Category: English

My phone suddenly received a call that I couldn’t hang up. The male voice on the other end belonged to my husband. The female voice belonged to his mistress. A muffled conversation kept playing. They were detailing a perfect murder plot against someone. Every step was chillingly precise. I tried to call 911, but every number I dialed was automatically routed back to this ongoing call. After a grueling process of deduction, I finally pinpointed the location they were describing. It was my own house. And right now, a sudden, urgent knock echoed from my bedroom door. This was step one of their murder plan. The knocking on the door was extremely rhythmic. Three long, one short. It was a unique habit of my husband, Julian. The un-hang-up-able call on my phone was still playing. On the line, Julian’s voice was cold to the core. “The sleeping pills are already in her warm milk.” “Once she drinks it, we can set up the suicide scene.” Outside the door, Julian’s voice came through, soft and gentle. “Clara, honey, I made you some warm milk. Open the door.” I stood behind the door, keeping silent. If I didn’t open it, he would definitely use his key. I turned around, rushed to the dining table, and slipped a vitamin tablet between my fingers. Then, I opened the door. Julian walked in, holding a steaming glass of milk. His mother, Martha, followed closely behind. Her eyes darted around shiftily. Julian handed me the glass with a warm smile. “Babe, you’ve been working too hard lately. Drink this while it’s hot and get some good sleep.” I looked down at the pure white liquid. “It’s too hot,” I said, taking the glass. “Let me get a napkin first.” I turned my back to them, blocking their view. I tilted my wrist. The entire glass of milk poured right into the soil of the lush monstera plant next to the TV stand. In the same motion, I popped the vitamin tablet into my mouth, crushed it, and swallowed. I turned back and placed the empty glass, still stained with a ring of milk, on the table. Julian walked over and glanced at the empty glass. He exchanged a look with his mother. Then, he looked at me. “Why don’t you lie down on the couch for a bit?” I nodded, pretending my limbs were heavy, and shuffled to the couch. I collapsed onto the cushions and closed my eyes. My breathing slowed down, becoming deep and even. The living room fell dead silent, save for the ticking of the wall clock. A moment later, I heard Julian let out a long sigh of relief. Immediately after, the bedroom door was pushed open from the inside. Light footsteps approached. “Is she completely out?” A young woman’s voice whispered. It was Vivian, the nurse from Julian’s private clinic. So, she had been hiding in our house this whole time. Martha immediately complained in a hushed, harsh whisper. “Why did the drug take so long to kick in?” “Hurry up and do it.” “I checked the ceiling beam on the balcony this afternoon. It can easily hold an adult’s weight.” The footsteps stopped right beside me. Vivian leaned over. Her perfume, mixed with the faint scent of chemical disinfectant, invaded my nose. The rough texture of a hemp rope brushed against the skin of my neck. She began measuring the rope around my neck to tie the noose. “Don’t leave any struggle marks. It has to look natural,” Julian whispered. “I know,” Vivian’s voice held a trace of sick excitement. “Once she’s dead, we’re finally free.” Martha urged from the side. “Hurry up! Don’t waste time. I’m going to file the paperwork for this house and her bank accounts first thing tomorrow.” “Once Vivian gives birth to my grandbaby, our family can finally live in peace.” They were practicing a murder right in front of me, on my own body. Julian walked back to the table. The sound of paper rustling echoed. He placed a piece of paper on the table. “The suicide note is ready.” “Now, let’s hang her up.” Vivian’s hands tightened around my neck, pulling the loop closed. “I’ll lift her up, you kick the chair,” Julian said, stepping closer. The exact second Vivian exerted force to tighten the rope. I snapped my eyes wide open. The living room instantly fell into a graveyard silence. Vivian shrieked, her hands trembling as she lost her balance and fell flat on her butt. Julian’s outstretched hands froze in mid-air. Martha gasped loudly, slapping her hand over her mouth. The three of them froze like statues, their eyes bulging out, staring at me in sheer terror. I sat up, ripped the rope off my neck, and tossed it to the floor. Ignoring their horrified stares, I reached over and grabbed the suicide note from the table. My eyes swept over the words. I looked at Julian and spoke coldly. “Very touching.” I slapped the paper back onto the table. “But if you want to fake my suicide by hanging, don’t you think you need to edit this note first?”

Julian’s face turned from pale to livid. He looked at the rope on the floor, then at my completely sober eyes, finally realizing what was happening. He gritted his teeth, his expression turning dark as he stepped toward me. “You didn’t drink the milk.” “Well, since you didn’t take the drug, you can die awake.” He shot a look at Vivian. Vivian scrambled up from the floor, grabbed the rope, and lunged at me. I let out a cold laugh. “Dr. Julian, don’t you even know the basic legal regulations when you try to commit a murder?” I pointed at the suicide note. “Your note says I hung myself due to severe, untreated clinical depression.” “But as the President of the HOA, I just led a community blood drive last Friday. My blood sample is registered in the national database, and it’s completely clean.” “A patient with ‘severe depression’ who has zero traces of anti-depressants in her system for months?” “The moment the medical examiner runs a toxicology report on my blood and hair, your ‘depression’ story is going to blow up in your face!” Julian’s footsteps abruptly stopped. Vivian panicked. She stood frozen with the rope, looking back at Julian. Martha’s face flushed red with rage. She lunged forward, claws out, trying to strangle me herself. “Who cares about that! Just kill her first!” I quickly stepped back, grabbed the heavy glass ashtray from the table, and slammed it onto the tile floor. With a loud crash, glass shattered everywhere. Martha shrieked and pulled her hands back. I glared at them. “And how do you plan to handle my body?” “Take it straight to the crematorium? Keep dreaming!” “In this district, any death that doesn’t happen under a doctor’s care in a hospital is classified as an unattended death.” “The crematorium won’t touch a body without a Coroner’s release form and a police report!” “You run a tiny, private neighborhood clinic. What authority do you have to sign a death certificate for an unattended death?” “The moment you try to move my body out of this building, the police will open a homicide investigation!” Silence enveloped the room. Vivian’s hands began to shake violently, and the rope slipped to the floor. Martha looked at Julian, terrified. “Julian… is… is she telling the truth?” I stared at Julian coldly. I thought these basic legal facts would be enough to terrify them. After all, they wanted a perfect suicide, not a messy homicide that would make them wanted fugitives. But right then, something incredibly bizarre happened. Julian actually smiled. He wasn’t scared at all. Instead, he casually walked over to the couch and sat down. Vivian stopped shaking, too. She stepped forward, grabbed the suicide note from the table, and tore it to shreds, piece by piece, right in front of me. She tossed the shredded paper into the trash can. Martha sighed, her face twisting into an expression of fake, mocking sympathy. “I told you,” Martha said sneeringly. “Her mental illness is getting worse. She’s completely delusional.” “Ranting about murder, she doesn’t even recognize her own family anymore.” My brows furrowed as I watched their sudden change in behavior. Julian pulled his phone out of his pocket. He looked at me, his voice as cold as ice. “Clara, your paranoid schizophrenia is flaring up again.” “What murder?” “That suicide note was just some garbage paper you scribbled during your episode. Vivian tore it up so it wouldn’t trigger you.” “And that rope? It’s just a cable for repairing the balcony.” He tapped his phone screen. “Your mental state is extremely unstable right now, and you’re exhibiting violent behavior.” “As your husband, I have no choice but to call the psychiatric hospital to pick you up.” My blood ran cold.

I could not let them take me to a psychiatric hospital. Once I was locked in there, any “accident” would easily be written off as a real suicide. I immediately reached into my pocket for my phone to call 911. The screen lit up. But in the top left corner, the signal bars showed a red “No Service.” Julian pointed smugly to the corner behind the door. “Don’t waste your breath.” “Before I came in, I turned on a medical-grade signal jammer.” “You can’t send a single text.” I didn’t panic. Instead, I pointed to a small, inconspicuous white box mounted on the baseboard. “You forgot what I do for a living.” “That is a Life Alert emergency button for the elderly in our community.” “It runs on a dedicated, low-frequency cellular band. Your cheap jammer can’t block it.” When I had stepped back to smash the ashtray earlier, my heel had already pressed that button. The moment the words left my mouth, heavy pounding erupted on the front door. “Clara! Open up! It’s Lily!” The door wasn’t locked. Lily, my HOA assistant, burst in. Right behind her were two police officers from the local precinct. It was like finding a lifeline in a stormy sea. I screamed immediately, “Officers! They are trying to kill me!” “The milk in that pot is poisoned! And they have a rope to hang me!” The officers instantly went on high alert, stepping between us. “Nobody move! What’s going on here?” the lead officer demanded. I pointed at the monstera plant. “Test the soil! The milk poured in there is full of sleeping pills!” The officer glanced at Julian and nodded to the accompanying forensic tech to take a sample of the wet soil. Five minutes later, the tech looked at the screen of his rapid-testing device. He looked up at the officer and shook his head. “It’s just regular calcium powder drink. No traces of sedatives or toxins.” I felt like I had fallen into an abyss. “That’s impossible!” I pointed frantically at the rope on the floor. “What about the rope?! They tried to put it around my neck!” Lily looked at me, her face filled with awkward concern. “Clara… Julian bought that cable today to secure your balcony railing. I literally registered his maintenance request this afternoon.” Lily avoided my eyes, asking softly, “Clara… did you forget to take your medication again?” I froze. “What medication?” Lily pulled a thick folder from her bag and handed it to the police. “Officers, these are Clara’s medical records.” Inside were medical reports from various psychiatric clinics over the past six months. There was even a video of me losing my temper and slamming a table during an HOA meeting. I stared at Julian in horror. Over the past six months, he had used his medical knowledge to slip micro-doses of hallucinogenic drugs into my food. It kept me in a constant state of irritability and paranoia. He had spent months painting a picture for the entire neighborhood: “Clara is a poor, unstable woman.” The officers’ guarded looks turned into sympathy. The lead officer handed the files back to Lily and sighed. I desperately pulled out my phone. “I am not crazy!” “There is a call on my phone that won’t hang up! It recorded them planning to kill me tonight! Listen!” I tapped the audio to play it out loud. But what came out of the speaker… Was not a murder conspiracy. It was the dialogue of a mystery audiobook I had downloaded three months ago! Julian must have used our shared cloud drive while I was in the shower to force-lock this audio on a loop in my phone’s background. All my evidence… In this very second, was rendered completely useless in a perfectly legal, undeniable way.

The lead officer sighed. He stepped forward and spoke to me in a very gentle, soothing tone. “Clara, please calm down. Take a deep breath.” Then, he turned to Julian. “Dr. Julian, your wife’s condition is very unstable. It’s not safe for her to stay home.” “You should contact a specialized facility immediately.” “If needed, we can assist you with an involuntary hold so she doesn’t hurt herself.” Julian’s eyes turned red. He put on a perfect performance of an exhausted, devoted husband. He walked over, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, his voice cracking with emotion. “Thank you, officer.” “I’ve already contacted the private care facility. The ambulance should be here any minute.” He looked down at me, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph. “Sweetie, we’ll get you some help. I don’t blame you.” I struggled wildly. “Get off me! I am not sick!” Vivian immediately stepped forward in her nurse’s uniform. She held a pre-filled syringe in her hand. “Clara, please hold still.” “Your heart rate is too high. You might go into shock. I’m going to give you a mild sedative to help you rest.” The police stood right there, watching. To them, this was “professional medical staff treating a manic patient.” They had no reason to stop her. The cold needle brushed against my vein. Once this drug entered my system… I would lose all ability to fight back, and I would be dragged into a hell I could never escape. Every path was blocked. I looked into Julian’s mocking eyes. He had won. He had dismantled all my logic and common sense. Every second felt like an eternity. Just as the needle was about to pierce my skin… My eyes fell on Julian’s shoes. They were the leather shoes he usually wore at his clinic. In the crevices of the soles, there was a tiny trace of dark red powder. That wasn’t regular dirt. Suddenly, everything clicked in my mind. “So that’s what this is…”

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Our sister was struck down by his personal assistant in a brutal drunk-driving accident on her way home from school. She died in the ER after they failed to resuscitate her. I filed a lawsuit immediately, demanding justice. But on the day of the trial, my parents were kidnapped and tied up in an abandoned warehouse, their bodies strapped with active C4 explosives. My husband, Ethan Miller, stood over me, his eyes colder than ice. “If you don’t drop the charges, I can’t guarantee these bombs won’t go off. Your sister is already dead, Serena. Why do you have to ruin another young girl’s life?” “If your sister hadn’t run out into the street like an idiot, Chloe wouldn’t have panicked and hit the gas instead of the brake. Strictly speaking, your sister brought this on herself!” At that moment, it clicked. Ethan thought the girl who died was my sister, Maya. That was why he was willing to risk my parents’ lives just to force me to drop the lawsuit! I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Dropping the charges requires the immediate family’s signature. I don’t have the right to sign that.”

Ethan was famously known in New York as an overprotective, borderline obsessive older brother. If his little sister so much as scraped her knee, he would turn the entire city upside down to find whoever was responsible. Later, terrified that some street hoodlum might trick her into dating, he sent her to an elite all-girls boarding school during high school, paying over a million dollars a year in tuition. Seeing me refuse to sign, Ethan’s face darkened instantly. “Serena, I am telling you what’s going to happen, not negotiating with you.” “Chloe just graduated college. Are you really that malicious that you want to destroy the rest of her life?” “Besides, your sister would have married into some other family anyway. Tell you what, I’ll throw in some extra cash for your parents. Consider it a generous compensation package.” He glanced at my terrified parents tied to the chairs, his eyes flashing with a menacing threat. “You better make up your mind fast. I can’t promise how much time is left on those timers!” Looking at Ethan’s smug, victorious face, my heart went completely numb. To bail his precious assistant Chloe out of a prison sentence, he was actually using my parents’ lives to blackmail me! I stared at the ticking countdown on the bombs, my chest tight with agony. “Ethan, are you even human? The girl who was crushed to death under that car was “our” sister!” Ethan’s eyes narrowed, and he corrected me in a freezing tone. “She was “your” sister. Not mine.” I stared at him and chuckled quietly. I had simply said “our sister,” and he couldn’t wait to draw a line in the sand. If he knew that the girl lying cold in the morgue was his own flesh-and-blood sister, would he still be forcing me to sign this liability waiver? Ethan’s parents passed away when he was eighteen. At the time, his uncles kidnapped him and his sister to steal their inheritance. To help Ethan escape, his little sister stayed behind to distract the kidnappers. She was tortured in their basement for three days and three nights. When they finally found her, she was barely breathing. From that day on, Ethan swore to God he would protect his sister and never let her suffer a single scratch. Thinking of the horror Lily had endured in the past, I couldn’t help but sigh. “Ethan, did you know that when she was hit, she was still breathing? It was Chloe. She was terrified of the medical bills and the legal fallout, so she put the car in reverse and ran her over a second time, crushing her to death.” Ethan remained completely unmoved. He slapped a settlement and liability waiver onto the table in front of me. “That was just a death rattle. Besides, living as a vegetable would have been torture for her anyway. Dying quickly was a mercy. At least now she can secure a nice payout for your parents.” Looking at the utter disgust in Ethan’s eyes, my heart completely shattered. “Ethan, she only went out that day to buy a birthday cake for you. That’s why Chloe hit her.”

Ethan looked down at me, his eyes filled with nothing but cold indifference. “Your sister only bought me that cake to kiss up to the Miller family. I never cared about her cheap gestures anyway.” “Sign the papers. Now. Stop wasting my time!” Ethan gripped my shoulder with an iron, bruising grip, forcing me to look at my parents, who were shaking violently under the strapped explosives. I looked at the timer. Less than three minutes left. I bit my lip so hard it bled. “Ethan, if my parents hadn’t used every single one of their political and business connections to bail you out when your uncles tried to ruin you, do you think you’d be sitting in the CEO chair of Miller Enterprises today?” Ethan glanced at my parents’ pale, aging faces, his lips curling into a sneer. “They only helped me so you could secure your title as Mrs. Miller. Don’t act like it was charity.” His words stripped away the last piece of warmth in my soul. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Fine. I’ll sign.” Satisfied with my answer, Ethan finally smirked and nodded to his bodyguards. “Cut them loose.” Then, he turned to me with a warning glare. “I’m releasing this signed waiver to Snapchat and Ins immediately. Don’t even think about filing a second lawsuit.” Without hesitation, he authorized a ten-million-dollar wire transfer to my account. “This is the compensation for your sister. Take it and never bother Chloe again.” I looked at the long string of zeros on my phone screen and instantly hit “Decline Transfer.” “Keep your blood money. After all, I’m not the victim’s family.” Ethan’s face turned bright red with rage. “Serena, your sister’s death has nothing to do with me. But if I catch you cursing my sister or bringing her into this, I will personally ruin you!” With that, he grabbed the signed waiver and walked out without looking back. The moment Ethan left, the adrenaline faded, and I collapsed into my parents’ arms, sobbing. My mother held me tightly, her tears wetting my hair. “Serena, you used everything we had to build his empire and put him on that throne. Was he really worth it?” A freezing coldness settled in my eyes. I looked up at her. “Mom, tell Grandpa Arthur to cancel every single contract and partnership we have with Miller Enterprises. I’m divorcing him.” The only reason Ethan survived his uncles was because my grandfather supported him from the shadows. Since he was bored of being the powerful CEO, it was time to drag him back down to the dirt. Looking at the bruises on my parents, I didn’t waste any more time. I immediately took them to the hospital for a full checkup. Thankfully, they were just shaken up and had minor bruises. They just needed a few days of rest in a private room. Right after I finished the admission paperwork, I saw Ethan walking down the hallway, supporting Chloe. Chloe was leaning weakly against his chest, looking like a fragile victim. “Ethan, ever since the accident, every time I close my eyes, I see that horrible, bloody scene. The doctor says I have severe clinical depression and PTSD. I need to be admitted, but all the private rooms are fully booked!” Ethan’s eyes locked onto the private room behind me. His face hardened. “Serena, tell your parents to pack up and give this room to Chloe.” I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. “Ethan, you kidnapped my parents and left them bruised and traumatized. And now you want them to give up their room to the murderer who killed a young girl?” Hearing this, Chloe smirked slightly before quickly hiding it behind a pout. “The car accident was just an unfortunate event! Besides, didn’t your family already take Ethan’s money? Or are you just pretending to be poor so you can extort even more money from him using your parents?” The nurses and visitors in the hallway began whispering and pointing at my parents and me.

