Category: English

I walked in on my husband, Blackrock Pack Alpha Kane, rolling around in our marital bed with his mistress Talia. I demanded a divorce on the spot. Talia, clothes still disheveled, immediately slapped me across the face and shrieked mockingly: “You’re nothing but a lowly waitress from a border club. What makes you think you have the right to ask an Alpha for a divorce? Do you really think you’re the Luna of Blackrock Pack?” Kane’s sister Jessa chimed in from the side: “So what if my brother has a mistress? What are you making such a fuss about?” Kane looked at me with undisguised impatience and warned: “Everything you have, I gave you. Without me, you’re nothing. Are you really going through with this divorce?” I nodded decisively: “Yes.” After all, my father, the Rogue King who strikes terror into the hearts of North American werewolves, was about to be released from prison. He’d been wanting to throw Kane to the rogues at the border to be torn apart for a long time now. Talia was Kane’s most favored mistress. Despite her humble origins, she was the most arrogant of all his lovers. Seeing my determination to divorce, a flash of joy flickered through Talia’s eyes. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, sneering at me with contempt: “Ungrateful women never come to a good end.” “Kane is the Alpha of Blackrock Pack. For a lowly waitress like you to marry him was your good fortune. Instead of being grateful that he pulled you out of the gutter, you’re making a scene about divorce over such a trivial matter as him having other women. You’re an absolute fool.” “You just got lucky, meeting Kane before he became Alpha. Otherwise, with your status, you wouldn’t even qualify to set foot in Blackrock Pack territory.” “If I could become Kane’s mate, I would never be as jealous as you. I would arrange all the women around him properly and never let such trivial matters distract him!” Talia’s words made it clear she wanted to steal my position as Luna. In the past, I might have confronted her angrily. But now, I’d completely given up on Kane. This so-called Luna position was nothing more than a cold cage to me. Jessa toyed with a sharp dagger, sneering at me with contempt: “You waitress, are you planning to use this divorce to blackmail my brother and force him to give you an astronomical settlement?” “Raina, can you stop being so naive?” “Do you think divorcing my brother will let you take a share of Blackrock Pack’s power and wealth? Like that Omega who divorced the Whitespire Pack Alpha a while back and became a top-tier rich woman overnight?” “You’d better abandon that idea right now! Before my brother married you, he made you sign a prenuptial agreement. And with me, Blackrock Pack’s chief lawyer, here, the moment you dare to divorce, you’ll leave with nothing but the clothes on your back. Not even a single strand of wolf fur!” Jessa certainly had grounds for her confidence. She’d studied countless loopholes in Alliance law. Though not the most elite lawyer, she’d fought plenty of divorce cases with extremely ruthless tactics. Even though I’d completely given up on Kane, hearing Jessa’s naked threats, I couldn’t help but feel a bone-chilling cold rise in my heart. I glared at Jessa and shouted: “Without me, the lowly waitress you speak of, you siblings wouldn’t be where you are today!” “Your brother was critically injured by rogues back then. I stayed by his side day and night, which let you study without pressure.” “And you? You couldn’t even afford tuition back then. If I hadn’t used my savings, you would’ve been expelled from the academy and sent back to the border long ago!” “You knelt before me back then, saying if your brother ever treated me badly, you’d be the first to hold him accountable…” Without my help back then, Jessa never could have completed her education. Kane would have died in the border’s snowfields long ago, let alone risen to his current position as Alpha. Back then, the siblings were grateful to me, practically wanting to worship me. I foolishly thought I’d found people who truly cared about me. And what happened? “You grabbed my hand back then, crying and saying I’d given you this life, and anyone who disrespected me would have to answer to you…” Without my unreserved efforts to save them, Jessa would have become just another corpse at the border long ago. Kane would have died in some unknown corner, never becoming Blackrock Pack’s Alpha. Back then, the siblings treated me like a second parent, ready to give me their very hearts. I foolishly thought I’d found family I could trust with my life. And what happened? After Kane firmly secured his position as Blackrock Pack’s Alpha, he stopped coming home. Instead, I frequently saw him in tabloid news, entering and leaving clubs with different Omegas, living it up without a care in the world. Ever since Jessa became Blackrock Pack’s lawyer and started dealing with elite wolves from various packs, she looked down on me more and more. She thought I, a club waitress, wasn’t worthy of her brother and brought shame to both siblings. Now they fancied themselves superior, never mentioning those days of struggling to survive in the garbage dumps. As if that period when they relied on my support was the greatest stain on their lives.

Kane and Jessa’s faces instantly turned ashen. Before I could finish speaking, Jessa suddenly grabbed the teacup beside her and hurled it viciously at me. The heavy cup struck my temple, and pain exploded through my head, darkening my vision. Warm blood trickled down from my brow bone, blurring my sight and leaving me in a wretched state. Jessa stared at me with vicious eyes and cursed: “Ungrateful trash! Who do you think you are, bringing up the past in front of me?” “Without my brother elevating you, you’d spend your whole life licking boots for lowlife wolves at that club! That little bit of kindness you showed us was your own choice. Did we beg you?” Kane leaned back on the sofa, legs crossed, watching me coldly: “Enough, Raina. Let me be frank with you. Omegas wanting to climb into my bed could form a line from here to the border. You’ve occupied the Luna position for years. I’ve provided you with the best food and lifestyle. I’ve done more than enough.” “This divorce is happening whether you like it or not. I don’t want people digging up the fact that my Luna used to serve plates at a club.” “Sign voluntarily, and I’ll let you keep some dignity. If you insist on making trouble, I have a hundred ways to make you disappear without a trace.” “But since you’ve been with me these past few years, I won’t go to extremes. Sign this agreement, and I’ll give you a million dollars. Take the money and disappear forever.” Kane had me sign a non-disclosure agreement. The agreement stated that after the divorce, I couldn’t mention how I’d helped the siblings in the past, and I couldn’t tell any pack that I’d been Kane’s partner or Blackrock Pack’s former Luna. I agreed without hesitation. Although Kane and I had been married for over three years, almost no one outside knew of my existence. Everyone assumed Blackrock Pack’s Alpha Kane was still single. After all, our wedding was extremely simple with no guests from any pack invited. The only witnesses were Blackrock Pack’s old priest and Jessa. Plus, after the marriage, Kane began his philandering, deliberately maintaining his persona as a single, eligible Alpha. Jessa also hinted at various occasions that both siblings were single. So these past three years, very few people knew I was Kane’s partner. I signed both the divorce and non-disclosure agreements, picked up the million-dollar check Kane tossed at me, and turned to leave this place that disgusted me. Just then, Talia spoke up with a mocking laugh: “Now that’s better. Raina, being sensible is good for everyone.” “Oh, by the way, isn’t your crippled old man in prison about to get out? What do you think he’ll do when he finds out his only daughter got kicked to the curb? Will he get so angry he ends up back inside?” Jessa picked up the thread, adding coldly: “Her dad? Ha, one old waste raising a younger waste, that’s all. If my brother hadn’t been kind-hearted back then, trash bloodlines like yours wouldn’t even qualify to step foot in our Blackrock Pack territory.” Kane looked at me coldly, his voice devoid of warmth: “You’ve signed the agreement and taken the money. From now on, you have no relationship with us siblings.” “I don’t care where you go or what you do, just don’t appear before me and dirty my sight.” “If I hear even half a word about us outside, I have ten thousand ways to make you regret leaving here alive.”

I said nothing, suppressing the grief and rage churning inside me, and walked out of Blackrock Pack’s main fortress without looking back. Returning to what used to be our residence, I quickly packed my personal belongings, tears falling despite my efforts to hold them back. Who could I blame for things ending up this way? I could only blame myself for being blind, for showing mercy back then and saving these ungrateful siblings! I dragged my suitcase out of the residence, wanting to take a shortcut through the back alley behind the main fortress to get to the station. I’d just entered the alley when I heard chaotic, heavy footsteps behind me. Before I could turn around, several rough hands shoved me hard from behind. Several burly men blocked both ends of the alley, each emanating the fierce aura of werewolves. I recognized them. The leader was Vorn, Kane’s head of security. Vorn and his men used to be rogues from the border. After following Kane, they’d transformed into Blackrock Pack’s guards. Before, when they saw me, they would respectfully call me Luna. Now, their faces were twisted with savage grins, looking especially terrifying in the dim alley. “Why the rush? Luna,” Vorn drawled, stepping closer to me. “The brothers haven’t seen you off yet.” I backed up until my spine hit the wall, saying in a low voice: “I’ve already signed the divorce papers. I have nothing to do with Blackrock Pack anymore. Let me pass.” Vorn and the men behind him laughed. “Let you pass? That won’t do.” He walked up to me and looked down, lowering his voice: “Don’t blame us for being ruthless. You shouldn’t have offended people you can’t afford to offend.” “Jessa said it herself—you taking that million and walking out the door is like slapping her face. She needs to teach you that Blackrock Pack’s money isn’t easy to take.” “She told us brothers to take good care of you, preferably filming something as a keepsake. That way, even if you try to make waves later, you’ll have to consider your own reputation first.” “Talia said you were quite good at servicing people at the club back in the day. Today we’ll let you practice your old skills so they don’t get rusty.” “Blame your own bad luck for deserving to be disposed of like garbage!” With that, Vorn and his men reached out with lecherous grins, trying to tear at my clothes. At this critical moment, a tremendous noise came from the mouth of the alley. They turned with furious expressions, ready to curse, but the next second, that anger froze on their faces, replaced by bone-deep terror as they all looked toward the alley entrance. A group of men radiating fierce auras, carrying steel pipes and silver blades, surrounded Vorn and his men. The leader strode up to us and shoved Vorn aside roughly. Vorn and his men trembled under the oppressive presence, hastily begging for mercy: “Bosses, have you got the wrong people?” “We’re from Blackrock Pack. Our boss is Alpha Kane!” “Bosses, let’s talk this out, let’s talk…” The group of men completely ignored Vorn’s pleas and turned in unison to bow respectfully to me: “Luna Raina, Rogue King Gareth wishes to see you!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “390957”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I loved the three Hunt brothers for ten long years. I thought giving them everything would make them cherish me. It didn’t. I gave them my heart. I worked for them for free for ten years. But they took the glory that should have been mine. They took my wedding dress. They gave it all to Serena. That fake little snake. The most ridiculous part? When the earthquake hit, I was the one who risked my life to save them. And they still chose the fraud who stole my identity. They pushed me into the frozen lake. The moment the water closed over my head, my heart died. After they pulled me out, I called their uncle. “Can we move up our wedding?” Elara’s POV “The winner of this year’s Most Influential Internet Personality Award is…” The spotlight swept across the vast ceiling. The entire audience held its breath, waiting. I sat in the front row, took a deep breath, and lifted my dress. As a lifestyle blogger with thirty million followers, I had to win this award. And tonight’s gala was hosted by Hunt Corporation. The three Hunt brothers, Cole, Nathan, and Ethan, weren’t just the presenters. They were the men I’d grown up with. The men I was supposed to marry one day. I planned to officially announce my choice of husband in tonight’s acceptance speech. “Serena Shaw! Let’s congratulate Serena!” The host’s voice rang out, brimming with excitement. My hand stopped on my dress. The spotlight swung past me and hit a woman in the back row. White dress. Fake surprise plastered on her face. Serena Shaw. She’d been active for less than six months. Her entire career was built on copying me. She was also the Hunt family maid’s daughter. The room was stunned. My followers erupted. “What’s going on? Elara’s award was stolen?” “How does Serena even qualify? She clearly cheated!” But what really made my blood boil were the three men coming down from the stage. Cole Hunt, wearing an expensive suit, extended his hand to Serena. Nathan Hunt carefully smoothed her dress. And Ethan Hunt, the superstar, casually put his arm around her shoulders and led her toward the stage. The three of them didn’t even glance at me. I sat there in the front row, awkward and furious, like a complete fool. After the awards ceremony ended, I returned to the backstage lounge. I pushed open the door to see the three brothers celebrating with Serena. I asked them, hurt and confused. “Why? My fan vote count was clearly far higher than everyone else’s.” Cole frowned with impatience. “Elara, you already have thirty million followers. Do you really care about one trophy? Serena’s just starting out. She needs this award to support her career more than you do.” “Exactly,” Ethan laughed, playing with his lighter. “Can you stop being so greedy? Don’t you know how long Serena prepared for this gala?” Nathan said coldly, “As compensation, I can give you ads for next quarter. Stop making a scene. You’re acting like a clown.” I looked at these three familiar faces, my heart clenched by an invisible hand, the pain suffocating. These were the three men I’d loved for so many years. For Cole’s media company, I’d worked for free as a tool to boost engagement for all his accounts. For Nathan’s investment business, I personally helped him sell products. For Ethan’s acting career, I promoted his work on my account every single day. But now, they were viciously putting me down just to make Serena happy. “I understand.” I didn’t lose control. I just answered very calmly. I turned and walked out of the lounge. The cold wind outside hit my face, and my mind had never been clearer. I’d planned to marry one of the three. But now I had a better idea. Half an hour later, I stood shivering in my grandparents’ living room. “I’ve decided. The person I want to marry is Damon Hunt.” Grandma was so shocked she nearly dropped her cup. “Are you crazy, Elara? Damon is Cole’s uncle! He’s six years older than you, cold, and impossible to get along with…” “I’m not crazy.” I clutched my clothes, nails digging into my palms. “Those three don’t love me, and I’m done hurting myself. Please, Grandma. Ask Damon if he’ll marry me.” Grandma saw the pain in my eyes and let out a long sigh. She dialed Damon Hunt’s number. The moment the call connected, I was incredibly nervous. “Hello.” Damon Hunt’s voice was deep and pleasant. Grandma briefly explained the situation. The silence on the other end was suffocating. Every second of pause was torture for me. My mind went blank. I’d even prepared myself for a ruthless rejection. After a long time, Damon Hunt on the other end laughed softly, his tone lazy and unreadable. “Sure. Tell Elara I’m willing to marry her.” The weight on my heart finally lifted. Tears streamed down my face. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Elara’s POV When I returned to the villa I shared with Cole and the others, it was already late at night. The villa blazed with lights. Serena’s and the Hunt brothers’ cheers pierced my eardrums. Streamers hung in the living room. A champagne tower was stacked high. Cole, Ethan, and Nathan surrounded Serena as she cut a cake, celebrating her award. Hearing the sound of the door opening, everyone looked at me. Serena fearfully hid behind Cole, calling out softly, “Elara, you’re back… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take your award. Cole and the others insisted on giving it to me…” “Enough, Serena. Why are you apologizing to her?” Ethan impatiently cut her off, then turned to look at me with contempt. “Elara, who are you throwing a tantrum for? It’s just an award. Does it really make you this crazy?” I ignored him and walked straight toward the stairs, ready to pack my belongings. “Stop.” Cole’s loud voice halted me. His tall frame blocked the stairway. “Since you’re back, there’s something I need to tell you. Hand over the password to your account with ten million followers. Give it to Serena.” I suspected I’d heard wrong. “What did you say?” “Are you deaf?” Nathan mocked. “Serena just won an award. She needs traffic and exposure right now. Your account has a lot of followers. It’s perfect for her to use for business deals. You have other accounts anyway.” I was livid with rage. I’d spent four years building that account. I’d traveled alone to cities all over the country with my camera, spent countless nights editing videos, slowly accumulating those followers! And now they wanted me to just hand it over to Serena with one sentence? “Impossible.” I looked into Cole’s eyes and immediately refused. “That’s my personal property. It has nothing to do with you. Want to give my account to Serena? I refuse.” “Elara, you’re such a bitch!” Ethan suddenly stood up, pointing at my nose as he cursed. “You usually spend our money, live in our house, and now when we ask you to help Serena with one small favor, you refuse. How can you be so selfish and vicious?” “I spend your money?” I said mockingly. “I bought this villa. I earned the money for your daily expenses by taking on ads! Who’s spending whose money?!” “Enough!” Cole’s expression turned ugly, as if I’d hit a nerve. “Elara, I’m asking you one last time. Are you giving up the account or not?” “No.” “Good. Very good.” Cole laughed mockingly and pulled out his phone to call his assistant. “Freeze all of Elara’s social media accounts registered under the company immediately. No one is allowed to unlock them without my permission.” After hanging up, he looked at me with contempt. “Since you’re so principled, let me see how you survive on your own without our help. When you come to your senses, kneel down and apologize to Serena. Then I’ll consider returning your accounts.” Serena gently tugged on Cole’s sleeve from behind, saying softly, “Cole, forget it. Elara just cares too much about that award. I don’t need her account anymore…” “Serena, stay out of this. We need to fix her arrogant attitude today!” Nathan chimed in. Looking at these three men in front of me, I suddenly felt disgusted. I didn’t want to spend another second in this house reeking of disgust. I turned and went upstairs. Ten minutes later, I came down dragging a suitcase. “What are you trying to do now?” Ethan sneered. “Running away from home in the middle of the night? If you’ve got guts, don’t come back once you walk out that door!” I didn’t give them a single glance. I dragged my suitcase straight toward the door. The moment my hand gripped the doorknob, I paused. Without turning back, I said, “Don’t worry. I’ll never set foot in here again. I don’t want this house anymore.” The door slammed shut with a bang, cutting off the noise inside. The night wind was very cold. I pulled my coat tighter and took out my phone. Looking at the forced logout notification on the screen, my eyes held no tears, only hatred. It’s fine. If my account is gone, I can rebuild.

