Category: English

1 The day my aunt Teri’s heart began to fail, my father strapped my mother to an operating table, forced a heart transplant, and bought Teri another ten years of life. From that day on, I ran away from home and buried myself in my studies. I graduated at the top of my class and secured a fellowship at the prestigious Medical Research Institute. Ten years later, I developed a fully functional artificial heart. As a highly sought-after specialist, countless desperate souls begged at my door, all vying for a slot to receive the artificial heart. My assistant, Lexi, handed me the latest batch of applications. At the very top of the stack, in bold letters, was my aunt’s name. I took a pen, drew a heavy line through her name, and said, “Denied. Block her permanently.” The applications were sorted by the size of the donation offered. The only reason Teri’s name was at the top was because my biological father, Victor, had offered an astronomical sum. Yet, I crossed it out without a second thought. She had lived on my mother’s stolen heart for a decade. It was time to pay the debt. Lexi took the paper back, her eyes widening as she stared at the dark ink. “Dr. Eva, Vargas MedTech is offering a one-billion-dollar endowment for our research.” “They want to distribute it over ten years, a hundred million annually.” “If we take this, we won’t just secure our funding. We could double the number of charity surgeries we perform every year.” I stared at Lexi until her voice trailed off into a whisper. Ten years. It had been exactly ten years since my mother died. My gaze drifted to the frame on my desk. The original family photo had been torn in half, leaving only a bright, smiling woman holding her young daughter. “I’ll handle the funding,” I said quietly. “But this application is permanently blacklisted.” Lexi looked bewildered. When the artificial heart first launched, I established a strict rule: a fixed portion of our budget must be reserved annually to provide free surgeries for pediatric heart patients. Accepting the Vargas deal meant saving dozens of innocent children, yet I was turning it down. Seeing the absolute resolve in my eyes, Lexi hesitated. “Should I draft the rejection letter to Vargas MedTech?” “Yes,” I replied. She left my office, glancing back at me with concern. A moment later, a notification popped up on my screen. The system’s blacklist count had changed from zero to one. Lexi had been with me since the project’s inception, but she didn’t know the truth. That charity rule wasn’t just policy. It was a tribute to my mother’s soul. I poured my life into this research to prevent another tragedy like the one that took my mother. She was only thirty-eight when she died. The night it happened, I had just received my college acceptance letter. We stayed up late in her bed, talking about my dreams of medical school. I fell asleep beside her, completely unaware when my father dragged her away. By the time I woke up the next morning, the surgery was over. Teri was alive, my mother was a pile of ashes, and I never even got to say goodbye. Instead, I was forced to face my aunt. When she woke in the recovery room, I watched my father rush to her side, weeping with joy as he held her hand. Teri looked at me and promised she would care for me in my mother’s place. But she wasn’t my mother. I would never have a mother again. Once the horrifying truth came to light, I packed my bags and fled. I changed my major to cardiothoracic medicine. From that day on, I consumed textbook after textbook, studying anatomical specimens and tracing the pathways of human hearts until my eyes burned. My life became a relentless cycle of libraries and study rooms, starting at dawn and ending past midnight. I lived like that for eight years. By graduation, I had designed the first prototype. It took another two years of grueling trials and regulatory hurdles to finally bring it to the public. Ten years. I hadn’t seen either of them in a decade. Until today. I sat back down at my desk and pulled up my computer. A clean folder of new patient files was waiting in my inbox, but my hand moved on its own, clicking on the archived Vargas application. When the scan of Teri’s face appeared on my screen, mirroring my mother’s features so closely, a tear slipped past my lashes and splashed onto the keyboard. My phone began to buzz. Lexi knocked twice before bursting in, her face flushed with panic. “Dr. Eva, someone from Vargas MedTech is on the line. I don’t know how they bypassed our system to get your direct number, I couldn’t stop them.” I stared at the vibrating screen. With a slow sweep of my finger, I wiped away the tears. “It’s fine,” I said quietly. Ten years was long enough. “It’s time we had a talk.” 2 I swiped to answer. A voice, both intimately familiar and chillingly distant, filled the line. “Are you the lead developer of the artificial heart? I’m Victor. I assume you know who I am.” “I do,” I replied smoothly. “What is your price? Money? Status? Recognition? I can donate fifteen million, twenty million, call it a blessing for my ailing wife. I’m close friends with your board director. Accept this patient, and I can guarantee you a fast track to department head. Think it over.” When I offered only silence, he immediately tried to sweeten the pot. “In addition to all of that, I can personally transfer shares of Vargas MedTech to your name.” A small, cold smile touched my lips as I cut him off for the first time. “Mr. Victor, those things don’t interest me.” The line went dead silent for a few seconds. “Then tell me what you want,” he demanded. “Name your price.” I chuckled softly. “It isn’t a matter of money. It’s the patient. I won’t operate on her.” Victor let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “You won’t? I’ve done my research. You’re the only surgeon capable of performing this specific implantation. Now you’re telling me you won’t do it? Are you playing games with me?” He paused, likely remembering he was the one begging, and forced his tone to soften. “Look, if you do this, if you save her life, I will sign over five percent of Vargas MedTech to you immediately. That is more wealth than you could earn in several lifetimes.” I repeated my words, slowly and deliberately. “Mr. Victor, money is not the issue here.” “Then what is the issue?” Victor practically roared through the receiver. “You’re a doctor! It’s your duty to save lives! Refusing to treat her is no different from murder!” He took a few ragged breaths before continuing, his tone turning venomous. “I’ve looked into your history. I know you’ve bled for this project. You’re deeply in debt from a high-stakes funding agreement you signed years ago, one you still haven’t cleared. I even know you recklessly tested experimental materials on yourself, nearly dying from anaphylactic shock. That funding agreement expires this year, doesn’t it?” “Vargas MedTech is the heavyweight in this industry. With a single word from me, I can ensure no venture capitalist touches your lab. Once I cut off your financial oxygen, your funding dries up. Your project, your career, everything you are will be utterly ruined.” “Is that so?” I let out a soft laugh. “Then you don’t need to trouble yourself on my behalf, Mr. Victor. But if I go down, the woman you’re so desperate to save will go down long before I do. Go ahead and try your worst.” Silence stretched over the line, punctuated only by his heavy, rapid breathing. “What do you actually want? What will it take for you to perform this surgery?” “I’ve already told you,” I said. “No.” A sudden realization seemed to strike him. “Who are you? Do we know each other? Have I crossed you in the past?” My silence only solidified his suspicion. “I don’t care who you are,” he snarled, his patience snapping. “You will save her, whether you want to or not. I expect you to be in that operating room within three hours. If you aren’t, you will face the consequences.” “I’ll be waiting,” I said calmly. I pressed the end-call button, cutting off his threats with a dial tone. I wasn’t afraid of Victor digging into my background. My research was under federal security clearance, and my true identity was classified. I opened an encrypted application on my desktop. Inside lay the puzzle pieces of the truth I had painstakingly gathered over the past ten years, evidence Victor believed he had swept away long ago. It was more than enough to dismantle Vargas MedTech and send both Victor and Teri straight to prison. One click would ruin their reputations instantly. Looking at the torn photo at the corner of my desk, I whispered to the empty room. “I know, Mom. Your heart must be so tired of beating inside her. But please, just wait a little longer. I still have a part to play.” “The fall is always most devastating from the highest peak. Only when Victor feels the exact pain I felt will he truly begin to pay.” 3 Three hours came and went. Victor didn’t get his surgery, but his retaliation arrived right on schedule. A group of federal investigators marched into my office, their expressions stern and uncompromising. “Dr. Eva, an internal whistleblower has filed a formal complaint accusing you of embezzling state research grants. You need to come with us for questioning.” Before I could open my mouth, Lexi stepped forward defensively. “That’s impossible!” Her eyes were wide with shock as she blocked the investigators. “You must have the wrong person! Anyone else in this facility might be capable of that, but not Dr. Eva!” She was on the verge of tears. “A few years ago when our budget ran dry, Dr. Eva sold her own house to keep us afloat. She even pawned her own mother’s heirlooms just to cover the security deposit for our funding.” “Lexi, that’s enough,” I said sharply. She fell silent, tears spilling over her cheeks. I looked around the room. Several members of my research team lowered their gaze, unable to meet my eyes. I had handpicked every one of them, guiding them from the project’s infancy. I had treated them with nothing but fairness and respect. “You all did great,” I murmured, my voice dripping with cold irony. “I won’t forget this.” They confiscated my access cards and seized my research servers. To ensure I didn’t leave the country, they held my passport. Later that evening, Victor’s call came through. “Ready to surrender?” “Never,” I said, and hung up. The next morning, Victor uploaded a video statement to social media. With tears streaming down his face, he pleaded desperately for his wife’s life. “I don’t know what grudge this doctor holds against me, but my wife is completely innocent. She has been confined to a hospital bed for ten long years, watching the world go by through a window.” “Her only wish is to feel the ocean breeze one last time, to see the snow.” “I beg of you, give her that chance. If you agree to perform the surgery, Vargas MedTech will donate three hundred million dollars to artificial heart research and charity care.” The video spread like wildfire, igniting public outrage. With paid bots steering the narrative, I became public enemy number one overnight. The comment sections were brutal. “Who is this doctor? Sounds like a bitter, miserable creature. How can someone be so heartless?” “A human life is on the line, and she’s playing god. Absolutely disgusting.” “Vargas MedTech, tell us where she is! If she won’t do the surgery, we’ll drag her to the hospital ourselves!” “Isn’t saving lives literally a doctor’s job? Revoke her medical license immediately!” “If you have zero empathy, you don’t deserve to live.” It didn’t take long for internet vigilantes to dox me. My name, Eva Vargas, my license plate, and my position at the research institute were posted online for the world to see. Once news of my suspension and embezzlement investigation leaked, angry protesters began gathering near my apartment’s parking garage. The moment I stepped out of the building, rotten eggs and garbage rained down on me. “Monster! You have no right to practice medicine!” “Get out of our city!” In the span of forty-eight hours, I had become a pariah, hunted by the very public I had spent ten years trying to save. 4 I barely managed to scramble into my car and lock the doors before my phone rang again. Victor’s name flashed on the screen. “How does it feel to be the most hated woman in the country? Ready to yield, my dear daughter?” “Shut up,” I hissed, gripping the steering wheel. “Hearing that word come out of your mouth makes me physically sick.” “Does it? That’s rather hurtful. But whether you like it or not, I am your father.” Victor let out a soft laugh, then sighed. “I suggest you agree to my terms soon. After all, if we can’t use the artificial heart, there is always another way to save her.” “Then go find someone else to do your dirty work,” I spat. I ended the call and put the car in drive, but as I pulled out of the garage, I noticed several dark SUVs tailing me. Within minutes, they boxed me in on the highway, forcing my sedan to a screeching halt. The door of the leading black SUV swung open, and a man stepped out. It was Victor. He leaned against the hood of his car, adjusting his cuffs. “Since you refused to do this the easy way, we’ll have to do it the hard way.” Before I could hit the lock button, his bodyguards shattered my driver’s side window, dragged me out, and threw me into the back of his vehicle. Victor climbed in right next to me. “I really wanted you to live, Eva. I truly did. All you had to do was cooperate. But since you’ve chosen to be stubborn, and we have no artificial heart, your own heart will have to replace your mother’s.” My hands were bound tightly behind my back, leaving me with nothing but a lethal glare. “That’s how my mother died ten years ago, wasn’t it?” Victor clipped the end of a cigar, lit it, and took a long, slow drag. He blew a thick cloud of smoke into the tight cabin. “You’re smart, Eva. But just like Judith, you’re far too stubborn.” He glanced at me sideways. “I tried to reason with her. But she refused to listen. She claimed she had promised to take you on a graduation trip, insisting she would only donate her heart after she returned.” “She thought I was an idiot, unable to see she was just trying to buy time. She wanted to stall until Teri died so she could keep living. How could I let that happen?” Rage boiled inside me, threatening to burst. “So you kidnapped her, strapped her down, and stole her heart to keep Teri alive!” “Exactly. Though I must admit, Judith’s heart proved to be just as fragile as she was. Ten years was all it could manage.” Victor turned to look at me, his eyes as cold as stone. “Fortunately, when the doctors told me about her genetic match back then, I made sure she gave birth to you first. Now that her heart is failing, yours will do nicely. If you hadn’t run away a decade ago, I wouldn’t have had to waste so much time chasing after that artificial heart project in the first place.” I gritted my teeth, staring directly into his hollow eyes. “The embezzlement charges, the media campaign, the doxing, it was all you.” He smiled. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?” The SUV pulled into the secluded courtyard of a private clinic, the facility where Teri was being kept. Victor’s men pulled me out of the car. He caught my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Don’t worry, Eva. You will sign a voluntary donor agreement, just like your mother did. When the media reports on your passing, they will say you gave your life to atone for your crimes. It will be poetic.” I spat at his feet, shouting over the roar of the wind. “You will regret this, Victor! You are going to pay for every single thing you’ve done!” He didn’t bother responding. He simply pushed me toward the waiting surgeons. “I’ll be waiting,” he muttered. As soon as my back was turned to him, a cold grin spread across my face. Deep inside my coat pocket, my phone’s screen was glowing, transmitting a live broadcast signal to a secure server. Every confession, every threat, and every detail of how he murdered my mother was currently being broadcasted live to the entire country. They dragged me into the sterile operating room where Teri lay hooked up to a life-support monitor. Seeing me, she wept, reaching her trembling hand toward Victor. “Thank goodness you found her. We can finally be a family again.” She was never innocent. She knew where her first heart came from, and she knew exactly where this one was coming from now. I stared at her, engraving her twisted face into my mind. They strapped me to the cold steel table. The anesthesiologist prepped the syringe, the cold metal needle resting against the vein on the back of my hand. Just as the plunger was about to be pressed, the heavy silence of the corridor shattered. My rescue had arrived. The double doors of the operating room burst open, slamming against the walls with a violent crash. “Police! Nobody move! Put your hands where we can see them!”

