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I was the Saintess of the Southern Wolf Clan, fostered in the Northern Wolf Clan since childhood and raised alongside the North’s heirs so that we could develop bonds with one another. Whichever heir became my mate would gain the South’s support. The Northern Alpha had even announced that whoever bonded with me would inherit the North and become the new Alpha. In my previous life, I chose Beacher, the man I had loved for years. I even used the South’s secret arts to help him successfully inherit the position. But after becoming Alpha, the first thing he did was order my limbs cut off. Then he summoned a witch to seal me alive inside a coffin with magic. Afterward, he ordered the slaughter of the South. Not one of my eighty thousand clansmen survived. “Who ever wanted to be Alpha?” Beacher snarled bitterly. “If you hadn’t shamelessly insisted on marrying me, Betsy and I would have been together long ago, living happily ever after!” “You made Betsy die with hatred in her heart. Now you’ll learn what it feels like to suffer while waiting for death!” After being reborn, I returned to the day I was meant to choose my mate. This time, I decided to let them have each other. Seven days later, the Alpha issued two announcements. One named my future mate. The other named the future Alpha. Neither had anything to do with Beacher. So why were his eyes red as he knelt before me, begging me to marry him? …… “Cheryl, take a careful look at my heirs. Which one do you like best? Which one would you choose as your future mate?” The Northern Alpha looked at me affectionately, his eyes filled with anticipation. The alliance through marriage between the Southern and Northern Wolf Clans had continued for a hundred years. In our generation, I was the only girl. Naturally, I had been raised in the Northern Wolf Clan from childhood alongside several of its heirs. The Alpha had always doted on me as well. But I knew perfectly well that his affection was not without ulterior motives. I represented more than myself. Behind me stood eighty thousand people of the South. Winning me meant winning the loyalty of all eighty thousand. That was why the Alpha had already announced that the mate I selected would become the next Alpha. The heirs whispered among themselves. “Everyone knows Saintess Cheryl loves Beacher. Today’s selection is nothing more than a formality.” “Beacher really is lucky. He’s neither the most handsome nor the most talented of the heirs, yet he somehow won Saintess Cheryl’s heart. Even the position of Alpha will fall straight into his lap.” “And despite that, Beacher walks around scowling every day as though Cheryl owes him something…” Everyone waited eagerly for me to say Beacher’s name. I glanced calmly in his direction. His face was expressionless, his gaze passing over the crowd to settle on Betsy below the platform. When he noticed me looking at him, he quickly looked away. A flash of disgust crossed his eyes. I laughed inwardly at myself. Beacher, if the power and prestige of becoming Alpha mean less to you than one woman, I won’t force you. This time, I simply won’t choose you. Smiling, I leaned toward the Alpha and whispered into his ear. His expression brightened. He nodded repeatedly before turning to glance at Beacher. Beacher’s face changed immediately. He pushed through the crowd and dropped heavily to his knees before the Alpha, bowing his head to the ground. “Alpha, I am willing to become Cheryl’s mate. However…” “I fell in love with Betsy at first sight, and I refuse to wrong her. If possible, after bonding with Cheryl, I hope I may also provide Betsy with a residence and allow her to…” “Enough of this nonsense!” Before Beacher could finish, the Alpha cut him off with a furious shout. His brows drew tightly together, his face reddening as his chest heaved with anger. “What status does Betsy possess that could possibly allow her to stand as Cheryl’s equal? You are an utter fool!” Beacher clenched his jaw as though reaching a momentous decision. “Betsy’s status may be lower than the Saintess’s, but that is precisely why I must protect her. If I cannot even defend the woman I love, how could I ever be worthy of becoming Alpha?” At his declaration, disappointment filled the Alpha’s face. The onlookers sighed one after another. “We thought Beacher was merely mediocre. Who knew he was also incapable of understanding what truly matters? Does the loyalty of eighty thousand Southern wolves and the position of Alpha sitting within his grasp really mean less to him than an ordinary woman?” “He must be certain Saintess Cheryl will marry no one but him. Otherwise, he would never dare make such an outrageous demand.” The Alpha sighed deeply and asked one final time, “Beacher, are you determined to marry Betsy?” Beacher slowly nodded. “Please grant us your blessing, Father.” Seeing that he refused to reconsider, the Alpha gave me an apologetic look. He then waved helplessly and announced in a grave voice, “Everyone may leave. The bonding ceremony will take place in seven days. Make your preparations.”

Beacher took the Alpha’s reaction as approval and immediately ran to the tearful Betsy. “Betsy, did you hear that? The Alpha didn’t object!” “In seven days, we’ll be together forever!” Tears in her eyes, Betsy nodded repeatedly. When she saw me passing beside Beacher, her smile instantly disappeared, and she timidly moved to bow to me. Before I could speak, Beacher pulled her upright protectively. “Cheryl, if you’re unhappy, take it out on me. Don’t treat Betsy coldly!” “Although you chose me, the Alpha just agreed that she could remain by my side with you. From now on, you’ll be my mate in name, while she’ll be the mate in my heart. You two must get along. Only then can I focus on being a good Alpha.” I blinked at him in confusion. I had not done anything. When had I treated her coldly? Besides, had he misunderstood something? The Alpha had only said that a bonding ceremony would take place in seven days. He had never said Beacher was the mate I had chosen. Seeing Beacher openly defend her, Betsy shyly tugged at his sleeve and advised him gently, “Beacher, as long as I can remain with you, I’m willing to follow you for the rest of my life without any title or recognition. Please don’t argue with the Saintess because of me…” Beacher gazed at her with tenderness and affection. “Silly girl. A witch once foretold that I would successfully inherit the position. Once I become Alpha, I’ll naturally be the most powerful person in the entire clan. Why would I need to submit to a woman like her?” He glanced at me, his expression filled with warning. “Cheryl, you had better behave yourself. If you remain obedient and sensible, I may still be willing to have a child with you in the future. Otherwise…” The threat in his words could not have been clearer. In my previous life, after Beacher and I bonded, Betsy accidentally fell into the water. Although she was rescued, she constantly yearned for Beacher. Her health gradually deteriorated, and within a few years, she died consumed by misery. Her death had nothing to do with me, yet Beacher stubbornly blamed me. “She fell into the water barely thirty feet from your residence. If you hadn’t deliberately pretended not to hear her and delayed the rescue, how could Betsy have died so young?” He blamed me for Betsy’s death and tortured me until I died. He even took his anger out on the South, turning all eighty thousand of my clansmen into restless souls. Yet this creature, incapable of distinguishing right from wrong, remained confident that he would become Alpha. It was laughable. Suppressing my murderous rage, I interrupted him. “Your devotion to Betsy is truly touching, Beacher. Allow me to congratulate you in advance. May you grow old together and have children soon.” Beacher looked me up and down in surprise, attempting to find evidence that I did not mean what I said. Before he could determine anything, I walked past him without hesitation and smiled at the man patiently waiting nearby. “I’ll be waiting for you in seven days.” “You won’t break your promise, will you?” The man smiled without speaking and gave me a solemn nod before leaving with the others. He had said nothing, but merely seeing his broad, powerful back was enough to make me feel safe. In my previous life, as Beacher nailed me inside the coffin and left me waiting helplessly for death, I vaguely heard the sound of fighting through my fading consciousness. It was Hubery, who had rushed back to save me. He screamed my name in anguish and risked his life trying to free me, only for Beacher to order his men to shoot him through with countless arrows. His burning blood seeped through the cracks in the coffin and dripped onto my face. It also fell upon my heart. Only then did I realize how deeply and silently he had loved me all those years. Beacher followed suspiciously. “Cheryl, what does it matter whether Hubery attends when we bond in seven days? When did the two of you become acquainted?”

Betsy’s eyes shifted before she rushed to answer on my behalf. “Beacher, Hubery is handsome, and he and the Saintess also grew up together. It’s perfectly natural for them to be close…” Beacher snorted coldly. “No matter how close they are, she must maintain an appropriate distance and remember proper boundaries. She shouldn’t behave like some shameless girl who seduces every man she sees!” I had endured enough of their insinuations and raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t you and Betsy been seducing each other for quite some time?” Betsy’s face instantly turned white. Beacher glared fiercely at me before immediately lowering his head to comfort her. The corner of my mouth lifted as I quickly walked away. When I returned home and saw the traces of Beacher filling every room, hatred surged within me. When we first met, he gave me a sprig of plum blossoms. Unable to bear throwing it away, I pressed it between the pages of a book and treasured it dearly. Yet not long after meeting Betsy, he gave her a priceless flower-petal-shaped gemstone. The painful contrast instantly made me realize who truly held his heart. I personally gathered everything connected to him. By the time I finished, I was so exhausted that I collapsed heavily onto my bed. Scenes from the final moments of my previous life haunted my dreams with terrifying clarity. When I woke again, three full days had passed. “Saintess, you’re finally awake! Who exactly did you choose as your mate? Why is everyone outside saying you and Betsy are both going to marry Beacher?” “You’ve been asleep these past few days, so you don’t know how wonderfully Beacher has been treating Betsy. Not only did he dig a lotus pond for her at his home, but he personally transplanted the lotuses beloved by the old Luna for Betsy…” “Betsy dislikes sweet food, so Beacher ordered that no desserts may be served wherever she is present…” “He even brought an entire wagon of expensive fabric from another clan to make new clothes for Betsy!” I suppressed the ache in my heart and forced a smile. My maid Amy looked at me in exasperation. “Saintess, how can you still smile at a time like this?” “Beacher treats Betsy like a priceless treasure. If you bond with him, won’t you only be making yourself miserable?” “That’s enough. Don’t worry. I didn’t choose him.” I smiled reassuringly at her, only for Beacher to push open the door just in time to hear me. Surprise flashed through his eyes before he gave a contemptuous laugh. “Cheryl, you’re jealous after seeing how well I treat Betsy, so you’re deliberately saying that to upset me!” I silently rolled my eyes. How had I never noticed before how shameless Beacher was? When I said nothing, he strode inside. “I came today to inform you that I moved half the treasures you brought from the South to Betsy’s home. You owe her that compensation…” My head snapped up, and I stared at him in disbelief. “Beacher! Those things were given to me by my father. They’ve been with me for more than ten years. What gives you the right to take them and give them to someone else?” I had left my home at a young age. Because my father worried about me, he carefully selected dozens of chests filled with precious jewelry and everything I loved for me to bring along. Those belongings carried all his love and longing for me. “I was merely giving you an opportunity to show goodwill toward Betsy. After all, once you marry me, you’ll need to get along with her!” Beacher spoke as though his actions were entirely justified. His shamelessness left me stunned. “We won’t take your belongings without giving anything in return. On our wedding night, I’ll enter your room and preserve your dignity as Saintess. However, I promised Betsy I would never touch you…” “So once midnight passes, I’ll go to Betsy’s room!” Beacher looked arrogant, as though he were granting me an enormous favor. I laughed coldly and met his gaze. “Beacher, return my belongings. I never said I would become your mate.”

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I had a dream. In it, I stood at the altar in a white gown, Noah gently holding my hand, his forehead resting against mine. He was my Alpha, my husband by the laws of the pack, and the only one I thought would stay. “Sadie,” he whispered, “once you’re carrying our pup, I’ll announce to the world that marrying you was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me.” Back then, I believed him. I was just a low-born Omega, but I dared to think I was enough for the most powerful Alpha of the North. Until the day that dream shattered like fragile glass. “I want a divorce.” That’s what Noah Greaves, Alpha heir to the Greaves bloodline, told me—calmly, clinically—across his office desk. I clutched a folded ultrasound report in my coat pocket. I had just come from the healer’s hut. Six weeks along. Our pup, finally. “What… did you say?” “I said,” he repeated, adjusting his silver cufflinks, “we should get a divorce. This arrangement has run its course.” My mind went blank. “I’m pregnant,” I blurted out. “Six weeks. I had the scan this morning.” For a moment, just a flicker, something cracked in his expression. But it vanished as quickly as it came. “Then get rid of it.” The words didn’t register at first. “You—what?” Noah stood, towering above me with the cold control of a born Alpha. His pheromones hummed through the air like frostbite. “Don’t try to trap me, Sadie. We both know this marriage was a transaction. Don’t make this messier than it needs to be.” “We’ve been married for two years. You said—” “I said what I had to,” he snapped. “To shut my mother up. To keep the Council quiet. But I never said I loved you.” He stepped closer. “And I never said I wanted your pup.” Before I could process anything, the office door opened. Aria Linford walked in—the very picture of a gentle, elegant Omega. Pale blue dress, soft curls, and a face I had seen too many times in Noah’s old photographs. His ex. His “true mate.” Her voice was soft. “You two are still fighting?” I could barely breathe. “Why are you here?” Aria cast her gaze down. “I never wanted to come between you. But you two… it’s not working. And I can’t keep pretending we weren’t meant to be.” “I’m carrying his child!” I screamed, shoving the ultrasound into her hands. She glanced at it, then smiled faintly. “Are you sure it’s his?” My hand struck her across the face before I even realized it. Noah shoved me back, fury lighting his eyes. “Have you lost your mind?!” He shielded Aria with his body. That was the moment I knew. It was over. I ran through the rain, cradling my belly like it was the last real thing I had left. I didn’t even feel the cold. But fate hadn’t finished with me yet. The alley was dark. The blow came fast. I collapsed against the stone, the pain in my abdomen sharp, searing. I was bleeding. “No…” I gasped, fingers trembling as I pulled out my phone. I called him. One ring. Two. No answer. I tried again. This time, someone picked up. “Noah—please—I’m bleeding. Our baby—save us—” Silence. Then a woman’s voice, soft and sweet as poison: “Sadie, you poor thing. I hope next time you stay dead.” It was Aria. I woke seven days later in a place I didn’t recognize. “She’s stabilizing,” a voice said. Calm. Female. “Stronger than I thought,” said another—deeper, male. I opened my eyes. A woman in a white cloak leaned over me. Her badge bore a silver vine sigil. “You’re safe now,” she said gently. “I’m Rima Solas. Omega. High-ranking tribal healer.” I blinked. “Where—my baby—” Rima nodded. “Still with you. Still fighting. It was your pup’s spiritual surge that saved you. You both would’ve died otherwise.” My throat closed up. “He’s… awake?” “More than that,” she said. “He stabilized your entire nervous system in utero. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She handed me a spiritual resonance chart. Twin pulses—one mine, one glowing in silver and gold. “Your child carries the Silvertail bloodline,” she said softly. “The mark of the Moon’s heir.” That’s when another figure stepped into the tent. He was tall, cloaked in silver and black, long white hair framing a face full of gravity. “Alric Nyven,” he said. “Delta. Elder Council Executor.” My skin crawled. “We’re not here to hurt you, Sadie,” he said. “We’re here for your child.” I stared. “Why?” “You are a descendant of the Silvertail line—wolves once chosen by Lunara herself. Your child… may be the first Spiritborne in centuries.” My blood turned to ice. “So the attack…” “Yes.” Alric’s eyes darkened. “They knew.” I looked down at my belly. So did Noah. And he still chose to leave me to die. That was the moment I stopped waiting to be saved. I’d already died once for love. Now I’d rise—for war.