Elara’s POV The day after moving out of the villa, I received a call from my mother. The moment she answered, her abuse came through. “Elara, have you lost your mind?! What did you do to make Cole angry? This morning he cancelled three collaboration projects with our company! Are you trying to destroy our whole family?!” I gripped my phone tightly, saying painfully, “Mom, they forcibly froze my accounts just to promote Serena, and they tried to steal my work…” “I don’t care!” Mom’s shrill voice stabbed my eardrums. “What use is a woman doing social media? Your job is to please the Hunt men and successfully marry them! I order you to go apologize to them right now. Even if you have to kneel to that woman, you need to get those collaborations back for me!” Before I could speak, she hung up. I looked at the darkened screen, my lips twisting into a smile uglier than crying. This was my family. In their eyes, I’d never been a daughter, just a bargaining chip for profit. Taking a deep breath, I pushed down the bitterness and took a cab to Hunt Corporation. I wasn’t going to apologize. I was going to retrieve my personal hard drive. It contained all my original footage and unreleased work from the past few years. My only capital for rebuilding my accounts. When I reached my former private office, I was shocked. The office door stood wide open. The minimalist decor that had been mine was completely gone, replaced with frilly lace and stuffed animals. Serena sat in my chair, playing with my personal hard drive in her hands! “Who said you could touch my things?” I strode in, demanding coldly. Serena jumped in fright. Her hand slipped, and the hard drive hit the desk with a clatter. “Elara…” Serena’s eyes instantly reddened like a startled rabbit’s. “I’m sorry. Cole said this office is mine now. I didn’t know this was yours…” “Give it back to me.” I was too lazy to listen to her talk. I reached out directly to take it. Just as my fingertips were about to touch the hard drive, Serena suddenly cried out. Her body lurched backward, and along with it, the hard drive in her hand fell heavily toward the massive decorative fish tank beside her! Splash! The hard drive sank instantly to the bottom, releasing a few bubbles before being completely ruined. “My hard drive!” I screamed in shock and pain. That contained five years of my work! “What are you doing?!” An enraged male voice came from the doorway. Cole rushed in quickly, shoving me aside and carefully helping Serena up from the floor. Nathan and Ethan followed behind them. Seeing this scene, their expressions instantly darkened. “Elara, have you gone crazy?!” Ethan rushed forward, pointing at my nose as he cursed. “You not only ran away from home, now you’re coming to the company to attack Serena? Are you sick?!” “I didn’t push her. She fell on her own and threw my hard drive in the water!” I pointed at the tank, my whole body trembling. “That had all my footage!” “Enough!” Cole cut me off, his eyes as cold as if looking at an enemy. “Serena is so kind. How could she deliberately destroy your things? You’re clearly jealous she took your office!” Nathan pushed up his glasses, his tone cutting. “Elara, you’re getting more and more insane. It’s just a hard drive. How much could it be worth? You scared Serena like this. Apologize to her immediately!” Looking at these three stupid men, I suddenly felt absurd. I used to think that if I just tried hard enough, was enthusiastic enough, I could eventually move them. But now I understood. Idiots can’t see the truth. “Apologize?” I stared at them, the light in my eyes extinguishing bit by bit, turning into a desolate wasteland. “Impossible.” I didn’t look at the hard drive in the tank again. I turned, straightened my back, and walked out of the office step by step. Ethan’s shout came from behind. “Elara, if you dare walk out that door today, even if you beg us on your knees later, we’ll never forgive you!” My steps didn’t pause. Forgive me? You don’t deserve to.

Elara’s POV After leaving Hunt Corporation, I went to New York’s largest underground auction house. Next month was my wedding with Damon Hunt. Although it was a contractual marriage, Damon had given me enough dignity and respect on the phone. I wanted to prepare a wedding gift for him. In the auction catalog, a pair of sapphire cufflinks from European royalty in the last century caught my eye. Expensive and luxurious. They seemed exactly like the feeling Damon gave me. I checked my account. Although my main account was frozen, I still had some money in my personal account. Just enough to buy these cufflinks. The auction progressed to the second half, and the cufflinks were finally presented on the display stand. “Starting bid, two million.” I bid without hesitation. “Two million five hundred thousand.” “Three million.” A female voice came from the front row. I frowned and looked up to see Serena sitting on Nathan’s lap, holding up her bidding paddle. Cole and Ethan sat on either side of her. Just my luck. I gritted my teeth and raised my paddle again. “Three million five hundred thousand.” Serena looked back at me, bit her lip pitifully, and acted coy with Nathan. “Nathan, those cufflinks are so beautiful. I want to buy them as a birthday gift for Cole, but it seems Elara really likes them too…” Nathan laughed coldly and raised his paddle directly. “Five million.” The whole venue was shocked. Five million for a pair of cufflinks was way over market value. My palms were sweating. I only had eight million in liquid funds in my account. “Six million.” I gritted my teeth and followed. Ethan laughed mockingly. “Elara, we kicked you out, and you still have money left? Buying expensive men’s cufflinks. Who are they for? Don’t tell me you’re trying to butter us up and get back in our good graces.” Cole said contemptuously, “It’s useless. Anything you give, I’d find dirty.” I didn’t even look at them, keeping my eyes on the auctioneer. Nathan was enraged by my disregard and raised his paddle directly. “Eight million.” At that number, my heart sank completely. I had no more money to bid. Just as the auctioneer was about to drop the hammer, Serena suddenly grabbed Nathan’s hand. “Nathan, forget it. Elara doesn’t even have a job now. This might be her last savings. I don’t need them. Let her have them.” Nathan snorted coldly. “She’s lucky. Serena, you’re just too kind.” In the end, I bought the cufflinks for eight million. I emptied every penny in my account and walked out of the auction house with the beautifully packaged velvet box. Just as I reached the main entrance, Serena blocked my path. Cole and the others stood not far away smoking, not following over. “Elara, can I see the cufflinks?” Serena’s face wore a provocative smile. “Something you spent all your savings on must be very precious, right?” I looked at her coldly. “Get lost.” “Don’t be so stingy.” Serena suddenly reached out and snatched the box from my hands. “What are you doing!” I was furious, reaching to grab it back. But Serena suddenly stepped back and loosened her hand. Click. The velvet box fell to the ground, and two exquisite sapphire cufflinks rolled out. Serena’s high heel seemed to accidentally step forward, directly kicking one of the cufflinks into the nearby storm drain grate! “Oh no!” Serena covered her mouth, crying out in surprise. “I’m so sorry, Elara. I didn’t mean to. My hand slipped…” My brain buzzed. That was the gift I’d spent all my money on for Damon! I raised my hand and slapped Serena hard across the face! Smack! The crisp sound of the slap was especially loud in the night. Serena screamed and fell to the ground, clutching her face as she burst into tears. “Elara, you’re asking for death!” Ethan was the first to rush over, shoving me aside. My back slammed hard into a solid column, making me gasp in pain. Cole and Nathan also rushed over. Seeing Serena’s swollen face, their eyes instantly became terrifying. “Elara, you actually dared to hit her?!” Cole grabbed my throat, pinning me against the column, his eyes full of rage. “They’re just cufflinks. Serena accidentally dropped them. We’ll pay you double! How dare you get physical!” “Pay?” I was being choked, struggling to breathe, but I still stared at them, a cold smile on my lips. “Pay with what? You blind trash don’t even understand what’s valuable!” “You still dare to talk back!” Nathan’s eyes were frightening. “Ethan, throw her in the lake nearby. Let her sober up!” Ethan didn’t hesitate. He came forward, grabbed my arm, and regardless of my struggles, dragged me toward the icy lakeside. Splash! The lake water was freezing, instantly swallowing my head.

Elara’s POV The freezing lake water rushed into my nose. I struggled violently in the water. I couldn’t swim. On the shore, the three Hunt brothers watched coldly. “What’s she pretending for? The water’s only five feet deep. She could stand up and live.” Ethan had his hands in his pockets, saying mockingly, “Elara, your acting is way too fake.” Serena leaned against Cole, deliberately saying, “Cole, Elara really seems like she can’t swim. Maybe we should pull her up. What if something happens…” “What could happen? She’s strong as an ox.” Nathan pushed up his glasses, his eyes cold. “Let her soak in the water for half an hour. Then we’ll see if she dares hit you again.” Underwater, I heard these words, and the despair in my heart was colder than the lake water. I gave up struggling and let my body slowly sink. Just as my consciousness was about to blur, park staff finally noticed something was wrong and jumped in to rescue me. I was completely soaked, coughing violently on the shore in a wretched state, almost vomiting bile. Cole looked down at me from above, like looking at garbage. “Today’s just a warning. If there’s a next time, I guarantee you won’t be able to stay in New York.” After speaking, they escorted Serena into their luxury car and left. The night wind blew, and I shivered all over. I dragged my heavy steps to kneel by the storm drain grate, using my frozen fingers to pick at the gaps bit by bit, trying to retrieve the fallen cufflink. But it was too deep. I couldn’t feel anything. I was alone on the deep-night street, like a pitiful ghost abandoned by the whole world. The next day, I developed a high fever. I forced myself to open my phone, only to find that online abuse had completely drowned me. Serena had done a livestream last night. In the stream, she held my golden retriever “Buddy” that I’d raised for three years, crying miserably. Buddy looked very unwell. Serena said in the livestream, “Poor Buddy. His previous owner often locked him in a cage for work and didn’t even feed him. Now that I’ve brought him home, I’ll definitely take good care of him.” The three Hunt brothers even reposted this video from their respective accounts with the caption: “People who abuse animals don’t deserve forgiveness.” This was undoubtedly slandering me with a scandal. Online fury was completely ignited. “Elara can go die! Dog-abusing bitch!” “I used to like her, but she’s actually a poisonous woman!” “Boycott Elara! Make her get off the internet!” I looked at those vicious curses on the screen, my whole body shaking with anger. Buddy was a pet I’d raised from a puppy. I loved him like family. The day I moved out of the villa, Cole forcibly kept Buddy, saying he’d give him to Serena. Now they were turning it around, slandering me for abusing him! Just then, Mom called again. “Elara! What have you done! Cole officially announced the withdrawal of investment today. Our company’s stock has already hit the limit down!” Mother screamed on the other end. “You need to start a livestream right now and kneel to apologize to Serena! Admit that you abused the dog, that you’re jealous of her! Otherwise, I’ll act like I never had a daughter!” I closed my eyes as tears finally slid down my burning cheeks. “Mom,” my voice was hoarse, “I have a fever. One hundred and three point six degrees. I’m dying.” “That doesn’t matter!” Mom cut me off. “Even if you die, you need to resolve our company’s crisis first! I’m giving you one hour to post an apology video, or don’t ever come home again!” The call was hung up again. I curled up in the cold blanket, feeling like all the blood in my body had frozen. No one cared if I lived or died. My lovers. My family. My fans. Every one of them was pushing me toward the edge. Just as I was suffering, my phone screen suddenly lit up. It was a text from an unknown number. “Need help? -Damon Hunt.” Seeing this short sentence, my despairing heart suddenly beat violently. I bit my cracked lips and replied with trembling fingers. “No. I can handle it. Damon, can we move up our wedding?” He replied almost instantly. “As you wish. See you tomorrow, Elara.”

Elara’s POV After recovering from the high fever, I completely changed my life focus. I didn’t post an apology video, didn’t pay attention to the online abuse, but focused wholeheartedly on wedding preparations. Although Damon was abroad, he arranged the best team to assist me. The wedding venue was set at New York’s most expensive hillside manor, a private property under Damon’s name. That afternoon, I went to the bridal shop to try on the wedding dress I’d personally participated in designing. I’d spent an entire year designing it, originally intending to wear it for Cole and the others. Now, I just wanted to wear it and marry Damon beautifully. After trying on the dress, I took the packaged gown and headed to the hillside manor to decorate the wedding venue. However, the moment I pushed open the manor’s main door, I was completely shocked. The romantically decorated wedding venue was now in complete chaos. Expensive imported roses were trampled into mud. Carefully selected delicate decorations were thrown everywhere. In the center of the living room, the three Hunt brothers were playing loud music, partying with a group of friends. And Serena was wearing an extremely familiar white dress, laughing happily in the crowd. That was my backup wedding dress! “Well, well, if it isn’t our big star Elara?” Ethan walked over with a wine glass, swaying drunkenly, his face full of mockery. “What, did you come to attend Serena’s birthday party?” I stared at the wedding dress on Serena, my voice cold as ice. “Who allowed you to come in? Who allowed her to wear my wedding dress?!” “What are you yelling about?” Cole walked over frowning, protecting Serena behind him. “This manor is our company’s property. We can use it if we want. As for this cheap dress, Serena thought it looked nice. What’s wrong with her wearing it? Are you really that petty?” “Exactly.” Nathan sneered. “Elara, don’t tell me you actually think that by finding some random man and holding a fake wedding, you can provoke us?” They thought there was no way I could actually marry someone else. Everything I did was just to pressure them. Serena deliberately tugged at the wedding dress hem, saying delicately, “Elara, I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was your wedding dress. But this dress fits me perfectly. Cole said when we get engaged, he’ll let me wear this one.” As she spoke, she deliberately let her hand slip. Her wine glass tilted, and dark red liquid instantly splashed onto the pure white dress, leaving conspicuous stains. “Oops, I got it dirty.” Serena covered her mouth, apologizing without sincerity. I watched this scene without losing control like before, without shedding a single tear. I suddenly felt it was ridiculous. How stupid must I have been to fall in love with these three idiots? I calmly took out my phone, opened the camera, and clearly recorded this floor full of trash and their ugly faces. “What are you doing? Put your phone down!” Ethan’s expression changed, reaching to grab my phone. I stepped back, avoiding his hand, a mocking smile on my lips. “Cole Hunt. Nathan Hunt. Ethan Hunt.” I called out their names one by one, looking at them like they were already dead. “This wedding dress? Think of it as Serena’s funeral gown. And this venue? Since you like it so much, stay as long as you want. Play slowly.” “Because tomorrow, I’ll put on the world’s most expensive wedding dress, at New York’s most luxurious hotel, and marry a man you could never measure up to.” After speaking, without a trace of reluctance, I turned and walked out of the manor. Cole roared from behind. “Elara! Walk out that door, and tomorrow we’ll crash your fake wedding. We’ll make you the joke of New York.” I didn’t stop. I just kept walking. Crash it? Good. I’m looking forward to it. I couldn’t wait to see their faces when they found out who the groom really was.

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After the arts exam ended, I was cornered at the school gate by a small-time livestreaming influencer. She suddenly whipped her camera around viciously to point at me. “It’s her! Someone with zero coordination who somehow got first place in the dance exam.” “While I ended up in last place.” “You all know how hard I work—I livestream my dance practice for you before dawn even breaks.” “I wonder if she didn’t sleep her way onto an examiner’s bed to…” She wiped away her tears pitifully, instantly stirring up emotions among her so-called family. They all proceeded to cyberbully me en masse. Just as I was about to clarify. She said to the livestream with fake sincerity: “I just want everyone to give me justice, that’s all…” “I’m definitely not doing this for attention. If this turns out to be fake news, I, Lily Matthews, will apologize live on stream!” I let out a cold laugh, suddenly no longer wanting to clarify. I do indeed have poor coordination, but I didn’t even take the arts exam—my scores came entirely from my academic subjects, earned fair and square.

A few comments on the screen made her even more defensive. “You don’t even have evidence. Aren’t you just jealous of first place and maliciously slandering her?” “I’ve seen this kind of thing plenty of times—it’s just spreading sexual rumors!” Lily’s face flushed redder with anger as she pulled up a video of me dancing. “You want evidence? Go watch this! This is the evidence!” In the video, my entire body was stiff, my limbs uncoordinated, like someone with a disability. I looked at the video she’d pulled up on her phone and froze for a moment. I really did dance poorly in that video. If I had gotten first place, the arts exam might as well take my last name. But I didn’t take the exam. This was just a video my twin sister recorded after she finished her exam, insisting I try dancing. I have a twin sister. We share the same name. I never expected it to be used as evidence. I found the online comments amusing and didn’t defend myself. I even liked some comments critiquing my dancing. Seeing how unconcerned I was, Lily shoved her streaming equipment right in my face. “Family, look at her—she doesn’t feel guilty at all, she can still smile.” “If she doesn’t have someone backing her up, what else could it be?” “We’ve been classmates for three years, and I never thought she’d stab me in the back like this…” I frowned impatiently and pushed her away. Her equipment clattered to the ground. “I don’t know you. Keep this up and I’m calling the police!” She froze for a moment, her eyes full of contempt for me, then leaned close to my ear and said viciously: “Stop pretending, Sophia Smith. It won’t work!” “What I can’t stand most is rich people like you acting all high and mighty!” Seeing her like this, I understood. She had mistaken me for my twin sister. We’re both named Sophia Smith, and our faces are identical. Aside from the mole under our eyes being on different sides, there’s no difference between us. But I’m nothing like my sister—I’m not soft and easy to push around. I chuckled softly and leaned close to her ear: “What can you do about it? You’re still in last place.” Lily seemed shocked that I would say such a thing. She covered her face, picked up her streaming equipment, and burst into tears. “I just wanted to show all the arts exam students her true colors, so next time she takes an exam, don’t bother showing up—you won’t win…” “But she hit me… I really feel it’s not worth it for those of us who practice dance non-stop every day.” Watching her forcefully press handprints onto her own face and cry to the livestream viewers, I just found it noisy. Just as I was about to leave, she grabbed me tightly. “You can’t leave. Today I’m going to expose your true face… and get justice for all arts exam students!” I looked at her coldly. “I’m giving you one more chance. I don’t know you. Let go!” But she still gripped me tightly, her eyes full of provocation. I let out a cold laugh. “Don’t regret this!” During our standoff, she stirred up her family’s protective instincts. They ran straight to the school, pulled me away from her, and shielded Lily protectively. “You’re the one, aren’t you? Bullying Lily wasn’t enough, now you want to threaten her too?” “A social parasite like you should just die, along with your parents. Stop harming other people.” “Your parents are no good either, letting their child sleep with examiners. Disgusting. You should all go to hell!” Listening to the accusations around me, I clenched my fists. Lily looked at me smugly and made an unfriendly gesture. I laughed in anger and pulled out my phone to call the police. Lily’s expression changed instantly when she heard. “Who knows if real police will come? You’re probably trying to threaten me into silence!” Hearing this, her family rushed forward and knocked my phone away. They pushed me to the ground and pinned me down. But I had already called the police. The police arrived quickly, stopped this farce, and safely escorted me home. Those who had caused the disturbance were all given verbal warnings by the police. But the next day, her video accusing me by name of faking my scores went viral. She even took me to court, saying she wanted to seek justice for all arts exam students. I let out a cold laugh and retweeted the post. “See you in court in three days. I hope your last place ranking is well-deserved!”

