Category: English

My name is Penny Wilson. A decade into my marriage, the house itself began to reject me. When I came home from work, the smart lock refused to open, no matter what. Yet my husband, Rod Becher, opened it with a single touch. The stove wouldn’t light when I turned the knob, but ignited instantly for him. Every light I switched on flickered and died within seconds. My side of the bed grew colder with each passing night. Our clothes in the wardrobe twisted themselves into impossible knots. When I reached for ice water, the dispenser shot out boiling liquid instead, blistering my hand in an instant. Even the sofa, perfectly sturdy moments before, collapsed beneath my weight, shattering my shin. In desperation, I wanted to replace everything. But Rod ran his hands through his hair, distressed. “We’ve already replaced half this house once, Penny. Doing it again will bankrupt us.” My mother-in-law, Jennifer Becher, rapped her knuckles against the table. “There’s nothing wrong with any of it. Stop taking your stress out on the furniture.” Even our son, Devin Becher, pointed an accusing finger at me. “Mom, you make such a racket every single day. Please just be quiet and let me finish my homework.” With no other choice, I endured it. But day by day, my nerves frayed, until one missed step on the stairs sent me crashing down. My head struck the floor with a sickening crack. Before my last breath, desperation washed over me. Why was my life such a misery? Did our house have a mind of its own? But why? What had I done to deserve this? When I opened my eyes again, I found myself transported back to the very day of our tenth wedding anniversary. After work, I stood before the door, punching in the code over a dozen times with no success. When Rod arrived with Devin, he pressed the buttons once. The lock clicked open immediately. “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it? You must have entered the wrong code.” I couldn’t believe it, so I shut the door and tried again. The lock remained sealed. “Never mind, honey. Just get inside. It’s freezing out here.” As he reached for the handle, I caught his wrist. “Wait. Devin, you try.” Devin rolled his eyes, pouting with impatience. His fingers moved lazily across the keypad. “See? Can I do my homework now?” Something cold settled in my stomach. I turned away, heading straight for the kitchen, and twisted the stove knob. Not even a spark. After several frustrated minutes, Rod walked in to start dinner. The flame roared to life the moment he touched it. “I’ll cook tonight. You need some rest.” Fine. I retreated to the bedroom and threw open the wardrobe. Our clothes hung in perfect, pristine rows. It was all happening exactly as before. In my previous life, the problems had only multiplied after I’d replaced the lock and stove. So, should I replace them now? I didn’t think so. Rod could handle the door and the cooking anyway. This time, I would find out why this house hated me, and I would live. “Dad, your cooking is way worse than Mom’s.” Devin made a face at dinner, spitting out a barely-chewed bite onto his plate. Rod tapped his head lightly. “Hey, kiddo, I didn’t raise you to be such a picky eater.” But the next moment, Rod’s expression soured. He spat something onto his plate, half a small green worm. Calmly, I fished two jagged pieces of eggshell from the scrambled eggs. “Honey… I guess I’ll have to leave our meals to you after all.” Rod poked suspiciously at his plate before taking a cautious bite. “You know, we’ve had that stove for years now. It’s old. And the lock, too. Let’s just replace them both.” “But they work perfectly fine for you and Devin. It’s only me they don’t work for.” I didn’t agree readily. Last time, I had been the one to insist on replacements, unable to stand another day of his terrible cooking. But this time, I’d said nothing. Yet here he was, suggesting it first. Was he behind this? Still, I agreed in the end. The technician was scheduled for a time I’d normally be at work, so I requested leave. “You need time off to wait for an appliance repair? Do you think this is a daycare center?” My supervisor, Colin Buck, slammed his coffee mug down. He refused outright. Yet when I finally got home, the technician had just arrived. “You wanted to oversee it yourself, so I had him reschedule for later,” Rod explained. His eyes held that patient warmth I’d fallen in love with years ago. For a moment, I felt a pang of guilt for suspecting him. Ten years of marriage. He’d been a perfect husband. Given my difficult background, he had always been patient with me, and we rarely fought. He’d been the primary caregiver after Devin was born. And seeing how difficult my delivery had been, he’d even convinced his parents to drop their relentless pressure for a second child. By the time the technician finished his work, darkness had fallen outside. I suggested we eat out. After a warm meal, we walked home carrying drinks, and for the first time in what felt like ages, something like peace settled over me. I hadn’t felt this relaxed in what seemed like a lifetime. In my previous life, I’d been perpetually on edge, waiting for the next disaster. At least tonight, I could shower and sleep in peace, I told myself. Tomorrow’s trouble was for tomorrow. But when I opened the wardrobe, my breath caught in my throat. The clothes were tangled into a snarled mess, exactly like before. Panic rising, I rushed to the kitchen and twisted the gas stove knob with trembling fingers. It sputtered weakly, but refused to ignite. Rod had opened the door when we’d arrived home earlier. Recalling that, I ran outside and slammed the door shut behind me. With deliberate care, I entered the code. The lock refused to open. The nightmare was back.

“Penny, the supervisor is expecting you.” As I walked into Colin’s office on unsteady legs, I flinched at the sharp rap of his knuckles on the desk. “What did you do last night, rob banks? I reviewed an hour of security footage. You were asleep for fifty minutes of it!” I kept my head down, swallowing the shame and frustration that rose in my chest. “It won’t happen again, sir.” He took a slow, deliberate sip of coffee, his heavy-lidded gaze weighing me. “Let’s hope so. Because next time, you’ll be packing your things. This company doesn’t carry dead weight.” Back at my desk, I fought to keep my eyes open and work. The night before, my side of the bed had grown icy cold, so cold that two extra blankets had done nothing against it. I’d dragged them to the sofa instead, but the moment I lay down, the support beneath my waist gave way. Luckily, I was braced for it and grabbed the backrest. Otherwise, I would’ve fallen and broken a bone, just like last time. After a while, feeling better, I’d switched on the light to pour myself some water. Once again, the bulb barely flickered before dying. Under my phone’s flashlight, I got near the water dispenser. I’d filled half a cup with hot water, then pressed the cold tap. But what poured out sent ribbons of steam curling into the air. If I had drunk it without thinking or spilled it, I’d have been scalded all over again. In the end, I’d left the cup on the nightstand to cool and crawled back into bed. My nerves were too frayed for sleep, and the water had sat untouched eventually. No one could understand my situation. My boss was unreasonable, yes, but I was lucky to have such a job at my age. And for that very reason, I didn’t dare talk back at him. The good thing was that it was Friday. After work, I’d finally have time to dig deeper into whatever was happening to me. “Honey, what are you doing?” Rod was confused as he watched me lift the mattress, scissors in hand. I was done living in fear, just waiting to fall to my death. I had to find the cause. The scissors bit into the fabric, and I tore a slit along the edge. Inside, just ordinary latex foam. Disappointment washed over me. Why, then, did it grow colder the longer I lay on it? “Maybe you’re run down. I’ll ask Mom to bring over some soup. You need to rest and eat properly.” I tried to refuse, but Jennifer showed up anyway. She keyed in the code herself, opened the door, and headed straight to the kitchen. Nothing went wrong. “Eat up, Penny. Look at those dark circles under your eyes.” “Thanks, Mom.” In my last life, before I insisted on replacing the furniture for the second time, Jennifer had always treated me like her own daughter. She never held back her thoughts. Now she leaned close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve checked the house. Everything’s fine. But if you keep feeling something’s wrong, maybe it’s something we can’t explain. Should we have a medium come take a look?” I’d never believed in that kind of thing. Last time, I’d refused outright. But after the miracle happened to me, I nodded. The next day, a medium arrived. He moved slowly through each room, one hand trailing along the walls, the other held open at his side as though feeling for something invisible. After he circled the room, he stopped abruptly and turned to face me. His eyes settled on me and didn’t move. My heart dropped into my stomach. Was he about to blame everything on me? I never should have agreed to this. Jennifer stepped forward, her face pale with worry. “Sir, please — what do you sense?” “Don’t rush. What finds you was drawn by what surrounds you.” He extended one finger, pointing just past my shoulder. “There’s a heavy presence attached to you, ma’am. Something bitter. Unresolved.” A chill crawled down my spine. I grabbed Rod’s arm, my voice shaking. “What is it? Does it mean us harm?” “You were supposed to be abandoned, yet somehow, you managed to become a wife, enjoying ten years of comfort. That’s why this is happening to you.” He shook his head slowly, his expression grave. Then he turned his gaze directly on me. “If you don’t walk away from this marriage within one month, not only you, but your child will suffer the consequences.” After he left, I stared blankly at our wedding photo on the nightstand. These ten years had been happy. And to continue that, I’d endured every hardship of people judging me as an orphan girl who’d married up. Now, however, I was being told to give it all up, even if I’d done nothing wrong. “Don’t think about it. It’s all nonsense.” Rod pulled me into his arms, his voice soft. “You’ll always be my wife. Always.” But from the living room, Jennifer’s voice carried clearly over the phone, and every word hit like a verdict. “Alas, the medium was quite accurate, you know.”

I was raised in an orphanage until I aged out of the system. So that part, at least, was true. I didn’t want to believe the medium. I didn’t want a divorce. But for Devin’s sake, I rented a small apartment near the office. “Do you really have to go this far? Don’t let his words get to you. We’ve made it ten years together…” “That’s enough.” I cut him off. “I’m going in. You should go home.” I got out of the car before he could say another word to shake my resolve. “Just call often, okay? I’ll bring Devin to see you.” Before entering the apartment complex, I couldn’t help myself and glanced back. The rear window was down. Devin sat in the backseat, his eyes red and swollen. When he saw me looking, he turned his face away. I knew my stubborn little boy had a soft heart. I hurried inside the apartment. I actually slept through the night in the rental. My phone rang just after I opened my eyes. Devin called me on Rod’s phone. “Mom, come home!” His voice was bright, hopeful. “I just figured it out. Zoe’s been crawling into your closet! He must’ve tangled all your clothes!” My heart softened despite everything. Zoe was the neighbor’s hairless cat, and Devin adored him, bringing him over from time to time. Maybe the cat really was the culprit. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll be home after work.” “Not bad. Keep it up.” Colin’s voice came from directly behind me. Thank God I’d actually been working this time. At lunch, a coworker leaned across the table. “Everything okay at home, Penny? You looked so down the past few days, but today you’re practically glowing.” “It’s nothing,” I said, but deep inside, I was so relieved. If the cat had caused the mess of the clothes, it wouldn’t be long before I uncovered the root of all that happened to me. After work, I ran into my neighbor, Elvira Yerkes, in the hallway, so I asked casually if Zoe was around. “Oh, he’s been gone for days. My daughter took him to her grandpa’s place in the countryside.” All the strength drained from my body. I couldn’t help but lean against the wall for support. Zoe had been gone for three days. But my clothes had been tangled into a knotted mess in his absence. It wasn’t the right time for me to return home. “Penny! Oh my God, Penny — I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” A woman in her fifties rushed toward me, grabbing my arm. A man about the same age stood behind her. “You’ve got the wrong person.” Not in the mood, I tried to pull free. “No — you’re my daughter!” She yanked my sleeve up past my elbow. “You were born with a small growth right here. Your father fought with the doctors just to get it removed when you were a baby!” Some of the tension left my expression despite myself. “Sweetheart, we searched for so long to find you. Can we go somewhere and talk?” She said it while pressing the back of her hand to her cheek — yet not a single tear glistened there. I brought them back to the apartment and got them some water. “I thought we were close to your house. Why did you bring us here?” I didn’t answer. I just wanted to know why they’d really come. “Listen,” the woman said, setting down her cup with a sharp clink. “We need to be honest with you. Your father’s been sick. The hospital bills have wiped us out completely. We’re in serious debt — close to twenty thousand dollars — and we have no way to cover it.” She leaned forward, her voice softening into something practiced and rehearsed. “You’re family. You’re the only one who can help us right now.” “Get out.” I grabbed a mop from the corner and advanced on them both. I was six or seven when I got lost, old enough to remember what things were really like. One day, Dad came home drunk, same as always. Mom couldn’t take it anymore and dragged me to a grocery store, planning to grab a few things before catching a bus out of town. But the store was packed, and in the chaos, I was separated from her. I wasn’t sure she ever looked for me. I ended up in the foster system and eventually aged out of an orphanage. And now, after all these years, the first thing out of her mouth wasn’t how I’d survived or where I’d been. It was a number — a debt she expected me to pay. No way I’d grant her wish. Rod should have been home by now. I needed to see him, to pour out everything. I reached our doorstep and hesitated. Instinctively, I stood on my toes and peered through the peephole. What I saw made my blood run cold. I covered my mouth to stifle a scream and staggered backward. I saw it. I finally saw it. The real reason the home I’d shared for ten years had turned against me.

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I collapsed in the rain. Soaked to the bone, I curled up like a dying cat on the edge of the slums. My calming brews had worn off, and the Omega scent markers inside me were spiraling out of control. I vaguely heard a car door open. “Is she still alive?” “Breathing, barely. Looks like she hasn’t had any calming brews in a while.” “Bring her back.” The low, commanding voice cut through the storm. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on a warm, unfamiliar bed. “You’re awake?” A deep, magnetic voice reached my ears. I turned my head and met a pair of icy blue eyes. “You…” My voice trembled, hoarse and weak. “You’re… Alpha Ethan?” He didn’t deny it. “Alpha Ethan Foster.” The Alpha of the Foster Pack. A legend. A pureblood Alpha born into power and ruthlessness. “You don’t remember me?” I asked, voice barely a whisper. He glanced at me for a second, then looked away. “I didn’t save you because I know you.” “Then why?” He stood, back straight and cold like a sculpture. “Your blood type is rare. A perfect match for someone I need to save.” My fingers clenched the sheets. “Who?” I already knew. “Luna Chloe.” He said her name quietly, and for the first time, his tone held a trace of warmth. “She’s… everything to me.” I felt my heart shrink. “She’s relapsing. The doctors say she won’t survive two more months without a transplant.” He turned to me, eyes devoid of emotion again. “You’re the only viable donor.” “So you brought me back… for my heart?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he placed a contract on the bed. “What is this?” “A marriage agreement. Sign it, and I’ll give you a wedding and this—” he pulled out a deep blue sapphire necklace and tossed it onto the pillow, “—a Foster heirloom.” I stared at the necklace. Years ago, he once said, “When you’re grown up, I’ll give this to you.” Now, it was Luna Chloe’s. “You want me to marry you… just so you can legally take my heart?” I asked. “I want no delays,” he said flatly. “Sign it, or go back to the slums and die.” “You love her?” My voice was barely audible. “She is everything,” he said simply. I nodded and picked up the pen. “Good,” he said, not even glancing at the signature. “Don’t be late to the ceremony.” The wedding was quick. I wore white. Outside, it drizzled. He stood at the altar with the elegance of a born Alpha. When Luna Chloe entered the chapel, his entire expression softened. I had never seen him look at anyone like that. The priest asked, “Do you take this Omega—” “I do,” Alpha Ethan said gently. Applause. Laughter. Happiness. And me, standing like a ghost among the living. After the ceremony, he approached me, clipped the necklace around my neck with cold fingers, and said, “Keep quiet. Don’t ruin the arrangement.” “I will,” I murmured. “Don’t worry—I won’t beg for anything.” He paused. “Then why are you crying?” I wiped my cheek. “Must be the wind.” The operating room was cold. I lay on the surgical bed, numb. Nurses whispered as they prepped the equipment. “Did you hear? This Omega was specially found by Alpha Ethan. Her blood type is almost extinct.” “Luna Chloe’s so lucky. He even married someone else just to save her.” “And gave her the heirloom necklace too. That’s love.” I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. My chest burned. My vision blurred. And then On the overhead screen, a live wedding broadcast played. Alpha Ethan kissed Luna Chloe under the stained glass window. Their scent markers intermingled like moonlight and fire. My heart stopped on the table. And in my final moment, all I could think of… was that boy from the orphanage who once knelt beside me with a needle and whispered: “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.” Turns out, he wasn’t talking to me after all.