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When my due date approached and I requested maternity leave, my boss replied with just two words: “Request denied.” Holding up the hospital admission notice from my doctor, I asked him, “My water could break at any second. What then?” He pushed the slip back across the desk. “Then we’ll talk when it does.” I let out a soft laugh. “Fine. Have it your way.” The next morning, I walked into the office right on time, carrying my hospital go bag. The bag sat by my feet, a disposable underpad lined my office chair, and a portable oxygen canister was placed right next to my computer. When my boss walked past and frowned, a sudden, sharp contraction seized my abdomen, forcing me to grip the edge of my desk for support. Then his eyes fell on the wet puddle spreading rapidly at my feet, and he froze, completely terrified. 1 Mike looked up, his eyes briefly scanning my swollen belly before darting back to his computer screen. “Another day off?” Outside the glass door of the HR department, a few coworkers pretended to fetch water, their ears straining to catch every word. “It’s not a sick day. It’s maternity leave.” I placed the doctor’s notice on his desk, keeping my voice as steady as possible. “The doctor says I’m full term. My cervix is already beginning to dilate. I need to be admitted to the hospital today or tomorrow to prepare for delivery.” Mike picked up the slip, glanced at it for barely two seconds, and tossed it back. “The project launch is the day after tomorrow. If you leave now, who wraps it up?” “I already handed everything over to Tina, and I sent an email to the client explaining the transition.” Tina, who was leaning against the doorframe, let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Oh, Kelly, don’t say that. There’s no way I can handle your workload. I’m just an assistant. If something goes wrong, Mike will eat me alive.” She called me her senior, but her eyes were glued to Mike. Mike frowned. “You hear that? There’s no one to take over your files.” “But this is legally mandated maternity leave.” “This company isn’t a charity. Don’t use your pregnancy as a shield.” Outside, the sound of pouring water stopped. I looked down at my feet. My shoes were tight and pinching from the swelling. Inside my belly, the baby gave a soft kick, as if telling me not to be afraid. “Mike, I haven’t missed a single day of work these past few years. Even when I had complications in the first trimester, I stayed up to finish the project proposal in my hospital bed before letting them admit me.” “And?” He leaned back, his eyes full of impatience. “Am I supposed to hand you a medal for that?” Tina covered her mouth, giggling softly. “Kelly, Mike is just looking out for you. Women who take too much time off after having a baby lose their touch and get left behind. You should work as much as you can now to secure your spot.” “I’m taking maternity leave, not resigning.” “Who knows the difference these days?” Mike threw his pen onto the desk. “You female employees always make grand promises before getting pregnant, but once you conceive, it’s one leave after another. First it’s prenatal checkups, then it’s maternity leave, then it’s nursing hours, and then sick leave whenever the kid gets a cold. Is this company a business or a welfare program?” The room fell ice cold. I stared at the paper on his desk, my fingers slowly tightening into fists. “Mike, would you care to put that statement in an email?” His face darkened instantly. “Are you threatening me?” “I am simply asking for a written response.” Mike stood up and shoved the notice back into my hands. “Request denied.” Those words fell like lead. I held the admission notice in front of him. “My water could break at any moment.” He sneered, pushing my hand away. “Then we’ll wait until it does.” Outside the glass, someone gasped. Tina immediately looked down at her phone, pretending to be busy. I let out a soft, quiet laugh. “Fine. Have it your way.” As I turned to leave, a heavy, dragging ache pulled at my lower back. Penny, our junior admin, hurried after me. “Kelly, don’t force yourself. Just go home and let HR handle it later.” From the breakroom, Tina’s voice drifted out. “She’s just playing the pregnancy card. Let’s see if she’s still smiling when she finds out her desk has been cleared.” I squeezed the paper in my hand, leaving a deep crease. The elevator doors opened, and Mike stood at his office door, his voice cold and loud enough for everyone to hear. “I expect you at your desk tomorrow by nine. Any later will be counted as an unexcused absence.” 2 The next morning at exactly eight fifty six, the scanner chimed. The receptionist almost dropped her coffee when she saw me. “Kelly? You actually came in?” I set my heavy hospital bag by my feet and slowly walked to my cubicle, supporting my aching lower back. The office AC was blasting on high, blowing freezing air directly onto my head. My desk chair had been lowered to its absolute limit, and the lumbar support had been removed, leaving nothing but a hard, flat seat. Tina strolled past with a mug in her hand, her voice sweet as syrup. “Oh dear, who could have done that? Kelly, with a belly that big, is it even safe for you to sit on that?” No one answered her. I pulled a disposable underpad from my bag, laid it neatly over the seat, and set my portable oxygen canister right beside my monitor. Then, I laid out my prenatal records, the hospital notice, and my clock-in receipts, arranging them in a perfect row under my clear desk mat. Around me, the clicking of keyboards faltered, then resumed. When Mike walked out of his office, he caught me slipping into my comfortable house slippers. His brow furrowed instantly. “Kelly, is this an office or a maternity ward?” “It’s an office.” I booted up my PC and logged into the portal. “You said we’d wait until my water broke. I’m here waiting.” Several coworkers lowered their heads, their shoulders shaking as they tried to suppress their laughter. Mike’s face turned a brilliant shade of red. “Stop playing the victim. You’re ruining team morale.” “I’m not playing anything.” Suddenly, my abdomen hardened like a stone. I gripped the edge of my desk, unable to sit down. The weight of the baby dragged downward, and a sharp, pulling pain shot through my back, as if someone were tearing my spine from the inside. Penny panicked. “Kelly, are those contractions?” Tina immediately piped in. “Don’t overreact, Penny. Braxton Hicks contractions are perfectly normal in the final weeks. When my cousin was pregnant, she had false alarms for half a month.” Mike looked at me coldly. “Can you still do your job?” “Yes.” I opened the client database, my fingers trembling so hard from the pain that I made several typos. Ten minutes later, Tina dumped a heavy stack of folders onto my desk. “Mike says you know the launch materials best. He wants you to proofread everything one more time.” The heavy stack slammed down, pinning my prenatal booklet underneath. “I already handed these over yesterday.” “Well, I don’t understand them.” She leaned down, keeping her voice low enough so only I could hear. “If you’re really as capable as you claim, finish the job. Don’t make the rest of us suffer for your condition.” I looked up at her. “Would you care to repeat that in front of Mike?” Tina’s eyes welled with tears instantly. “Kelly, I was only asking for help. Why are you being so hostile?” Hearing the commotion, Mike stepped out of his office. “Kelly, leave your personal drama at home.” “She brought back the files I already transferred.” “You’ve been doing this for three years. What’s wrong with double checking them?” He shoved the folders closer to me. “Stop being so fragile.” The sharp edge of the top folder scraped against the back of my hand, leaving an angry red line. A sudden, brutal contraction seized my abdomen, forcing me to double over. I clutched the disposable pad on my chair, crumpling it in my fist. Penny rushed over to support me. “Mike, something is seriously wrong. She’s completely pale.” But Mike only stared at the hospital bag by my feet. “Cut the act. Who brings a hospital bag to work? You’re just trying to humiliate me in front of the whole department.” Before the words fully left his mouth, a warm rush of fluid cascaded down my legs. Within seconds, a dark puddle spread across the carpet. The room plunged into absolute silence. Penny’s face went entirely white. “Her water broke!” Mike stared at the pool of water at my feet, completely frozen. Down the hall, the copy machine continued to click and spit out pages, the rhythmic sound echoing in the stunned silence. 3 “Call an ambulance!” Penny’s voice cracked with panic. Mike remained frozen, as if the words didn’t register. Tina was the first to react, clutching her phone and backing away. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it.” But her fingers shook so violently she couldn’t even navigate past her contacts. The pain hit me in waves now, heavy and relentless. I leaned against the desk, my legs trembling so much I could barely stand. “Dial 911!” Penny snatched the phone right out of Tina’s hands. “You dialed the wrong number! Why on earth are you calling your boyfriend?” Tina’s face flushed red. “I’m panicking, okay?” Mike finally snapped out of his daze, his voice weak and wavering. “Don’t make a scene. Keep working, everyone. Don’t crowd around.” Penny turned on him. “Mike, her water broke!” “I can see that.” He rubbed his face, lowering his voice. “Before the ambulance gets here, move her to the conference room. We can’t have clients seeing this.” Despite the blinding pain, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Mike, you’re worried about clients seeing this, but you aren’t worried about me dying in your conference room?” His mouth twitched. “Kelly, don’t be dramatic.” The cleaning lady stood nearby with a mop, her eyes red. “We shouldn’t move her. A pregnant woman in labor shouldn’t be touched. We have to wait for the paramedics.” Mike looked at the puddle on the floor, then at the crowd of employees watching from the doorway. “Don’t you all have work to do?” Nobody moved. A contraction bent my spine, and I squeezed Penny’s arm so hard my nails dug into her skin. Tina edged closer again. “Kelly, just hang in there. Every woman goes through this when giving birth. Don’t make a big deal out of it. It won’t look good for you when you try to come back to work.” “Shut up.” Penny snapped. It was the first time she had ever raised her voice at Tina. Tina’s eyes welled with tears again. “I was only trying to help.” “Help? By making her proofread files while she’s in active labor?” The HR Director, Vivian, rushed up the stairs, her face as white as paper. “Where is the ambulance?” “Six minutes away,” Penny replied, her voice shaking as she held the phone. Vivian marched right up to Mike. “Mike, I forwarded Kelly’s maternity leave request to you yesterday. The system clearly flagged that her due date was three days away. Why did you reject it?” Mike’s expression shifted. “Is this really the time to discuss that?” “Yes, it is,” I gasped, leaning against the back of the chair, biting my lip to keep from screaming. “Yesterday, when you told me to wait until my water broke, you seemed to think it was very important.” Tina chimed in quickly. “Kelly, the baby is what matters right now. Let’s not argue.” “The baby matters? Is that why you set the thermostat to sixty degrees?” The office fell silent again. Penny looked up at the thermostat control on the wall. “Who did that?” Tina froze. “How should I know? It’s always cold in here.” The receptionist raised her hand timidly. “I saw Tina with the remote this morning.” Tina glared at her. “Keep your mouth shut!” “Enough!” Mike roared, his irritation bubbling over. The next second, a tearing, downward pressure ripped through my abdomen. My breath caught, and the prenatal booklet slipped from my hand, clattering onto the floor. Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor. Paramedics rushed in, pushing a gurney. “Where is the patient?” As they lifted me onto the gurney, Mike took two hurried steps forward. “Kelly, you haven’t given Tina the password for the project files yet!” The paramedic looked at him like he was a lunatic. As they wheeled me out to the ambulance, my phone buzzed in my hand. My husband’s name, Liam, flashed on the screen. I answered it, and his frantic voice came through. “Kelly! Where are you? The hospital called and said you never checked in!” Before I could answer, Mike shoved his way to the side of the gurney and shouted into the phone. “Liam, she went into labor at work! The company had nothing to do with this!” 4 The ambulance doors slammed shut. Liam went silent for half a second. When he spoke again, his voice was terrifyingly cold. “Put the paramedic on.” I handed the phone to the medic. “Her water broke, and her contractions are frequent. She’s full term. We are taking her to St. Jude’s.” The medic paused, looking down at me. “The family needs to get there as soon as possible. We can’t let the patient get any more stressed.” When the call ended, the only sound left in the ambulance was the rhythmic beeping of the monitor. Penny sat in the corner, wiping away tears. “Kelly, I’m so sorry. I should have gone to HR with you yesterday.” “It’s not your fault.” Another contraction hit, stealing my breath. Penny grabbed my hand. “Don’t talk. Save your strength.” My phone buzzed again. In the company group chat, Mike had pinned a new announcement: Kelly Ward is taking temporary leave today due to personal medical reasons. All departments are expected to maintain order and refrain from spreading rumors. Penny saw the notification and held the screen in front of me, her face red with anger. “How can he write that?” I stared at the words “personal medical reasons” through a haze of pain. “Take a screenshot.” Penny blinked, then nodded vigorously. “I’m on it. I’ll save everything.” The moment the ambulance pulled up to the ER, Liam was already waiting. His shirt was misbuttoned, and his hair was a wild mess from the wind. His eyes turned red the moment he saw me. “Kelly.” He called my name, but his voice cracked, unable to say another word. The nurses wheeled me toward the delivery room. “Husband, sign here. Hurry.” Liam ran alongside us for a few steps before the double doors shut him out. “I’m right outside!” his voice echoed through the door. “Don’t be afraid!” The lights in the delivery room were blindingly bright. The nurse asked, “The doctor wanted you admitted yesterday. Why did you wait?” I sweated through my gown, my voice barely a whisper. “My boss wouldn’t let me.” The nurse’s pen paused. The older midwife beside her frowned. “What decade is this? Who denies maternity leave?” Suddenly, the baby’s heart rate dipped on the monitor. The doctor immediately raised her voice. “Oxygen, monitor the fetal heart rate, get ready!” I gripped the bedsheets, my back soaked in sweat. Through the doors, I could hear Liam’s voice rising as he spoke to someone on the phone. “She submitted her admission paperwork yesterday, and the company rejected it. Her water broke at her desk today.” “I’m gathering all the evidence.” “I am not settling this out of court.” Before he could finish, the nurse placed my phone by my pillow. A message from Tina popped up on the screen: Kelly, Mike wants me to ask for your computer password. The client is pressing for the project files. Immediately after, another message arrived: Don’t be angry. Times are tough for everyone. You wouldn’t want your pregnancy to ruin the company’s big launch, would you? I stared at the screen, a cold shiver running through my core. When the worst of the pain subsided, I typed three words: I don’t know. Tina called almost instantly. The nurse frowned and reached to decline it, but I shook my head. The moment I swiped to answer, Tina’s hushed, urgent voice filled the room. “Kelly, stop playing games. Giving birth doesn’t happen that fast. Just give me the password. Mike says if you don’t cooperate, there will be consequences.” Before I could speak, the doctor yelled, “Don’t talk! Push!” The phone slipped from the pillow, landing on the floor with the screen still lit. Tina’s voice blared from the speaker. “Kelly! Are you listening? Don’t think having a baby gives you a free pass to screw over the company!” Outside the delivery room door, there was a heavy, violent thud against the wall. Liam’s voice cut through like ice. “Put her on speakerphone.” 5 The nurse scooped the phone off the floor and set it on the tray. Tina was still talking. “Mike told me to tell you that if the client complains today, you’re solely responsible. And don’t expect to have your old job back when you return.” The doctor had heard enough. She snapped at the phone, “She is currently delivering a baby! Have you people lost your minds?” The other end of the line went dead silent. A moment later, Mike’s voice came through. “Who is this? This is internal company business. Please don’t interfere.” The midwife slammed her gloves onto the tray. “I’m delivering her child, so I am very much involved.” Every nurse in the room turned to look. Mike, clearly not expecting a room full of witnesses, softened his tone slightly. “Kelly, you’re emotional right now, so I won’t hold this against you. We can discuss your position when you return.” Liam’s voice boomed from outside the door. “Mike, you don’t have to wait. We can discuss it right now.” The line went completely quiet. Another contraction hit me like a massive wave. The doctor held my knees. “Look at me. Forget the phone. The baby’s head is crowning.” I gripped the sheets, my ears ringing. A rush of painful memories flooded my mind. The day I had first-trimester bleeding, Mike made me lie on an ER bench to revise a proposal. When my feet swelled so badly I couldn’t wear shoes, Tina had my desk moved to the draftiest corner of the office. During my checkup last month, after I waited three hours for a fetal heart rate test, Mike sent six consecutive question marks in the group chat. Every single time, I told myself to just endure it, that once my maternity leave was approved, everything would be fine. But today, my baby was telling me in the most painful way possible that silence does not buy dignity. “Push!” the doctor commanded. I gritted my teeth and threw every ounce of my strength into my abdomen. Through the phone, Mike’s voice sounded panicked. “Liam, there’s been a misunderstanding. The company never tried to stop her from having her baby. We just needed a proper transition process.” Liam’s voice was steady and absolute. “She handed you her admission notice yesterday, and you told her to wait until her water broke.” The hallway outside seemed to hold its breath. “Who told you that?” Mike’s voice cracked. Liam didn’t answer. Instead, Penny’s voice came through, thick with tears. “I heard it. The entire office heard it.” A final, blinding flash of pain ripped through me. “I see the head! One more time!” the doctor shouted. Sweat poured into my eyes, stinging them shut. On the phone, Mike’s voice was tight with suppressed rage. “Penny, you are an employee of this company. You need to watch what you say.” Penny’s crying stopped. “I will,” she said, her voice trembling but clear. “And I recorded it.” Suddenly, a scuffle broke out outside the door. It sounded like someone trying to grab a phone, and someone else holding them back. A nurse yelled, “This is a delivery ward! Stop this immediately!” Amidst the chaos, a loud, sharp cry pierced the air. I collapsed back onto the bed, tears streaming into my hair. The doctor held up a wet, wriggling bundle. “It’s a girl. Six pounds, three ounces. She’s beautiful.” As they laid her wet cheek against mine, Mike’s angry roar drifted through the door. “Penny! Don’t bother coming in tomorrow! You’re fired!” Penny sobbed back, “I don’t care! Approve Kelly’s leave first!” 6 The delivery room doors swung open, and Liam was the first to rush in. The nurse handed him the baby. He cradled her clumsily, his tears dripping onto her swaddling blanket. “Hey, sweet girl. I’m your daddy,” he whispered, his voice completely broken. I was wheeled back to the recovery room. As the anesthesia wore off, the dull ache of the stitches and postpartum cramps began to settle in. Martha, my mother-in-law, arrived with a thermos of hot soup, her eyes red the moment she walked in. “What kind of monster does this to a pregnant woman?” Before the door could fully close, Mike’s name flashed on my phone again. Liam looked at it and hit speaker. “Liam, I apologize if I sounded harsh earlier, but you have to understand the company’s position,” Mike said, his voice much quieter than it had been outside the delivery room. “We can approve her leave, but she caused a massive scene in the office today. It reflects very poorly on her.” Martha’s face flushed with anger. “Having her water break on the job is a scene?” The line went quiet for a moment. “Ma’am, please don’t misunderstand. That’s not what I meant.” Liam gently laid the baby beside me. “Mike, is this phone call an apology or a threat?” “It’s a conversation.” “Then listen closely.” Liam tapped his phone, and the recording beep sounded. “From this moment on, all communication with Kelly will be in writing. Do not call this number again.” Mike’s breathing grew heavy. “Liam, you’re making this harder than it needs to be.” “I didn’t make this hard,” Liam replied, his voice deadly calm. “You did, the moment you told a full-term pregnant woman to wait until her water broke.” After he hung up, the room fell quiet. Penny stood at the door, hesitating to come in. She was holding my hospital bag, the bottom of her sneakers still damp from the office floor. “Kelly, I’m sorry. I sent the recording to Liam.” “Thank you, Penny.” Penny’s tears began to fall again. “Mike posted in the group chat that I leaked confidential company information. HR wants me in their office tomorrow morning.” Liam looked up. “If you want, I’ll go with you.” Penny nodded eagerly, then shook her head. “No, I can’t. I have a mortgage, and my dad just had surgery. I can’t lose this job.” Her words brought the cold reality of our lives back into the room. We were all afraid. Afraid to speak up, afraid to refuse, because the bills came every month like a hand choking our throats. “Penny, don’t resign, and don’t apologize,” I said, forcing myself to sit up despite the stinging pain. “Write down everything you saw and heard today. Write it with timestamps and email it to your personal account. Don’t just leave it on your phone.” Penny wiped her face. “Okay. I will.” That afternoon, Vivian, the HR Director, arrived at the hospital. She didn’t bring flowers or a gift basket. She only brought a maternity leave approval form. “Kelly, your leave has been approved. It starts today.” Liam took the form. “Why today? Why not yesterday?” Vivian looked uncomfortable. “She was still on the clock yesterday.” “She was holding a doctor’s notice, begging to leave.” I looked at Vivian. “Vivian, you warned Mike in the system yesterday, didn’t you?” Vivian’s lips trembled. “I did.” “Then why didn’t you push back harder?” She lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening around her leather portfolio. “I have a job to keep, too.” Martha let out a bitter laugh. “Everyone has a job to keep, so my daughter-in-law’s life is the only thing that’s cheap?” Vivian’s face drained of color. Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Tina stood there, holding a fruit basket, her eyes red. “Kelly, I came to see the baby.” Before she could take a step inside, Liam blocked her path. “Get out.”