Over the next three days, the online abuse and questioning didn’t decrease at all. Some netizens even mocked me for being stupid. Why make such a big deal of something that could be resolved privately? Did I have a grudge against my own parents? I wasn’t worried at all. I sent all the IDs spreading rumors and defaming me to my lawyer, preserving the evidence. At that moment, my parents called. “Sophia, should we tell your sister to come back and clarify things?” I refused. My sister had finally gotten into the world’s top dance academy for intensive closed training. I didn’t want her distracted at this time. My parents sighed, told me to stay safe, and hung up. Soon, the court day arrived. Outside was already packed with people, camera equipment pointed at my face like cannons. “Sophia Smith, did you really get those scores by using your body?” “Is it because your family can control everything that you’re so calm?” “Sophia Smith, do you think money can fix everything?” I raised an eyebrow, ignored everyone, and walked straight in. Everyone inside had already arrived. The gallery was full, and streaming equipment was set up everywhere. When Lily saw me arrive, she instantly put on an aggrieved expression and pretended to wipe away tears. Immediately, voices appeared sympathizing with her, and the insults toward me increased. I sat down across from her, my expression unchanged. As soon as I sat down, tears poured from her eyes. “Your Honor, I didn’t want to use public resources, but this matter really has corruption…” “Although I’m insignificant, I still want to get justice for myself and fairness for all arts exam students.” She paused, then turned to the camera with red eyes. “And thank you all for giving me the courage to speak out!” After speaking, she handed evidence to the staff, and the screen displayed that video from online. “I’ve seen her dance. Her coordination is terrible. She can’t even do basic exercises without her hands and feet fighting each other. This video is proof.” When the video ended, the judge asked me seriously: “Sophia Smith, do you admit the person in the video is you?” I didn’t hesitate: “I admit it. It’s me.” Instantly, mocking laughter filled the room. “Where was this attitude earlier? Now she’s scared.” “She’s just stubborn. Boring. I thought there’d be a plot twist.” My tone shifted. “But this video was just taken while I was fooling around, not during the arts exam. How can it prove my scores are fake?” Lily hadn’t expected me to say this. She was stunned for a moment, then retorted: “Sophia Smith, even when we dance students are fooling around, you can tell we have foundation. You’re worse than someone with zero foundation. Stop making excuses. Admitting your mistakes isn’t shameful.” I glanced at her coldly and said to the judge: “Your Honor, I don’t accept this evidence. Please have the opposing party present other evidence.” The judge indicated for her to proceed. The screen suddenly changed to show photos of me and a man entering a hotel at night. The blurry quality made it seem like the man and I were very close. The date in the bottom right corner was exactly the day before the arts exam. Lily looked at me and wiped away fake tears. “Sophia, I considered you a good friend and didn’t want to turn hostile, but you’ve gone too far.” “You entered a hotel with Professor Miller the night before, and then your score became first place. If you say this is a coincidence, I don’t believe it!” The judge looked at me: “Do you admit this?” I nodded calmly. “I just stayed at a hotel near the exam venue in advance. I don’t know this man, and besides, the quality is blurry—it doesn’t prove we were intimate.” She suddenly smiled and said: “I knew you wouldn’t admit it, so I invited Professor Miller here.” Professor Miller walked in at that moment. He saw me and froze, then pointed at me and said: “I think I’ve seen you before!”

I froze and asked back: “Are you sure it was me?” He looked at me for a long while, nodded, then shook his head. “That night I had some drinks with other teachers at a gathering. I think I ran into you outside the hotel. You seemed like you wanted to get close to me…” I rolled my eyes internally. At the time, I had just felt sympathetic, seeing him about to collapse and preparing to help him up. Gasps filled the room. “It’s confirmed—she got those scores by using her body.” “If Lily didn’t have some followers, this matter would probably have been swept under the rug.” “It’s too hard for ordinary people to speak up.” The judge spoke. “Sophia Smith, regarding Lily’s claim that you obtained high scores through improper relationships, do you admit it?” I shook my head. “No.” The gallery erupted in murmurs, all telling me to stop struggling. Lily symbolically shed two tears, her voice choking up. “Sophia, we’ve known each other for three years. I don’t want to see you go to prison. As long as you apologize, I’ll plead for you. Although you won’t be able to go to college, you can do other things, or just live off your family—you’re rich anyway. Please leave us ordinary people alone…” After listening to her finish, I slowly spoke. “But this doesn’t prove I had relations with him and made him alter my scores. Besides, the hotel has records—I stayed alone.” “Professor Miller, did I sleep with you that night and have you change my scores?” Hearing this, Professor Miller quickly waved his hands. “I would never have relations with a student. Although I drank that night and wasn’t clear-headed, I was definitely alone!” “The arts exam is scored jointly by several teachers. It’s impossible for one teacher’s score change to matter!” But everyone present showed expressions of disbelief. They thought he was trying to cover it up. Finally, he was sent back to the witness seat. Seeing this, Lily covered her face and sobbed. “Since you’re so obstinate, I can’t care about our friendship anymore.” “Emma Sweet, you tell them!” Emma Sweet walked up from the witness stand, looking at me with provocation in her eyes. I knew her. She was that friend who always resented my sister for being better than her despite coming from a poor family. She even took my sister’s kindness as malice and ostracized her, causing my usually sunny sister to become gloomy for a while. Later, after my guidance, my sister came out of it and distanced herself from this toxic friend. She addressed the judge: “I’m her best friend. I personally saw her dance terribly in dance class. Her coordination was awful—she would always step on herself and fall flat on her face.” “Even classmates asked me if she had just started learning, and told me to ask her why she was only starting so close to the arts exam—she’d never pass.” I scoffed. My sister had danced very well in class with her before. Only after becoming mentally exhausted and not wanting to attend class with Emma, but also not wanting to waste the tuition, did she have me go instead. That’s how this scene came about. The judge asked me: “Do you agree?” I nodded. “What she said is indeed me.” “But I…”

Lily immediately interrupted me, her eyes showing unconcealed malice. “But what? Are you going to say she saw you dancing casually?” “Or that she’s not your best friend? That we’re all lying to everyone?” She addressed the camera indignantly. “I don’t want to be so aggressive, but I just want fairness, to keep the arts exam the pure place it used to be.” Watching her speak so righteously, with tears and snot covering her face, I couldn’t help but laugh. Lily froze in place, so angry she pointed at me. But before she could say anything, Emma shrieked at me: “Do you think I’m lying? All the dance class students can testify—with your level, there’s no way you could be first place!” “I don’t know what you’ve been so arrogant about around me. You’re just relying on your family’s money and power, treating us like servants.” “Now we’re not indulging you anymore. Not used to it, are you?” The judge banged the table and asked: “Sophia Smith, since you’ve admitted to all the evidence Lily has presented, that’s essentially admitting everything she said is true.” “Your scores were obtained through an improper relationship. We have the right to investigate you and cancel your exam results.” The gallery laughed mockingly, all feeling sorry for Lily. “I thought she had some tricks. Lily’s score was probably switched with hers!” “Exactly. They should give Lily back her first place!” Some even threw paper balls and water bottles at me. It was chaos all around, but my smile grew wider. The judge banged the table. “Quiet!” “Sophia Smith, if you don’t have other evidence to prove your scores aren’t fake, the judgment will take effect immediately.” Just as I was about to speak, my sister’s voice came from outside. “Of course she has evidence.” “Because I’m the one who got first place in the arts exam, and she, my sister.” “Never took the arts exam at all. All her scores came from academic subjects, earned fair and square!”

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My twin sister eloped for love, and I was forced to pretend to be her and marry Matias. But I was also Matias’s secretary. So during the day, Matias wore sharp suits, all refined and restrained, scolding me with an icy face until I wanted to die. At night, he’d loosen his tie and turn wild, insatiable and filthy-mouthed, biting my neck and saying: “Kate, if it weren’t for you, I would’ve fired your sister Violet ages ago.” Me: “…Haha.” The second before my total breakdown, my twin sister Kate came home, demanding I give her back the position of Matias’s wife. At the same time, Matias told me to get lost. “You’ve been secretly seducing me all along. Don’t think I haven’t noticed! Out of respect for your sister, I’m giving you face. Resign yourself. I don’t want to see you again!” Me: “…Wow.” I scammed them both out of a fortune and made a clean getaway. Three months later, I was lying on a beach sunbathing when Kate called me crying: “Matias won’t touch me. Come back and help us have a baby, please?” “Violet, I’m begging you to help me.” I hung up and fell into deep thought. Matias, that horny bastard, went three months without sex? How hasn’t he died from pent-up frustration?

I was Matias’s secretary, but I was about to quit. Who would’ve thought that Matias, who was ice-cold and kept everyone at arm’s length during the day, turned into a horny mess in bed at night? During meetings, his slender fingers would tap lightly on the table, his expression sharp and commanding, radiating intimidating pressure. But all I could think about was how he’d worn black lace lingerie last night, curling his toes and whining sweetly: “Hurry up~” “Violet!” A colleague next to me poked me, and only then did I hear Matias calling my name. I immediately apologized: “I’m sorry, I was just…” “Spacing out during a meeting? Am I paying you all this money to sit around doing nothing?” His face was full of disgust: “Don’t you sleep at night? You look half-dead every day. And when did SKY’s secretaries start coming to work looking so disheveled?” I was confused for a moment. Following his gaze, I realized he was talking about the hickey on my neck. Even my scarf couldn’t hide it. I pressed my lips together and said softly, “I’m sorry, I…” “I don’t need explanations!” He looked at me coldly: “Violet, I hope you understand—if it weren’t for your sister, you wouldn’t even deserve to be in this position! “Keep things with your boyfriend under control. I don’t want to see this kind of indecent display again. One more time, and you’re fired!” With that, ignoring my utterly mortified expression, he slammed the documents on the table, lifted his chin, and declared sharply: “Meeting adjourned!”

I’d been scolded, and I felt ashamed, but I still couldn’t muster any energy. Last night I’d only managed three hours of sleep total. My head felt like it was about to explode. I sat at my desk in a daze, looking depressed. Near lunchtime, I wobbled downstairs and went to the company’s adjacent apartment building. I rummaged through the closet and pulled out an elegant haute couture outfit and a dazzling diamond necklace. Under the dim lighting, the yellow diamond was as rich as solidified amber. It was the set Matias had bought for his wife at an auction last month. Worth ten million dollars, it even made headline news at the time. Now it was in my hands, and I was casually tapping it against the table, playing with the sound it made. That’s right—the wife he loved to his core was me, and the secretary he scolded into wanting to die was also me. He thought we were twin sisters, but it was actually both me. The hickey he found indecent—he’d made it himself last night. Half a year ago, I’d just started working as Matias’s secretary when my parents called me home. They said Kate had eloped with her boyfriend, and now there was no one to marry into the Williams family. They wanted me to marry him, under Kate’s name. “Kate will definitely regret this later. We can’t leave her without options!” Mom cried and begged me: “Violet, you’ve been with us since you were little, but Kate stayed in the countryside—she hasn’t had your advantages. She didn’t even get into high school.” “Just think of it as paying back what you owe her. Do this for her, okay?” She threatened to kill herself. Helpless, I agreed. I’d originally thought I’d just need to be Matias’s wife in name only, like most couples—politely minding our own business, maybe even living separately. At first, that’s exactly how it was. But later, Matias turned into a sex-crazed demon, clinging to me every night. Whenever I said no, his eyes would turn red and he’d look at me pitifully, his strong thighs wrapped around my waist, asking hoarsely: “Honey, don’t you love me anymore? Do you have another man out there?” Sigh… What could I do? He was the one clinging to me, so I could only reluctantly indulge him. It was exciting at first, but later, I just wanted to castrate Matias. Especially this past month—I’d averaged only three hours of sleep per night. Severely sleep-deprived, I made mistakes at work constantly, getting chewed out every single day. This life of working during the day and “overtime” at night—I really couldn’t take it anymore. I clutched my hair and collapsed onto the bed. Before I could figure out what to do, I fell into a drowsy sleep.

An hour later, the alarm woke me up. Resentfully, I put on makeup, pinned up my hair, transferred takeout into lunch boxes, and carried them over to Matias to bring him food. He was in a video conference, his brows sharp as he listened to reports from his European subordinates. When he saw me, he beckoned me over, gesturing for me to sit on his lap. “Why so late?” He buried his head in the crook of my neck, half-acting spoiled, half-complaining: “I thought you weren’t coming today.” The computer was still playing the formal report on speaker. Even though the mic and camera were off, I still felt embarrassed. I pushed him away uncomfortably and said: “You’re still in a meeting. Don’t do this.” “What’s there to be afraid of? We’re married. It doesn’t matter if others see.” “Don’t you think it’s indecent?” He paused before catching on, his face darkening instantly: “Did Violet complain to you again?” “She’s a young woman. Being scolded by you in public would hurt her feelings too… Don’t scold her next time, okay?” Matias fell silent. After a long moment, he kissed the corner of my mouth: “I know you’re kind, but don’t you think she’s imitating you in every way?” “Huh?” Matias turned on his mic and told them to move the meeting to the afternoon, then turned back to me: “Even twins can’t be identical in behavior and preferences. “But you like pearls, so she wears pearl earrings every day; you have a lively, cheerful personality, so she bounces around at work; you have a rising inflection at the end of your sentences, and she does the same. It’s obviously calculated.” “You mean…” “She’s imitating you to seduce me.” Matias said with certainty: “I’ve seen plenty of women like her. They take advantage of your trust in them to steal your man.” “You’re just too kind, that’s why you think she’s a good person. She’s bullied you since childhood, and your parents favor her. You need to be careful.” As he spoke, his fingers caressed my waist. His tone was serious and earnest, adopting the posture of educating his naive wife, leaving me thunderstruck. “Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” I smiled weakly: “Violet isn’t that kind of person.” “I knew you’d say that.” Matias sighed in disappointment: “Kate, I’m the person closest to you. Why don’t you believe me, and instead trust her?” Me: “…” I was speechless. Fortunately, Matias didn’t dwell on this matter. He just lovingly kissed me and held me while we ate in that position. When I left, he pulled me in for a goodbye kiss. After I tiredly walked out of the Williams Group building and had just wiped away the sticky sensation on my lips, I received a call from Matias. He tore into me: “Are you a child? Running to Kate to tattle when you get scolded? And what about last month’s report? It’s riddled with errors. If you can’t do the job, get out! Useless!” In that instant, I couldn’t control the twisted expression on my face. The next second, another call came in. I answered furiously: “I already said I’d be right back. Can you stop rushing me—” “Violet.” A gentle, familiar voice came through: “It’s me, Kate. I’m back.”

