Listening to the dead line,I let out a laugh. At my own stupidity. At three years of wasted devotion. I threw the pendant into the trash. In the bedroom,I pulled out a large duffel bag. My toothbrush,a towel,a few changes of clothes—the last of my things went straight inside. I moved fast.No hesitation. After all is done,I took one last look at the apartment. This place used to hold every fantasy I had for our future. Now,there was nothing left but a pathetic mess. I closed the door and chucked my keys into the fire hose cabinet out in the hallway. My phone buzzed again. Another text from Ethan. [My birthday is the day after tomorrow. I’m throwing a party at the Four Seasons penthouse. Be there on time.] [Drop the attitude. Dress to impress,and don’t embarrass me.] I stared at the words on the screen and typed. [Okay.] There was no need for a Cartier. Because trash belongs in the garbage.

“My birthday party is tonight at the Four Seasons. You need to be there,and drop the attitude.” That was the first voice message Ethan sent me after he got back to New York. Arrogant as ever,treating the invite like charity. Wearing a plain black cashmere coat, I pushed open the heavy doors to the Four Seasons penthouse at eight. The room was ablaze with crystal chandeliers and buzzing with loud chatter. Ethan sat at the center in a custom suit,basking in the glory,surrounded by A-listers and the press. Hailey sat beside him,flashing a flawless smile. The second I walked in,the air in the penthouse froze. All eyes landed on me. Or more accurately—on Hailey. She was wearing an Elie Saab haute couture gown. The dress was encrusted with diamonds,shimmering under the lights. I recognized that dress. Two years ago,Ethan had pointed to the cover of a fashion magazine and sworn that once he won his first MVP,he would buy that gown as my engagement gift. He told me that a starry sky like that was the only thing worthy of the music I played. And now,that starry sky was draped over another woman. “Ava,you made it!” Hailey stood up,lifted her skirt,and strutted over to me,doing a graceful little twirl. “Do you like the gown?Ethan had it flown in from Paris.” “He said my vibe is perfect for this kind of glamorous look.” Her smile was innocent,but her eyes gleamed with undeniable smugness. I looked at her,my expression unchanged. “It really suits you.”

Ethan leaned back in his chair,his brow furrowing at my unfazed expression. “Ava Thorne,didn’t I tell you to dress to impress? Who are you wearing that funeral getup for?” His voice cut through the quiet room. Whispers broke out. “Seriously.It’s Ethan’s birthday,and she shows up looking like that? What a total buzzkill.” “She’s definitely doing this on purpose just to ruin the vibe.” “Being the official girlfriend looks miserable. She doesn’t even own a decent dress.” I ignored the sneers,walked straight to the bar,and poured myself a glass of club soda. “This is all I have.If I’m such an embarrassment,you shouldn’t have invited me.” Ethan shot up from his seat,his face livid. “What’s your problem? I was nice enough to invite you to celebrate, and you have to ruin it for everyone,don’t you?” Hailey quickly grabbed Ethan’s arm,giving it a gentle tug. “Ethan,please don’t be mad. Ava’s probably just in a bad mood because she’s struggling with her classes.” “Let me offer Ava a toast to smooth things over.” With that,she picked up a glass of red wine and walked over to me. As she was about to drink,she suddenly stumbled. The entire glass of red wine splashed onto her starry-blue couture gown. The dark red liquid bled into the expensive fabric,leaving a shocking stain. “Ah!” Hailey shrieked,tears springing to her eyes. “My dress!”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260717InmMTKPqxp 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni358215”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

I had been with Christopher for seven years. Seven years of a long-distance relationship. He came from a dirt-poor background but had a sky-high ego. I walked on eggshells to protect his precious self-esteem. Not only did I pay cash to buy him a ten-million-dollar luxury penthouse in Manhattan, but I also used my family’s massive connections to slide him into a high-paying executive role at a top investment bank. He always told me, “Once I save up enough money, Chloe, I’m going to give you the wedding of your dreams.” To surprise him, I secretly flew to New York to custom-order my wedding dress. But in the bridal boutique, I ended up helping a pregnant woman who was being looked down upon by the staff. Clutching my hand, she gushed with blushing pride about her multi-millionaire, incredibly sweet, investment-bank-VP fiancé. Until she pulled out his photo. I stared at the man on her phone screen—the man I had loved with all my heart for seven years. It felt like my entire world had frozen over.