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1 The green light flashed as I reached the crosswalk. I hesitated while Darcy and Owen dashed across. Red trapped me at the curb. They never looked back. A black car hissed past, mud spattering my pants. I blinked, stunned, then stepped away. I had always been half a beat behind, last to drop my fork and lagging on group walks. In school, they fretted over my grades. One drilled math while the other took notes until their heads bent close, bickering over a geometry line all afternoon. I sat mute beside them. Apartment hunting, they linked arms, comparing commutes and sunlight. Owen swung Darcy’s bag as she laughed. I trailed, watching their backs. Only those in sync caught the same green light. The slow waited alone. The signal changed. I stepped forward. If we could not walk together, I would walk alone. … By the time I reached the apartment, they were already inside, exploring the rooms. Seeing me enter, Darcy’s face tightened with impatience. “What took you so long? Owen and I are almost done looking. If you were any slower, the agent would have gone off work.” Owen poked his head out from the kitchen, quickly walking over to Darcy’s side and gently patting her shoulder. “Stop yelling at Shawn. He’s always walked slow. Can’t you show some patience?” I looked down at the dark mud stains on my trousers. “You guys just walk too fast.” Owen let out a cheerful laugh, pointing toward the open balcony. “Well, at least you’re here now. Look at this balcony; it’s beautiful. Planting some lisianthus flowers here would look amazing, perfect for photos.” Darcy followed his gaze, letting out a soft chuckle. “Lisianthus are incredibly hard to keep alive. With your three-minute attention span, they wouldn’t survive a week. Better to grow mint; at least we can use it for cocktails.” “Who says I can’t keep them alive? I’m going to plant lisianthus!” “Fine. When they wither, don’t expect me to replant them for you.” They bickered back and forth, their voices filled with a comfortable, intimate familiarity, looking exactly like a young couple planning their first home together. But I was the one renting the apartment. I was the one who would be paying the rent. Yet, they had already bypassed me entirely, deciding the fate of the balcony and even assuming I would definitely live here. Looking at the empty concrete floor, a sudden wave of apathy washed over me. I didn’t even want to plant a single blade of grass here anymore. The bitter taste of being ignored crept up my throat. I remembered a time when I had complained to Darcy about how difficult it was for me to join their conversations. She hadn’t even looked up from her phone. “You’re always sitting there like a mute. How is anyone supposed to constantly cater to your quiet moods?” I took a deep breath, stepping forward to bridge the distance between us. “Actually, I think a cactus would be nice too,” I said, trying to keep my voice light and cheerful. “Because when a cactus gets heartbroken, it turns into a round little ball because it cries so hard all its needles fall off.” It was a silly, outdated joke I had read in an old magazine the night before. The moment the words left my mouth, the playful bickering stopped, and the room plunged into an awkward, suffocating silence. Perhaps because I was always slow, even my jokes were hopelessly outdated. Five seconds passed. Owen was the first to react, breaking the silence with a sudden burst of laughter. “Darcy, that was freezing. That joke is even colder than the time you fell into the snowbank in Iceland.” Darcy’s eyes instantly crinkled with warmth at his words. “And whose brilliant idea was it to drag me into the backcountry for skiing? I was the one who had to dig you out of that hole.” “Haha, you were covered in snow from head to toe, looking at least ten years older. If you end up an old maid because of that, don’t expect me to marry you!” They laughed freely, their joy unreserved. I remembered how she had promised to take me to see the Northern Lights once we graduated, then pushed it back to when our careers settled, and then told me to wait until her next vacation. I had waited and waited, only to find out she had already gone with Owen. “Iceland?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “When did you go?” The laughter stopped instantly. Darcy’s expression smoothed over into a cool, dismissive mask. “Last winter. You were away on a photography shoot.” Was I away on a shoot, or did they deliberately plan the trip for when I was gone? Owen waved his hand quickly. “It’s in the past, no big deal. Let’s focus on the apartment.” They moved on, their mutual silence closing the topic with perfect coordination. The damp, muddy trousers clung to my skin, making every second I stood there feel like an eternity. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going home. We can look at apartments another time.” As I turned to leave, I heard Darcy’s low, irritated whisper behind me. “Throwing another tantrum. He’s completely spoiled.” I returned to our shared apartment alone. I slipped on my slippers and went into the bathroom, using a wet wipe to gently clean the dried mud from my trousers. The motion-sensor light above flickered on and then died, leaving me in the dark. Only when the water in the sink overflowed, spilling cold droplets onto my bare feet, did my slow brain register the mess and reach out to turn off the faucet. I was always half a beat behind. But it hadn’t always been this way. When I was seven, Darcy had dragged me into a torrential downpour for two hours just to catch a cicada. I had suffered a raging fever for a day and a night, nearly damaging my brain. From that day on, my reflexes were permanently slower than the rest of the world. My older sister, Valerie, had been so furious she wanted to beat Darcy. The young Darcy had knelt by my bedside, her face drenched in tears as she sobbed, “Valerie, you can hit me! It’s all my fault! Just please don’t take Shawn away. I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to him. I’ll never let him suffer a single day of unhappiness.” I believed her. And my sister believed her too. So, when Valerie took over our family’s international business and moved abroad, she left me to live with Darcy’s family. In the beginning, Darcy had kept her promise. Back when my hair was long, I was too slow and clumsy to hold the heavy blow dryer steady. She would always take it from my hands, her slender fingers gently running through my hair, checking to make sure the air wasn’t too hot. “It’s okay if our Shawn is slow. I have all the time in the world to wait for you.” But now, she had run out of time. A few days ago, under the exact same circumstances, water was dripping from my hair onto the floor. She hadn’t reached for the dryer. Instead, she had simply tossed a dry towel at my chest, her brow furrowed with a deep, unconscious irritation. “Shawn, you’re twenty-three, not three. Can’t you learn to be a bit more independent like Owen? He carried a water jug up six flights of stairs the other day without a single complaint. You can’t cling to me forever. Move out into your own place for a while and learn how to be an adult.” Patience, it seemed, was a resource easily worn away by time. The person who had once sworn to spend her life making things up to me now found me to be nothing but a nuisance. And that was why I had gone to look at apartments today. I dried my hands, walked into the living room, and sat down on the sofa. I pulled my camera from my bag. It was one of the few things I truly owned, and the tool I used for my photography work. I spun the dial, clicking through the playback menu. The screen illuminated my face in the dark room as I slowly scrolled backward, image by image. I was the one who had pressed the shutter on every single one of them. The compositions were steady, the lighting captured beautifully. But the subjects were always the same. Darcy and Owen laughing by the window of a chic cafe. Darcy and Owen clinking their glasses together by a cozy campfire. Owen gently reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from Darcy’s eyes. There were over three hundred photos stored on the memory card, and I was permanently frozen behind the lens, invisible. In the life that belonged to Darcy, my only role was to record her moments with someone else. I wasn’t in her photos. And naturally, I had no place in her future. Darcy didn’t return until late in the afternoon. She tossed her car keys onto the entryway table, the metal clinking sharply against the wood. “Shawn, what exactly is your problem?” she asked, walking over to stand in front of me with her arms crossed. “Owen spent four afternoons running around, calling in favors just to find a place that suited you. What are you so unhappy about?” “Leaving like that just because you ‘didn’t feel well’… do you have any idea how awkward you made things for him?” “I don’t have a problem with the apartment,” I said slowly. “Then why did you look so miserable? He spent the entire day worrying about you, so guilty he couldn’t even eat dinner.” So Owen hadn’t eaten dinner, and she had rushed back to demand justice on his behalf. Last month, when my acute gastroenteritis had flared up so badly I was curled double on the sofa, she had only sent a brief text: Drink some hot water. I have to play cards with some clients tonight. Order some medicine through a delivery app. I pressed the delete button on my camera, erasing every single photo on the card. “I just felt like… that apartment wasn’t being chosen for me.” She let out a cold scoff. “Shawn, stop being so paranoid and bitter. Do you think everyone is as idle as you, sitting at home all day looking for things to complain about?” “I’ve booked a restaurant for tomorrow lunch. You’re going to come and apologize to him, and we’re going to put this behind us.” I stared at her for a few silent seconds. My girlfriend was furious because I hadn’t managed to protect the feelings of another man. “Darcy, let’s break up.” Darcy’s expression froze. A flash of genuine shock crossed her eyes, quickly replaced by a look of sheer amusement. “Break up?” “Shawn, do you really think you can threaten me with that? With your slow, helpless brain, where would you even go without me?” “I’m not threatening you.” Darcy turned away, tossing her bag onto the sofa. “Fine, stop acting childish. I’ll text you the restaurant address. Make sure you’re on time.” She walked into the bathroom without looking back, and the sound of running water soon filled the apartment, shutting my voice out completely behind the frosted glass door. The next day, I went to the restaurant anyway. Owen really had spent a lot of time helping me look at apartments, and my upbringing dictated that a proper “thank you” was still necessary. When I pushed open the door to the private room, they were already there. They were sitting side-by-side on one side of the long table, their heads close together as they laughed at something on a phone screen. A table set for three always had a cruel geometry. They sat so close their shoulders were practically touching. And I was left to pull out the single chair opposite them, sitting down like an uninvited guest at a private meeting. “Shawn, you’re here!” Owen greeted me with a bright smile. “Darcy said you were throwing a fit and might not show up. No need to apologize, we’re all friends here. It’s no big deal, let’s just move past it.” “Thank you,” I said softly, keeping my eyes on the table. In front of Darcy and Owen sat two tall, condensation-beaded glasses of iced lemon tea. In front of me, there was nothing. In the past, whenever we ate out, she would always make sure a cup of warm tea was waiting for me the moment I sat down, knowing my weak stomach couldn’t handle ice. Now, she couldn’t even remember to order a glass of water for me. “I’ll go grab something to drink,” I said, rising from the table. I walked to the front counter and ordered a hot milk. As I waited for the drink to be prepared, I turned to walk back to the room. Just as I rounded the corner, a waiter carrying a heavy, piping-hot clay pot of soup came rushing toward me. “Watch out!” I heard the warning. But my reflexes were always half a beat behind. By the time my foot took a single inch of a step backward, the boiling liquid had already cascaded down. Most of the scalding soup poured directly onto my shins and the tops of my feet. An agonizing, searing pain instantly ripped through my skin. My brain went entirely blank, and my body froze, locking me in place. The door to the private room opened, and Darcy and Owen stepped out. She didn’t rush forward to help me. Instead, she let out a light laugh. “Shawn, when are you going to fix that slow reaction time? You’re a grown man, how do you not even know how to dodge a waiter?” Owen stood beside her, joining in on her laughter. “Seriously, Shawn, you’re too much. If that were me, I would have leaped out of the way in a second. Your reflexes are slower than a sloth’s.” Darcy chimed in, “If he had even half of your quickness, I wouldn’t have to spend every waking hour worrying about him.” The skin on my legs was already beginning to swell into angry, red blisters, the burning pain radiating deep into my bones. Back in high school, I had tripped on the track, scraping a tiny patch of skin on my knee that barely even bled. Darcy had run faster than the gym teacher to reach me, her face pale as she helped me up, her hands trembling so hard she could barely hold a cotton swab in the nurse’s office. “You can’t even walk straight,” she had scolded me, her voice shaking. “What are you going to do if I’m ever not around?” Owen had also patted my shoulder, promising to keep an eye on me whenever we ran. But now, as they stared at my blistering skin, they only found my clumsy pain amusing. I looked up, meeting her eyes. “Is this funny to you?” The laughter faded slightly from Darcy’s face. “It was just a joke, Shawn. Do you have to take everything so seriously?” Owen chimed in, “Yeah, Shawn, I was just trying to lighten the mood. Don’t be mad. When I burned myself cooking before, I just put some toothpaste on it and was fine. It’s really no big deal.” Darcy let out an impatient sigh. “You heard him. Go to the bathroom and run some cold water over it. Stop standing there making a scene.” I took a taxi to the city hospital by myself. After the doctor had finished cleaning and bandaging my burns, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my sister. Valerie, is your offer for me to come to Los Angeles to help you still open? Her reply came almost instantly. Of course it is! I’ve kept a room ready for you. Did that girl Darcy do something to you? My throat tightened, and I blinked back tears. I just really, really miss you. I returned to the apartment and began packing my suitcase. As I worked, I noticed that the moisture-proof box I kept in the corner of the closet was empty. Inside was the only keepsake my mother had left me: an extremely rare, out-of-production roll of Kodak film that had inspired my dream of becoming a photographer. The front door opened, and Darcy walked in. Seeing my bandaged leg, her brow furrowed slightly. “What did you do? You look like a mummy.” She knelt down, her fingers gently touching my ankle. “Try to look where you’re going next time. Once this busy season is over, I’ll take you to Iceland to see the Northern Lights, okay? Stop looking so miserable all the time, no one owes you anything.” I pulled my leg back, out of her reach. “Where is my film?” Her hand froze in mid-air. She stood up, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crushed, bent metal canister. “Since you treasured it so much, Owen and I decided to hide it. We were going to give it back once you got worried, to give you a surprise.” “But the metal was so old. When Owen tried to pull it open to look, he accidentally tore the film.” My hands shook as I took the canister and opened the lid. The delicate film inside had been completely pulled out of its casing, entirely exposed to the light. It was torn clean in two. It was the only remaining memory of my mother, something I would hold and look at on the nights when insomnia gripped me, missing her. My voice shook uncontrollably. “Do you have any idea how important that was to me?” “I know, but he didn’t do it on purpose.” She reached into her shopping bag and pulled out two brand-new, expensive rolls of film, placing them on the table. “No matter how important that old film was, can it really be more important than my relationship with Owen? I went out of my way to buy these rare replacements at a premium for you.” I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. The force of the blow turned her head to the side. She froze, completely stunned. When I was seventeen, I had accidentally lost a cheap lens cap worth a few dollars. Darcy had spent three hours with a flashlight in the dark schoolyard grass, searching until she found it. She had told me back then, “Anything that belongs to Shawn, no matter how small, is a treasure.” But now, she had personally helped destroy my most precious memory. Darcy slowly turned her head back, her grip clamping onto my wrist with sudden, terrifying strength. “Shawn, are you out of your mind!” She pulled me roughly into her chest, locking her arms around me. “Let go of me!” I struggled. “Stop acting up!” she commanded, her arms tightening until I could barely breathe. “That film is already in the past! You have to learn to look forward, do you understand?” I stopped struggling, letting my arms hang limp at my sides. My tears slipped silently down, soaking into her collar. Yes, she was right. It was all in the past. Including her. I cried quietly, the silent tears flowing until my eyes felt dry and the sharp ache in my chest finally subsided. Darcy’s hand gently stroked my back. Only when she felt my muscles finally relax did she slowly loosen her grip. “You still have me,” she whispered softly. I didn’t answer her. I turned back to the bedroom to continue packing. Darcy followed me, her voice turning cold. “What are you doing?” “Packing my things.” “Are you playing the run-away-from-home game again?” “You were the one who told me to learn from Owen and be independent. I’m moving into the rental tomorrow.” She opened her mouth to argue, but stopped, remembering that she had indeed been the one to suggest I move out. After a long silence, she spoke quietly. “Let’s sleep in the same bed tonight. Since it’s your last night here.” We hadn’t slept in the same bed for months. She had complained that my slow lifestyle affected her sleep, and that my tossing and turning disturbed her work the next day. She had told me, “Shawn, you need to learn to be independent, not like a child who needs someone to hold him to sleep.” So I had moved into the guest bedroom, and I had stayed there for half a year. I didn’t argue. That night, Darcy wrapped her arms around my waist from behind. In the dark, I kept my eyes wide open, staring at the neon lights of the city glittering through the window. “Darcy, if I truly learn to be independent, will you be happy?” “Of course,” she answered without hesitation, her tone carrying a wave of relief. “I can’t wait.” Yet, the arm wrapped around my waist tightened its grip just a fraction. The next morning, I changed into fresh clothes and rolled my suitcase to the entrance. Darcy put on her coat, reaching out to take the handle of my bag. “I’ll help you move.” Before her hand could touch the metal bar, the phone in her pocket began to ring. It was Owen, his voice bright and excited over the speaker. “Darcy! That new sci-fi movie is premiering today, and I managed to snag two tickets! Come watch it with me!” That was the movie we had promised to see together three months ago. Darcy glanced at me, then accepted his invitation, hanging up the phone and heading for the door in a rush. “Take a cab to move your things first. I’ll go watch the movie with him, and we’ll come find you at your new place later.” “Okay,” I said quietly. Once the door clicked shut behind her, I called a cab and headed straight for the airport. I dialed my sister’s number. “Valerie, make sure you’re there to pick me up.” Her warm, laughing voice came through the line. “Don’t worry, little brother. Have I ever forgotten anything that concerns you?”