My relationship with Kate was complicated. We were indeed twins, but we hadn’t grown up together. I’d been with our parents in New York while they ran their business; she’d stayed with our grandparents in our hometown. Our parents always felt they’d wronged her. After bringing her to New York, they doted on her excessively and made me give in to her in everything. Whenever anything happened, it was always: “You stole Kate’s affection. You owe her this!” Later, when my sister didn’t get into high school, our parents sent her to study in Europe while I stayed in the country. We weren’t very close to each other. So hearing her speak to me in such a warm, familiar tone, my first reaction was confusion: “What do you want?” “I heard from Mom about our family’s arrangement with Matias.” Hearing my impatience, she stopped with the fake politeness: “Now that I’m back, shouldn’t you return the position of Matias’s wife to me?” “Come back to steal the position! What, did that gangster boyfriend dump you?” I mocked. “Violet, don’t push your luck!” She lowered her voice angrily: “Don’t forget, the Matias’s wife that the Williams family acknowledges is only me, Kate. What right does a fake like you have to be arrogant?” She had a point. Whether it was the Johnson family claiming their married-off daughter, or the wife Matias publicly acknowledged, it was Kate. Sometimes when Matias got in the mood, he’d call me Kate sweetly in bed. Disgusting. I crossed my arms: “I can’t clean up your mess for nothing!” “What do you mean?” She asked warily. “Give me ten million, or we’ll go to Matias and hash out who’s really his wife.” I said with a beaming smile: “Ten million for the position of Matias’s wife—that’s a great deal.” Out of guilt toward her, our parents stopped giving me money after I became an adult, using all their money to support her instead. When I was working odd jobs everywhere to pay for tuition, she was living it up in Europe. I had to get back some of what I was owed. But no matter how much our parents spoiled her, they couldn’t give her the entire family fortune. Ten million—even if she could come up with it, it would cost her dearly. So she hesitated for a long time before asking cautiously: “You promise you’ll leave after taking the money?” “If you don’t trust me, forget it. I’ll go right now…” “Don’t… I’ll give it to you!” She made up her mind: “I’ll give it to you, but you have to promise never to appear in front of Matias again.” I agreed readily. After hanging up, my mood improved considerably. I removed all my makeup, put on a blouse and pencil skirt, and admired my figure in the mirror. Thinking about how Matias said I was imitating and seducing him, I was silent for a moment, then let out a soft laugh. I found it absurd, but I didn’t want to cause more trouble. I replaced the pearl earrings with sapphire ones, then dug a long trench coat out of the closet, covering my body’s curves completely, before heading out to work.

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The words from the flight coordinator hit me like a sudden loss of cabin pressure at forty thousand feet. They told me the jet belonged to a Mr. Tyler Corey. They suggested I leave. Immediately. Just moments ago, I had been the one holding all the cards, ready to humiliate the arrogant kid standing in front of me. I had even sent the ground crew to pull the ownership records, confident that the paper trail would crush him. He had been screaming, louder and more entitled by the second, claiming the plane was a gift from his wife just last month. He insisted he couldn’t possibly be mistaken. I tried to keep my voice level, explaining that this was Hangar 25. That this was my plane. That he must have the wrong address. Then a man in a sharp suit burst onto the deck, demanding to know who was touching his aircraft, shouting that this machine was worth more than all our lives combined. My private jet had been intercepted just as we were taxiing for takeoff. I was in a feverish rush to get to London; I had a ten-billion-dollar acquisition to finalize with the European royals. Everything was on the line. … “All systems go. Ready for departure,” the pilot’s voice crackled over the comms. “Wait! Sir, we have an emergency on the tarmac!” Just as we were about to throttle up, the ground crew signaled a hard stop. I signaled the flight attendant to crack the air-stair door. I needed to see what kind of circus was delaying my billion-dollar meeting. “What do I pay you people for? Thousands in hangar fees every month, and you let some random nobody board my plane? Am I throwing my money into a furnace?” Through the doorway, I saw a young man in a slim-fit Italian suit. He was red-faced, screaming at the hangar manager. Behind him stood a clique of wealthy-looking twenty-somethings, their eyes darting between him and the jet with a mix of mockery and boredom. The manager, looking like he was about to have a stroke, pointed up at me. “Sir… I—I really can’t be blamed. The registry only listed a ‘Mr. Miller.’ This gentleman showed up, said he was the owner, and since the name matched the initial check, I let him in.” The young man—Tyler—looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, swimming with a cocktail of expensive scotch and unearned confidence. He stormed up the stairs, roaring at us, “Who gave you permission to touch my jet? Don’t you know this thing is worth more than your damn lives?” My crew, a group I’d hand-picked from the best flight agencies, looked at me with growing unease. “Mr. Miller, what’s going on?” the pilot asked. I held up a hand, signaling them to stay calm. I took a long, slow look at the kid. He was handsome in that vapid, symmetrical way, but the stench of booze was unmistakable. I figured he was just some trust-fund brat who’d stumbled into the wrong hangar after a long brunch. Trying to be the adult in the room, I kept my voice low. “Look, kid. Take a breath. This is Hangar 25. This jet is mine. Check the hangar next door—maybe your ride is over there.” The moment I spoke, his friends started chirping from the tarmac. “Tyler, man, you told us we were flying private to the Hamptons. Is this it? Or is the ‘billionaire lifestyle’ just another one of your stories?” “Seriously, Ty. Your dad’s worth maybe ten million on a good day. You know what a Gulfstream G700 costs? You couldn’t afford the fuel, let alone the wings.” “Let’s just go. This is embarrassing.” Tyler’s face went from red to purple. He grabbed the hangar manager by the lapels, shaking him. “You were there! You saw it! My wife gave me this plane last month. Tell them! Tell them it’s mine!” The manager looked trapped. “I… I remember a gift ceremony, yes, but…” Tyler didn’t let him finish. He turned to his friends, his chest puffed out. “You hear that? It’s mine! I told you!” The atmosphere shifted instantly. The mockery turned into sycophancy. “God, Tyler, you really made it. A G700? You gotta let us in on the secret.” “I’m finally gonna see what it’s like to fly like a king. Drinks are on Tyler!” “Hey, does your wife have a sister? Or a mom? I’m looking for a sugar mama who drops nine figures on birthday gifts.” Basking in the glow of their worship, Tyler grew bolder. He shoved the manager aside. “I’m taking my friends to my wife’s birthday gala. Get these squatters off my plane. Now! If you ruin my schedule, I’ll have your job.” He looked so certain, so utterly convinced of his own lie, that for a split second, I actually doubted myself. Had I messed up the hangar number? I glanced at my assistant, Felix. He gave me a sharp nod. No mistake. This kid wasn’t just drunk; he was using my jet to play-act a life he didn’t own. And he was doing it while I had the most important meeting of my career waiting on the other side of the Atlantic. I stepped forward to end the charade, but the hangar manager beat me to it. He looked at me with a pained expression. “Sir, impersonating the owner of a private aircraft is a federal offense. I’m going to have to ask you to disembark before I call security.” “Are you insane?” I snapped. “You’re taking his word over mine?” “I bought this jet last year for a hundred million dollars. I had it customized in Savannah. You think ownership just changes because some kid with a hangover says so? Your airline is a joke.” The manager stammered, “But… you both said you were Mr. Miller. How am I supposed to—” “Because it’s my plane! It’s mine!” Tyler screamed, cutting him off. I felt the heat rising in my chest. “Listen to me, you little prick. Posing is one thing, but interfering with my travel? I will sue you into the next decade. Get off my plane. Now.” Tyler stepped into my personal space and shoved me. “I haven’t even started with you for trying to steal my jet, and you’re threatening me? You’ve got some balls, old man.” “Get your people and get out, or I’ll make sure you never walk again.” Felix stepped forward to intervene, but I held him back. I didn’t have time for a brawl. I needed a surgical strike. “Fine,” I said, my voice cold. “You say it’s yours? Tell me the tail number. Tell me the registration.” Only the owner or the primary operator would know the specific N-number off the top of my head. I stood back, waiting for him to trip over his own tongue. The crew and his friends all went silent, eyes fixed on Tyler. I waited for the silence to stretch, for the sweat to break on his brow. But it didn’t. “N9527B,” Tyler barked, his lip curling. “Gulfstream G700. Custom interior. Price tag: one hundred and four million dollars, taxes and delivery included. You want the engine specs too, or are you ready to fuck off now?” I froze. The world seemed to tilt. He didn’t just know the tail number; he knew the exact, down-to-the-cent price of the customizations. That was impossible. Every G700 has a base price, but the interior work is private, negotiated between the buyer and the manufacturer. My crew started whispering. The pilot walked over, his face pale. “Mr. Beaumont… is this true? Tell me we aren’t part of a hijacking. If this is a legal dispute, we could lose our licenses. We could go to prison.” “Sir,” the lead mechanic added, “I can’t sign off on this. The risk is too high. I’m out.” “Wait!” I shouted, trying to stop the bleeding. “I don’t know how he got that information, but I swear to you, this is my jet. Look—” I pulled out my phone, scrolling frantically to my archived emails with Gulfstream. “Look at the correspondence. Look at the design approvals!” The crew looked at the screen. They seemed to settle slightly, but the tension was still thick enough to choke on. “I’ve already sent Felix to the airline’s main office,” I told them. “They’re pulling the official deed of sale right now. When it gets here, I’m not just kicking this fraud off the plane—I’m handing him over to the feds.” The crew went back to their stations, though their eyes kept darting back to us. Tyler burst out laughing. “You’re a good actor, I’ll give you that. ‘Checking the records.’ You’re probably just sending your boy to find a back exit so you can bolt.” I ignored him, staring out the window, waiting for the proof. Tyler turned his venom on the crew. “You guys are morons. Can’t you see a thief when he’s standing right in front of you? He’s trying to steal my plane and take you down with him.” His friends joined in, emboldened. “Seriously, look at the guy. Does he look like he owns a G700? Tyler’s wearing Armani. He’s got a Daytona on his wrist. He’s a high-roller.” “Look at the other guy,” a girl sneered, pointing at my charcoal sweater. “His clothes don’t even have a logo. Probably picked that up at a thrift store. He couldn’t afford a toy plane, let alone this.” Felix couldn’t take it anymore. “You idiots,” he spat. “That sweater is vicuña wool from Loro Piana. It was custom-made in Italy and cost more than your cars. Just because there isn’t a giant ‘GAP’ logo on his chest doesn’t mean he’s poor. You wouldn’t know real wealth if it bit you.” The group turned red. The insult hit home. Tyler, desperate to regain his footing, pointed a finger at my chest. “I don’t care about his sweater. When the paperwork gets here and proves I’m the owner, you’re both getting on your knees and begging for my forgiveness. If you don’t, you aren’t leaving this hangar in one piece.” “We’ll see,” I said, my voice a whisper of dry ice. “We’ll see who’s kneeling.” Just then, a representative from the airline’s legal department hurried up the stairs, clutching a tablet. “You have the ownership file?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs. The man nodded solemnly. “I do.” I looked at Tyler and gave him a predatory smile. “Since it’s settled, get these trespassers off my jet.” I gestured toward Tyler and his entourage. But the official didn’t move. He looked at me with a strange, pitying expression. Then he spoke the words that shattered my world. “Mr. Beaumont, I’m going to have to ask you and your assistant to leave the aircraft immediately. The legal owner of this jet is, in fact, Mr. Tyler Corey.” The air left my lungs. “What? No. That’s impossible. I paid for it! I have the bank statements!” I grabbed the man by his lapels. “Look again! How could it be his?” The official stayed professional, though he winced. “Sir, our records are ironclad. There was a title transfer thirty days ago. The previous owner, Mrs. Isabella Beaumont, gifted the aircraft in its entirety to Mr. Corey.” Isabella. The name echoed in my head like a death knell. I remembered last year—our anniversary. I had put the jet in her name as a grand, romantic gesture, a symbol of my absolute trust. And she had handed the keys to her lover. The room spun. My knees buckled. If Felix and the official hadn’t caught me, I would have hit the floor. Tyler walked over, his face twisted into a mask of triumph. “Well, well. Looks like it’s my plane after all. Now… get on your knees and apologize.” “Apologize!” his friends chanted. “Down on your knees!” The thought of this man—this pathetic, drunken boy—touching my wife, living off my hard-earned fortune, made something snap inside me. The blood rushed to my head, hot and blinding. I wrenched myself free from Felix’s grip and lunged. My palm connected with Tyler’s face in a crack that echoed through the cabin. “Apologize to who? You son of a bitch! I’ll kill you!” His friends swarmed me. Fists and boots rained down. Felix tried to pull them off, but he was outnumbered and quickly beaten to the ground beside me. Tyler stepped over me, spitting blood. He kicked me hard in the ribs. “Stealing my plane and then hitting me? I’m going to enjoy breaking you.” He raised his foot for another strike when his phone rang. He paused, checking the screen. A sleazy grin spread across his face. “Hold up, boys. The lady of the house is calling.” He hit the speakerphone, preening for his audience. “Hey, baby,” a familiar, breathy voice came through the line. Isabella. “Where are you? I’ve been waiting. I’m lonely.” Tyler winked at his friends, who gave him silent thumbs-ups. “I’m on my way, babe. Just had to deal with a cockroach who thought he could steal your gift to me. He even tried to swing at me. I’m teaching him a lesson right now.” “Oh, my god! Who would dare touch you? Honey, hurt him. Make sure he never forgets it. But don’t be too long… I’m already at the hotel in Manhattan. I’ve got the champagne on ice and I’m waiting for you.” Tyler hung up, looking like he’d just won the lottery. His friends cheered. I lay on the floor, my body thrumming with a pain that went far deeper than broken ribs. My heart felt like it had been shredded. My wife. My Isabella. They dragged Felix and me to the door and literally threw us down the air-stairs. “Stay in the dirt where you belong, loser!” Tyler shouted from the top of the stairs as the door began to hiss shut. “If my wife wasn’t waiting for me, I’d spend all night kicking the life out of you!” I watched the jet—my jet—taxi away into the dusk. I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers and dialed my head of security. “I want you to buy up every available flight path between here and New York,” I croaked. “Now. I want a total lockdown. Do not let tail number N9527B land at any airport on the East Coast. If they try to touch down, I want them diverted. Clear the sky.”