I knew I was dying. The rejection response spread like fire through my veins, tearing me apart from the inside out. My chest throbbed. Every heartbeat felt like a countdown. “Acute rejection onset!” “Massive internal bleeding—she’s crashing!” “calming brews aren’t working, pressure’s falling fast!” Their voices sounded distant, like I was at the bottom of a deep ocean. My limbs were ice. I could no longer lift my eyelids. I wanted to ask—where was Alpha Ethan? He promised he would stay. Promised he would be there when I went into surgery. So… where was he now? On the other side of the city, a grand wedding was underway. The camera panned across white roses, crystal chandeliers, and guests dressed in finery. In the center of it all, Alpha Ethan stood beside his bride, tall and regal in his black suit. His gaze was fixed on her—Luna Chloe. “The ceremony begins,” the priest announced. “Do you, Alpha Ethan Foster, take Luna Chloe Harrison to be your bonded Luna?” “I do,” he said softly, the kind of softness he’d never once used on me. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a familiar object. The Foster pack’s heirloom sapphire necklace. The one he once promised to give me when I came of age. Now he clasped it gently around Luna Chloe’s neck, whispering, “You’re my only Luna.” I lay dying in an ICU bed, watching him declare eternal love to someone else. The nurses beside me were whispering. “She’s so lucky. Alpha Ethan even married another Omega just to get a heart for her.” “He gave her the pack heirloom too. That’s real love.” I wanted to scream. But my throat had closed up. My body no longer obeyed me. I looked at the monitor beside me. It streamed the moment Alpha Ethan leaned down and kissed Luna Chloe. Their scent markers intertwined like fire and starlight. It was beautiful. Perfect. And then, my heart stopped. My pupils dilated, fixating on the image of him kissing her while I died. The last thing I remembered… was the little boy from the orphanage who once said: “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.” Turns out, he wasn’t talking to me after all. But then, something strange happened. I opened my eyes. Sunlight. Warm and blinding. “Miss, you’re awake. The Marcus pack car is waiting outside.” I sat up, heart thudding—strong, steady, but foreign. I ran my fingers along my chest. No scars. No pain. I wasn’t Emily anymore. A mirror reflected a stranger’s face. Sharp cheekbones. Amber eyes. Alpha aura. “You said I’m… who?” “You are Alpha Evelyn Marcus,” the elderly butler said, bowing deeply. “The long-lost Alpha heiress of the Marcus Pack. Missing for sixteen years, now finally returned.” An Alpha. I had been reborn. No longer the poor Omega girl they used and discarded. No longer the weak one begging for affection. I was Alpha Evelyn now. I stood up, smiled faintly. “Then let’s not keep the world waiting.” Somewhere in the city, bells were still ringing from Alpha Ethan’s wedding. But I was no longer the girl dying in a hospital bed. I was the Alpha who had come back from the grave. And this time—I would burn everything down.

The council hall was lit like a coronation chamber. I walked across the red carpet, each step of my heels clicking like a countdown. “Is that… Alpha Evelyn Marcus?” “The long-lost Alpha heiress? She was supposed to be dead.” “Looks insane to me.” Let them talk. I didn’t come back to be silent. Alpha Ethan sat on the high seat, dressed immaculately as always, his gaze sharp as a blade. “Miss Marcus,” he spoke, voice calm but cold. “Is your presence today political… or purely theatrical?” I smiled, pulling a bottle of wine from behind me. “A celebration, of course.” Then I uncorked it and threw the entire glass at his tailored suit. Gasps filled the room. Alpha Ethan’s scent markers flared immediately—pine and blackwood, crashing down like a storm. But I didn’t flinch. I released mine—cold iron and silver fox. The scent sliced through the air like a dagger. He stumbled back. “She’s suppressing his scent markers!” “She’s a top-level Alpha!” I stepped closer. “What’s the matter, Alpha Ethan? Can’t handle a woman who doesn’t bow anymore?” A silver haired man stepped forward, watching me with faint amusement. “Miss Marcus,” he said in a smooth voice, “Alpha Daniel Reyes. Alpha of the Silver Pack.” He extended a hand. “Would you honor me with a dance?” I was about to answer when another presence brushed against my senses. A cool, restrained scent—cedar and snow. An Omega? He passed by me silently, but for one brief moment, our scent markers intertwined. We both stopped. He turned his head slightly. “You are?” “Omega Silas,” he said. “Omega.” For a heartbeat, we simply stared. Alpha Ethan’s expression darkened from across the room. I smiled. So you can discard me like trash but get jealous when others look my way? Later, in the dressing room, I went to change—only to find a stack of old photographs inside the locker. I frowned and pulled one out. A faded picture. Children from the orphanage. There I was—Emily—curled up in the corner with messy hair and too big clothes. On the back of the photo, a child’s handwriting circled one boy in red ink: “I will always love Alpha Ethan.” My throat tightened. I traced the words with my fingertip. I wasn’t Emily anymore. But the girl who once loved him with everything she had… she was still somewhere in here, quietly breaking. “You love her now,” I murmured. “Then don’t you dare look back.” A soft knock broke the silence. I quickly wiped my face and turned. It was Omega Silas. “You again?” He leaned casually against the doorway. “You unleashed a lot of scent markers earlier. Gave me a bit of a headache. Came looking for a calming brew.” I handed him a vial from the cabinet. As he took it, his fingers brushed mine. “You were… sad,” he said softly. I froze. “Omegas are sensitive,” he added. “You can lie with words, not with scent.” I looked at him. His eyes were gentle. Steady. “You can talk to me,” he said. “…Thanks,” I whispered. He smiled, pressing his thumb lightly against my palm—a quiet promise. The door suddenly slammed open behind me. Alpha Ethan. His eyes were like ice. “Am I interrupting something?” I turned, completely calm. “You’re just in time to leave.” That night, I didn’t sleep. The orphanage photo lay beside me on the pillow. You used to love him so much. But now? Now it was his turn—to break.

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I leave the window open on purpose, so the Don of the Castellano family hears every sound I make with another man all night long. By sunrise, Damien appears at my door with a face like a thunderstorm, jaw locked, eyes black. “Got room for one more?” he asks, voice low and dangerous. I just lounge between two pretty boys, one arm draped over each, and give him a flat, dead look. “Thought you only had eyes for your precious college girl now.” His eyes go bloodshot red—but he doesn’t take a single step closer. Because I’m the woman who bled beside him for ten years, who helped him carve Harbor City out of other men’s hands. And he’d rather marry some college girl in a sundress than keep the promise he made to me. His soldiers can’t wrap their heads around it. They actually speak up. “Boss Nova fought for every block you own. She’s the sharpest blade you’ve got. You used to be obsessed with her—what the hell changed?” Damien grinds his cigarette out and twists the silver band on his finger—the matching one Lily wears. “Nova Quinn? A woman with blood up to her elbows? Every time I think about touching her, my skin crawls. How could she ever compare to my girl?” “But Boss—Nova’s smart. If she finds out and breaks with you—” Damien scoffs, cold as ice. “All of Harbor City already belongs to me. What’s one woman? You think my territory’s gonna grow legs and walk off?” He has no idea I’m standing right outside the door. Every word. I drop the bruise balm I brought for him into the trash and pull out my phone. I text Kieran Vance—Damien’s worst enemy in the city. [Damien Castellano’s territory. His life. You want them? They’re yours.] … I’m down at the dock arranging a speedboat off the island when Damien finds me. “Big shipment coming in two nights from now. You handle the pickup yourself. And clear out your beach house—I need it.” He gives the order like I’m one of his men. “The house is for her, right?” His brow knits. “Don’t start. I’m not going public with us because the situation’s unstable—Kieran’s watching every move. I can’t let the boys get sloppy over one woman.” “Right now, your job is getting Kieran off my back.” That’s how he’s always handled me. Gaslight, frame it as protection, send me back to bleed for him. For years I bought it. I broke my body for him, twice as hard. Now it just sounds like a punchline. I slide the boat requisition slip across to him. “I’m not pissed. I’m used to it.” Something flickers in his eyes. Annoyance. He signs so hard the pen tears the paper. “Nova—what’s with the attitude? It’s a damn house. Everything on this island is mine. You’re mine. I don’t need permission.” He throws the slip back in my face. “And stop bothering me with errand-runs off the island. I’m busy.” He thinks I want a shopping trip. I don’t correct him. I nod, push through the door, and head for the dock. Looking at that speedboat with my name on it, I actually smile. Ten years. Ten years I helped him build an empire out of broken bones. We were childhood friends. Brothers in arms. Lovers, too—the kind that would die for each other. Now I finally see it. That was just a story I told myself. A lie he wove out of my own devotion. He’s marrying someone else. That night, a small army of mercenaries escorts Lily Monroe onto the island. White dress, soft curls, wide doe eyes—and a smug little smile she can’t quite hide. “Nova,” she chirps, “you’ve worked SO hard for Damien all these years. So loyal.” “I’ll make him give you a promotion. And I’ll send you some pretty boys—a woman your age can’t keep waiting forever, right?” “Not like Damien. He couldn’t wait one more day. Tomorrow we’re married. Can you believe it?” My fingers curl around the grip of the pistol on my hip. It takes every ounce of training I have not to put a bullet through her teeth. “Move,” I say, cold, and step around her. But she grabs my arm. From her purse she pulls out a leather journal, eyes glittering. “These are the love letters Damien wrote to me all these years, when he missed me. The book’s too heavy to carry around—Could you toss it for me?” She glides off, skirt swaying. I stand at the cliff’s edge, salt wind cutting my face, and open the journal with shaking hands. April 12, last year. The night I shielded him from an ambush, blood pouring out of his side. He’d written: Lily, if I make it out alive, I’ll marry you. August 5, two years back. The night Kieran’s sniper put a round near him on a trip, and I walked into enemy territory alone, two blades in my hands, to drag him out. He’d written: Baby, today the air smelled like you. January 24. The night he got picked up by the cops and I took the charge for him. He’d written: If it were you in that cell, I’d never let you suffer like this. Every line carves a piece out of me. How many times did I beg him to marry me? He’d kiss my forehead: Nova. Wait for me. “I have too many enemies. I have to clear the path first. When I own all of Harbor City—then I’ll marry you. Okay?” I waited. Year after year. My phone buzzes. Kieran’s reply. Two words. [Deal. Done.] I tap the screen, and one more question slips out of me before I can stop it: [August 5. The hit on Damien. That was you, right?] His reply is instant. [Swear to God, that wasn’t me. I was framed.] [You chased me down nine blocks with two machetes over something I didn’t even DO.] I laugh. Out loud. At the dark water. So I was a punchline to both of them. A clown with blood on her hands, playing knight for a man who never even loved me. Fine. There’s nothing left for me here.