I once thought the worst kind of pain was watching someone you love walk away. But no—true pain is knowing they let you die, even when they knew you were carrying their child. It’s been ten days since I woke up in the Moonscar Tribe’s healing tent. This place was far from the northern capitals, a neutral sanctuary under the Elder Council’s quiet protection—built to shelter Omegas and Alphas suffering from pheromonal instability or violent awakenings. I had no title. No resources. No family. Worst of all, my name had been deleted from the Greaves family registry. In wolf society, that meant I was no longer a recognized citizen. I had become a ghost. “You must learn to control your spiritual pheromones, Sadie.” Rima Solas, Omega, chief tribal healer, stood by my side. Her scent was clean—grasses, herbs, and quiet steadiness. I bit down hard, trying not to cry out. Since my rescue, my spiritual energy had gone feral. With my pregnancy and partial awakening, every night brought pain and hallucinations. I saw Noah’s face. Heard him say, “Get rid of it.” Heard Aria’s voice over the phone, whispering, “You really are that stupid, Sadie.” I wanted to scream—but all I could do was choke on silence. “Your child is reversing the energy flow, protecting your core,” Rima said. “It’s causing an unnatural spike in spiritual bond fusion. Even your body can’t handle this.” “So I’ll die?” “No,” she replied quietly. “You’ll awaken. Or lose control completely.” I leaned back against the cot and gave a bitter laugh. “Sounds lovely.” “Unless,” she said, “you agree to undergo a guided lunar imprint ceremony.” My eyes snapped to hers. “The Moon Imprint?” She nodded. “The Silvertail mark within you has already begun to surface. If you don’t let the Moon’s will guide you, your system will continue to break down.” I was silent. I was an Omega. I didn’t want to depend on any Alpha—not even the Moon goddess. But I had a child now. And I couldn’t afford to die. “I’ll do it,” I said. Three days later, Alric Nyven returned. He was a Delta—one of the Elder Council’s top arbiters. He possessed rare empathic pheromone powers, capable of calming near-feral Alphas with a word. He was here today for me—an Omega branded unfit for recognition. “Your registration has been terminated,” he said plainly. “By pack law, an unbonded Omega must undergo spiritual testing and, if passed, submit to re-bonding with a qualified Alpha.” “I won’t bond with anyone,” I said coldly. He looked at me for a long moment. “Then you must survive the Moon Imprint Trial.” “I’ll take it.” “Even though the survival rate is below twenty percent?” I smiled, cold and sharp. “I’ve already died once. What more is there to lose?” That night, beneath a violet moon, I stood on the mountaintop in ceremonial robes, holding a dagger of lunar silver. The tribe circled around in solemn formation. Rima stood behind me, weaving energy runes into the ground. Alric carved ancient glyphs in the snow. A projection of Lunara, the Moon Goddess, flickered into existence above the circle. “Sadie Hale,” her voice echoed, “do you wish to sever your bond with your former Alpha, and walk freely as your own?” “I do.” I raised the dagger and slashed across the inner line of my wrist. Pain. Real, raw, soul-crushing pain. The severing. It wasn’t just physical. It was mental annihilation. I heard the psychic bonds snap inside my brain, each one screaming as it unraveled. I saw Noah’s imprint—the signature of his pheromones—ignite like paper and vanish. I collapsed, soaked in blood, but even then, I heard it. A whisper. “You did well, Sadie.” Lunara’s voice. The voice of the moon. “You are no longer his. You are your own.” When I awoke, Rima was weeping softly. “You’re the first to survive a bond severing during pregnancy. And the only one to awaken after.” I looked down. The silver crescent now pulsed on my wrist—a mark of an Awakened. Sadie Hale, for the first time, belonged to no one. A few days later, I saw Riven Cross. Once a Beta, now an honorary Alpha and commander of the Redwing Guard. He stood tall, armored in silver and red, battle-scarred and composed. He had once been my upperclassman—the boy who gave me orange juice at the Greaves banquet, when I was too nervous to speak. “You’re here,” I rasped. He smiled faintly. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.” “I’m not the same person anymore.” “You never should’ve been the person they forced you to be,” he said softly. “This you… is finally someone they can’t ignore.” That night, beneath the moon, I pressed my palm against my belly. The child within stirred gently. “We’ll finish this,” I whispered. “Together.” Not for revenge. But because I would never bow again.

They say the deadliest thing in a wolf pack isn’t fangs—it’s deception. Noah Greaves had always been good at hiding things. He could smile and walk Aria down the red carpet for the cameras, while I lay in a pool of blood, phone call unanswered, and post a memorial for me the next day. “May the deceased rest in peace. You deserved better in your next life.” —@NoahGreaves The comments section went wild. “You’re too kind.” “Let’s hope she won’t disturb you and Aria anymore.” “Finally, you and Aria are official!” Meanwhile, I was in the Southern Moonscar Tribe’s valley, piecing my shattered soul together after severing my Alpha bond. “They buried me well,” I muttered, scrolling through trending topics. [#HeirOfGreavesEngagedAgain] [#FormerOmegaWifeMissing] [#BabyScandal: Sadie Was Never Pregnant?] The last one was posted by Kara Venn, a Beta, Aria’s best friend, and now self-proclaimed “Chief Organizer of the Engagement Committee.” She even released a falsified DNA report claiming my child didn’t belong to Noah. I clenched my jaw and closed the screen. My son Caelum—barely six weeks inside me—had already been judged and condemned by the world. “You really want to go public?” Rima Solas, the healer, stood by the window, looking concerned. “I have to,” I said. “But your awakening isn’t complete. Your spiritual core is unstable.” “Exactly,” I smiled coldly. “Let them see that I’m no longer the docile, obedient ‘contract mate.’” “What are you planning?” “A broadcast.” That night, I stood atop the Moon Shrine, dressed in the tribe’s white ceremonial robe, and activated the live stream. Over eight million viewers flooded in within minutes. 【Wasn’t she dead?!】 【What is this—some rural ritual cosplay?】 【Wait… if she’s alive, what does that say about Noah?】 I stared into the lens, voice cool and sharp: “My name is Sadie Hale, Omega. I’m the one you called missing, unstable, or dead.” “I didn’t die. And I’m not insane.” “I was betrayed.” Two minutes in, the tide began to turn. 【She’s pale. Looks desperate.】 【She’s lying for sympathy. Noah’s a good guy.】 【Wait, is that a healing sigil on her belly?!】 I calmly lifted the protective charm from my abdomen, revealing the glowing symbols and a stabilizing fetal rune. “I’m alive because I had to protect my child.” “You said he wasn’t Noah’s? Then explain this spiritual resonance report—authorized and verified by the Elder Council.” I displayed the documents in full. The stream glitched for several seconds. Several major accounts disappeared from the viewership list. In the North, chaos exploded. Noah went from “beloved Alpha fiancé” to “predatory scumbag,” Aria was labeled “homewrecker moonlight,” and Kara got every one of her platforms banned. They hadn’t expected me to fight back—certainly not like this. But most of all, they hadn’t expected me to survive. Three days later, a formal request arrived from House Greaves. “They’re asking for mediation,” Rima said grimly at the council meeting. “Claiming you’re mentally unstable and must be ‘re-admitted’ into treatment.” I laughed. “Then let’s show them how unstable I can be.” That night, I sat in my meditation chamber when my head split with agony. An unauthorized psychic connection tore through my mental barriers. “Alpha imprint detected—attempting reconnection.” “Noah,” I hissed. He was forcing a bond reactivation—trying to awaken old subservience buried in my Omega core. “Don’t you dare…” I gasped, sweat pouring down my face. A sudden surge exploded from within me—my child’s energy fused with mine, awakening something deeper. A flash of silver. I unleashed my spiritual energy with a scream— Boom. The chamber shook. Devices cracked. Rima and several Deltas rushed in. “She’s countering it!” Rima shouted. “But the overload—” “I said, don’t touch me!” I roared. When I opened my eyes, the link had been burned away. Alric arrived shortly after, his expression unreadable. “Sadie Hale,” he said, “as of this moment, you are officially recognized as a Silvertail Awakened—provisional heir.” I looked at my hand, the silver lines glowing faintly. I wasn’t a victim anymore. I was a threat. And then Riven brought news. “There’s a Lunar Bonding Ceremony next week. The Council wants you to attend.” My brows furrowed. “That’s an Alpha-Omega pairing ritual.” “Yes,” Riven replied. “But this time, you’re the ‘exception.’” “…What does that mean?” He hesitated. “Noah will be there.” I turned toward the distant sky, moonlight slicing across my face. Fine. If he wants to see me again— Then I’ll show him exactly what he lost.

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Raina Monroe got her hearing back. The first thing she did was try to tell her fiancé, Brandon Thorne. She rushed to his office, heart pounding, already picturing the look on his face. She’d even picked out the restaurant for their celebration. She stopped outside his door. Brandon was talking to a group of friends. He didn’t know she was standing there. He didn’t know she could hear. “I banged some chick behind my fiancée’s back,” he said. “I’m taking her to a hotel today.” “My fiancée’s deaf. I could flirt with the girl right in front of her and she’d never know.” The words drilled into Raina’s skull. Her mind blanked. Her blood stopped moving. The office erupted. Whistles. Shouts. Some guy slammed the table. “Brandon, you’ve got some serious balls, man.” Another one laughed. “Brother, you’re playing with fire.” Brandon leaned back in his chair, drink in hand, a smirk cutting across his face. He lifted his glass for a toast. Then he caught a figure in the doorway. Raina. His face dropped. But the panic vanished fast. She couldn’t hear. He set down the glass, walked over, and said, “Why’d you come here alone? I was supposed to pick you up for the dress fitting. You didn’t even text me back.” His hands moved with the words. “I thought something happened to you. I was so worried.” The worry on his face looked real. She remembered being eighteen. Brandon fell for her at first sight. He chased her for two solid years. Flowers. Bags. Cash. Jewelry. He checked in every day. Every holiday, every birthday, he found a new way to surprise her. When her adoptive parents died, he never left her side. He held her through it, fed her, soothed her, walked her through the darkest stretch of her life. She finally said yes after his hundredth confession. Three years ago, she took a hit for him. The injury destroyed her auditory nerves. She couldn’t hear anymore. She was devastated. She tried to end things. More than once. Brandon refused. He held her, begged her not to leave him, begged her to stay. He learned sign language. When the silence crushed her, he was there. The Thorne family fought the relationship. His father threatened to disown him publicly, cut him off from every network that mattered. Brandon didn’t blink. He walked into the boardroom, slapped a trust fund waiver onto the table in front of his father, and said, “Fine. Keep the money. But you accept her.” The standoff lasted months. They froze his cards. Took his car. Took his apartment. At the lowest point, he was crashing in a freezing studio with no heat near the office, living on whatever his friends spotted him, taking the subway to work. Raina cried and begged him to stop. He just held her and said, “Without you, the money means nothing.” His father finally broke. Raina sobbed in his arms. “Why are you so stupid?” Brandon wiped her tears, gentle, and signed the words: I love you. The proposal was a spectacle. A mansion. A garden packed with her favorite pink peonies. The ring was Eternal Light, a diamond that had once belonged to European royalty. Priceless. He got down on one knee. The ruthless businessman who cut throats in the boardroom was trembling. His eyes were wet. He was terrified she’d say no. When she said yes, he jumped up. This man who never cried broke down completely. He held her for so long, wouldn’t let go, like a kid who’d finally gotten the one toy he wanted most. The day after the proposal, someone knocked into her on the street. She hit her head. Her hearing came back. After a full checkup, the doctors confirmed it. She could hear again. Raina was overjoyed. She thought a life with Brandon’s love was already more than she deserved. And now this. But when she went to tell him the good news, she learned about the other woman. No wonder. A month ago, the late nights started. He said work was crazy. His real work was between another woman’s legs. He’d promised he would never betray her. A few short years, and his heart had already wandered. She dug her nails into her palm and forced herself out of the daze. The truth was there. A crack in everything. He had changed. She pulled herself back. Brandon was still signing. “Couldn’t wait to see the dresses, could you? So you came without me?” After the engagement, he’d been obsessed with building their life. Their wedding was a month away. His dream. Raina knew there would be no wedding. The second she learned about his betrayal, she decided she was leaving.

She wasn’t about to let him know she could hear. She gave a small nod. Relief washed over Brandon’s face. He knew she was deaf. But those jackass friends of his were still in the office, and he didn’t want them running their mouths. He took her hand and led her out. He signed as they walked. “Come on. Let’s go look at those dresses.” At the curb, a Mercedes S-Class was waiting. He reached for the passenger door. Someone was already in her seat. A girl. Gorgeous. Sharp, bright features. Raina knew her. Serafina Vance. She’d met Brandon in college. She’d just gotten back from overseas. Brandon froze. He’d made plans with Serafina for tonight. The hotel. He’d figured she’d show up later. Not this early. He forced his face neutral and signed to Raina, “Fina’s on her way to the bridal shop too. We’ll give her a ride.” “She’s getting engaged too?” Raina signed back. Before Brandon could speak, Serafina nodded, her gaze sliding over to him. “That’s right. I’m getting engaged too.” Brandon’s expression twitched. He checked his watch, casual. “We should get going. The appointment.” Then, like he’d just remembered, he pointed at Serafina and signed to Raina, careful, almost timid. “Fina gets carsick. She’ll sit up front. Is that okay?” Raina remembered the rule. The passenger seat was hers. Only hers. He’d kicked out anyone who tried to sit there. She wasn’t his exception anymore. She shrugged and climbed into the back. The car pulled away. The two up front knew she couldn’t hear. They laughed and chatted like she wasn’t there. “Brandon, that couple’s meal at Moonlight last night was incredible. It’s a little far, though. You’re taking me again.” Serafina’s voice dripped sweetness. She flicked a glance at Raina in the rearview mirror. “Anything you want. I’ll drive however far you like.” He smiled at her, one hand on the wheel. “I knew it. You spoil me rotten.” Serafina beamed. A spoiled little girl who always got her way. Before, Raina would’ve thought it was innocent small talk. Now she heard every word. They were flirting in front of her. Brazen. Shameless. Believing she was completely in the dark. Every syllable churned her stomach. Moonlight. The trendy new couple’s restaurant in the city. She’d asked to go two weeks ago. He’d said he was swamped. Another time. He never mentioned it again. Too busy for her. But he had plenty of time for his little plaything. The man who used to share every meal with her now always had a client who couldn’t get free. His client had a name. And a body. Wind came through the window. It scraped against her nerves. An hour later, they stopped at a bridal shop. Inside, the staff had lined up a hundred gowns. The latest couture. Brandon’s eyes went soft, adoring. He signed, “Which designer do you like? I’ll fly them in from Paris. Custom.” “Raina, I’m giving you the most beautiful dress in the world. You’ll be the most beautiful bride.” The staff swooned. “Raina is so lucky. We see so many couples, but Mr. Thorne is the only one who always knows exactly what she wants. The styles. The sizes.” Seven years together. He knew everything about her. Her measurements. Her cycle. He remembered it better than she did. The world saw a perfect romance. She knew it was rotting from the inside. She was barely interested. She pointed at a fishtail gown and stepped into the fitting room. She stared at her reflection. After losing her adoptive parents, her deepest wish was to build a family with him. A home. A happy one. She’d dreamed of putting on a white dress, holy and pure, and marrying him. Now the thought gutted her. She was about to step out when voices drifted in. “Brandon, you tore the last one. I bought a new set. Black lace. Your favorite. Tonight. Eight. My place.” Serafina’s voice was low. Her fingers traced up his chest. “Raina’s in there. Not here.” “What are you scared of? The staff’s gone. And her?” She dragged out the pause, rising onto her toes, mouth close to his ear. “She can’t hear. Unless… you don’t want it anymore?” He laughed under his breath. A kiss. Soft. On her lips. “You’re nothing but trouble. But my favorite look on you is nothing at all.” “God, you’re terrible.” Low laughter. Murmured filth. Raina felt the bile rise. They’d been doing this in front of her the whole time. How many times? And she’d been too oblivious to notice. A fool. She couldn’t stay in that room another second. She tore off the gown and walked out. Her face was pale. Brandon stood immediately, worry carved into his face. He stepped toward her, signing fast. “Raina? What’s wrong? Is it your stomach again? Let me take you home.”

He scooped her up and walked out. Serafina called his name behind them. He didn’t look back. At the villa, he found her medicine. He made her a bowl of hot soup. She watched him rush around, and the weight of it pressed against her chest. He used to be the rich young master who’d never lifted a finger. She came into his life, and he stepped off his pedestal. He washed her clothes, cooked her meals, handled everything in the house. When she lost her hearing, he learned to sign. Just to speak to her. His friends always laughed at him. Whipped. Tamed. He didn’t care. He wore it like a badge of honor. His woman deserved to be cherished. It made him proud. After the stomach problems started, he researched every bland recipe he could find. He didn’t trust the housekeeper. He cooked all three meals himself. He swore he’d nurse her back to health. He had loved her that deeply. Down to the marrow. And now he was cheating behind her back. Her chest ached. His love, it turned out, could change in a heartbeat. She ate, then slept. When she woke, it was nearly eight. Brandon was still at her side. Waiting. He saw her eyes open and immediately brought her a glass of warm water. He held it to her lips. His phone rang. “Fina, relax. I’m heading out. Be a good girl and stay just like that for me.” He turned his back. His voice had that edge of anticipation. Raina’s heart pinched. She didn’t want to count how many times he’d played this part. The doting boyfriend one second. The eager plaything the next. Who mattered more to him? She wanted to know. She caught his sleeve. “Brandon, stay with me tonight. Please?” He smiled. Doting. He stroked her hair and signed, “Baby, be good. Something urgent came up at work. The client really needs me there. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done. Text me if you need anything.” He put on his coat and left. Cold sank through her. There was a time when one word from her would make him drop everything. He’d walk away from a major deal just to be with her. Now he’d dump her for another woman without a second thought. Fine. She was done with him. She found the number she hadn’t called in a long time. Her birth parents. She dialed. When the call ended, she opened her laptop. She studied maps of Europe, getting familiar with the place she’d soon call home. Her phone rang. Brandon. She stared at it. He hadn’t called her since she went deaf. He always texted. She picked up. A moan spilled through the speaker. Breathy. Explicit. “Brandon, who makes you feel better? Me or her?” Serafina’s voice. Sugary. “You. Obviously.” Brandon’s voice was thick with pleasure. No hesitation. “I knew it. Didn’t you say it yourself? She’s a dead fish in bed. Zero fun.” “You’re the only one for me. We fit.” “You insatiable little demon.” “Why do you keep bringing her up tonight—wait. Did you call Raina?!” His voice spiked. Panic. Anger. “She can’t hear. This just makes it hotter, don’t you think?” The line died. Raina’s fingers whitened around the phone. She was under the blankets, but her body had never been so cold. It was almost funny. The injury she’d taken for him had become their foreplay. Brandon came home the next morning. He leaned in for his usual good-morning kiss. She turned away, smooth. The thought of his mouth on another woman last night sent a wave of nausea through her. He blinked. “You didn’t change your clothes. You smell.” She wrinkled her nose. Sex and strong perfume. It made her stomach turn. He caught himself and signed, “Late night at the office. I fell asleep at my desk. Must’ve bumped your number by accident.” Lying. About last night. She didn’t care anymore. She was leaving. No point in calling him out. At the table, he’d bought her favorite. Crab eggs benedict. She had no appetite. The place was in the opposite direction from his office. But it was right near Serafina’s apartment. She’d seen Serafina’s Instagram this morning. A photo of the same dish. The caption: “He said he’d wait two hours for me. Anything I want.” Brandon had liked it. People in the comments asked if the guy was her boyfriend. She’d replied with a coy little emoji. One photo showed a man’s hand feeding her. His face wasn’t in the frame. But his fingers were long, a crescent-shaped scar on one of them. Exactly like Brandon’s. He’d gotten it learning to cook for Raina. A burn. “Not hungry? What do you want? I’ll make it right now.” “At least have some milk. It’ll settle your stomach.” He saw she wasn’t eating and went to warm a glass for her. “I’m not hungry. I’m going to the studio.” She brushed him off and called a car. She’d loved to draw since she was a kid. After college, she opened her own art studio. By noon, the last painting was done. She was leaving soon. The studio needed to go. She pulled up a real estate agent’s contact and sent a voice message. “I need to transfer my lease. I’m looking to sell the space. Before the end of the month.” Footsteps. She looked up. Brandon stood in the doorway, brow furrowed. “Transfer? Why would you transfer it?”