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The darkness and the scent of aged pine. That is the last thing I remember of this world. That night, I woke up shivering from a nightmare, crying out for my mother. Instead of a hug, she ushered me into the velvet-lined darkness of her cello case and latched the lid. The signs had been there for a while, I suppose. It started on my fourth birthday. That was the first time she snapped—all because of the clatter of a stray toy hitting the hardwood floor. My mother was a celebrated musician. Her fingers could coax the most divine melodies from the strings, but that genius came with a price: she was hyper-sensitive to noise. Any sound that didn’t belong to her music was an intruder. There was no warning that night. No explanation. Outside the door, I heard my father’s voice, a low, hesitant plea. “Don’t scare her, honey. She’s just a child.” That was the tripwire. My mother spun around, her eyes locking onto mine. The softness I used to see there—the warmth of the woman who used to tuck me in—was gone. In its place was a cold, sharp-edged resentment. I was too young to understand. I sat there, small and trembling, thinking she was just having a bad day. I thought if I stayed very still, the “real” Mommy would come back. … The air inside the case grew heavy and hot. Every breath felt like trying to swallow wool. Through the thick wood, I could hear the muffled, haunting strains of her playing. She was practicing. I tried to scream for her, to tell her I couldn’t breathe, but the sound died in my throat, becoming nothing more than a pathetic whimper. Slowly, the roar of the blood in my ears drowned out the music. My heartbeat sounded like a drum, rhythmic and terrifyingly loud. And then, the panic began to fade. I didn’t feel like I was suffocating anymore; I felt light, like a balloon unmoored from its string. The piece she was playing… I recognized it. A lullaby. So gentle. So sweet. I felt sleepy. As my consciousness drifted, I looked down and saw my own body becoming translucent, a shimmer of mist against the velvet. I think… I’m actually dead. My mother’s voice finally drifted in, sharp enough to pierce the wood. “Finally! Some goddamn peace. All she does is cry—it’s like a drill in my skull.” “How many times do I have to tell her? No noise. She has zero discipline!” I heard the violent zip of a bow across strings, a harsh, discordant screech. My father’s voice sounded further away, laced with a weak, crumbling hesitation. “Evelyn, enough. You’ve made your point. Don’t let her suffocate in there.” “Suffocate?” Her voice spiked, dripping with disdain. “Don’t you dare play the ‘good cop’ now, David.” “A child this bratty needs to learn. One night in there won’t kill her. She needs to remember who runs this house. She needs to learn the value of silence.” My father went quiet. After a long beat, I heard the heavy, defeated sigh of a man who had long ago given up his soul. “Fine. Whatever you say. Leave her be. She’ll be begging for forgiveness by morning.” Even though I was dead, my soul remained anchored to that cramped, silent box. Narrow. Cold. I pressed my spectral cheek against my own cold face, pretending I was just deep in a dream. I stayed like that all night. Finally, when the gray morning light began to bleed through the cracks, my father came for me. “It’s morning,” he muttered, his voice gravelly. “Time to let the kid out.” “She’s probably terrified,” he added, almost to himself. “Bet she won’t be waking us up in the middle of the night again.” He rapped his knuckles against the lid, his tone shifting to that forced, ‘everything is fine’ cheerfulness. “Luna? You learned your lesson? Come on out, sweetheart. Daddy’s making hot chocolate.” A wave of grief washed over me. I screamed at him, thrashing my ghostly arms, desperate for him to see me. But he heard nothing. “Luna? Stop pouting. Get out here!” Still nothing. My mother walked past the door, a glass of water in her hand. She didn’t even look at the case. “Let her rot in there if she wants to play games. If she wants to stay in there forever, let her.” My father frowned, the first flicker of real unease crossing his face. He flipped the latches and swung the lid open. He reached in to grab my arm, but his hand recoiled when he felt the rigidity of my skin. He let out a sharp, annoyed huff. “Really? Still acting? You’re dedicated, I’ll give you that. Fine, stay stiff as a board. See who makes you breakfast.” I stood beside him, watching his impatience turn to a cold sort of boredom. I tried to sniffle, tried to wipe away tears that wouldn’t fall. I told myself he was just trying not to upset Mom. I told myself he still loved me. But for some reason, I really, really wanted that hot chocolate. I drifted toward the kitchen table, reaching for the steaming mug David had set down. SMASH. The mug hit the floor, shattered by my mother’s hand. White liquid splattered across the tile, mingling with jagged porcelain shards. My mother stared at the mess, her chest heaving with a sudden, inexplicable rage. “Hot chocolate? You’re actually pampering her? After what she did?” Her voice turned into a hiss. “A little stray you brought home from god-knows-where, and you treat her like royalty!” My father’s face went bone-white. He flicked a panicked look toward the hallway where my body lay, then lunged forward, grabbing her arm. His voice was a panicked whisper. “Shut up! Not so loud! We agreed—we never talk about that in front of her!” “What child? She’s a parasite! A mistake! If you hadn’t been so weak-willed as to adopt that…” She was screaming now, her eyes filled with a darkness I couldn’t name. But I knew she was angry. I floated toward her, reaching for her hand, wanting to soothe her, but my fingers passed through her like smoke. “Enough!” My father’s shout made me jump. The veins in his neck were bulging. “She is… she is our daughter! Not a mistake! Calm down, Evelyn!” “Our daughter?” A jagged, hysterical laugh broke from her throat as tears began to stream down her face. “What difference does it make? She isn’t mine! She isn’t my Luna! If my Luna were still here…” She suddenly collapsed, clutching her head and sobbing into her knees. My father exhaled, his body sagging with exhaustion. He knelt beside her, pulling her into a weary embrace, shushing her. “Okay, okay. We won’t talk about it. I know you miss her… I know…” I stood there, frozen in the center of the kitchen. I wasn’t their daughter? Why did she call me a mistake? Was there… was there another Luna? I looked at the milk spreading across the floor. I remembered yesterday morning, the way the mug felt warm in my palms when Dad handed it to me. Now, that warmth was gone. Everything was cold. My father carried my body from the hallway and laid me on the living room sofa. “Luna, stop this,” he said quietly, his voice pleading now. “Don’t fight your mother. You know she’s… she’s not well.” He waited for a response. He waited for a blink, a breath, a twitch. When nothing happened, he let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. “Fine. Just keep making things difficult. God, can I have just one day of peace in this house?” I watched him lead my mother back to the bedroom. My heart—or whatever was left of it—ached. It hadn’t always been like this. I remembered a time when Dad didn’t frown at me. He used to spin me around in the air, laughing, calling me his “little shadow.” And Mom… Mom used to sit me on her lap and guide my tiny fingers over the strings. When I managed to scratch out a few coherent notes, she would beam with pride. “That’s my girl,” she’d whisper. “A natural. Just like her mother.” When did the music turn into noise? The silence didn’t last. A few minutes later, the bright, fluttering notes of Chopin’s Minute Waltz drifted from the music room. In the past, whenever she played that, I would run into the room barefoot, dancing and twirling until I was dizzy. Dad would always pick me up and laugh. “Look, the music called our little puppy home.” I floated into the music room now. I sat at her feet, just like I used to, resting my head against her knee as she played. My father appeared in the doorway. He lit a cigarette, his gaze drifting toward the sofa in the other room. “Hmph. Usually, she’s up and dancing by the second bar. She’s really committed to this tantrum today.” The song ended. On the sofa, my small, pale body remained curled in that awkward, unnatural position. My father crushed his cigarette and walked over. “Luna, your favorite show is on. If you don’t get up now, you’re going to miss the magical pony marathon.” Usually, that was his secret weapon. Even when I was pouting, I’d crack one eye open. I remembered when I had that fever—I couldn’t eat, couldn’t move—but he had sat with me in front of the TV for hours, letting me sleep against his chest. But now, the girl on the sofa didn’t stir. Not even a flicker of an eyelid. I crouched beside my body, frantic, trying to scream, trying to push myself back into my own skin. But I was just air. A shadow fell over me. My mother. She looked down at the body with a curled lip. She reached out and shoved my shoulder. “Enough with the drama. You’ve had your fun. Get up.” When I didn’t move, she grabbed my arm, trying to force it straight. But the rigor mortis had set in; I was as stiff as the wood of her cello. She hissed a curse under her breath. “Fine! Stay like that then. See who cares!” As she turned and walked away without a second glance, a memory hit me. I remembered learning to walk. I was always falling, skinning my knees. I’d sit on the floor and wait for her to come get me. She wouldn’t do it immediately—she’d stand a few feet away, encouraging me, telling me I was strong. But the moment I really started to cry, she’d scoop me up. She’d rock me and whisper, “Mommy’s here. Don’t be scared, Luna.” I tried to blink away the dryness in my ghostly eyes. I felt myself becoming thinner, more transparent, as if a stiff breeze could blow me away. Mom, I’m so cold. Why won’t you just hold me and tell me not to be scared? Then, the cat—a fat ginger tabby named Marmalade—crept out from under the sideboard. He usually loved sleeping on my lap, purring like a little engine. He trotted over to the sofa, heading for my dangling hand. But the moment his nose brushed my icy, rigid fingertips, his back arched into a terrified peak. He let out a low, guttural hiss and bolted under the sofa, his fur standing on end. My father called for him, but Marmalade wouldn’t budge. Mother came back into the room for more water. Seeing the cat’s reaction, she slammed her glass onto the table. “Even the damn cat is losing its mind! This house is a madhouse!” She threw a disgusted look at me. “Look at her, sitting there like a corpse. I must have been a monster in a past life to deserve a child like this.” My father opened his mouth to say something—maybe to defend me, maybe to agree—but he just rubbed his face and lit another cigarette. The smoke swirled, obscuring his features. He stopped looking at me altogether, staring out the window at the bright afternoon sun. The light was beautiful, but it couldn’t reach the girl on the sofa. The rest of the day passed in a blur of neglect. Neither of them looked at me again. By nightfall, my father’s patience snapped. He marched over, scooped my rigid body up, and tucked me under his arm like a piece of lumber. I floated beside him, watching. His arms used to be my sanctuary. When it thundered, I’d hide in his lap, and he’d hum off-key songs until I fell asleep to the steady thrum of his heart. His hug was the warmest thing in the world. Now, I felt nothing. He walked fast, fueled by a simmering, repressed rage. He kicked open my bedroom door and tossed me onto the small bed. The mattress jolted, then went still. He stood over me, his chest heaving. “Luna! This is enough! You hear me? You’ve gone too far!” “I guess we spoiled you too much. Fine. You want to play dead? Stay in here. Let’s see who breaks first!” I reached for his hand, but he turned away, slamming the door. Bang. The room went pitch black. Dad, how could you forget? I’m afraid of the dark. He used to leave the door cracked just an inch, a sliver of warm hallway light acting as a nightlight. “Don’t be scared,” he’d say. “I’m right outside.” But now, I was terrifyingly alone. I curled into a ball at the head of the bed, my ghostly form shivering. The moonlight was a sickly pale color, casting a ghoulish glow over the blue-white skin of the girl on the bed. A long time later, I heard light footsteps. Soft. Hesitant. It was Mom. She stopped at the door but didn’t come in. I floated over and saw her hand trembling as she pushed the door open just a crack to peek inside. In the moonlight, she saw it—the unnatural angle of my limbs, the hollow stillness of my chest, the lifeless pallor of my face. She gasped, her eyes wide with a sudden, sharp terror. She slammed the door shut and ran back to her bedroom. I heard my father ask, “Well? Is she done pouting?” I waited for her to tell him. I waited for her to realize. But she just forced a cold, brittle laugh. “Pouting? She’s just waiting for us to cave. She knows exactly how to manipulate us. It’s a game, David.” “Go to sleep,” she snapped when he tried to argue. “By morning, she’ll be so hungry she’ll come crawling out.” The house fell silent again. I drifted back to my bedside. I looked at the girl who would never wake up. The moonlight caught a small bruise on my temple—a souvenir from when Mom had shoved me into the case the night before. Mom, Dad… I wish I could tell you. I’m not playing this time. I won’t be hungry anymore. I won’t be noisy. I won’t ever make you angry again. You can finally have your peace. At the first light of dawn, my father threw the door open. His voice was sharp, impatient. “Luna! Enough! Get up and get dressed for school!” Silence. Only the heavy, oppressive stillness of the room greeted him. He strode to the bed and shoved my shoulder. “Did you hear me?” His palm hit my skin. No warmth. Only the terrifying, unyielding cold of stone. His hand froze. Slowly, his fingers moved to my nose. There was no breath. Not even a whisper of air. “No… no, that’s not…” He scrambled, his fingers fumbling for a pulse at my neck, pressing into my chest. Nothing. Just a hollow, frozen silence. A strangled, horrific cry escaped his throat as he collapsed onto the floor. My mother, startled by the noise, ran in wearing her silk robe. “What is it now? What kind of stunt is she pulling?” Her eyes followed his gaze to the bed. The words died in her throat. “…She’s… she’s dead…” My mother froze. Her pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “What are you talking about? Who’s dead?” My father looked at her, his lips trembling, his eyes filled with a raw, soul-shattering horror. “Luna… Luna is gone.”

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To my husband, Pierce, I was nothing more than a parasite. A tick burrowed into his designer suits, draining his wealth to subsidize what he called my “low-life” family. To “curb my greed,” he’d restricted me to a humiliating twenty-dollar weekly allowance for the entire household. Then I was kidnapped. The ransom was a million dollars. When the kidnappers called him, his first reaction wasn’t fear—it was relief. He laughed, telling them I was a useless gold-digger and that they were welcome to do whatever they wanted with me. He wouldn’t spend a dime to bring me back. My father, already frail and battling late-stage illness, went to Pierce’s glass-tower office and literally fell to his knees. He sobbed, begging Pierce to save his only daughter. He swore that if Pierce paid the ransom, he would disappear forever; he’d never call, never visit, never be a “burden” again. Pierce just looked down at him with cold, bored eyes. He said his money was hard-earned and he wouldn’t let me “squander” it on a staged disappearance. To save me, my father—sick as he was—went to a series of shady, back-alley clinics. He sold his blood, his plasma, over and over. He even found a way to sell a kidney on the black market. He got me out, but the cost was his life. He died of sheer physical exhaustion shortly after I was released. His last words were an apology. He told me he was sorry he was so useless, sorry he couldn’t give me the life I deserved. I was shaking, dialing Pierce’s number to scream at him, to demand how he could let this happen, when a notification popped up on my phone. It was an Instagram post from his “executive assistant,” Lexie. While my father was selling his organs to save me, Pierce had bought Lexie’s brother a five-million-dollar estate in the Hamptons, complete with a Rolls-Royce Phantom in the driveway. He’d moved Lexie’s parents into a penthouse and hired a staff of eight to wait on them hand and foot. Even Lexie’s French bulldog was wearing a custom Tiffany gold chain around its neck. I had been tortured for two weeks. My body was a map of bruises and cigarette burns. When the ransom was finally paid, my father had picked me up and carried me on his back, just like he used to when I was a little girl. He couldn’t afford a taxi, let alone an ambulance. He carried me all the way to the county hospital. I was drifting in and out of consciousness, my limbs heavy as lead. Through the haze, I heard a snippet of his conversation with the intake nurse. “The admission deposit is five hundred dollars.” 1 Only five hundred. A drop in the bucket for a man like Pierce. But for my father, it was an impossible sum. I wanted to tell him to let me go, to stop fighting, but my throat was a desert. I couldn’t make a sound. I slipped into a coma for three days. When I woke up, the first thing the nurse told me was that my father was gone. He had died right there, sitting in the plastic chair next to my bed. He had watched over me all night, and his heart simply gave out. They found him in the morning, cold. Because there was no one to claim him immediately, they had moved him to the basement morgue. He died alone. In a chair. In a hallway. I screamed until I lost my voice in that morgue, but he was never going to answer me again. To afford a basic cremation and a service, I had to swallow my pride and call everyone I’d ever known to beg for loans. At the wake, the small, rented room was filled with “concerned” relatives who were really just there for the spectacle. Their whispers cut through the air like serrated knives. “Can you believe a billionaire’s father-in-law lived in a dump like this? No windows, smells like mold. Pathetic.” “I heard Pierce would rather hire eight maids for his mistress than pay a cent to save this girl. Imagine being such a failure of a wife.” I sat there, my fists clenched so hard my nails drew blood. “The old loser raised a young loser,” another whispered. “They can’t even afford a hearse. Had to beg us for gas money. It’s bad luck just being here.” I didn’t say a word. I helped the funeral director slide the plain wooden casket into the van myself. At the crematorium, as I watched the furnace doors close, my phone began to vibrate incessantly. It was Pierce. “Natalie, what the hell is wrong with you?” his voice boomed the moment I answered. “Do you have to be so pathetic? Why are you leaving disgusting comments on Lexie’s Instagram?” The tears I’d been holding back finally broke. I hadn’t slept in days. I was a ghost of a person. My voice came out as a ragged rasp. “Does a home-wrecker even have the capacity to feel ‘disgusted’?” “How dare you!” Pierce shouted. “Lexie is a sweet, innocent girl, and you’re out here spreading rumors like a jealous bitch. If you say one more word to her, I swear I’ll make you regret it.” I let out a hollow, bitter laugh. Pierce had let me rot in a basement for two weeks because Lexie told him the kidnapping sounded “theatrical.” I knew exactly what he was capable of. “Delete the comment, Natalie. Now,” he threatened. “Or I’m cutting off the lease on that rat-hole your father lives in. I’ll let him rot on the street.” At the mention of my father, a white-hot rage ignited in my chest. Pierce seemed to have forgotten that five years ago, when he fell through the ice on a frozen lake during a hiking trip, it was my father who dove in to pull him out. My father had suffered from chronic, agonizing rheumatism ever since that day. Every night, he used to lie awake in pain. Once, I asked Pierce for money to buy him better painkillers. Pierce had thrown a fit. “He’s just being dramatic because he’s old! Tell him to toughen up. I’m not throwing money away on his ‘aches’.” And yet, when Lexie sneezed, Pierce flew in specialists from across the country. After that, my father never complained to me again. He didn’t want me to get yelled at. He took a job hauling bricks on a construction site just so he wouldn’t have to ask for a dime. Every time I visited, he’d sneak a crumpled twenty into my purse and tell me to buy myself a nice dinner, while he sat there eating plain white rice and pickled radishes. I had tried to tell Pierce once, hoping for a shred of humanity. He’d been feeding Wagyu beef to Lexie’s dog at the time. He just sneered. “At least your dad has some dignity, unlike you—a leech who thinks my bank account is an all-you-can-eat buffet. Don’t even think about asking me to bail him out. Your whole family is parasitic.” The “allowance” he gave me was twenty dollars a week. My father hadn’t spent a cent of it. He’d kept it all in a small tin box for me. There was a note inside: “Nora, I’m so sorry I wasn’t successful enough to give you the life you deserve…” I found out later, from the security footage at Pierce’s office, that my father had knelt at the entrance for three days and nights. He’d literally cracked his forehead open bowing to the pavement, begging for the ransom. When that failed, he went to the blood banks. Bag after bag. Then the kidney. While I was holding my father’s cold body, the top trending story on Twitter was Pierce spending ten million dollars on a private estate for Lexie. I sobbed into the phone, my voice breaking. “Go to hell, Pierce! You aren’t even fit to speak his name!” I hung up and collapsed onto the cold tile floor of the funeral home, clutching my chest as the world went black. 2 On the TV in the waiting area, Lexie’s face was everywhere. Two funeral home employees were gossiping while staring at the screen. “Who is she? I’ve never seen a socialite get this much airtime. The CEO of Thorne Industries bought out every local network for this.” “That’s Lexie Vance. She’s the boss’s ‘favorite.’ He didn’t just buy the networks; he rented a fleet of yachts just to celebrate her dog’s birthday.” My father was Pierce’s family. And yet he was treated worse than a stray. I’d had to hock my wedding ring just to pay for his cremation. My phone buzzed with a calendar alert. It was my father’s birthday. But I didn’t have a father anymore. The pain was physical, like a jagged blade twisting in my gut. I stood up, dizzy, and walked to the front desk. “Can you print something for me?” I asked. The clerk nodded. “Of course. What do you need?” I gripped the small wooden urn in my arms until my knuckles turned white. “Divorce papers.” This farce of a marriage had to end. Once the papers were in my hand, I took a car to the waterfront. The entire pier was lined with life-sized cutouts of Lexie and her dog. Pierce had invited half the city to this “birthday party,” sparing no expense. Crowds were gathered, catching red envelopes stuffed with cash being dropped from drones. “Mr. Thorne is insane!” someone yelled. “You get five hundred bucks just for saying ‘Happy Birthday’ to a dog!” “Five hundred? If Lexie wanted five hundred million, he wouldn’t even blink. Look, the fireworks are starting!” The sky exploded in a choreographed display of light and sound. A young couple stood near me, the girl swooning. “I read that he personally interviewed the design team for this. He told them: ‘Cost is no object. Just make her smile.’ She’s just an intern, and she found her Prince Charming. It’s like a fairytale.” For five years, the phrase Pierce said to me most was: “Natalie, you were never in my league. You should be grateful I even look at you.” He chose to forget that I was the one who lived in a cramped studio with him when he was starting his firm. I was the one who worked three jobs to pay our rent while he built his empire. He had promised me then: “Nora, I’m going to marry you, and I’m going to make sure you and your dad never want for anything again.” He kept those promises. He just kept them for Lexie. They had the mansions, the cars, the gourmet meals, the 24-hour staff. I was the one who got screamed at for buying an extra head of lettuce. Toward the end, he demanded receipts for every grocery run, terrified I was “stealing” a few cents from him. And when I was kidnapped, he was convinced it was a scam. A ploy to get more of “his” money. The fireworks continued to roar. I looked at the sky and felt nothing but a cold, dead emptiness. This party probably cost more than the million dollars that would have kept my father alive. Just then, a small French bulldog with a gold collar trotted toward me. Lexie’s dog. 3 The dog barked at me, then, without warning, lifted its leg and peed on my shoe. A woman in a silk dress and a young man in a tailored suit walked over. The woman glared at me like I was trash she’d found on the sidewalk. “What are you staring at? Clean that up! My ‘Grand-baby’ is the star of the show tonight. If he’s late for his entrance because of you, my son-in-law will have your head!” The young man sneered. “Seriously. Where did Pierce find a maid this pathetic? You look like you crawled out of a gutter.” I recognized them from Lexie’s Instagram. Her mother and her brother, Hunter. The “son-in-law” they were claiming was my husband. “I’m Pierce’s wife,” I said, my voice cold. “Not his maid. And I’m not cleaning up after a dog.” They both burst into mocking laughter. “Oh, look, another delusional fan-girl,” Hunter laughed. “You’re a bit old to be roleplaying as Pierce’s wife, don’t you think? Get lost, Grandma. Go on, Little Darling—get her!” The dog lunged. Instinctively, I kicked out to push it away. It tumbled over and started yelping. Lexie appeared out of the crowd like a heat-seeking missile, scooping up the dog and sobbing into Pierce’s chest as he followed close behind. “Natalie! You can hate me all you want, but how could you hurt a poor, helpless animal?” Pierce’s eyes turned murderous. “Natalie! You have the nerve to show up here and cause a scene? Apologize to Lexie right now!” Lexie had stepped on my foot with her stiletto when she ran over—I could feel the blood soaking into my sock—but Pierce didn’t care. He only saw her tears. “Do it,” Pierce hissed. “Or I’m cutting you off completely. You want your loser father to starve? Because that’s where this is going.” He didn’t even know. My father had been dead for days, and he hadn’t even bothered to check. I stared at him, my eyes burning with a hatred so pure it felt like ice. “Don’t you dare mention my father.” Lexie saw an opening. “Oh, Natalie’s so ‘tough’ now. I guess she thinks she can take care of her dad herself. Though, after being with those kidnappers for two weeks… I’m sure you’re ‘broken in’ by now. You could probably make some money on a street corner, but I doubt you’d fetch much.” The guests around us erupted in laughter. A couple of middle-aged men in expensive suits whistled at me. “Pierce is a saint for keeping you,” one of them shouted. “If my wife came back after two weeks with a gang, I’d throw her out with the trash!” Pierce didn’t stop them. He actually looked amused. “Hear that, Natalie? I’ve been more than patient. Apologize, then get your ass home.” I looked at this man—this stranger I had once loved—and felt the last remaining shard of my heart turn to dust. When I didn’t move, Pierce reached out to grab my arm to drag me away. He shoved me, harder than he intended. I fell, my skirt riding up to reveal the horrific bruises and cigarette burns on my thighs from the kidnapping. The crowd gasped, leaning in to gawk at my trauma like it was an exhibit. Lexie smirked, covering her mouth in mock horror. “Wow, Natalie. You and those kidnappers really went at it, huh? Like I said—used goods. Maybe you can sell blood like your dad.” I looked at Pierce, my vision blurring. “You’re letting them do this? After everything you promised us?” Pierce laughed, pulling out his phone. “You think your dad is some hero? He was a pathetic dog. You want to see how much he ‘loved’ you? Watch this.” He hit play on a video. In the grainy footage, my father was on all fours in a parking lot. He was barking. He was crawling like a dog. Pierce’s voice was in the background, laughing, throwing ten-dollar bills at him. “Do it louder, old man! Maybe I’ll give you a hundred if you wag your tail!” My father—the proudest, most hardworking man I knew—had debased himself like an animal just to try and get a few dollars to save me. The world tilted. “Pierce… he saved your life. He dove into a frozen lake for you.” “He did it because he wanted a payout,” Pierce snapped. “I built this life myself. I don’t owe you or that old drunk anything. Stop trying to cash in on a favor from a decade ago.” I tried to grab the phone, but Pierce shoved me down again. “You want to see him bark again, Natalie? You haven’t learned your lesson yet. Maybe I should have let those guys keep you a little longer to teach you some manners.” The blood drained from my face. “You… you knew.” Pierce didn’t even flinch. “I set it up. It was supposed to be a ‘scare’ to stop you from asking for more money. I didn’t think the idiots would actually touch you, but hey, it worked, didn’t it? And I guess your dad actually found the million after all.” I stared at him, my mind blank with shock. The kidnapping was a lesson? My father’s death was just a “game” that went too far? This ten-million-dollar party… a tenth of this would have saved him. And I was holding my father’s ashes in a wooden box because I couldn’t afford a real urn. 4 Lexie reached down and snatched the wooden box that had fallen from my bag. “What’s this? Some more cheap junk?” I scrambled on my hands and knees to get it back. “Give it to me! Give it back!” Lexie kicked me away with her heel. “You hurt my dog, Natalie. You owe us a tribute.” She flipped the lid open. The wind off the river was strong. Before I could reach her, the grey-white ashes billowed out like a cloud of dust, swirling into the dark water of the harbor. “No! No! Please!” I lunged, trying to catch the dust with my bare hands, but it was gone. Half of him, swept away into the sewage and salt. Lexie wrinkled her nose. “Ugh! It’s just a box of flour? Natalie, you are so weird. You brought a box of baking supplies to a gala?” She tossed the box toward her dog. The dog trotted over, sniffing at the remaining ashes. I screamed, trying to crawl toward it, but Pierce stepped in my way and kicked me back down. “Still trying to kick the dog?” he growled. Encouraged by Pierce, the dog lifted its leg and peed directly into the box, soaking the remains of my father. Lexie giggled. “See? Even Little Darling knows your ‘gifts’ are trash.” I didn’t argue. I didn’t scream. I just gathered the box into my arms, desperately trying to scrape the untainted ashes into a small pile with my fingernails. Pierce groaned. “Natalie, enough with the melodrama. It’s a box of flour. Stop embarrassing me and get out.” I looked up at him, tears streaming down my face. “It’s not flour, Pierce. It’s my father. These are his ashes.” The silence lasted for a second before Pierce erupted in laughter. “That old leech? He’s too stubborn to die. Nice try, though. You almost had me.” I just sobbed. The kind of sob that tears your throat open. “Stop it,” Pierce snapped, his annoyance returning. “I’m not falling for it. You should be on your knees apologizing to the dog. You’re lucky I’m letting you go home.” At that moment, the woman I was—the woman who had loved him, supported him, and endured him—simply ceased to exist. I looked him in the eye. “I want a divorce.” Pierce froze. He knew how much I had clung to him, how much I had tolerated just to keep my “family” together. “You’re joking,” he said, though his voice wavered. “You have nothing. No career, no money, no one. You wouldn’t survive a week without me. Who else would want a piece of ‘used goods’ like you?”