“Oh, so that’s them! They made such a big scene online about demanding justice for their sister, but in the end, they just took the hush money and skipped the trial!” “Taking the cash and then coming to the hospital to play the victim? Talk about greedy. They probably want another payout.” “How shameless. Selling their sister’s life for a luxury lifestyle, and now they’re using their elderly parents to squeeze out more.” Ethan looked at me with disgust. “Since your family took the money, stop using your sister’s ghost to gain sympathy. Get your parents out of that room. Chloe needs it.” “Besides, if you hadn’t harassed her with that lawsuit, her depression wouldn’t have triggered. Your family owes her this.” I let out a hysterical laugh. “Chloe is the one who ran someone over. We don’t owe anyone anything!” Seeing my stubborn refusal, Ethan’s face turned ugly. “If ten million wasn’t enough, I’ll transfer you another ten million. Just get out of the room.” Chloe chimed in, “Twenty million is enough to buy your whole family’s lives, Serena. Be happy with what you got.” Ethan gave a sharp nod to the guards standing behind him. Instantly, several beefy men rushed into the room and began violently dragging my parents off the hospital bed! My heart dropped. I threw myself in front of my parents, staring at Ethan with pure hatred. “Ethan! My parents are still legally your in-laws! Aren’t you afraid of divine retribution?” Ethan sneered. “Serena, everything you have was given to you by me. Your parents are only in this high-end hospital because of the Miller family name.” I looked at him and smiled slowly, a chilling, mocking smile. “Ethan… how long has it been since you actually spoke to your own sister?” At the mention of his sister, Ethan froze for a fraction of a second, but his face quickly turned hostile again. “Your sister died because she was unlucky and stupid. She deserved it!” “My sister is perfectly safe at her boarding school. Do not compare my sweet Lily to your low-class sister!” I whispered softly, “You’ll find out soon enough who actually deserved to die.” Over the next few days, Ethan stayed by Chloe’s side at the hospital, playing the devoted caretaker. Because of this, the city morgue couldn’t reach him. In desperation, they called me. Lily’s body had been held past the limit. She had to be buried or cremated immediately. Remembering how Lily used to sweetly call me her big sister, my heart softened. I quietly organized a small funeral service for her. On the day of the funeral, I was walking with the hearse toward the Miller family private cemetery. From the opposite direction, Ethan and Chloe approached us. Seeing the black coffin, Chloe immediately pinched her nose and looked disgusted. “I just got discharged today, and the first thing I see is a coffin? Talk about bad luck!” “And Serena, why are you burying someone who died a violent death in the prestigious Miller family cemetery? Are you trying to make Ethan the laughingstock of all New York high society?” Ethan’s face was twisted in rage. “Serena! Why the hell are you bringing your sister’s dead body to my family’s cemetery? Are you trying to defile my family’s land?” My eyes turned bloodshot as I stared at the two of them. My hands trembled with fury. “Chloe, you are a cold-blooded murderer. What right do you have to speak about the dead? Aren’t you afraid she’ll crawl out of the dirt tonight and drag you to hell with her?” Chloe whimpered, looking terrified, and hid behind Ethan. “Ethan… seeing that coffin makes me relive the crash. I… I think my panic attack is starting again!”

“If she gets buried here, my mental health will be ruined forever!” Hearing this, Ethan immediately pulled her into a protective embrace, before turning to his guards with a savage look. “A dead nobody doesn’t belong in the Miller family plot. Take the coffin to the cheap public crematorium, burn her, and dump the ashes in the ocean.” Before I could react, several guards stepped forward and violently shoved me out of the way. My back slammed hard against the wooden coffin, a sharp, white-hot pain radiating through my spine. As the guards began using crowbars to force the coffin open right there on the road, I scrambled up from the dirt like a madwoman. “Ethan! Stop! You cannot do this to her!” Ethan scoffed. “Since your family accepted the blood money, her corpse belongs to me. I can do whatever the hell I want with it!” With a loud crack, the guard pried the lid open. Another guard reached in and ruthlessly dragged the body out of the silk lining, tossing it onto the grass like a sack of trash. “Ah!” Chloe screamed in terror at the sight of the pale, bloated body. She stumbled backward, knocking over a heavy ceremonial oil lantern used for the funeral procession. The lantern shattered, and the burning oil splashed instantly across Lily’s body. Within seconds, the corpse was engulfed in roaring flames. Staring at the burning body, Chloe looked up with watery, innocent eyes. “Ethan… I didn’t mean to! I was just so scared of the body that I lost my balance…” Ethan patted her back gently, comforting her. “It’s not your fault. Honestly, burning it here saves us a trip to the crematorium anyway.” I stared at Ethan, my eyes wide and bloodshot, my voice barely a whisper. “Ethan… I hope you never regret what you did today.” Ethan let out a mocking laugh. “Why would I ever regret burning your useless sister?” With that, he lifted Chloe up in a bridal carry, stepped carelessly over the burning corpse, and walked back toward his luxury SUV. I watched his retreating back, my fists clenched so hard my knuckles popped. If he had looked at the burning body for just one second… he would have noticed the silver promise ring on her charred finger. The ring he bought his sister for her sixteenth birthday. After putting out the fire and taking care of Lily’s ashes, I dragged my exhausted body back to the penthouse. The moment I pushed the door open, I saw Chloe sitting on Ethan’s lap, feeding him grapes. Seeing me, Chloe rolled her eyes. “Ugh, Serena. You just touched a dead body. Go wash up, don’t bring that bad juju into this house.” Ethan gave me a cold, warning look. “Don’t ever think about burying your family members in my cemetery again. It’s not meant for peasants.” I looked at the two of them, suddenly feeling a profound sense of disgust. I pulled a document out of my bag and threw it onto the coffee table. “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.” Ethan stared at the divorce papers, stunned for a second, before slamming his hand on the table and standing up in a fury. “Just because your sister got run over, you want to divorce me?” I nodded quietly. “Yes. Because she got run over.” Ethan sneered. “Serena, everything you have is because of me. Once you leave this penthouse, you’ll be nothing but damaged goods. No man in New York will ever look at you.” Chloe smiled like a snake. “Serena, you’ve been an unemployed housewife for years. If you leave Ethan, you won’t even be able to pay rent. Ethan is worth billions!” I looked at her and smiled. “If you want him so badly, you can have him.” Without another word, I turned and walked out of that toxic house forever.

That very afternoon, I hired the best divorce attorney in New York and filed the papers. Ethan didn’t think I’d actually go through with it. He spammed my Snapchat with dozens of angry voice notes. “Serena, you think you’re tough now? You just dropped the charges against Chloe, and now you’re suing me for divorce?” “You haven’t worked a single day since we got married. Let’s see how you survive in this city without my credit cards!” “You want a divorce? Fine. But you’re leaving with absolutely nothing. You won’t get a single penny of the Miller fortune!” To make matters worse, Ethan started spreading rumors online. He posted on Snapchat and Ins, claiming that I had cheated on him, and that I was using my sister’s “wrongful death payout” to fund a lavish lifestyle with my secret lover. The day of the court hearing arrived quickly. Because the drunk-driving case had already gained a lot of traction online, a massive crowd of reporters and bystanders blocked the courthouse steps. “Serena! Is it true you dropped the charges against Chloe just to take a hush-money payout?” “Serena, are you really divorcing your husband to run away with your lover using your sister’s blood money?” Ethan stood at the top of the steps, looking down at me with a smirk. “Serena, it’s not too late to call this off. If we go inside, I will make sure you leave with absolutely nothing.” I looked up at him and smiled coldly. “I’ll let the judge make that decision.” I walked past him and entered the courtroom. The trial began. Ethan sat at the defense table. His lawyer presented the ten-million-dollar wire transfer record along with photos of me entering hotels with various business associates (which were actually my grandfather’s executives). Ethan looked at me with a fake sigh of pity. “Serena, this should have been kept private. You forced my hand. I hope you don’t blame me.” “If your sister knew you were using her death to hook up with other men, she wouldn’t be able to rest in peace.” I looked at his hypocritical face and whispered, “I’ll ask her if she’s resting in peace. But as for your sister… I don’t think she is.” Suddenly, a young, vibrant girl stood up from the spectator gallery. “I’m literally standing right here. Who exactly died and left behind blood money?” Ethan froze. His eyes widened, and his pupils dilated in pure shock as he stared at the girl’s face. “M-Maya?! You’re alive?!” “Then… who died?” The entire courtroom erupted into whispers! “Wait, isn’t that Serena’s sister? She’s alive?” “What the hell? Is this a ghost story?” “If Serena’s sister is alive… then who was the girl crushed under the car? Didn’t Ethan have a little sister around the same age? Oh my god… could it be…?” Hearing the murmurs, Ethan began to tremble violently. He glared at me, his voice shaking. “Serena! You told me your sister died! What is this trick?!” I glanced at Chloe, who was sitting next to him, and smiled. “Whether my sister is dead or alive… shouldn’t your assistant Chloe know best?” Ethan stiffened. He turned his head slowly, staring at Chloe with a terrifying gaze. “Chloe… tell me. Who did you hit that day?” Chloe shook violently under his gaze and grabbed his arm in a panic.

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That night, Tristan Sterling shoved me out of his car, my clothes in disarray, my skin covered with fresh love bites. People on the sidewalk raised their phones and whispered, “Isn’t that the Vance heiress? Did Tristan Sterling get tired of her and dump her on the side of the road?” I bit my lip until I tasted blood, hailed a cab, and told the driver to follow his car. I needed to see the woman who could make him abandon me without a second thought. Half an hour later, through the hotel window, I watched him take off his coat and gently wrap it around a woman wearing nothing but pajamas before carefully lifting her into his arms and carrying her inside. At that exact moment, a news alert flashed across my phone: “Sterling Group CEO Tristan Sterling Spotted Picking Up a Mysterious Woman Late at Night—Rumors Swirl That His Former Love Has Returned.” The next second, I dialed my father’s number. “I’m accepting the arranged marriage.” Scarlett’s POV I was known as the most stunning, wild IT-girl in New York’s high society. Tristan Sterling, on the other hand, was the youngest billionaire kingpin in the city. Cold, ruthless, and absolutely lethal. Nobody knew that we, two people who seemingly had nothing to do with each other, would kiss passionately in the dark of night. Nobody knew we made love by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse. Or that he would grip my waist in the back of his black Maybach until my legs went completely numb. Tristan leaned down, his breath hot against my ear, whispering with a dark chuckle. “The partition is up. The driver can’t hear a thing. What are you so shy about?” “Scarlett, relax. Say my name.” “Tristan…” I called his name, my voice thick with embarrassment. The usually cold, untouchable man smiled with dark satisfaction. His movements grew wilder, and I wrapped my arms around him, my eyes filled with hopeless love. Just as we finished, a sharp notification chimed on his phone. Tristan pulled out his screen. I caught a glimpse of the contact name: “Chloe.” Tristan, I have a fever. I feel so sick… The moment he read that message, the passion in Tristan’s eyes vanished. Instantly. He ordered the driver to pull over, pushed the door open, and practically threw me out before I could even fix my clothes. “An emergency came up at the office. I have to go. Take a cab home.” I knew exactly who Chloe was. She was the woman he actually loved. She had been recovering in a European clinic for years and had just returned. As he went to shut the door, I suddenly grabbed his hand. My eyes, normally so bright, pleaded with him. “Can’t you stay? Just this once?” His eyes darkened. “Scarlett, be good. Don’t throw a tantrum.” He brushed my hand off and slammed the door. The black Maybach sped away into the night. I was left standing on the curb, my clothes disheveled, my pale skin covered in fresh red marks. Several passing men stared at me, their eyes filthy. “Isn’t that Scarlett Vance?” “Wow, the Vance heiress is really wild. Dumped on the side of the road looking like that!” “I wonder how much she charges for a night. With a body like that, it must be insane…” Their sleazy whispers felt like invisible hands, stripping away the last of my dignity. I bit my lip, quickly adjusted my coat, and immediately hailed a cab to follow Tristan. I wanted to see what this Chloe looked like. I wanted to see the woman who could pull him away with a single text right after we made love, leaving me to be laughed at by the whole city. Half an hour later, my cab stopped outside a luxury hotel. Through the window, I watched Chloe run out of the lobby wearing nothing but a thin silk slip. Tristan rushed forward. He took off his heavy wool coat, wrapped her in it, and swept her up into his arms. Sitting in the back of the cab, watching him carry Chloe into the hotel, my mind drifted back to how we first met. It was right after I returned from studying abroad. I had crashed my car, a limited-edition Pagani, directly into Tristan’s. My father was so furious he dragged me to Tristan’s office to beg for forgiveness. Behind his wire-rimmed glasses, Tristan’s eyes were ice-cold. He said, “Paying for the damages is pointless. Neither of our families lacks money. But if you truly want to apologize, Mr. Vance, let Scarlett work as my personal assistant. It’s time she learned some work ethic.” Tristan was famous for being a tyrant. Everyone knew that anyone who survived his training came out disciplined and submissive. My father, desperate to tame my wild streak, agreed instantly. Just like that, he threw me to the wolf. Of course, I didn’t go quietly. I tried every trick in the book to annoy him. On my first day, I spilled hot espresso all over his bespoke Savile Row suit. Tristan barely blinked. “Bespoke Swiss tailoring. Put it on the Vance family tab.” On the second day, I ran his most important merger contract through the paper shredder. With a straight face, Tristan simply drafted a new one right in front of me. The new terms were even harsher than the original. On the third day, I spiked his coffee. I wanted to record him losing control so I could blackmail him into letting me go. I didn’t expect that I would end up being his only cure. I wanted to kill him afterward, but Tristan just pinned me against the glass window of his office, making love to me until I couldn’t breathe. “Scarlett,” he whispered, kissing my earlobe, his voice dark and gravelly. “Stop fighting me. Be a good girl.” That single “Scarlett” made my heart skip a beat. It sent a delicious shiver down my spine. Except for my mother, who had died years ago, no one had spoken to me with such exasperated, protective tenderness in a very long time. After that night, everything changed. Every time I caused trouble, Tristan would carry me into his private lounge. Outside, his staff thought I was getting a lecture. In reality, he locked the door and made love to me until I begged for mercy. Slowly, I realized I was getting addicted. Was it because he was too good in bed? Or was I just desperate for someone to care about me? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I was done for. I had fallen for him. Hard. We kept up this toxic, beautiful arrangement for eight months. I actually thought he liked me. So, three days ago, I decided to take a leap. I wanted to ask him to be my actual boyfriend. I spent the whole day decorating my penthouse. Roses, candles, even a pair of custom-designed rings. But I waited all night. I watched the candles burn down to nothing. He never showed up. At 2:00 AM, my phone buzzed with a breaking news alert on Instagram. Billionaire Tristan Sterling Spotted Welcoming Mystery Woman at JFK Airport Late at Night. In the photo, Tristan was carefully shielding a girl in a white dress, his eyes softer than I had ever seen them. The comments section was blowing up. “Is that Tristan and Chloe? The golden couple from Princeton!” “I went to college with them! Tristan was cold to everyone except Chloe. If she hadn’t gone abroad for medical treatment, they’d probably be married by now!” “Exactly! Chloe is his one true love. He hasn’t touched another woman since she left.”