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1 In the third year of my marriage to Gabriel Mercer, I was hit by a car while riding my bicycle. Even as a sharp, agonizing pain radiated through my leg, I forced myself not to call him. He was a Major General, a man of high standing whose duties meant he could not take personal calls during work hours. The woman who had hit me was sobbing, holding onto my handlebars to keep me from leaving. “My boyfriend is on his way. Please wait, we will definitely give you a solution you are happy with.” But when the black military SUV with the high-ranking plates pulled up behind her, my entire body went rigid. Gabriel got out of the vehicle, immediately wrapping his uniform jacket around the crying woman’s shoulders, his voice filled with a rare, gentle concern. “I am late. Are you hurt?” It was only then that I realized Gabriel’s phone was not off to everyone during work hours. It was just that his emergency contact list was reserved for the girl from his past. He frowned, his gaze dropping to my bleeding knee, staring at it for a long, silent moment. The woman, Hannah, looked between us with a hesitant glance. “Do you two know each other?” Before Gabriel could speak, I cut in. “We don’t.” After all, in the contract he had handed me three years ago, the very first clause dictated a strictly hidden marriage. Now, our three-year agreement was about to expire. I was already preparing to leave. … I had always known Gabriel had someone else in his heart, but I never imagined it would be the very woman who had just run me over. When Gabriel first arrived, I had frozen, instinctively assuming he was there for me. But Hannah had already scrambled to her feet, running straight into his arms. “Gabriel, what do I do? I hit someone.” The man draped his heavy service jacket over her shoulders, his voice as calm and steady as ever. “I will handle it.” I slowly pulled my gaze away, staring down at the raw, scraping wound on my knee. The pieces finally fell into place, explaining why Gabriel had barely been coming home lately. His childhood love, Hannah, had returned to the country. Hannah stepped back from his chest, turning to offer me a bright, privileged smile. “My boyfriend is here now. Whatever compensation you want, just speak to his assistant.” “I am so sorry for delaying your commute and causing this injury. Please, don’t hesitate to ask for what you need. My boyfriend is highly capable, he will make sure it is taken care of.” I offered a quiet thank you, but Gabriel’s assistant, who was standing nearby, looked incredibly uncomfortable. He was one of the very few who knew about our hidden marriage. He stammered, looking at my leg. “Mrs… I mean, ma’am, why is your wound still bleeding so heavily? It has been half an hour since the accident. Do you have a coagulation issue?” “Just a minor one,” I replied, nodding. Gabriel’s head snapped toward me, his voice dropping an octave. “Clotting issues?” Hannah looked confused. “What’s wrong?” He did not seem to hear her, his eyes locked onto my bleeding knee, his brow furrowed in a tight line. Hannah finally sensed the tension, looking between Gabriel and me with growing suspicion. “Do you two know each other?” Before Gabriel could find his voice, I answered for him. “We don’t.” As expected, he looked satisfied with my quick thinking. He took Hannah’s hand, offering a casual instruction to his assistant before they walked away. “Take her to the clinic.” I watched their retreating figures, swallowing the faint bitterness in my throat. There were exactly two months left before our contract expired, and it was time for me to start packing. 2 Our convenience marriage had been remarkably straightforward. Back then, I desperately needed tuition for graduate school. Through a mutual acquaintance, I ended up signing a contract with Gabriel. On our wedding day, there was no ceremony, no rings, and no vows, only a legal document. He needed a sham marriage to satisfy his family’s constant pressure, and I needed the financial security. The terms were simple: keep the marriage hidden, and occasionally play the doting wife at family dinners. We had no marital obligations, no responsibility toward each other, and I was even free to date as long as I kept it out of the public eye. I was paid three thousand dollars a month. Once the three years were up, I would receive a three-million-dollar exit fee. At the time, Hannah was studying abroad, and I had no idea she even existed. I had absolutely no reason to refuse the offer. After we married, Gabriel kept me close, teaching me how to navigate his world. I learned to play the role of the perfect General’s wife, selecting his suits, managing his social calendar, and dealing with difficult politicians. Once, at a high-profile gala, a corrupt local commissioner tried to touch me. Gabriel, who usually kept his emotions entirely under wraps, kicked the man’s knee so hard he buckled. He then shoved a heavy wine bottle into my hand, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his deep voice vibrating against my ear. “Do you know what I am teaching you today?” Enveloped by his cold, woody cologne, I tried to keep my breathing steady. “You are teaching me to negotiate from a position of strength, to maintain boundaries…” He caught my wrist, lifting my hand with the bottle. “My dear, this isn’t a textbook problem. Don’t be so formal.” “It’s just a fight.” With a sickening crack, the bottle shattered over the commissioner’s head. My palm went numb from the impact. Gabriel pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket, gently wiping the sweat from my hands. “Don’t forget this. I am your backing.” “Don’t let anyone else bully you.” I had quickly pulled my hand away, muttering a hasty thank you before escaping to the restroom. If I had stayed a second longer, the affection in my eyes would have given me away. Perhaps it was the thrill of a first love, or perhaps Gabriel’s occasional indulgence made me lose my head. I moved into his villa, spending every evening waiting by the window for his headlights to appear in the driveway. Until the night of a major victory banquet. He came home heavily intoxicated, supported by a female subordinate. His arm was slung over her shoulder, their faces mere inches apart. “Mrs. Mercer, please step aside,” the woman said, her voice laced with a subtle disdain. “I need to help the General inside.” I remained where I was, extending my hands toward him. “I can take my husband from here.” Before I could close the door, the secretary let out a soft laugh. “As the General’s wife, you should learn to be more accommodating. If you get jealous over every little thing, you’ll end up miserable.” I had not realized that Gabriel was still somewhat conscious, nor did I know he had heard the entire exchange. Later, when I brought a bowl of hangover soup to the living room, he was lying on the sofa, his eyes remarkably clear as he stared at me. I set the bowl down. “Since you are awake, drink some of this. It will help.” Gabriel did not touch the bowl. Instead, he asked, “Do you know why I never let you into my study?” The lingering annoyance in my chest vanished, replaced by curiosity. I shook my head. He stood up, refusing my assistance, and led me toward the locked room. When he pushed the door open, a massive oil painting met my eyes. A young girl, barely sixteen, stood in a field of wildflowers, her eyes closed as she breathed in the scent of a blossom, her face half-hidden. It was the reason I had not immediately recognized Hannah when we finally met in person. Gabriel leaned against the doorframe, lighting a cigarette. “I have loved her since I was seventeen. It has been ten years.” “If we hadn’t quarreled before she left, she would be the one standing here with me today.” His tone was conversational, yet each word felt like a physical blow to my chest. Before I could process the pain, he drove the point home. “I cannot give you the affection you are looking for, Darla. Do not develop feelings you shouldn’t have.” “I will be adding an amendment to our contract,” he continued, his tone entirely businesslike. “If you cannot manage your emotions and cross the boundary, it will be considered a breach of contract. You will lose your compensation and face a heavy penalty.” The hallway light cast a long, narrow shadow across the floor of the dark study. I stood there, frozen, recalling a comment Gabriel had once made about greedy associates. They hover at the boundaries, always testing the limits. It is incredibly off-putting. That night, I became the person who disgusted him. Gabriel left the room shortly after. I stood in the dark until the first light of dawn broke through the window, the cold air finally clearing the fog from my chest. From that day on, I managed myself perfectly. I kept my distance, offering him nothing but polite, professional respect. And slowly, the feelings faded to nothing. 3 My leg wound was dressed at a local clinic, and after taking a day off, I went straight to the hospital to visit my mother. She had been diagnosed with a rare brain tumor, and there were only a couple of specialists in the country capable of performing the surgery. She was constantly worrying about the cost, pleading with me to let her check out. I popped a slice of fresh pear into her mouth. “Absolutely not. You fainted the last time you went for a scan. I heard that Dr. Bennett, the leading neurosurgeon, is coming to our local hospital next month.” Our physician had promised to secure a slot for us if the rumors were true. The thought of my mother recovering made my steps lighter as I went down to the cafeteria, but the head nurse stopped me in the corridor. “Darla, about the private suite we reserved for your mother… a new patient with heavy backing just arrived and took it.” The nurse sighed, lowering her voice. “I heard her boyfriend is a Major General. He pulled some serious strings…” Almost at the same moment, I saw a flash of white fabric near the stairwell, identical to the sundress Hannah had been wearing that morning. I pulled my gaze back, offering a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, Nurse. The room doesn’t matter. I just want my mother to get her surgery.” When I returned to the villa that afternoon, Gabriel was sitting on the sofa. It was unusual for him to be home at this hour instead of accompanying Hannah. I offered a polite nod. “Major General.” I turned to head to my room, but his voice stopped me. “How is your knee?” “Dressed and healing. It is fine,” I replied. Gabriel set his coffee cup down, checking his watch. “We need to go to my parents’ house for dinner tonight. Are you free?” According to our contract, I had to make myself available for family events. I nodded. “Yes.” I selected a classic designer outfit, applied my makeup, and ensured I looked every bit the elegant wife of a military officer. When we arrived at the Mercer estate, I automatically slipped my hand through his arm, greeting his family with practiced warmth. During dinner, Gabriel’s mother looked at us expectantly. “Have you two started trying for a baby yet?” I choked on my soup, coughing into my napkin. Gabriel reached over, handing me a glass of water while gently patting my back. “Darla is still young.” His mother frowned. “She is twenty-five. It is the perfect time to start thinking about these things.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, offering a quiet nod. “I understand, Mother.” A violent rainstorm broke out that evening, forcing us to stay the night. We shared the master suite, sleeping under separate blankets. After three years, the arrangement was familiar and comfortable. When I came out of the bathroom in my silk gown and sat on the vanity bench to apply ointment to my knee, Gabriel looked over. “I am sorry I couldn’t take you to the clinic myself the other day.” He looked tense, as if struggling to explain his relationship with Hannah. I cut him off gently. “It is fine, Major General. Our contract doesn’t require you to take care of me. You don’t need to explain.” “Whatever is going on between you and Miss Hannah is your business. I will continue to play my part until our contract ends in two months.” He raised his eyes, staring at me. “Two months?” It seemed he had forgotten the date. “Yes,” I reminded him. “In two months, our agreement expires, and we can finalize the divorce.” Gabriel set his wine glass down, his voice cool and detached. “You certainly have the date memorized.” He turned and walked into the bathroom, ending the conversation. 4 A few weeks later, my mother’s physician called with incredible news: he had managed to secure a consultation slot with Dr. Bennett. For the next two weeks, I spent every evening after work at the hospital. One afternoon, as I stepped into the elevator, the doors began to close before being held open. Gabriel and Hannah walked in. Hannah did not recognize me from our brief encounter, her eyes scanning right past me. Gabriel hesitated for a fraction of a second but said nothing. As the elevator rose, Hannah clung to his arm, her voice sweet and filled with affection. “Thank you, my amazing boyfriend, for sorting out everything for my mother. Now we just have to wait for the results.” “How should I thank you? Maybe I’ll let you take me out to dinner tonight.” I kept my eyes glued to the floor indicator, waiting. “What do you want to eat?” Gabriel’s deep voice finally replied. “Let’s go to your place. I want your homemade pasta!” The elevator dinged at my floor. I stepped out into the quiet corridor, realizing I would need to find a hotel tonight. After feeding my mother, I booked a room at a nearby boutique hotel. I showered and fell into a deep sleep, exhausted from the long day. Sometime during the night, my phone rang. I answered it sleepily. “Hello?” “When are you coming home?” Gabriel’s voice came through the receiver. “I made dinner. I am waiting for you.” I buried my face deeper into the pillow. “Aren’t you with Hannah?” “I didn’t want to get in your way… so I got a hotel room for the night…” The line went silent before Gabriel’s voice dropped, carrying a distinct edge of displeasure. “Send me your location. I am coming to pick you up.” I was too tired to care about his authority. “No, Gabriel. I am already asleep. Don’t bother me.” He remained silent for a few seconds before his tone softened, carrying a hint of amusement. “You have quite the temper when you’re tired, don’t you?” Without the barrier of my usual professional restraint, I simply let out an annoyed sigh. I heard a soft chuckle from the other end of the line. “Alright, go back to sleep. I won’t disturb you.” The call disconnected, and I drifted back into a heavy sleep. The next morning, the conversation felt like a dream. When Gabriel called again, I assumed he was going to reprimand me for my lack of respect. I kept my tone carefully polite. “Is there something you need, Major General?” There was a long pause before he spoke, his tone completely flat. “Nothing. I simply forgot to ask what you were doing at the hospital yesterday.” “My mother is admitted,” I replied casually. “But it is nothing serious. She will be discharged soon.” “If you need any assistance, contact my chief of staff directly,” he said. I thanked him politely, though I had no intention of doing so. His position was sensitive, and I was not about to involve military personnel in my personal matters. The contract dictated that I keep my distance, and I intended to honor it. The silence stretched, yet he did not hang up. “Major General? Is there anything else?” I could hear the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against his mahogany desk, a habit of his when he was deep in thought. “I was just wondering what time you usually take your afternoon nap,” he said. I blinked, entirely thrown off. Before I could process the question, he added, “I will make sure to call you during those hours from now on.” I had no idea what he was playing at. Was this some new method of torment? Dr. Bennett was scheduled to arrive on the seventeenth, with a very limited three-hour window for consultations. We had secured the very last slot. Gabriel had been deployed to a training exercise in the north and was not expected back for a week. Whenever I saw Hannah at the hospital during those days, she was always alone. On the morning of the seventeenth, I saw her chatting with the receptionist at the nurse’s station, eating an apple with a relaxed, casual air. “My mother’s results are only partially back, but the director told me not to worry,” she was saying. The nurse looked up from her paperwork, offering a polite smile. “That is good news. Perhaps you should take a walk? We are preparing for Dr. Bennett’s arrival this afternoon.” Hannah paused, her interest piqued. “Dr. Bennett? Who is that?” “The leading neurosurgeon in the country. His slots have been booked for months.” “But your mother’s case doesn’t require a specialist of his caliber,” the nurse explained. Hannah took a slow bite of her apple, her eyes narrowing. “I see…” A sudden chill of unease washed over me, but I tried to brush it off. Hannah’s mother did not have a brain tumor; surely she would not take a critical slot from someone who actually needed it. But my hope was shattered. At two o’clock that afternoon, our physician called me into his office, his face incredibly grim. “The slot is gone.” The words felt like a physical blow, leaving my ears ringing. “Major General Mercer’s girlfriend claimed it, using her military dependent priority,” the doctor said, his brow furrowed. “I tried to explain that her mother’s condition is standard, but she insisted she wanted the absolute best opinion.” I leaned against the wall to keep my balance. “Can we request an extra slot?” “Impossible. Dr. Bennett is flying out for an international conference at five.” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms to keep from breaking down. I immediately dialed Gabriel’s number, but as always, the call went straight to his secure line’s automated busy signal. With no time to lose, I took a taxi back to the villa, grabbed our marriage certificate, and rushed back to the hospital. I marched straight into the director’s office. Before he could speak, I set the document on his desk, my chest heaving. “I am Gabriel Mercer’s legal wife. You can verify the registration.” “I am not here to steal anyone’s slot. I am simply taking back the one that belonged to my mother.” The slot was restored. Once the consultation was finished and the surgery date was locked in, the heavy weight in my chest finally lifted. I asked the director and the physicians to keep my identity quiet, but Hannah was persistent. As I walked out of the hospital that evening, she blocked my path, staring at me before her eyes crinkled into a sharp, mocking smile. “I remember you. You’re the girl from the bicycle accident. No wonder Gabriel was so focused on your clotting issue.” “I didn’t take your mother’s slot, Hannah,” I said quietly, looking down. “I can explain my relationship with Gabriel.” She had no interest in listening, extending her hand. “Just show me the certificate.” Her voice carried a distinct threat. “Otherwise, I will make sure your mother has a very difficult time staying in this hospital, let alone getting her surgery.” With no other choice, I showed her the document. Hannah stared at it, her smile widening into something cold. She immediately pulled out her phone and dialed Gabriel’s number. The call was answered almost instantly. With tears welling in her eyes, she looked straight at me. “Gabriel, you have a wife.” A brief silence followed before Gabriel’s voice came through. “Who told you that?” “How could you treat me like this?” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “We are done.” She hung up the phone and turned to leave. I took a step forward, but she did not look back, her voice dripping with venom. “Don’t you dare follow me.” “Enabling your husband’s affair makes you just as pathetic, Darla. Don’t make me get my hands dirty in public.”