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The patriarch of the Blackwood empire had issued a decree that sounded like something out of a medieval legend: the first person to provide the family with a male heir would be handed the keys to the entire dynasty. Pierce Blackwood, the sole heir of the ninth generation, was the natural choice to fulfill this legacy. But Pierce was hopelessly in love with Tinsley, my so-called best friend, who was a fierce advocate for the child-free lifestyle. To prove his devotion to her, Pierce had sworn a vow of celibacy to any woman who wasn’t her, and a vow of childlessness to her. To Tinsley, motherhood was a form of patriarchal oppression, a way of objectifying and shaming women. She’d staged dramatic scenes, weeping and threatening to end it all, questioning Pierce: “Do you love me, or do you just want a walking womb?” In that deadlock, I didn’t see a tragedy. I saw the dawn of a new life. We were talking about a multi-billion-dollar fortune—the kind of wealth that doesn’t just change lives, it rewrites history. Since she was so eager to throw the opportunity away, I decided I’d catch it. I waited. I watched. And eventually, I took what she discarded. I salvaged a used contraceptive from their trash, a desperate, clinical theft, and used it to conceive Pierce’s child. I didn’t do it for love. I did it for the bounty. … I stared at the two pink lines on the plastic stick. My heart wasn’t racing with joy; it was thrumming with the cold rhythm of a successful business transaction. I dialed the number the Blackwoods had left for “emergencies.” They didn’t waste time. They didn’t take me to the sprawling Blackwood estate, either. Instead, I was whisked away to a private medical facility that felt more like a laboratory than a hospital. After confirming I was eight weeks pregnant, I was hoisted onto a gurney. A man in a sharp suit—Pierce’s father’s assistant—informed me of the protocol. “We need a prenatal paternity test,” he said, his voice as dry as parchment. “Then we’ll decide if there’s anything further to discuss.” Maybe I had a lingering shred of romantic delusion left in me, but when the needle pierced my abdomen to draw the sample, cold and merciless, it vanished. I realized exactly what I was in that room: a biological asset. The indifference surrounding me was so absolute that I didn’t dare let out a whimper, no matter how much it hurt. After the procedure, I sat in a sterile waiting room for hours, adrift in the silence. Finally, the assistant returned. For the first time, he looked at me as if I were a human being. “Follow me.” We drove toward the outskirts of the city, pulling up to a secluded, modernist villa. Inside, the air smelled of expensive lilies and old money. A woman sat on a velvet sofa, perfectly manicured and terrifyingly composed. Catherine Blackwood, Pierce’s mother, looked up at me. “You’re a friend of my son’s fiancée,” she stated. “How did this happen?” I couldn’t tell her the truth. I leaned into the lie I’d prepared. “Pierce… he kept me on the side for a while. A lapse in judgment.” “At least you’re candid,” Catherine said, a faint, mocking smile touching her lips. “Let’s be clear about the terms. When you’re further along, we’ll do a high-resolution scan.” Her eyes dropped to my still-flat stomach. “If it’s a girl, we’ll give you a house and a generous settlement. You will disappear from our lives forever. If it’s a boy, the child will be brought into the Blackwood fold. He will have full inheritance rights. And you… well, you will be the mother of the heir. Your status will be secure.” I kept my voice steady. “I understand.” Catherine seemed satisfied with my lack of sentimentality. Her tone softened, just a fraction. “Until this is settled, keep your mouth shut. Don’t say a word to anyone. If you do—” She didn’t finish the sentence. She just tilted her chin. The meeting ended as quickly as it began. The assistant drove me back to my cramped apartment. I walked through the door, clutching the first-class ticket to my new life in my hand. Then I saw her. Tinsley was sitting on my bed. She was twirling my positive pregnancy test between her fingers. My stomach dropped. Tinsley laughed, a light, careless sound. “No wonder you haven’t been answering my texts lately. I thought you were the ‘good girl,’ Mara. Who knew you were out here getting knocked up?” My heart hammered against my ribs. She’d been with Pierce for years—would she recognize the assistant? Did she know where I’d been? When I didn’t speak, her expression turned into one of pure condescension. “The guy who dropped you off… he looked old enough to be your father. God, Mara, you really aren’t picky, are you?” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “He’s older,” I lied. “But he treats me well.” She glanced out the window toward the retreating black sedan. “Well, the car looked decent. You should be grateful a guy like that even looked at you. So, when’s the wedding?” I leaned into the role of the fallen woman. “His parents want me to have the baby first. To make sure.” Tinsley actually snorted. “Jesus. You agreed to that? If you wanted to play the field, you should have just told me. I could have introduced you to some actual ballers.” She looked at me, waiting for a flare of temper, a spark of shame. When I gave her nothing but a dull nod, she got bored. She tossed the pregnancy test into the trash and walked out. I watched her go. For years, I had been the “best friend” who was really just a glorified maid. She loved dragging me to parties where she dressed like a princess and forced me into clothes her grandmother wouldn’t wear. She’d tell everyone how “close” we were, implying I’d starve without her charity. Whenever some creep at a bar wouldn’t leave her alone, she’d push me toward him. “This is my bestie, Mara,” she’d say with a saccharine smile. “She’s a real firecracker. Have fun, guys!” They say it’s a kindness not to chew loudly in front of a starving person. Tinsley didn’t just chew; she smacked her lips and asked me if I was hungry while she ate. I bent down and fished the pregnancy test out of the trash. I gripped it until my knuckles turned white. I was hungry. I was starving. And since she insisted on flaunting her feast in my face, I was going to take the whole plate. I spent the next few days obsessing over prenatal vitamins and pregnancy books. I needed this child to be perfect. But the peace didn’t last. Tinsley called me, her voice buzzing with manic energy. “Mara! Get dressed. We’re going out!” “I don’t feel well, Tinsley—” “Did you see my Instagram? I already booked the table. Everyone’s coming! We’re celebrating your ‘surprise’! You can’t bail!” I opened my phone and felt the blood drain from my face. She had posted a photo of my pregnancy test. The caption: HUGE congrats to my bestie Mara on her unwed pregnancy! Who’s the lucky mystery daddy?? The comments were a bloodbath. “Always the quiet ones.” “Some poor guy is about to get trapped.” “Does she even know whose it is?” Local socialites and Pierce’s friends were all over the thread. I closed my eyes, Catherine Blackwood’s warning echoing in my head. I didn’t know if the Blackwoods were watching me, or if they’d already seen the post. If I didn’t go, the rumors would only get worse. I had to go. When I walked into the VIP lounge at the club, every eye slid to my midsection. “The guest of honor is here!” someone shouted. Tinsley ran up and looped her arm through mine. I noticed she had some scrapes on her arm. Pierce, standing behind her, looked even worse—bandaged and bruised. “What happened to you guys?” I asked, playing the part of the concerned friend. Tinsley leaned in close, smelling of expensive gin. “We went racing the other night. Flipped the car. Totaled it! We’ve been MIA recovering, otherwise, I would have thrown this party sooner. I mean, pregnant and no ring? It’s so avant-garde, Mara. I had to celebrate your bravery!” The room erupted in laughter. One girl, looking genuinely concerned, whispered to me, “Mara, what if he doesn’t marry you? You’re vulnerable right now. Are you sure about this?” Before I could answer, Tinsley slammed her glass onto the table. “Oh, stop it! Are you guys jealous? Mara knows her situation.” She turned back to the room, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “I mean, look at her options. Finding someone willing to let her carry their kid is probably the best she can do. She’s not like me. Pierce loves me for me. He respects my body. He’s even willing to go against his whole family just to make sure I never have to suffer through a pregnancy.” She leaned against Pierce, her voice dropping to a purr. “Right, babe?” Pierce didn’t say a word. He just reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear with a look of pure, pathetic adoration. I was just a prop in their twisted little play. Tinsley looked at me, her smile sharpening. “Don’t be too jealous, Mara. It’s just how the world works. There are levels to this life.” I nodded slowly. “You’re right, Tinsley. There are.” But in a few months, I wondered who would be looking down at whom. Two months passed. I stayed under the radar, ignoring Tinsley’s texts. At four months, my stomach had begun to curve into a gentle swell. The black sedan appeared at my curb again. I knew today was the day my fate would be sealed. I was brought back to the Blackwood estate. This time, the whole council was there: the CEO, Catherine, and the patriarch, Charles. I was led into a private medical suite within the house. The doctor was calibrating the ultrasound machine. I took a deep breath and lay down. I had done everything I could. The rest was up to the universe. The cold gel hit my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to look at the screen or Catherine’s face. All I could hear was the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of the heart and the hum of the machine. After what felt like an eternity, the doctor spoke. “Mrs. Blackwood, congratulations. It’s a boy.” I covered my mouth, tears pricking my eyes. I had one foot inside the golden door. When we returned to the living room, the atmosphere had shifted. The air was no longer thick with suspicion. “You’ve done well,” Catherine said, her voice almost warm. “From now on, you’ll be moved to a private residence. Everything will be provided for. Your only job is to bring this boy into the world safely.” “Thank you, Mrs. Blackwood,” I whispered. The words had barely left my lips when the front door burst open. “Dad! Mom! Grandfather! You have to stop hounding Tinsley! Enough is enough!” I froze. Pierce stormed into the room, with Tinsley trailing behind him like a shadow. Their eyes landed on me instantly. Tinsley’s jaw dropped. “Mara? What the hell are you doing here?” My throat went dry. I couldn’t find my voice. Charles Blackwood, the grandfather, spoke with the weight of a mountain. “I’ll tell you why she’s here, Pierce. She is carrying the Blackwood heir.” Pierce went ghost-white. “That’s impossible! I’ve never touched her! How could she be carrying my child?” Tinsley’s face twisted with a sudden, ugly fury. “Pierce? You cheated on me? With her?” Catherine frowned. “Pierce, don’t be absurd. You were seeing her on the side. We checked her story. If you’ve had a relationship, a pregnancy isn’t a miracle.” “Mom! What are you talking about?” Pierce screamed. “I never kept her! I never touched her! Ask anyone!” The floor felt like it was falling away. My lie was disintegrating. I did the only thing I could: I dropped to my knees. “Mrs. Blackwood, I’m so sorry!” I pressed my forehead to the cool floor, my voice trembling but clear. “I lied. Pierce… Pierce never kept me. We were never together like that.” The room went silent. Pierce’s father growled, “Then whose child is it?” I gripped the carpet, my head still down. “It is Pierce’s child. But it wasn’t… it wasn’t a normal encounter. I stole a used condom from their house. I was desperate. I wanted a way out of my life.” The silence that followed was deafening. Pierce looked like he’d been struck by lightning. Tinsley let out a primal scream of betrayal. “You bitch! You’ve been playing me this whole time? All those years of being my ‘friend,’ and you were just waiting to do something this disgusting? You’re a freak! You should be dead!” She lunged at me, grabbing a heavy crystal vase from a side table, ready to shatter it over my skull. “That’s enough,” Catherine snapped. Two security guards stepped forward instantly, pinning Tinsley’s arms back. She thrashed, screaming, “Catherine! You’re protecting this trash? She stole his DNA!” I stayed on the floor, weeping quietly. “I know it’s revolting. I know I don’t deserve the Blackwood name. I’ll go. I’ll have the baby and I’ll give him to you and disappear. I just want my son to have a life. Don’t punish him for my sins.” The room was suffocatingly quiet. Even Catherine seemed stunned by the sheer audacity of my plan. Charles Blackwood tapped his cane on the floor. “The situation is what it is,” he said, looking at Pierce. “You have two choices. Either I bypass you entirely and leave the estate to the boy in Mara’s womb, or you and Tinsley provide an heir of your own. You want to be child-free? Fine. But the Blackwood legacy will not end with a branch that refuses to grow.” Pierce looked like he’d been gutted. “Or,” the old man continued, “you marry Tinsley and produce a child. We’ve always preferred her family pedigree anyway. But if you don’t…” Pierce tried to argue, but the words died in his throat. He had always assumed his grandfather was bluffing. He thought if he just held out, they’d eventually cave. He thought his love for Tinsley was an immovable object. But now, a girl he’d never even noticed had moved the world from under him. He looked at Tinsley, his eyes pleading. “Tinsley… babe… we’ve been together forever. I’ve never asked you for anything you didn’t want to do. But this time… please. Help me.” Tinsley didn’t answer right away. She knew her “independent woman” lifestyle was funded entirely by the Blackwood name. If Pierce was cut off, her designer life was over. But the thought of pregnancy… “I… I can’t,” she whispered. Pierce grabbed her shoulders, his voice desperate. “I love you! You love me! It’s just one kid! I’ll hire the best doctors, the best nannies. You won’t even have to change a diaper. You won’t get a single stretch mark, I swear! Everything stays the same, we just need a baby!” He was practically dragging her toward the stairs, toward the bedroom. “Come on. We’re doing this. Right now.” He looked back at his grandfather. “We’ll do it! We’ll have a baby! Just don’t give everything to her child!” Grandfather Charles actually smiled. He didn’t care about my feelings; I was just the leverage he’d needed. “Fine. If you two produce an heir, boy or girl, then Mara’s child is nothing. If it makes you feel better, I’ll even pay for her to terminate.” I didn’t say a word. I just kept my face pressed to the floor, letting out a soft, broken sob. But behind the curtain of my hair, I was smiling. Pierce and Tinsley disappeared into the bedroom. Ten minutes later, a scream tore through the house. It wasn’t a scream of passion. It was a sound of absolute, soul-shattering horror. “AHHHHH! Tinsley, I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” The parents and the guards rushed up the stairs, bursting into the room. The scene was chaos. Pierce was half-dressed, his face contorted in madness. He had Tinsley pinned to the bed, his hands locked around her throat. “You’re a monster!” he shrieked. “You should be dead!” His father lunged forward, prying Pierce’s hands off her. Tinsley slumped against the headboard, gasping for air, her face purple. Pierce fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. “Dad… Mom… it’s over. I’m ruined.”