Early autumn in New York brought a chilly breeze. I pushed open the glass doors of HAPPY Bridal Boutique. The store manager immediately rushed over, her face practically glowing with a welcoming smile. “Miss Nathaniel! You’re here! The designer made some minor adjustments to the sketches you liked based on your measurements. Please, follow me to the VIP lounge.” I nodded and followed her inside. Actually, Christopher had no idea I was in New York today. We had been together for seven years. From college to our careers, it was seven years of flying back and forth between coasts. While he was grinding in New York, I was back in Los Angeles helping my family run our venture capital firm. Over these seven years, I watched him go from a broke student who hesitated to buy a Starbucks latte to a VP at a prestigious investment bank. Of course, none of that would have happened without me pulling strings behind the scenes, securing deals for him, and cleaning up his messes. But I never told him. His pride was too fragile, almost painfully sensitive. Last month, he finally got promoted. He choked up over FaceTime, saying, “Chloe, I finally made it. I finally feel like I’m worthy of standing by your side.” “When I get my year-end bonus, let’s get married, okay?” At that moment, I cried like a total fool. So, I secretly booked a flight to New York today, wanting to get my dress secured first. I wanted to give him the ultimate surprise. While I was sitting on the leather sofa flipping through the catalog, a loud argument broke out in the main lobby. “Is this how you run a business? I told you, my wedding is early next month! I need to secure this dress today!” “Can’t I just pay extra?” A young, high-pitched, and slightly spoiled female voice echoed through the lounge. The store manager looked embarrassed and gave me an apologetic smile. “Miss Nathaniel, please excuse me for a moment. I’ll go handle this.” I had nothing else to do, so I followed her out. In the lobby, a young woman wearing a Chanel dress from the latest fall collection was sitting on the sofa, puffing with anger. She was gorgeous, with a sweet face and baby-soft features. What caught my eye was her slightly round belly. She looked about four or five months pregnant. The manager was desperately trying to explain, “Miss Aurora, it’s really not about the money.” “The gown you want is a hand-made haute couture piece by our chief designer. From measuring to the final embroidery, it takes at least three months.” “Next month is simply impossible.” “I don’t care!” Aurora touched her belly, her eyes welling with tears. “My baby can’t wait!” “My husband said I must wear the most beautiful gown and have the grandest wedding.” “Are you guys looking down on me?” Aurora got so worked up that her face suddenly went pale. She swayed, nearly tumbling off the sofa. “Miss Aurora!” The manager panicked. Quick on my feet, I lunged forward and caught her. I reached into my bag, pulled out an imported fruit candy I always kept on me, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. “Low blood sugar?” I asked gently, helping her lean back onto the sofa. Aurora sucked on the candy. After a long minute, the color slowly returned to her face. She looked at me with teary eyes, like a startled little deer. “Thank you so much. Everything went black for a second. I thought something was going to happen to my baby.” “You shouldn’t get this stressed while pregnant.” I handed her a tissue and turned to the manager. “Betty, didn’t the Milan headquarters just send over a ready-to-wear runway piece last month?” “The measurements should be close to this lady’s. With some minor alterations, we can have it ready in two weeks, right?” The manager blinked, then nodded respectfully. “Yes, Miss Nathaniel. But that was reserved as your backup option…” “It’s fine. I’m not in a rush. Let her have it,” I said with a faint smile. Hearing this, Aurora’s eyes lit up instantly. She grabbed my hand. “Really? You’re letting me have your dress?” “Oh my god, you are literally my savior!” Her name was Aurora, a fairly popular beauty influencer on Instagram. Because I had done her a huge