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1 It was the third year of my self-imposed exile in the wilderness, living on a deserted island to keep Silas company, far away from human society. His severe autism made the world a hostile place for him. He still only tolerated my presence, refusing to let anyone else set foot on the shore. He remained the same as he had always been: expressionless, quiet, and completely averse to any form of physical contact. Until today, when the tide washed a woman onto our beach. By the time I found them, his face was flushed red with embarrassment as he desperately pressed his lips to hers, performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Over the next two weeks, I watched him lead her through every corner of the sanctuary we had built with our own hands. “This is the shelter. I tore it down and rebuilt it seven times.” “This is the garden. We grow lettuce and cucumbers here.” “This is where we fish. The water purifier is kept here too.” Finally, sitting under the glow of the campfire, he looked at her with a depth of emotion I had never seen and asked, “Sherry, the world out there is filthy. Stay here with me, okay?” I stared blankly at the sudden warmth in Silas’s face, a bitter, hollow ache spreading through my chest. In that moment, I finally understood. Someone had actually succeeded in breaking through his shell. But that person wasn’t me. Sherry ignored Silas, turning her head to look at me instead. “Lyra, why are you so quiet?” I sat on a log, preparing to speak, but Silas cut in with sudden, desperate urgency. “What is it about this place that you don’t like? I can have the Harrisons remodel the entire island. A massive villa with a swimming pool? A beautiful botanical garden? Just name it.” Silas had always loved the raw state of nature, detesting any form of modern technology that could corrupt the environment. Before we came to the island, his grandfather had insisted on building a sturdy concrete house for us. Silas had rejected the offer flatly. Shortly after we arrived, the rainy season hit. My clothes were perpetually damp, clinging to my skin. By the tenth day of a raging fever, I didn’t even have the strength to stand. Yet, all Silas had said back then was, “Once the shelter is built, it will be better.” Sherry let out a soft laugh. “Silas, you already have Lyra here to keep you company. Why would I stay? Besides, I get the feeling she dislikes me. I don’t think she wants me here.” Silas frowned, turning his head to glare at me with cold accusation. “You hate her?” Before I could even attempt to explain, he turned back to Sherry, his eyes fixed on her with an eager intensity. “This is my island. Don’t you know who the Harrisons are? We are the wealthiest family in the country.” He was practically desperate to display his fortune, showing off his lineage like a peacock fanning its feathers. Suddenly, it felt as though a clump of wet cotton was wedged in my throat. It had taken me ten long years of patience to understand Silas’s habits and his way of speaking. Sherry had demolished all of it in just two weeks. Over the past few days, Silas had initiated twenty-seven satellite calls to his grandfather. Every single one of them was for Sherry’s sake. Helicopters, which he usually despised for their loud engines, began arriving one after another. They brought fresh cakes, gourmet milk tea, and even luxury clothes and designer jewelry. They erected one elaborate, high-end tent after another on the beach, all reserved exclusively for her. I blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill. I simply couldn’t believe Silas could fall for someone this easily. The satellite phone vibrated in my pocket. I stood up silently and walked a short distance away to answer it. It was his grandfather, Charles Harrison. Lately, he had been calling every day to ask about Silas’s condition, and I had reported everything to him honestly. Charles let out a booming laugh over the receiver. “Lyra, my boy Silas wants to keep Sherry on the island! He’s actually in love! I can’t believe how blunt he is when he tries to win a girl over!” His voice carried the same excited warmth as the time he first saw Silas kiss me. That had happened right after we finished building our very first crude shelter, which was so poorly made it leaked when it rained. Silas had been so ecstatic he spun me around three times and pressed a quick, clumsy kiss to my lips. My heart had nearly stopped beating in that moment. The old man on the line paused suddenly, realizing that I was still Silas’s fiancée. His tone quickly shifted to one of quiet comfort. “Lyra, I know Silas used to care for you deeply. He used to accompany you to the hospital every single day just to be near you. And when you two got into that car accident, he nearly lost his life trying to shield you. But love is a strange thing; it has no rhyme or reason. Maybe what he felt for you was just the affection of a sibling. If he truly loves Sherry, we should dissolve the engagement. I will compensate you, of course. I’ll officially adopt you as his sister.” I remembered when Charles had held my hand years ago, telling me how grateful he was to have me, wishing I could stay by Silas’s side forever. “Grandfather,” I said softly, “the medical expenses your family pays for my mother’s treatment are more than enough. I’ll stay for another two weeks. If… if things don’t change, I will leave the island on my own.” I was ten years old when I first met Silas. He had always rejected everyone, but for some reason, he would sit quietly in my mother’s hospital room, listening to me babble happily about school. When Charles discovered this, he immediately transferred my leukemia-stricken mother to a private wing and hired the best specialists. In exchange, I became Silas’s shadow. We ate together, studied together, and played together. He hated speaking, so I did all the talking. He couldn’t fit in with our classmates, so I constantly explained his behavior to others, shielding him from their cold, mocking stares. We had made a pact back then: if he managed to finish university, I would accompany him to a deserted island to escape the world for five years. But now, it was clear he no longer needed me. These days, he guided Sherry to every corner of the island, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with her, leaving no space for me to join them. Helicopters now flew in three times a day, delivering whatever Sherry wanted to eat, drink, or play with. They even transported two tons of purified water daily just so she could take comfortable showers. The plans for the villa, the pool, and the garden had already been laid out. Meanwhile, our small garden had been completely dug up by the workers. Those fruits and vegetables we had nurtured so carefully were tossed to the side, left to rot in the dirt. The mechanical roar of construction equipment was constant. Normally, Silas would have flown into a violent, shaking rage at such noise, requiring hours of gentle soothing from me to calm down. But now, he endured the discomfort willingly just to stay by her side, relaying her demands to the architects, revising the blueprints for the eight-hundredth time. His eyes remained filled with absolute indulgence whenever he looked at her. At night, Sherry would blast loud music that echoed across the entire island, pulling Silas to dance with her around the campfire. She would squeeze his chest, laughing. “Silas, you’re incredibly handsome. You’re in better shape than most movie stars.” With a sly smile, her fingers slid slowly down past his waistband. His throat bobbed, but he didn’t pull away. I couldn’t watch any longer and turned to leave, but the sound of a dry branch snapping under my foot betrayed my presence. Their eyes snapped toward me. Silas stiffened, while Sherry remained draped over him like a vine. I didn’t expect him to run after me, but he did, grabbing my wrist with a tight, frustrated grip. His brow was furrowed, his voice laced with irritation. “What are you doing? The island is huge. Do you have to keep stalking us?” “You put bugs in Sherry’s food, left a snake in her tent, and falsely accused her of pushing you into the sea. What are you planning to do this time?” It felt as if my heart was being squeezed by a cold hand. “I’ve explained to you a dozen times, I didn’t do any of those things,” I said, looking up to meet his eyes. “Silas, I’ve already told your grandfather. I’m leaving in two weeks.” But Silas only saw my departure as a childish tantrum. “Are you unhappy with the lifestyle here now? If you prefer the primitive way, you can keep living like that. But Sherry is a celebrity, she’s different from you. She’s used to being pampered. The fact that she’s willing to live on an isolated island is already incredible.” I opened my mouth, but the rest of my words died in my throat. I slowly pried his fingers off my wrist and forced a small, tired smile. “Silas, you’ve fallen for her.” He froze, his scowl deepening. “I haven’t. I was just dancing with her. I know you’re my fiancée. I’ll keep my promise and marry you when we turn twenty-five. Can you stop being so suffocating?” He was a man of very few words. In the past, I would say ten sentences and he would reply with one. Now, he was talking more than he ever had, yet he was accusing me of being suffocating. And all of it was because of Sherry. An overwhelming exhaustion washed over me. As I turned to walk away, Silas yanked my arm, throwing me off balance. I fell forward, a sharp rock jutting out directly in front of my face. I gasped, reaching back instinctively to grab him for support, but he let go. Sherry had tripped behind him. He lunged past me, catching her securely in his arms. I slammed hard against the sharp rock. A deep gash tore across my forehead, and warm blood began to trickle down my face. I looked up through the crimson haze, only to see him looking frantically at Sherry. “Sherry, are you hurt?” Sherry shook her head, her face pale as she looked at Silas. “Silas, I don’t want to cause any more misunderstandings between you two. Maybe I should be the one to leave.” I clutched my bleeding forehead. Silas didn’t give me so much as a passing glance, his words slipping out without hesitation. “I’ll have her leave the island so she can calm down.” My tears mixed with the blood dripping down my cheek. In that moment, I decided I wanted to leave immediately, just as he wished. After performing some basic first aid on my wound, I used the satellite phone to call Charles. The old man let out a delighted laugh. “Excellent! Excellent!” “Tell Sherry that if she gets pregnant, I will give her a hundred million dollars. If she gives birth to a boy, she can have whatever she desires. She doesn’t need to play those petty games anymore.” Charles had seen Sherry push me into the ocean through the satellite surveillance feeds. But he had never cared about who was right or wrong; he only cared about who could make Silas behave more like a normal human being. “You have no idea, Lyra. I’ve already had my staff edit a bunch of clips of them together. We’ll play them at their wedding.” His voice turned soft and coaxing. “Lyra, since things have turned out this way, why don’t you come back first? Let’s leave the island to the two young lovers.” The phrase young lovers felt like a needle driving straight into my heart. “Okay,” I whispered. “Grandfather, if that’s the case, you should tell Sherry yourself. I’ll leave the satellite phone with her.” I asked him to send a helicopter for me, then went back to the shelter to pack my belongings. When I entered, I found my only three sets of spare clothes shredded to pieces. Sherry was standing nearby, trying on a designer dress. She walked over, looking feigningly surprised. “Oh, Lyra, I’m so sorry. I just mentioned in passing that I needed some rags to wipe down the furniture. I had no idea Silas would go and shred your clothes.” “Why don’t you look through my wardrobe and see if there’s anything you like? I’ll give it to you as compensation.” I looked around the room. This was the shelter Silas and I had built with our own hands, the place where we had lived together for three years. The handmade clay plates and cups we had crafted were gone. Even the sacred fire we had kept burning continuously had been reduced to cold ashes. Now, the entire space was crammed with luxury clothing, expensive jewelry boxes, and a massive full-length mirror. Ignoring her insincere apology, I laid the satellite phone down on a trunk. “It’s all yours,” I said, turning to walk out. Sherry called out to me, looking at me with a smirk. “Lyra, to be honest, I really envied you. A penniless orphan almost becoming the mistress of the Harrison estate.” She let out a soft, mocking chuckle. “But don’t blame me for taking what’s yours. Silas was already sick of you. If you’re going to leave, do it quickly.” My face darkened as I gave her a cold warning. “I’ve already asked the Harrisons to investigate your background. You better pray you don’t have any skeletons in your closet.” A flash of panic crossed Sherry’s face. The next second, she raised her hand and slapped herself hard across the cheek, letting out a piercing shriek. “Lyra, please! I beg you, let me go!” She frantically disheveled her hair, tearing at her own collar just as Silas came rushing through the entrance, pulling her into his arms. “Silas, Lyra told me to stay away from you. She told me to leave the island immediately and stop seducing you, or else she’d throw me into the ocean to feed the sharks!” Silas’s eyes instantly turned red with rage as he glared at me with disgust. “Lyra, when did you become so malicious?” “I’m the one who insisted Sherry stay. If you’re angry, take it out on me!” “Apologize to her right now!” I looked at him, listening to the soft whimpering of the woman cradled in his chest. The suffocating weight of my grievances could no longer be contained. “I didn’t do anything.” Silas didn’t pay attention to my words, his harsh voice drowning me out. “Are you lying to me now too?” “And to think Sherry spent days helping me prepare a birthday gift for you, even going out of her way to have a mango cake delivered from across the country!” “Get out!” In just two short weeks, Silas had memorized Sherry’s favorite tea flavors and her preferred clothing brands. He knew what colors she liked and what flowers she adored, promising to plant a garden full of roses and lilies for her once the villa was completed. He, who had never cared for media, could even recite the names of her favorite directors, actors, and singers. Yet, he had completely forgotten that I was severely allergic to roses and mangoes. The wind swept over the cliffs, carrying away the tears from my eyes. I turned and walked away. Just as I reached the edge of the cliff to wait for the helicopter, Silas blocked my path once again. The anger in his eyes was palpable. “Where is Sherry’s jade pendant?” “Give it back to her.” “That was a gift from her mother for her eighteenth birthday.” Being falsely accused over and over again finally pushed me past my breaking point. I screamed at him, my voice cracking. “I didn’t touch Sherry!” “I didn’t threaten her!” “And I have never seen her stupid pendant!” I had never once lost my temper with Silas in all the years we had spent together. He froze for a moment, but my anger only seemed to provoke his own. He grabbed my wrist, yanked off my red string bracelet, and hurled it over the edge of the cliff. “Fine. If you won’t give it back, then you don’t get to keep yours either.” My breathing stopped. He knew exactly how much I treasured that bracelet. It was the only keepsake left to me by my deceased parents, something my father had traveled to a temple to obtain for my mother when I was born. After they passed away, I had worn it every single day for seven years. It was all I had left of them. The tears finally spilled over, completely out of my control. Silas’s expression softened slightly at the sight of my tears, but he still held my arm. “Now we’re even,” he said. “Go apologize to Sherry, and I’ll forgive you.” “If you don’t want to live on the island anymore, I can accompany you back to the city for a while. I’ve already promised to help Sherry win an award, but once the villa is built, we can come back together.” Seeing that I wouldn’t stop crying, he grew increasingly anxious, talking far more than usual. “What is wrong with you lately? Why won’t you speak to me?” “I’m not even holding your behavior against Sherry anymore.” “Are you crying now just so you can run to my grandfather and tell him I bullied you?” His voice grew louder, as if he were desperately trying to force everything back into order. “Sherry said you’re just jealous. I never said I wouldn’t marry you.” “You’re going to be Mrs. Harrison soon anyway. What more could you possibly want?” I raised my hand and slapped Silas hard across the face. I stared into his eyes, speaking slowly and clearly. “Silas, no one in the outside world even knows about our engagement.” “Your grandfather will help us dissolve it. I am not marrying you.” “I am leaving right now. We are done.” Silas’s expression darkened instantly. I ignored him, turning around and throwing myself over the edge of the cliff into the sea, desperate to find my red string bracelet in the vast, churning water. After my tenth dive, I dragged myself onto the shore to rest. Silas found me again, dragging my shivering, soaking-wet body back to the camp and shoving me in front of Sherry to force an apology. Sherry, her eyes red, spoke up timidly. “Silas, one of the construction workers found my pendant. I… I must have dropped it by accident earlier.” Silas’s grip on my wrist loosened. He let out a sigh of relief, gently brushing a tear from Sherry’s cheek. “I’m glad we found it.” “You’re too kind, Sherry. You don’t need to make excuses for Lyra.” He turned back to me, his tone carrying a sense of magnanimous forgiveness. “Lyra, thank Sherry.” “Thank her for being so understanding.” “Thank her for what?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet. “For framing me?” Seeing that I was completely unyielding, anger flared in Silas’s eyes once again. The roar of several incoming helicopters drew Sherry’s attention. She tugged at Silas’s sleeve. “Silas, it’s fine. Let’s go see what else you bought for me.” Silas shot me a final, warning glance, but I met his gaze with absolute indifference. I watched from a distance as Sherry squealed with delight, kissing the designer handbag Silas had purchased for her. Silas smiled indulgently, though a faint crease remained between his brows. “As long as you like it, Sherry. We’ll leave tomorrow, and I’ll buy you even more beautiful dresses for your red carpet events.” “What about Lyra?” “Leave her here. Since she loves the island so much, she can supervise the construction of our villa.”