Scarlett’s POV Reading those comments felt like falling into an arctic lake. If Tristan had always had someone else in his heart, what was I? A convenient warm body? A high-end toy? I didn’t want to believe it. I told myself there had to be an explanation. But now, seeing Tristan carry Chloe into that hotel with my own eyes, I couldn’t play pretend anymore. My eyes stung, and a sharp, physical pain bloomed in my chest. But I didn’t jump out of the cab. I didn’t scream, and I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I pulled out my phone and called my father. “You wanted me to marry that crippled billionaire in San Francisco, right? Fine. I’ll do it.” “Are you serious, Scarlett?” My father’s voice practically squealed with excitement. I felt a wave of disgust. “I have one condition.” “Anything! Just name it!” “I’ll tell you when I get home.” I hung up and took one last look at the hotel entrance. My pride wouldn’t let me crawl to Tristan and beg for answers. I wouldn’t ask him why he slept with me for eight months while loving someone else. Men like him were just like my father. Unfaithful, garbage human beings. I would just treat this past year like a bad fever dream. I gave the driver my father’s address. The moment I walked into the Vance estate, my father rushed over. “You’re really agreeing to the San Francisco marriage? What is your condition? Tell me.” My stepmother, Winona, stood beside him, her eyes gleaming with greed. “My condition is simple,” I said, my voice steady. “I want to legally cut ties with you. I want a total severance of our relationship.” The air in the room froze. My father’s face turned purple. “Are you insane?! Do you hear what you’re saying?” “Perfectly,” I cold-smiled. “You cheated on my mother. You brought this cheap woman into our house and drove my mother to jump off a building. The day she died, I stopped recognizing you as my father anyway.” I stared at his flushed face. “Now, the Sinclair family in San Francisco is offering a ten-billion-dollar merger deal for a bride. You don’t care that the guy is in a wheelchair. You don’t care about my happiness. You’ve been trying to force me into this for two months.” “If I didn’t agree today, you would have drugged me and shipped me there yourself, wouldn’t you?” “You’re a selfish monster. You killed your wife, and now you’re selling your daughter to a disabled man. Why should I keep your last name?” I sneered. “Besides, once I’m gone, you can finally bring your mistress’s daughter into this house. You three can play happy family.” My father trembled with rage. “Fine. We will cut ties. But you are getting on that plane to San Francisco in two weeks. They are coming to collect you.” He paused, then spat, “And as for Winona’s daughter, Chloe, she is already back. I only kept her away to spare your dramatic feelings. Since you are being so cooperative, she is moving in tonight.” I laughed out loud. “Raising another man’s kid while selling your own biological daughter. You really are a special kind of trash.” “Because Chloe is nothing like you! She is sweet, polite, and respectful! All you do is scream and ruin my reputation!” My chest throbbed with pain, but I forced my chin up. “Great! Since she’s so perfect, go ahead and adopt her. From today on, we are strangers.” I turned to walk upstairs. Winona stepped in front of me, pretending to be the victim. “Scarlett, how can you talk to your father like that? The Vance Group is struggling. He’s only doing this marriage alliance to save us. Can’t you show some gratitude?” I stopped. I looked at her, the hatred I had suppressed for years boiling over. “What? Now that I’m leaving, you think you can play the lady of the house and lecture me?” I took a step closer, crowding her. “Listen to me, Winona. Even if my mother and I are gone, it doesn’t change the fact that you are a cheap home-wrecker. Your daughter can inherit this whole house, but she will always be the offspring of a mistress.” Winona’s face went pale. She couldn’t find a single word to say. My father lost his mind. He rushed over and slapped me across the face. The loud slap echoed in the foyer. I had insulted him, and he was just angry. But the moment I insulted Winona, he resorted to violence. This was my father. He would hit his own flesh and blood to protect his mistress. I held my burning left cheek, my eyes dry. I didn’t even feel disappointment anymore. Just absolute, dead silence. I didn’t say another word. I turned and walked up to my room. Once the door was shut, my knees buckled, and I slid down to the floor, burying my face in my knees. I let myself cry. I let all the hurt and betrayal wash over me. When I was done, I wiped my tears, got up, and dragged out my suitcase. I packed only the things that truly belonged to me. Tristan was gone. This house was gone. I was leaving it all behind. As I dragged my suitcase downstairs, I saw maids carrying pink luggage into the house. “Whose stuff is this?” I asked the butler. The butler whispered nervously, “Miss Vance, it’s… Chloe’s…” Before he could finish, a familiar figure appeared at the door. Chloe, wearing her innocent white dress, stood there looking fragile.

Scarlett’s POV My mind went blank. My blood turned to ice. I never expected that Winona’s daughter, the one recovering in Europe all these years, was Chloe. Tristan’s Chloe. The next second, Chloe smiled sweetly and walked toward me, trying to hug me. “Scarlett. I’m Chloe. We’re going to be sisters now.” Before she could touch me, I shoved her away. “Get away from me! We are not family.” Chloe stumbled back, looking deeply hurt. “Scarlett… do you really hate me that much?” “Scarlett! Where are your manners?!” my father bellowed, rushing over. “Chloe was just trying to be nice! Why did you push her?” “I’ve never had manners. You knew that.” “You!” My father shook with rage but couldn’t do anything. He looked at my suitcase. “So, you’re moving out?” “You brought your mistress and her bastard daughter into my mother’s house. Of course I’m leaving. The air in here is making me sick.” My father sneered. “Fine! Chloe actually loves your bedroom anyway. Since you’re leaving, your room belongs to her now.” I didn’t waste another breath. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out the door. Behind me, my father yelled, “Go! But don’t you dare forget what you promised! You are marrying Sinclair in two weeks!” “Don’t worry. I keep my word.” I didn’t look back. I went straight to the penthouse suite of the most expensive hotel in Manhattan and checked in. Over the next few days, I went on a reckless shopping spree. Bespoke diamond necklaces, limited-edition designer bags, luxury cars. I bought everything without looking at the price. I didn’t know if I was venting my pain or trying to drain my father’s bank account. My phone vibrated constantly in my bag. I ignored every call. But when I returned to the hotel lobby carrying a dozen luxury shopping bags, I found my suitcases piled up near the front desk. “What is the meaning of this?” I demanded. The receptionist looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Miss Vance. Your black card was declined. According to hotel policy, we had to check you out.” My phone buzzed. A text from my father popped up: Since you want to cut ties, don’t use my money. I’ve frozen all your accounts. I’m also sending people to confiscate everything you just bought today! I stared at the screen until my eyes burned. I texted back: Go ahead. Freeze my accounts? Take my things? Fine. I would just make sure that when Damian Sinclair’s people came to pick me up, the ten-billion-dollar dowry went directly into my personal account, not the Vance Group’s. My father’s company was drowning. Without that money, he would go bankrupt. I couldn’t wait to see if Winona and Chloe would stay with an old, bankrupt man. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was Tristan. Why aren’t you at the office today? I ignored it, tucking the phone away, and dragged my suitcase down the street. The Sinclair family wasn’t picking me up for another ten days. Where was I supposed to live? How was I supposed to eat? I had zero cash. Eventually, my legs gave out. I dragged myself under a bridge near Central Park, planning to just huddle there for the night. But the moment I sat down, a sketchy-looking man crept closer. “Hey, pretty girl. All alone?” “Get lost!” “Don’t be like that. Let’s have some fun.” His filthy hand reached for my shoulder. I raised my hand to slap him. “Ahhh!” A sickening crack echoed. I didn’t even see him arrive. Tristan was suddenly there, twisting the man’s wrist until the bone snapped. Before I could react, Tristan grabbed my arm and threw me and my suitcase into the back of his Maybach. “Let me go!” “Are you fighting with your father again?” Tristan gripped my wrists, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re homeless, and you didn’t think to call me?” His words made my throat tighten. In the past, whenever I fought with my dad, Tristan would search the whole city, find me, and carry me back to his place. “Did he hurt you?” he would always ask. “Why didn’t you come to me?” Back then, I actually believed he cared. But now… He had a whole woman in his heart, yet he kept me in his bed. He was just as disgusting as my father. And out of all the women in the world, why did it have to be Chloe? Why her? “Let me go!” I screamed, biting his hand hard. He flinched but didn’t let go. He stepped on the gas and drove off.

Scarlett’s POV The black Maybach pulled into Tristan’s private estate. He grabbed my suitcase and opened the front door, his voice calm as if nothing had happened. “Just like before. Stay here until you cool off.” I stood at the threshold, my hands clenched into fists. “I’m only staying for ten days. After that, I’m leaving New York, and I will never bother you again.” Tristan froze. “Never bother me again?” He turned around, his eyes dark and unreadable behind his glasses. “Are you sure you can actually do that?” His words felt like a physical blow to my chest. He knew. He had watched me change from a rebellious girl who hated him to a woman who was helplessly in love with him. He knew how much I loved him. Yet, knowing that, he kept his “one true love” in his heart while watching me drown in his bed. My nails dug into my palms. I looked up, staring straight into his cold eyes. “Did you know Chloe is my stepmother’s daughter?” Tristan slowly loosened his tie. “I found out recently.” I was silent for a long time. The silence was suffocating, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking: “What is she to you?” Tristan took off his tie, his movements relaxed. “She was my classmate. Years ago, she saved my life in a car accident. Her health has been fragile ever since, which is why she was recovering abroad.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly in a quiet warning. “I know you hate your stepmother. But Chloe has nothing to do with that. Don’t take it out on her.” Chloe. How tenderly he said her name. A dull ache spread through my chest. I didn’t say another word. I turned, went upstairs, and locked myself in the guest room. That night, Tristan didn’t push my door open. He didn’t pin me to the mattress. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with a bitter smile. His true love was back. Of course he had no use for me now. Which was perfect. I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with a man who was thinking of another woman anyway. It made me want to throw up. For the next five days, I actively avoided him. I only went downstairs after he left for work, and I went to bed before he came home. We lived under the same roof, but we were like ghosts passing in the dark. But I was never the type to sit quietly. After five days of isolation, I was going stir-crazy. On the sixth afternoon, an acquaintance from our social circle called me. “Scarlett! Where have you been? We’re having a party at the club tonight. You coming?” I was bored out of my mind. “Sure. I’ll be there.” At 8:00 PM, I arrived at the club. I walked down the dimly lit VIP hallway and pushed open the door to the private suite. I froze. My friends weren’t there. Tristan was sitting on the leather sofa, holding a glass of red wine. Beside him sat Chloe. Chloe was leaning in close, whispering something to him with a bright, beautiful smile. Several of Tristan’s wealthy friends were lounging around them. The moment I opened the door, everyone looked at me. One of the guys smirked. “Well, look who it is. The wild Miss Vance.” “Sorry. Wrong room,” I said, turning to leave. “Scarlett!” Chloe called out, rushing over to grab my arm. “Where have you been? Your father is worried sick!” I looked at Tristan. His face was a mask of cold indifference. He hadn’t told Chloe that I was staying at his villa. Of course he hadn’t. If Chloe found out, it would ruin his clean image. He didn’t want his precious angel to know how he had been ravishing me in his bed for the past eight months.

Scarlett’s POV As I stood there lost in my thoughts, Chloe squeezed my hand tightly, acting like a loving sister. “Scarlett, stop fighting with your dad. He hasn’t eaten since you ran away. He’s lost so much weight.” Chloe looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Even if you’re angry, you shouldn’t sleep around or stay at cheap motels. Come home with me, apologize to him, okay?” Looking at her face, which resembled Winona’s, my stomach turned. I shoved her hand off me. “You’re a nobody who has zero Vance blood. My fights with my father are none of your business. Why are you acting like you own me?” Chloe gasped, her eyes immediately welling up with tears. She looked at Tristan as if she had been physically assaulted. Tristan frowned, set his wine glass down, and walked over. “Chloe is only trying to mend your relationship with your father,” he said, his voice deep and stern. “Even if you don’t appreciate it, you don’t need to attack her.” He paused, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Apologize to Chloe.” He wanted me to apologize to her? My heart twisted. I looked up at him, letting out a mocking laugh. “Who do you think you are, Tristan? Just because you tell me to do something, you think I’m going to obey like a dog?” Tristan’s frown deepened. The annoyance in his eyes was clear. Ever since he took me in to “teach me rules,” I had never dared to openly defy him like this. Chloe quickly grabbed Tristan’s arm, playing the martyr. “It’s fine, Tristan. Scarlett hates me and my mom. It’s natural she’d say mean things. I shouldn’t have interfered. I really have no right.” I sneered. “At least you know your place.” I turned on my heel and walked out. I found the other suite where my actual acquaintances were drinking. “Hey! Scarlett’s here!” someone yelled. “We thought you went off the grid!” I grabbed a shot of tequila and slammed it down, staying silent. But within ten minutes, the heavy oak door was kicked open. Tristan stood at the entrance, radiating pure, suffocating anger. He swept his cold eyes over the room. “Get the hell out. Now.” Seeing his face, my friends didn’t even dare to grab their coats. They scrambled out of the room like rats. The door slammed shut. Tristan loosened his tie as he walked toward me. Sensing danger, I shrank back into the sofa. “What do you think you’re doing?” “Making love to you,” he said flatly. I froze. I couldn’t believe this sophisticated, refined man had just said something so crude. Before I could recover, Tristan was towering over me. I tried to slide away, but he pinned me down into the leather cushions. Using his silk tie, he bound my wrists together in a tight knot and pinned them above my head. “Let me go!” I thrashed wildly. “Tristan, you’re a bastard!” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Have I spoiled you too much lately? Is that why you think you can disrespect my words?” I knew he was talking about Chloe. “Chloe’s mother is a disgusting whore, and so is she! Why should I apologize to a parasite?” I spat. Tristan’s face turned lethal. “It seems I haven’t disciplined you enough. You still don’t know your place.” He slid his hand up my thigh, lifting my dress. “Let me remind you tonight.” I stared at him in horror. “Stop! Don’t touch me!” Tristan let out a dark chuckle. “It’s not like this is our first time, Scarlett. Why are you playing the virgin?” He leaned down, his warm breath sending chills down my neck. “Have you forgotten how loud you scream my name under me?” My face went completely white. The humiliation was overwhelming. Before, when we made love, I thought he cared about me, so I gave him everything. But now, he was using those intimate moments to degrade me. I glared at him with pure hatred. “Chloe is right next door. If you touch me here, aren’t you afraid she’ll walk in and see?” Tristan’s eyes were pitch-black. “That is none of your concern.” With that, he took me brutally. A tear slipped down my cheek as a sob tore from my throat. “You’re a monster, Tristan! You’re a disgusting piece of trash!” I fought against the restraints, kicking and screaming. “Get off me! Don’t touch me!” But the more I fought, the more ruthless his movements became.

Scarlett’s POV My throat was hoarse from screaming. My face was stained with tears, and my wrists were bruised from the silk tie. Tristan calmly buttoned his shirt and adjusted his cuffs, immediately reverting back to the cold, sophisticated billionaire. It was as if the beast from a minute ago had never existed. Meanwhile, I lay there with my dress torn and my hair wild, looking utterly broken. Tristan looked down at me, his eyes dark. “I prefer you like this, helpless. Not loud and arrogant.” A wave of intense humiliation washed over me. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing. Seeing me like this, his expression softened slightly. “Scarlett, be good.” He leaned down, untying my wrists and kissing the tears from my eyes. “If you just listen to me, I won’t have to be so rough.” I jerked my head away from his lips, letting out a cold laugh. “In your dreams.” I used to listen to him because I thought he cared. I thought we had something real. Now I knew I was just a physical outlet. “Tristan, you are a hypocrite and a coward,” I whispered, my voice cracked. “You love Chloe, yet you keep me in your bed. You’re disgusting. I hate you.” Tristan stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Disgusting?” Before he could say more, his phone rang. He frowned and answered it. A panicked voice came through the speaker. “Tristan! Where are you? Some drunk guys are harassing Chloe in the VIP lounge! Get over here now!” Tristan’s face fell. He hung up and looked at me. “I’ll finish disciplining you at home.” With that, he turned and ran out, leaving me shivering and ruined on the sofa. Watching him run to her, my heart finally shattered into dust. It was always the same. The second Chloe needed him, I was garbage to be thrown away. I bit my lip, forcing myself to stop crying. Men like him didn’t deserve my tears. I spent a long time cleaning myself up, fixing my dress and hair until I looked presentable before walking out of the suite. At the end of the hallway, a loud commotion was happening. I saw Tristan shielding Chloe behind him. Two drunk men were lying on the floor, groaning in pain. He was beating them mercilessly, his face contorted with a primal rage I had never seen before. Chloe, sensing my presence, turned her head. Our eyes met. A slow, victorious smirk spread across her lips. I ignored her, walking right past them with a blank face. I walked out of the club and stood on the curb, waiting for a cab. The cold night wind blew, chilling me to the bone. I wrapped my arms around myself. “Scarlett.” A soft, weak voice called out behind me. I turned. It was Chloe. She walked over, looking concerned. “Scarlett, you don’t have a car? Let me drive you home.” I looked at the keys in her hand. A brand-new Porsche. My father was indeed generous to his stepdaughter. “No thanks,” I said coldly. “Riding in a mistress’s daughter’s car makes me feel dirty.” Chloe’s sweet facade dropped instantly. “Who are you calling a mistress? Scarlett, say that again!” “Your mother is a home-wrecking whore. If you like hearing it, I can repeat it all night.” As we argued, a pair of blinding headlights suddenly rounded the corner. An out-of-control SUV was speeding directly toward us. In that split second, Tristan rushed out of the club. Without a single hesitation, he threw his arms around Chloe and pulled her out of the way. And I… Crash. The impact threw me onto the hard asphalt. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my vision fading. I could hear distant screams and running footsteps, but I couldn’t tell who they belonged to. As darkness took over, my mind flashed back to last winter. After a massive fight with my father, I had run to my mother’s grave. I sat there in the snow, crying until I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was wrapped in a warm wool coat. Tristan had found me. He held me tightly against his chest, shielding me from the freezing wind. He had looked down at me and said, “Whenever you’re hurt, come to me. Don’t carry it alone.” Those were the sweetest words I had ever heard. I had cried into his chest like a child, believing that after my mother’s death, I finally had someone who loved me. But now… The man who promised to protect me had chosen to save another woman, leaving me to die on the street.