favor, she insisted on taking me to the Rosewood Hotel next door for high tea to thank me. Seeing that she was heavily pregnant and alone, I agreed. Stirring her black tea, the happiness radiating from Aurora’s face was almost suffocating. “You have no idea. I originally wanted to have the wedding after the baby was born.” “But my husband refused. He said he couldn’t let me feel neglected. He insisted that our baby must witness our love from inside my belly.” She rested her chin on her hands, smiling as if she were drowning in honey. I smiled along. “Your husband must love you very much.” “Of course he does!” Aurora raised her chin proudly. “Even though he came from some poor rural town and couldn’t even afford tuition back then.” “He’s incredibly ambitious. He’s already an investment bank VP! And he is absolutely gorgeous!” The hand holding my teacup froze. Born in a poor town. Investment bank VP. Putting those details together made something click in my mind. But I brushed it off. New York was huge, after all. There were plenty of investment banks and young, successful men. Aurora continued to brag endlessly. “And he is so generous to me. He gave me his credit card and lets me spend tens of thousands every month.” “Not long ago, he bought a three-hundred-square-meter luxury penthouse in Manhattan with cash. Even though only his name is on the deed right now, he said he’d add mine once we get married.” Hearing the words “Manhattan penthouse” and “cash,” my heart skipped a beat. A luxury penthouse in Manhattan cost tens of millions. How could a newly promoted VP afford that in cash, no matter how much he made? Unless… A wild, utterly absurd thought began to take root in my mind like a thorny vine, wrapping tightly around my chest. “What… what is your husband’s last name?” I forced my voice to sound calm, but only I knew that my fingertips were trembling. Unaware, Aurora smiled and pulled a gold-embossed wedding invitation from her bag, sliding it over to me. “Christopher Vance. You have to come visit me when you’re in New York!” Christopher Vance. The name felt like a dagger piercing straight through my eyes. I stared at the name I knew all too well. My mind went completely blank. A deafening buzz filled my ears, making me dizzy.

“Are you okay? You look so pale.” Seeing my silence, Aurora leaned in with concern. I snapped back to reality, took a deep breath, and forced down the rising nausea in my throat. “I’m… I’m fine.” I squeezed out a smile that probably looked worse than crying. “I just… the name sounds familiar.” “Really?” Aurora’s eyes lit up with pride. “He’s quite famous in the finance circle! To become a VP at his age, so many people are jealous.” “You’re in business too, so it makes sense you’ve heard of him.” Looking at her innocent, boasting face, the blood in my veins turned to ice. How could I not have heard of him? Christopher. The man I had loved and financially supported for seven long years. The shy boy on the college campus who once blushed while handing me a bottle of water, unable to even look me in the eye. The man who once cried through my phone screen when I was sick, swearing he would make it big just to treat me like a princess. And now, he was someone else’s Christopher. He was even having a child with her? I gripped my porcelain teacup so hard my knuckles turned white. My nails dug into my palms. “How long… have you two been together?” My voice sounded raspy, like sandpaper. “Almost a year,” Aurora recalled, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “We met at a gala.” “He was wearing a custom designer suit, looking so cold and distant. Other women tried to hit on him, but he completely ignored them.” “Then I accidentally spilled my wine on him. Instead of getting mad, he took off his jacket and put it over my shoulders so I wouldn’t feel embarrassed in my stained dress.” “Don’t you think that’s just fate?” A year. I closed my eyes, my chest aching so bad I couldn’t breathe. A year ago was exactly when Christopher’s career hit a massive bottleneck. He was depressed and miserable. Back then, worried about his stress levels, I flew to New York every single