Nova’s POV I work out the rest of the pickup details with Kieran and head back toward the compound. That’s when I hear Damien talking to his men by the yacht. “Boss, the bride’s gown came in. We picked it up at that royal auction, just like you wanted—a billion-dollar dress.” “But… we’re worried about Nova. If she blows up, exposes the compound, Kieran could wipe us out in one strike—” Damien doesn’t even hesitate. “I love Lily. She’s the only woman I will ever marry. Tomorrow’s wedding goes off without a single scratch. No mistakes.” “Not even from Nova. I’ll keep her quiet.” “And keep your boys’ mouths shut. Anyone leaks a word, I feed them to the sharks.” I made my peace with leaving. I really did. But hearing the man who once swore he’d die for me reduce me to a problem to manage—it still cuts. The pain sits in my chest like broken glass. Back in my room, I start packing. Passports. IDs. Papers. Cash. I look around. Knives. Pistols. A shotgun under the bed. Ammo cases stacked like books. That’s when it hits me: Damien never gave me anything. Not really. Just weapons. To protect him. Once I asked him for a dress. A necklace. Something soft. He laughed. “Nova, even in a dress and jewels, you don’t look like a woman. Don’t waste them.” But Lily Monroe rolled onto this island with a whole truck of designer dresses and diamonds. So why her, and not me? I dig through the back of my closet. There it is—the red dress I bought years ago and never had the guts to wear. I slip it on. Heels. Lipstick. The works. Right then, Lily kicks the door open like she owns the place. “Nova, you read the journal, right? Damien’s truest feelings are—” She stops mid-sentence. Eyes round. Mouth open. Then her face twists. “I figured at least you had some pride. That you’d slink off quietly once you knew Damien doesn’t love you.” “But you actually think you can seduce him back? You shameless bitch—I’ll claw your face off!” She lunges. She’s got zero training, so I could slap her across the mouth easily before she even lands a hand on me. “Nova! You DARE hit me?! Damien’s going to make you regret this!” she shrieks. I cross my arms and watch her stumble. “Thanks for the compliment, princess. I clean up better than you. That’s the problem.” A second later, she drops to her knees and starts slapping her own face. “Nova—please—I’m trash, I shouldn’t have crawled into Damien’s life—just don’t ruin the wedding, beat me to death if you want—” I haven’t even processed what just happened when a boot comes flying at my ribs. “Nova! Are my words a joke to you?! You’re laying hands on Lily now?!” Damien. If that kick lands, I don’t get up again. So tell me—what am I to him? A guard dog? A punching bag he gets to swing at once she’s done her job? I twist out of the way, but the heel catches and my ankle rolls. Pain shoots up my leg. I bite it back and look him dead in the eye. He scoops Lily up, his gaze ice-cold on me— Then he sees the red dress. Sees my face. His pupils blow wide. For half a second, he forgets to breathe. His voice still comes out frozen. “Nova. Dressed up or not, you’ll never come close to her.” Lily clings to his arm, sniffling. “Damien, she forced me to talk, that’s why I gave her the journal—I’m so sorry—” He pulls her against his chest like she’s made of glass. “It’s nothing. No one’s mad at you, baby.” I laugh under my breath. Bitter. One minute ago he was telling his men they’d swim with sharks if they leaked a word. Now that Lily blabbed it straight to my face, it’s nothing. She gets to break every rule. He calls it cute. What does that make me? Just stupid? “So you’re really marrying her.” My voice doesn’t shake. I make sure. I need to hear how he explains this. To me. Part of me—the part still clinging—thinks he’ll flinch. Look guilty. Beg me to let them go. Instead, his brow just twitches. “Yes. Tomorrow. You can come if you want. But you don’t make a scene, Nova. Don’t make me put hands on you.” That’s it. The last sliver of hope I had—gone. I lock my jaw against the tears and shove the word out of my throat. “Out.” But Lily isn’t done. “Damien… I don’t know many people here. I was hoping Nova could be one of my bridesmaids… but I’d hate to offend her—” He melts at the way she asks for it. Turns to me. “Nova, being her bridesmaid is nothing. You won’t make a fuss about that, right?” Something snaps. I grab a steel rod from the corner and start swinging. “GET OUT.” I drive them through the door. Slam it. Slide down against the wood, breath ragged. A single tear cuts down my cheek before I can stop it. Then my phone lights up. A message from Kieran Vance. [Red looks good on you. Beautiful.] [Take the heels off. Ice that ankle.]

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I went downstairs to take out the trash. That’s when I saw it. A Cadillac Escalade, rocking hard. In the passenger seat, my husband’s management trainee was making out with some guy. Full-on. I almost admired the audacity. Then I saw the man’s hand resting on the window frame. A wedding band. Engraved. C&M. My name is Claire. My husband is Miles Morrow. A cold wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. So that’s how it is. A man can say he loves you while undressing in someone else’s car. I took an Uber to the county clerk’s office. “Ms. Morrow, are you sure you want to change your name? You’ll need to update your degrees, your IDs, your passport. Everything.” I nodded. “I’m sure.” The clerk tried again. “Legal name changes are quite involved for adults. And your current name is lovely. Perhaps you’d like to think it over?” “No.” I signed the consent form. “Please proceed.” “Alright. The requested name is… Vera Rose. Correct?” “Yes.” Vera. A new beginning. Rose. Wild and resilient. This was the identity I was giving myself. Not Mrs. Morrow. Not anyone’s wife. Just me. I asked the clerk, “Can I update my passport now?” “Yes. Take this certified court order downstairs to the passport window. They’ll handle it.” I changed my passport as fast as humanly possible. Outside the clerk’s office, the Chicago skyline stood directly across the street. The giant screen on the building was playing an interview with Miles Morrow, CEO of Blackstone Group. The host had picked up on his little habit. She smiled and asked, “Mr. Morrow, I notice you keep touching your ring. It looks like a simple platinum band. Is there something special about it?” Miles smiled, soft and warm. He held up his hand. “It’s my wedding ring.” “Oh! I apologize. I assumed someone of your stature would have a Harry Winston diamond. Several carats, at least.” Miles said, “I made this ring myself. Shaped it, polished it. I engraved our initials inside the band.” “Wow. I can see two sets of letters. M and…” “C. My wife’s name is Claire.” “Wow. Your wife must be the luckiest woman alive. She must have saved the universe in a past life to marry a man like you.” Miles just said, “Actually, I’m the one who saved the universe to marry her.” The people around me were full of envy. The only person who felt nothing? Me. I glanced at the screen. Once. Then I looked away. Miles and I had been genuinely in love once. Fifteen years. High school to the altar. In our classmates’ eyes, we were the couple voted “most likely to last forever” in the yearbook. Until two months ago. I got a Snapchat from a stranger. A woman. She looked barely twenty. She was wearing a seductive slip and stockings. Her neck and chest were covered in marks. Purple and red. She’d clearly just come from a very active session. She threw up a peace sign at the camera. On her finger, she wore a platinum ring. A size too big. A man’s ring. Engraved with letters: M&C. Later, I met the girl in Miles’s office. Her name was Brooklyn. Fresh out of Wharton. Twenty-one years old. The company’s shiny new management trainee. My mind went blank with a roar of static. Management trainee. What a loaded title. This wasn’t just an affair. It was an abuse of power. A sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to detonate. And he was completely oblivious. I wanted to walk in and ask him: Is sleeping with the boss part of the employee benefits package now? But I didn’t. That Snapchat told me everything I needed to know. I walked away from the crowd and their sighs of envy. I went straight to a pawn shop. When I pulled the ring off my left hand, it felt like peeling off a layer of skin. “Ma’am, would you like to sell it or have it melted down?” “This ring. Melt it.” “There’s an engraving on it. It probably means something. Are you absolutely sure?” “Yes. Please do it quickly.” Half an hour later, I came home with a neatly wrapped jewelry box. Miles didn’t get back until after ten. He was holding a bouquet. “Sorry, Claire. Work has been crazy. I brought you your favorite. Lily of the valley. Do you like them?” He leaned in close. I caught the scent of a woman’s perfume on him. YSL Black Opium. I turned my head slightly. My eyes landed on a small bite mark on his Adam’s apple. And on the collar of his Brooks Brothers shirt. A lipstick stain. Bright red. Unmistakable. I stared at that red smear. I didn’t say a word. So this was what “working late” looked like. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” I pushed him away. “Just tired.” “Let me carry you to bed.” He bent down, ready to scoop me up. I pushed him away again. “You’re tired too. Take a shower. Get some rest.” Miles reached for my hand. Then he stopped. His expression shifted. “Claire. Where’s your ring?”

“I took it off.” “I made that ring with my own hands. It’s proof of our love. Why would you take it off?” I gave him a flat excuse. “Keto diet. Water retention. It doesn’t fit right now.” Miles’s face relaxed. His smile returned. “I’ll take it to Tiffany’s to get resized.” “We’ll see.” “What’s that on the table?” He pointed at the jewelry box. His expression lit up. “Claire, is that a gift for me?” I nodded. “Yes.” Inside was a small platinum lump. I had melted our wedding rings. I put the remains inside that box. Miles was delighted. “What’s the occasion? You never surprise me with gifts.” I felt nothing but a tired, cold disappointment. “Today is our wedding anniversary.” Miles’s face crumpled. He scrambled to appease me. “Claire, I’m so sorry. The quarterly earnings have been brutal. How about we go out tonight? I can book a table at Alinea right now.” “No need. I already ate.” “Then let’s go see the skyline. Walk by Lake Michigan?” “I’m tired. I want to sleep.” Miles wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, his voice coaxing. “Come on, Claire. We haven’t gone for a walk in so long. I feel like you’ve been distant lately. I’m starting to worry my Claire is losing interest.” I removed his hands from my body. Fifteen years. A dull, distant ache. Then—nothing. He wanted cheap thrills. I wanted my dignity. I was leaving. All of me. My heart, my body, my fifteen years, my reluctance to let go. I was taking it all back. Now. On the way out, Miles drove. He chattered about his day, trying to fill the silence. I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. I wasn’t listening. Because when I was buckling my seatbelt, my fingers brushed against something wedged in the gap of the seat. A woman’s lace thong. Very clearly used. I shoved it back where I found it. I pulled out my phone. I took a picture. Calmly. Evidence collected. Not because I planned to stay and endure this. Because I had already decided to leave. Confronting him now would just be a waste of time. He would lie. He would deflect. He would make excuses. I was done listening to lies. This was it. We reached the lakefront. Miles got out first and opened my door. “We’re here, Claire.” I hadn’t wanted to come. But this lake was where we used to go when we first got together. It started here. It could end here. We were walking when I heard a girl whisper to her friend nearby. “Oh my god, it’s that CEO… the one with the ring.” “So hot. And so, so sweet.” Miles heard it too. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. Then his phone rang. He gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Claire. Give me a minute. It’s the board. I’ll be right back.” “Go ahead.” “Wait for me right here. Don’t wander off.” More hushed murmurs from the crowd around us. I kept my face blank. I stood by the water and stared out at the dark, shimmering lake. When Miles saw the caller ID, the grin he tried to suppress was unmistakable. I knew that smile. It wasn’t the polite smile of a business call. It was the thrill of seeing his prey. But I couldn’t be bothered to expose him anymore. It was cold by the water. I went back to the car to wait. The car’s display screen was still active. Miles’s Apple CarPlay hadn’t disconnected. His messages were still synced. New texts were popping up, one after another. The contact name was “Kitty B.” Miles: Miss me? Kitty B: The nights feel so empty without you. Miles: I didn’t satisfy you enough at the office today, Kitty? Kitty B: Not enough, Daddy. I want more. Miles: Fine. Tomorrow. Work. My office. I’ll make it up to you. Kitty B: Hehehe. I’ll wear the fishnets to work tomorrow. The conversation spiraled from there. Unreadable. Filthy. Full of explicit language. I stared at the screen. I felt a cold, clear wave of nausea. Not heartbreak. That had shattered the moment I saw the ring. This was disgust. Pure, physical revulsion. I was trembling. My nails bit deep into my palms. Miles was quick. About fifteen minutes. He climbed back into the car, clutching his chest. He let out a deep breath. “I turned around after the call and you were gone. Scared me to death. Thank god you’re okay.” I couldn’t look at his sanctimonious face anymore. I stared down at my own hands. “It was cold. I came back to the car.” “Yeah, of course. Wherever you’re comfortable.” I looked up at him. After reading those messages, that sentence hit differently. Wherever you’re comfortable. The thong wedged in the passenger seat gap… Did that mean they had done it here? In this seat? A wave of nausea hit me so hard I threw the door open and vomited.

Miles panicked. He rushed to my side. “Claire! What’s wrong?” I heaved until there was nothing left. I couldn’t pull myself together. I didn’t understand. How could a man who loved me so much cheat on me? Then I realized. He probably never thought there would be consequences. He thought he could have both. The dutiful wife at home. The hot mistress on the side. He thought I would never find out. Or worse. He thought even if I did, I would swallow it. The lake wind cleared my head. Miles asked, “Are you okay, Claire? If you feel sick, I’ll take you to Northwestern Memorial right now.” “No. Probably just something bad I ate. The salmon from Whole Foods might’ve been off.” “Then come meet me at the office tomorrow. We’ll have lunch.” I almost laughed in his face. Come to the office and watch you and Brooklyn going at it in your private suite? A plan formed in my head. I wanted to see it. I wanted to watch the performance with my own eyes. “Sure. I’ll come with you tomorrow morning. Keep you company at work. Then we’ll have lunch. Then we’ll come home together in the evening.” Miles clearly hadn’t expected me to say yes. His expression flickered. “But I might be pretty busy. I might not be able to stay with you the whole time.” “You do your work. I’ll wait for you in your office.” “…Alright.” Back home, Miles offered to run me a bath. He went into the master bathroom and closed the door behind him. Unusually. I went back downstairs and got into the car. The moment I started the engine, the latest messages popped up on the screen. Miles: Change of plans. Office is off tomorrow. Kitty B: Aww. Disappointing. Miles: Don’t be disappointed, Kitty. Daddy will take you to the rooftop. More exciting. Kitty B: Hehehe. Daddy’s the best. I turned off the screen. There was no emotion left in my eyes. Enjoy your rooftop, darling. It’s your last one. I was back in the bedroom when Miles came out of the bathroom. “Claire, your bath is ready. Go take a nice soak.” “No. I just want to rest.” “Alright. If you’re tired, sleep. Oh, that gift you left on the table. Can I open it now?” I said, “Wait one week.” “Why a week? I want to see what my Claire got for me.” “Because…” Because in one week, I would be gone. Forever. “Because it won’t mean anything until a week from now.” Miles kissed me gently on the forehead. “Alright. Whatever you say.” The next morning, his phone started buzzing at six. He silenced it and rolled over, holding me. “Ignore it. Sleep a little longer.” The phone kept buzzing. Insistent. Miles frowned in irritation. “It’s not even office hours yet. Damn useless middle management. I’m going to fire them all.” He silenced it again. The third time it rang, he got up, fuming. “Go back to sleep, Claire. I’m going to find out what’s so goddamn urgent.” I made a quiet sound of acknowledgment. I turned over. My back to him. He took the phone and left the bedroom. Soon enough, I saw his figure at the front door downstairs. A DoorDash driver in a purple shirt was handing him a package. Miles took it. When he came back inside, his hands were empty. I asked, “Was it serious? The company thing?” He said, “It’s fine. Nothing for you to worry about. Rest. I’ll make you breakfast.” Whether it was guilt or genuine concern about my stomach, Miles went all out for breakfast. Orange juice. Bacon. French toast. Maple syrup. And my favorite Greek yogurt with granola. “You can’t be careless about food anymore. I’ll hire a housekeeper. Someone to cook for you every day.” “No.” “Be a good girl and let me handle it, Claire. Otherwise I’ll be worried sick at work.” “Miles, can I ask you something?” “Go ahead.” I set down my fork and asked him calmly. “The seven-year itch. Do you think it’s real?” Miles immediately put on a look of righteous disgust. “That’s just an excuse weak men use to justify their infidelity. I’m not like that. I’ll only ever love my Claire.” “Only me? Forever?” “Yes.” “What if you fell in love with someone else?” “Then the moment I betray her, may God strike me dead with lightning. May I burn in hell.” I looked at him. I said nothing. “They’re true words. Why would I be afraid?” I picked up my fork again and spread jam on my toast. Miles said, “Claire. Trust me.” I just said, “Eat your breakfast.” “You still don’t believe me? Do I have to cut my heart out and show you?” “The people at the office are waiting. Don’t be late.” Miles finally relaxed. He sat down across from me. “Let them wait. A bunch of useless idiots. I’ll fire them soon enough.” “Fire her. Would you be willing to do that?” I said “her.” Not “them.” I don’t know if Miles caught it or not. He just said, “Apart from you, there’s no one I can’t bear to lose.”