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My former lover was the one who slipped the cold steel over my wrists. He stood there in his crisp police uniform, a man of absolute integrity, complete with a young, beautiful girlfriend waiting for him in the wings. At the precinct, he kept things strictly professional, his expression entirely detached. “Tell us what you did, and don’t lie.” 1 The officer who arrested me was Austin. To everyone else at the station, he was Chief Austin. He did not soften his grip in the slightest. The metal bit deep into my skin, and tears welled in my eyes from the sharp sting. “Gentle, please,” I whispered. He did not even spare me a glance, his voice completely flat. “Just standard protocol, ma’am. I’m sure you understand.” Not a single shred of our past remained in his eyes. A hollow ache settled in my chest. In the interrogation room, the detective across from me flipped through a file. “You filed a formal complaint against Victor?” I nodded. “What exactly is your relationship with him?” “He is my husband.” “Were you complicit in any of his illegal operations?” The question hung in the air. The harsh fluorescent lights flickered, reflecting off the dark lens of the recording camera. For a second, the room seemed to spin. My gaze drifted to Austin, who had remained silent in the corner of the room. His expression was a blank wall. “Just tell us what you did, Fiona,” he said calmly. “And don’t lie.” 2 The investigation eventually cleared me of all suspicion. As for that bastard Victor, the charges were staggering: tax evasion, human trafficking, and racketeering. The prosecutors estimated his minimum sentence would be life without parole. But Victor was not stupid. He caught wind of the raid and fled before they could lock the city down. In the precinct’s main office, detectives were loudly debating their next move. I sat in the corner, clutching a paper cup of lukewarm water, feeling entirely out of place. Suddenly, someone at the door shouted, “Hey, look, the Chief’s girl is here!” A few young officers swarmed around a long-haired girl entering the room. She was incredibly sweet, wearing a white floral sundress, carrying herself with a quiet, gentle grace. She blushed as she walked toward Austin, holding out a neatly packed lunchbox. So, this was his new girlfriend. A genuine smile broke through Austin’s stern face. “You came.” She kept her voice low. “Make sure you eat it while it’s still warm. I spent hours making it.” “Don’t trouble yourself next time,” Austin murmured, pinching her cheek affectionately. I lowered my head, staring at the floor. The lighthearted teasing of the officers echoed in my ears. It was too loud. 3 Her name was Lily. She was a twenty-year-old student at a prestigious university. Austin had brought her to an alumni reunion last year. At the time, an old classmate had leaned over to tell me they looked like a match made in heaven. The classmate immediately covered her mouth, looking at me with deep regret. She had probably remembered that years ago, she used to say the exact same thing about Austin and me. I had only offered a faint smile. “It’s fine. It’s in the past.” A few days later, I finally cleaned out my phone contacts. I blocked my ex-husband, his terrible friends, and his awful mother. For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe again. I went to the local grocery store to stock up on food, but fate is a cruel thing. I ran straight into Lily. She had her hair styled in a beautiful half-up crown, looking like an angel as she waved at me. Austin was standing right beside her. My posture went rigid. Memories flooded back. Years ago, during our high school’s centennial celebration, I had returned to our old campus as an alumna. Lily, then a nervous freshman in her blue-and-white uniform, had approached me with a notebook. “Senior, could you write a few words of encouragement for my exams?” Four or five years had passed, yet she actually remembered me. After a bit of polite small talk, I could not help but ask, “That day at the celebration, did I come alone?” Lily tapped her chin, thinking. “I think your boyfriend was there. I remember a guy standing a few paces behind you, carrying your handbag. But he was too far away, and I couldn’t see his face clearly.” She looked at me with innocent curiosity. “Are you two still together?” Austin, who had been walking slightly ahead of us, suddenly stopped and looked back, raising an eyebrow. My breath caught. That look was painfully familiar. Whenever I did something mischievous back then, he would look at me with that exact half-amused, half-reproving expression. Back then, I would get flustered, find an opportunity to bite his jaw, and try to run away. He would inevitably catch me by the waist, pull me into some dark corner behind a door, and kiss me thoroughly. I snapped back to reality, forcing a stiff laugh. “No, we broke up a very long time ago.” Austin let out a quiet, mocking chuckle. I quickly looked away. Lily showed me her left hand, her face glowing with pure joy. A massive diamond ring sparkled on her finger. “Fiona, does getting married really make you age faster?” she asked. “That depends entirely on who you marry,” I said softly. “Marry the right person, and you’ll stay young forever.” Her bright eyes shone with a sweet simplicity. “Really?” “Really,” I replied. “Your guy here is a keeper. He’s built for a quiet, happy family life.” She blushed. “How can you tell?” “Because our old teachers used to say so,” I said, offering a weak cover. She caught the detail instantly. “Teachers?” Austin turned his head, his gaze burning into me. With both of them staring, I struggled to keep my voice steady. “We were classmates back in the day. He was the golden boy, so the teachers always used him as an example.” Lily gasped in delight. “No way!” I nodded, my chest tightening. Rivals in middle school, friends in high school, lovers in college. My youth was not defined by years. It was defined by Austin. 4 I tried to focus on starting over. After being worn down to the bone by Victor for years, I needed to rebuild my life, find a decent job, and learn to take care of myself again. On my next visit to the precinct to sign some paperwork, Anna, a round-faced officer, gasped when she saw me. “Fiona! You look like a completely different person. You’re stunning!” I smiled, feeling a genuine spark of energy. When I met Austin in his office, I sincerely thanked him and urged him to bring Victor to justice. Through the haze of cigarette smoke, Austin stared at me, his fingers slowly dropping to his side. His eyes were dark and incredibly complex. “You haven’t changed at all, Fiona.” His voice was laced with a bitter chill. “Still selfish, still cold. You don’t actually care about anyone.” I offered a small, polite smile. “I wish you and Lily a lifetime of happiness.” He did not reply. Beneath his long lashes, his eyes burned with a dark, suffocating intensity. I took two steps forward, lowering my voice. “What? Are you still in love with me?” He let out a sharp, mocking scoff and crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. Six months flew by. During that time, Lily reached out to me once. She asked, “Fiona, was there a girl in your class whose name started with the letter F?” I told her I could not recall. She handed me a worn, leather-bound journal. It was Austin’s diary, spanning from middle school through high school, filled with his elegant, sharp handwriting. I promised Lily I would look through it at home and let her know if I remembered anything. But I never got the chance to read it. That very night, Austin banged on my door like a furious creditor. “Give it back,” he demanded, his voice dangerously low. Lily stood a few paces behind him, shivering like a frightened bird. With nothing left to say, I quietly handed the journal over. Without a word, Austin tossed the book straight into a basin of water sitting near the door. I instinctively lunged forward to grab it, but it was already sinking. Lily whispered from behind him, “Austin, who is F?” It was not a classmate. F stood for February, my birth month. “Just childhood nonsense,” Austin said, his voice softening slightly as he spoke to her, though his eyes remained locked on me. “I was young and stupid. It was just a game.” Lily let out a shaky breath and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You scared me. I thought you had some unforgettable first love.” Austin’s lips curved into a deeply sarcastic, painful smile. I forced myself to play the mediator. “Exactly. There’s no secret. You two shouldn’t let a silly old book cause any drama.” My eyes drifted to the basin. The journal floated on the surface, completely ruined and abandoned by its owner. Tears began to sting my eyes. I turned my back to them, pretending to adjust something on the counter as I wiped my face. “We all have to move on eventually. You two deserve to be happy.” 5 I ended up taking the diary apart, page by page, trying to salvage it. There were over a thousand pages. My small balcony could only hold a few dozen sheets at a time, making it a tedious, foolish project. Yet, I worked on it day and night. The exhaustion must have triggered something, because that night, I dreamed of Austin. It was the night of my twenty-fifth birthday. I had looked him in the eye and said, “Austin, I’m bored. I’m done playing this game with you.” He thought I was joking, his voice incredibly tender. “Sweetheart, stop teasing.” I had smiled, cold and detached. “Do you honestly think I’m going to spend the rest of my life with a low-paid beat cop? I want a real life. I’ve been playing with you all these years because you’re handsome and built well, but the game is over. I found someone better.” “Fiona…” He looked lost, reaching out to pull me into his arms. I shoved him back with all my strength. “You know Victor, the head of our firm? He has money, power, and influence. You can’t even begin to compete with him.” He stared at me, frozen, as the evening shadows slowly swallowed his face. The dream shifted. It was the night before my wedding. Austin was there, dressed in a flawless designer suit, sipping champagne and laughing with Victor. It was only then that I recalled a passing comment from an old classmate. Austin’s family was incredibly wealthy and influential; police work was merely his passion, a choice he made out of love for the job. A heavy, suffocating cold settled in my chest. At the reception, Austin’s icy gaze swept over me. “Victor, your bride doesn’t seem very happy today.” I forced myself to smile, leaning heavily against Victor’s arm. “Detective Austin is young and highly accomplished. I’m sure he will have a bright future.” During a break in the banquet, Austin cornered me outside the restrooms. His hands were shaking, his voice cracking with desperation. “Fiona, tell me you regret this. Just say the word, and I’ll take you away from here. Just tell me the truth, please.” He lowered himself, practically begging. “Just come back to me, Fiona.” I placed a hand over my slightly rounded stomach. “It’s too late.” Across the hall, Victor stood watching us, smiling like a predator playing with a captured pet. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the dark. A sudden, violent crack of thunder shattered the dream. I bolted upright in bed, gasping for air. My phone was vibrating violently on the nightstand. It was Lily. Her voice was choked with hysterical tears. “Fiona, Austin got into a horrible accident. I’m so scared. Can you please come to the hospital?” I froze. In an instant, the blood in my veins turned to absolute ice.

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1 Midnight in the university alumni group chat, someone suddenly posed a popular question: “If you could turn back the clock, which year would you go back to?” Tristan, the golden boy of our department who had vanished from the face of the earth five years ago, suddenly popped up: “Our junior year, during that freezing winter.” A few seconds later, another message followed: “And back to Eleanor Sinclair’s side.” The group chat exploded instantly. Back at Amberley University, they had been the golden couple everyone whispered about: the untouchable, ethereal beauty and the dazzling star athlete. Their love had been wild, passionate, and loud. Unfortunately, it had ended in heartbreak when he moved abroad. To this day, everyone in that chat was absolutely certain Eleanor still loved him. Myself included. I turned my head to look at Eleanor, who was fast asleep beside me. The once unattainable goddess of our campus was now my wife. She was quiet, attentive, perfect in every duty of marriage, and she did not love me. In my past life, I had slowly drowned in depression trying to warm this frozen stone of a woman, dying with the bitter belief that her heart belonged entirely to Tristan. Having been given a second chance at life, I decided I was done playing the fool. I quietly slipped out of bed, placed the signed divorce papers on the nightstand, and rolled my suitcase toward the bedroom door. Suddenly, a pair of burning-hot hands wrapped around my waist from behind. She held me with a desperate, crushing strength. Her tears scalded my collarbone, and her voice was a terrifying, ragged whisper. “Baby, where are you going? Why are you divorcing me?” “Please, don’t leave me, okay?” “Eleanor, are you having a nightmare?” I asked softly. Eleanor’s voice changed instantly, as if someone had flipped a switch. The raw, ragged desperation vanished, replaced immediately by her usual frigid composure. Her grip on my waist loosened, her hands retreating as if she had touched a hot stove. I turned around to see her back facing me, her shoulder blades tense and rigid. The warm glow of the bedside lamp caught the side of her face. She quickly swiped the back of her hand across her cheek, erasing any trace of wetness. “It was just sleep paralysis. I wasn’t fully awake.” “I’m sorry for disturbing you.” She leaned down to pick up the divorce papers she had crumpled in her grip. Flattening the creases with slow, deliberate care, she spoke in her usual business-like tone. She folded the paper once, then twice, then three times, before tossing it with perfect precision into the wastebasket by the bed. The movement was clean and cold, as if she were throwing away a used tissue rather than our marriage. “The Sinclair family cannot afford this kind of public embarrassment.” “And we do not have a history of divorce.” “If you’re feeling restless, go out and spend some money tomorrow.” Leaving me with those flat, empty words, she turned and walked into the bathroom. The lock clicked shut. Soon, the sound of rushing water filled the room. I stood there in the dark, the spot on my collarbone where her tears had fallen now completely cold. She had been exactly like this in our past life. Occasionally, she would lose control in the dead of night, only to act as if nothing had happened the next morning, masking everything under an impenetrable layer of dignity and poise. For five years, I had stupidly let myself be moved by those rare moments of midnight vulnerability. My phone screen lit up in the darkness. There was a new message in the alumni chat. I swiped it open. Tristan had posted a photo: a yellowed, worn movie ticket stub from a classic romance film that had played during our junior year. He had captioned it: “Some memories remain warm, even after five freezing winters.” The replies rolled in immediately. “You still kept that, Tristan? My heart breaks for you.” “Some people are just impossible to forget.” “@Tristan, you deserve so much better.” I exited the chat, leaning down to gather my coat from the floor. As I did, my hand brushed against the academic journal Eleanor always kept on her nightstand. I knocked it slightly out of place, and something slipped out from the pages, landing softly on the carpet. I picked it up. It was a custom leather bookmark with gilded edges. It shared the exact same design, the exact same font, and the exact same layout as the movie ticket stub Tristan had just posted. They were a matching set. The shower stopped. The bathroom door opened. Eleanor walked out, wrapping her robe tighter around herself. Seeing me kneeling on the floor with the bookmark in my hand, she paused for a fraction of a second. “It was a promotional gift from the publisher,” she said, her voice as flat as if she were explaining a shipping invoice. I nodded, slipped the bookmark back into the journal, and stood up. No demands for explanations. No accusations. I didn’t even look at her a second time. I grabbed my duffel bag and began packing my toiletries: my toothbrush, my face wash, and the bottle of lotion that was nearly empty. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Going to my parents’ place.” “At three in the morning?” “Yes.” She fell silent for a few seconds. “Leave the bag. I’ll have the driver take you.” “No need.” I pushed open the bedroom door and walked down to the foyer. The butler was already waiting there, holding a black umbrella and a heavy camel hair coat. “Sir,” he said politely, “Madame instructed me to ensure you don’t catch a cold. It would harm the public image of the Sinclair family’s marital harmony.” I looked at the coat. In my past life, she had done this too. She would never chase after me, and she would never offer an explanation. But she would always make sure someone handed me an umbrella, a coat, or a cup of warm water at just the right temperature. It was a cruel trick that made you feel cared for, while simultaneously making you realize that the care had absolutely nothing to do with you as a person. She only cared about protecting the pristine title of “her husband.” I walked past the butler, opened the heavy front door, and let the biting winter wind hit my face. My phone vibrated again. It was a friend request on WeChat. The avatar was a silhouette of Tristan’s profile. The invitation message read: “It’s been five years. I just wanted to ask how she’s doing. Please don’t take it the wrong way, okay?” I stared at the words for three seconds. Then, I tapped accept. Tristan chose a quiet coffee shop tucked away in an alley near our old campus. He was sitting by the window wearing a cream knit sweater, his hair casually styled, looking noticeably thinner than he had in college. “Long time no see,” he said, rising to offer me a warm, gentle hug. He smelled faintly of cedarwood. I sat down, declining to order anything. “To be honest, I hesitated for a long time before reaching out to you,” Tristan said, keeping his eyes down as he stirred his latte, the spoon clinking softly against the ceramic. He pulled a yellowed document from his bag and slid it across the table. It was a photocopy of an old visa application from five years ago. “Eleanor kept this safe for me all this time,” he said, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. “I left in such a hurry back then, I didn’t have time to gather my things. I’ve wanted to get it back for years, but I was so afraid of disrupting your lives.” I glanced at the photocopy. Eleanor’s name was nowhere on it. “She kept a photocopy of your visa,” I said flatly. “And?” “Nothing, I just…” Tristan shook his head quickly, his eyes instantly brimming with tears. “I just thought you should hear this.” He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and played an audio clip. The quality was poor, sounding as if it had been recorded through a heavy door. Eleanor’s voice came through, sounding exhausted. “Don’t push him. I’ll handle whatever consequences come of this.” And then it cut off. There was no context, no hint of who she was speaking to or who she was talking about. Tristan paused the recording, looking up at me with wet, pleading eyes. “I ran into some trouble when I was abroad, and she… she helped me so much. I didn’t mean to come between you, I just…” I picked up the untouched glass of ice water in front of me and slowly poured it into the potted fern sitting on our table. A few drops splashed onto the sleeve of his white sweater. “Tristan,” I said, standing up. “Cut the tragic hero act.” “If you have something to say, say it. Stop playing these pathetic games.” “If you want Eleanor, you should be talking to her, not me.” He froze, his lips parting in shock. Without waiting for a response, I grabbed my bag and walked out. The moment I pushed through the glass door of the cafe, a sleek black luxury sedan pulled up smoothly to the curb. A bodyguard in a tailored suit stepped out, holding an umbrella. He bypassed me completely, walking straight up to Tristan and bowing slightly. “Mr. Tristan, Madame requests your presence in the car.” I looked back. The transition on Tristan’s face from utter shock to pure triumph took less than half a second. He scrambled to gather his things and practically ran to follow the guard. The rear window of the luxury sedan remained rolled up. The heavy tint made it impossible to see inside. But I knew Eleanor was sitting in the back seat. The car glided away. I stood there on the pavement as a cold, biting rain began to fall, soaking through my clothes. By seven that evening, the alumni group chat had descended into absolute chaos. One of Tristan’s friends had posted a blurry, secretly taken photo of Tristan leaning in to enter the luxury sedan. The license plate was fully visible. Tristan replied almost instantly: “Guys, please don’t share this. Her husband will be heartbroken if he sees it. I only wanted to see her from a distance.” The chat went wild. “Tristan, stop hurting yourself for her.” “Honestly, some people are just taking up a spot they don’t deserve. It’s frustrating to watch.” “@Tristan, you deserve to be cherished.” I typed out a reply. My finger hovered over the send button for three seconds before I deleted every single