weekend to be with him. I cooked for him, massaged his shoulders, and stayed up all night listening to him vent about work. I even went behind his back to beg my father to hand over a multi-million-dollar, guaranteed-profit project to Christopher’s team. That was the only reason he overcame his crisis and got promoted. But what did he do? During the days and nights I wasn’t in New York, he wore the designer suits I bought him, playing the role of a cold, brooding billionaire at galas to charm other women. “Look, we just took our wedding photos last week.” Aurora eagerly pushed her phone screen in front of my face. In the photo, Christopher wore a crisp white tuxedo, wrapping his arms tenderly around Aurora from behind. His hand rested gently on her baby bump. He was leaning down, kissing her cheek. The look in his eyes was filled with a tenderness and devotion I had never seen before. In our seven years together, Christopher rarely took photos. He always claimed he wasn’t photogenic, saying it was too cheesy for men to take photos all the time. We didn’t even have a decent couple’s photo. The only one we had was one I forced him to take at our college graduation. In that photo, his brow was furrowed, looking entirely annoyed. It turned out he didn’t hate photos. He just hated taking them with me. “Handsome, right?” Aurora giggled as she took her phone back. “Honestly, at first, I felt pretty insecure.” “He’s so successful, and there are always trashy girls throwing themselves at him.” “Especially his crazy ex-girlfriend. She’s an absolute nightmare!” Hearing “ex-girlfriend,” my nerves spiked. “An ex-girlfriend?” I asked, pretending to be casual. “Yeah!” Aurora rolled her eyes in disgust. “Christopher said she was a gold-digging parasite. Her family was dirt poor, and she relied entirely on him for money.” “Later, Christopher found out she was sleeping around behind his back, so he dumped her.” “But she wouldn’t let go. She kept texting him for money every other day.” “Christopher is too soft-hearted. He felt bad for her, so he’d occasionally throw her a few bucks to get her to go away.” I wanted to laugh out loud at the sheer absurdity. A dirt-poor gold digger? Sleeping around? Soft-hearted charity? Christopher, you really are something else. You spent the hundreds of thousands of dollars of allowance I gave you every month, lived in the penthouse I paid for in full, and drove the Porsche I bought you. Yet, in front of your new girl, you turned me into a pathetic, desperate, gold-digging ex? For seven years, I was a fool, played like a toy in his hands. To protect his ego, I never let him spend a single dime on me. I secretly settled the bill whenever we ate out. I always bought him the most expensive gifts for holidays. Meanwhile, he only got me cheap, twenty-dollar trinkets, which I cherished like priceless treasures. I thought that was love. I thought it was mutual respect. In reality, it was just a one-woman show. And he sat in the audience, watching me perform like a clown, probably laughing his head off. “Women like that deserve to be put in their place!” Aurora balled her hand into a fist, then smiled again. “But it’s fine now. Christopher blocked her on everything.” “He told me he only cares about me and our baby now.” My ears buzzed. Nausea washed over me again. I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up abruptly. “What’s wrong?” Aurora gasped, startled. “I need to use the restroom.” I practically fled to the bathroom. Clinging to the sink, I dry-heaved for several minutes, but nothing came out. Staring at the pale, red-eyed woman in the mirror, I felt entirely detached. Chloe, you are pathetic. All the business logic and intelligence you took pride in shattered into worthless dust the moment love was involved. I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto my face. The freezing water dripped down my cheeks, completely washing away the last shred of my foolish illusions. Christopher, since you had the balls to do this, don’t blame me for what comes next. You want to step on my back, use my money, and give another woman the wedding of the century? Keep dreaming.