He remembered she couldn’t hear. He signed the question again. She answered without looking at him. “I’m relocating. So the space has to go.” His face relaxed. The doting smile returned. “About time. With your talent, you should be in a bigger space. Just focus on your art. I’ll find you the best location in LA. A huge studio. Don’t stress about the little stuff.” She didn’t answer. She was relocating. But not in LA. She was leaving the country. “Why are you here?” she signed. He hadn’t come to the studio since Serafina got back. “You mentioned that couple’s restaurant. I’ve got a free afternoon. Thought I’d take you.” He was all tenderness. He reached for her hand. She pulled away, smooth, and straightened her supplies. She wanted to say no. But her stomach was empty. She nodded. They sat down. A waiter hurried over, all smiles. “Mr. Thorne! The usual for you and your girlfriend? The ribeye and the red? We just got the freshest shipment flown in.” Brandon’s hand froze. Guilt flashed across his face. He glanced at Raina. She was still looking at the menu. She didn’t seem to notice. He relaxed. He ordered efficiently, choosing all her favorites. He made sure the waiter knew the steak had to be medium rare. The way she liked it. The waiter knew him too well. They’d been here more than once. While they waited, she didn’t want to talk. She excused herself to the restroom. When she came back, a server was holding a bottle of red wine. “Mr. Thorne, to celebrate you and your girlfriend becoming our VIPs, this is on the house. Enjoy your meal.” Brandon’s gaze cut past the server. Raina stood there, face blank. He knew she couldn’t hear. But his heart still jumped. He forced himself calm and waved the server away. Raina sat down. She glanced at the wine. “I don’t like red. And you’re driving. Why’d you order this?” He pulled a smile together and signed, “I didn’t. It’s a gift from the restaurant.” She made a cool, small sound and said nothing else. All those nights he’d said he was with clients. He’d been taking Serafina to dinner. The food arrived. He cut her steak into small pieces. He put them in front of her. He filled her plate, kept asking if everything was good, anxious she might not enjoy it. She gave him a few flat responses. He watched her carefully. She used to photograph every dish. She’d take selfies with him and post them on Instagram. Now she just ate, her face unreadable. An unease crept into his chest. “The food not good?” he signed. She shook her head. “It’s fine.” The food was fine. The company killed her appetite.

She finished fast and said she was going home. In the car, she stared out the window. His phone rang. He glanced at it and hit decline. The caller didn’t give up. Three more declines. Then he answered. Serafina’s syrupy voice filled the car. “Brandon, I’m at your office. Come find me.” He lowered his voice, even though he thought Raina couldn’t hear. “What are you doing at my office?” “The bedroom, the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room, the car… you said you wanted to try the office. I’m here to make your wish come true. I’ve got on that tight little dress you love. And the set you like best. You’ve got thirty minutes. Otherwise I might have to find someone else…” Her voice was pure provocation. Brandon’s expression shifted. His eyes darkened. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “You wouldn’t dare. You’re mine, you little wildcat. Stay right there. I’m coming to deal with you.” In all their years together, he’d been gentle with Raina in bed. Always careful. Always putting her comfort first. She’d never known he was chasing something like this. He hung up. He pulled to the side of the road and signed, “Baby, I’m so sorry. Work emergency. I need to get back right now. Can you grab a cab here?” His face was all apology. He didn’t notice her fists. This was the highway. It was nearly impossible to get a car. He was dumping her here for another woman. She looked at him, calm. “Actually, I have something to do near your office. Let’s ride together.” He blinked. Panic stirred in his eyes. But he kept driving. When they pulled up to his building, she said, “It’s been a while since I came up. I’ll take a look around today.” His face went pale. His signing turned sloppy. “I’m about to be really swamped. I probably can’t give you a tour. Let’s do it another day. I’ll take you around myself.” She smiled. “I’ll just wander. You do your thing.” He couldn’t find a way out. He walked her up. Every step, his face was tight with anxiety. His eyes darted. They reached his office door. He opened it. A small, curvy figure launched herself at him. “Brandon! I’ve been waiting forever. I missed you so much!” He shoved her off. His face went white, then red. Serafina’s pout melted when she saw Raina. Irritation flickered across her face. “Brandon, why’d you bring her? I got all ready. What a waste.” “Not now. Let me send her off. Be good. Don’t make a scene. I’ll make it up to you later.” Raina tilted her head. “What are you two talking about?” He turned to her fast, signing. “She was just passing by. Said it’s been a while, wanted to say hi. You know how she is. She just got back from abroad. Very huggy. That greeting didn’t mean anything.”

Raina knew exactly how huggy Serafina could get. She’d been there at the airport when they picked her up. Serafina had wrapped herself around him, hugging, kissing, calling it European etiquette. It felt off. But she let it go. Until the group dinners started. The touches went past friendly. Serafina drank from his glass. She ate off his plate. Her hands were always on him. She pressed against him at every chance. Brandon used to keep a careful distance. He had boundaries. So Raina never questioned their relationship. She hadn’t known they’d already been sleeping together behind her back. Her face stayed smooth. She nodded. “I’ll head out, then.” He escorted her down, all attentiveness, and got her a car. She climbed in. In the rearview mirror, she watched him spin around and rush back into the building. A dry smile touched her lips. He really couldn’t wait. Back at the villa, she went to the studio on the first floor. It was full of Brandon. His portraits. Back when they burned hot, he was her only model. She loved painting him. Every brushstroke held the weight of her feelings. The largest piece hung in the center. A portrait of the two of them. Young. Leaning into each other. Eyes only for each other. His eyes had plenty of other things in them now. Clenched sand is best let go. A changed man is best thrown away. She carried Brandon’s portraits to the garden. She threw them into the fire pit. Flames licked up the paper, hungry and fast. They ate through every memory. Last, the painting of them together went into the fire. “Raina! What are you doing?” Brandon. He’d come back. He saw what was burning. He lunged forward without thinking. He reached into the fire and pulled the painting out. But the flames were faster. Half of it was gone. Only his half remained. She watched him. “The paintings got old. They faded. No point keeping them.” Like him. He’d spoiled. She didn’t want him anymore. He clutched his burned hand, red and raw, and signed. “You still can’t just burn them. You said this one was your favorite.” Her eyes stirred. It had been. Now it was the one she wanted to see destroyed. She didn’t speak. She just looked at him. She didn’t understand what he was holding onto. He’d already given himself to another woman. These paintings were worth burning his hands for? He seemed to think she was angry. His face softened. Earnest. “No more, okay? These paintings were your love for me. It breaks my heart to see you throw them away.” The hurt on his face was real. Beneath it, panic. She shrugged. No more. She’d paint again. New things. Nothing to do with the old him.

When Raina woke, Brandon was holding a dress. Red. It shimmered. “Baby, the company gala’s tonight. Try this on. I had a Milan designer make it just for you.” She’d forgotten about the gala. She didn’t want to go. Before she could refuse, his phone rang. He took the call and signed at the same time. “Something at the office. I’ll come back for you tonight.” Then he was out the door. He returned to pick her up, already in his tux. He saw her in the dress. His face lit up. “Baby, you are the most beautiful woman on earth. Look, I chose a red tie. We match.” He looked at her, eager for approval. She glanced at him and said nothing. At the venue, she didn’t want to do the rounds with him. She made an excuse about getting food and slipped away to a corner. Serafina found her. A few of her friends trailed behind. She wore a gold backless gown tonight. Plunging neckline. Bare back. Curves on full display. Sexy. Provocative. Heads turned the whole way. Serafina’s eyes skimmed over Raina, cool and dismissive. No greeting. “Fina, you look insane tonight. Every man in this room is glued to you. Your guy won’t get jealous?” A friend sidled up with a wineglass, smirking. “Brandon picked this out himself. He spent all day with me. He said…” Serafina paused. She lowered her voice, just enough. “It’s easy access. Gets him going just looking at it.” “I told you. You’re the one he wants. The deaf girl? That’s pity. Put in some work. Get her gone.” “Don’t worry. Brandon will be mine soon enough.” The friend pressed a hand to her mouth, a fake little giggle, and glanced at Raina. “The deaf girl’s so stupid. We’re saying all this right in front of her and she has no clue. Probably still dreaming about her big wedding.” The group rippled with mocking laughter. Brandon finished his round and came over, pulling Raina along to greet everyone. One of his buddies leered. “Brandon, you lucky bastard. Look at Fina. That body’s a crime. If she were mine, I wouldn’t let anyone else see.” “We only get to look. Brandon gets to look. And taste.” Laughter exploded through the group. Serafina ducked her head, all coy, her eyes sliding over to Brandon. Everyone exchanged knowing glances. The looks bounced between the two of them. Raina had thought this was an affair. Hidden. Secret. But everyone around them knew. She was the only fool. The punchline. If she hadn’t gotten her hearing back, how long would the lie have lasted? She might’ve married him and never known what was happening beside her in her own bed. Her face was calm. Beneath it, ice. Brandon kept his expression steady, as if they weren’t talking about him. But when he spoke, his voice carried weight. “I told you. Not in front of Raina. If she finds out, I’ll make you all regret it.” He swept a cold look across the group. They shut up. Serafina’s face tightened. She pouted. “Brandon, you’re way too careful. What’s there to be afraid of? She’s deaf. She can’t hear.” The air changed. Everyone knew. Brandon’s number one rule. You didn’t mock his girlfriend’s deafness. Anyone who did walked away with bruises. Or worse. He’d destroyed a man’s business over it once. His best friend from childhood. Drunk. One comment. Brandon beat him so badly the guy couldn’t leave his bed for a month. Then he cut him out of his life completely. It was the ultimate taboo in their circle. Now, everyone looked at each other. Someone opened their mouth, maybe to step in. Someone else pulled them back. Raina waited. Would he still defend her? Would he fight for her like before? Brandon’s smile vanished. His eyes went dark. A long pause. Then, finally: “Don’t say things like that again.” No explosion. No violence. The crowd exhaled. Serafina practically glowed. She had her place in his heart. She knew it. The orphan girl was just a spell he’d fallen under. Give it time. She’d replace her. She came from the right family. She was his equal. So she took the out he’d offered. “Fine. Whatever you say.” The mood loosened. Chatter resumed. Raina held her glass and watched the farce in silence. Serafina had carved out her spot. Brandon wanted to keep the mask on. He didn’t want her to know. She wondered. If he found out she’d been able to hear this whole time, what would his face look like? Would he still stand there so calm, so composed? She was almost curious.

The speeches began. Brandon gave his remarks, polished and commanding. Then he called Raina to the stage. A thousand guests watched. He faced her, speaking and signing together. “Raina is the love of my life. My only love. She means more to me than my own life. Without her, nothing matters. I vow here, in front of everyone, to cherish her forever.” Applause thundered through the room. Every gaze on her was full of envy. She felt nothing. She was thinking about how he did it. The tender words. The lies. How did he hold both at once? If she didn’t know the truth, she’d believe she was the luckiest woman alive. His eyes burned with adoration. He expected her to light up. To tear up. Every time he made a grand gesture like this, she’d fall apart, laughing and crying, scolding him for ruining her makeup. This time, she just curved her lips. It looked like a smile. But what he saw in her eyes was cold. A flash of everything that had happened tonight cut through his mind. A nameless dread coiled in his chest. After the gala, she asked if he was coming home. He started to nod. His gaze caught something across the room. He paused. Then he signed. “I’m sorry. I’ve got more business tonight. You go ahead. Don’t wait up.” She nodded, indifferent. She turned toward the car. He grabbed her arm. His face was serious. “Once this stretch is over. After the wedding. I’ll make it all up to you. Every minute. All my time. Yours.” She gave him a faint smile. It meant nothing. She looked at him a moment longer, then shut the car door. In the mirror, she watched him climb into a red Porsche. The license plate was familiar. She’d seen it on Serafina’s Instagram. That night, Serafina posted again. A photo of her and Brandon in bed. His face was still hidden. But the bare chest was unmistakable. Red marks covered their skin. The caption read: “Someone couldn’t stop all night. His stamina is unreal. He told me I’m the only one who gets him this way. #blushing” Raina had thought this would still hurt. But staring at the screen, she felt nothing but stillness. That was what dead love felt like. She came downstairs the next morning. Brandon and Serafina were in the living room, talking. He saw her and hurried to explain. “Fina’s place is getting renovated. She’s staying with us. Just for now. Is that okay? If you’re not comfortable, I’ll figure something else out.” He looked at her, half hopeful, half nervous. She glanced at the suitcases lined up. They’d already decided. If she said no, she’d be the unreasonable one. Besides, it was his house. He could invite whoever he wanted. She’d be gone soon anyway. “Whatever,” she said. Relief broke across his face. He’d always known Raina was understanding. But something about her indifference unsettled him. He brushed it off. He grabbed Serafina’s bags and headed upstairs. Serafina beamed, trailing after him. “Brandon, I finally get to live with you. Now everything’s going to be so much easier.” “Enough. Not in front of Raina.” “What’s the problem? She can’t hear.” Serafina looked back at Raina. Her eyes held a challenge. A smirk of victory. Raina met her gaze. Still water.

Raina woke in the middle of the night. The space beside her was empty. Thirsty. She got up for a glass of water. At the door, she heard noises. From the room next door. Serafina’s door wasn’t fully closed. Light bled through the gap. “Quiet, you little wildcat.” Brandon’s voice. Hoarse. Breathless. “You said she’s a heavy sleeper. And she can’t hear anyway. You love it when I’m loud. It drives you crazy every time.” Serafina’s voice. All pouty provocation. “Baby, don’t you think this is so much hotter? She’s right next door. We’re in here. You like it. I can tell. Your body doesn’t lie.” A soft laugh. Absolute certainty. “You’re going to kill me.” Desire soaked his words. His hands gripped her waist. He didn’t deny a thing. A crash of bodies. Her cries climbing. Raina lifted her phone. She pressed stop on the recording. She walked back to her room. Her face was blank. Brandon didn’t come back to bed. When she went down the next morning, breakfast was already on the table. A bowl of easy-to-digest oatmeal. Made for her. And a plate of fried eggs and bacon. The kind she’d never liked. She knew without thinking. That plate was for someone else. He’d once sworn he’d only ever cook for her. Now his devotion had a second portion. It felt cheap. Worthless. A little while later, Serafina floated down. Glowing. She sipped her coffee and purred, “Brandon, you wrecked me last night. I can barely walk.” “Delicate thing. You seemed to be having a pretty good time.” He set down a plate of French toast. “You asked for this. I’m fueling you up. Don’t tell me tonight you’re too tired again.” Serafina’s lips curved. Her eyes glittered. “More. I want more.” Brandon’s gaze lingered on her. He didn’t answer. He stood and ladled oatmeal for Raina. “I simmered this for an hour. I checked the temperature. It’s perfect. Eat. Good for your stomach. You’ve lost weight lately. I haven’t been taking care of you. Once this is all over, I’ll make it up to you.” He placed the bowl in front of her. Tender. Doting. The perfect boyfriend. She lowered her eyes. She was leaving. She didn’t need his care. The oatmeal smelled good, but she had no appetite. She drank a glass of milk and stood. “Something to do. I’m leaving first.” “Raina, please eat. I worry about your stomach.” He caught her hand, face tight with concern. She pulled free. Fast. Didn’t look back. “No need. I don’t like it.” He stared after her. The coldness in her voice sent a spike of dread through him. She’d never treated him like this. She used to love his cooking. Was he doing something wrong? Maybe he’d been distant lately. She was just sulking. She was easy to soothe. Once this was over, he’d buy her something nice. She’d come around. She always did. He exhaled. Raina did have business. The studio. Signing the transfer papers. The agent smiled. “Moving somewhere new? We cover the best listings in LA. Guarantee you’ll love what we find.” She shook her head, polite. “I’m leaving Los Angeles.” The departure was days away. She met her best friend, Delia Lin, for lunch. She told her everything. The hearing. Leaving the country. Delia’s face went from shock to joy to fury on her behalf. “Renie, I’m happy for you. Whatever you choose, I’ve got your back.” They spent the whole day together. When Raina got home that night, Brandon was on the couch. His face was dark. He held a courier envelope. “Raina. What is this?” She looked. The passport. Sent from the visa office. She walked over. She took it from his hand. Calm. “It’s a friend’s. She’s traveling. She had it mailed here for safekeeping.” The suspicion in his eyes dissolved. He pulled her into a hug. “Baby, you scared me half to death. You can’t leave me. I wouldn’t survive it.” Half joking. Half serious. His hands shook slightly as he signed. “By the way. I have a business trip. A week. You’ll be okay on your own? I’ll be back right before the wedding.” He watched her, careful. Scared she’d object. She looked at him. Into his dark eyes. “Maybe we should cancel the wedding.” He erupted. “No! Raina, what’s wrong? You don’t want to marry me? Or you’re worried I won’t make it back? I’ll be there. I swear.”