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On the day the family successor was chosen, I stood there with absolute confidence, holding my straight-A academic transcripts and business certificates. Instead, Grandma Margaret announced that the successor of the Shea Group would be my older sister, Chloe—who knew nothing about business and only knew how to cook. I froze. For seventeen years, I had spent every single day preparing to take over the family legacy. My parents had been brutally strict with me, constantly reminding me that “the heir must learn to carry the weight of the world.” Yet, they were always incredibly gentle with Chloe. Chloe was allowed to go on road trips with her friends, while I had to wake up at 5:00 AM for deportment and etiquette classes. Chloe could eat whatever snacks she wanted, while I was forced on a strict, bland diet to maintain a perfect, camera-ready figure. Chloe was allowed to date, but I wasn’t even allowed to pick up a phone call from a boy. I thought it was all a test. A necessary trial to become the CEO. I believed the throne was mine. I had even comforted Chloe, telling her that I would always take care of her once I ran the company. But then, Grandma Margaret tasted the dish Chloe made, and declared her the sole heir on the spot. Only then did I realize the final test was never about business—it was about cooking a recipe from Grandma’s legendary artisanal book. I didn’t even know the difference between basic spices. My only remaining value to this family was to be married off. I turned to my parents for help. My father merely said that the Vance family’s heir would bring me “happiness.” My mother added that I was “born for high society anyway.” I finally got it. Grandma’s recipe book had been given to Chloe years ago. The torture I endured all these years wasn’t training for leadership. It was preparation to make me the perfect trophy wife. I ripped off the diamond engagement ring and threw it. I’m not accepting this marriage. And I’m never coming back to this house.

“Maya, pick up the ring.” Eleanor’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a suffocating weight. She bent down, picked up the diamond ring sent by the Vance family, and turned it under the light, as if checking a piece of merchandise for scratches. I didn’t move. She sighed, walked over, and forced the ring back into my palm. Her manicured nails dug into my wrist, just hard enough to hurt. “I know you feel hurt.” “But this marriage is something the whole family has carefully planned. The Vance family’s distribution channels complement our supply chain perfectly.” “You marrying him isn’t a sacrifice. It’s a win-win.” When she said “win-win,” her tone was exactly like a CEO signing a contract. I placed the ring back on the coffee table and pushed it away. “I won’t marry him.” Eleanor’s fake smile vanished in less than two seconds. “Do you honestly think you have a choice?” She unzipped her designer handbag and tossed a document in front of me. It was the Shea Group’s new equity structure. Chloe’s name was highlighted under the successor column. My name was at the very bottom, in the appendix under “Strategic Merger Alliance.” “Look closely. Your role in this family has always been decided.” Her voice was patronizingly sweet, like she was talking to a child, as her fingers flipped the pages for me. “Chloe runs the company, you marry into the Vance family. This two-way strategy is the only way the Shea family stays on top.” “If you refuse, your grandma, your father… everyone will be disappointed in you.” Disappointed. That word, coming from her mouth, was more violent than any threat. I started etiquette lessons at five. I learned financial statements at seven. I was shipped off to a strict boarding school at twelve, and by fifteen, I had three business certifications. Every time I was so exhausted that I cried at my desk, Eleanor would only say through the closed door: “The heir of this family cannot disappoint us.” So, I practically killed myself trying to make them proud. “Mom, I’ve been taking exams for seventeen years, and now you’re telling me the test was about cooking?” “How is that fair?” There was not a single shred of guilt on Eleanor’s face. “Who says it’s not fair? Chloe worked hard too. She spent five years studying Grandma’s recipes. That’s a skill.” “Your skills are just different. Socializing, negotiating, networking… those are a hundred times more useful in high society than cooking.” “I’m praising you, Maya. Don’t you see that?” The door pushed open, and Chloe walked in carrying a bowl of creamy mushroom soup. She wore a cozy cream-colored knit dress, her hair casually tied back, looking like she had just stepped out of a high-end cooking show. “Maya, please don’t fight with Mom.” She placed the bowl in front of me, carefully angling the spoon toward my hand. “I didn’t expect Grandma’s decision either. To be honest, I don’t even care about being the CEO.” “If you really hate the marriage that much, I can talk to Grandma. I’ll ask her to reconsider.” Her words were flawless. Beautifully packaged. But on her wrist was Grandma Margaret’s signature emerald bracelet. Grandma had always said that bracelet was reserved for the matriarch of the Shea family. She wasn’t wearing it three days ago. “Chloe, when did you get that bracelet?” Chloe looked down at her wrist, smiling with mock shyness. “Grandma gave it to me this afternoon. She said I should get used to wearing it.” Get used to it. Meaning, while I still believed I was running for the successor spot, she had already begun the transition. Seeing me stare at the bracelet, Eleanor quickly intervened. “Chloe, go back to the kitchen and watch the stove. I need a private word with Maya.” Chloe nodded. Before she left, she gave me a look. It was so gentle that, for a split second, I almost believed she cared about me. But then she said: “Maya, if you ever get bullied after the wedding, just come home. I’ll make sure they treat you right.” It was the ultimate pity of a winner. The moment the door clicked shut, Eleanor’s face darkened completely. “Look at Chloe, she is so mature. And look at you, throwing a tantrum.” “Other girls would kill for this marriage proposal, and you just throw the ring away.” “Maya, you need to think carefully about whether you still want a place in this family.” My fingers gripped the equity document until my knuckles turned white. Seventeen years. I thought they were shaping me to be a leader. Turns out, I was just a highly-polished commodity waiting for the highest bidder. The mushroom soup was still steaming. I took a sip. It was rich, completely masking the earthy taste of the mushrooms. Just like the warmth of this family—it looked cozy on the surface, but it was only there to cover up their real, ugly intentions. “I’ll think about it,” I said quietly. Eleanor’s tense shoulders finally relaxed. “That’s my girl.” She patted my shoulder, like she was putting a decorative vase back into its proper place.

The next morning, Arthur sat at the head of the dining table, his Wall Street Journal spread out in front of him. His coffee was cold, untouched. I sat down in my usual spot. Four chairs. Three people were already eating. My plate was empty. “Dad, I don’t have silverware.” Arthur didn’t even look up. He just flipped the page. “Get her a plate.” Eleanor took a bite of the pan-seared salmon Chloe had made. “Chloe, your cooking is incredible. This tastes exactly like Grandma’s signature recipe.” Chloe smiled, serving her another bowl of vegetable soup. “Eat up, Mom. I’m testing Grandma’s thirty-seventh recipe today, the Apple Tart. I’ll make it for dinner.” The maid finally brought my plate. In front of me was a bowl of plain oatmeal and a single slice of whole-wheat toast. Across from me, they had eggs, bacon, sausage, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Noticing my gaze, Eleanor offered a lazy explanation. “You’re meeting the Vance family next month. You can’t afford to gain weight. Self-control is everything.” I looked at the dry bread and took a bite. It tasted like cardboard. Arthur suddenly folded his newspaper. He adjusted his posture, looking at me with his signature corporate negotiation face. “Maya, your mother told me about your little reaction last night.” “I get that you’re emotional right now, but let me show you some numbers. You’ll understand.” He slid his phone across the table, showing a graph. “The Vance Group’s revenue is three times ours this year. Their cold-chain logistics cover the entire East Coast—which is exactly where Shea Group has a blind spot.” “If you marry Ethan Vance, their distribution channels become ours. You’d basically be unlocking a massive new market for Chloe to run.” “Maya, I would never hurt you. I’ve met Ethan. He’s handsome, well-educated, and frankly, he’s more than you could ask for.” More than I could ask for. As if I were a discounted item, and Ethan Vance was paying a generous price. “Dad, how many times have you actually met Ethan?” Arthur paused, thinking. “Twice. Once at a charity gala, once at a golf club.” “And twice was enough for you to sell your daughter to him?” The air in the room instantly froze. Eleanor slammed her fork down, glaring at me. “Watch your tone with your father!” Arthur didn’t get angry. Instead, he put on a deeply patient face, like a CEO explaining strategy to a clueless intern. “Maya, marriage isn’t a game. It’s about mergers, acquisitions, and resource matching. Why do you think your mother married me?” He smiled at Eleanor. They exchanged a knowing, calculated look. There was affection in that look, sure, but it was mostly the trust of two business partners. And I was their next transaction. Chloe walked out of the kitchen with the last dish, catching the end of the conversation. “Maya, don’t stress too much,” she said, sitting across from me. Her voice was like sugar. “Dad and Mom are actually doing you a favor. Think about it. Everything you’ve learned since you were a kid—golf, horseback riding, social etiquette—isn’t that the perfect starter pack for a billionaire’s wife?” “You’ll thrive in the Vance family.” “But if you stay at Shea Group… you haven’t even touched Grandma’s recipes. How would you even gain the board’s respect?” Every single word was a reminder: You can’t cook, so you don’t deserve the crown. But nobody ever asked me why I couldn’t cook. From the moment I could remember, Eleanor banned me from the kitchen. The oil ruins your skin. The heat is hard to control. If you get a scar, you’ll lose points in your etiquette presentation. Meanwhile, Chloe was allowed in the kitchen with Grandma since she was five, learning ingredients, sauces, and cooking techniques. I had never even seen the cover of that legendary recipe book. It wasn’t that I refused to learn. They just never let me. “Chloe, can I see that recipe book?” Chloe’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. “The book is with Grandma. I only get to read it when she’s teaching me.” Eleanor quickly cut in. “Alright, let’s not talk about work at the table. Maya, go get your hair done this afternoon. The Vances are coming next week, and you need to look flawless.” I looked down at my oatmeal. It was tasteless. But I forced myself to swallow it, bite by bite. Not because I was being obedient. But because I suddenly realized that at this table, I had zero cards left to play. I had to eat what they fed me. I had to marry who they chose. Unless… I flipped the entire board. At 2:00 PM, Eleanor told me to go to the salon. I said okay. But the moment I walked out of the estate, I didn’t go to the salon. I went to the bank. Seventeen years of allowance, academic cash prizes, and competition awards were all stashed in a private account Eleanor knew nothing about. Balance: $83,400. Not a fortune, but enough to get me started. I stood at the ATM, changed my PIN, and then walked into a phone store to buy a burner SIM card. When I got home, Eleanor asked why my hair looked the same. “The salon was overbooked. I rescheduled for tomorrow.” She just hummed and didn’t ask further. At dinner, Chloe served her Apple Tart. Grandma Margaret showered her with praise via FaceTime. Everyone was laughing. No one noticed that throughout the entire dinner, I was counting the things in this house that actually belonged to me. A bowl of oatmeal, some dry toast. That was it.

The Vance family arrived earlier than expected. Eleanor spent three days preping me—fittings, posture checks, and memorizing the Vance family’s profile. Ethan’s father loved rare Earl Grey tea. His mother was severely allergic to shellfish. Ethan himself was an LSE graduate who hated when people brought up his academic pedigree. I memorized every detail like I was preparing for a corporate interview. During my final fitting, Eleanor took me to the most expensive boutique in Manhattan. While the tailor adjusted my dress, Eleanor stood by the mirror, giving orders. “Take the waist in another half-inch. She’s lost weight.” “Keep the neckline conservative. Ethan’s grandmother is old school.” “Use the champagne-gold silk. It looks expensive, but it won’t upstage the bride—even though she’s not the bride yet.” The designer nodded, smiling. I stood in the center of the triple-angle mirror, looking at myself. For seventeen years, they had sculpted me into a perfect outline. Flawless posture, pristine skin, measured steps, and a smile that never showed more than four teeth. Turns out, none of this was for the CEO seat. It was just to make sure I fetched a high price on the marriage market. “Mom, I don’t like this color.” Eleanor didn’t even look back. “Your preferences don’t matter, Maya. What the Vances like matters.” As we left the boutique, my phone buzzed. It was Chloe. “Maya, come home for dinner tonight. I made that black truffle and prosciutto flatbread you loved when we were kids.” “Since when did I like black truffle and prosciutto flatbread?” There was a second of awkward silence on the line. “Oh? Was that not you? I must have mixed you up with someone else.” She didn’t even know what I liked to eat, yet she used this overly sweet tone to pretend she did. I loved spicy food. And my entire life, not a single person in this family remembered. When we got home, the flatbread was indeed on the table. Eleanor pointed at it, looking proud. “Chloe made this specifically for you. Taste it.” I took a bite. It was sweet. I put it down. “I want something spicy.” The entire table went dead silent. Arthur frowned. “Chloe made this out of the goodness of her heart. Why are you being so difficult?” Eleanor sighed. “Maya, can you please just give us one day of peace?” Chloe bit her lower lip, looking incredibly hurt. “Maya, I’m so sorry… I got it wrong again. If you don’t like it, I can make you something else?” When she said that, Arthur and Eleanor immediately looked at her with pure sympathy. As if she was the victim, not me. “No need.” I finished my oatmeal, stood up, and went to my room. Behind me, I could hear Eleanor comforting Chloe. “Don’t worry about her. Just a childish tantrum. She’ll get over it.” “Even Grandma praised your cooking. Don’t let her ruin the mood.” I walked into my room and didn’t bother locking the door. I couldn’t. Eleanor had ordered the lock removed from my door last month, claiming “family members don’t need secrets.” Yet, Chloe’s room had a fingerprint lock. I sat on my bed, put the burner SIM card into an old phone, and texted my uncle, Julian, who lived in France. Julian was Eleanor’s younger brother. He ran a wine export business in Lyon and kept his distance from the family. When he visited us for Christmas years ago, he was the only one who secretly took me out for spicy street food. Eleanor called him “unstable” and told me to stay away from him. But he was my only lifeline left. “Uncle Julian, it’s Maya. If I wanted to leave the country, could you help me?” The message sent. Silence. I didn’t expect much. I turned off the burner phone, took out my main phone, and politely replied to Eleanor’s schedule for tomorrow. “Got it. I’ll be ready by 9:00 AM.” She replied instantly with a heart emoji. On the day of the family meeting, I wore the champagne-gold dress. Standing in the living room, I felt like a freshly painted porcelain doll. Ethan Vance didn’t show up. His father laughed it off, saying he was held up with some urgent business. His mother, however, inspected me thoroughly. She took my hand and smiled. “Beautiful, elegant. You can tell she was raised right.” Eleanor beamed with pride. “Our Maya has been trained since she was a child. Arts, business, etiquette—she is flawless.” Chloe came out of the kitchen carrying a tray of rosewater pannacotta with edible gold foil, serving Mrs. Vance with a sweet smile. “Please try this, Mrs. Vance. I made it myself.” Mrs. Vance took a bite and praised her endlessly. Chloe seized the moment and giggled. “Once Maya marries into your family, I’ll make sure to send some over to you every week.” She positioned herself as the generous benefactor. As if my marriage was her gift to the Vances, and she was the saint who made it all happen. Before leaving, Mr. Vance shook Arthur’s hand. “The alliance is sealed. We will fully support the kids.” I stood at the door, waving them goodbye with a picture-perfect smile. Back in my room, I turned on my burner phone. Julian had replied. “Maya? Why are you suddenly texting me? What’s going on?” I stared at the screen for a long time. I typed and deleted several messages, and finally sent: “Uncle Julian, can you help me get a French student visa? I want to study abroad.” Two minutes later, Julian replied with three words: “Send your documents.” I didn’t cry. I just gripped the phone tightly, went to the bathroom to wash my face, took off the gold dress, and folded it. I hid it at the very bottom of my closet. I would never wear it again.

The visa process was way more complicated than I expected. Degree verification, language tests, financial proofs, housing sponsors—everything required time. Julian helped me go through the list over Snapchat voice calls. “Do you speak French?” “I self-studied in high school. Level B1.” “Good enough for a language prep program. I’ll sponsor your financial proof and arrange your apartment. You just handle your transcripts and degree certificates.” He paused, then asked, “Does Chloe know? Or your mom?” “No. Nobody knows.” “When do you plan to leave?” “As soon as possible.” Julian was silent for a few seconds. “Maya, studying abroad isn’t just running away. Have you thought about how you’ll survive out there?” “I’ve thought it through.” And I had. Fighting them directly was useless. I had thrown the ring, questioned the recipe book, and confronted Arthur. And every time I rebelled, they just tightened their grip. Eleanor took my lock. They cut off my credit cards. Arthur locked my passport in his study’s safe, and only he knew the combination. They used “family love” as a cage and smiles to push me toward the Vances. So, I had to stop fighting openly. I started acting. Eleanor wanted me to take flower-arranging classes? I went. Arthur wanted me to memorize the Vance family tree? I memorized it. Chloe wanted me to taste her new dishes? I smiled and said they were delicious. Every day, I played my part flawlessly, like a well-programmed machine. Only late at night, under the covers, did I open my burner phone to work on my visa. The passport was the hardest part. The safe was in Arthur’s study. It was a six-digit code. I tried his birthday and their anniversary, but neither worked. On the eleventh day, Eleanor took me to a spa. While waiting, she took a call from Arthur. “What? The safe combination? How should I know? You set it. Isn’t it Chloe’s birthday?” She didn’t even try to hide the conversation from me. In her eyes, I had completely surrendered. I was no longer a threat. Chloe’s birthday. June 8th. 0608. No, it had to be six digits. June 8th, 2003. 030608. That night, I waited until the house was dead silent. At 2:40 AM, I slipped barefoot into Arthur’s study. 0-3-0-6-0-8. The safe clicked open. My passport was at the bottom, tucked between property deeds. I pulled it out, closed the safe, and scrambled the lock. The whole thing took less than forty seconds. Back in my room, I slid the passport into the secret lining of my backpack and lay back down. My heart was hammering, but my hands were steady. Three days later, my visa was approved. Julian emailed me the digital copy with a note: I booked your flight. Direct to Lyon next Tuesday. Confirm the time. Next Tuesday. My eighteenth birthday. And the exact day Eleanor planned to host the Vance family for our official engagement party. I texted back on the burner phone: Confirmed. Then, I cleared all chat histories, turned off the phone, and hid it back in my bag. The night before my birthday, Eleanor knocked gently on my door. “Maya, tomorrow is your birthday. I ordered a cake. We’ll have a family dinner, and the Vances are sending flowers.” “Thank you, Mom,” I said with a smile. She blinked, clearly surprised by how cooperative I was. “You’ve been so mature lately. I’m really proud of you.” Proud. She was only proud when I fell in line. Birthday morning. I woke up at 5:00 AM and cleaned my room. On my desk, I left only my etiquette graduation certificate and the engagement ring I had refused to wear. I threw my backpack on, put on a pair of flat sneakers, and took one last look at this room with no lock. I closed the door. When I went downstairs, the house was empty. The cake was in the fridge, decorated with pink frosting that read: Happy 18th Birthday, Maya. I didn’t open it. The moment I stepped out of the mansion with my suitcase, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Chloe. “Happy birthday, Maya! I’m cooking a whole feast for you today, all your favorites.” She still had no idea what I actually liked. I didn’t reply. A cab was waiting at the corner. I gave the driver the airport address. At 9:20 AM, Eleanor sent a voice note. “Maya, why is your door locked? Come out and have some cake. The Vances’ flowers just arrived.” At 10:00 AM, Arthur knocked on my door. “Maya? Open up.” No answer. At 10:30 AM, Chloe came out of the kitchen, tying her apron. “Is Maya still throwing a fit? It’s fine, let’s just eat without her.” Eleanor sighed. “Fine, let her cool down. Chloe, why don’t you blow out the candles for Maya?” By the time they lit the candles, I was already on a flight to Lyon. As the city below shrank into tiny dots through the window, I took out my old SIM card, snapped it in half, and dropped it into the trash bag.