After breakfast, we left for the office together. But I couldn’t stand the passenger seat. I insisted on sitting in the back. “I’ve been feeling claustrophobic. The back is better. I can roll down the window.” Miles didn’t push it. “Alright. I’ll drive as smoothly as I can.” We pulled up to the office. Miles jogged around to open my door. Getting out of the car, I was swarmed by employees in the morning rush. Again. A couple of VPs even jogged over, fawning. “Mrs. Morrow is here! Mr. Morrow is always talking about how you love the Starbucks Pink Drink. I’ll go grab you one right now.” Another one chimed in. “I’ll handle snacks. Mrs. Morrow likes macarons.” Miles laughed and scolded them. “Don’t you dare overfeed her. Claire’s dealing with some water retention. Her ring doesn’t even fit right now.” “You’re wrong about that, Mr. Morrow. The lady looks very slim. If the ring doesn’t fit, it’s the ring’s fault. It must have shrunk!” “Oh, stop. Flattery is one thing, but that’s ridiculous. Platinum doesn’t shrink.” “You’re the one who doesn’t get it. Mr. Morrow loves his wife so much. If the wife is happy, Mr. Morrow is happy. And then we all have an easy day.” Miles laughed, playing along. “Fine, fine. You’ve all found my weak spot.” The crowd laughed with him. I was practically carried by the wave of sycophants into Miles’s office. Fruit. Snacks. Pink Drink. The works. Miles even pulled up a Netflix show on his Apple desktop for me. “Claire, I have to go work. Stay here and relax. If you need anything, just ask Jason outside.” I asked him deliberately, “What about your management trainee? Brooklyn? I didn’t see her today.” Miles said, “I don’t know. I’ll have HR call and check.” Before he left, he stroked my hair and whispered, “Wait for me. We’ll have lunch together.” Miles left. The executives left. I noticed he’d left his phone on the desk. I hurried out to return it. But I stopped when I heard the executives talking. “…The rooftop? Mr. Morrow and Brooklyn are getting really wild.” “What can you do? Who knew the boss’s wife was going to show up today? They had to switch locations.” “So do we still need to get condoms for Mr. Morrow today?” “No. I saw him heading up earlier. He had several boxes stuffed in his pockets. Trojan.” “Heh heh heh. Mr. Morrow’s impressive. Buying condoms right under his wife’s nose?” “DoorDash. So convenient these days. You can get anything delivered.” My footsteps stopped. So those insistent phone calls this morning were from the delivery guy. He ordered a condom delivery first thing in the morning. He was really looking forward to that rooftop date. So well prepared. “…Wonder if a few boxes will be enough. Last time, Mr. Morrow and Brooklyn went at it in the car for a whole day and night. The next day, Brooklyn was walking funny.” “If it’s not enough, we’ll just send more. As his subordinates, we gotta serve the boss well, right?” “Didn’t you just say we had to serve the boss’s wife?” “Please. What does she know? A Pink Drink and some snacks and she’s handled. A man in Mr. Morrow’s position… who doesn’t have a few women on the side? You just keep the wife in the dark.” “Yeah. She looks pretty naive. Shouldn’t be hard.” I stood there. I heard every word. I calmly pulled out my phone. I hit record. This was good material. Just then, Miles appeared. He swept a cold, slow look across the group. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. “Not a word in front of Claire. Understood?” The executives nodded furiously. “Got it, Mr. Morrow. We know what’s up.” One of them asked, “Mr. Morrow, why’d you bring your wife in today? You and Brooklyn have to hide on the rooftop now. We all have to watch what we say.” Miles shot him a hard look. “Claire is the boss’s wife. She goes where she wants. Are you questioning it?” “No, no, no…” Miles issued another warning. “Take care of Claire. Her stomach was upset yesterday. No cold food. And if anyone breathes a word about me and Brooklyn, you’re out on the street. Clear?” The executives beamed their fake smiles and nodded. I didn’t hear the rest. I was already back in Miles’s office. I placed his phone among the pile of snacks. A few minutes later, Miles came in. He was back to his gentle-gentleman act. “My little greedy cat. What are you eating that’s got you so happy?” “Little greedy cat.” The phrase sent a wave of revulsion through me. That was what he called Brooklyn. I pushed down the nausea and asked, “Weren’t you at a meeting? Why are you back?” “Left my phone here. Have you seen it?” I shook my head. “No.” Miles rummaged through the snack pile and fished it out. “Buried in the snacks. Alright, you keep eating. I’m off.” Ring ring— My phone went off this time. I picked it up. “Hello. Am I speaking to Ms. Vera Rose?” “Yes. This is she.” “Ms. Rose, this is a confirmation for your flight to Norway booked for one week from today. Your ticket has been issued. You just need to bring your passport to the airport.” “Just the passport? Any other documentation needed?” “No. Your passport is sufficient.” “Thank you.” I hung up. Miles looked confused. “Passport? Claire, what do you need your passport for?”

I said, “A friend of mine. She lost her passport. She was asking how to get a replacement.” Miles came over and wrapped me in a hug. “You scared me to death. I thought you were planning a trip to Europe. Without me.” His scent hit me. My stomach lurched. Heavy musk. And a woman’s vanilla perfume. I turned my head and threw up again. Miles patted my back, his voice full of concern. “What did they feed you? I specifically told them your stomach was off. I told them to look after you… Just wait. I’m going to fire them all right now!” I pushed him away. I put every ounce of strength into it. “Fire whoever you want! Just stop using me as your excuse!” My sudden outburst caught him off guard. “Claire. Are you mad at me? Because I’ve been buried in work and haven’t kept you company?” He said, “Alright. Tomorrow I’ll cancel everything. I’ll spend the whole day with you. Okay?” I took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “I hope you mean that.” That night, a thunderstorm rolled in out of nowhere. From the moment I got home, I kept throwing up. Miles tried to get close to me. I shoved him back hard. “Don’t come near me. Your smell makes me sicker.” Miles sniffed his sleeve. “Maybe it’s my Tom Ford cologne. You don’t like it. I’ll switch to a different one.” “Miles. You know damn well it’s not the cologne.” “Alright, alright. Don’t be upset. I won’t wear any cologne at all from now on. Okay?” I splashed cold water on my face and looked up at the mirror. And at the man outside the bathroom, holding a glass of warm water, waiting anxiously. I just didn’t understand. How could he stand there, reeking of another woman, and still play the devoted husband so flawlessly? Did he actually believe his own lies? Or had he just never considered me a person with a working brain? Probably the latter. He underestimated me. His mistake. And that mistake was about to cost him everything. The next morning, Miles took me to Northwestern Memorial. After a series of tests, the doctor gave his assessment. “It appears to be anxiety-induced IBS.” Miles asked, “What do you mean, anxiety-induced IBS?” “The patient has recently experienced a significant emotional shock. The impact has been severe enough to cause gastrointestinal dysfunction. That’s what’s triggering the vomiting.” Miles turned to me. “Claire, has something been bothering you lately? Tell me. Maybe I can fix it.” I turned my face away, avoiding his proximity. “You can’t fix it.” “Try me. There’s very little in this world I can’t handle.” Yeah. He was the only one who could fix this. For a split second, I wanted to ask him. If Brooklyn and I were both drowning in Lake Michigan, who would he save first? Then I dropped it. Stupid question. I shouldn’t put my fate in anyone else’s hands. I can swim. I can save myself. I don’t need Miles. I don’t need anyone. In Norway, I had applied to RISD under the name Vera Rose. I had given up my dream of painting to marry Miles. From now on, I was going to live for myself. “Claire, how about I take you to see a Broadway show this afternoon? Hamilton is playing. It’ll cheer you up.” “This afternoon? Don’t you have work?” “We agreed. I’m yours all day today. I keep my promises. I never go back on my word.” A second later, his phone rang. He moved to silence it. Then he glanced at the caller ID. He paused. I watched his expression shift in real time. Annoyance. Then conflict. I smiled. “Take it. Work comes first.” Miles said, “I’ll be quick. Five minutes.” “Mm.” He moved to take the call outside. I stopped him. “Take it here. I can’t follow your business talk anyway. No need to worry about leaks.” Miles froze. Awkward. Two seconds of hesitation. He picked up. His brow furrowed with anger. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me today? What is it?” I couldn’t make out the words on the other end. But I caught the sound of a woman crying. Miles spoke carefully, aware of my presence. “Alright. I understand. Hold on.” He hung up. He turned to me, his voice full of apology. “Claire, the CFO is bringing a critical M&A document for my signature. He’s downstairs at the hospital. I’ll sign and come right back. Half an hour. Tops.” I nodded. Miles practically ran out of the exam room. The doctor smiled. “Mrs. Morrow, your husband adores you. Dropping everything for you like this.” “Is that so.” I forced a smile. “Excuse me, doctor. Restroom.” “Of course.” I stepped out. I saw Miles, too impatient for the elevator, sprinting down the stairs. He did go downstairs. One floor down. Obstetrics and Gynecology. Buzz— My phone vibrated. Brooklyn: Claire, I’m so sorry. I don’t think he’ll be able to spend the day with you after all. One call from me, and he comes running.

Brooklyn’s messages kept pouring in. Brooklyn: Oh, and look at this. [Image] My ultrasound. I’m pregnant. I zoomed in on the photo and read the top line. Embryo 8 weeks. Threatened miscarriage. Brooklyn: We went at it on the rooftop yesterday. So many times. Tried every position. Guess it was a little too rough. The baby’s showing signs of distress. Oops. His fault, really. He said sex with you at home was boring. He wanted something exciting with me. Brooklyn: The doctor says whether I keep it or terminate, the baby’s father needs to sign the consent form. So I had to call him down. I mean, between your stomach flu and his child… the child is a little more important. Don’t you think? I took a cab. Alone. I went to a family law firm. “I need to retain your firm to draft a divorce agreement.” I wanted nothing. The lawyer was efficient. Half an hour. I had the complete agreement in my hands. The lawyer told me, “My recommended strategy is this. We file under irreconcilable differences. In Illinois, if you move out and establish independent residence for six months, the court will have a very hard time dismissing your petition. These six months are the legal countdown to your freedom.” I was walking out with the divorce papers when my phone rang. Miles. “Claire! Where are you? I’ve searched the whole hospital.” I said, “I waited so long you didn’t come back. So I went home.” “Good. As long as you got home safe. I’m sorry, Claire. Something came up with work. I might need to go out of town for a few days. New York. Take good care of yourself at home. Next week. I swear I’ll clear everything next week. Just for you.” I let out a heavy sigh. A lie told a thousand times isn’t believable anymore. But I didn’t need to believe anything anymore. I just needed to leave. “Yeah. Go.” “My Claire is so understanding. Be good. Tomorrow I’ll be back with your lily of the valley.” “Understanding?” I asked. “Miles, is that what you like? Women who pout and cling and won’t let go? Am I too understanding? Am I boring?” Miles paused. “Of course not. I love you. Whatever you are, I love.” “Miles. Will you ever fall in love with someone else?” “Of course not.” “Then let me tell you something.” I gripped my phone. My voice was calm. Cold. “If you betray me, I will disappear. Completely. You will never find me.” Miles let out a soft laugh. “Alright. Try it. I can lock down O’Hare and Union Station. As long as your name is still Claire, you can’t leave me.” But my passport didn’t say Claire anymore. It said Vera Rose. I repeated myself. “I’m serious. I will leave so clean you won’t find a single trace.” Miles was still laughing. Like he was teasing a cat. “Fine. Run. I’ll give you three days. Then I’ll come find you. I told you. As long as your name is Claire, I can find you wherever you go. You can’t shake me off.” Can’t shake him off? I smiled. Watch me.

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After I moved into the house my parents bought me, the electric bill hit $100,000 in a month! My parents emptied their retirement fund to buy me a house, despite my brother’s objections. I moved in with joy. But one month later, my phone showed an electric bill of $100,000! I rushed to the power company to check the statement. The clerk looked at it and shook her head. “Ma’am, your electric bill is legitimate. There’s no fraud.” To investigate, I removed every appliance from the house. I even charged my phone at work. But the second month’s bill came out at $100,000 again! I’d only been working a few months. I couldn’t possibly pay this astronomical bill. Under pressure from collections, my parents borrowed from loan sharks to pay for me. I wanted to sell the house, but word about the electric bill had spread. No one would buy it. The bills kept piling up. I pulled the main breaker, not daring to use any electricity. But the third month’s bill came out at $100,000! I nearly fainted. My brother didn’t believe me. He called me ungrateful, accusing me of using fake electric bills to scam our parents’ hard-earned money. My parents were completely disappointed in me. They kicked me out to fend for myself. Within months, I owed millions of dollars in predatory loans. In the end, I was beaten to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my parents bought the house. …… Dad smiled as he handed me the new house keys, his eyes full of affection. “Hazel, what are you thinking about? Don’t tell me you’re speechless with emotion?” “Our Hazel finally has the little house she’s been dreaming of. Hurry up and move in to see how it feels!” The memories of my tragic death flooded back. I couldn’t help shuddering. I quickly refused. “Dad! Julian got married last month and you just bought him a house.” “Buying one for me this month is too much spending!” “Why don’t we return the house?” Dad paused, then burst out laughing. “Silly girl, you think this is grocery shopping? You can’t just return it like that.” Mom also laughed. She took the keys from Dad and pressed them into my hand, brooking no argument. “Hazel, if your brother has one, you must have one too!” “Being fair to both of you—that’s our bottom line. No discussion!” “Your dad and I have things to do. Go check out your new home first!” I opened the door with a heavy heart. The house was fully furnished and very new. I could tell my parents had spent serious money. They said they wanted to buy the best, so I could move in and enjoy it immediately. I scanned the entire place. One bedroom, one living room, one kitchen, one bathroom. I carefully checked every room. No high-power appliances. Even if there were, they couldn’t possibly cost $100,000 a month! I opened my phone and logged into the electric utility system. My mind went blank with shock! It showed the house had already used 237 kWh. 237 kWh was more than a normal person would use in a month. But only one hour had passed since I completed the paperwork! “I don’t believe it… why is this happening!” I frantically searched on my phone, looking for a solution. Suddenly my eyes lit up! A news headline read: Man’s Electric Bill Triples—Neighbor Was Stealing Electricity! Instantly it dawned on me. Of course. In my past life, I’d searched every inch of my home and found nothing wrong. Even after I pulled the breaker, the meter kept spinning at high speed. If someone had secretly wired into my electrical system, everything would make sense! I immediately hired the best electrician in the city and asked him to inspect the entire building’s wiring. The master electrician’s expression turned serious. “Miss, inspecting the whole building is no small matter.” “Coordinating with neighbors is very difficult, and the cost will be tens of thousands. Are you sure?” Looking at the three thousand dollars left in my account, I gritted my teeth and opened a credit card, then took out online loans. If I didn’t spend the money now, I’d spend much more later. I paid the deposit and coordinated with the neighbors one by one. Then the electrician began the formal inspection. My heart was in my throat. After the electrician finished inspecting the last unit, I looked at him expectantly, hoping for a reasonable answer. But to my surprise, the electrician’s face was grave. He sighed. “Miss, no one is stealing your electricity. It’s your own household using it.”