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My boyfriend recently made a choice that felt like a localized earthquake: he hired his childhood sweetheart to be the head of administration at his boutique private hospital. The very next day, this new “Administrative Director” summoned me to collect my employee benefits. When I opened the bag, I found three pounds of bruised, weeping, fermented apples. The stench of rot hit me like a physical blow. I actually laughed, thinking it was a prank—an early April Fool’s joke, maybe. “Okay, very funny. You got me.” She didn’t laugh. She looked me up and down with a clinical, freezing contempt. “Dr. Sinclair’s orders. Starting today, benefits are allocated based on individual contribution. Even a Chief Surgeon isn’t exempt from the new metric.” Her lip curled into a smirk. “If you’re unhappy with your haul, maybe you should look inward. Find the root of your own lack of value.” My lack of value? I felt a surge of indignation and snatched the benefit ledger from her desk. Right there, next to her name—Lexi Dalton—the entry read: 3.5 oz 24k Gold Bar. She screeched, lunging across the desk to grab the folder. “That’s a confidential document! You have no right!” The shouting brought Parker running. He didn’t even look at me. He stepped between us, shielding Lexi as if I were a physical threat. “Claire! What is wrong with you? If you’re so incompetent that you have to take your jealousy out on her, do it on your own time. Don’t you dare bully her in front of me.” The dam broke. I slammed the bag of rotting fruit onto the mahogany desk, the juice splattering. “This is what you call a benefit? She is intentionally insulting me, Parker, and you’re standing there acting like her bodyguard?” Lexi didn’t look insulted. She looked victorious. she leaned in, looping her arm through Parker’s with a sickening familiarity. “Dr. Whittaker, really, have you no shame? Parker is my fiancé. Why on earth would he take your side?” I felt the air leave my lungs. I looked at Parker, waiting for the denial, the “it’s a misunderstanding,” the “she’s just joking.” Instead, he pulled her closer, his expression softening into a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in months. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The silence was his confirmation. In that moment, the scales fell from my eyes. All those years he insisted on keeping our relationship a secret “to maintain professional boundaries” and “protect our careers”? It was never about the hospital. It was so he could cut me loose whenever he wanted, without a single tether to hold him back. … Watching them smile at each other, lost in their own private world of shared history, I felt a dry, bitter laugh bubble up in my throat. “So much for your rule about ‘no romance in the workplace,’ huh, Parker?” He turned to me, his eyes narrowing. That look—the one that always meant I was being a burden. “Claire, don’t be so incredibly childish.” “Childish? We’ve been together for six years.” “We dated,” he corrected, his voice flat. “But what was it, really? We were a couple, sure, but it wasn’t a life sentence. There was no need to broadcast it to the world.” He squeezed Lexi’s hand, a genuine smile finally breaking through his mask of coldness. “But Lexi… Lexi is different. She’s the person I want to build a future with. She’s always been the one.” Lexi beamed, leaning her head against his shoulder, pressing herself into him. Parker’s hand settled on her waist, marking his territory. When he looked back at me, the warmth vanished. “I kept us under wraps precisely because I knew you’d get like this. Obsessive. Clinging. If you have any dignity left, we can end this like adults.” Obsessive? Clinging? I felt like I was looking at a stranger. Six years ago, when I agreed to be his girlfriend, he had swung me around in his arms until we were both dizzy. “Claire, as soon as we graduate, I’m putting a ring on your finger. I want my whole life to be about you.” But for six years, that “future” kept receding like a mirage. Year one: “The market is too unstable; I want to give you the life you deserve first.” Year two: “The clinic is just starting; I’m too busy training staff. Just a little longer, baby.” Year three: He started getting annoyed. “Why are you pressuring me? Don’t you understand how much stress I’m under?” So, I stopped asking. I thought I was being the supportive partner. I thought I was giving him the space to build his dream. I didn’t realize that while I was waiting for him to build a home for us, he was just building a porch for someone else to move into. A year ago, the hospital needed a new MRI suite. He was short on capital, frantic, losing sleep. I had been ready to mortgage the house my grandmother left me to give him the cash. But then he vanished for a week. Didn’t return my texts. When he finally showed up, he blew up at me. “The hospital is at a critical juncture! I don’t have time to coddle you and your little princess moods!” And I—fool that I was—apologized. I blamed myself for being “needy” while he was under pressure. Contrast that with yesterday: Lexi, in her second day on the job, locked the hospital’s primary operating account because she forgot the password and tried too many times. Did Parker yell? No. He stroked her hair and whispered, “Don’t worry, honey. It’s just a glitch. We’ll fix it.” He dropped a million-dollar contract negotiation mid-meeting to drive her to the bank personally. He spent a week sorting out her mess, and not once did he lose his patience. He did have a soft side. He was capable of gentleness and grace. He just didn’t want to waste it on me. The realization was like a series of dots finally connecting into a picture I didn’t want to see. Within hours, the news of our “triangle” had burned through the hospital breakrooms. As the loser in the equation, I was treated to a gauntlet of pitying looks and whispered jokes every time I walked down a hallway. I kept my head down, my fingernails digging into my palms, performing my rounds like a hollowed-out doll. When my shift finally ended, I just wanted to go home and collapse. But when the elevator doors opened on my floor, my heart stopped. The hallway was a labyrinth of cardboard boxes. Two guys from a moving company were stacking my life against the wall like it was trash day. I pushed past them, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Beep—Access Denied. Beep—Fingerprint Not Recognized. I tried again. And again. Panic rising like bile. Then, the door clicked open from the inside. Lexi stood there, draped in a plush white towel—my towel. Her skin was flushed, and her neck was a roadmap of fresh, dark bruises. The air in the apartment smelled like sex and Parker’s expensive cologne. “Oh, hey,” she said, her voice airy and satisfied. “Parker said the move was happening today. He didn’t want things getting messy with too many people having access, so he wiped your biometrics and changed the codes. Hope you don’t mind.” I looked past her at the boxes. Six years of my life. My books, my clothes, my specialized medical journals—all evicted. “Move,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I need to get my things.” Parker stepped out of the bathroom, his lips swollen, looking every bit the man who had just been thoroughly satisfied. He pointed to a single, small suitcase in the corner of the foyer. “Everything you actually brought into this relationship is in there,” he said. “The rest… well, consider it a parting gift to the hospital you claim to love so much.” Six years. Reduced to a carry-on. Thud. The door slammed and locked. I walked down the dark sidewalk, the single suitcase rattling behind me on the pavement. That’s when the tears finally came. A pound of rotten apples. A suitcase. A “goodbye.” Six years. This was all I was worth. The next morning, the alarm on my phone woke me in a generic, windowless room at the Holiday Inn. I stared at the ceiling for a long minute, wondering if this was the day I finally broke. Instead, I splashed my face with ice water, bought a cold Coke from the vending machine, and pressed the can against my swollen eyelids. The relationship was dead, but my career wasn’t. The thought of resigning flashed through my mind, but I killed it instantly. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Why should I be the one to go into hiding? I wanted to see how this farce ended. When I reached my office, the waiting area was eerily empty. No patients. A clerk from the medical board stopped me. “Dr. Whittaker, clinic is canceled for you today. You’re needed in the conference room. Now.” The room was packed. HR, the board, even my department head. Parker sat at the head of the table, looking every bit the powerful CEO. Lexi sat right next to him, dressed in a sharp power suit that looked like it cost more than her monthly salary. Parker didn’t look at me. He looked at the room. “I’ll keep this brief. Due to a documented history of professional negligence and a poor attitude, Dr. Claire Whittaker is being stripped of her title as Chief Surgeon, effective immediately.” A collective gasp rippled through the room. Dozens of eyes turned to me—some sympathetic, some mocking, most just curious. “She is a long-tenured employee,” Parker continued, his voice dripping with mock-humanity. “In the spirit of charity, we won’t be firing her. However, the Facilities and Logistics department is currently understaffed.” Facilities and Logistics. That was the hospital’s euphemism for the janitorial crew. Our head housekeeper had just retired, and they needed someone to scrub the toilets in the inpatient wing. The room erupted into hushed, frantic whispers. The looks shifted from pity to pure, unadulterated shock. Parker cleared his throat, calling for silence. “Furthermore, Dr. Whittaker has been the subject of several patient complaints. As such, she is no longer fit to hold equity in this institution. Her founding shares will be transferred to our new Administrative Director, Lexi Dalton.” I stood up, my chair screeching against the floor. “Complaints? Parker, that one malpractice claim was a confirmed setup. I called the police myself! They apologized to the hospital!” “And yet,” Parker said, leaning back, “it’s a stain on our reputation. Lexi, however, has already proven her worth. Yesterday, she successfully brokered a partnership with the world-renowned cardiothoracic specialist, Dr. Lawrence.” He paused for effect. “You claimed you had the ‘connections’ to get Dr. Lawrence for years, Claire. You burned through a million dollars of hospital funds on ‘research’ and never even got him on the phone. Lexi got him in one day.” I stared at him, genuinely impressed by the sheer scale of his lies. Dr. Lawrence was my mentor’s closest friend. I had spent two grueling months fly-fishing with the man in Maine just to get him to listen to the proposal. He finally agreed, but only on one condition: the hospital had to purchase the latest Da Vinci surgical robot. Those robots were on a two-year backorder. I spent months pulling every string I had, calling in favors from my family’s old circles, just to get us on the priority list. The night before Dr. Lawrence was supposed to sign the contract, Parker told me he’d handle the final meeting. He told me I deserved a night off. Lexi stood up amidst a smattering of coached applause. “I just got lucky,” she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. “But I’ll always do whatever it takes for the good of this hospital.” I didn’t wait for the rest of the speeches. I turned and walked out. Parker caught up to me in the hallway, his face dark. “Claire! You don’t just walk out on a board meeting. You’re lucky you even have a job!” I stopped and looked him dead in the eye. He flinched, just for a second, then doubled down. “Look, the janitorial position… it’s still a paycheck. The market is tough right now. I’m doing this because I care about our history…” “History?” I laughed, the sound sharp and jagged. “Parker, if you cared about history, you wouldn’t be cheating on your ‘history’ with a girl who can’t even remember a login password. You wouldn’t be stealing my work and handing it to her like a trophy.” He snapped. The mask of the “fair CEO” fell away, revealing the petty, cruel man underneath. “You should watch your mouth. Lexi is twice the woman you are. She’s kind. She’s loyal. When I met her—” “I don’t care how you met her,” I interrupted. “Give me my money back. Give me the fifteen million I put into this place, and I’ll walk away and pretend these last six years were just a bad fever dream.” He laughed, a cold, ugly sound. “Your money? What money? That fifteen million you mortgaged? It’s gone, Claire. Spent on ‘operating costs’ during the lean years. And that equity transfer? You signed the papers last week during the ‘routine audit.’ You don’t own a single brick in this building.” Ice water seemed to fill my veins. A week ago, he’d brought me a stack of papers while I was exhausted after a twelve-hour surgery. “Just some insurance stuff, babe. Trust me.” And I had. Lexi strutted up then, swaying her hips, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Parker, why are you even explaining things to this woman? You’re being too nice. She’s ungrateful. She’s a brat. If I were you, I’d have security escort her out right now.” I looked at them. The greed, the pettiness, the absolute lack of a soul. I had wasted six years on a man who was, at his core, a common thief. I didn’t argue. I went to the basement. I checked in with the custodial supervisor. I picked up a mop, a bucket, a scrub brush, and a pilled, scratchy uniform that smelled like industrial bleach. I took off my white coat. I put on the blue vest. As I was scrubbing the tiles in the east wing, a patient recognized me. “Dr. Whittaker? Why are you… are you cleaning the floor?” My colleagues avoided my eyes. They walked on the far side of the hallway, staring at their tablets. A memo had been circulated: No discussion regarding personnel changes. Everyone knew. Everyone saw the fall from Chief Surgeon to Janitor. And because I didn’t scream or cry or jump off the roof, the rumor mill decided I must be guilty of something. Or maybe I was just so pathetic I couldn’t leave him. The night Dr. Lawrence was officially welcomed to the staff was also the hospital’s sixth anniversary. I was at the mop sink when I heard that shrill, nasal voice behind me. “Dr. Whittaker! Oh, I’m sorry. I should call you ‘Claire the Cleaner’ now, shouldn’t I?” I turned. Lexi was standing there, holding her nose as if the very air I breathed was toxic. “The anniversary gala is tonight at the Royal Springs Resort,” she said, her eyes dancing. “Six o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.” I didn’t answer. I just kept wringing out the mop. “Normally, the help isn’t invited to these high-end events,” she continued, “but I begged Parker to let you come. For old time’s sake. Of course, if you’re too ashamed to show your face…” I flicked the mop, a few drops of grey water landing near her designer heels. “Six o’clock. I’ll be there. Now move. You’re in my way.” “You… ugh!” She huffed and stomped away. I showed up in my pilled blue vest. The doorman at the Royal Springs blocked my path for ten minutes, interrogating me until I showed him my employee ID. When I finally entered the ballroom, the room was a sea of tuxedos and silk gowns. Lexi was the center of attention in a plunging red dress, her hair in Hollywood waves, her lips a violent shade of crimson. She saw me and raised her voice so it carried across the room. “Oh look! Our custodial representative has arrived! Sorry, Claire, did a toilet overflow? Is that why you’re late?” The room erupted in cruel, snickering laughter. She pointed to a tiny, wobbly card table tucked into the corner next to the kitchen doors. “Go on. We saved a special seat just for you.” I walked through the gauntlet of whispers and sat down. A waiter arrived and placed a dented stainless steel bowl in front of me. Inside were brown, slimy cabbage leaves and a handful of dirt. The deputy head of HR walked over, swirling a glass of expensive Bordeaux. “Did you think you were getting lobster, Claire? Take your salad to the kitchen and wash it. Or better yet, go look in a mirror and realize exactly where you belong.” She was Lexi’s biggest sycophant. I didn’t say a word. I just pulled out my phone and took several high-resolution photos of the “meal” from multiple angles. This will look great on the internet, I thought. Crash! Dr. Wells, a brilliant young cardiologist I had mentored, slammed his glass onto his table. He stood up, his face flushed with rage as he looked at the silent board members. “How can you all sit there?” he demanded. “Dr. Whittaker built half of your departments! She mentored half of the people in this room! And you’re going to let this… this circus continue? This is disgusting. I’m done.” The silence in the ballroom was deafening. Parker, sitting at the head table, narrowed his eyes. “Sit down, Wells. Or follow her to the basement. Your choice.” “I’d rather work in a basement than for a man like you,” Wells snapped. He pushed back his chair and walked out. Parker turned his gaze to me, his voice a low growl. “You’re quite the temptress, aren’t you, Claire? Even as a janitor, you’re still finding men to do your dirty work.” I looked at the man I had once loved. The “gentle” Parker Sinclair was gone, replaced by this ugly, bloated ego. I stood up, picked up the bowl of rotting cabbage, and walked straight to the head table. “A person with a dirty heart sees filth everywhere,” I said. With one swift motion, I dumped the bowl of mud and slime directly onto the white linen in front of him. I didn’t look back as I walked out of the ballroom, leaving the screams of outrage behind me. Outside, the cool night air felt like a benediction. My phone rang—a specific, jarring ringtone I hadn’t heard in years. I answered. “Claire,” the voice on the other end boomed, vibrating with suppressed fury. “How much longer are you going to let these gutter-rats play in your yard?” “Uncle Thomas?” “You are a Whittaker. My god, Claire, if I hear that you let those two humiliations touch you again, I’m coming down there myself to burn that hospital to the ground.” The next morning, I walked back into the hospital in my blue vest. The staff looked at me like they were seeing a ghost. After the scene at the gala, everyone assumed I’d be hiding under a rock. Instead, I was mopping the lobby as if nothing had happened. By noon, the rumors started flying. The partnership with Dr. Lawrence was falling apart. “I heard Lexi canceled the order for the surgical robot to ‘save costs.’ Dr. Lawrence found out this morning.” “He brought a research team from Johns Hopkins to see the suite, and it was empty. He went ballistic!” “Why did Parker put an admin girl in charge of surgical logistics? Is he insane?” “Shhh! You want to end up like Dr. Wells?” Parker was spiraling. I could hear him yelling from his office all the way down the hall. He cornered me near the elevators. “Claire.” He tried to smile, but it looked like a grimace. “Look, there’s been a… misunderstanding with Dr. Lawrence. I need you to call him. Apologize for Lexi. Smooth things over.” “And if I do?” “I’ll fast-track your reinstatement. You can have your office back. We’ll pretend the last few days never happened.” His phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it, then stepped away to answer. “Lexi, honey, it’s fine. Don’t cry. I’ve got it under control. I love you too.” He turned back to me, the ‘love’ still in his eyes for her, while he looked at me like a tool he needed to sharpen. “So? Dr. Lawrence?” “You have the wrong person, Director Sinclair,” I said, leaning on my mop. “I’m the janitor. I don’t have that kind of pull.” “Claire, don’t be difficult.” “I’m responsible for the floors, Parker. I’m not responsible for cleaning up your mistress’s messes. You’re a big, powerful CEO. Figure it out.” His face turned a dangerous shade of purple. “You’re going to regret this. I’ll make sure you’re blacklisted from every hospital in the country. You’ll be begging me for a job at a gas station!” He stormed off. Five minutes later, Lexi arrived in four-inch heels to finish the job. She kicked over my mop bucket, the dirty water cascading down the stairs I had just cleaned. I stepped back, avoiding the splash. “You bitch!” Lexi screamed. “Parker was being nice to you! You think you’re still the big-shot doctor? I can ruin you with one phone call!” She grabbed my arm, her diamond-encrusted nails digging into my skin until I felt the sting of blood. “If you’re so powerful, Lexi, why haven’t you fired me yet?” I asked quietly. “Is it because Parker is terrified? Because deep down, he knows he’s drowning and I’m the only one who knows where the life jackets are?” Her face contorted. She raised her hand to strike me. “I’ll kill you!” “Stop right there!” A hand like a vice gripped Lexi’s wrist mid-air. She spun around, eyes wide with terror. Standing there was a man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his expression like granite. Behind him stood Dr. Lawrence and half a dozen other prominent surgeons. Lexi tried to wrench her arm away, then immediately shifted into “damsel” mode. “Dr. Lawrence! Oh, thank goodness. This woman was attacking me—” Dr. Lawrence didn’t even look at her. He stepped toward the man in the charcoal suit. “President Lin, I am so incredibly sorry. I had no idea Dr. Whittaker was being treated this way.” Lexi’s jaw dropped. “President… Lin?” Thomas Lin. The Chairman of the National Medical Oversight Committee. The man who held the licenses of every private hospital in the state in the palm of his hand. Thomas ignored her. He was staring at the blood dripping from my arm. “You’re bleeding, Claire. You need a bandage.” “I’m fine, Uncle Thomas,” I said, wiping the scratch. He looked at my blue vest, his voice trembling with a mix of heartbreak and rage. “Why are you wearing this? Who did this to you?”