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To buy Ethan his dream VIP World Cup tickets, I worked myself to the bone, pulling endless overtime for three months straight to secure my project bonus. But when I finally grabbed those tickets and ran home to surprise him, he was standing in the living room holding a cat. “Ava, you need to pet-sit Cleo for the next few days. Chloe and I are flying out for the World Cup.” I clenched the tickets hidden in my coat pocket. My chest tightened as I stared at him. “Ethan, you already went with her to the last two World Cups. Why her again?” Ethan’s face hardened. “This is Chloe’s birthday wish this year. Come on, Ava, be reasonable. I promise I’ll take you next time.” I didn’t say another word. I turned around, tore the VIP tickets in half, and tossed them right into the trash. He had no idea. There was never going to be a next time. We were supposed to get our marriage license at City Hall right after he got back from the World Cup. But looking at him now, a breakup seemed a hell of a lot better than a future divorce. I didn’t even look up at him. My voice was ice cold. “Did you forget? My birthday wish this year was also to go to the World Cup with you.” “You’re my fiancée, Ava. I’m with you every single day. But Chloe is different—she’s going through a hard time, and I barely get to see her.” His tone grew sharper, annoyed that I was pushing back. My heart felt like a flatline. I looked him dead in the eye. “Out of the three of us, I’m always the outsider, aren’t I?” Ethan’s jaw clenched. “Are you seriously getting jealous again? Stop acting like this!” “Chloe and I grew up together. I’ve told you a thousand times, we are just friends! It’s completely platonic!” “Plus, we are literally getting married next month! Do you really not trust me at all?” “Ava, you are making me so exhausted.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Every single time we argued about Chloe, he put on this exact same “exhausted” show. I kept my face expressionless. “I’m exhausted too.” I added, “If you’re so used to having Chloe by your side, then go with her. I don’t care anymore.” Ethan froze for a second. Seeing that I wasn’t screaming or crying, he assumed I was backing down like I always did. He let out a sigh of relief. “Don’t overthink it, babe. I’ll bring you back a nice souvenir.” The cat in his arms jumped down and ran over to my suitcase. Ethan cleared his throat. “Chloe’s family is out of town, and my parents can’t stand cat hair. She couldn’t find anyone else to watch Cleo last minute. Just watch her for a bit, okay? Thanks, babe.” She gets my man, and I get her cat. Fucking hilarious. Suddenly, Ethan’s phone buzzed. I didn’t need to look to know it was Chloe. Before heading into the study to take the call, he threw a casual order over his shoulder.

“The cat’s been meowing. She’s probably hungry.” “Chloe says Cleo only eats steamed sea bass. Make sure you prep some for her.” After twelve years together, he spoke to me like I was his hired maid. Without waiting for my reply, he walked into the study and shut the door. I ignored the cat, dragged my packed suitcase to the corner, and set it down. My company had given me three days to transition my work before my transfer. In three days, I would be leaving this city. I would also be leaving Ethan, the man I had loved for twelve years. As I walked past the study, I heard Ethan on a FaceTime call with Chloe. Chloe’s high-pitched giggles leaked through the door. Ethan’s voice was filled with smug confidence: “Ava and I have been together for twelve years. She’s not going to make a scene. Just pack your bags and enjoy the game with me.” I froze in the hallway. My blood ran cold. From age eighteen to thirty, my entire youth belonged to him. I was the “perfect, understanding fiancée” his friends always praised. Even when we fought over Chloe, I never let anyone else know. I saved his pride every single time. And that pride became the exact weapon he used to step all over me. A cold smirk crept onto my face. Ethan, I am never playing by your rules again. While packing the rest of my personal things, I realized one of my lavender-infused sleep pillows was missing. I’ve always had terrible anxiety and insomnia due to work stress. My grandmother had traveled all the way to Vermont on a long Greyhound bus just to get me two custom, organic sleep pillows from an old artisan shop. On her way back, she was killed in a tragic car accident. Those pillows were the last, most precious things she ever gave me. Ethan was putting on his coat, getting ready to head out. I stopped him. “Have you seen my other sleep pillow? The lavender one from my grandmother.” Ethan thought for a second. “Check the guest room. Chloe stayed there last week. If it’s not there, it might be at her apartment.” We had lived in this apartment for seven years. At first we rented, then we bought it. I had wanted a cozy one-bedroom, but Ethan insisted on a two-bedroom, claiming “friends might need to crash.” But in seven years, he had never let a single male friend sleep over, even when they were dead drunk. He would always book them a hotel. The guest room was used exclusively by Chloe. And every single time she stayed over, she was “too drunk to drive.” I had told Ethan a million times to call her an Uber or get her a hotel. But he always said, “It’s not safe for a drunk girl to sleep alone in a hotel.” He knew it drove me crazy. He knew I hated it. Yet, he let her sleep under our roof night after night. Usually, he’d just bring her home first and tell me later. Later, because I kept fighting him on it, he even installed a security camera in the living room. His excuse? “See? The camera proves we are clean! We have nothing to hide!” Our apartment didn’t just have a dedicated bedroom for Chloe. Her personal belongings were scattered everywhere—her lipsticks on our counter, her socks in our laundry, her jewelry, and sometimes even her underwear. In the past, I would have thrown a massive fit. But today, I just calmly walked into the guest room. The pillow wasn’t there. Without saying a word, I grabbed my car keys and drove straight to Chloe’s apartment. When Chloe opened the door, she looked shocked. “Ava! What are you doing here? This is literally the first time you’ve ever visited my place!” She smiled, inviting me in. “I’m here for my sleep pillow.” Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second. She turned toward the kitchen. “Let me get you some water.” I knew she was grabbing her phone to text Ethan and play the victim. “Don’t bother. I’m leaving as soon as I get my pillow.” She walked back, rubbing her temples as if she couldn’t remember where it was.

“Why don’t you check the second bedroom on the right? Ethan slept there the other night.” My heart did a painful flip. I had no idea Ethan had been sleeping over at her place. As I walked down her hallway, I noticed her balcony. Hanging on the drying rack, right next to Chloe’s lace underwear, were Ethan’s boxer shorts. Chloe noticed my gaze. She casually shrugged. “Oh, that. Ethan got totally wasted last night. He threw up all over himself and me. I had to wash his clothes.” It sounded like an explanation, but her eyes were dripping with pure provocation. In the past, she wasn’t this obvious. She used to cry and swear that they were “just like siblings.” But lately, she had dropped the act. Now, she was looking at me with a smirk that said, What are you gonna do about it? She was waiting for me to lose my mind, to scream at her, to make a scene so Ethan could come rescue his “sweet, innocent” best friend. But I just nodded calmly. “I see.” I looked away and noticed a bag of Ethan’s favorite coffee beans on her kitchen counter. Just like we had Chloe’s organic protein shakes in our kitchen. I was shockingly calm. Chloe’s smile faded into disappointment. She was annoyed that I wasn’t exploding. I followed her into the bedroom. The moment I stepped in, my eyes landed on the wall above her bed. It was covered in a heart-shaped collage of photos of her and Ethan. Some were casual polaroids, others were professional, high-end studio portraits. Right in the center was a large, framed photo. Chloe was wearing a white satin slip dress with a matching tulle veil, holding Ethan’s hand as they ran through a park. He was in a sleek suit. It wasn’t a wedding photo, but it sure as hell looked like one. Ethan’s smile in every single photo was radiant. He looked happier than he ever did with me. Chloe stood next to me, staring at the wall. “Ethan and I have so many beautiful memories together. Since we were kids.” I felt nothing. When your heart is completely dead, pain ceases to exist. “They are indeed beautiful,” I said quietly. She turned to me, a malicious glint in her eyes. “Ava, do you want to join us next time?” I let out a soft, mocking laugh. She was trying to remind me that no matter how long I was with Ethan, I was just a temporary placeholder in their lifelong romance. I looked her in the eyes. “A game is fun with two people, Chloe. Three just makes it crowded.” I didn’t want to waste another second. “Where is my pillow?” Chloe’s expression soured. She marched over to her closet, pulling things out with dramatic sighing. “Honestly, Ethan is so careless! He always leaves his things in random places. I really need to give him a piece of my mind.” I stood there, watching her little show. She pulled out a pile of Ethan’s clothes from her closet, including his t-shirts and hoodies. “Don’t get get the wrong idea, Ava,” Chloe giggled. “Ethan only crashes here maybe seven nights a month. Guys just need their space sometimes, you know? Especially when you’re traveling for work. He’s just lazy—he likes coming here because I spoil him and do everything for him.” Every single word was a slap in my face.

“I don’t care what you two do,” I said. “Just give me my pillow.” Chloe bit her lip, clearly frustrated by my lack of reaction. She violently whipped open her bedsheets. There, sitting on her bed, was her pink silk bedding. And right next to her pillow was an open box of ultra-thin condoms. She paused, waiting for me to break down. I just checked my watch. “I have a flight to catch. Hurry up.” “Fine. Let’s check the walk-in closet,” she snapped. I followed her. An open suitcase was sitting on the floor. Inside were Chloe’s summer clothes, and resting right on top was a brand-new, unopened box of the exact same ultra-thin condoms. Chloe smirked. “I’m packing for tomorrow. Ethan and I are so excited for the game.” When I didn’t say anything, she added, “The World Cup only happens once every four years, Ava. Everyone wants a seat, but the seats are limited. If you weren’t invited to the game, no matter how hard you squeeze, you’ll never fit in.” My patience finally ran out. My voice went cold as ice. “I am only here for my pillow. As for Ethan? You can keep him. I’m throwing him in the trash.” Chloe gasped, quickly trying to look innocent. “Ava, what are you talking about? Don’t say things like that! I was just talking about soccer!” “My. Pillow,” I demanded, stepping closer. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, right. I remember now. Follow me.” She led me to a third room, which had been converted into a luxury room for her cat, Cleo. The moment I walked in, I saw it. My white-and-mint-green custom sleep pillow was sitting inside the cat litter box, completely soaked in cat urine and covered in feces. The putrid smell hit my nose instantly. My blood boiled. That was my grandmother’s last gift. Chloe put on her best baby voice. “Oh my gosh, Ava, I’m so, so sorry! Cleo is just so playful! It’s just a pillow, though. I’ll buy you a better one on Amazon. Ethan really shouldn’t have left it where the cat could reach it.” SLAP! I swung my hand and slapped Chloe across the face so hard she stumbled backward. “You did that on purpose!” I screamed. “Ava!” A sharp roar came from the doorway. Ethan rushed in, immediately grabbing Chloe and checking the red mark on her cheek. Chloe burst into tears, clinging to his chest. “Ethan, don’t yell at Ava… It’s my fault…” Ethan glared at me, his eyes furious. “It’s just a damn pillow, Ava! Are you insane?!” My eyes were red with rage. I stepped up and slapped Ethan across the face too. “Yes, I am!” Ethan’s face twisted in shock. He stared at me, holding his cheek. “Ava, what the hell is wrong with you?!” “What’s wrong is that I wasted twelve years of my life loving a piece of trash like you! We are done, Ethan!” I turned on my heel and walked out. He screamed after me down the hallway, “Stop throwing a tantrum, Ava!” The next day, after finalizing everything at my office, I dragged my suitcase toward the airport terminal. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Chloe: “I ordered ten new pillows for you on Amazon. They should arrive in a couple of days. Also, Ethan and I are boarding our flight. Cleo is very sensitive, so I made a Google Doc with her feeding schedule and care instructions. Just follow it.” Then came a text from Ethan: “I’ll be back on the 9th. We’ll go straight to City Hall to get our marriage license.”

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I have Delayed Pain Syndrome. When people yelled at me, I just said, “Okay.” When they pushed me around, I said, “Okay,” too. When my parents abandoned me, I said okay. Even when my high school classmates cornered me in the restroom, I still said okay. Physical pain didn’t exist in my world. That was my reality, until I met Chloe and Nathan. One was my best friend who always shielded me, and the other was my boyfriend who looked at me as if I were his entire world. Chloe loved to tap my forehead, sighing in frustration. “Sera, if someone stole Nathan from you one day, would you just stand there like an idiot and say ‘okay’?” I would just giggle blankly. “No way. Nathan would never leave me.” But when we returned to campus after winter break, I saw them. They were locked in a passionate embrace outside our apartment building. Chloe slapped him, tears streaming down her face. “Nathan, stop! How can we do this to Sera?” “I’ll get an abortion. We’ll pretend this never happened.” Nathan’s eyes were bloodshot as he pulled her tightly back into his arms. “No, Chloe, don’t! I’ll talk to Sera. I will take responsibility for our baby!” I stood in the freezing wind, watching the two most important people in my life. For the first time, I realized that even with Delayed Pain Syndrome, my heart could still break.

I lowered my head and texted Julian. “I agree to go abroad with you for treatment.” Julian replied almost instantly: “Great. I’ll pick you up in three days.” I wanted to smile, but my tears fell first. They blurred my phone screen. I wiped my eyes quickly. I shoved my phone into my pocket. Taking a deep breath, I forced a blank smile and walked over to them slowly. “Nathan, Chloe.” I greeted them. They jumped apart, startled. Chloe turned pale, and Nathan looked incredibly guilty. But when they saw my face—always a few seconds too slow to react—they both let out a visible sigh of relief. They knew I had Delayed Pain Syndrome. So they were absolutely sure I hadn’t noticed anything. They quickly smoothed their expressions. They pretended they had just run into each other by accident. But the scent of their mingled perfumes didn’t lie. I asked softly, “Why are you guys back on campus so early?” Nathan instinctively stepped forward to hold my hand. That was how we always were. He would always walk to me and take my hand. But after just half a step, he caught Chloe’s sad, tearful eyes. He froze. Then, he stepped back to stand right beside Chloe. I looked at their shoes, perfectly aligned, and a sharp ache bloomed in my chest. Silence stretched between us. To break the awkwardness, Chloe rushed forward. She grabbed the handle of my heavy suitcase. “This is so heavy! Sera, let me carry it for you!” She spoke too loudly, trying too hard. I blinked, holding back my tears. I was afraid that if I closed my eyes, the bright eighteen-year-old Chloe I loved would vanish forever. I met her during my freshman year. Before I met Nathan. On move-in day, everyone else had their parents helping them. I was all alone. I dragged my heavy suitcase up the stairs, step by step. The students behind me grew impatient and started yelling. I was sweating and panicking. Just then, a bright, beautiful girl ran down the stairs. She grabbed my suitcase. “Are you alone? Let me help you!” She carried my stuff all the way to my room. Later, I learned her name was Chloe, and she was my roommate. From that day on, she was my only best friend. Suddenly, a harsh voice broke my memories. “Drop it!” Nathan strode over and slapped Chloe’s hand away from my suitcase. He pulled Chloe behind him. He frowned, glaring at me coldly. “Sera, Chloe… she hasn’t been feeling well lately! How can you let her carry such a heavy bag for you?” I stood there, frozen. I didn’t know how to react. I was always slow. Slow to react, slow to speak, and slow to feel. Nathan knew this better than anyone. In the past, he never blamed me for being slow. He would just smile gently and carry everything for me. But now, his voice was freezing cold. “Chloe is your best friend, not your maid!” “Stop making her do everything for you!” “Sera, you have a medical condition, not a princess complex!” My face lost all its color. My lips trembled, but no sound came out. Chloe’s expression changed too. Her eyes welled with tears as she pushed Nathan away. “Shut up, Nathan! It’s none of your business what I do!” Ignoring Nathan’s worried gaze, she grabbed my hand. “Sera, ignore him. Let’s go to our room.” I let Chloe drag me along like a puppet. Walking up the cold stairs. The slow-moving needle finally pierced my heart. For the first time, I realized that love and warmth could really be transferred to someone else.