word. Then, someone else chimed in: “Please, just leave Tristan alone. He only recently recovered from severe depression. Don’t trigger him.” The screen kept scrolling with endless vitriol. “Some people really love bullying the gentle ones.” “Tristan only went abroad back then to let them be happy together.” I closed the app. I popped open my phone’s SIM tray, pulled out the card, snapped it clean in half, and dropped it into a trash can by the street. Then, I walked into a print shop, printed out a fresh copy of the divorce agreement, signed my name, and booked a same-day courier. The destination: Eleanor’s private estate. Less than twenty minutes after the delivery was marked as signed, my phone rang. It was the bank. “Mr. Sinclair, this is your private account manager. We regret to inform you that all secondary cards under your account have been suspended by the primary cardholder. If you have any questions, please contact…” I hung up. I opened my wallet. Inside were three fifty-dollar bills and a few stray coins. This was all the money I had in the world. I hadn’t worked a single day since we got married. Eleanor had always told me, “You don’t need to work. We have everything you could ever want.” In my past life, I had believed her. I had believed her for five years, until I ended up having to ask her assistant for household funds just to buy a box of stomach medicine. I dragged my suitcase through the cold streets for hours before finding a run-down motel on the west side of the city. The front desk clerk quoted me eighty dollars a night, no breakfast included. I paid for two nights, leaving myself with seventy dollars. My room was on the third floor, with a window that faced a blank concrete wall. The building’s heating hadn’t been turned on yet, and the sheets felt damp and freezing to the touch. Just as I set my suitcase down, there was a knock at the door. A motel employee stood there holding an elegantly wrapped thermal delivery box, wearing a smile that was entirely too bright. “Hello, sir! This is part of our motel’s new VIP welcome program. It’s a complimentary bowl of stomach-soothing porridge. Congratulations on winning!” I glanced at the gold-embossed logo on the box. The Golden Crane. It was an exclusive, reservation-only restaurant on the east side of the city that required a three-week waiting list. Inside was sugar-free date and longan porridge. Eleanor absolutely loathed porridge. But Tristan loved it. I had no desire to unravel the mystery of why this was showing up at my door. “No, thank you. I don’t want it.” “But sir, it’s completely free—” I shut the door in his face. The employee left the box on the floor outside. I opened the door again, picked it up, and tossed it into the trash chute down the hall. My stomach had been burning since the afternoon. I had left the house in such a rush that morning that I’d only had half a glass of cold water all day. I sat on the edge of the mattress, curling inward to wait out the sharp, twisting pain. It didn’t stop. It only grew worse, feeling as though a cold hand was slowly wringing my organs. I grabbed my keycard and went downstairs, walking to the convenience store at the corner. The pain relievers were on the bottom shelf. Just as I reached for them, someone rounded the corner of the aisle so fast they nearly ran me over. It was Penny, Eleanor’s personal assistant. She was dripping with sweat, panting heavily as if she had just sprinted across several blocks, clutching a prescription box of stomach medication in her hand. “Mr. Sinclair,” she stammered, trying desperately to sound casual. “What a coincidence! I was just passing by. This medicine is incredibly effective for stomach pain. I use it all the time, so I thought I’d just buy some for…” “Penny,” I said quietly. She stopped talking. I looked at the box in her hand. It was an imported, high-strength prescription drug specifically for stress-induced gastritis. There was absolutely no way a common convenience store carried it. “Did she send you?” Penny’s eyes darted away, her lips trembling. I reached out and knocked the box clean out of her hand. The plastic packaging hit the linoleum floor with a sharp crack, the pills spilling out and rolling under the shelves. “Go back and tell her,” I said, “to keep her cheap pity to herself. If she actually cares, she can start by signing the papers.” Penny scrambled onto her knees to gather the loose pills, her hands shaking so badly she could barely pick them up. Only when I had paid for my items and turned to leave did she catch up to me, pressing a heavy, gold-foiled invitation into my hands. “Mr. Sinclair, Madame insisted I deliver this to you personally.” “Tomorrow is the university’s centennial gala. Madame said that for the sake of the company’s stock stability, you must attend as her husband.” I took the invitation. The cover was stamped with the Amberley University crest and a small line of print: Reserved VIP Seating — Mrs. Eleanor Sinclair and Partner. My stomach flared with another wave of sharp pain. The alumni chat had been muted on my end, but the whispers still found a way to reach me. Tristan had posted a new set of photos. Standing in front of a dressing room mirror, he was wearing a tailored midnight-blue suit, looking back over his shoulder with a sharp, elegant jawline. The caption read: “Even if I’m only a supporting actor tonight, I want to look my best for an old friend.” Apparently, the comment section was filled with praise and broken hearts. I chose a fitted black velvet shirt from my bag. It was the most daring piece in my wardrobe, tailored perfectly to hug my waist. In my past life, I had never dared to wear anything like this. Eleanor had once told me, “You’re too thin. Fitted clothes make you look fragile and unstable.” Tonight, I didn’t care. The gala was held in the university’s historic Grand Hall. The crystal chandeliers were blindingly bright, casting a warm glow over the sea of expensive dresses and sharp suits. I walked in alone. Eyes fell on me from every corner of the room, carrying a mix of cold calculation, muffled snickers, and blatant amusement. I hadn’t walked ten paces before Tristan stepped out from the crowd. Flanked by a group of seven or eight loyal followers, he paused when he saw me, then slowly walked over. “Oliver,” he said, his voice so soft and delicate it sounded as if he were trying not to scare a wild animal. “I’m so sorry. If my being here makes things awkward for you… I can leave right now. Really.” He lowered his head slightly as he spoke, pulling his shoulders inward to look as small and yielding as possible. The surrounding crowd instantly looked at him with profound pity—and shot me looks of pure disgust. I ignored him, reaching out to take a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. Just then, a wave of hushed murmurs swept through the entrance. Eleanor walked in, surrounded by several members of the university’s board of directors. She was wearing a charcoal-grey power suit, her gold cufflinks catching the light. Her eyes swept across the room. They lingered briefly on Tristan, then on the crowd surrounding him, and finally on me. Without a single change in her expression, she averted her gaze and walked straight toward the VIP stage. It was the look she would give a total stranger. One of the women standing next to Tristan suddenly spoke up, her voice sharp and loud enough to carry. “Oh, look, the house husband is here. All by himself? Did Eleanor leave you behind?” It was Gemma, a woman who had been notoriously obsessed with Tristan since our college days. I didn’t answer. Taking my silence as permission, she stepped closer with her wine glass in hand. As she tried to brush past me, her elbow suddenly lunged sideways. She didn’t hit me. Instead, she slammed hard into the glass champagne tower beside us. With a deafening crash, the delicate glass shattered, cascading down in a violent wave of alcohol. The freezing champagne drenched me from head to toe. My black velvet shirt was instantly soaked, clinging heavily to my skin. The hall fell dead silent for a second, followed by a wave of poorly suppressed laughter. “Oh my gosh, I am so, so sorry!” Gemma cried out with theatrical horror, though the corners of her mouth were twitching with amusement. More people began to crowd around us. “Weren’t you the one who forced Tristan to go abroad five years ago?” “He spent five miserable years alone in a foreign country because of you. Doesn’t your conscience bother you at all?” “Say something! Apologize to him in front of everyone! Get on your knees and apologize!” Tristan stood just outside the circle, his hands covering his mouth, looking entirely innocent, as if he had no idea how things had escalated to this point. I took a step back, my spine hitting a cold marble pillar. Champagne was dripping from my hem, pooling inside my shoes. The lights above felt entirely too bright. I reached slowly into my small leather clutch and pulled out a small, grey device. It was an old voice recorder, its edges worn white from years of handling. In my past life, I had never found the courage to use it. But in this life, it was more than enough. I looked up, staring past the angry, mocking faces in front of me, and locked eyes with Eleanor, who was still being toasted by the board members in the distance. She set her glass down, apparently noticing the commotion, and turned her head. Our eyes met. I turned around, took the audio cable dangling from the standing microphone next to the pillar, and plugged it directly into the recorder. “Do you all really think Tristan chose to sacrifice himself and that I was the one who forced him out? Well, you might want to listen closely to what actually happened.”

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1 During the peak of my shameless physical desires, I picked up a pet zombie to play with. He could not speak. Whenever I teased him too much, a single drop of my blood was enough to placate him. But today, right after I messed up his soft curls, a glowing chat box popped up in front of my eyes. Oh my god. I’ve seen people raise cats and dogs, but this is my first time seeing someone keep a Zombie King as a house pet! The Zombie King has been enduring this cannon fodder’s abuse for a year just to map out the Haven’s defense systems! This dumb girl is going to end up as humanity’s biggest traitor. Just wait till she gets thrown to the horde and ripped to shreds! My hand froze right as I was strapping the silver muzzle onto my little zombie. Sensing my hesitation, he lunged, shaking off the loose strap. His sharp fangs bared, sinking deep into my wrist. I hissed, a sharp breath catching in my throat. The little zombie froze. He looked stunned, as if he had not expected his sneak attack to actually land. His milky-blue eyes widened in sheer confusion. Then, slowly, his cold tongue darted out, gently licking the bead of blood welling on my skin. I pulled my hand back and snapped the muzzle shut. The silver metal locked around his jaw. He thrashed in frustration, but it was useless. Seven days ago, before heading out on a raid, I had injected him with a heavy-duty sedative designed specifically for infected. It should have kept him out cold on my bed the entire time. But during a quiet moment on the field, I had pulled up the feed of the hidden camera I recently installed in my bedroom. I wanted to admire his sleeping face, but instead, I saw him sitting up, casually unclasping the muzzle himself. “Captain, move! The horde is closing in!” My squad’s shout had cut my feed short. I shut off my phone and leaped back into the armored vehicle. When I finally got home, new muzzle in hand, I braced myself for an ambush. But when I unlocked the door, he was lying there, completely still, muzzle perfectly secure. It was as if the security footage had been a hallucination. Still, I woke him up and strapped the tighter, upgraded model onto him. I washed the fresh bite on my wrist and jabbed an antiseptic serum into my arm. When I walked back into the bedroom, the little zombie was sitting on the edge of the mattress, knees pulled to his chest, burying his face in his arms. Only his messy curls were visible. I ruffled his soft hair. He looked up, his damp eyes filled with a pitiful, soft gaze. It was incredibly endearing. I pinched his cheek and leaned down, pressing a light kiss to the center of his forehead. “You bit me today. No dinner for you.” He responded with a low, menacing growl, but it sounded more like a pout than a threat. 2 Honestly, believing my little zombie is some legendary Zombie King is like believing I am the ruler of the empire. When the outbreak hit three years ago, a fraction of humanity gained supernatural abilities. I was one of the heavy hitters. Because of my raw power, countless opportunists tried to crawl into my bed just to secure my protection. Even the self-proclaimed strongest commander of the Haven once reached out a hand to me, saying, “You are the only woman fit to stand by my side.” That line made me so nauseous I could not sleep. So, I snuck into his quarters at midnight and castrated him with a combat knife. I fled the Haven that very night. On my way out, I ran into a ragged little zombie trying to ambush me at an abandoned gas station. I was going to decapitate him on the spot, but before he could even reach me, he tripped over his own feet and faceplanted. “Dumbass,” I muttered, sheathing my dagger. But as I turned to leave, he scrambled up and chased after me. That was when I got a proper look at his face. I froze. I actually looked around to see if someone was pulling a prank. There was no way a creature of the apocalypse could look so perfectly tailored to my exact aesthetic tastes. I pulled a spare muzzle out of my pack and strapped it onto him. “An idiot zombie like you is never going to successfully bite anyone. Other monsters will probably eat you alive.” “Growl!” “Want to come with me instead?” He lunged, but I caught his wrists and immediately started trimming his dangerously long claws. Traveling with a brain-dead pet had its challenges. Eventually, when the Haven practically begged me to return, even forcing that castrated commander to offer a formal apology, I decided to go back. It felt great knowing he despised me but could not touch me. “You guys don’t mind if I bring a pet, right?” I stepped aside, revealing my little zombie. “He is very sweet.” The Haven ran him through a dozen scanners before finally letting him in. And now, these random glowing comments were telling me this adorable idiot is the Zombie King? 3 He had barely tasted a drop of blood all day. By midnight, the sound of his furious teeth-grinding was driving me insane. I snapped my eyes open, irritated. The Zombie King is insanely brutal to himself. He literally shattered his own core just to bypass the Haven’s scanners. With a broken core, his memory and IQ plummeted. This girl got incredibly lucky. If he had his full faculties, she would be history. It’s fine. His core is healing. The moment he fully recovers, she’s dead meat. A Zombie King, huh? I reached over and clicked on the dim bedside lamp. He was curled up at the corner of the mattress, still grinding his teeth. But then I noticed he had somehow stolen one of my sweaters and buried his entire face in the fabric. “Stealing from me?” I yanked the sweater away. Nico stared at me, his eyes wide. Sensing my movement, he grabbed my arm and lunged to bite, only for his teeth to clank harmlessly against the silver metal of the muzzle. His loose pajamas had slid down, exposing a sliver of his pale waist. I pressed my hand against his bare skin. He froze instantly. Under the faint yellow light, his cheeks seemed to flush, though I did not pay it much mind. I flipped over, pinning his hips down with my knees. “If you are going to keep me awake, then you don’t get to sleep either.” Though he had a remarkably innocent face, Nico stood at a solid six-foot-two. Beneath his clothes, he was built like a lean, powerful athlete. Just as I was about to indulge in my late-night snack, the chat exploded. Here it comes! His memories aren’t fully back, but his intellect is. He’s not going to let this low-tier villainess touch him anymore! Imagine waking up to see your annoying captor riding you. He’s going to tear her apart. Oh, he won’t kill her yet. He’s going to sabotage the Haven and frame her first, making her a pariah before letting the horde rip her to shreds. My brow furrowed. I could enjoy this meal anytime, but I had no interest in a death row feast. Just as I went to slide off him, a cold, heavy hand clamped around my waist, pinning me firmly against him.

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Ethan Holt had never imagined that Evie Sterling would one day walk away from him. He had funded her for ten years, caged her for ten years, and convinced himself she would wait forever. For Sophia Grant, he slapped Evie, locked her up, and stripped away the last voting shares her family had left her. He trampled all over her love and still believed she would come back. Only after Lucas Grant took her into his protection, married her, and placed an empire in her hands did Ethan finally lose his mind. He wrecked his own legacy, survived a fall into the sea, and crawled back from hell like a possessive ghost, all for one purpose. To take her back. Evie only gave him one answer. “Ethan, the debt is repaid. We will never see each other again.” The world called him a madman for chasing after his lost love. Lucas Grant only held his wife closer and said with lazy contempt, “Ethan’s taste has always been terrible. Lucky for me, he let me steal the prize.” Everyone in Harbor City knew Evie Sterling was Ethan Holt’s pretty little ornament. What no one knew was that the obedient face he kept beside him had spent three years tangled in a secret affair with the man who had sponsored her since childhood. That night, Ethan returned from Wall Street after three years abroad. The first event on his schedule was a private charity cruise. In the VIP suite on the top deck, the air itself felt overheated. Evie was pinned against the glass with her wrists tied by his necktie, the city lights glittering behind her and Ethan’s cold, handsome face burning with possessive madness in front of her. “Ethan… that hurts…” He bit down at the back of her neck in answer. “Three years apart and you’ve already forgotten how to please me?” She cried quietly and let the tears fall. For three years she had lived on one sentence alone. Wait for me to come back. She had turned away every admirer and spent those years like a doll suspended on strings. When he was done, Ethan buttoned his shirt and put his mask back on. Then he lit a cigar and said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather, “Tomorrow the Holt and Grant families will formally announce the marriage alliance.” Her hands froze over the hem of her dress. “You’re getting married?” “Yes.” He looked down at her without emotion. “I’m marrying Sophia Grant. You’re marrying her brother, Lucas Grant.” The room spun. Lucas Grant. The ruthless head of the Grant family. “Why?” she whispered. “You told me to wait for you.” “I told you what I needed to tell you.” His voice turned colder. “Sophia is different. She’s clean. She can stand beside me in public. You can’t. The Holt family supported you for ten years. It’s time you repaid that debt.” Clean. That word sliced her open. So that was all she had ever been to him. A dirty little secret. She barely knew how she got out of the suite. Her dress hung crooked. The mark on her neck burned. Tears blurred her vision. At the corner of the hall, she ran straight into a broad chest that smelled faintly of cedar. She looked up and found herself face-to-face with a man in a black overcoat, tall, controlled, and dangerous in a way that did not need to be announced. His gaze dropped to the bite mark on her neck. Then his mouth curved. “Ethan’s taste,” he said softly, “is still as bad as ever.”

She knew who he was immediately. Lucas Grant. Sophia’s brother. Her future fiancé by arrangement. He studied her for a moment, then removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders. “Cover yourself,” he said. “I’d rather tomorrow’s headlines not say my fiancée showed up wearing another man’s marks.” She fled in humiliation. Back in the ballroom, the crowd had gathered around the staircase. Ethan stood there in a dark suit with Sophia on his arm. Sophia was all white silk and sweetness, the kind of beauty that looked fragile until you looked too closely. Evie stood in the shadows and tried not to look. Sophia noticed her anyway. “Ethan, that must be Evie,” she said with a smile. “You always said she was your best-behaved girl.” Ethan’s eyes dropped to Lucas’s coat over Evie’s shoulders, and his face darkened at once. “Where did you get that?” Before Evie could answer, Sophia covered her mouth and said with mock innocence, “That looks like my brother’s coat. Evie, were you with him just now?” Ethan leaned close enough that only she could hear him. “I told you to marry Lucas. I did not tell you to throw yourself at him.” Her heart dropped to the floor. He did not ask. He did not listen. He judged. So she smiled. “If you’re giving me away,” she said coolly, “wouldn’t it make sense to start pleasing my future husband early?” For the first time that night, Ethan looked shaken. Sophia saw it and smiled even more sweetly. “Come with me, Evie. Let’s talk about your wedding.” She led her out to the deck. The instant they reached a deserted corner, Sophia dropped the act. She raised her hand and showed off a huge pink diamond ring. “Ethan bought it at Sotheby’s for me,” she said. “Did you think sleeping with him for three years would make you special? You’re nothing but a bankrupt orphan he kept around.”