My eyes widened in shock! How was that possible! In my past life, I’d removed all the appliances. There was no way to use electricity! This life, though I hadn’t gone through all that, the appliances in the house were just a fridge, washing machine, and lights. These couldn’t possibly use 237 kWh in one hour! The electrician shook his head and left, his tone full of helplessness. “Miss, I don’t know about this. Why don’t you contact the power company again?” I collapsed on the floor in despair. In my past life, I’d already searched through all the relevant departments. Power company, housing bureau, even the fire department and police. But in the end, nothing was found. Bang bang bang! Someone suddenly pounded on the door. I opened it. It was my brother. He looked at the fully furnished house, his eyes full of resentment and anger. “Hazel, congratulations. You finally beat me once.” “While my mortgage isn’t even paid off yet, you convinced Mom and Dad to buy you a house in full. You must feel pretty smug, huh?” I forced a bitter smile. I didn’t feel smug at all. On the contrary, I felt miserable. Since childhood, though our parents said they’d be fair to both of us, the bigger apples always went to my brother. This time, for once I got better treatment than him, but it turned out like this. Bang! I slammed the door with all my strength, shutting him out. Looking at the electric bill still jumping rapidly on my phone, anger, resentment, grievance, confusion… all my emotions surged up. I grabbed a hammer. Bang! Bang! Bang! Like a madwoman, I smashed all the interior decoration to pieces! The electrician said it was my own usage. Fine, I’d smash everything—all the fixtures and furnishings—I refused to believe I couldn’t find where the electricity was being used! Shards flew everywhere, piercing my skin with searing pain. But I felt nothing. I just kept swinging the hammer. Tiles, closets, bed… everything I could see was smashed to pieces! This should solve the problem. But when I opened my phone with trembling hands, my pupils shrank! It clearly showed 2,500 kWh used! “How is this possible!” My eyes were bloodshot, staring deadly at every corner of the house. The house was a complete mess, everything shattered to fragments. But the electric bill kept jumping rapidly. “No, this is impossible!” I refused to accept it. I hired some demolition workers to tear down the walls. Now there was nothing left in the house, yet the bill kept rising. Could all the secrets be hidden in the walls? Several workers demolished for an entire day. Kitchen, bedroom, bathroom… all the interior partitions were torn down, leaving it empty with only four bare load-bearing walls! I stood in the ruins and opened my phone with shaking hands. Surely the electricity couldn’t keep running now. But after logging onto the website, a chill shot straight to the top of my head! The electric bill was still rising at high speed!

This time not just me—even the workers were shocked. They took turns checking my phone. “This is absolutely impossible!” “There’s nothing left in your house. How is it still using electricity?” One worker glanced around and muttered quietly. “Miss, could there be something… unclean… in your house…” Hearing his words, the others’ faces changed instantly. They shoved the phone back at me and fled. Looking at the empty house, my heart filled with despair. I’d never believed in supernatural nonsense, but now except for this, there seemed to be no other explanation. But what should I do? Was I destined to be burdened with massive debt in this life too? Suddenly there was knocking at the door. I opened it to find my parents. They cheerfully handed me fruit and vegetables. “Hazel, we’ve been busy at work these past few days, so we’re only coming to see you now.” “How is it? Are you living comfortably in your new house?” I smiled bitterly and didn’t answer. They looked behind me curiously. The next second, their smiles froze! Dad rushed into the house, looking at the debris on the ground, utterly shocked. “Hazel, what happened?” “Wasn’t this fully furnished when we bought it? How did it become a bare shell?” I pulled out my phone, opened the website, and showed them. My parents’ faces instantly went pale. Dad angrily kicked over a stool on the ground. “Heartless realtor! How dare they scam my daughter!” “Hazel, don’t worry. Dad will go find them right now and make them exchange it for you!” Mom silently helped me clean up the house. Looking at her thin figure, my tears fell uncontrollably. In my past life, I dragged them down, forcing them to borrow from loan sharks to help me pay the debt. This life, I absolutely couldn’t do that again. I walked into the bedroom, found paper in the ruins of the desk, and began writing a will. If in the end I still couldn’t find out why, after my death this house would automatically be donated. That way even if huge fees accumulated later, it would have nothing to do with my parents. As I wrote, I suddenly found a section of wire under the desk. The bedroom wiring wasn’t in this location at all. Why would there be a wire here? Thump thump thump! My heart suddenly pounded violently! Could this be the source of the $100,000 electric bill? Grabbing the wire, I wanted to see where it led. But no matter how hard I pulled, the wire never reached its end. Just as I was puzzled, suddenly Mom’s voice sounded behind me. “Hazel, what are you doing?” I whipped around. Mom’s eyes were fixed deadly on the wire in my hand. Her expression wasn’t like her previous loving one—it carried a hint of darkness. My heart instantly tightened. A bad thought vaguely surfaced. I forced a smile at Mom, trying to sound casual. “Mom, I’m cleaning up the bedroom.” “I want to help so you’re not too tired.” Mom looked at me suspiciously for a few moments, then snatched the wire and shoved it back under the desk before pulling me out of the bedroom. “Mom’s not tired, you don’t need to clean.” “You’ve been mentally and physically exhausted these past few days. You need to rest properly.” I wasn’t willing to give up. I tried to get around Mom to look at that wire again. But unexpectedly, Mom took several steps directly in front of me, her hands gripping me like iron clamps, trying to pull me out of the room again! Looking at Mom’s evasive expression, the panic in my heart grew larger and larger. Why did she keep stopping me from inspecting the wire? Could there really be some unspeakable secret there? The terror of my past life’s death kept crashing over me. I panicked instantly. I shook off Mom’s hands and grabbed that wire, yanking hard! The next second, my pupils shrank!

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The night before Valentine’s Day, my fiancé texted me that our wedding had to be postponed again. [Babe, I’m sorry. Something came up with the team before the hockey game. We’ll have to postpone the wedding again.] Then I looked up. Right there at the arena entrance, Liam had Chloe, his cheer captain, pinned inside his open jacket. He lost patience, pressed Chloe against the wall, and devoured her mouth. “Just to keep your little game going, I’ve stood Ava up six times,” Liam said. “This is the last time. Next year, no matter what, I’m marrying her.” Chloe was laughing against his mouth. “I heard your new bed’s ready. I think I’ll try you out in it first.” “Don’t thank me. Call it an early wedding gift.” I dug my nails into my palm and called Liam’s parents. [Mr. and Mrs. Carter, can you gather everyone and come to the apartment tonight? Let’s get it ready early.] [Yes. I want to surprise Liam.] If this was how he wanted to play, I would make sure he regretted it. …… [Don’t tell Liam we’re all in the city yet.] [Perfect. I’ll meet you all downstairs.] After I hung up, I opened the security app on my phone. The footage showed everything — from the front door all the way to the master bedroom. On screen, they tangled together from the moment they entered, kissing their way down the hallway, hands everywhere, until they disappeared into the bedroom. I saw the custom team mascot charm I’d had made with his jersey number. It was lying on the floor in the wreckage. I stood still and let the cold go through me. Both families arrived before long. My parents reached me first. “Did you find him, Ava? Did you see Liam?” “Don’t worry — your dad already called the team’s front office. Nobody is pulling Liam into a meeting this weekend. The wedding goes ahead.” I held everything down and made myself smile. “Good.” “Ava, weren’t you going to surprise him? Stop standing there — let’s go up.” I looked at the red balloons and streamers in everyone’s hands. My nose stung. The tears came anyway. Liam and I had known each other ten years. Together for eight. The wedding had been pushed back six times. Six years ago, one month out — he said he was going for team captain. I agreed to delay. Three years ago, one week out — closed playoff camp. I agreed again. This year, as I got older, my parents couldn’t wait any longer. Three days ago, they arrived in our city with a whole group of relatives, ready to help me prepare for the wedding. But I never imagined that the apartment I had spent six years decorating with hope, every piece of furniture I chose, every inch of flooring, would be occupied by another woman. She settled in like she belonged there. My stomach turned. I made it to a trash can and stayed there for a while. I wanted to tell them everything. Half an hour ago, Liam texted me personally to say the wedding was being pushed back another year. I wanted to tell my parents he had been cheating. That every time he called off the wedding weekend, he was with Chloe. But I found that my throat had been seized by something invisible. Not a single word came out. In the elevator, I forced down a mouthful of cold water. “Liam. It’s time you found out what it feels like to be the one made a fool of.”

Everyone stepped off the elevator and stopped. A lace bra. Men’s boxers. A hockey jersey. Scattered across the hallway floor. I kicked them toward the wall and pretended to be embarrassed. Liam’s mother covered her mouth to hide a smile. She unlocked the door. From the master bedroom came unmistakable sounds — a woman’s breathless moaning, shameless and wild. “Big boy — you’re so strong — feels amazing —” “When you’re here with your wife — will you think of me?” “Every time you see the furniture she picked out — will you remember today?” The room froze. Nobody moved toward the bedroom. Nobody said a word. I made my legs move. I walked to the bedroom door and stopped at the threshold. I bit down hard. I tasted blood. “Liam. Get out here. Right now.” “Did you hear me?” “You betray my daughter and you think you’re standing there?” My father charged toward the bedroom. Both fists hit the door. Just as he drew his foot back to kick it in, Liam squeezed out through the gap wrapped in a towel. “Mr. Hayes — Mom — Dad — Marcus —” “How did you all — why didn’t anyone —” He didn’t finish. My father’s fist landed on his face. “You disgusting piece of work. Ava waited six years for you.” “Six years. Is this what she was waiting for?” Before Liam could recover, my mother had already come back from the kitchen with a knife. “Where is she. Where is that girl. She thinks she can touch my daughter’s fiancé.” “I’ll deal with her myself.” Liam tore the knife away and threw it on the floor. “Mr. Hayes, Mrs. Hayes — this is a misunderstanding.” “I had just planned to come home early to surprise Ava.” “I’d just gotten out of the shower when you all showed up.” My cousin Marcus had already pushed into the bedroom. “Liam — don’t you dare betray my sister.” He stopped. The bed was made. Tight, clean, untouched-looking. He checked every corner. No second person. Liam’s mother exhaled and spoke first. “See? Liam would never do something like that.” “We all jumped to conclusions.” “Ava, sweetheart — next time just wait upstairs with him instead of bringing everyone up.” She picked up the jersey from the floor and threw it at her son. “And you — watching porn on your phone. Look at this mess you made.” Liam’s younger cousin jumped in. “Honestly though — did you two already hook up and just throw your clothes everywhere without cleaning up?” “That’s a bit much, man.” Liam pulled his clothes on fast, trying to cover his tracks. “Talk about bad luck. What kind of person gets busted watching porn in their own apartment?” He fake-coughed, trying to steer the conversation away. “Since everyone’s here — should we go out for dinner?” “Ava — what do you think?”

I didn’t move. He crossed the room and pulled me into his side. “Weren’t you just curled up against me before? Now you’re shy?” He dropped his voice next to my ear. “Let’s take everyone to dinner. I’ll explain the thing later. It’s not what it looked like. Trust me. Say something — everyone’s waiting.” Sure. Everyone’s waiting. Or maybe the person hiding was the one who’d been waiting longest. Ten years together. Liam knew exactly how to handle me. Every time he and Chloe crossed a line and called it friendship, I had let it go. I had believed every excuse, every single time. But he didn’t know: the moment I found out he had stood me up six times — for her — I stopped wanting to marry him. I didn’t want to expose the truth. I wanted to see them suffer the results of their own actions. I stepped out of his arms. Slowly, I turned to face the crowd. “It really was just a misunderstanding. We got a little carried away before you all arrived — sorry about that.” “Mom, Dad and Liam’s parents.” “Since everyone came all this way, why don’t we just cook at home?” “Absolutely not.” Liam and his parents refused at the same moment. Liam’s mother recovered first. “The fridge is empty. It’s already late. A restaurant is easier for everyone.” “Exactly. Let’s not keep standing around.” “Come on, Ava.” All three of them knew. The master bathroom had a hidden door. They wanted everyone out so Chloe could slip away. Not happening. I ignored the three pairs of Carter eyes and dropped onto the sofa. “We’ve all been on our feet all day. Nobody wants to drive across town now.” “I’ve already ordered the groceries. They’ll be here in twenty minutes.” “No Smoked ham for anyone? Marcus — still nothing spicy? Already noted.” The Carters sat down. They had no choice. In the kitchen, Liam found me and lowered his voice. “Ava. Did you get my text? I was trying to surprise you. It went sideways.” I looked up like I hadn’t heard anything. “What text? I never checked my phone — I’ve been setting up all day.” I reached for my pocket. He caught my wrist. “Forget it. The wedding is still on. Tomorrow you’re officially my wife.” I pulled free and went back to the living room. By the time the groceries arrived, everyone was already busy in the kitchen. The master bedroom was left to the two of us. I stared at the bedding. It was a mess — rumpled, disheveled. The air still carried the faint scent of sex. Liam’s eyes darted around nervously. He rushed over and yanked the entire set — duvet, sheets, all of it — onto the floor. “It’s been sitting empty. I don’t want dust.” He pulled a fresh set from the closet. “Sit down. I’ll do it. You’ve carried all of this alone — I see that.” “Once I make the All-Star roster I’ll push for a home trade. We’ll have the life you always wanted. I promise.” I stopped listening and reached for the handle of the hidden bathroom door. He grabbed me from behind. “Wait —”