That night, the three of us went to a nice French bistro nearby. To break the tension from the afternoon, Nathan ordered the filet mignon, knowing it was my favorite. In the past, he would always cut the best piece of steak for me first. But this time, he placed the prime cut onto Chloe’s plate. “Chloe, you’re too thin. Eat more,” he murmured. His eyes were filled with undeniable worry. Chloe froze. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with guilt and panic. Nathan realized what he had done. His face turned pale, and he quickly cut another piece of steak for me. “Sera, you eat too.” He quickly added, trying to cover up, “Chloe has had a poor appetite lately. I’m just looking out for her.” I looked at the steak on my plate. I nodded slowly. “Okay.” I chewed the meat slowly. It tasted like ash. Suddenly, Chloe covered her mouth. Her face went pale, and she dashed toward the restroom. Nathan bolted upright instantly. He stared anxiously at the restroom door. He wanted to run after her, but he forced himself to stay. He looked back at me, his hands clenched into tight fists. He was fighting his own instincts. I swallowed the bitter food. I looked up and gave him a faint smile. “Nathan, go check on Chloe. She seems really sick.” Hearing my permission, Nathan looked incredibly relieved. “Sera, wait for me here. I’ll be right back.” Without hesitation, he ran toward the restroom. I sat in the noisy restaurant. Watching him knock frantically on the restroom door. I looked down at my phone calendar. Two days left. The next day, Chloe was incredibly sweet to me. She bought my favorite strawberry cupcakes. She held my hand, her eyes red. “Sera, no matter what happens, we’ll be best friends forever, right?” Her eyes were filled with desperate pleading. I looked at her. I remembered her bright smile from our freshman year when she carried my suitcase. I nodded slowly. “Yeah.” Chloe hugged me tight and sobbed. I didn’t hug her back. My hands hung loosely at my sides, slowly clenching into fists.

The day I was scheduled to leave, it was pouring rain. Chloe insisted on taking me to a bakery across town to get some pastries. She said sweet things would make me feel better. Nathan held an umbrella, walking beside us. But the umbrella was tilted heavily over Chloe’s head. My shoulder was completely soaked by the rain. But I didn’t say anything. That was the “benefit” of my Delayed Pain Syndrome. They thought I couldn’t feel the cold. We used to be inseparable, but now we walked in dead silence. Chloe kept her head down, and Nathan’s voice sounded strained. “Sera… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…” He leaned forward, finally ready to confess the secret he had been hiding for months. But as we reached the intersection. A speeding delivery scooter swerved to avoid a puddle and lost control, rushing straight toward us. It was incredibly fast. I tried to reach out and pull Chloe back, but my slow reflexes caused me to trip and fall toward her instead. Nathan’s face twisted in panic. He shoved me away violently. “Chloe!” His powerful push sent me flying directly into the path of the speeding scooter. The impact was brutal. I was thrown into the air and rolled several times on the rough asphalt. Nathan hugged Chloe tightly, yelling at me in a rage: “Sera! How can you be so cruel? Did you seriously try to push Chloe into the scooter to save yourself?!” But when he saw my blood-covered face, he froze. I lay in a dirty puddle, dark red blood flowing down my forehead, staining the water. Nathan instinctively let go of Chloe and tried to help me up. “Sera, I…” In his arms, Chloe let out a weak whimper. Her eyes fluttered, and she fainted. Nathan stopped moving toward me. “Chloe! Chloe, wake up!” I lay on the ground, watching them. The cold rain hit my wounds. It burned like fire. My Delayed Pain Syndrome had failed me. I felt everything. I struggled to lift my head, looking at Nathan, who was only a few feet away. My lips moved weakly: “Nathan… it hurts…” But the rain was too loud. He didn’t hear me. His mind and eyes were entirely on the unconscious Chloe. Eventually, the wail of sirens pierced the rain. Paramedics rushed out with stretchers. I fought to keep my eyes open. I saw Nathan’s silhouette. But this time, he wasn’t running to save me. He picked Chloe up in his arms. He rushed toward the first ambulance. The medic stopped him. “Sir, the other girl is in critical condition! She’s losing too much blood!” Nathan held Chloe tightly, screaming hysterically: “She just has some scratches!” “Sera can wait! She has Delayed Pain Syndrome! She doesn’t feel pain like we do! She can take the next ambulance!” “But Chloe can’t! She’s pregnant! She can’t stand the sight of blood! She can’t wait!” The young man’s screaming voice pierced through the rain. It tore my heart into pieces.

By the time the second ambulance brought me to the hospital. My body was freezing. My chest felt like it was filled with crushed glass, and every breath brought the taste of blood. Soon, the doctor ran over with my scans, his face pale. “Ruptured spleen! Severe internal bleeding! We need to perform surgery immediately!” “Where are her parents? Call her emergency contact right now! We need a signature, or she won’t make it!” The nurse found my phone. She dialed the number saved under “Emergency Contact.” It rang for a long time before Nathan finally answered. In the background, I could hear Chloe’s soft whimpering. “Hello,” Nathan’s voice sounded exhausted and annoyed. The nurse said urgently, “Are you Seraphina Miller’s family? She has severe internal bleeding and needs emergency surgery right now. Please come to the ER to sign the consent form!” Silence fell over the line. Then, Chloe’s crying got louder. “Nathan, my stomach hurts so much… is our baby going to be okay…” Nathan panicked instantly. He covered the mic and whispered gently, “Don’t worry, Chloe. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.” Then, he spoke back into the phone. “Nurse, don’t let her fool you.” “She has Delayed Pain Syndrome. She doesn’t even know what pain is.” “She’s just jealous. She probably hurt herself on purpose to get attention and force me to leave Chloe.” The nurse screamed, “Sir! The patient is in critical condition! We need your signature to operate!” Nathan took a deep breath, his voice filled with cold disappointment. “Tell Sera that Chloe is pregnant with my baby.” “Since she can’t feel pain anyway, let her sit in the hallway for a while. Maybe she’ll reflect on the horrible thing she did today!” “Once Chloe is stable, I’ll come by to discharge her.” He hung up the phone. The nurse stood there, shocked. She looked at me on the gurney with deep pity. I stared at the bright ceiling lights. Tears finally rolled down my cheeks. They mixed with the blood on my face, soaking the white pillow. In that very moment. The pain that had been delayed for eighteen years hit me like a massive tsunami. It completely consumed me. The agonizing pain of a ruptured spleen, the sharp stabs of broken bones, the raw sting of torn flesh. Everything exploded inside me all at once. But the pain in my heart was a thousand times worse. I gasped like a dying fish, desperate for air, but only managed to cough up blood. “Patient is crashing! Keep her with us!” The doctors and nurses rushed around me. I bit my lip until it bled. Just as the doctor was about to call the police for emergency authorization to operate. A strong, warm hand took the consent form from the doctor. A calm, deep voice spoke: “I am her legal guardian and fiancé. I will sign.” Hearing that familiar, comforting voice, I finally let the darkness take me. … After Chloe’s checkup showed absolutely nothing was wrong. Nathan finally let out a sigh of relief. He sat down and checked his phone. He realized Sera hadn’t sent him a single text. Remembering how she looked lying in the mud, covered in blood, he felt a sudden pang of guilt. He walked toward her ward. But right outside the door. He paused. He went downstairs to buy the pastries Sera loved. He pushed the door open and said casually: “Sera, look what I bought you—” But the room was completely empty. He froze. Frowning, he pulled out his phone and sent an annoyed voice message: “Sera, stop acting like a child. You’re hurt, why aren’t you resting in bed? Where did you go?” But none of his texts went through. A sudden wave of panic hit him. He grabbed a passing nurse, his voice trembling. “Where is the girl who was brought in from the car crash? The one with blood all over her face?” The nurse recognized his voice as the man who had refused to sign the consent form. Her face turned cold and mocking. “Oh, that lady? Her fiancé took her away right after her surgery.”

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The year I hated my mother most, she drugged me, tied me up, and threw me into my brother-in-law Caleb’s bed to replace my sister. One night was all it took for my heart to follow my body. I fell for him. Hard. For the next five years, I lived like a ghost in the Blood Moon Pack. Caleb told me I owed it to my sister, Sara Shannon—his fated mate who had died—to repent for the sin of taking her place. He wanted me to focus on raising Kian, Sara’s pup and the pack’s heir, so he took my womb out of my belly to make sure I’d never have a pup of my own. Finally, Caleb’s icy heart seemed to thaw. He promised to make it official. Our mating ceremony was set for five days away. I thought the Moon had finally seen my deepest love for him. But on the eve before the ceremony, the front gates of the pack house swung open, and Caleb walked in with a she-wolf I thought was long buried. “Sara was just playing dead to get back at me,” Caleb announced, his voice booming with Alpha authority. “Now that she’s back, the ceremony is off.” My fingers clutched the ritual gown I had spent six months embroidering with my own blood and sweat. Without a word, I walked to the fireplace and tossed the silk into the flames. “Whatever the Alpha commands,” I said, my voice eerily calm. … “Miss, no! Your gown!” Freya, my only friend and an Omega maid, rushed forward to save it. Before her hand could touch the silk, Sara moved. Slap! The sound echoed through the hall. Sara sneered. “A nameless thing like you, crawling around my pack house like a parasite… you think you deserve to wear a Luna’s gown?” Caleb didn’t stop her. He didn’t even flinch. “The maid is out of line,” he said, his Alpha aura crushing the room. “Just kill her. No need to get your hands dirty, Sara.” My blood ran cold. I dropped to my knees, baring my neck in total submission. “Freya has been by my side since I was a pup. She acted out of loyalty to me. Please, Alpha. Show mercy.” Sara let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “So, you’re admitting you were lusting after things that don’t belong to you, Gloria?” She turned to Caleb, her voice turning into a sweet, poisonous purr. “Caleb, darling, if she wants to save her maid, she should take thirty lashes. To learn the rules of the house. What do you think?” Caleb looked at me. There was no pity in his gaze, only a desire to erase the last five years. “You are the Luna of this pack, Sara,” Caleb said, his voice flat. “Do as you wish.” I was dragged to the courtyard and forced onto the whipping post. The silver-tipped lash cracked against my back. Once. Twice. Sweat stung my eyes, blurring my vision as the scent of my own blood filled the air. My heart had already been destroyed three times. The first was when my mother sold me to Caleb. The second was when Caleb made me kneel at Sara’s grave for three days and nights. The third was… right now. “Twenty… twenty-one…” the guard grunted, counting the strokes. By the thirtieth lash, I collapsed. The cold stone of the courtyard felt like ice against my burning skin. Sara walked over, her heels clicking near my head. She used the toe of her shoe to tilt my chin up, forcing me to look at her through the grime and blood. “Remember this, Gloria,” she whispered. “Some things aren’t yours. If you touch them, you pay. The thirty lashes were just the beginning. I’m burning away the dirt you left in this house.” She kicked my face aside. Caleb’s shadow fell over me. “Take her away,” he commanded the guards. “Find a healer to patch her up. Sara is being merciful today. This is over.” … When I woke up, Caleb was sitting by my bed. He reached out to touch my shoulder, but I flinched, my body acting on instinct. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice carrying a fake edge of concern. “The medicine just started working.” I turned my head away, staring at the wall. Caleb sighed, sounding annoyed. “I know you feel wronged, but you’ve been living in Sara’s position for five years. She’s just being a little bit jealous. She needed to make an example to establish her authority now that she’s home.” Authority. That was all my life was to him—a tool for Sara’s power. “In a few days, I’m throwing a banquet to welcome Sara back,” Caleb continued. “During the party, I’ll officially enter your name into the pack records. It’s a great honor for someone of your rank.” I stayed silent, and his patience snapped. “Don’t be ungrateful, Gloria,” he growled. A maid knocked on the door. “Alpha, the Luna is asking for you.” Caleb stood up instantly. The feigned warmth vanished, replaced by the cold, commanding Alpha I knew. He didn’t look back as he walked out. As soon as the door clicked shut, Freya crept in and pressed a crumpled letter into my hand. I recognized the handwriting. A small, genuine smile touched my lips. “Pack the bags, Freya,” I whispered, my voice raspy but firm. “The night of the banquet, when the house is loud and full of wolves… we’re leaving this hell for good.”

[Gloria’s POV] “Miss Gloria… Can you really be heartless enough to leave it all behind?” I opened my mouth to answer, but a sharp knock interrupts me. It’s Kian’s nurse. “The heir is screaming for you. Please, come quickly.” I ignored the pain in my back and rushed to his room. Kian had always been sickly. When I first joined the pack, he caught Silver-rot. I didn’t sleep for a fortnight, nearly dying myself to pull him back from the brink. He used to be so sweet, treating me like his own mother. He was the only thing I couldn’t bear to leave. But when I entered, I saw Kian snuggled in Sara’s arms. My heart stung. Just as I turned to leave, Kian called out. “Gloria, I called you here to take this filth away.” Gloria, not Mom. I froze at the title. Then, a dead cat was thrown at my feet. “I had this beast killed,” he said calmly. I stare at the small, bloodied body in disbelief. Last year, Kian begged me for this cat. I kneeled outside Caleb’s room in the freezing rain for a day and a night to let him keep it. Kian cried and rubbed my bruised knees, promising to protect me forever. “What did he ever do to you? Why would you do this?” I whispered. “He scratched my mother!” Kian shouted. “This little beast is just like you—low-ranked and useless. It upset my mother, so it had to die!” Sara stroked his hair, a smile curling on her lips. “Don’t blame my boy, Gloria. He’s just too loyal. He can’t stand to see me hurt.” Kian nodded sharply, his eyes full of coldness I couldn’t recognize. “Get this trash out of here! It’s stinking up my wing!” Caleb walked in then, standing by Sara. He didn’t even blink at the dead cat. “Just a pet,” he said coldly. “Stop making a scene. Clean it up and get out.” I didn’t say a word, just picked up the cat, carried it out, and buried it in the garden. Freya was waiting by my side with red eyes. A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “You see? Now I can leave without a single regret.” When I returned to my room, Caleb was there. He reached out to pinch my face. “Crying over a little pet? Is it really worth it?” He pulled me into his arms, sounding like he was granting a favor. “No Wolfsbane tonight. If you get pregnant, we’ll keep the pup. Consider it your compensation.” He says it so casually, as if he had forgotten that I could never have pups again. Five years ago, he was in my room every night. Even with the potions, I got pregnant. I thought he might finally love me then. I told him, trembling with hope. But Caleb didn’t smile. He called for the pack’s blade-healer and, with a single word, ordered them to carve the womb from my body. I could still remember the slap. “You low-ranked trash! You think you can replace Sara with a bastard in your belly?” I bled alone on the straw in the dungeon for twelve hours. My pup died, and my womb was scarred forever. Caleb reached into my clothes, yet I flinched away from his touch. “The Luna just returned,” I said flatly. “The Alpha should be with his mate.” The room went silent. Caleb’s hand froze. He laughed, but his eyes were dark. “You’ve certainly learned how to give me orders.” “I wouldn’t dare,” I whispered. “Sara’s tired. You should show her some care.”

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My fiancé is sitting in a high-stakes back room at The Velvet Room, betting his whole life away. For a woman who isn’t me. Just to walk out the door with his ex-girlfriend Celeste Moore, the one the Bratva just shipped off to work the floors of a red-light joint. And her three friends. Two rounds in, Damien has already lost the Patek Philippe I clasped onto his wrist the day he made VP. And one third of Aurora Capital. The boutique fund in my name. The shares I quietly signed into his name a year ago, under the polite cover of “investing in his future.” Round three. Viktor, the man behind The Velvet Room leans across the felt and tells him to bet the thing he loves most. Damien doesn’t blink. He slides off the platinum cufflinks at his wrists. The ones I had engraved for our engagement. He smacks them down dead center on the table. His voice carries clean across the floor — calm like he’s closing a deal. “If I lose—” “I’ll break off my engagement to Aurora Castellano. And I’ll marry the girl on that stage instead.” “And I’ll let Aurora take her place. After all, there’s no shame in honest work.” The whole room sucks in a breath. Everyone down there knows my name. Aurora Castellano. Manhattan’s Ivy League sweetheart. Heiress to Aurora Capital. The woman who loved a man enough to give him a third of the empire she was born to inherit. He’s betting I’ll come downstairs with a checkbook and bail him out of the three million he just bled into Viktor’s table. So he can keep his perfect Wall Street record clean. And pull his sweetheart out of the fire while he’s at it. I lift my bourbon. I look down at the man I was supposed to marry. He still has no idea I’m watching. “If Mr. Cross wants to break our engagement,” I murmur, swirling the ice, “and humiliate me like this on the way out—” “He’d better think about how he’s going to explain it to my seven brothers.” Everyone knows the Castellanos have seven heirs spread across Wall Street and Silicon Valley. The world doesn’t know those seven brothers are the real shadow kings of this city. And they spoil their little sister to death. …… “Three rounds, Mr. Cross. You’re cleaned out.” Viktor, owner of The Velvet Room slams the dice cup onto the felt. The floor erupts. Drunk laughter. Catcalls. Damien stands in the middle of it all. Hands in his pockets. Chin lifted. Not a crack in his face. He looks up. Straight at my room. “Aurora. I know you’re up there.” His voice cuts through the noise like he’s calling me down to him. “Come down and cover the three million. After tonight—” “—I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” The room buzzes again. “The Aurora Capital heiress, bailing out her man’s mess?” “Cross really outdid himself—using his fiancée’s money to save his ex-girlfriend.” I sit in the velvet armchair. I look down at this man again. Three years of patience curdles in my stomach. I used to think his coldness was discipline. Focus. The mark of a man going places. I rewrote his résumé in our second year at Columbia. I introduced him to the senior partners at company. I sat in front of my own board and defended him when they asked, why him? And he took every single piece of it like it was air. Tonight I see it for what it is — self-righteousness wearing a clean suit. Damien’s brow tightens when I don’t move. He cuts a small look sideways with Celeste’s three friends. A nod. They lift the hems of their dress and storm the stairs. The first one — Brittany — kicks my door clean off its frame. The oak slams into the wall. She crosses the room in four strides. Acrylic nails go straight for the Castellano emerald around my neck. “Aurora! Damien said pay up! Get your card out and save Celeste already!” The second one — Madison — folds her arms in the doorway. “Honestly. The only reason he stayed with a controlling bitch like you was the trust fund.” The third one — Sienna — screeches over her shoulder. “You’re not worth a single hair on Celeste’s head! Pay up, or do you actually want to watch him dump you?” My bodyguard’s hand drops to his holster. Before he doesn’t get the gun out. Four men in black appear out of nowhere and pin his shoulders to the wall. Damien’s private security. He brought security tonight. So, all of this is to guard against me. I stand up. Brittany’s red-tipped nail is one inch from my throat. I raise my right hand and I slap her across the face with everything I have. *SLAP.* She stumbles back three steps and lands on the carpet. I look her down. The room temperature drops ten degrees. “You don’t get to touch what belongs to a Castellano.” I tilt my head down at her, picking the skin off my knuckle where her acrylic split it. “Cute manicure. Send the bill to your funeral home.” My voice is quiet. It carries anyway. Downstairs, Damien tips his head back. His face goes to stone. “Aurora! Are you serious right now? Slapping a girl who’s just trying to help her friend?” I step to the railing. I meet his eyes. “You want me to pay three million to save the woman you’ve been contacting on the side?” I chuckled softly. “Damien. Your face is thicker than the walls of this place.”