I dried my face, touched up my makeup, and replaced the vulnerability in my eyes with cold, calculated steel. When I walked back, Aurora was on her phone, leaving a sweet voice message. “Chris, what do you want for dinner tonight?” “I met an amazing lady today. She actually let me have her custom wedding gown!” “Can I invite her over to our place for dinner tonight?” I walked up just in time to hear this. Have dinner at their place? At the twenty-million-dollar penthouse I paid for in full, where I hadn’t even spent a single night? A cold smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. I was just wondering how to confront this trash. She was handing me the opportunity on a silver platter. “Sure,” I said smoothly as I sat down, offering a warm smile. “Actually, my hotel reservation had some issues, and I don’t have a place to stay tonight.” “I hope I won’t be intruding?” “No way!” Aurora grabbed my hand excitedly. “It’s an honor to have you!” “Christopher is always busy with work, and I get so bored alone at home.” “Isn’t your boyfriend in New York too? Why don’t you call him to join us?” I lowered my gaze to hide the mockery in my eyes. “No need. He’s… ‘working late.’” I put extra emphasis on “working late.” Over the past seven years, Christopher had used this excuse to brush me off countless times. “Ah, that’s too bad. Long-distance is so hard. You have to be understanding.” Aurora comforted me like an experienced wife, then happily pulled me along. “Let’s go. We can take my car!” In the parking garage, a brand-new, metallic pink Porsche Panamera pulled up in front of us. My pupils dilated when I saw the car. This was the gift I bought Christopher for his thirtieth birthday last year. Because he said people in investment banking looked down on you if you didn’t drive a good car, I ordered the top-tier trim, which cost me nearly three hundred thousand dollars. But now, the car was wrapped in hot pink, serving as Aurora’s ride. “Pretty, right?” Aurora tapped the car door, beaming. “It’s a pregnancy gift from Christopher!” “He said pink suits me perfectly. Get in, what are you waiting for?” I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to key the car, and climbed into the passenger seat. The interior smelled of sweet, cloying perfume. A photo of the two of them hung from the rearview mirror. The back seat was piled high with luxury shopping bags. Every single detail in this car felt like a slap to my face. As we drove out, Aurora’s phone rang. It was a FaceTime call from Christopher. Aurora mounted her phone on the dashboard and answered it. On the screen, the face I knew down to the bone appeared. Christopher was wearing the Armani custom shirt I bought him, his tie slightly loosened, his brow furrowed in his classic “busy executive” look. But the moment he saw Aurora, his expression softened instantly. His eyes filled with warmth, even a hint of subservience. “Hey babe. Did the baby behave today? Are you tired from trying on dresses?” His deep, smooth voice was once my favorite sound. Now, it just made me sick. “Not tired at all! I met an amazing person who helped me today!” Aurora chirped. “Chris, when are you getting off work?” “I invited her over for dinner. Hurry home and cook for us!” Christopher on the screen paused, then smiled dotingly. “You always make decisions on a whim.” “Fine, I’ll head back now. What do you want to eat? I’ll stop by the grocery store.” “I want steak!” “Sure, whatever you want. Wait for me at home.” Christopher blew a kiss to the camera and hung up. Sitting in the passenger seat, I was out of the camera’s angle, so Christopher didn’t see me. But I saw his loving, attentive face clearly. For seven years, he had never spoken to me in that tone. He was always cold, always saying, “I’m busy,” “Don’t start,” or “Be mature.” I thought he was just naturally distant and bad with words. It turned out he knew exactly how to love someone. He just didn’t love me. He gave all his warmth, patience, and emotional care to another woman. And left the coldness, excuses, and financial demands for me. “Isn’t my husband literally the best?” Aurora turned to me, smiling. I stared at the traffic ahead, my lips curling into a cold line. “Yeah. He’s quite the ‘husband.’”