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After I was reborn, when Vince Costello’s personal assistant, Bella, once again slipped a dog collar around my neck as a joke while I was sleeping, I didn’t pull out my Glock and press it to her head like I did in my last life. And I didn’t smash half the crystal chandeliers in the Westchester estate and scream for a divorce when Vince defended her. I just sat up, unclasped the damned chain from my neck, and dropped it on the floor. “She’s got some nerve,” I said to Vince, my voice terrifyingly calm. “You two have fun.” I grabbed my trench coat from the nightstand. “I’m done. Happy anniversary.” Then I walked out of the bedroom without looking back. I had no choice. My last life was a nightmare after I left Vince. He treated me like a family traitor—all my bank accounts were frozen overnight, every credit card canceled. I searched all over Manhattan for a divorce lawyer willing to take a “gray case” and ended up with a check for forty-eight dollars. The moment they heard the name Costello, they wouldn’t even let me in their offices. Worse, right after I escaped New York, I was diagnosed with late-stage adenocarcinoma at a free clinic in New Jersey. The doctor said I had six months, tops. No insurance, no money. The cost of late-stage cancer treatment was astronomical. I tried to apply for Medicaid, but the process was too slow. I contacted several medical charities, but they all rejected me, saying my case “didn’t meet priority assistance criteria.” The pain devoured me like a wild animal. I survived on ibuprofen from CVS, and then I couldn’t even afford that. At my most desperate, I swallowed all my pride and crawled back to Vince’s estate on Long Island. It was a late December night, right after a blizzard. I knelt in the snow outside the iron gates, begging the guard through the intercom to let Vince know I was there. Vince’s voice came through, as cold as ice. “You chose to leave, Ava. It was over the moment you walked out that door. Don’t come crawling back.” Then he hung up. I collapsed in the snow. My body temperature was dropping, my consciousness fading. In my last moments, I saw him through the iron bars. He had his arm around Bella in the rose garden I had so carefully tended to. They were drinking champagne from the Waterford crystal glasses I had picked out, and then they kissed. I died right outside my own home. So in this life, fuck dignity. Survival is the only thing that matters. … But I didn’t expect Vince to follow me. He caught me at the end of the hallway, still in his robe. “Ava, wait.” There was a rare urgency in his voice. “Just… hear me out.” He paused, as if trying to find the right words. “Bella’s young, she doesn’t think. The dog collar—I know it was messed up, but it was just a stupid prank.” “Her father worked for my father. She’s seen me as family since we were kids. She doesn’t know boundaries,” he said, rubbing his brow. “You are my wife. Don’t let her get to you.” He had said those exact same words in my last life. Back then, Bella had just burned the back of my hand with a Zippo lighter custom-made for the Costello family, the one with their crest engraved on it. I was shaking from the pain, and hearing Vince’s casual defense of her made me snap. I pulled the Glock 19 he’d given me from my waistband and fired three shots into the marble floor at his feet. Shards of stone flew everywhere. All the core family members were there, including his father. “We’re done!” I shrieked, then stormed out of the estate.

Thinking back now, I was so stupid. Did I really think a woman who was an artist could threaten the boss of New York’s biggest crime family? The reality was, as I walked all night in the winter rain, my Louboutins rubbing my ankles raw and my fever spiking to 103… as I curled up waiting to die in a cheap motel on the Lower East Side, Vince didn’t even send anyone to look for me. He flew to Sicily with Bella that same night. A picture of him adjusting her gun holster and a video of her kissing his cheek on tiptoe spread through the family’s encrypted chat groups the next day. It was sickeningly ironic. I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. Seeing my expression, Vince suddenly yanked his hand away from my wrist. “I’m tired of repeating myself, Ava,” he said, his voice turning cold. “Bella’s father was loyal to my father. I look out for her because of that. Nothing more.” “It’s just a mark on your neck. Put some Neosporin on it. It’ll be gone in two days.” His eyes grew distant. “Stop imagining things between us. You’re being paranoid.” I saw the chill in his eyes, and a bitter feeling rose in my chest. Not for him. For that foolish woman in my past life. In my past life, after I left him, the cancer tormented me beyond belief. The chemo side effects made me vomit blood every day. When the pain hit, I would claw at the walls until my fingernails broke. I lived in a moldy basement in New Jersey that cost four hundred dollars a month and didn’t even have heat. I was so broke that I even went to a pawn shop to sell the engagement ring he gave me—a three-carat black diamond Tiffany custom piece engraved with the Costello family crest. The pawn shop owner offered five thousand dollars. I stared at that ring for a full ten minutes before putting it back in my pocket. When the doctor told me I had a month left, I dragged my eighty-pound body onto the Long Island Rail Road for a two-hour ride back to the estate. I told myself he had once knelt in the blood of my parents and sworn to protect me for the rest of my life. Maybe… maybe he still remembered. But when the guard announced me, Vince’s voice came through the intercom, as calm as if he were talking about the weather. “She made her choice. Tell her to leave.” I knelt outside the iron gate, my forehead pressed against the cold metal bars. “Vince, please…” My voice was so hoarse I could barely speak. “I’m dying. I just want to… see you one more time.” Only static came from the intercom. Then he hung up. I knelt there in the snow until all the warmth left my body. In my final moment, I saw him and Bella in the rose garden. The roses were David Austins I had ordered from Portland, the ones I pruned and fertilized every weekend. They clinked the Waterford crystal glasses I had chosen, and then they kissed. In that moment, the death of my heart hurt more than the cancer. Now, I quickly composed myself. “I’m not jealous, Vince,” I said calmly. “And I’m not mad at Bella.” “I’m just tired. I need some space.” I looked at him. “You should get back to your guests. It’s your anniversary party, after all.” A flicker of shock crossed Vince’s face. He probably didn’t expect me to be so calm. Without another glance, I turned and walked toward the night-shrouded driveway. The estate’s security lights cast my shadow long behind me. I heard him call my name, but I didn’t turn back. This time, I just want to live. Nothing else matters.

It was two in the morning by the time I got back to the SoHo penthouse. Vince bought the apartment for me after we got married—a 4,000-square-foot loft in a converted 1920s industrial building, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking all of lower Manhattan. Only my name was on the deed. It was part of the prenup. His legal team spent three months drafting the two-hundred-page document. I bolted the door and the first thing I did was text my private doctor. Need a full cancer screening. Tomorrow morning, if possible. Paying cash. At 2:30 a.m., she replied. There’s an opening at Memorial Sloan Kettering at 7 a.m. I’ll arrange it. Is everything okay? Memorial Sloan Kettering. The best cancer hospital in New York. Last time, I couldn’t even get in the door. I replied: Just a check-up. Thanks, Dr. Chen. Putting my phone down, I walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The Manhattan skyline was a sea of lights. This city never sleeps—even now, there were taxis and people on the streets. I used to love this city. When I was at RISD, I would take the Amtrak to New York every weekend, wandering through the galleries in SoHo and the art districts in Brooklyn. Then I gave it all up for Vince. RISD offered me a full scholarship for my master’s. I turned it down. A curator at MoMA saw my work and wanted to give me a solo show. I turned that down, too. I spent all my time learning how to be a “proper mob boss’s wife”—how to cook Italian food, how to taste wine, how to maintain a polite smile at family gatherings. How ridiculous. My phone suddenly buzzed. Vince was back. He pushed the door open, yanking off his tie, his brow furrowed with annoyance. “What the hell was that, Ava?” “You embarrassed me in front of everyone. Just walking out like that?” Ever since Bella became his “special assistant,” Vince had become increasingly harsh with me. He could find fault in anything I did—the coffee was too weak, the dinner too salty, the dress I was wearing “inappropriate for a family event.” In my last life, it was his change in attitude, coupled with Bella’s constant provocations, that made me lose control time and time again. I suppressed the tightness in my chest. “Vince, believe it or not, I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “Look.” I pulled down the collar of my shirt, revealing the ligature mark already hidden by foundation. “I’ve already covered it up. So no, I’m not holding a grudge.” He froze for a second. “I just need to get some sleep. That’s all.” With that, I went into the bathroom and locked the door. When I came out of the shower, Vince was gone. But my burner phone was buzzing nonstop. Bella. It was her habit—whenever she was with Vince, she’d send me pictures. Using my phone as her personal photo album. In my last life, I would break down crying or storm into Vince’s office every time I saw them. Now, I opened the message. The first photo: they were in the study at the estate. Vince was looking at documents, and Bella was standing behind him, her hands on his shoulders. The second: in the car, Bella taking a selfie while Vince drove. The third: Bella holding a champagne glass, with the estate’s terrace in the background. I calmly typed back. Wrong angle. The shadow on his left cheek is more flattering. Hold the phone higher. And there’s too much empty space in the second one. Makes you two look distant. A few seconds later, Bella replied. Did someone hack your account??? I sent a smiley face emoji. Nope. Just a friendly tip—Vince is all yours now. I closed the chat. Then I blocked her. Putting my phone down, I felt a wave of relief I’d never felt before. This love triangle was fine by me: I wanted the status of being the Costello family matriarch and the unlimited AmEx Black Card. As for Vince’s body and soul, Bella could have them. Unlike last time, when I was foolish enough to believe love could conquer all.

After dealing with Bella, I lay down and tried to sleep. But I couldn’t. Even reborn, the nightmares still came. I dreamt of my teenage years again. Back then, we lived in Red Hook, Brooklyn—a neighborhood filled with dockworkers and Italian immigrants. My family lived on Third Avenue, Vince’s across the street. His father was the former boss of the Costello family, known for his iron fist. Because Vince was quiet and withdrawn, he was disciplined harshly from a young age. Late at night, I could often hear sounds from their training yard across the street—the crack of a whip, gunshots, and low, stern reprimands. He’d get beaten every time he failed his combat training or shooting drills. I always felt sorry for him back then. So whenever I got candy, I would secretly slip it into the pocket of the coat he left hanging on his door, along with a sticky note. Eat one. It helps. The first time he caught me, his ears turned bright red. “I… I don’t like sweets.” I just smiled and waved my hand. “Then don’t eat it. But Vince, you should talk more. You have a nice voice.” It became our routine. The boy who was always alone started waiting for me. We would walk together down the cobblestone alleys of Red Hook, and sit on the edge of the abandoned pier to watch the sunset. Then, the year he turned eighteen, right before he was sent to a private academy in Switzerland as the family heir, he came to find me. He handed me a brochure for the Rhode Island School of Design. “I looked it up. The security is good, and it’s close to where I’ll be based.” He paused. “Your grades might not get you into the undergrad program, but… there’s a pre-college program. A summer session. I can pay the tuition.” I never told him my parents had already planned to send me to Florence to study art. They were successful gallery owners and could easily afford it. But I secretly changed my application and chose RISD. My father yelled at me for an hour, but I never regretted it. Later, we ended up in the same region—he was in New Haven, Connecticut, “learning the family business,” while I was studying art in Providence, Rhode-I. Free from his father’s control, Vince became a different person. He ditched his thick glasses for contacts, cut his hair short, and started wearing Tom Ford suits. He even learned to play Chopin and Rachmaninoff. I didn’t know why he changed. Until one day, I was celebrating in my studio at RISD for my upcoming solo exhibition when he suddenly appeared at the door. His eyes were red. “I changed everything for you,” he said, grabbing my wrist. “Can’t you just… look at me?” “I’m in love with you, Ava. I have been since we were kids.” In that moment, my heart felt like it had been shot. Of course, I’d heard the rumors about him—how he’d cleaned out family traitors at sixteen, taken over half the East Coast arms trade at eighteen, and was already considered the next boss by twenty. Countless women documented his “transformation” on anonymous, Gossip Girl-style forums, complete with candid photos. I thought a world of blood separated us. But he said he was in love with me. Without thinking, I stood on my toes and kissed him.

We got together after that. I spent all my time researching how to brew his Lavazza coffee, how to pick out Hermès cufflinks, how to choose Blue Note jazz vinyls. My life had no plan; it just revolved around him. Meanwhile, Vince’s life continued its meteoric rise. He consolidated the family’s power, eliminated his rivals, and was officially crowned Don at twenty-three. Even the New York Post reported on it—though they didn’t dare call him a “mob boss,” just a “shipping magnate.” It was an ironic contrast to me. I gave up my art and became his accessory. Even more cruelly, my parents were killed by a car bomb planted by his enemies on their way to see my art show. The NYPD ruled it an “accidental explosion due to vehicle malfunction.” But I knew the truth—my father’s gallery had once refused to launder money for a rival family. Now an orphan, I clutched their charred belongings and cried until I passed out. Vince knelt before me in the funeral home in Brooklyn, under his father’s grim gaze, and swore he would take care of me for the rest of my life. A month later, we got married at City Hall. No wedding, no guests. Just two witnesses—his lawyer and my best friend. After we married, I had multiple miscarriages. The first at six weeks, the second at ten, the third at thirteen. The doctors said my body was “unsuitable for pregnancy” and suggested surrogacy or adoption. Vince said it was okay, but I could see his father’s disappointment. The Costello family needed an heir. My health deteriorated. Insomnia, anxiety, depression. Until Vince met Bella. She was the daughter of his father’s most trusted man, studying international relations and criminology at Columbia University. She interned at Vince’s “company” and quickly became his special assistant. She could discuss the arms market, turf wars, and how to handle FBI investigations with him. She could accompany him to any bloody scene—underground fights, smuggling docks, family “clean-ups.” All I could ask him was, “What do you want for dinner?” or “Does this tie match this suit?” He started to find me empty. I could see it. My eyes started to burn. When I opened them, it was already light out. The pillow was wet again. There was a text from Vince on my phone. Going to see the old man this afternoon. Connecticut. Be ready by two. I looked at the message and replied calmly. Can’t make it. The phone rang immediately. “Why?” Vince’s voice was tight with suppressed anger. “Ava, seriously. There’s nothing going on with Bella and me. Why are you still stuck on this?” Hearing him bring up Bella again, unprompted, made me want to laugh. Vince was always a man of few words. This was the first time he’d ever explained something so many times. Was he trying to convince me, or himself? A sharp pain shot through my chest. “I don’t feel well. I have a doctor’s appointment.” I paused. “Besides, your father has a heart condition. He never liked me—said I was too ‘artsy’ for this family. Why raise his blood pressure?” “And anyway…” my tone was even, “doesn’t he always say someone like Bella is a better fit for you? You should take her.” I was genuinely suggesting it. But Vince exploded. “Fine. Keep throwing your tantrum. Just don’t come crying to me later.” He hung up. I listened to the dial tone and laughed out loud. See, that’s the difference between being loved and not. The Vince who used to love me would panic if I so much as frowned, asking if he’d done something wrong. The Vince who didn’t love me anymore thought I was throwing a tantrum even when I was giving him sincere advice.

I didn’t waste any time. I took an Uber straight to Memorial Sloan Kettering on the Upper East Side. I turned off my phone and left it in the apartment. I was afraid it would mess with my head. This check-up was about whether I would repeat my past mistakes. I arrived at seven in the morning, right on time. The Memorial Sloan Kettering building was a fortress of glass and steel at the corner of 68th and York. This was the top cancer treatment center in the country—if there was a cure for cancer, it was in this building. When the receptionist saw the name “Costello” on my appointment, her attitude shifted immediately. “Mrs. Costello, Dr. Chen is waiting for you. Please follow me to the VIP area.” The VIP area was on the twelfth floor. It was decorated like a five-star hotel—teak floors, modern art on the walls, a Nespresso machine, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the East River. It was a world away from the free clinic I went to in New Jersey in my last life. That clinic was in an industrial area of Newark. The plastic chairs in the waiting room were cracked, the fluorescent lights flickered, and the air always smelled of disinfectant and sweat. I had to wait in line for three or four hours every time, just to see a doctor for ten minutes. And their equipment was ancient—the CT machine was from the 1990s and sometimes jammed. It took a week to get results, but the bill was still thousands of dollars. In my last life, I had no insurance. Vince froze all my accounts after the divorce, including my health insurance. I tried to apply for Medicaid, but the process took three months, and I couldn’t wait that long. I had to sell everything—my Hermès bags, my Cartier watch, my Tiffany jewelry. I sold each piece for a fraction of its worth because I needed the cash. In the end, I even took my wedding ring to a pawn shop. The owner was a bald Jewish man with thick glasses. He looked at the three-carat black diamond ring with a magnifying glass for a long time before offering five thousand dollars. “The market price is at least a hundred and fifty thousand,” I said. “Market price is market price, cash is cash,” he shrugged. “Do you want the money or not?” I held the ring, my fingers trembling. In the end, I put it back in my pocket. I’d rather die than sell it. How pathetic. Now, Dr. Chen walked into the exam room, holding an iPad. She was in her forties, Chinese-American, a Columbia Med school graduate, and the chief of oncology at MSK. “Ava,” she said, sitting down with a serious expression. “I’ll be direct. When you texted me at two in the morning asking for an emergency screening, I was very worried.” “Is there something you haven’t told me? Any symptoms?” I took a deep breath. “I just… have a bad feeling. Family history, you know.” It was a lie, of course. But I couldn’t exactly say, “I died of cancer in my last life, so I’d like to get checked.” Dr. Chen nodded. “Alright. We’ll do a full workup. CT, MRI, bloodwork—tumor markers, genetic testing, everything. I’ve also scheduled you for a PET scan and an endoscopy.” “Given your request, I’m treating this as a high priority. Preliminary results will be back in three days.” Three days. In my last life, it took a week just to get CT results. For the next ten days, I stayed in a VIP room at MSK. The room was like a hotel suite—king-sized bed, private bathroom, Netflix, and gourmet meals three times a day. The window looked out over the East River, and in the evening, the sunset would paint the entire room gold. I underwent all sorts of tests: CT, MRI, PET scan, colonoscopy, endoscopy, bone marrow biopsy. Every time they drew blood, the nurse used the thinnest needle and applied a numbing cream first. “You’ll barely feel a thing, Mrs. Costello.”