Damien’s nostrils flare. He must think I just shamed him. He throws his jacket open and points up the staircase. “Boys—if Miss Castellano doesn’t understand manners, escort her down. She owes Celeste an apology in person.” A dozen men with baseball bats start up the stairs. The bats thud against the staircase railing — slow, deliberate, meant to scare. My fingers slide into the pocket of my gown. The Castellano family ring waits inside. Downstairs, Damien’s private security disarms my own bodyguards, twisting their wrists until they drop to their knees. Damien climbs the marble staircase one step at a time. He stops in front of me. Tips his chin down like he’s the one with the moral high ground. “Aurora. I’ve put up with your jealousy for three years.” He gestures at the three girls behind him. “There are four lives on the line tonight. How can you be this cold?” Down below, Celeste gets walked out from the back. Cheap white dress. Red-rimmed eyes. Mascara smudged just enough to look helpless. She drops to her knees at the foot of the staircase like she rehearsed it in a mirror. “Damien! Please—don’t ruin what you have with Aurora because of me!” She lifts her face. The perfect tremor in her voice. “I’m not worth this. Let me die. Let you two be happy.” Brittany and the other two scramble across the floor to her, sobbing on cue. “You happy now, you cold bitch? You won’t be satisfied until she’s dead!” The gamblers around the room shake their heads. They point up at me. They mutter the kind of things men mutter when they want to feel righteous. I watch the show downstairs. I don’t bother lifting the corner of my mouth. But Damien stares at my blank face. His jaw locks. And now Celeste shivers right on cue — just one little shoulder twitch, arms wrapped around herself like she’s freezing. Damien’s eyes drop to the white sable coat draped over the back of my chair. Don Salvatore—the Don of this city—draped it over my shoulders himself on my eighteenth birthday. He suddenly steps forward and reaches for the clasp at my throat. “Celeste’s freezing. Just give her your coat for now. I’ll buy you ten.” His hand moves like he’s allowed to. Like I’m something he already owns. I step back at once. His fingers close on empty air. I look up at him. “Damien.” My voice is cold. “You put a hand on my anything— you’d better make sure you still have a hand afterward.” Damien’s hand stopped halfway. His jaw tightened, and the color drained from his face. “Just a coat, Aurora.” “Seriously, Aurora? Over a coat? Celeste’s been through enough tonight. If she gets sick out here, that’s on you.” “Her life matters.” I laugh once. Short. Cold. “Mine doesn’t?” “This whole night. I’ve been watching it. You’ve been showing me exactly who you are. Damien.” Downstairs, Viktor’s smile disappeared completely. He was done waiting for Damien’s check. He shifts his stance. The warmth drops out of his eyes. “Listen up, Mr. Cross — no cash, no exit. You gambled away your fiancée. House rules.” He waves one fat hand. “Boys! Get her changed and onto the stage. Let’s see what an Ivy League princess looks like in lingerie.” I keep my body calm. My right hand slides into the hidden pocket of my gown. My thumb finds the inside of the Castellano family ring. Three small grooves. The signal my seven brothers told me I could press exactly once in danger. *Tap.* *Tap.* *Tap.* Somewhere across Manhattan, seven phones light up at the same second.

Twelve men with baseball bats just sealed the only way out of my private box. My security tears free of the men holding him and throws himself at the staircase, ready to die for me. Viktor’s men don’t even hesitate. A tactical knife flashes once. *Thud.* The blade goes straight through my security left shoulder. Hot blood sprays in an arc. A few drops land on the hem of my gown. The smell hits the air. I lock my eyes on Damien. “Damien. Are you really going to stand there and watch?” For one second, he flinches. His eyes drop to my bodyguard bleeding into the carpet. Then he turns to Viktor. “This isn’t fair. Sign a promissory note. Three days. Full three million plus interest.” Viktor snorts. “Your IOU? Worth about as much as that Patek you already lost.” He nods toward the stage downstairs.. “Tonight Celeste and that three friends stay and works it off as a whore, or your fiancée goes on the stage.” Celeste screams. She flings herself at Damien’s legs and clings on with both hands. “Damien — please — I’d rather die than be passed around in a place like this — save me — !” He looks down at her. A muscle ticks in his jaw. Then he turns his head, slow and pained, and looks at me. I see the exact moment he decides. So disgusting. “Aurora. It’s one dance. Just for show.” The voice he uses when he wants to sound soft. “After tonight, I’ll give you the biggest wedding this city’s ever seen. Every name in Manhattan.” “But Celeste — I have to save her.” The room goes still. He just traded my dignity for his ex-girlfriend’s safety. I look at him with narrowed eyes. “You’ll spend the rest of your life making it up to me?” My voice doesn’t shake. “But Damien. You’re not even worth the breath it takes to be angry with you.” Celeste keeps her eyes lowered. But I catch it. That tiny, ugly little smile at the corner of her mouth. Her friends take Damien’s silence as a green light. Brittany shoves the cocktail waitresses aside and gets right up in my face. Her red acrylics close around the strap of my gown. “No more pretending. Put it on and go dance. The crowd downstairs didn’t come to wait.” *RIIIIP.* The straps tears clean off. Bare skin. The cold air of the casino hits it. I don’t scream. I don’t cry. I don’t move. I count the time. Almost. My brothers will be coming. Damien sees me standing still and reads it as defiance. He waved a hand, signaling Viktor’s men to hurry. “Enough.” He turns his back on me. And pulls Celeste behind him like she’s the one who needs protecting. “Get her on the stage. Sooner this is done, sooner Celeste and I go home.”

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Ever since I found out my husband was having an affair, I wanted nothing more than to kill him. Until one rainy night. He was meeting that woman again down by Crescent Lake. I saw his hand resting on her waist, tilting his head to kiss her. A few moments later, the woman headed back to her car to answer a phone call. Leaving him standing alone in his yellow raincoat, right at the edge of the wet stone steps. I couldn’t control myself anymore. I rushed forward and, with every ounce of strength I had, shoved him into the dark, freezing waters. He thrashed wildly a few times before sinking beneath the surface, completely swallowed by the lake. Back home, I stripped off my soaked clothes. An eerie, unprecedented peace settled over me. But the next morning, the doorbell rang. I took a deep breath, steeling myself to play the part of the grieving widow. Yet when I opened the door, it wasn’t the police standing there. It was my husband. My heart leaped into my throat. He was alive and well. If he was standing here, then who the hell did I push into the lake last night? 1 He was dripping wet, but there wasn’t a scratch on him. He didn’t look like someone who had just drowned. How was this possible? I had personally pushed him into the depths. I forced myself to breathe, desperately trying to project a calm facade. “Where on earth have you been? You could have at least told me you were going out in the middle of the night.” He gave a careless grin, setting down an empty bucket on the entryway floor. “Just out fishing.” Fishing. Always fishing. Chad was obsessed with night fishing, constantly slipping away to Crescent Lake. But I knew the truth. Fishing was nothing but a pathetic excuse. He was sneaking out to meet Sylvia. Sylvia was his secretary. At the office, they kept a professional distance, but the moment they clocked out, they were practically glued to each other. They thought they were being incredibly clever, but I had known for months. His messages were synced to our home computer. Sylvia had been pressuring him to leave me, demanding he make things official. Chad had been putting her off, but last night, his tone shifted. He told her he needed to deal with me first to clear the way for her. That was the final straw. Blinded by rage, I followed him to the lake. My plan was to push him in and frame Sylvia, but somehow, something went horribly wrong. Wait. If the person who drowned wasn’t Chad, could it have been Sylvia? It was pouring last night. Maybe he gave her his raincoat, and in the pitch-black storm, I mistook her silhouette for his. I set the breakfast plates on the table, trying to sound casual. “Heavy rain last night. Everything okay out there?” He shook his head, taking a bite of his food. “Fine. Why wouldn’t it be? It’s not like anyone threw themselves into the lake.” My heart skipped a beat. Did he know something? Why would he say something so specific out of nowhere? I lowered my head and took a sip of my coffee, trying to steady my breathing. No, if Sylvia had drowned, he wouldn’t be sitting here so calmly. Right then, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, his face turning slightly pale. He grabbed the phone and walked out onto the balcony. I caught a glimpse of the screen. It was Sylvia. Sylvia was alive. My stomach dropped. If it wasn’t Chad, and it wasn’t Sylvia, who did I push into the abyss? 2 A name suddenly flashed in my mind. Blake? Blake lived just a street over. He was in his fifties, an incredibly kind-hearted man. He was a regular at Crescent Lake, always taking a stroll along the water after dinner. If I had accidentally killed him, the guilt would crush me. He had practically watched me grow up. When my parents divorced, I sat on the curb crying my eyes out, and he was the one who took me in. His wife, Maureen, made me a warm bowl of soup to comfort me. How could I have done this to him? “What are you daydreaming about?” Chad’s voice shattered my thoughts. He was standing right in front of me, back from the balcony. “Nothing,” I murmured, quickly gathering the dishes. He hesitated, his face unusually grave. “Fiona, do you have a minute? We need to talk.” I glanced at his phone, already guessing it was about Sylvia. But my mind was entirely consumed by Blake. I had no patience for Chad’s lies. I threw on my coat. “I don’t have time right now. We’ll talk when I get back.” I practically ran to Blake’s house. The front door was locked tight. My chest tightened. At this hour, Blake and Maureen usually loved setting up a folding table on the porch to play cards with Mrs. Higgins and Mr. Fletcher, laughing and bickering until dusk. But today, the porch was empty. As I stood there debating whether to knock, hurried footsteps echoed behind me. “Fiona!” I spun around. It was Maureen, looking pale and frantic. “Aunt Maureen? What’s wrong?” “Have you seen Blake? He went out last night and never came back. I’ve tried calling him a dozen times, but it goes straight to voicemail. He never does this. I’m so worried.” I swallowed hard, a cold sweat breaking out on my neck. “He likes to walk around Crescent Lake. Have you checked down there?” “I did, but there’s no sign of him. Oh god, Fiona, what if something terrible happened to him?” My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a vice. I forced my voice to remain steady. “Don’t panic, Aunt Maureen. I’ll go look for him. You stay here in case he comes back.” Without waiting for a reply, I turned and rushed away, tears hot against my cold cheeks. When I reached Crescent Lake, I walked straight to the stone steps. Standing at the edge, I stared down. The water was perfectly still, offering no secrets. I walked the entire perimeter of the lake, searching every shadow, but found nothing. Desperate and exhausted, I slid down onto the damp grass, on the verge of a breakdown. Suddenly, my phone vibrated. It was Maureen. “Fiona, don’t worry anymore! Blake is home!” A massive wave of relief washed over me. “That stubborn old fool crashed his e-bike last night. Hurt himself pretty badly and someone helped him to the hospital. He was too embarrassed to call me and spent the night in the ward. I’m going to kill him when he gets his strength back.” Maureen kept rambling, but my mind went entirely blank. I hung up and slowly stood up. Blake was safe. He was alive. I stared back at the glassy surface of the lake. If it wasn’t him, then who was at the bottom of that water? 3 When I got home, Chad had already prepared dinner. I was stunned. In our five years of marriage, he had never once touched a frying pan. I sat down, watching him. “You said this morning you wanted to talk. What is it?” He carefully put a roasted pork chop onto my plate, lingering for a moment before speaking. “Fiona, there have been some nasty rumors going around the office lately about me and one of the secretaries. If you hear anything, please don’t believe it.” I stared at him. “Which secretary?” “Sylvia. You know her. But I swear, there’s absolutely nothing between us. We’re strictly professional.” His expression was so earnest, so painfully sincere. It was almost funny. If I hadn’t read their messages with my own eyes, I might have actually believed him. I took a small bite of my food. “Right. Why bring this up so suddenly?” He gave a sheepish, defensive laugh. “Just didn’t want you getting the wrong idea, that’s all.” I nodded, remaining silent. Someone at his company must have caught wind of their affair, and he was trying to run damage control before I found out. I set my fork down and looked him dead in the eye. “Then tell me, what exactly were you doing last night?” He stiffened slightly. “Fiona, I told you. I was fishing. I didn’t go anywhere else.” He said it with such absolute conviction. The man was a pathological liar. Looking at his face made my stomach churn. And then my thoughts drifted back to the shadow I had pushed into the lake. I still had no idea who it was. An innocent stranger had lost their life because of my reckless rage. I stood up. “I’m going out for a walk.” I wandered the streets aimlessly, my mind a chaotic mess of guilt. Maybe I should confess. No matter who it was, it was my fault. But what if they didn’t die? What if they swam out? But if they had, wouldn’t they have called the police? Wouldn’t they be looking for me? Even if I went to the police now, there wasn’t even a body. Just then, I noticed a crowd gathering up ahead near the park entrance. Muffled voices drifted over. “Someone’s dead.” “They found a body in the water.” My legs began to tremble violently. Step by agonizing step, I forced myself toward the crowd. I squeezed through the onlookers and saw the figure lying on the grass. The body was bloated and pale, the facial features unrecognizable from water damage. My knees felt like lead. It was all my fault. I had killed an innocent person. I deserved to rot. Up until now, I had clung to the desperate hope that whoever it was had survived. But looking at the cold corpse in front of me, there was no denying it. The only right thing to do was to turn myself in. A couple of police officers and a forensic examiner pushed past the crowd. The medical examiner did a quick, preliminary check on the spot. “Crescent Lake isn’t the primary crime scene,” the examiner called out to an officer. “The victim was poisoned first, then dumped in the lake. Time of death is roughly two to three days ago.” My brain went completely numb. Poisoned? And the time of death didn’t match at all. It wasn’t my victim. My knees buckled, and I nearly collapsed. I didn’t kill them. I didn’t kill them. I took a deep, trembling breath and slowly backed out of the crowd. The police were already cordoning off the area, and the body was zipped into a black bag. As the onlookers began to disperse, I stood by the curb, my racing heart slowly returning to a normal rhythm. But the terrifying question returned, louder than ever. If this wasn’t the person I pushed, who did I plunge into the dark water? 4 If I kept spinning in circles, I was going to lose my mind. Instead of waiting for doom, I needed to take control. There had to be some detail I was overlooking. I walked back to the stone steps by the lake. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But just as I turned to leave, something caught my eye. Directly above the pathway, a small security camera blinked with a steady red light. My heart seized. How could I have been so blind? After a couple of near-drownings the previous year, the neighborhood association had installed security cameras around Crescent Lake. Everything that happened last night was on tape. The world seemed to tilt beneath my feet. If the police reviewed the footage, they would see me shoving someone into the water. I would be locked away for murder. But if they had the footage, why hadn’t they knocked on my door yet? I decided to pay a visit to the property management office. The young man working the desk looked up as I walked in. “Can I help you?” “I lost my wedding ring near the lake path last night,” I lied, my voice tight. “I was hoping I could look at the security footage to see if I can spot where it slipped off.” He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes lingering a bit too long. “Sure. Go ahead.” He led me into the tiny surveillance room and pointed to the screen. “Knock yourself out. I’m going to step out for a smoke.” I sat in front of the monitor, my hands shaking so badly I could barely grip the mouse. I scrolled back to last night’s timestamp. 11:00 PM: Nothing. Just a blank screen. 1:00 AM: Still nothing. The feed didn’t resume until 8:00 AM this morning. I dragged the slider back and forth, confirming there was absolutely no footage from the night before. It wasn’t deleted; there was simply no recording at all. I stood up and walked out. The attendant was just finishing his cigarette. “Any luck?” I shook my head. “No. But why is the footage from last night completely missing?” He gave me a strange, knowing smile. “Oh, that. The camera got waterlogged during the storm and short-circuited. We only got it fixed this morning.” I thanked him and hurried out into the cool night air. A great weight lifted from my chest. The camera had been broken. No one knew what I had done. The person I pushed must have been a strong swimmer. They probably scrambled out of the lake on their own. If they hadn’t gone to the police, it meant they didn’t want any trouble either. I hadn’t killed anyone. With that realization, the suffocating anxiety that had plagued me all day finally evaporated. When I got home, Chad was stretched out on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He frowned when he saw me. “Fiona, what is up with you lately? It’s finally the weekend, and you’re constantly running out.” “Just felt a bit cooped up. Needed some air,” I replied dismissively. Watching him lie there so peacefully made a bitter resentment flare up inside me. I had spent the entire day living in a waking nightmare, convinced I was a murderer, while the man who caused all of this didn’t have a care in the world. If he hadn’t cheated on me, I would never have been pushed to such a dark edge. I was tired of the suspicion, tired of the fear, tired of letting this toxic marriage eat away at my soul. I looked at him, my voice cold and clear. “Chad, I want a divorce.” He sat up instantly, staring at me in disbelief. “Are you insane? Why would you suddenly want a divorce? Did someone say something to you? Is this about Sylvia? I told you, she and I are strictly” The sharp ring of the doorbell cut him off. I opened the door to find two police officers standing under the porch light. “Good evening. We’re with the local precinct. A body was recovered from Crescent Lake today, and security footage shows you visited the lakefront three times today. We need you to come with us to answer a few questions.” My mind went entirely blank. Before I could even process their words, the second officer pulled a photograph from his folder. “Do you recognize this person?” I stared at the picture, the breath leaving my lungs in a sharp gasp. Every baffling piece of the puzzle suddenly fell into place with terrifying clarity.