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He said she was just his best friend. He said it on her birthday. On their anniversary. In the ER waiting room. He said it one too many times. So I left. While his life spiraled into regret and ruin, I already returned to the racing world and became the champion I was always meant to be. …… The seventh candle burned down to its base. Wax dripped down the stainless steel cake stand and pooled on the oak table of my small Silver Lake apartment—a small, scar‑like puddle of waxy white. In front of me sat a chocolate cake, delivered fresh that morning from Magnolia Bakery. I had cut seven slices myself. One for every hour Jude hadn’t shown up. At 1:23 a.m., an Instagram notification lit up. @JudeKane posted a carousel. I tapped it. First slide: Sunrise over Mulholland. Mia Vance wrapped in his black jacket, holding Red Roses. Second slide: She sat on the hood of his Porsche 911, laughing carelessly. Third slide: Their silhouettes. He was tucking her hair behind her ear. The caption took me three reads to believe I wasn’t seeing things: > *”Every guy needs a ride‑or‑die. Thanks for being mine. “* The comments had already passed four hundred. > **@racewithryan**: Bro, your girl will jealous? > **@miaonthegas**: Don’t say that, Cleo won’t mind~ We’re just friends I stared at the screen. My fingertip hovered above the glass for three full seconds. Then I tapped *like.* Slowly, I typed: > **@cleo.ward**: Hope you two ride forever. Send. I put the phone down and slid the ring off my finger—the one I had worn for three years. There was a faint red mark around my skin. Like a rope that had been tied too long and finally loosened. It turned out some things weren’t impossible to take off. I had just never been willing to pull hard enough. …… I looked at the seven cakes on the table and remembered a night three months ago. > *”Cleo, you’re my girlfriend. Don’t go picking fights with my best friend.”* That was the first time Jude said it. > Three months ago · Emergency Room > > My stomach hurt so badly I couldn’t stand straight. I called an Uber to hospital myself. > At 2 a.m., I curled up on a plastic chair and texted him: **“Where are you?”** > Twenty minutes later, he answered: **“Babe, Mia’s car got a flat tire. I’m driving out to pick her up. I’ll make you pancakes in the morning.”** > I stared at that message. My stomach felt like someone had clenched it and let go. > Two months ago · Beach House > > An Airbnb I’d booked a month in advance. He canceled it. > *“Too tired, babe. How about next weekend?”* > The next day, Mia posted an IG story: **“Camping guide unlocked! Thanks Jude for planning the whole thing.”** > I texted him: **“What about our weekend?”** > He replied: **“Cleo, don’t be dramatic.”** > Last month · Our third anniversary > > Dinner reservation at 7 p.m. > I waited until 9:45. The waiter came to refill my water for the third time. >He called. *”Cleo, Mia got into it with someone at the car meet, I gotta go handle it. Just eat without me, okay?”* > I had said: **Jude. Do you even know what today is?** > He had paused for one second. Then he had laughed. *”Babe. Not now.”* Every time, I had asked. Every time, a *don’t be dramatic* had pushed me back into place. I had thought I was fighting with him. It took me too long to realize — I had been talking to a wall with his name painted on it. …… I opened my phone again and scrolled to an email buried deep in my inbox. Sender: **Coach Lena Marquez**, Head of Driver Development, Formula Regional European Championship. She had invited me back for three years in a row. Every year, I gave her the same answer: *“I’m not ready.”* I hadn’t been ready to hold a steering wheel again. Not ready to go back to the kind of road that had taken my parents from me. I opened a nail salon on a quiet corner and pretended to be just a girl who did nails and didn’t race. But sitting there, with seven slices of cake going stale in front of me, I finally understood- The pain of staying with Jude had grown bigger than the crash I had been afraid of my whole life. My fingertips hovered over the keyboard. In the end, I typed two words. > **I’m ready.** Send. Right above it, Jude’s IG lit up with another comment. > **@racewithryan**: Dude, your girlfriend’s comment *“hope you two ride forever”* — that’s got teeth in it. I looked at it, powered off the phone, and threw it into the deepest drawer, next to the ring. That night, my birthday wish was simple. **Leave him.**

Jude came home at nine. He smelled like dew off the top of Mulholland. In one hand, a paper bag from the bagel place on Larchmont — my favorite everything bagel, lox and cream cheese. “Still mad?” His voice was so familiar it sounded like nothing had happened. He set breakfast on the kitchen island and crossed the room to put his arms around me from behind. I tilted my head away. His arm stalled for half a second, then he laughed it off. “Babe, there was no 5G signal up on the mountain. I really didn’t mean to ignore you. Cleo, you know how I feel about you, don’t you?” Of course I knew. Jude Kane had been tender before. I didn’t eat cilantro, and every time he ordered Sweetgreen he typed *NO CILANTRO PLEASE* three times in the notes. When my cramps got bad in the middle of the night, he would drive to the 24-hour CVS for heating pads. When my nail salon first opened and no one walked in for days, he had gone floor by floor through every office building on the block, handing out flyers until building security threw him out. He’d just rub his nose and grin. *”It’s fine. I’ll hit a different building tomorrow.”* I had thought a man who would give me his time was a man who really loved me. I didn’t realize love could fork in the road. He had drifted, slowly, into someone else’s lane. …… He opened my latte, stuck a straw in it, and slid it toward me. “Don’t be mad, babe. I made a reservation at Bestia tonight.” I was about to say something when his phone rang. Speaker. Mia’s voice spilled out. > *”Ry! You said you were taking me to that new sushi spot in WeHo today! I already confirmed our table — “* > > *”Don’t bail on me, I literally skipped breakfast waiting for you! “* Jude looked at me, palmed the receiver, and smiled. “You wanna come with?” I didn’t answer. He seemed relieved. He reached over and ruffled my hair. “See? Mia doesn’t mind eating with you at all. Cleo, stop treating her like your rival.” The voice on the phone kept calling. > *”Cleo’s coming too? Even better! I’ll order, I know exactly what Ry likes!”* Jude laughed into the phone. “Okay. I’ll tell her.” He hung up. Reached for my hand. I pulled back. “Jude.” “Yeah?” “I want to ask you something.” I looked up at him. “What am I to you?” “Cleo — ” His smile froze for a beat. “What do you mean. What I am. Girlfriend, roommate, friend. One word.” He sighed. That *here we go again* sigh. “Cleo. You’re being dramatic again.” I laughed. Not bitter. Not even sad. Just the kind of laugh that comes out when you finally figure out a question doesn’t have an answer. That was the moment I stopped asking. After Jude left, I opened the salon as usual. In the afternoon, a few regulars came in for fills. They picked colors and traded gossip the way young women always do. “Wait — you guys haven’t heard about Mia Vance? @MiaOnTheGas? Like, 180K followers, racing girl?” I didn’t look up. I kept brushing top coat across my client’s nails. “Oh yeah. She’s been thirsty lately.” “Her burner IG once posted something like, *‘Men with girlfriends treat me the best.’* So cringe.” “She’s always been like that. Remember Eli Cross? She called him *best friend,* did the whole *one of the guys* thing, had him fixing her car, and ran his girlfriend out of the scene.” “Right! Her favorite line is: *‘We’re just best friends, you’re overthinking it.’*” My gel brush paused for half a second. “She’s done this before?” One of the clients leaned in, suddenly more interested. “Oh, *honey.* The whole LA car scene knows. She targets guys with girlfriends. The angrier the girlfriend gets, the more Mia tells everyone the girlfriend is the jealous one. And the guys eat it up. They think she’s chill, understanding. not as much drama as their actual girlfriends.” The salon lights hit the gel polish, sharp and a little too cold. I kept smiling. Kept listening. Kept drawing more out of them with every coat. And suddenly Jude struck me as something pitiful — and a little ridiculous. His taste, it turned out, was nothing special. So before I walked out the door — I might as well leave him a parting gift.

The car meet had a Sunday canyon run planned. Mulholland trailhead. Jude offered to pick me up. He wore a black Aether jacket, his hair casually perfect, like a supporting actor from a GQ cover. “Let’s go, babe. Time to *properly* meet everyone.” He pulled the passenger door of the Porsche open for me and leaned in to buckle my seatbelt himself. “You always said I take Mia but not you.” He said, smiling. “So today, I’m taking you.” I knew what he was really doing. He wasn’t bringing me into his circle. He was pushing me in front of everyone so I would learn to *accept* Mia. …… At the Mulholland starting point, more than a dozen cars were already lined up. 911s, GT‑Rs, a modified RX‑7, an orange Lambo. The engines growled like restless beasts. Mia spotted me. Her eyes curled into crescents. “Cleooo! You actually came! Ry, you finally brought your *girlfriend* out to show off!” She drifted over, smiling. “Are you not gonna be scared in Ry’s passenger seat? See, I’m the opposite — the louder the brakes squeal, the more it gets me going. That’s just how I am.” The other car guys cheered. Jude frowned slightly. But Mia had already pulled open the passenger door. “Just kidding, Cleo. Don’t be nervous. I’m just worried you’re not familiar with the canyon roads. There are a lot of sharp turns. I’ll help Ry keep an eye on things will be easier.” Jude rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Mia knows the route well. Babe, you sit in the back. Safety first.” *Back seat. Canyon. Tight turns.* The three words snapped together and closed around my throat. …… > *Wet pavement* > *Screeching brakes* > *Mother’s blood‑swollen eyes* > *Tumbling sight* > *Swinging rescue lights* I had been nineteen. Mid-season in Formula Junior. A rainy night, driving home from a track day. I was at the wheel. My parents were in the back. I wasn’t the nail‑salon Cleo Ward back then. I had run a go‑kart development program. Won three consecutive West Coast championships. Coach Lena said I had guts and fast reflexes. If I kept training, **Formula 1 was a matter of time**. My father used to say it too. *”My daughter drives steadier than I do.”* But one rainy night, all those words shattered against the guardrails of Pacific Coast Highway. ……. The old dream rose up and drained the color from my face. I stood there, frozen. Jude thought I was making another scene. “Cleo, don’t embarrass me in front of everyone. It’s just a different seat. If you’re scared, I’ll drive slower. Okay?” Mia was already in the passenger seat, seatbelt fastened, waving at me. “Cleo, come on! I’ll help you watch the road!” The door closed. The city slid away behind us. Mulholland began to climb. At first, Jude really did drive slowly. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You okay?” I looked out the window. “Slow down.” “Okay.” Then Mia lifted her phone and went live on Instagram. The camera swept over the mountain road ahead, then over Jude’s hands on the wheel. *“Hi guys! Ry’s taking me flying tonight! This road is absolutely insane!”* The comments rolled in fast. “Ry, you used to carve that next corner so clean. C’mon, give us one!” Jude frowned. “Mia, don’t.” “Oh, come on, driving slow is boring.” She pushed the camera closer. “Is it because Cleo’s in the car? You scared?” The in‑car radio also had people egging him on. “Ry, don’t be a wuss!” “Show your girl what you’ve got!” I stared at the pavement ahead. It had rained the night before. Water stains still lingered in the shadows. I couldn’t help speaking. “The road’s wet.” Mia’s smile cooled a little. “Cleo, relax. We’ve run this road a million times.” I repeated, “Don’t carve.” In the rearview, Jude’s eyes flicked to mine, his brow pinched with impatience. “Cleo, I know you’re not feeling well, but don’t ruin everyone’s fun. I know what I’m doing.” I gripped the seatbelt with both hands. My breath kept shrinking, getting thinner. I heard my own voice come out small. “Stop the car.” No one heard. Or no one wanted to hear. ……. The car suddenly fishtailed. Tires scraped against the wet pavement. The world tilted. > *Brakes.* > *Mom’s scream.* > *Glass.* All the memories flashed before my eyes in an instant. Mia screamed first. “RYDER—!” After Jude steadied the car, his first reaction was to reach over and hold her. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” He unbuckled his own seatbelt, leaned half his body toward her, and pressed his hand to the back of her neck. I sat in the back seat, my ears ringing. I tried to open the door, but my hands wouldn’t work. A long beat passed before he remembered to turn around. “Cleo, look how scared Mia is. And you’re still making that face? We’re all out here trying to have a good time. Can you not be so tense?” In the rearview mirror, Jude kept talking. I didn’t hear most of it. With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone, found a moving company’s website, and sent them my address. 【Please come on time the day after tomorrow.】