In my last life, at that clinic in New Jersey, the nurse used a thick needle and would miss the vein on the first try, leaving my arm covered in purple bruises. This is what money does in the American healthcare system. If you have money, you get a VIP room, the latest drugs, and the best doctors. If you don’t, you wait in line for four hours, use outdated equipment, and want to cry when you see the bill. On the tenth day, Dr. Chen came with the report. She sat down by my bed, her expression complicated. “Ava, I have news. And it’s… a bit complex.” My heart skipped a beat. “We found something. Adenocarcinoma. But it’s early—Stage 1A, to be exact.” “The tumor is small, localized, and hasn’t spread to the lymph nodes. The survival rate after treatment is over 90%.” She paused. “I’m so sorry. I know this is terrifying. But you caught it incredibly early. Most people are asymptomatic at this stage.” As I listened to her, tears suddenly welled up in my eyes. But they weren’t tears of fear. They were tears of relief. I finally have a chance to live. “Can… can you treat it?” my voice trembled. “Of course. We’ll start with surgery to remove the tumor, followed by adjuvant chemotherapy to clear out any remaining cancer cells. Given the early stage, we can use targeted therapies with minimal side effects.” She took my hand. “Ava, you’re going to be okay. I promise.” I signed the treatment consent forms that day. The surgery was scheduled for a week later. Chemo would start after I recovered. Dr. Chen created a personalized treatment plan for me—the latest targeted drug, Keytruda, combined with a low-dose chemo regimen. Six cycles, once every three weeks. “The side effects will be managed,” she said. “Hair loss, fatigue, some nausea. But not as severe as traditional chemo. We’ll monitor you closely.” The cost was astronomical. Surgery: one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Chemotherapy: thirty-five thousand per session, totaling two hundred and ten thousand for six. Targeted therapy: forty thousand a month, for a total of two hundred and forty thousand over six months. Hospital stay: The VIP room was twenty-five hundred a day, estimated at seventy-five thousand for a month. The grand total: over six hundred thousand dollars. When the nurse gave me the bill, she said cautiously, “Mrs. Costello, we can set up a payment plan if you need…” I pulled out the American Express Black Card. “Put it all on the card.” She stared for a moment, then nodded. “Of course. I’ll process that right away.” In my last life, I couldn’t even afford a ten-thousand-dollar down payment. That New Jersey clinic demanded cash upfront before they would operate. I begged them with the five thousand dollars I got from selling my jewelry, but they refused. “We need at least a 50% deposit, ma’am. It’s hospital policy.” I knelt in the billing office, crying and pleading with the financial administrator. “Please. I’m dying. I’ll find a way to pay, I swear…” She looked at me with pity, but mostly helplessness. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I don’t make the rules.” In the end, I had to forgo the surgery and live on painkillers. I bought them on the gray market—expired OxyContin, ten dollars a pill. I only took one when the pain was unbearable because I couldn’t afford more. Now, I lay in my bed at Memorial Sloan Kettering, looking out at the New York skyline. This time, I have money, the best doctors, and a chance to live. But at what cost? Being tied to a man who no longer loves me. Is it worth it? I looked at the wedding ring on my finger. The black diamond glittered in the sunlight, cold and beautiful. It’s worth it. To live, everything is worth it.

The surgery was a success. Dr. Chen removed the tumor, and the lymph node biopsy showed no spread. “Clean margins,” she said. “We got it all.” Recovery took two weeks. Then chemo began. The first session was on a Wednesday morning. The nurse took me to the infusion center—a bright room with a dozen reclining chairs, each with an IV stand beside it. The windows overlooked the East River, and Monet prints hung on the walls. Soft music played from a Spotify playlist—Norah Jones, Coldplay, Bon Iver. The nurse set up my IV, and the drugs began to drip into my veins. Keytruda and a low dose of Carboplatin. I felt nothing for the first two hours. In the third hour, the nausea started. The nurse immediately gave me an anti-nausea shot of Zofran. The sickness eased, but it lingered. In the fourth hour, fatigue washed over me like a tidal wave. I closed my eyes, listening to the drip of the IV machine, feeling my body in a tug-of-war with death. The side effects were a little worse than Dr. Chen had described. Week one: Nausea, vomiting, total exhaustion. I could only manage small amounts of plain porridge and crackers. Anything else made me want to throw up. Week two: My hair started falling out. First a few strands, then handfuls. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at the clumps in the drain, and cried. Week three: Mouth sores, loss of taste, numbness in my hands and feet. I couldn’t even drink water and had to get fluids through an IV. But I didn’t experience the soul-crushing pain of my last life. Because it was early stage. Because I was on the best drugs. Because I had money. After the second cycle, I had lost fifteen pounds. Dr. Chen suggested I shave my head. “It’s all going to fall out anyway. Better to take control of the process.” She was right. I had a stylist come to my hospital room and shave it all off. Looking at my bald self in the mirror, I smiled. “Not bad. Very Furiosa.” The nurse laughed. “You’re handling this better than most patients, Mrs. Costello.” I didn’t tell her this was my second time with cancer. I already had my breakdown in the last life. This time, I just wanted to live. Before the third cycle, I needed to pay for the next round of treatment. A nurse came to my room to notify me. “Mrs. Costello, we need to process the payment for your next cycle. The total is seventy-three thousand, five hundred dollars.” I nodded and took out the black card. She took it to run the charge. Five minutes later, she returned, looking embarrassed. “Um… Mrs. Costello, the card was declined. The system says the account has been frozen.” I froze for a second. Then I smiled. Of course. Vince froze the card. I put my coat on over my hospital gown, slipped on a wig (a gift from a nurse who said it would make me “look less scary”), and took an Uber to Vince’s headquarters in Midtown Manhattan. The Costello “Shipping Corporation” headquarters was on Fifth Avenue, a 1930s Art Deco building, thirty stories high, with Vince’s office on the top floor. When I reached the entrance, security immediately stopped me. “Ma’am, do you have an appointment with Mr. Costello?” I looked at him—he was in his twenties, Italian-American, clearly new to the family business. I pulled my marriage certificate out of my purse. “Does this work?” He glanced at it, and his face changed. “Mrs. Costello. I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you. Please, this way.” He led me through the marble lobby to a private elevator that went to the top floor. Every employee we passed stared at me. I knew what I looked like—bald (the wig wasn’t sitting right), in a hospital gown, thin as a piece of paper, with the tape from an IV still on the back of my hand. I looked like a walking corpse. But I didn’t care. In my last life, after the divorce, I came to this building to try to borrow money. But back then, I didn’t even make it past the front door before security threw me out. Because all I had was a divorce decree, not a marriage certificate. The elevator reached the thirtieth floor. As the doors opened, I could hear laughter and chatter from the office area. “So, Miss Bella, is it true the boss is finally divorcing that wife of his? About time, I say.” “Right? I’ve worked here for three years and I’ve never even seen her. Heard she’s just some artist. An orphan, too. She was lucky to marry him.” “Yeah, last time the boss met with that Russian arms dealer, the guy kept asking where you were, Miss Bella. Said the boss wouldn’t even touch his vodka without you there to toast with him.” Bella chuckled lightly. “Come on, guys. The boss and I are just colleagues. My father trusts him, that’s why I’m here.” “But…” She paused. “A divorce? It won’t be long.” I stood in the hallway, listening to this conversation, a sarcastic smile playing on my lips. The difference between being loved and not? Before Bella came along, Vince forbade anyone from gossiping in the office. Anyone who broke the rule was fired immediately. But now, they could be so casual. I pushed the door open and walked into the office. Everyone turned to look at me, their faces filled with shock. I said calmly, “Sorry to disappoint you all. Your boss won’t be getting a divorce.” “He’ll be a widower first.”

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I came home after five years working out, only to find my husband had a new family. Christmas was coming. I took time off early, planning to surprise my husband. I knocked on the door with gifts in hand, bursting with excitement. A stranger opened it—a woman. With a crying baby in her arms. I froze. She looked me up and down. “Can I help you?” “I… I just came back home.” I stammered. The woman scoffed. She leaned against the doorframe, blocking my path. “Lady, you’ve got the wrong place.” “This is my home. My husband’s and mine. Your house couldn’t possibly be here.” Her home? My eyes shot past her into the house. They landed on a massive wedding photo on the wall. In it, my husband had his arm around this woman. Both of them grinning like idiots. The background, the furniture, the layout— Identical to my home. She noticed the gift in my hand. Her tight expression relaxed. “Oh, I get it. You’re here to see my husband about something medical, right?” She stepped aside, clearing the doorway. “He’s got surgery this afternoon, won’t be back till later. Come in and wait if you want.” “But he cannot accept gifts. please take it back.” … I followed her inside like a ghost. My mind was blank. Buzzing. “Don’t bother with the shoes. We’re not that formal here.” The woman adjusted the baby on her hip, gesturing to the couch. “Help yourself to water. I’ve got to settle him down. Dr. Grant’s swamped—you’re not the first patient’s family to track him down at home.” She thought I was some desperate relative here to beg favors. I stood in the middle of the living room. My hands and feet were ice. This house was mine. Five years ago, Grant and I got our marriage license. I was just a waitress. He was a doctor. People whispered we didn’t match—that I was punching above my weight. I didn’t want anyone thinking I married him for his money. So I worked myself to the bone. Double shifts, triple shifts. Saved every tip. I sold the house my parents left me and scraped together the down payment for this penthouse. I wanted to prove I could contribute. That I deserved him. Right after we bought it, I got an offer to work at a casino in Las Vegas. The tips there were insane—some gamblers who win money throw it around recklessly. I could make three times what I made here. But it meant five years away. Grant held my hand and said, “Babe, go. For our future, I can handle the distance.” “Don’t worry about the renovations. Mom and Dad are here. When you come back, we’ll move straight into the new place.” I believed him. For five years, I worked every shift I could get in Las Vegas. Breakfast rushes, lunch crowds, late-night bar service. My feet bled in my shoes. Every month, I kept just enough for rent and food. The rest went straight to Grant. I told him to use quality materials for the renovations. Eco-friendly. Don’t cheap out. He said okay. I told him to get smart appliances. For when we had a baby. He said okay. Now I was back. The house was finished. It looked great. Except the woman of the house had been replaced. In the wedding photo on the wall, Grant’s smile was radiant. Crow’s feet crinkling with joy. The woman in his arms was young, her face full of collagen. She couldn’t be older than twenty-two. “Hey, why are you just standing there?” The woman finished soothing the baby and came over to pour me water. “Dr. Grant looks serious, but he’s a softie. You’re here about a hospital bed, right?” She played the hostess, voice dripping with pride. “All I have to do is whisper in his ear at night. This kind of thing? Easy.” I stared at her face. My stomach clenched. “How long have you two been married?” My throat was dry. The woman paused, then smiled shyly. “Almost two years. The baby’s already six months old.” Two years. Back then, I was pulling triple shifts in Las Vegas. I worked until my ankles swelled, until I couldn’t stand anymore. Came home one night with a 103 fever. I called Grant just to hear his voice. He said he was in a conference. Hung up fast. Turns out, he was here. Researching how to make a baby. My fingers tightened around my purse strap. The leather dug into my palm. “The house is beautifully decorated,” I said, scanning the room. The woman lifted her chin proudly. “Of course. Grant designed it himself. He personally picked out every single piece of furniture.” “He said he wanted to give me the best. He’d never let me suffer.” Designed himself? Personally picked? The high-end coffee table. The crystal chandelier. The leather couch. I paid for all of it. I told him to buy it. My money—money I earned one grueling shift at a time—had become a monument to their love. I’m such a goddamn idiot.

I ran my hand along the armrest. “This couch wasn’t cheap, was it?” She laughed. “Eight thousand. Grant said I work so hard nursing, I deserve it.” Eight thousand. That was two months of tips working the casino floor in Las Vegas. I glanced around the room. “Can I see the bedroom? I heard Dr. Grant’s place is gorgeous. I’d love to get some ideas.” She nodded. “Sure. Take a look.” She led me into the master bedroom. That king-size bed—the brand I’d admired for months but couldn’t justify buying. On the nightstand: their wedding photo. A photo from the baby’s first month celebration. The closet door was ajar. His dress shirts hung next to her sundresses. On the vanity: a full set of expensive skincare. Last month, Grant said his mom’s birthday was coming up. He asked me to wire money for a gift. Turns out, his “mom” is in her early twenties. I pointed at the skincare. “That’s expensive.” She smiled. “Grant bought it. He says women need to take care of themselves. Can’t let yourself turn into a hag.” A hag. I touched my own face. Fine lines from years of working in smoke-filled casinos, smiling through graveyard shifts serving drunk gamblers. I became a hag working doubles for this family. And he used my money to keep her dewy. She grabbed a serum bottle, about to squeeze some onto my hand. “Try this. The repair effects are amazing.” I pulled my hand back. These hands had carried trays loaded with drinks through packed casino floors, dealt with grabby drunks at 3 a.m., and smiled through every humiliation for tips. They didn’t deserve anything this expensive. But she grabbed my wrist anyway, frowning. “Your hands are so rough. You’ve got to take care of yourself. Our Grant can’t stand seeing a woman suffer.” She held up her own hand. Her fingers were pale and soft. The diamond on her ring finger was blinding. “This—he gave me this when he proposed. He said he makes money just so me and the baby can live our best lives.” She kept going. “Last time I mentioned wanting some pizza from across town, he drove over an hour after a midnight surgery to get it for me.” “Didn’t get home till 2 a.m. The pizza was cold, but my heart was warm.” Mine was cold. I remembered one night when I collapsed from dehydration after an eighteen-hour shift. The casino floor had been packed, no breaks, no water. “Babe, I can barely stand.” He cut me off, irritated. “I’m in a meeting. Busy. You’re an adult. If you’re sick, go to a hospital. Stop being so dramatic.” Then he hung up. I said, “He treats you well.” She walked over to the crib, face glowing. “He does. After I had the baby, he got even better. He says childbirth is suffering. He owes me for the rest of his life.” “We never run out of supplements. He says his mom’s health got wrecked giving birth to him. He won’t let me go through that.” I lived on casino staff meals and energy drinks for months to save money for the mortgage. Got acute gastritis from the stress and irregular eating. Curled up in my tiny apartment, writhing in pain. I called him. He said his mom’s back was hurting. He had to take her to the hospital. Told me to tough it out. He knows how to care for people. Just not me. I asked, “You’re so young. Why’d you want a baby so soon?” Her face flushed. “Grant was in a rush. He said he’s not getting any younger, that he loves kids. A family isn’t complete without a baby.” “He says he’ll work hard, make money. Our kid will go to the best schools.” I smiled faintly. The first year we were married, I brought up having kids. He said his career was just starting. Too much pressure. We couldn’t afford it. Turns out, he just didn’t want kids with me. And my money became the foundation for their perfect little life. This whole family bled me dry. I was still thinking when the front door rattled. “Ooh, is my baby awake yet?” That was my mother-in-law’s voice. “Keep it down. Don’t wake the baby.” My father-in-law’s voice. I turned around. My in-laws came through the door loaded down with grocery bags. They saw me standing in the bedroom. Their faces went white. They froze. “J-Jane?” My mother-in-law dropped the dragon fruit she was holding. Red juice splattered across the floor.