The car pulled into one of New York’s most exclusive residential buildings—the Senna Residences. The security was incredibly tight, but Aurora scanned her face and drove right in. In the underground garage, she parked in a private spot. I glanced at the spot number: A-001. Another thing I paid for. I followed Aurora into the private elevator, riding it straight to the penthouse. The moment the door opened, even though I was prepared, the sight still pierced my chest. I had personally hired a top Italian designer to style this three-hundred-square-meter penthouse. From the Mediterranean-style archways to the million-dollar crystal chandelier in the living room, to the smart home system—every detail had my heart poured into it. Back then, Christopher said he liked a minimalist style, so I had replaced all the furniture with sleek black, white, and gray tones. But now, the spacious living room was covered in a fluffy pink rug. The sofa was piled with cute plushies, and a massive crib sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The entire home had been transformed by Aurora into a cozy pink castle. My hard work had been effortlessly wiped out by another woman. “Make yourself at home!” Aurora greeted me warmly, pulling a pair of brand-new pink slippers from the shoe cabinet. I glanced down at the cabinet. The dozens of limited-edition sneakers I had bought him were completely gone. They were replaced by Aurora’s high heels and maternity shoes. “What do you want to drink? Juice or coffee?” Aurora walked toward the open kitchen. “Water is fine, thank you.” I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the glittering New York skyline. This was where I had imagined us standing side-by-side, countless times. “Look at this!” Aurora walked over with a glass of water, pointing proudly to a massive oil painting on the wall. It was a portrait of them. Christopher in a tuxedo, Aurora in a wedding gown, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. “Christopher commissioned this. It cost hundreds of thousands!” “He said he wanted to freeze our most beautiful moment forever,” Aurora sighed dreamily. I stared coldly at the painting, my stomach churning again. Hundreds of thousands? Last month, Christopher told me he needed to butter up some clients for a project and was short on cash. I wired him a million dollars without a second thought. So, my money went into painting this disgusting trash. “Aurora,” I turned around, looking at her glowing face. “Do you really know Christopher?” Aurora blinked, confused. “What do you mean?” “Nothing.” I smiled, taking a sip of water. “I just think men nowadays are really good at pretending.” “Especially the ones who suddenly get rich. You should be careful.” Aurora burst out laughing. “You’re overthinking! Christopher is not like that.” “I have his credit cards, and I can check his phone whenever I want.” “He doesn’t even have any female friends. How could he lie to me?” “Really?” I put down my glass, my eyes mocking. “What about that crazy ex-girlfriend? What if she comes back?” At the mention of the ex, Aurora’s face darkened, her teeth clenching. “She wouldn’t dare! If she tries to ruin my family, I’ll tear her face apart!” “A cheap escort trying to steal my man? Please.” “A cheap escort?” I raised an eyebrow, holding back the urge to splash the water in her face. “Yeah! Christopher told me himself,” Aurora said with pure disgust. “He said she worked at some shady gentleman’s club. Who knows what diseases she has.” “Christopher was fooled by her at first, thinking she was some innocent college girl.” “Once he found out the truth, he was so disgusted he packed up and left overnight.” I trembled with pure rage, my nails biting so deep into my palms that they drew blood. Christopher, you have truly set a new low for human trash. To paint yourself as a saint in front of your mistress, you turned me—a partner at a top venture capital firm in LA—into a diseased escort?! I closed my eyes, taking several deep breaths to force down the fury. Fine. Great. Christopher, since you love acting so much, I’ll play along tonight. Just then, the front door beeped as the smart lock scanned a fingerprint. “Chris is back!” Aurora squealed, flying toward the door like a happy bird. The door opened, and Christopher walked in carrying two large grocery bags. As he kicked off his shoes, he caught the throwing-herself-at-him Aurora and kissed her forehead. “Miss me?” “Yes! So much!” Aurora clung to his neck. “Missed you too.” Christopher pinched her nose dotingly, then raised his head. His gaze swept past Aurora’s shoulder and landed on the living room. In that instant, time froze. The smile on Christopher’s face turned into a solid block of ice the moment he saw me. His pupils dilated. Pure terror and disbelief washed over his eyes. The grocery bags slipped from his hands, hitting the floor with a loud thud. Tomatoes rolled out, stopping right at my feet. “You… how are you…” His mouth hung open like a dying fish. He couldn’t even squeeze out a full sentence. Aurora was startled by his reaction. She looked back at me, then laughed, pulling his arm. “Chris, why do you look like that?” “It’s like you’ve seen a ghost. This is the nice lady I told you about!” “She let me have her wedding dress today, or I would’ve cried my eyes out!” Aurora dragged the statue-like Christopher over to me. “Let me introduce you properly. This is my husband, Christopher.” Staring at Christopher’s pale, sweat-slicked face, my lips curved into a freezing smirk. I extended my right hand, my voice clear and sharp. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Vance. I’ve heard so much about you.”

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