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Julian’s lungs rattled with the Silver Rot, each breath a death rattle echoing through the packhouse. Seraphina heard whispers that a Lupine Heart could cure anything, even the blood-blight eating him alive. She didn’t hesitate. She ordered her guards to slaughter the Silver Soul-Wolf that had been bound to me for a millennium. Carve out its heart while it still beat. A millennium of Primal Guardian Essence turned to ash in seconds. I threw myself over the dying wolf. Every slash of the silver blade tore through my own chest like they were cutting into my ribs. “You know what I am!” I gasped, blood soaking through my shirt. “When the Soul-Wolf dies, I die with it!” Seraphina sneered. She peeled back the silver fur with her own hands, blood coating her fingers like war paint. “Only the Matriarch believes your lies about being some ancient guardian,” she hissed. “You think I’ll fall for this pathetic act?” Her eyes were cold, merciless. “It’s just a wolf. I’ll buy you another one if it means Julian gets to breathe.” My Primal Guardian Essence drained out in waves. My vision blurred as the bond shattered, and my eyes bled from silver to ash-gray. I stumbled toward the Matriarch’s chambers, clutching the jar that held what remained of my Soul-Wolf. “I’ve shielded your pack from disaster a hundred times.” My voice came out hollow, broken. “I’ve repaid the debt. My power is destroyed.” “Let me go.” — White smoke rose from the Soul-Wolf’s severed body like a departing spirit. The Pack Healer shook his head, his expression grave. “They struck the heart and spine in one blow. Whoever killed this wolf knew exactly what they were doing.” He met my eyes. “There’s no bringing it back.” I placed the bloody remnants into the jar. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The Soul-Wolf was linked to me through ancient magic. I felt phantom pain slice through my lower back where the blade had severed its spine. My face burned like the skin was being flayed off in strips. The Matriarch steadied me as I swayed. “I warned her a thousand times that the wolf was your life force!” Fury made her voice shake. “And she dared to carve out its heart with her own hands, watching you collapse!” My legs went numb. I forced myself to walk. Seraphina knew about the Soul-Link. Of course she did. But she still brought down that blade, her eyes locked on mine as I screamed. She grabbed my neck and hissed in my ear, her breath hot against my skin. “You’re a good actor. This is how you fooled the Matriarch, isn’t it?” Her smile was cruel. “You really thought I’d fall for your Guardian bullshit?” She ordered her men to cut out the heart. I fell to my knees, screaming until my throat bled. She threw the wolf’s corpse at my feet like roadkill. “If you really had a millennium of power in that thing, it must be potent medicine.” Her eyes gleamed. “If it cures Julian’s blood-blight, I’ll get you a new wolf to keep up your charade.” The butler rushed in while I was drowning in pain. He shoved a cardboard box into my hands. Seraphina’s orders. Bring it immediately. I forced my shaking hands to open it. A hawk burst out, yellow eyes locked on the jar. The hawk dove. I threw myself over the jar as talons tore into my spine. I tried to summon my power, fingers forming the ancient signs. Nothing happened. My Primal Guardian Essence was gone. I could only curl my body around the jar, protecting what little remained. Everyone knows wolves fear hawks the way prey fears predators. Even in human form, the terror was bone-deep. Primal. The hawk pecked holes into my back until the Matriarch’s guards beat it to death with iron rods. I lay motionless on the clinic floor. Then I heard a heavy thud beside me. The Matriarch knelt before me, her head bowed in shame. “Ethan, I never imagined my granddaughter could commit such an atrocity against her own fated mate.” Her voice cracked. “You are this pack’s Sacred Guardian, blessed by the Moon Goddess herself.” “I will find you a sacred place to restore your bloodline. Please, for the sake of your debt to my grandmother, forgive Seraphina this once.” I didn’t know how to respond. My mind was too fractured. A hundred years ago, the Matriarch’s grandmother found me dying in the mountains from a hawk attack. She brought me home, bandaged my wounds, nursed me back to health over long months. Out of gratitude, when I achieved my full ancestral power, I sought her out. I vowed to protect her bloodline for generations. Later, to save Seraphina from a death curse, I broke the Sacred Moon Vow. I took human form, trapping all my power inside the Soul-Wolf. But now Seraphina had destroyed the wolf herself. My power was gone. I looked at the Matriarch kneeling before me. My voice came out cold, hard. “I promised your grandmother I would shield her descendants from calamity. I’ve kept that vow for a century.” “But I’ve lost my Guardian powers. I’ve turned back a hundred disasters and sacrificed my immortality to save Seraphina when the Moon Goddess herself marked her for death.” “Consider your grandmother’s debt repaid in full. Let me leave this territory before what remains of me dies here.”

I limped home, the jar clutched to my chest. My legs barely held me. Before I reached the door, I heard moaning from inside. The sound made my stomach turn. “I heard ancient guardians have insane stamina from all that primal power.” Julian’s voice was lazy, satisfied. “Did Ethan keep you up all night with that freaky supernatural shit?” He laughed. “Now that I’ve eaten his Soul-Wolf’s heart, want to see if I’ve got his strength?” Seraphina’s arms wrapped around his neck. “He was never the one. You’re the only one who’s ever satisfied me.” I slammed the door open. The frame cracked. Seraphina didn’t even look at me. She stayed on Julian’s lap, lips locked, like I was invisible. Nothing. But Julian saw my eyes turning ash-gray in real-time, the silver light dying to nothing. He shoved Seraphina off, clutching his chest as he coughed violently. Blood speckled his lips. He pointed at me with a shaking finger. “Monster! Freak!” The more he yelled, the worse his coughing became. Seraphina rushed to pat his back. Then she whirled on me. Her hand cracked across my face hard enough to split my lip. “What trick did you just pull?” she screamed. “Are you trying to curse Julian to death?” Her heel ground into my foot with deliberate cruelty, pinning me in place. On the couch, Julian caught my eye and smirked. Still pretending to gasp for air. Then he pointed at the jar in my arms with greedy eyes. “Seraphina, my Luna, Ethan’s pet wolf’s heart worked so well for my Silver Rot.” He coughed between words. “I bet the meat would be even better medicine.” His smile was vicious. “How about some wolf stew to finish the cure?” Both of them turned their eyes to the jar. Predatory. Cold. I held it tighter against my chest. “Seraphina, you know I’m Soul-Linked to this wolf through my bloodline.” “If you turn it into stew, the boiling water will cook my organs while I’m still breathing.” She didn’t let me finish. She knocked the jar from my hands with one vicious swipe. It shattered on the floor. She ordered the butler to take the wolf’s remains to the kitchen immediately. The heat hit me within minutes. It felt like being thrown into a furnace. My insides cooking as the water boiled. I dug my nails into my thighs hard enough to draw blood, trying to fight through the pain. Diving into cold water didn’t help. Seraphina stormed in. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back. “Did you dye it on purpose? Planning to run to the Matriarch and get me in trouble?” She snarled in my face. “You always used your magic tricks to manipulate the old woman.” “You even claimed you traded your immortality to save my life! But Julian told me the truth.” Her grip tightened. “He’s the one who flew overseas to buy the real medicine. He fed it to me while you kept me locked in that room, refusing treatment, hoping I’d die!” She yanked me from the tub. Watched me writhe on the floor as the burning intensified. “You know this pack has a Sacred Guardian who grants the Alpha Female’s mate the Lunar Blessing of prosperity and long life.” Her eyes were full of contempt. “If I hadn’t believed your lies about saving me, I never would have accepted you as my mate!” “That blessing should have gone to Julian from the start. You need to step aside and let the right wolf claim what’s his!” I lifted my head. Forced a bitter smile through the agony. “He wants to steal the Moon Goddess’s blessing of longevity? That’s a fantasy.” He’d already destroyed the pack’s fate. There was no blessing left to steal. Hours later, they brought The Profane Feast to the table. A pot of stewed Soul-Wolf meat, its scent thick with ancient power and my own lifeblood. Julian devoured it like a starving animal, laughing as I collapsed against the wall, blood pouring from my nose and mouth. My organs were being cooked alive from the inside. Every bite he took was another layer of agony carved into my flesh. When he finished, he threw the empty bowl at my feet. “See? I’m cured! No more coughing fits!” He flexed his hands, grinning at Seraphina. “And I feel stronger than ever.” “Your precious Guardian was just a fraud all along.” Seraphina smiled at him with adoration. Then she turned to me with disgust. “The Matriarch is hosting a banquet tonight to celebrate Julian’s recovery.” Her voice was cold. “You’re banned from attending.” “I don’t want your cursed face ruining the celebration.” I crawled to my feet, using the wall for support. My vision was darkening at the edges. “The Moon Goddess doesn’t grant blessings to those who desecrate the Sacred Hunt.” My voice came out broken, weak. “You’ve destroyed my power. You’ve consumed what was never meant for mortal consumption.” “Now watch what happens when the Goddess withdraws her protection from this pack.” Julian laughed in my face. “Still threatening us with your make-believe curse?” “You’re pathetic. Get out of our sight.” I stumbled toward the door. Before I left, I looked back one last time. Seraphina was already in Julian’s arms again, kissing him like I’d never existed. Like she hadn’t just destroyed her fated mate and invited divine retribution upon the entire pack.

The Matriarch’s banquet hall glittered with expensive chandeliers and decorated tables laden with prime cuts of venison and roasted game. Pack members filled the space, celebrating Julian’s miraculous recovery from the blood-blight that should have killed him. Julian stood at the center of attention, soaking in the praise. Seraphina clung to his arm, her smile radiant. The Matriarch had banned me from the celebration. So I sat outside in the cold, my back against the stone wall of the packhouse. Listening to their laughter echo through the night. At midnight, the sky turned black. Storm clouds gathered from nowhere, blocking out the moon completely. The first bolt of silver lightning struck the packhouse roof. Then another. And another. The Silver Storm descended on the pack like divine judgment, each lightning bolt infused with lunar power that burned through flesh and stone alike. Inside the banquet hall, screams replaced laughter. Pack members ran for cover as the roof collapsed in sections, silver fire consuming everything it touched. The Matriarch rushed outside, her face pale with terror. She grabbed my shoulders. “Ethan, please! Whatever anger you hold, whatever curse you’ve called down on us—stop this!” “I’ll make Seraphina apologize! I’ll exile Julian myself if that’s what it takes!” I looked at her with hollow eyes. My hair had turned completely white in the hours since Seraphina destroyed my Soul-Wolf. “This isn’t my doing, Matriarch.” My voice was empty. “This is the Moon Goddess withdrawing her protection.” “Your pack’s ancestors desecrated the Sacred Hunt for profit a century ago. I was the only thing standing between your bloodline and divine retribution.” “Now that my power is gone, she’s collecting what you owe.” Another bolt of silver lightning struck, this time hitting Julian directly. He screamed as lunar fire seared through his chest. The Soul-Wolf’s heart he’d consumed began to burn inside him, cooking him from within. Seraphina ran to him, trying to shield him with her own body. The lightning threw her back, leaving scorch marks across her arms. “Ethan!” she screamed, her voice raw with panic. “Ethan, please make it stop!” “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything! Just make it stop!” I didn’t move. Didn’t respond. Julian collapsed to his knees, coughing up chunks of blackened flesh. The Silver Rot he thought he’d cured was returning with a vengeance, multiplied by the divine power now destroying him. The Soul-Wolf’s heart was rejecting his body, tearing him apart from the inside. “Ethan saved you once before, at the cost of his own immortality.” The Matriarch’s voice shook. “He broke the Sacred Moon Vow to give you human life.” “And you repaid him by destroying his Soul-Wolf with your own hands.” She grabbed Seraphina by the throat, rage overtaking grief. “You’ve damned this entire pack for your selfish cruelty!” Seraphina tore herself free, running toward me on her knees. Blood streamed down her face from cuts left by falling debris. “Ethan, I was wrong! I was so wrong!” Tears mixed with blood on her cheeks. “Please, I’ll do anything!” “Just save Julian! Save the pack!” I looked down at her without emotion. “The Moon Goddess doesn’t forgive those who betray their Sacred Guardians.” My voice was cold as winter frost. “This is her judgment, not mine.” “Pray for mercy if you want. But I’m done protecting you.” I walked away from the burning packhouse. Away from the screams and the smell of silver fire consuming everything I’d once protected. The Matriarch’s pleas followed me into the darkness. But I didn’t look back. My debt was paid in full. Whatever happened to them now was between them and the Goddess.

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The end-of-season hunt concluded the same way it always did in the Grey Stone Pack. Alpha Elena stood at the head of the carcass and called the kill division, her voice carrying the full weight of her rank. Jax stepped forward and claimed the prime organs. He snatched the heart and liver while they were still steaming, taking the raw cuts only high-ranking wolves were allowed to touch. He held them in both hands and never once looked in my direction. I was handed an insult wrapped in gristle. Elena tossed me the bones Jax had already cracked open and sucked dry. His saliva still clung to the marrow, and the stench of his satisfaction was baked into every fracture. It was the kind of scrap a wolf throws to a stray. For five years I had kept Grey Stone’s walls from crumbling. I built their Silver-Trap Boundary System from salvaged wire and old ward components. I reset the perimeter triggers by hand and worked three straight nights during the Rogue siege so the rest of the pack could sleep in their dens. Now I was expected to feast on Jax’s leavings. Alpha Elena found me at the equipment shed later that evening. She leaned in the doorframe with her arms crossed, a smile cutting across her face like a blade. “Silas,” she said, her voice laced with false warmth. “The north ridge ward-triggers are failing again.” “I know,” I said, keeping my back to her. “Regional Alpha Greaves arrives in nine days. We need the perimeter running clean before he sets foot on our land.” She stepped closer. “Fix the wards, Silas. Do this for the pack and I’ll personally push your Transfer Order to the Royal Pack.” I set my wrench down and stared at the dark wooden wall. She had made this exact promise when I rebuilt the flood barrier. She made it again when I ran the emergency generator alone through the siege. For five years she used that Transfer Order as bait, but Jax was always the one who walked away with the reward. “No,” I said. The word came out flat and final. Elena’s smile didn’t move, but her eyes sharpened. “Excuse me?” I turned around and met her gaze. “I said no. I’m done being your pack mule, Elena.” The shed went quiet. Elena studied me for a long moment. “Don’t be reckless. Stay and fix the wards, and I’ll personally guarantee the next Release Order goes to you. No committees. No delays. You have my word as Alpha.” Before I could answer, Jax appeared in the doorway. He was still picking bits of liver from between his teeth, dark blood staining his chin like a badge of his unearned rank. “Elena’s doing you a favor, Omega,” he sneered, dragging the word out like he was scraping mud off a boot. “You should be on your knees thanking her for even noticing you.” He leaned against the frame with a gap-toothed grin. “Tell you what, I’ll let you smell my heart-cut. Maybe that’ll cheer you up.” I wiped the last of the grease from my hands and looked past him to Elena. “Don’t bother. I’m transferring to the Blood Moon Pack. They’ve already offered me the position of Master of Wards with thirty pounds of fresh kill every month, and they put it in writing.” Elena’s composure cracked. “Blood Moon? You go there and you’ll be a masterless stray with a tool belt. They only want your skills, Silas. The second you stop being useful, they’ll drop you like a Rogue carcass.” I buckled on my tool belt and stepped toward the door. “You’ve used me for five years while I starved. At least Blood Moon is honest about what my work is worth.” Elena’s warmth vanished completely. Her eyes went cold and flat. “You need my Alpha’s Seal on your Pack Severance Order. Without my mark, you go nowhere. You will stay in Grey Stone, Silas, because I am the law here. Now fix those ward-triggers. That is a command.” She turned and walked out without a second glance. Jax lingered a moment longer, whistling a taunting tune before following her into the dark. I stood alone in the shed. I thought about the seventeen Rogues who never breached our territory because of the traps I built. I looked at the gnawed bones in the rag, smelled Jax’s stale scent on them, and made my decision. I walked to the north ridge boundary panel and stripped out every custom piece I had ever installed. I pulled the hand-tuned silver-trigger pulses and the pressure wards I had calibrated with my own sweat. Pack property could stay. But my work was leaving with me. On my way back I stopped at the supply post. Old Bren didn’t look up from his pipe. “Nothing for you, Silas. Alpha Elena reallocated your ration to Jax for his supply run to the High Council. You’ll have to manage.” A hollow laugh escaped me. Elena’s “guarantee” was already being paid for with my stolen food. As I walked away I heard Bren muttering to a woman nearby. “Serves him right, playing the hero over those ridge trees when we could have sold the timber.” I didn’t stop. Three years ago I saved those trees because they formed a natural flood barrier keeping the pack dens dry. They called me a traitor then. They were starving me now. I had chosen their lives over their gold, and I would make that same call again. But from this moment on, the fate of the Grey Stone Pack was no longer my concern.