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At my son Leo’s funeral, my phone screen flickered. It connected to a video call from three years ago. Jack O’Rourke. He sat in our old crumbling apartment, gripping a sonogram from Boston Women’s Hospital, giddy as a kid. “Ellie! Sweetheart, is our baby adorable or what? Did the doctor say boy or girl? He’s got my nose, right?” I listened through my earbuds to every word. Said nothing. His smile froze bit by bit. The door to the viewing room flew off its hinges. Jack O’Rourke, three years later, strode in. Custom suit. Cologned to death. He ripped the white rose wreath off the doorframe and hissed at me. “Eleanor. A fake funeral. For Twitter. Using our son. For clicks. Do you have a single shred of decency left?” I looked down at my phone. The man on the screen from three years ago had gone pale, lips bloodless. I turned the camera. Pointed it at the tiny walnut casket. And I answered the younger man’s questions. One by one. “Adorable. A boy. Adored you.” “But he’s dead.” *** On the screen, Jack from three years ago looked like he’d been struck by lightning. His eyes went red. He shook his head, over and over. “No. God, no. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.” The Jack standing in front of me saw I was still holding my phone and snapped. He lunged for it. “Eleanor Wentworth! You’re saying Leo is dead? You haven’t shed a single tear, and you’re on a video call with—” He looked down. The man on the screen wore a flannel shirt. Looked exactly like him. Younger by a few years. Staring back at him. Jack froze. Two seconds passed. He let out a cold laugh. “A few days in a psych ward and your brain is completely fried? You made some AI deepfake to make me jealous? To guilt-trip me?” The younger Jack opened his mouth to speak. The screen went black. Signal dead. Jack tossed my phone onto the pew and stared down at me. “I don’t care what game you’re playing. Heather can’t sleep anymore because of those anonymous posts you made calling her a murderer. She’s getting torn apart online. You’re coming with me right now to apologize in person. Say you made it all up.” A low laugh escaped me. Heather Dunn destroyed my home. Killed my son. And I was supposed to apologize to my son’s murderer because I didn’t have the kind of evidence that held up in a boardroom. Jack caught my laugh. Something flickered in his eyes. He waved at the two men by the door. They hauled me up and shoved me into a black Cadillac Escalade at the curb. The car climbed into a Back Bay penthouse. The door opened. Heather glided out holding a glass. Murky liquid. Sharp chemical stench. “Ellie, you must have suffered so much in that place.” Her voice was syrup laced with poison. “I got this detox formula from a naturopath. Drink it while it’s hot.” She looked past me, scanning the doorway. No Leo. “Where’s Leo? He’s missed his heavy metal detox drops for days now. It’ll mess up his autism intervention progress. Have the nanny bring him back for his medicine.” She had the nerve. Blood roared in my ears. I slapped the glass out of her hand. Aside from his autism diagnosis, every pediatric checkup had shown Leo was physically healthy. But Heather insisted she’d learned about natural medicine on some holistic forum and pumped him full of her homemade detox garbage day after day. My Leo was three years old. Cause of death: acute liver and kidney failure. The reeking liquid splattered across Heather’s silk nightgown. She shrieked. Jack lunged. Shoved me aside. Shielded her behind him and frantically checked her skin for burns. I hit the floor. Shards of glass. Pooling liquid. Slivers bit into my palm. Pain. Nothing compared to the tearing in my chest. Jack wrapped his arms around Heather and yelled for a private doctor. I called his name. Quiet. “Jack. Do you know that her detox cocktails killed our son?” His stride faltered. I waited for him to turn. Even a flicker. He turned. His eyes were ice. “An autistic child who couldn’t even string a sentence together. Maybe this is for the best. Stop using him as a prop for sympathy.” My heart stopped. I sat in the wreckage, hollowed out, and laughed. I’d actually hoped a cold-blooded Silicon Valley venture capitalist could feel something for a son he saw as defective. Stupid. My phone lit up where it had fallen on the carpet. Video call ringing again. I swiped. The younger Jack saw my bloodless face, my bleeding hands, and his eyes went red. His voice shook. “Ellie? What happened? What did he do to you?”

I stared into the screen. I wanted to know too. How the American dream turned into this nightmare. Jack and I were the couple everyone envied at Boston University. Him, a Southie scholarship kid scraping by. Me, a Beacon Hill old-money heiress. Two worlds. Stupidly in love. I gave up my trust fund for him. Cut ties with my parents. Moved into his freezing apartment. He worked himself to death in a tech incubator, coding all night, chasing investors, just to prove I hadn’t made a mistake. And then it felt like God finally looked our way. His company landed a Series A from Sequoia. He started flying to the West Coast constantly. Endless meetings. That was when I got pregnant. We barely had time to set up the nursery. Juggling investors and a newborn. I told myself it was worth it. Sacrifices were just the price of the dream. Until Leo turned two. Boston Children’s Hospital. Severe autism diagnosis. Jack stood on the apartment balcony that night and burned through a full pack of cigarettes. The first time Leo ran toward him with open arms, Jack looked right through him. I met Heather at a charity gala. Medical debt. Family drug history. About to lose her housing. I felt for her. Paid her community college tuition. Even placed her as an admin assistant at Jack’s company. She sat across from me at a Starbucks, tears streaming down her face, swearing she’d work hard and repay my kindness. Then, the day before Thanksgiving. I was picking Leo up from his ABA therapy clinic. Jack wasn’t answering his phone. Leo was melting down, crying for his dad. I drove to the office. Pushed open the frosted glass door of the CEO suite. I saw Jack. Heather. Pinned against that mahogany desk. Tangled together. My stomach heaved. The world shattered. I grabbed the coffee mug off his desk and hurled it at him. He didn’t even duck. Hot coffee soaked his shirt. I reached for her. The trembling, half-dressed mess beside him. I swung. Asked her if she had a single shred of shame. Jack shoved me. My head hit the edge of the marble coffee table. Blood ran down my forehead. Leo screamed at the violence. Fever spiked that night. After the glass shattered, Jack stopped pretending. Heather moved into our house in the suburbs. Paraded around my kitchen wearing Jack’s shirts. Smirked at me. I swallowed it. Leo’s special ed and intervention costs were astronomical. I had no leverage. Until Heather went off the rails. Discovered natural medicine on some forum. Decided Leo didn’t need doctors. Just her detox concoctions. I refused. Threatened to call Child Protective Services. Heather collapsed into Jack’s arms, tears flowing on cue. “Jack, does Ellie think I’m hurting Leo?” Jack’s gaze cut to me. He ordered two of the household staff to hold Leo down. Then he pried open Leo’s mouth with his own hands and poured that bottle of unlabeled chemicals down his throat. I screamed. Fought. Nothing. To shut me up for good, Jack terminated every single one of Leo’s treatments at Boston Children’s. Canceled his health insurance. I hit my limit. Hit desperation. I leaked everything to Reddit and a few gossip outlets. Recordings. Photos. The affair. The abuse. I thought social media fury would force his hand. I underestimated money. Jack’s PR team rolled in. Bought off journalists. Flipped the story. I was a postpartum depressive who couldn’t accept my son’s diagnosis and fell into alternative medicine quackery. They doxxed me. Tore me apart online. And as punishment, Jack hired top-shelf psychiatrists and had me forcibly committed. Locked in a psychiatric ward. Sedatives. Restraints. Electroshock. I swallowed every single humiliation just to get out and see Leo. When my lawyer finally got me released, I clawed my way home. Leo was alone in that freezing room. Barely breathing. Skin and bones. I rushed him to the ER. The doctors said heavy metal detoxifiers had destroyed his liver and kidneys. Nothing they could do. That night in the ICU. Nothing but the beeping of machines. I held Leo. Felt his warmth slip away. He closed his eyes. Eyes that looked so much like Jack’s. My son died in this world of lies. I dragged my own broken body through the cremation arrangements. Opened Instagram. Heather’s story. The night Leo stopped breathing in my arms, his father and the woman who killed him were curled up in front of a fireplace in Aspen. Champagne. Kissing. These memories cut like rusted knives. I surfaced. My face was wet. On the screen, the younger Jack’s eyes were raw. He punched the drywall behind him. A hole caved in. His voice came out strangled, torn from his ribcage. “Ellie. Tell me what I have to do to stop that bastard.” “What do I do to keep you and our child safe from this?” I looked at him through the screen. Quiet. Absolute. “If you can, go tell me. Three years ago. Go to Planned Parenthood. Book the appointment. End the pregnancy.” If Jack was destined to betray us. Destined to become a cold-blooded monster. I had only one wish. Never let my Leo suffer through this rotten world again. Jack’s eyes went bloodshot. His mouth opened. No sound. He covered his face and broke. The door swung open. Jack, three years later, walked in carrying a custom medical kit. His gaze landed on me. Cold. “End what?”

I ended the call. Expressionless. “Nothing.” Jack’s eyes darkened. He crossed the room and snatched my phone. Scrolled through the video call history. One call. A contact saved as “Jack.” The storm on his face cleared. Replaced by that nauseating, controlling smugness. “I knew it. Playing hard to get. You gave up your entire family for me, Eleanor. You think I’d believe you stopped loving me?” A smirk tugged at his mouth. He scooped me up, half-force, and set me on the Italian leather sofa. Opened the medical kit. Started cleaning the glass cuts on my hands. Gentle. Focused. Like I was a treasure again. Like the night he proposed in Harvard Square. Then he spoke, and the cold hit my bones. “Heather grew up in a trailer park. No education. She just wanted to learn something to prove herself. You set up that charity fund to help her in the first place. You should be happy she’s finding meaning in her life. Right?” I laughed. Cold. Her meaning was paid for with my son’s life. Jack ignored my laugh. Kept talking. “Also, the nanny said Leo’s been much calmer lately. Tomorrow, bring him back from wherever you’ve stashed him. Heather’s treatment regimen can’t be interrupted.” He didn’t believe Leo was dead. Not deep down. He thought I’d hidden the kid at a friend’s house. My heart twisted again. I closed my eyes. Inhaled. Said it again. “He’s not coming back. He’s really dead. Ashes.” Jack’s face went cold. He stared at me. Pure disappointment. “Eleanor. You’re hopeless. Is your paranoid delusion flaring up again?” He snapped the medical kit shut. Stood. Walked away without looking back. The next morning, I came down the stairs. Two thick-necked guards pinned me to the marble dining table. Heather approached with a glass of murky green liquid. Her smile was poison dipped in honey. “Ellie, I paid a fortune online for this herbal nerve repair tonic. It’ll do wonders for your mental state. Drink up.” I smelled rancid essential oils. Fought hard. Jack sat at the head of the table, reading the Wall Street Journal. He folded the paper. Looked at me. “Since you insist on hiding Leo, you can test Heather’s new formula.” I stared at him. Disbelief. He knew. He’d always known Heather was no naturopath. No doctor. And he used our son as a lab rat anyway. He didn’t care if those concoctions destroyed Leo’s liver. He only cared about feeding her pathetic vanity. He caught my look of despair. His eyes flickered. Just for a second. He gave a slight nod. The guard wrenched my jaw open. Heather poured that foul liquid down my throat. It burned like fire tearing through my stomach lining. I gagged. Choked. Tears streaming involuntarily down my face, splattering on the floor. Jack didn’t flinch. He cut a piece of eggs Benedict and fed it to Heather. Complimented her cooking. The chemicals hit fast. Fever spiked. My abdomen seized. I curled up on the guest room bed. Every organ felt like it was being dissolved in acid. Through the haze, a cold cloth pressed against my forehead. The pain backed off a notch. Hours passed. I clawed back a shred of consciousness. Jack’s voice in the hallway. Sharp. Pacing. His PR director, frantic. “Jack, Twitter and Reddit just exploded. Heather’s getting destroyed. Recordings. Saying she murdered your stepson with fake medicine to climb the ladder. Trending everywhere. Pre-market stock is tanking.” I heard Jack’s voice go cold as steel. He hung up. He dialed again. Roared at his head of IT. “Take those posts down. Now. Whatever it costs.” The voice on the other end stammered. “Sir, the posts were sent from your private VPN credentials. The system shows you personally set the irrevocable command.” Jack’s breathing stopped. “Goddammit. Get a black-hat hacker. Force delete them. Now.” He hurled his phone. Shoved the guest room door open. Met my eyes. His chest heaved. He grabbed me off the bed. Snarling. “Eleanor. When did you become this vicious?” “You know what online mobs do to people. You’re trying to destroy Heather.” I shook my head. Weak. “It wasn’t me.” Jack laughed. Disbelief and rage. “Who else? You bugged the whole house, didn’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Issued the order. “Tomorrow. Ten a.m. Press conference. You will stand in front of every media outlet and say it was your psychiatric episode. You imagined everything. And you will apologize to Heather publicly.” I lifted my bloodshot eyes. “And if I don’t?” A cruel smile cut across Jack’s face. “You keep saying Leo is dead. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll use every connection I have to tear apart wherever you’ve hidden him. And when I find him, don’t blame me when you lose visitation rights. Permanently.” My pupils contracted. He was threatening me with my son. Even if he only believed Leo was hidden. Jack stared down at me, smug certainty in his eyes. He was about to press harder when Heather’s voice floated up from downstairs. Crying his name. Jack let go of me. Turned. Disappeared. I pulled out my phone. Opened the chat with the younger Jack. *Was that you?* The reply came instantly. *Yes.* Another message. *Everyone who hurt you and Leo pays. Every single one of them can rot in hell.* *Including me.*

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Reborn seven days before my mate stole my acceptance letter, I rejected him. I had been Dominic Gray’s perfect Luna for thirty years. He was the Alpha of Moonstone Pack, a powerful businessman, respected across the werewolf territories. Everyone praised me for being understanding and dutiful, calling me the perfect Luna by his side. I believed them. Until I was organizing his study and found a yellowed acceptance letter for Lunar Medical Academy tucked inside a journal. My name was on it. In his journal, he wrote that Serena Blake’s brother Sean had died for him. He owed the Blakes. So he hid my acceptance letter, told the Academy I’d declined, and gave my spot to Serena—the next candidate on the waitlist—to repay the debt. Lunar Medical Academy was the most prestigious medical school in the werewolf world. Every graduate went on to achieve greatness in medicine. I should have been standing among them, saving lives in the operating room. Instead, my husband trapped me in his shadow for thirty years. My chest tightened. The room spun. When I opened my eyes, young Dominic stood in front of me. “Elara, what’s wrong now? You look awful.” I was back. Back to seven days before the Lunar Academy acceptance announcement. …… The irritation in Dominic’s eyes made me flinch. I stepped back from his reaching hand. “Nothing. Bad dream.” He dropped his hand, his voice cold. “Then get up. Serena’s not feeling well. Go pick up her prescription from the pharmacy.” Serena again. She was always unwell. In my previous life, I’d done this exact errand on this rainy evening. I got caught in traffic, came home late, caught a cold, and was sick in bed for three days. By the time I recovered, the Academy decision was final. “It’s pouring outside,” I said. “The pharmacy closes in an hour. If you go now, you’ll make it.” No room for argument in his tone. “She can order it online. Delivery takes an hour.” Dominic’s jaw tightened. “The medication she needs isn’t available for delivery. You know the pack pharmacy stocks specialized suppressants. She needs them tonight.” I looked at him. This man always had reasons when it came to Serena. “Can’t someone else go?” “Elara!” His voice sharpened. “Sean died for me. Taking care of his sister is my responsibility. As my fiancée, it’s yours too.” He grabbed his car keys and tossed them at me. “Take the car. Now.” I didn’t move. “Dominic, my medical school application materials—they’re with you, right?” He froze. Then nodded. “Yes. I’m handling your submission.” “I want them back.” His eyes went guarded instantly. “Why? I told you I’d take care of it.” “I want to submit them myself.” He went quiet. After a moment: “Elara, you’re pre-med with decent grades, but this is competitive. We can’t risk anything going wrong. Serena’s the hero’s sister—her family reputation is spotless. Her application is stronger.” “So mine isn’t good enough?” “That’s not what I meant.” He avoided my gaze. “Just get her prescription first. We’ll discuss this later.” He turned and walked out, heading toward Serena’s place next door. I heard his voice soften through the wall. “Serena, don’t worry. Elara’s getting your medication. You’ll feel better soon.” I grabbed the keys and walked into the rain. But I didn’t go to the pharmacy. I drove to Pack House and found Elder William in his office. “Elder William, I need to collect my medical school application materials. All of them.” He looked surprised. “Didn’t you give those to Alpha Dominic to submit?” “I want to review them myself.” He didn’t question further. Pulled a thick folder from his filing cabinet. “You’re such a dedicated girl. Dominic’s fortunate.” I gripped the folder tight, tucked it under my jacket, and walked back to my car. I didn’t go home. I drove to my grandma, Nana Rose’s apartment. I handed her the folder. “Grandma, keep this safe. Don’t give it to anyone.” Grandma looked at my rain-soaked clothes. “What happened? Another fight with Dominic?” “No.” I shook my head. “Grandma, if I don’t get into Lunar Academy… will you be disappointed?” Grandma touched my cheek. “Silly girl. What matters is that you’re safe and happy.” I buried my face against her shoulder. Tears fell. Grandma was all I had left. That evening, Dominic showed up at my door, furious. “Where the hell were you? Serena waited all night for her medication!” “Traffic was bad. Couldn’t make it before closing.” “Traffic?” His voice rose. “It’s a fifteen-minute drive! Elara, did you do this on purpose?” “Yes.” I met his glare. He went still, shocked by my answer. His chest heaved. “You—” “Dominic, I’m not one of your pack warriors. And I’m not Serena’s personal servant.” He stared at me, words grinding through clenched teeth. “Fine. Just fine.” “Don’t you dare regret this, Elara.” He slammed the door on his way out. I knew exactly where he was going. To find those application materials. He wouldn’t find them. This time, I was taking control of my own future. My wolf stirred, restless and approving.