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1 On the day I was diagnosed as brain-dead, I laughed. Because I believed I had been reborn. In that beautiful, fleeting vision, I didn’t go to prison to cover for my sister. Instead, I passed my exams, got into a prestigious university, met a wonderful man, and was about to walk down the aisle into a beautiful marriage. But just as I reached out to take my groom’s hand, the scene began to dissolve. The brilliant lights faded into a crushing, suffocating darkness. The music died, replaced by the sterile smell of hospital disinfectant and the rhythmic, hollow beep of medical monitors. There was no fiancé, no justice, and no fresh start. The wonderful life I had just lived was nothing more than a dying brain’s final, cruel trick, a dream from which I could never truly wake. Above me, a familiar voice trembled with tears. “Dr. Brooks, please. Is there really no other way? Can we really not just turn off the machines?” It was my mother, Martha. Her voice was thick with weeping. All my life, whenever my half-sister, Gemma, and I had a conflict, my mother would adopt this exact same tearful, pleading face, always begging me to make the sacrifice. “Mrs. Lane,” the doctor replied, his voice calm and professional. “The patient is in a deep, vegetative coma.” “Though her breathing is incredibly weak, the ventilator is keeping her stable. Pulling the plug means immediate death. As her mother, have you fully considered this?” My mind screamed in terror. Vegetative state? Pulling the plug? Immediate death? I fought to cry out. I’m not dead! I can hear you! I’m still in here! Mother, please, save me! But my body refused to respond. Not even a finger would twitch. “I’ve made up my mind,” Martha sobbed, her hand gently brushing against my cheek. Her palm was warm, just as it had been for the twenty-odd years she used to tuck me into bed. But the words that followed froze the very blood in my veins. “It’s been three years. Grace was beaten so badly in that place, and she has lain here like a corpse ever since. She has suffered too much.” “Since she can’t wake up, letting her go is a mercy.” She sniffled, her voice catching as she continued. “Besides, today… today is Gemma’s wedding day.” “Gemma told me she has carried this guilt in her heart for years. She said as long as her sister is lingering like this, she will never be able to find peace in her marriage.” “Doctor, Grace already took the blame for her sister once.” “Today is a joyous day. Let her leave this world in peace. Let her passing clear the air for her sister’s wedding. We shouldn’t let her linger and ruin the auspicious hour.” A cold horror washed over me. Took the blame? Clear the air? My chest felt incredibly tight. I wanted to scream, to laugh at the absurdity of it, but my throat was blocked, and no tears would come. Five years ago, a car with a blood-stained hood had pulled into our yard. Gemma had huddled in the corner of the sofa, shaking violently. Our mother had fallen to her knees, clutching my legs. “Grace! I beg of you! Your sister has the civil service entrance exam next month!” “She can’t have a criminal record! You’re the younger sister, and you don’t have a career yet. Just help me this once. Go to the station and tell them you were the one driving!” I had stared at my mother in utter disbelief. “Mom! She hit someone and fled the scene! You want me to take the fall for that?” “I will go to prison! Stand up, we need to call the police. Let Gemma turn herself in; maybe they’ll show her mercy!” I had tried to pull her up, crying. “No! Grace, Gemma doesn’t have a father. She only has me!” “If you don’t save her, I will end my life right in front of you!” My mother had begun striking herself across the face, over and over, until blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. “Just let it go, Grace. I beg of you, please…” “I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you, I swear!” That desperate plea had sent me to the police station in Gemma’s place. Because I couldn’t bear to watch my mother destroy herself, I took a seven-year sentence. But I didn’t receive any compensation. All I found in that prison was living hell. 2 The sharp click of high heels drew near, the scent of expensive perfume cutting through the smell of disinfectant. “Mom, what did the doctor say?” Gemma asked. My mother’s voice turned anxious. “Gemma, why are you here in your wedding dress? That’s bad luck!” “Today is my big day, how could I not come to see my sister?” The sound of rustling fabric followed as she stepped closer to my bed. “Grace, look at me. Isn’t your sister beautiful today?” “This gown is custom-made. Nolan had it flown in from Paris just for me.” Gemma’s tone was filled with a familiar, condescending triumph. She reached down, her hand resting on the back of my wrist. In the next second, her manicured nails dug deep into the tender flesh of my inner arm. She pinched, twisting her fingers a full hundred and eighty degrees. An agonizing pain flared through my arm, but I couldn’t make a sound. “Oh, her hands are so cold,” Gemma gasped, her voice dripping with mock concern. She dug her nails in even deeper, puncturing the skin until a thin trickle of blood began to seep out. My mother wiped her eyes. “Yes, she’s had a hard life. Gemma, you really are a wonderful sister.” “If Grace could feel this, knowing you came to see her in your wedding dress, she would be so comforted.” I felt a bitter, freezing anger. Mother, open your eyes! Look at what your precious daughter is doing! She is mutilating your child right in front of you! “Mrs. Lane,” the doctor called out. “Since you’ve made your decision, please sign the consent form to withdraw life support.” “Once we remove the tube, she will pass away from respiratory failure within ten minutes.” “Alright… I’ll sign,” Martha’s voice shook. I screamed in the silence of my mind, begging her not to. I tried to focus every ounce of my will on my fingertips, desperate to make them move, but my body remained heavy and unresponsive. Despair settled over me like a shroud. The door to the room opened. “Gemma, why are you still here? The wedding cars have been waiting downstairs for over half an hour.” “We’re going to miss the entrance hour.” Footsteps stopped near the foot of my bed. It was Nolan. He was the university senior I had secretly loved for four years, and now, he was Gemma’s fiancé. Gemma let go of my arm, her voice turning soft. “Nolan, I just couldn’t leave her. Seeing her like this, how can I focus on my wedding?” “Why are you wasting your tears on her? She’s just a convict,” Nolan said, his voice laced with disgust. “She was jealous of everything you had, so she stole your car and ran someone over.” “She deserved to be locked up. Honestly, being beaten into a vegetable in prison is just karma catching up to her.” The sheer absurdity of his words made me want to laugh. Gemma was the one who had taken my car that rainy night. When she came back covered in blood, I was the one who took the fall. Nolan knew nothing of the truth; he only saw the sweet, fragile victim Gemma played so well. “Nolan, don’t say that about my sister. She… she was just impulsive.” “She’s spent three years paying for her mistake. She’s suffered enough,” Gemma murmured. “You’re too kind, Gemma. A cold-blooded criminal like her doesn’t deserve your sympathy.” Nolan turned to my mother. “Mrs. Lane, if you’ve made your decision, please sign the papers. Keeping this depressing presence around on Gemma’s wedding day is only going to bring bad luck to the marriage.” Depressing presence. The words stung, and a hot spark of rage flared in my chest. I wondered how my mother would react to someone speaking about me that way. Martha only sighed. “Yes, Nolan is right.” “Gemma, your sister wouldn’t want to stand in the way of your happiness.” She reached into her bag, and the scent of mothballs drifted over the bed. “I bought this floral dress for Grace when she turned eighteen,” my mother said softly. “It was her favorite. Once she passes, I’ll burn it for her.” “She came into this world clean, and she should leave it clean.” “Her father won’t blame her when she meets him on the other side.” My mother’s tears fell onto my blanket. I knew she loved me in her own weak, twisted way. When we were kids, she would secretly save treats for me. When Gemma hurt me, she would quietly apply ointment to my cuts when no one was looking. But her weakness had allowed her to sacrifice me to protect Gemma, and now, she was about to end my life. This wasn’t a mercy. I was fully conscious. Even when those three inmates had held my head under the water in the prison washroom, I had never given up on the hope of living. Even when my skull was fractured and the blood ran hot down my face, I wanted to survive to look my mother in the eye. I wanted to ask her if I had finally paid my debt of birth to her. And now, she was going to pull the plug herself, just so she wouldn’t delay Gemma’s wedding. “Mrs. Martha Lane, please sign here.” “Once you sign, we will turn off the ventilator and remove the tube,” the nurse instructed. The sound of a pen scratching against paper filled the quiet room. My mother’s hand was shaking, the pen clattering against the table. “Mrs. Lane, just sign. It’s better to end the pain quickly,” Nolan urged. I waited in the dark for the end. The beautiful dream of my wedding was gone, leaving me to face the harsh reality of my death. My mother leaned down, her tear-stained cheek pressing against mine. “Grace… I’m so sorry.” “In your next life, find a better mother. Don’t be my daughter again.” “I was too weak to protect you.” The pen moved. She signed her name. The steady line on the heart monitor began to waver, and a cold dread settled deep in my chest. 3 Nolan took the form and handed it to the doctor. “It’s signed. Thank you, doctor.” “Very well. The extubation process can sometimes cause involuntary spasms.” “The sight can be distressing for family members. If you wish, you may wait outside,” the doctor advised. “Nolan, why don’t you help the doctor prepare the equipment?” Gemma suggested. “I want to stay with my sister for a few more minutes, just to say goodbye.” Nolan placed a hand on her shoulder. “Alright. Don’t be too sad. I’ll be waiting just outside the door.” “Mrs. Lane, why don’t you come out and get some fresh air too?” “No! I want to stay with my Grace…” my mother wept. “Mom! Please go outside!” Gemma’s voice hardened, her tone leaving no room for argument. The weeping stopped. My mother had never dared to cross Gemma. As the footsteps retreated and the door clicked shut, only Gemma and I remained in the room. I heard the slide of the lock. Gemma climbed onto a chair, her heels clicking against the plastic as she reached up to switch off the security camera. A chill ran down my spine. What was she planning to do? She walked back to my bedside, a soft, malicious laugh escaping her lips. “Finally… it’s finally over, my dear sister.” She leaned down, her weight pressing heavily against my chest, making it difficult to breathe. She brought her lips close to my ear. “Do you want to know why I insisted on watching you die today?” “Because yesterday, the nurse called me. She said your finger had twitched.” “I couldn’t risk you waking up.” The heart monitor began to beep more rapidly, the lines spiking on the screen. Gemma reached out, her fingers pinching my jaw, pressing down with brutal force. “Save your energy. Even if you can hear me, what does it matter?” “In a few minutes, you’ll be nothing but a corpse.” She smiled, her voice a cruel whisper. “Grace, you must feel so betrayed.” “You took the fall for me.” “And yet, you still ended up with a fractured skull in prison, turned into this pathetic, half-dead creature.” My mind reeled. Did she arrange the attack in prison? “That’s right. Those three inmates? I paid them to take care of you.” “Our foolish mother kept talking about trying to get your sentence reduced. She wanted you out early.” “But you had to stay quiet. You had to remain a useless vegetable so Nolan would stay with me. The only stain on my past had to be buried forever,” Gemma laughed, her voice dripping with malice. She was completely insane. I fought with everything I had to move, to strike back, but my body remained a useless cage. This was the reward for sacrificing my future. This was the daughter my mother had risked everything to protect. “Oh, and as a parting gift, I’ll share one last secret with you.” Gemma’s fingers slid down to my throat, resting right over my carotid artery. “That rainy night, the car didn’t slide on the wet road.” “The old woman was blocking my path, muttering to herself. I was annoyed, so I just stepped on the gas.” “I had no idea she would fly so far,” Gemma said casually. It wasn’t an accident. It was murder. The monitor’s alarm began to shriek as my heart rate spiked to a dangerous hundred and forty. Pure, unadulterated fury and hatred flooded my veins. “Why is the door locked? Gemma! Open the door!” “The alarms are going off! The doctor says she’s fading!” my mother’s frantic voice called out, banging on the glass. Gemma stepped back, delivering a sharp slap to my face. “Go to hell, sister.” She walked to the door and unlocked it. The door was pushed open, and the doctor, nurses, Nolan, and my mother rushed inside. “Doctor! Look at the monitor! Why is her heart beating so fast?” “Is she getting better?” my mother cried, pointing at the screen. “It’s not an improvement. She suddenly started convulsing earlier. She must be in so much pain.” “Doctor, please, help her find peace!” Gemma sobbed, her face instantly shifting back into a mask of grief. The doctor checked the vitals. “This is just involuntary neural activity before death. We need to proceed with the extubation; otherwise, she will only suffer more.” The physical pain of death was nothing compared to the agony in my soul. 4 “Step back, please,” the nurse said, pushing my mother away. The doctor stepped to the head of the bed, his hand resting on the ventilator’s power switch. Another nurse picked up medical scissors, preparing to cut the tape holding the tube in place. “My sweet Grace!” Just as the doctor was about to flip the switch, my mother let out a desperate cry and threw herself forward, grabbing the nurse’s hand. A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. I thought she had finally realized the truth and was going to stop them. Even at the edge of death, I was still foolish enough to hope for her love. But her next words shattered that hope forever. She didn’t push the nurse away. Instead, she reached out and grasped the breathing tube herself. “Doctor… let me do it. I’m her mother… let me send her on her way.” Her warm tears fell onto my face, feeling colder than ice. “Grace, don’t hate me. I don’t want to let you go.” “But Gemma is getting married today. She can’t carry this burden into her new life…” “You want what’s best for your sister, too, don’t you? Just… help her one last time.” “Go in peace, my good child. I’ll be right here with you. Find a better home in your next life.” Help her one last time. Those words completely severed the remaining bond between us. What right did they have to decide my death? Gemma was a murderer. And Martha was her blind accomplice, ready to kill her own child to clear the way for a monster. Why should a murderer walk down the aisle while I was choked to death in a sterile room? I refused to accept this. If I was going down, I was going to drag both of them into the dark with me. The ventilator was switched off. The oxygen supply died, and a terrifying, suffocating panic gripped my body. But in that agony of suffocation, a surge of adrenaline flooded my system. My mother’s hand began to pull the tube from my throat. Gemma’s lips curved into a triumphant smile, and Nolan let out a sigh of relief. But in that exact second, my body convulsed violently. The eyes that had been sealed shut for three years snapped wide open. My bloodshot eyes stared straight up at the ceiling. “Ah!” The nurse let out a sharp scream, dropping her scissors onto the tile floor. The room went dead silent. “Grace…?” My mother froze, her hand still holding the tube. She began to tremble, her terror turning into a sudden, desperate hope. “A miracle… it’s a miracle! Doctor! My daughter is awake! She doesn’t want to die!” “She wants to live!” my mother sobbed, letting go of the tube and reaching out to hold me. But it was too late. I opened my dry, cracked lips, a raspy sound escaping my throat. Before her hand could touch my face, my arm shot up. I grabbed her wrist with terrifying strength, my fingernails digging deep into her skin. My mother gasped in pain, staring at me in shock. Near the door, the smile on Gemma’s face froze, replaced by pure terror. Nolan quickly stepped in front of her, shielding her. I didn’t look at either of them. My eyes remained locked on Martha. Looking at the tears and the sudden hope on her face, I felt a deep wave of revulsion. Ignoring the agony in my throat, I used my free hand to grab the breathing tube. Under the shocked gazes of everyone in the room, I ripped the tube from my own windpipe. A spray of dark blood splattered across my mother’s face and stained the pristine white skirt of Gemma’s wedding gown. “Grace! What are you doing? Are you mad?” My mother lunged forward to stop the bleeding, but I threw her hand off. The sudden rush of cold air into my damaged lungs sent a burning pain through my chest. I let out a harsh, wet laugh, spitting blood onto the sheets as I stared at her. My voice was a ragged whisper, but it cut through the room. “Mom… you wanted me to die so she could have her perfect wedding?” I turned my head slowly, my eyes sliding past Gemma to rest on Nolan’s face. “You don’t know the truth, do you?” “Nolan… the old woman Gemma ran down on that rainy night…” The room was completely silent, save for the sound of my ragged breathing. “That was your grandmother, the one who went missing ten years ago.”

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