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The afternoon sun was warm as I stood by the gates of the elementary school, my heart doing that familiar, eager little flutter. When I finally spotted her walking out, I immediately threw my hand up. “Mia, Mommy’s right here!” I called out, a bright smile on my face. But she only shot me a frigid, sideways glance before deliberately turning to walk in the opposite direction. Panic spiking, I hurried after her and caught her gently by the arm. “Mia, sweetie, it’s Mommy. Didn’t you see me?” I asked, my brow furrowing in confusion. To my absolute shock, she yanked her arm out of my grasp and began to scream. “You’re a bad lady! I don’t know you!” Her high-pitched voice pierced the noise of the crowd, drawing the stares of every parent nearby. A teacher quickly stepped in, pulling Mia behind her back and eyeing me with intense suspicion. I froze, completely bewildered. I threw my hands up in a placating gesture. “Mia, stop playing around, honey. It’s Mommy.” But my daughter just cowered behind her teacher’s legs, her voice trembling with manufactured grievance. “Ms. Davis, I don’t know her. My mommy isn’t fat and ugly like that.” 1 Before I could even process the words, the teacher was already dialing 911. Ten minutes later, a police cruiser idled by the school gates. Two officers approached. After listening to the teacher’s breathless account, they looked me up and down, their expressions guarded. “Ma’am, who are you? What is your relationship with Mia?” My hands shook as I dug my driver’s license out of my purse and handed it over. “I’m not lying. I am her mother. I am Paige.” The officer glanced at my ID, then knelt down to eye level with my daughter. “Sweetheart, do you know this woman?” Mia shook her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. “No. I don’t know her.” The teacher chimed in, crossing her arms. “Her grandmother is usually the one who picks her up. In all my time teaching Mia, I’ve never once seen her mother.” Desperation clawed at my throat. “Her grandmother went to her bridge club today and lost track of time! She specifically called me to come get her.” No one was listening. I crouched down, forcing myself to look directly into my daughter’s eyes. They were the exact replica of her father’s—narrow, sharp, and capable of a coldness that felt entirely unnatural for a six-year-old. “Mia, what is going on with you today? How can you suddenly not know your own mother?” She shot me a fleeting, guilty look before shrinking further behind the teacher’s skirt. “Ms. Davis, my mommy is skinny and beautiful. That’s not my mommy. Can you please call my daddy to come get me?” A sickening realization began to settle over me. I looked down at myself. My sneakers were clearance rack slip-ons I’d bought at Target a year ago, the white rubber edges now scuffed to a dull gray. My shirt was an oversized, faded cotton tee, the collar stretched out, a faint grease stain from cooking lunch blooming near the hem. I could literally smell the lingering scent of minced garlic and onions on my own skin. Standing in the sea of polished, Lululemon-wearing, blowout-sporting suburban mothers, I was decidedly not beautiful. The police called my husband, Trent. He arrived shortly after. He parked his Audi, walked over, and caught sight of me from a distance. The look in his eyes was a mirror of Mia’s—a desperate, palpable desire to distance himself from me entirely. A deep chill seeped into my bones. My daughter wasn’t the only one disgusted by my appearance. The officer pointed at me. “Sir, do you know this woman?” Trent nodded stiffly, letting out a reluctant, “Yeah.” “Your daughter claims this woman is not her mother. Can you clarify her relationship to the child?” Trent went silent. One second. Two seconds. Three. He looked at me again, his jaw set. “She’s our nanny. Something came up at work, so I asked her to do the school run today.” A nanny. I stood rooted to the pavement, the shock so profound it robbed me of speech. The daughter I had carried for nine months, the child I had raised with my own two hands, had just called me a stranger. The husband I shared a bed with, the man whose every need I had meticulously catered to, had just called me the help. It hit me then, a brutal, blinding truth: in that house, I wasn’t a family member to anyone. The whispers of the surrounding crowd grew louder. I could feel their scorn, their absolute contempt burning into my skin. “No wonder the poor kid was terrified. It’s the nanny trying to pass herself off as the mom.” “I know, right? Look at how she’s dressed. Tragic. Definitely not the mother.” My face burned with a heat so intense I wished the asphalt would crack open and swallow me whole. I looked pleadingly at Mia and Trent, begging them silently to say something, anything, to clear my name. They both turned their heads away. Deliberately. In that single, quiet moment, I understood my place. In our home, I didn’t even exist. 2 The atmosphere in the car ride home was suffocating. Trent caught my eye in the rearview mirror, his tone clipped and defensive. “I’ve told you before not to do the school run looking like that. You embarrassed her today. I need you to be more considerate of our daughter’s feelings.” When I didn’t respond, Mia began to fake-cry in the backseat, dramatic little sniffles filling the silence. “Yeah, Mommy. Look at the other mommies. They’re all skinny and pretty and wear nice clothes. But you? You’re fat and ugly. My friends are going to laugh at me.” I turned my head slowly to look at her. Today, my daughter was wearing a pristine blush-pink sundress. I had spent twenty minutes that morning braiding her hair into twin buns, securing them with little rhinestone crown clips. She looked like a perfect, flawless little princess. Every single item of clothing she owned, I had painstakingly picked out. Every hairstyle, I had crafted with aching hands at dawn. And the crisp button-down shirt Trent was currently wearing? I had washed it, treated the collar, and ironed it three times to get the creases just right. I did the laundry. I cooked the meals. I scrubbed the floors. I served the elders, I served the child, I served the house. I was, in every practical sense, nothing more than a nanny. Taking my silence as submission, Trent’s voice softened slightly. “I’m sorry, Paige. I’m just trying to protect Mia’s feelings. Just… dress a little better next time you go to the school.” I sat in a haze of numbness. So a child’s love for her mother was entirely conditional upon the clothes she wore. Then what, exactly, did the last six years of my bleeding, sweating devotion count for? When we got home, muscle memory took over. Before I could even think, I found myself in the kitchen. Heating the oil. Tossing in the chicken wings. Flipping them. Adding the minced garlic. The hot oil sputtered, stinging my eyes. I rubbed them with the back of my wrist and kept cooking. After nearly an hour of standing over the stove, I carried Mia’s favorite honey-garlic wings to the dining table. By the time I finally sat down, they had already eaten most of the sides. I picked up my fork and reached for a wing. Smack. Mia brought her fork down hard against the back of my hand. My wing slipped from my grip and tumbled back onto the serving platter. “Mommy, why are you eating the chicken? If you eat it, what are Daddy and Grandma going to eat?” 3 I froze, the sting on my hand barely registering over the ringing in my ears. There had been twelve wings on that plate. Mia had eaten four. Trent had eaten three. My mother-in-law, Helen, had eaten two. There were exactly three left. I hadn’t had a single one. “Grandma and Daddy have already had theirs,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “Mommy hasn’t eaten yet.” Mia looked at me with staggering entitlement. “There are three left. Daddy, Grandma, and I get one each. If you eat one, we can’t divide it equally.” The blood rushed to my head. I stared at my six-year-old daughter, utterly completely blindsided. Helen reached over, picking up one of the remaining wings and placing it onto Mia’s plate, her eyes crinkling with fond approval. “Our Mia is such a good girl. So sweet, always thinking of her daddy and her grandma.” With that, Helen picked up the last two wings, dropping one onto Trent’s plate and the other onto her own. Only then did she lift her chin to look at me, her face twisting in pure disdain. “Paige, you’re a grown woman. Are you seriously fighting a child for food?” Trent, forever the peacekeeper of his own comfort, chimed in smoothly. “Paige, come on, Mia’s just playing with you. Besides, weren’t you talking about going on a diet? Have some more of the salad.” “Exactly,” Helen scoffed. “Look at the state of you. Dressing like you’re off to collect scrap metal to pick up the kid. Have you no shame? Mia told me everything as soon as she got home. How is the poor girl supposed to hold her head up around her classmates when you look like that?” “Yeah, Mommy,” Mia chimed in, her mouth full of chicken. “Don’t eat it. You’re too fat anyway. You need to diet.” I set my fork down. I looked at the empty serving platter, and I felt something deep inside me snap, crystallizing into pure, arctic ice. The last time I made this, Mia had complained they weren’t flavorful enough. So today, I had marinated them for two extra hours. I had gone to the butcher to pick out the best cuts. I had minced every single clove of garlic by hand. I had scrubbed the cast-iron skillet until it gleamed. I had stood in that kitchen for an hour. And at the end of it all, I wasn’t even deemed worthy of a single bite. I didn’t pick my fork back up. I didn’t swallow my pride and stay silent like I had a thousand times before. I stood up, grabbed the platter of chicken wings, the salad, the braised fish, and the soup, and dumped every last bit of it straight into the garbage can. The entire room went dead silent. Helen was the first to recover. She slammed her hand flat against the table. “Paige, have you lost your mind?! What are you doing throwing perfectly good food away!” Trent shot up from his chair, pointing a finger at me. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I ignored them. I crouched down so I was eye-level with my daughter. “Mia. I have raised you for six years, and I don’t even deserve a piece of chicken?” Mia burst into terrified, wailing sobs. Helen lunged forward, pulling the girl to her chest, screaming at me. “She’s a child! Why are you bullying a child! Is it really that serious?!” Trent stepped toward me, his face red. “She’s right! It’s just a damn chicken wing! Do you really need to throw a psycho tantrum over it?” Just a chicken wing? I stood up slowly, looking at the three of them. The family I had built. “Everyone in this house is allowed to eat the food I cook, except me. Fine. Then I’m done cooking.” I turned on my heel, walked into the master bedroom, and shut the door. Outside, Helen’s shrill voice bled through the wood. “Spoiled brat! Over nothing! If she won’t cook, fine! My son makes enough money to take us to a restaurant!” Trent’s voice followed, soothing her. “Mom, don’t let it get your blood pressure up. She’s probably pre-menopausal or something. Just ignore her.” I leaned my back against the heavy wooden door, listening to them, and suddenly found myself wanting to laugh. I had served as the lifeblood of this family for six years. I flipped one table, and suddenly I was the crazy woman. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a notification from the parents’ group chat. The teacher had posted an announcement: “Congratulations to Mia for winning first place in the first-grade essay contest with her piece, ‘My Mother’!” I tapped on the attached photo of the handwritten essay. “My mother is a piano teacher.” “She is very beautiful, and she has a very gentle voice. Every time she picks me up from school, all my friends tell me my mommy is so pretty.” “She is very classy and smart, and she plays the piano beautifully. I love my mommy the most. She is the best person I’ve ever met.” I stared at the glowing screen, reading every single word. My eyes began to burn. Because the mother in my daughter’s essay wasn’t me. It was her piano teacher, Queena. I wiped roughly at the corner of my eye. I couldn’t figure out when it happened. When did my little girl change so much? She used to cling to me. When she was a toddler, she would crawl under my covers every single night, begging me to read her Peppa Pig books. I would read them over and over until she finally drifted off, her soft little cheek pressed flush against my arm. Before I married Trent, I used to be just like Queena. Cultured. Gentle. Put-together. But then I got married. I had a baby. My entire universe shrank to the perimeter of a kitchen stove. Standing in the kitchen for hours every night, my skin constantly blasted by cooking steam, my hands perpetually pruned from washing dishes in freezing water. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year, on an endless, looping track. I took care of everyone else, and in the process, I ground myself down into a tired, invisible ghost of a woman. I took a long, shaky breath. Then, I pulled up my contacts and called my parents. “Dad? Mom? That next round of funding you were planning to inject into Trent’s company? Put a freeze on it.” “There’s something I need to figure out first.”

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