The next morning, Serena came to my apartment. Pale face. Red-rimmed eyes. “Elara, please don’t be angry with Dominic. This is all my fault.” Same performance as always. I ignored her, focused on my medical textbook. “I know you don’t like me,” her voice cracked, “but my brother died saving Dominic. It’s only natural he’d want to help me…” “So I have to help too?” I cut her off. She froze. “I… I didn’t mean that. I just hope you can understand him.” “I understand perfectly.” My tone was flat. “That’s why I’m stepping aside.” Serena’s face went white. The door opened. Dominic walked in carrying takeout bags from an expensive restaurant. He saw Serena’s tears and immediately set the bags down, striding over. “What happened?” He glared at me. “Dominic,” Serena grabbed his arm, “it’s not Elara’s fault. I just… thought about my brother.” His expression softened. He patted her hand. “Don’t think about it. I’m here for you now.” He held up the takeout. “I got your favorite. You need to eat.” “I can’t,” Serena glanced at me. “You got this for Elara, didn’t you?” “She can get her own food. You need this more.” No room for discussion in his voice. I watched them. Thirty years of this act in my previous life. “I don’t need it,” I said. Dominic frowned. “Elara, are you done with this attitude?” “No.” I stood and walked over to him. “Dominic, let’s break the engagement.” Silence filled the room. Serena stared at me, shocked. Dominic’s face darkened. “What did you just say?” “I said, let’s break the engagement.” I repeated clearly. “You care about her so much—why not make her your Luna instead?” “Smack!” The slap landed hard across my face. Burning pain. “Elara, say that again!” Fury blazed in his eyes. I touched my stinging cheek and smiled. “Make her your Luna.” He raised his hand again. “Stop!” Grandma rushed from the kitchen, her cane tapping sharply as she stepped between us. “Dominic Gray, how dare you hit her!” “Mrs. Rose, stay out of this!” His eyes were wild. “She’s lost her mind!” “I’m perfectly clear.” I stepped out from behind Grandma. “Dominic, this engagement is over.” I turned and walked to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. Outside, Dominic’s shouts mixed with Grandma’s pleading. I leaned against the door, my whole body shaking. That slap woke me up completely.

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I was Selena’s bed substitute. Every day, I slept with her mate in her place. Because Selena was too weak to endure Kane’s roughness, she forced me to sleep with him for her. But when the three-year term was over, she still wanted to keep controlling me. So she tried to force me into a mate bond with a fool. To survive, I begged Kane in bed to give me a status. But he only said carelessly, “You’re Selena’s maid who came with her when she married me. If I make you my Concubine, wouldn’t that embarrass her?” I closed my eyes in despair. Everyone knew how deeply Kane loved Selena. The next day, I went to the Luna and begged her to let me form a mate bond with the dying heir of the Alpha King, even if it meant I would be a widow for the rest of my life. The Luna was deeply moved. “Good girl, have you really thought this through?” I knocked my forehead to the floor. “I will never regret it.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Kane and Selena’s faces turn deathly pale. … Kane came to Selena’s room again. After a short round of teasing, the lights in the room went out. Selena walked out, and I pushed the door open and went in. The moment I entered, Kane pulled me into his arms. He lowered his head and gently smelled my scent. “Your scent still smells better.” Werewolves had sharp noses. Every night, I took medicine to make myself smell like Selena. Before I could answer, he picked me up and took me hard for the entire night. After Kane fell asleep, I quietly slipped away and went to another room to report to Selena. I had to tell Selena clearly what positions Kane and I had used last night, what words we had said, and then, under Selena’s hateful stare, I would be brutally punished by the servants at her side. All the scars were on my arms, so no one would ever see them. After Selena finished venting her anger, she would lie back beside Kane. And I would endure the pain and continue serving as a maid during the day. But this time, Kane, who usually slept very deeply, woke up. He lifted a strand of Selena’s long hair and joked, “Where did you go just now? Don’t tell me someone swapped places with you for a while.” When I heard that, my heart jumped. A chill ran through my whole body. But Selena reacted quickly. She immediately threw herself into Kane’s arms and acted spoiled. “Then smell me. My scent hasn’t changed.” I let out a silent breath of relief and quietly left.

Selena was a rare beauty, but her body was weak. Among the wolf race, where strength was worshipped, no one wanted to form a mate bond with her. Except Kane. At the Moonshadow Banquet, Kane fell in love with her at first sight. Soon after, he began courting her. They loved each other. As Selena’s personal maid, I came with her. But after the marking was done, when it was time for them to truly be together, Selena could not endure Kane’s roughness and fainted on the spot. It happened three nights in a row. Selena was afraid Kane would abandon her because of this. So every night, after the lights went out, she made me, whose voice and figure were close to hers, pretend to be her and sleep with Kane. Because of that, I had to take the scent-changing medicine every night. The side effects were terrible. Every time I took it, the pain felt like needles stabbing through my body. But even then, I still had to satisfy Kane in bed and make sure he was pleased. Selena promised me that I only needed to replace her for three years. Once her body recovered, she would give me a sum of money and send me away from the royal city. But she used my younger sister’s life to threaten me. I had no choice but to obey. After dawn, I went back to my room, changed my clothes, and went to serve Selena and Kane breakfast. Kane stared at me. “Why do you always wear such strange clothes?” No matter if it was hot or cold, I always wore a high-necked long dress. Because Kane always loved leaving marks on my body. Those marks could not be seen by him during the day. I pressed my lips together nervously, not knowing how to answer. Selena gently pushed him. “Kane, have you forgotten? Ayla is mute. She can’t speak.” Selena was afraid Kane would suspect me if he heard me speak during the day, so she made me pretend to be mute. Kane raised an eyebrow, seemingly interested. “This mute girl is quite pretty. Her figure also looks very similar to yours.” Selena’s face darkened. “What? Have you taken a liking to her?” She glared at me. There was killing intent hidden in her eyes, as if she wanted to skin me alive. Kane laughed. “What nonsense are you saying? I only like you. Look at how you bit me last night. That was the first time you made me feel so satisfied.” He pulled open his clothes and revealed the teeth marks on his shoulder. My whole body froze. Last night, he had been too rough. I cried and begged him to stop, but that only excited him more. In panic and anger, I bit him. I had not told Selena that detail. I never expected Kane to mention it. I lowered my head in terror. Sure enough, the moment Kane left, Selena poured a cup of scalding hot tea over me and cursed, “You bitch. How dare you bite Kane? Are you trying to challenge my position, or are you trying to let Kane know you exist?” Before I could explain, she had people tie up my hands and feet and drag me to the basement. She gave me no water and no food. Kane had to inspect the border for five days and did not need me. That was why Selena dared to lock me up. When I was starving and barely alive, my younger sister, Leah Winter, bribed the guard at the door and brought me a bowl of soup. “Sister, how did you anger Selena? I just went to beg her, but she refused to see me.” Leah lay by the crack of the door, looking at my weak body. She cried so hard her heart almost broke. “I’ll go beg her again. As long as she agrees to let you out…” I did not have the strength to answer. I only asked her, “When will Kane come back?” “Tonight.” “That’s good.” Then Selena would let me out soon. Because she still needed me. I endured the burning pain in my stomach and continued asking, “Has anything happened in the manor recently?” Leah thought for a moment. “The Alpha King’s heir, Lucius, has gotten even worse. The healer said he might die soon. The Luna wants to find someone to form a mate bond with him and leave behind his bloodline. But because the woman has to swear that she will never form a mate bond with another wolf again, no one is willing.” Lucius. Kane’s older brother. He was the true heir of the Alpha King. When he was young, he was brave and powerful. But a few years ago, he was injured, and since then, his body had become weak. Now he did not have much time left. After he died, the future Alpha King would only be Kane. Although no one said it openly, every wolf in the manor knew Kane and Lucius had a bad relationship. So in order not to offend the future Alpha King, no one was willing to form a mate bond with Lucius. Not to mention, they would have to stay unmated for the rest of their life. No one wanted to become a widow. Soon, Selena let me out. She had food prepared for me, but her face was still full of disgust. “This time was only a small lesson. You’d better behave from now on.” I silently knocked my forehead to the floor and begged Selena to let me leave. “You said back then that it would only be three years. Now the three years are over. I want to leave the royal city. Please let me go.” “No!” Selena refused angrily. “My body has not recovered yet. Kane still can’t do without you.” Seeing that I was determined, she threatened me. “If you dare to leave, I’ll kill Leah. I’m sure you don’t want to see your sister suffer like that.” I knelt on the ground. It felt as if I had been thrown into an ice cave. I was shaking from the cold. Of course I could not bear it. After all, the reason I agreed to do all of this in the beginning was to protect my young sister. But did that mean I had to pretend to be another woman for the rest of my life? Did I have to be a hidden mistress who could never be seen? Did I have to endure everything that should never have been mine again and again? This life was too terrifying. After a long silence, I heard my teeth chattering. “Then after Kane becomes the Alpha King, can I become his Concubine?” The moment I said that, Selena slapped me across the face. “Dream on! In this life, you can only be a substitute who can never be seen. If you dare reveal this to Kane, I won’t just kill you. Your sister Leah won’t survive either!” But I did not want to be controlled forever. I did not want to keep damaging my body as someone else’s substitute. I did not want to live every day under threat, terrified that the truth might be exposed, and then be killed by Selena. A life like this was too frightening. I cried and begged, “Selena, I’ve served you since I was a child. Please have mercy on me. I can’t spend my whole life without forming a mate bond with a male wolf…” Before I could finish, Selena interrupted me coldly. “You want to form a mate bond? Fine. The guard at the gate has a son your age. You can form a bond with him.” My whole body instantly went cold. The guard’s son was born mentally impaired. But he was strong, and he loved hitting people. Selena wanted to control me for the rest of my life. When Kane returned to the manor, I was kneeling on the ground in a daze. Selena stood up with a smile. “You’re back. You must be tired after these past few days. This maid broke the cup presented by the wolves of the Western Territory, so I punished her to kneel for half an hour.” Kane walked around me without the slightest concern. His face was full of exhaustion. “How is the matter with my brother going?” Selena sighed. “To form a mate bond with a dying man, and risk offending you, the future Alpha King… no she-wolf would be willing.” Kane frowned. “Then just find someone. Use her family to control her. Offer money or punishment. There will always be a she-wolf who agrees. Mother already dislikes you because you are weak. If you handle this well, she will definitely see you differently.” Selena answered softly.

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Every time my husband, Ethan Sterling, brought a younger woman home, he was considerate enough to bring a younger man for me too. “I need something new. You need company.” He said it as casually as if he were discussing an ordinary business deal. “We both get what we want, Claire. No one gets to judge the other.” For the past three years, I had sent every one of those men away. Until this time, Ethan finally went too far. When he brought the pregnant Chloe back to the villa, he also brought me a hockey player with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. “Chloe got pregnant by accident.” He set down his whiskey, speaking with the patience of a man trying to reason with me. “She doesn’t want the baby to be born illegitimate, so we’ll get divorced for now.” “After the baby is born, I’ll marry you again.” He pointed toward the young man standing beside the fireplace. “Until then, Julian can keep you company. I won’t interfere.” He probably thought I would do what I always did—slip Julian a check and tell him to leave. This time, I didn’t. Instead, I smiled faintly. “Yes.” Ethan paused with the cigar between his teeth. “Claire, what did you just say?” I set down my phone and shifted my gaze from Ethan to Julian. “I said yes.” I looked him over from head to toe. He stood over six feet tall, with short dark-brown hair and deep gray-blue eyes. His lean, powerful body was wrapped in a simple white shirt, yet he looked cleaner than every self-important man in the room. “You’re right. He’s gorgeous,” I said. The smile on Ethan’s face faded, but he said nothing. His mistress, Chloe, instinctively tightened her grip on his arm. “Claire has finally come around. We should be happy for her, shouldn’t we?” “Of course.” He crushed out his cigar, walked over to Julian, and spoke in a teasing, frivolous tone. “Take good care of her tonight.” Then he wrapped an arm around Chloe and took her upstairs. I looked at Julian. The tips of his ears were slightly red, and the lines of muscle beneath his sleeves were beautifully defined. “Are you staying in your dorm tonight, or here?” “Either is fine.” “Then stay with me.” I turned toward the hallway. Behind me, the servants quickly lowered their voices and began whispering. “She’s obviously just putting on a show for Ethan.” “The last time Ethan brought home that football player, she had security throw him out.” “Don’t worry. Claire is hopelessly devoted to Ethan. She’d rather die alone than touch one of Ethan’s hired playthings.” Their words pricked my spine like needles. They weren’t wrong. I had once been too proud, too convinced that my loyalty could preserve something. I had driven away every man Ethan brought home, believing that at least I was cleaner than he was. And what had that gotten me? Ethan’s mistress was pregnant and flaunting it in my face. What had my pride protected? A divorce agreement? An empty marriage bed? Or a house full of people waiting to laugh at me? I opened the second-floor guest room. “We’re here.” Julian stood in the shadowed hallway, his tall frame half-swallowed by the darkness. I stumbled. A strong arm caught me. “Careful.” I caught the faint scent of mint on him. His hot breath brushed my neck. My back pressed against the heated chest beneath his shirt—and against the hard, rapid beat of his heart. He was nervous. This time, Ethan really had spared no expense. Julian Hart, a former college hockey star, a scholarship student at Columbia Law School, and already holding an offer from a top firm after graduation. He wasn’t some male model Ethan had picked up from a bar, but his face and body were better than any model’s. His handsome features were clean-cut and still carried a trace of youthful innocence. “Did you really come for the money?” “Yes.” His answer was immediate. He didn’t try to defend himself. The old me would have laughed coldly, asked how much he wanted, and paid him to leave. Back then, I had stood on moral high ground as though one touch from him would contaminate me. Yet all the people I had called “unclean” had left. Ethan never came back. Looking at it now, which of them had ever been dirtier than my husband? “Tell the housekeeper if you need anything.” I turned and walked farther into the room. He followed me inside. “My name is Julian,” he said quietly. “I know. Ethan told me.” “I mean…” Julian added softly, “you can do anything you want with me.” I looked at him for a moment, then nodded. “All right. Go shower first.” When I returned to the master bedroom, the divorce agreement Ethan had prepared was sitting on the nightstand. For the past three years, I had turned a blind eye to Ethan’s absurd behavior. Only because something had happened between us three years ago, leaving a rift neither of us knew how to cross. He had his reasons. I had mine. At first, I told him that as long as he didn’t bring those women home, I could tolerate it. Later, I said as long as he didn’t get one of them pregnant, I could still let it go. I yielded step by step. He pushed step by step. Now, perhaps we were both tired of the marriage. There was nothing left to hesitate over. I picked up a pen and signed my name. At that exact moment, the bathroom door opened. Julian stepped out in a white shirt, the ends of his dark-brown hair still damp. The moment he saw me, the tips of his ears turned red again. I looked him over. “Don’t be so shy. Didn’t you say I could do anything I wanted with you?” “Yes.” “Then take off your clothes. Come to my room.”

When Ethan texted me, Julian was sitting on the edge of my bed. My toes rested against the hard lines of his abdomen. He massaged my calf, his fingertips gliding over my skin like a faint electric current. Go to bed early, Ethan wrote. I stared at those three words and found them ridiculous. He had never cared what time I went to sleep before. Why remember now? Because Julian had stayed? Or because he had finally realized that the woman he believed would never touch anyone else might truly walk into another man’s arms? Ethan and his mistress were staying in the guest room beside the master bedroom. My lover was in my bed. This villa, worth tens of millions of dollars, had become an exquisitely decorated landfill. Anyone could live here. I ignored Ethan’s pointless message and crooked a finger at Julian. Julian moved over me, his lean, powerful body pressing mine into the mattress. I heard his soft breathing against my ear. His kisses landed on my forehead, my cheek, and then my lips. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my body rising and falling with his movements. He moved inside me with strength, yet when he lowered his head to kiss me, he was gentle. His deep eyes held mine. “Claire, tell me anytime if you want me to change positions.” My rising body heat was the only answer I gave him. Ethan thought I was still the same Claire I had always been. He thought I wouldn’t dare. That I never would. That I would preserve my so-called loyalty forever. He was wrong. The next morning, my lower back was still sore when I went downstairs. Julian was in the kitchen helping the housekeeper prepare breakfast. The moment he saw me, the spatula nearly slipped from his hand. I smiled. The man who had whispered, “You can do anything you want with me,” and seemed to possess endless strength last night was suddenly shy again this morning. A moment later, Ethan came downstairs. He sat across from me and lifted his coffee. “You’re up early.” He glanced at Julian, then looked at me with an amused smile. “How was last night?” Before I could answer, several people suddenly entered the villa. Mason and a group of Ethan’s friends burst in. “Ethan, who won?” “I bet Julian wouldn’t last until breakfast. Five hundred thousand dollars.” “I bet she threw him out last night. Three-to-one odds, with Ethan holding the book—” Their voices cut off. The moment they saw me, their excitement turned to embarrassment. “Good morning, Claire.” Ethan sipped his coffee leisurely, as though his friends betting on our marriage were something to be proud of. “Sit down.” Then I looked at Julian. “You should go to class.” Julian paused, untied the apron, picked up his coat, and left. As soon as the door closed, Mason lowered his voice and laughed. “See? She threw him out after all.” Someone else said, “Ethan knew it. Claire was only putting on a show.” “A wife should be like Claire. She knows her limits, and she knows how to protect her place.” At those words, Ethan visibly relaxed, faint satisfaction settling over his features. I drew a breath and stepped out of the dining room. At the same moment, Ethan spoke. “Come with me to dinner at the Westchester estate tonight.” “At two this afternoon,” I said, “meet me at the law firm to sign the divorce papers.”