Jax sauntered up to Bren’s window with his hands in his pockets, acting like he owned the whole ridge. “What’s all the noise about?” he asked, all false concern. Bren filled him in on my refusal with obvious pleasure. Jax listened with his head tilted like a patient elder, then turned to me with the look of a man watching a rabid pup. “Silas, man,” he called out, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “Walking out on your pack over a few scraps? What does that say about your loyalty to the bond?” A woman behind Bren shouted her approval. The crowd pressed in tight. Jax’s mouth curved into a slow, satisfied grin. “He told Elena flat out that Grey Stone was beneath him. He called every wolf here a stray.” A massive wolf named Cutter stepped forward and jabbed a finger at my face. “That true, Silas? You calling us strays after everything this pack gave you?” I looked Jax in the eye, my voice flat. “When did I ever say that, Jax?” Jax blinked with wide-eyed innocence. “Right there in the Alpha’s office. That’s why she stormed out. You going to deny it now?” The crowd erupted. Insults flew. They called me an ungrateful traitor and a mutt. Cutter spat at my feet and accused me of refusing to fix his signal-stone because I thought I was better than everyone else. “Cutter,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Your stone cracked because you dropped it off the watchtower. I lent you mine for three weeks, and you still haven’t returned it.” I turned to Marta at the gate post. “The east wards failed because lightning hit the power relay. I spent the whole night on that post so the pack’s entire grid wouldn’t burn out. I got to your triggers the next morning.” The noise dropped. The truth has a way of doing that. But Jax stepped in quickly to keep the anger alive. “That’s the problem with Silas. He keeps score. Every job is a transaction to him, not an act of loyalty.” “Spoken by a wolf who has never done a real day of work,” I said, and pushed past him. I walked to the equipment shed with Bren scrambling behind me, yelling about pack property. I opened the control panel and turned to face him. “Pack property stays, Bren. I’m only taking what’s mine.” I pulled out the custom silver-trigger pulse and the hand-built scent nodes I had assembled from salvage. Bren started sweating the moment he realized I was gutting the heart of the system. “You’re killing the boundary!” he hissed. “I’m removing my parts,” I said, straightening up. “The system will run at forty percent. That’s exactly where it was before I arrived.” I looked over at Jax in the doorway. “You’re the star now, Jax. Fix the wards with that silver tongue of yours. I’ll be watching.”

I went home and slept deep and dreamless for the first time in weeks. Without my custom triggers, the boundary was wide open. A determined Rogue could find the gaps in a matter of hours. By evening, Bren was pounding on my door with three Enforcers behind him. “Silas! The east perimeter is throwing dead zones!” I didn’t open my eyes. “Ask Jax,” I said. “Jax doesn’t know how to—” “Ask. Jax.” I heard them shuffle away into the dark. That night, Jax spent his own gold at the Council outpost to buy generic replacement parts. He came to my window at dawn to brag. “See? The pack doesn’t need you, Omega.” I watched him from behind the glass. He had no idea the generic parts were incompatible with my custom housing. He didn’t know about the manual recalibration the cold required, or that the two systems would fight each other until they failed completely. The Regional Council visit was in eight days and the temperature was dropping. I smiled and went back to sleep. That evening, I caught the Blood Moon signal: two low owl calls spaced three seconds apart. I slipped out the back to find their Beta, a massive wolf named Drum, waiting in the shadows. He handed me a bundle of fresh venison and a flask of dark ale. “Alpha Rhen sends his regards,” Drum said quietly. “He says you’ve been patient longer than anyone should have to be.” “Where do we stand on the severance?” I asked. “Alpha Rhen went straight to the Regional Council to bypass Elena. It’ll take six more days for the Emergency Release to process. Hold on until then, Silas. Whatever they put you through, it ends soon.” I nodded. The warmth of a good meal settled over me. Six days. I could wait six days.

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A package arrived. VIP contract from the city’s most exclusive Elite Postpartum Retreat. Patient name: Elena Morrison. I stared at it, confused. Then I called Leon. “Babe, why are you booking this so early? I’m only three months along!” Silence on the other end. A few beats too long. Then his gentle voice came through. “Sweetheart, I’m new at this whole dad thing. I want everything perfect for you. Don’t worry about it—I’ll handle it when I get home.” My chest warmed. I teased him for being ridiculous. “You’re not clueless. You’ve been amazing.” Leon was everyone’s golden boy—the perfect husband who anticipated my every need through this pregnancy. Attentive. Thoughtful. Loving. But when I pulled out the contract, my fingers froze. Estimated delivery date: next month. My baby was only three months along. The realization hit like ice water. His “first time being a father” wasn’t about my child. His experience came from another woman. *** It’s a printing error. Had to be. That’s what I told myself, even as my fingers betrayed me and pulled up the retreat’s website. I dialed. My voice stayed steady. “Hi, I need to verify an order. Last four digits 8867. Patient name Elena Morrison.” “One moment, please.” The receptionist’s voice dripped with professional warmth. “Ms. Morrison, your reservation is confirmed. Estimated delivery date is the 15th of next month. You’ve booked our premier suite. Mr. Morrison paid in full. The contract has been mailed!” My hand trembled around the phone. “You’re certain it’s… Elena Morrison? My ID number is—” “Confirmed, Ms. Morrison.” She cut me off. “Mr. Morrison specifically noted that you’re carrying twins and will need special care. Rest assured, we have state-of-the-art facilities and a 24-hour medical team. You and your babies will be in excellent hands.” Twins? I ended the call. Sat on the couch. My hands and feet went numb. The name was right. ID number matched. But I was carrying one baby. Only three months along. This retreat was expensive—the kind of place that could handle a walk-in delivery the day before labor and still provide white-glove service. So why book months in advance? Whose babies were being born next month? *** Leon came home after midnight. I sat in the dark, the contract spread on the coffee table. I’d read that line so many times I could recite it from memory. “Elena?” He flipped on the light. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” I didn’t answer. Just looked at him. He walked over, eyes soft, leaning down to kiss me. I turned my head away. “Elena?” Confusion crept into his voice. “Leon.” My voice came out calmer than I expected. “I got the contract today.” “Why does it say the delivery date is next month? And twins?” He paused mid-motion. Then he laughed. Crouched in front of me and took my hands. “I was going to tell you—their system made an error. I already contacted them to fix it.” He looked up at me, eyes filled with that familiar tenderness. “Babe, you’re pregnant. You can’t stress yourself out like this. It’s not good for the baby.” If this were before, I would’ve believed him. But this time, I didn’t miss the flash of panic in his eyes.

“System error?” I slowly pulled my hand away. “Then how did they get my pregnancy timeline wrong too?” Three months ago, when I found out I was pregnant, he cried. Said he’d never forget that day. But now this contract had two dates—and neither one matched my pregnancy. I looked at him, hoping he’d give me a reason I could believe. He said nothing. I felt my throat tighten. “It’s because their premier suites are so limited, isn’t it? That’s why you rushed to book it.” “Elena—” Leon stood, turning his back to me. His shoulders were rigid. Finally, he spoke. “Her name is Liana. She’s an intern at our company.” The name hit me like a gunshot. His voice dropped. “Last year at the holiday party, I had too much to drink… She’s young. She’s under a lot of pressure right now…” Too much to drink? I almost laughed. Didn’t anyone tell him that when he’s drunk, he can’t even get it up? “After that night, she got pregnant. Turned out to be twins.” His voice got quieter. “She wanted to terminate, but I said no. They’re two lives…” I finished for him: “So she’s giving birth at the retreat under my name?” “That way you get to keep your ‘perfect husband’ image.” “After all, your wife—Elena Morrison—is pregnant.” “Everyone will assume I gave birth to them. And your bastards become legitimate heirs.” Leon’s eyes stayed down. “You even made yourself a cover story,” I said, smiling through tears. “How thoughtful.” “Elena, I love you. I’ve only ever loved you.” He crouched down again, gripping my hands. “She was an accident. I have no feelings for her. I just…” “I just couldn’t let a young girl go through an abortion. It would damage her body. Once the babies are born, she’ll leave. I promise.” I looked at this man—the one I’d married three years ago, the one I thought I’d grow old with. My heart turned to ash. “You couldn’t bear to make her terminate… So I should?” Pain flickered across Leon’s face. Then he went silent. No more explanations. No more protests. No more declarations of love. That silence cut deeper than any words. He was waiting for me to say it. He didn’t want my baby. The thought struck like lightning. My entire body went cold. “Elena.” He looked up, pain still in his eyes—but what came out of his mouth was colder than anything before. “That girl has been… unstable lately. Threatening to hurt herself because the babies won’t have legal status.” He paused, the sympathy in his eyes undisguised. “Two days ago, she slit her wrists with a fruit knife. We caught her just in time.” He lowered his gaze to the floor. “Your body is strong. You recover fast. And you’ve had a miscarriage before, so one more time won’t matter.” My blood turned to ice. “What did you just say?” He didn’t look at me. Kept staring at the floor. “She’s different,” he said. “She’s only twenty-three. First pregnancy… She’s alone in this city, no family, no support.” I opened my mouth. No sound came out. “I know this hurts you.” His grip on my hand tightened. “But we can try again later. Your body is resilient—you got pregnant again after the last miscarriage. This time will be fine too.” He looked up, actual tears in his eyes. “Just… do this for me. Please?” I stared into those eyes. Heard every word. And I laughed. “Leon.” My voice came out soft. “Do you remember why I miscarried last time?”

He froze. “Because your mother thought I wasn’t good enough for you. We argued. She pushed me down the stairs.” His face went pale. “I was twenty-three then too. First pregnancy. All alone—I’d left my city, my parents, everything to be with you.” My tone stayed flat. “You don’t remember, do you?” “Elena, my mom didn’t mean to—” “I know.” I cut him off. “That’s why I forgave her.” “I believe she didn’t mean it. She looked terrified afterward.” “She just didn’t expect that you were standing right behind me… and you didn’t catch me.” Leon’s face drained of color. “Elena, how can you think that?” His voice rose. “That was my first child too. How could I deliberately not catch you?” I looked down at his hand gripping mine. That hand hadn’t caught me three years ago. And now, three years later, it was asking me to terminate again. “So.” I pulled my hand away. “Your mom pushed me, you failed to catch me, we lost that baby—all just accidents?” “Yes! Accidents. Nobody wanted that to happen.” “Then tell me.” I locked eyes with him. “Is this time an accident too?” He went silent. “Her pregnancy was an accident? You demanding I abort is an accident?” Each word landed like a hammer. “Leon, how is it that all your family’s ‘accidents’ happen to me?” His face flushed red. The room stayed quiet for a long time. So long I thought he wouldn’t speak again. Then he did. “Elena, what do you want me to do?” He looked up, eyes bloodshot. “It’s you on one side, her and two babies on the other—what the fuck am I supposed to do?” I stared at him. “What am I supposed to do? That’s what I should be asking you.” My voice cracked into a scream: “She’s young, first pregnancy, abortion would hurt her body—so she can’t be harmed, but I deserve it?” “That’s not what I meant—” “Then what DID you mean?” He said nothing. I looked at this face I’d known for three years. Suddenly it seemed like a stranger’s. So unfamiliar I didn’t even recognize who he was anymore. “Leon.” My voice steadied. “You’re asking me to kill my own child to make room for someone else’s. Do you know what that’s called?” His lips moved. “It’s called murder.” Each syllable deliberate. “You want me to murder my baby so I can raise your bastards.” “Elena—” I slapped him. The crack echoed through the room. His face whipped to the side. He stood frozen. My palm stung, but my chest hurt worse. “That slap was for my baby.” My voice didn’t shake. “Remember—you’re the one who didn’t want him.” “We’re getting divorced.”

He clutched his cheek, and there was even grievance in his eyes. “You can hit me. But don’t you dare say divorce.” “I told you—I never wanted to cheat. Our marriage is fine—” His phone rang. He hesitated for a few seconds, then walked away to answer. When he came back, his eyes held conflict. “Emergency at the office. I need to go.” I didn’t respond. “Just… cool down. We’ll talk when I get back.” He took a step toward the door, then turned back. “Given her condition, I have a responsibility to look after her right now.” “She’s about to give birth. I won’t have time for you these next few weeks. You’d be miserable anyway, heavily pregnant with nobody around.” “Better to do it while it’s early… You’ll suffer less.” “Once her babies are born and registered under your name, you’ll still be Mrs. Morrison. The children will be legitimate. Between us, nothing will change.” He looked at me, waiting for me to nod. But I had no energy left to deal with him. He sighed and left. The door closed. I stared at it and laughed. He made such perfect sense. She was giving birth. He had no time for me. I’d be alone, pregnant, with nobody. So better to terminate first? The night outside was deep. I sat motionless until dawn. The doorbell rang. I finally moved to answer it. Leon’s mother stood there with my sister-in-law Olivia, who’d just married into the family. “Elena, sweetie.” Olivia grabbed my hand immediately. “Mom got the call last night and couldn’t sleep. We came at first light to check on you.” The old Mrs. Morrison pulled me to sit on the couch. “I know you’re hurt. I’ll talk to Leon. But Elena, you need to understand his position too.” “That girl is carrying twins. Two lives.” I looked at her kind face, listening to her talk about “understanding” and “compassion.” “Mom.” My voice came out hoarse. “So you agree with Leon? I should abort my baby?” Her expression didn’t change. “They’re all my grandchildren. Of course I’d rather not lose any. But that girl threatened suicide. One wrong move and it’s three deaths.” She patted my hand. “The Morrison family can’t do something so immoral.” Immoral? Making me kill my own child wasn’t immoral? I yanked my hand back and stood. “I can’t do it.” My voice was firm. “This is my baby. Three months along. He has a heartbeat. I won’t abort him.”

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