Evie recognized the diamond instantly. Years earlier, Ethan had sent her a picture of it from Europe and said, This stone would suit you. She had waited for months. Now it was on someone else’s hand. “Finished showing off?” Evie asked quietly. She tried to leave. Sophia grabbed her wrist. “As long as I’m here, you’ll never have a good life.” Then, with perfect timing, Sophia screamed. “Evie! What are you doing?” She let herself fall backward over the deck rail and into the heated pool below. The splash was enormous. “Sophia!” Ethan’s roar came from behind Evie. He jumped into the water, dragged Sophia out, and cradled her against him while she trembled and cried and pointed at Evie. “I only wanted to talk to her. Why would she push me?” The crowd gathered at once. Whispers spread. Ethan crossed the deck in three strides and slapped Evie so hard she hit the ground. Blood filled her mouth. “I didn’t push her,” she said, hand pressed to her swollen cheek. “She jumped.” “Shut up. Sophia can’t even swim. You think she’d risk her life just to frame you?” Ten years of attachment lost to one tear from another woman. He ordered his guards to drag her away. “Put her in the cold storage room. Let her cool off.” It was the ship’s frozen supply compartment. The metal door slammed shut behind her. The freezing air cut through her thin dress at once. Curled in the corner, shaking, she remembered something Ethan had once told her when she was ten and half-frozen in the snow. As long as I’m here, you’ll never be cold again. So vows expired too. By the time her breathing turned shallow and her consciousness started slipping, the heavy steel door exploded open. A tall silhouette stood in the flood of light beyond.

Lucas Grant walked into the freezer and found her half-conscious in the frost. His entire expression changed. He wrapped her in his coat, lifted her into his arms, and carried her out. When Holt security tried to stop him, he gave them one word. “Move.” His men raised guns. The guards backed off. “Anyone who touches my fiancée,” Lucas said, “goes overboard.” Meanwhile, upstairs, Ethan had just calmed Sophia when his assistant rushed in white-faced. “Mr. Grant broke into the freezer and took Ms. Sterling.” Ethan overturned the table so hard the glass exploded. His heart had been uneasy from the moment she was locked in there. Now he finally knew why. When Evie woke up, she was in a warm bedroom under expensive sheets with an IV in her hand. Lucas sat nearby, turning a silver lighter between his fingers. “You saved me.” “More accurately,” he said, “I saved my future wife.” He stepped closer and touched the swelling on her face with startling gentleness. “Do you see Ethan Holt clearly now? Ten years of obedience almost bought you a freezing death.” “I see him clearly now.” He bent close and lowered his voice. “Then make a deal with me. Marry me, and I’ll give you the power to crush Ethan Holt and Sophia Grant under your heel.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “All right.” That was the moment everything changed.

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My fiancé, Evan Carter, was sleeping with my half-sister, Sophia Lynn. At our engagement party, in front of every notable name in the city, I put their intimate video up on the big screen. Overnight, I became the laughingstock of Bay City — and the Lynn family threw me headfirst into Polaris Tech, a company teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. In the middle of a downpour, I picked up a dangerous stranger and paid him half a million dollars to be my security consultant. He was quiet. He was ruthless. He noticed everything. When people came for me, he stepped up. When I was set up, he had my back. When I was accused of stealing someone else’s work, he took every bit of the blame himself. I told him to leave. All he said was, “I’ll make sure you win.” It wasn’t until every truth came to light that I finally understood — the rough stranger I’d pulled off the street was the real power behind Deep Bay Capital. Chapter 1 The night of the engagement party, I blew the whole thing up myself. I put the video on the ballroom screen — footage of my fiancé tangled up with my half-sister, right in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of their hotel room. Hundreds of people in that room. Every face that mattered in Bay City. I was wearing a custom gown worth seven figures and four-inch heels. I walked up to that stage in dead silence. Evan Carter rushed at me to grab the remote. I stepped aside and cracked him across the face with the back of my hand. The sound rang through the whole room over the premium sound system. The screen was supposed to play our love story highlight reel. Instead, it was playing high-definition security footage — the night before, the eve of our engagement party, him and my sister Sophia Lynn kissing by the window. Sophia hiked up her skirt and ran onto the stage, eyes red, reaching out to grab me. I stepped back. “Don’t touch me,” I said coldly. “You disgust me.” Evan stood there with his hand over his cheek, staring at me like he couldn’t believe what was happening. He thought I’d swallow it. That I’d keep my mouth shut to protect the Lynn family’s stake in the business. I picked up the microphone and looked out over the crowd — my father’s face had gone gray, and the guests were already whispering. “In front of everyone here tonight, I’m making this official — the engagement is over. I don’t want any part of this anymore.” I ripped the diamond necklace off my neck and threw it at Evan’s face. Then I turned and walked out of the ballroom. I pushed through the hotel doors and the rain hit me like a wall. No umbrella. No driver. For twenty-four years — ever since my mother died and that woman moved in with Sophia — I had been playing dumb. Keeping my head down. Pretending not to see. I was done pretending. I stood in the rain, shaking from the cold, my stomach cramping so badly I could barely breathe. I’d starved myself for three days to fit into that dress. A beat-up black SUV pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down. The smell of cheap tobacco drifted out. The man in the driver’s seat was wearing a faded black tank top. There was a jagged scar running down his arm. He wasn’t looking at me — he had a cigarette between his lips and his eyes fixed somewhere out in the rain. His profile was sharp enough to cut glass. “You getting in?” His voice was low and rough. I hesitated for a second, then pulled open the door and dropped into the passenger seat. “Drive.” He turned and looked at me. His eyes were black and flat, and the only thing in them was contempt. “My car. I don’t give rides to crazy women in wedding dresses.” I almost laughed. I reached into my clutch, pulled out a black card, and slapped it on the dashboard. “PIN is six zeros. There’s a million dollars on it. Get me out of here. Right now.” He looked at the card. His brow creased slightly, like he was looking at something unpleasant. Half a minute passed. He stubbed out his cigarette. “Buckle up.” The SUV roared out into the storm. Chapter 2 The inside of the car smelled like motor oil and tobacco — rough, but not unpleasant. I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. The pain in my stomach was getting worse. I curled in on myself and pressed hard against my abdomen, trying to hold it together. “Where to?” he asked, out of nowhere. “Doesn’t matter.” I said it through clenched teeth. The car jerked to a hard stop at the side of the road. He got out. A few minutes later he came back, damp from the rain, and tossed a plastic bag into my lap. “Eat.” I opened it. Inside was a container of hot noodle soup, still steaming, and a box of antacids. I just stared at it. How did he know my stomach was hurting? “You’ve been holding your stomach the whole time. You’re white as a ghost.” His tone hadn’t warmed at all. “I don’t want a body in my car. Bad enough already.” I looked down at the soup in my hands, and my eyes started to sting. Three years together, and my fiancé never once knew I had a serious stomach condition. A complete stranger figured it out in ten minutes. I didn’t say anything. I just ate — fast, barely stopping to breathe. Cheap noodles and hot broth. Better than anything on the table at that party tonight. By the time I finished and took the antacids, I finally felt like a human being again. I turned and looked at him properly. He was young — twenty-two, twenty-three at most — but his eyes were deep and still, like the bottom of a dry well. No light in them at all. “What’s your name?” I asked. “Luca Hale.” He kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Luca Hale.” I turned the name over in my mouth. “Good name. Has an edge to it.” I pulled out a napkin and wiped my lips. “One million. Three months of your time. You in?” He finally turned to look at me, eyes sharp with suspicion. “For what?” “My driver. Security consultant. And someone to put down a few dogs that don’t know their place.” The Lynn family and Carter family alliance had fallen apart. My father wasn’t going to let that slide. Sophia and Evan would be working against me from the shadows, too. I needed someone outside that world — someone who could protect me. This Luca Hale had something about him. A recklessness. Like he had nothing left to lose. He was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t need a million. Five hundred thousand. Half upfront, the rest when the three months are up.” That surprised me. “Deal.” “So.” He glanced over. “Where to?” I gave him an address. “East side. Polaris Tech.” It was a subsidiary under the Lynn family — barely staying afloat, bleeding out. My father had arranged it in advance, his way of punishing me for blowing up the engagement party. His idea of exile. He thought throwing me into that wreck of a company would break me. Make me crawl back. He was wrong. Polaris Tech was exactly where I was going to tear off the mask and start burning everything down. The car pulled back onto the road. The rain was easing up. I watched the city blur past the window, a cold smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. Evan Carter. Sophia Lynn. Everything you took from me — I’m coming to collect. With interest. Chapter 3 The Polaris Tech office building looked like a relic from the last century. Paint peeling off the walls. The elevator plastered with flyers and ads. I walked ahead, heels clicking against the floor. Luca followed silently behind me in a black tank top, like an immovable wall of darkness. I pushed open the conference room door and walked into a haze of smoke. A group of department managers were huddled around a table playing cards. The surface was buried under cigarette ash and takeout containers. Not one of them looked up when I walked in. “Well, well. If it isn’t the precious Miss Lynn.” It was Martin Beck, the head of the project department. “What’s the occasion? Did you actually find time in your busy schedule to grace our little dump with a visit?” He was a distant relative on Sophia’s mother’s side — planted here to skim off the top. I ignored him and walked straight to the head of the table. “Put your cards down.” Nobody moved. Martin even blew a smug smoke ring in my direction. I turned and looked at Luca. Just one look. That was enough. Luca crossed the room to where Martin was sitting. Without a word, he reached out, grabbed Martin by the collar, and hauled him clean out of his chair like he weighed nothing. “What the hell — let go of me!” Martin shrieked. Luca didn’t waste words. He grabbed Martin by the head and slammed it into the conference table. Bang. Cards and ashtrays scattered across the floor. Martin slumped over the table, bleeding, moaning into the surface. The room went dead silent. The other managers sat frozen, faces drained of color, not daring to breathe. “Now.” I leaned back in my chair and studied my fresh manicure. “Can we have a conversation?” “Starting today, I run Polaris Tech. Martin Beck — you’re fired. Pack your things and get out. The rest of you: I want every financial report and project status update from the past three years on my desk within thirty minutes. Anyone who can’t make that happen can follow him out the door.” I stood, walked out of the conference room, and didn’t look back. Luca released his grip and dropped Martin on the floor like a bag of trash, then fell into step behind me without rushing. Back in the executive office, thick with dust. I looked at Luca standing in the doorway like a dark sentinel. “Nice work.” “I get paid to work.” His tone was flat, like he’d just stepped on an ant. Over the next week, I tore through Polaris Tech like a storm. Every dead-weight freeloader was cut. Performance reviews were rewritten from the ground up. The people who’d been waiting to watch me fail went quiet. They finally understood — the so-called spoiled little rich girl who only knew how to shop was actually a viper. And she ate people alive. Throughout all of it, Luca never left my side. He barely spoke. Almost never initiated conversation. But he always had a glass of warm water ready when I needed it, and whenever I stayed late into the night, a hot meal would appear on my desk without a word. He functioned like a machine with no feelings — executing every instruction with perfect precision. But sometimes, in an unguarded moment, I’d catch him watching me. His gaze was deep and still, like he was looking through me at someone else — or like he was holding something back. Something that could break through at any moment. It unsettled me. I was used to having control over everything. But Luca was a variable I couldn’t calculate. He was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made your skin crawl. That afternoon, I was working through a proposal for a core AI algorithm. This was Polaris Tech’s only shot at survival. If we could win next month’s city contract bid, the company could turn everything around. But our current dev team couldn’t write the low-level code the contract required. Not even close. I pressed my fingers against my temples, frustration building to a breaking point. Then the office door opened. Luca stepped in. “Miss Lynn. Evan Carter is here.” The moment I heard that name, my expression went cold. “What does he want?” “He says he has a gift for you.” Luca stepped aside. Evan walked in wearing a tailored suit, looking every bit the part. Sophia was right behind him, their fingers laced together, the two of them practically glowing — like they’d shown up specifically to rub it in my face. I let out a short laugh and settled back into my chair. “Mr. Carter and Sophia — what a surprise. The engagement party never happened, so you two decided to honeymoon in my little dump instead?” Chapter 4 Evan Carter’s expression flickered for just a second before that sickening smile slid back into place. “Summer, you’re still upset with me. What happened that day — it was all a misunderstanding.” “A misunderstanding?” I raised an eyebrow. “When you had Sophia pinned against that glass wall, were you giving her CPR?” Sophia’s eyes went red instantly. “Summer, please don’t talk about Evan like that. It’s my fault — I couldn’t control my emotions—” “Shut up.” I cut her off, my voice ice-cold. “Nobody asked you. Put away the whole poor-little-me act. It makes me sick.” She shrank at my words, shoulders pulling in, and slipped behind Evan with a soft whimper, tears starting to fall. Evan pulled her close immediately, and the look he gave me was pure, undisguised contempt. “Summer Lynn, you used to be spoiled, sure — but at least you had some decency. When did you turn so cruel?” I almost laughed. “You two have a lot of nerve asking me that.” I wasn’t going to waste any more breath on them. “Say what you came to say and get out.” Evan drew a slow breath and pulled a document from his briefcase, slapping it onto my desk. “The city contract bid next month — it’s already been decided. Carter Tech has it locked.” He looked down at me with this smug, almost pitying satisfaction in his eyes. “I know you took over Polaris Tech to prove something to your father. But that company is a mess from the ground up. You have no shot.” “All you have to do is back down. Apologize to me. Sign over the development rights to the Lynn family property.” “Do that, and I’ll consider throwing Polaris a few scraps from the project. Enough to save face with your dad.” I stared at the document on the desk. My fingertips went cold. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. He didn’t just want to ruin me — he wanted to grind my dignity into nothing. Wanted me to crawl and beg. “Get out.” Two words. That was all. Evan’s face darkened like a storm rolling in. “Summer Lynn, don’t push your luck! You really think you’re still the spoiled little princess of the Lynn family? You’re nothing. You got thrown out like garbage!” He lunged forward, hand shooting out to grab my wrist. But he never made contact. A hand — knuckles sharp, grip like iron — clamped around his wrist and stopped him cold. Luca Hale. I hadn’t even heard him move. He was already beside me, his body squarely between me and Evan. “She told you to get out.” Luca’s voice was low. Dangerously quiet. Evan yanked hard against his grip — once, twice — and went nowhere. His face flushed with humiliation and fury. He jabbed a finger at Luca’s face. “Who the hell are you? You’re a security consultant. You don’t get to put your hands on me.” Luca didn’t bother to respond. His eyes went flat, and in one sharp motion, he twisted his wrist. A clean, brutal crack. Evan screamed and hit the floor on his knees, his wrist wrenched out of the socket. “Evan!” Sophia shrieked and threw herself toward him, face drained white. Luca looked down at the two of them with the same expression you’d give a pair of insects on the pavement. “Stay down. Next time it won’t just be the wrist.” Evan was drenched in sweat, trembling, eyes burning with hatred as he glared up at me and Luca. “Summer Lynn — you’ll regret this. I will make sure you can’t show your face in Bay City again.” He snarled the words through gritted teeth. Then, leaning on Sophia, he stumbled out of the executive office in a mess of pride and pain. Silence settled back over the room. I watched Luca. He stood there shaking out his wrist like he’d just tossed out a bag of trash. “You went too far,” I said, pressing my fingers to my temple. “The Carters aren’t going to let this go.” Luca turned and looked at me — really looked at me — his eyes sharp and burning with something I couldn’t quite name. “He was going to touch you.” Each word deliberate. “You’re paying me. I don’t let anyone touch you.” My heart skipped — just once, just slightly — and I turned away before he could see it. “There’s a dinner tonight,” I said, forcing the subject somewhere else. “You’re coming with me.” I had no choice. To get the funding that could save the company, I had to meet Harris — one of the most notoriously difficult investors in the circuit. Eight o’clock. A private room at the Bay Club. The lights were low, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol. Harris was a bald man somewhere in his fifties. From the moment I walked through the door, his eyes had been crawling over me and not stopping. I kept my expression neutral and my glass in hand, playing the game through gritted teeth. “Miss Lynn,” he said, drawing it out, “I know Polaris Tech’s situation. The risk is just too high.” As he spoke, his hand drifted to my knee. “But then again… if you were to ask me yourself, personally, maybe we could work something out…” He leaned in closer. His breath hit my face, stale and suffocating. My stomach turned. I was just about to grab the wine bottle off the table and smash it over his head when the door to the private room was kicked wide open. The bang made everyone jump. Luca Hale stood in the doorway. The light from the room caught him—tight muscles, eyes cold as ice. He crossed the room in long strides, grabbed Harris by the hair, and dragged him straight off the couch. “What are you doing! Security! Security!” Harris shrieked at the top of his lungs. Luca didn’t bother responding. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the table and smashed it over Harris’s head. Glass shards, alcohol, and blood ran down Harris’s face. The entire room went dead silent. Luca tossed aside the broken glass and slowly, methodically wiped his hands with a napkin. Then he turned and looked at me. One word: “Let’s go.” His tone left no room for argument.

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