The living room went silent. I placed the signed agreement on the table. “Let’s take care of this first.” Ethan froze for a second, his gaze falling on my signature. I knew what he was thinking. The old me would have torn the agreement apart and demanded through red-rimmed eyes how he could decide to divorce me so easily. Without several rounds of fighting and emotional tug-of-war, we never would have reached the signing stage. But this time, I only looked at him. “Are you coming at two or not?” Ethan leaned lazily back in his chair. “What’s the rush? Didn’t we agree to wait until Chloe’s pregnancy was stable?” “I can’t wait.” Last night, after we had finished, I had lain in Julian’s arms and asked, “I’m done treating this like a game. If I leave Ethan for good, would you want something real with me?” Disbelief flashed across Julian’s face, joy hidden deep in his eyes. He placed my hand against his burning chest. “I’ve wanted something real with you from the moment I walked through that door. But are you really going to divorce Mr. Sterling?” I nodded. “Yes.” Now, the atmosphere in the living room had frozen solid. Ethan still thought I was joking. “Claire, what’s the rush? Are you still half asleep?” “You’d better sign before I change my mind.” Chloe came down the stairs with both hands protectively over her stomach. “Claire, don’t be angry. I just don’t want the media calling my baby illegitimate the moment it’s born.” Her eyes turned red, making her look delicate and pitiful. “The divorce can wait until the pregnancy is stable. Really. I don’t want to force you.” She sounded as though she were more reluctant to end my marriage than I was. Ethan glanced at her, and his expression turned cold. The one thing he could never tolerate was anyone thinking he lacked the courage to face the consequences of his actions. “You think I’m afraid to sign?” He picked up a fountain pen. Mason spoke immediately. “Ethan, don’t do anything reckless.” “Shut up.” Ethan bent over and signed, then threw the pen heavily onto the table. “Everyone here can bear witness. Once the baby is born, Claire and I will remarry.” He stood, leaned close to my ear, and spoke with confident intimacy. “You’re the woman I dragged back from the edge of death.” “What man out there could possibly compare to me? You don’t want anyone but me anyway.” “And you’ll raise this child after it’s born. You’re the only woman fit to be Mrs. Sterling.” I gave a soft laugh. So this was what he called love. I didn’t answer. I picked up the suitcase I had packed long ago and walked out of the villa. Behind me, Chloe asked softly, “What if she really doesn’t come back?” Ethan held an unlit cigar between his fingers and fell silent for a moment. “Claire can’t live without me. She just needs time to cool down.” His expression relaxed. “Once Chloe gives birth, Claire will beg me to remarry her. Want to bet?” His original plan had been for us to keep living together after the divorce. He believed I would remain in the villa, obediently continue acting as his wife, and wait for him to resolve the issue of the child. But I truly left. That was clearly outside his expectations. Even so, he still believed the outcome would not change. “Once your baby is born, my wife’s place goes back to Claire,” Ethan told Chloe. Chloe was far more intelligent than the women Ethan had brought home before. She never sent me taunting messages. She never called to show off that Ethan was beside her. She always seemed innocent and fragile, which made Ethan constantly worry that I would bully her. I had seen women younger, prettier, and far more brazen than Chloe. They were always too eager to drive me out. Only Chloe never fought openly. She moved into my home with a pregnant belly, calling me “Claire” in an affectionate tone, as though we were the best of friends. Still, I should have thanked her for making my decision easier. At one fifty that afternoon, I sat in the conference room of a family-law firm on Park Avenue. I called Ethan for the ninth time. He finally answered. “Where are you?” “I’m with Chloe at a prenatal appointment.” His voice was careless. “The doctor added a few tests at the last minute. I’ll come over when we’re finished.” “We agreed on two.” “The divorce papers aren’t going to grow legs and run away.” He spoke as though soothing an unreasonable child. “We’ll deal with it after Chloe’s appointment.” He hung up. Wait again. For years, I had always been waiting for him. Waiting for meetings to end. Waiting for him to come home from parties. Waiting for him to tire of some woman. Waiting for him to remember he still had a wife. I had cried before. I had made scenes. In the end, one impatient “stop making a fuss” from him was always enough to make me stay. But today, I no longer needed him to reward me by offering not to divorce me. The lawyer entered the conference room. “Mrs. Sterling, would you like to continue waiting for your husband?” I placed my phone facedown on the table. “No.” “Prepare the uncontested divorce filing. If he refuses to cooperate, we’ll proceed with litigation.” “I’ll send you all the financial documents tonight.” The lawyer nodded. “Understood.” For the first time, I realized that stopping the wait was not nearly as difficult as I had imagined.

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On the day my father,Adrian Greywood,was confirmed as the Alpha heir of the northern Greywood Pack,he tore up his future Luna vow with my mother in front of everyone and demoted her to an Omega. And Lily,the personal maid who had disrespected my mother again and again,became the future Luna. From then on,Mom became Lily’s scapegoat. At the elders’banquet,Lily said the Beta families were nothing but a bunch of stubborn old bones. So Dad punished Mom by making her kneel before the stone steps of the Packhouse,holding a red-hot wolf crest in her hands until the elders’banquet ended. “You failed to stop the future Luna and caused her to say the wrong thing.You deserve to be punished.” After Mom’s palms were burned raw,she asked Dad to return the moonstone pendant they had exchanged when they made their mate vow. Lily kept misreading the prayers to the Moon Goddess. So Dad punished Mom by making her kneel beside the altar and copy the Pack law code a hundred times. “You failed to teach her properly.You deserve to be disciplined.” The night the silver wound on Mom’s wrist flared up again,she asked Dad to return the obsidian ring from their bonding ceremony. Then,during the moonlit hunt,Lily stole prey from another Pack and startled the current Luna’s youngest pup badly enough to injure him. When the Alpha was about to punish her severely,Dad,red-eyed,begged my mother,who was pregnant with a wolf pup,to take the silver lash for Lily. “Lily was only afraid of losing.She didn’t mean it.Take the punishment for her.” “I promise,this is the last time.I’ll make it up to you properly from now on.” Mom did not cry the way she used to.She accepted it calmly. When the pup in her belly dissolved into bloody water,I saw a blurred dark-red rose mark rise on her wrist. It was a mark I had never seen before. Mom looked at that mark and said softly, “Nora,when the marks becomes completely clear,Mommy will return to our real home.” … Servants carried basin after basin of bright-red bloody water past me. I did not know what that blood rose meant.I only knew Mom’s body was getting colder and colder. I clutched Mom’s hand. “Mommy,Nora doesn’t want you to die!You said you would stay with me while I grew up!” She smiled at me.There was no pain left in her eyes. “Mommy isn’t dying.Mommy is going home.” I trembled. “Mommy,we haven’t had a home for a long time.” Back then,Mom had pitied Lily and brought her here from the Bennett family when she married. But Lily accused the Bennetts of mistreating her. So,to vent Lily’s anger,Dad framed the Bennett family for secretly colluding with the Greywood Pack’s sworn enemy,the Blood Moon Pack. He had only meant to scare Mom.He had not expected Lily to accidentally leave the forged secret letter in the council hall. The Alpha was furious and ordered the execution of the entire Bennett family,who had served three generations of Greywood Alphas. Mom and I begged Dad to explain. But Dad said Lily had always been lowborn,and after she became future Luna,the elders all looked down on her. If they found out he had forged evidence for Lily,every elder would decide Lily was a burden dragging down the Alpha heir. Because of that,Dad admitted with his own mouth that the Bennett family had colluded with an enemy Pack. The Bennetts had once poured all their strength into helping him secure his place as heir.In the end,all of them were dragged onto the judgment platform. Carl,who used to let me ride on his shoulders to look at the moon,Anna,who made my little cloaks,and countless warriors and wolf pups all died. Mom broke down.She cut her wrist open with a silver blade,wanting to let all her blood drain away. But Dad held me in his arms and threatened her,forcing her to survive. I threw myself onto Mom. “I don’t want Mommy to leave.I don’t want the last person who loves me to leave too.” The moment I finished speaking,a tall shadow fell over us from behind. Dad lifted me onto his lap,stroked Mom’s cold cheek,and looked at her with eyes full of pain. “Evelyn,I know you blame me for not protecting our pup,but no matter how angry you are,you can’t use death to frighten Nora.” “I brought some things.You and Nora can see if there is anything you like.” Dad was always like this. After he did something wrong,he used whatever Lily had already picked through to compensate us. Mom did not even look.She only stared at the wrist guard on his arm. “I want that.” Dad froze for a moment,displeased. “You braided this for me yourself on the night I shifted for the first time.” Mom’s eyes were empty. “I gave it to the mate who loved me most.You are not him anymore,so I want it back.” Dad’s arms trembled around me,and his voice went hoarse. “Evelyn,I know I’ve wronged you both.But Lily has no inner wolf,and other wolves have bullied her.She’s too fragile,and she won’t accept my help.I made her future Luna only to save her.” “Evelyn,you are the only one I love.” Dad said that every time. But even I could tell Dad was not doing it to save Lily. He had simply fallen for her.

Mom used to say that one day,I should find a mate who knew how to respect me. Someone like Dad,who would make her pancakes in the morning,brush her hair for her,and give her the best prey and the warmest shawl. But after Lily came here,he gave Lily the moonlight perfume Mom loved. He also gave Lily the maple-leaf brooch Grandma had left Mom. I knew he did not love Mom anymore. “I only want this.” Mom’s hand trembled,but she insisted on asking for the wrist guard. Dad still would not give it. Not until Lily’s people came. “Heir Adrian,Lady Lily has been terrified by a nightmare.She begs you to go see her.” The next second,Dad shoved me aside so hard that I hit the fireplace. He immediately rose to leave,but Mom clutched the hem of his clothes and would not let go. “Give me the wrist guard.” The maid kept urging him.Dad sighed helplessly and threw the wrist guard onto the bed. He even took away every healer in Mom’s room. Mom had lost so much blood,and the bleeding still had not stopped. I wanted to beg him to leave one healer behind. But Mom held my hand. “Be good,Nora.Mommy is fine.” The way Mom used to care for me,I blew gently on the wound on her belly. At last,she closed her eyes to rest. But then Dad came in again,bringing Lily with him. “Lily wants blueberry ice cream,the kind she once ate at the Bennett estate.” “Now the Bennett family only has you left,Evelyn.Go make it.” Mom’s voice was very soft. “I have just lost my pup and am covered in blood.I’m afraid I might ruin the heir and future Luna’s good mood.” Lily bit her lip and knelt on the floor. “This is all my fault.I hurt Evelyn’s pup,and I caused the Bennett family to die.” Dad helped her up with aching tenderness. But when he looked at Mom,his eyes instantly turned cold and hard. He yanked Mom out of bed. “When you talk like that,Lily will think you hate her.She has no wolf.She’s sensitive and fragile.It’s only a dessert.Can’t you be a little more sensible?” Seeing the pain on Mom’s face,I stepped in front of them. “Dad,Mommy doesn’t feel well.Nora can make it!” But Mom pushed me behind the old maid. She looked at Dad coldly and laughed. “So this is your compensation?How disgusting.” Dad panicked for a second,but in the end,he said nothing. The ice cream was not carried to the table until noon the next day. I went to find Mom and found her lying motionless on the floor,her dress covered in blood. I ran crying to Dad. He was feeding Lily the ice cream. “Dad,Mommy is bleeding so much.She’s going to die!” Dad’s expression changed,and he got up to leave. But Lily grabbed him,her eyes red. “Adrian,Evelyn must be angry because she had to make dessert for an Omega like me.She only wants to make you feel sorry for her.” “It was my fault anyway.Go to her.I’ll clean myself up and apologize to Evelyn.” In an instant,anger entered Dad’s eyes. He slammed his hand hard on the table. “She’s spoiled by my favor.She has always tolerated pain better than anyone.It was only one lost pup.What’s there to make such a fuss about?” He pointed at me. “And you.At such a young age,she has already taught you to lie with tricks like this.Disgusting.Go back and tell her I’m busy.If she likes acting so much,let her put on the show by herself all night.” Before,if Mom’s hand was only burned red,Dad would be frantic with worry. How had it become like this? I cried and knelt at Dad’s feet. “I’m not lying.Mommy really fainted!I heard the healer say she would die.She really will die.Dad,please go look at her!” “Get out!” Dad kicked me away. I hit the leg of a chair.My back hurt so much,and my forehead hurt too.Blood ran into my eyes. But the father who used to cry with fear whenever I had a fever did not look at me again. He picked Lily up and casually ordered the guards, “Enough.Take Nora back.Without my permission,she is not allowed to step out of her room again.” I soon passed out. When I woke again,I was already in the eastern manor,and there was noise outside. As soon as I stepped out,I saw Mom kneeling on the ground,her face deathly pale. Lily was crying in Dad’s arms. “Evelyn,I know you hate me,but why did you put wolfsbane in the ice cream?If I hadn’t only eaten a little,I might never have been able to bear pups.”

Mom swayed where she knelt,unable even to stay upright. “It wasn’t me.” Lily pounded Dad’s shoulder,crying even harder. “Adrian,you have to help me!Last night you said you wanted me to give you a whole litter of beautiful little wolf pups!” Dad frowned,as if hesitating. I rushed over. “It wasn’t Mommy!Last time,Lily said Mommy didn’t know gratitude because she refused to drink spoiled meat broth,and punished her by cutting off half a year’s supplies.” “We can’t even trade for fresh herbs,let alone wolfsbane!” Dad’s face turned ugly. “When did that happen?How could anyone eat spoiled meat broth?” Lily froze,then looked at Dad in grievance. “Are you saying I punished her wrongly?When I was little,I ate so many spoiled things in the kitchen,and I still survived just fine.” “I know you think I’m dirty and deserve to be poisoned.You don’t want to stand up for me,so you keep finding fault with me!” “If that’s how it is,then I don’t want the future Luna position at all!” Dad pulled her back and kissed her forehead the way he used to kiss Mom and me. “Don’t say things in anger.You are my mate.Whatever you say is the truth.” “Handle it according to Pack law.Omega Evelyn poisoned the future Luna.Drag her to the training ground and give her twenty strokes of the silver lash.” Before,Dad would never punish Mom after only a few words from someone else. But Lily was not pleased. “I know.I was born low,and my life is worth nothing.Thank you for your mercy,Heir Adrian.I just wonder whether more people will poison me in the future!” Dad sighed. “Then what does Lily want?I’ll do whatever you want,all right?” Lily looked at him with reddened eyes. “She fed me wolfsbane.She should taste it herself.” Dad looked at her tearful eyes and barely hesitated. “Fine.Then force wolfsbane down her throat and make her remember this lesson.” Mom gave a bitter laugh. “Adrian Greywood,I truly regret choosing you.” Dad looked at the emptiness in Mom’s eyes and seemed to panic. He walked over,but he did not help her up.His voice dropped very low. “I know Lily set you up because she feels insecure and doesn’t want you to give birth to an heir before she does.” “But I can’t embarrass her in public and make her lose the authority of the future Luna.” “I’ll have them switch the wolfsbane for a blood tonic.We once agreed we would have both sons and daughters.I won’t let anything happen to you.Trust me.” After saying that,he left with Lily without looking back. Mom was fed three large bowls of bitter medicine. But before long,she was curled up on the ground in pain,and blood stained the stone path red. “Mommy!You’re bleeding!Why is this happening?” No matter how I pressed my hands over it,I could not stop the speed of her bleeding. I hurried to get up and find Dad. But Mom held me back. The blood-rose mark on her wrist was becoming clearer and clearer,bright red as blood. She cried. “It’s all right.Mommy is all right.Don’t beg him.Mommy doesn’t have many days left here.Going to him won’t help.” “Mommy only wants to look at you properly.Does yesterday’s wound still hurt?Mommy is sorry.I didn’t protect you,and I didn’t put medicine on you in time.Don’t blame Mommy,all right?” I cried so hard I could barely breathe. “Mommy,I’m not hurt.Nora isn’t hurt.Nothing will happen to you.I’ll go get the healing potion grandfather left for us.It will save you!” I rushed to the storeroom for the potion,only for the steward to tell me that the last bottle had just been taken by Dad to help Lily recover her health. My legs went weak,but I still rushed to the hall. “Dad,you lied!You said Mommy would be fine!You lied!” He glanced at me and seemed about to rise,but after murmuring a few words to Lily,he closed the door. No matter how I pounded on it,the door stayed tightly shut. The guards threw me out of the manor again.I looked at Mom,who had passed out,and hugged her body as it lost its warmth. “Mommy,don’t leave Nora.What can I do to save you?” Mom gripped my hand,her eyes full of tears and reluctance. “Stay with Mommy for one more night.The last night.”

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