Category: English

I spent eighteen years raising a false cub, while my own cub was sold by my younger sister, and even my husband knew the truth from beginning to the end. At that day, I was cleaning my son’s room when I found a document he had brought home from school. Shifter Bureau — Pre‑Coronation Lineage Profile. I flipped to the section marked *Predicted Species Manifestation*. *Felidae – Panthera onca (Jaguar) dominant traits detected.* I stared at those words. I stopped breathing. I am a snow leopard. My father was a snow leopard. My mother was a jaguar. My husband Caelan was a Cheetah. There is no way our genes could produce a pure jaguar dominant trait. In our entire family, the only one with jaguar dominant blood is my younger sister. Mirabel. I took the file to Caelan. My polite, soft-spoken husband took one look at the page and exploded. “Our son is about to have his Coronation Shift. What else do you want, Sylvana? You’re always suspicious of everything. Are you losing your mind again?” “Caelan.” I kept my voice level. “School predictions aren’t always accurate. I want a formal bloodline test at the Shifter Medical Center.” “Absolutely not.” He slapped me twice. Hard. Then he slammed the door and locked it from the outside. I listened to the lock turn. Then I laughed. Eighteen years of marriage. Eighteen years of devotion. All of it, wasted on a man who’d lock his wife inside her own house. I picked up my phone. I called my husband’s biggest competitor. “I agree to transfer my patents to your company.” …… I hung up. A bitter cold settled in my chest. There shouldn’t be any problems with the school’s documents. The school tracked their half-shifts for ten years — ears, tails, eye color changes, partial markings — then sent the data to the Bureau. The Bureau used it to predict what species the kid would manifest at their Coronation Shift. Every Shifter kid got one before their eighteenth birthday. And Hayden was coming home next week for his. His first full transformation. Not a public ceremony—like a human signing for their first ID card — just official paperwork confirming you’d become an adult Shifter citizen. But now, what should i do? What a fool I had been. For years, big companies had tried to recruit me. I said no to all of them. For Caelan. For Hayden. I stayed in the shadows behind Vicksmore Group. That patent was worth a trillion. I’d never taken a cent of dividends. I sat on the couch until three in the morning. Caelan came home late. We sat in the dark. Neither of us spoke. We had good years once. When he first started the company, I stayed up with him through the nights, rewriting his pitch decks. When I got tired, I’d lean on his shoulder and doze. He used to say, “Sylvana, when the company is big, I’ll give you everything.” The company made it. Then he was never home. When he came back, he was too tired to talk. I said the house felt empty. He said, “You have Hayden.” I’d say I wanted to go to the Shifter Reserve to shift, get some air. He’d say, “Have my assistant take you. I’m swamped.” I stopped asking. I told myself this was what marriage looked like. Passion fading into companionship. Romance into family. Now I realized only one of us had made that shift. And he had turned into something else. …… At dawn, I went to the kitchen. Caelan was already there. He hadn’t cooked in a long time. “You’re up?” He looked back at me. Dark circles under his eyes. “I made breakfast.” Milk. Toast. Fried eggs, slightly burnt. He sat down. Neither of us mentioned yesterday. “Hayden comes home next week.” I paused with my cup halfway to my lips. “I know.” His voice dropped. “Sylvana, don’t overthink this. I promise I’ll spend more time with you and Hayden.” I looked up at him. I’d looked at this face for eighteen years. Watched it grow from boyish to lined. I used to know when he was lying. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. The way his eyes softened before he told the truth. Now I couldn’t read him at all. I looked down. “So when are we doing the bloodline test?” The warmth on his face froze. Then it disappeared. “You’re really doing this?” His fork clattered onto the plate. Then he looked at me with what seemed like disappointment and walked out of the house. I remembered when Hayden was small. Everyone said he looked like Caelan. No one ever said he looked like me. Not once. From age seven, his half-shifts had always shown pale fur and faint scattered spots. Classic Cheetah cub. Caelan was wealthy. He hired private doctors to run all of Hayden’s checkups. Every report came back the same. **Cheetah dominant.** And me? I wasn’t a geneticist. I was an engineer. So I’d believed it. For eighteen years.

I walked to the balcony and watched his car leave the garage. Then I went to his study. A divorce petition and an asset division agreement sat on the desk. I’d drafted them a year ago. Just in case. The patent that built Vexmoor Corporation — I owned a hundred percent of it. But Caelan had forgotten that. He’d started treating it like his own. My phone rang. My mother. “Sylvana, feeling better?” Her voice was light. “Your sister is coming back next week. Caelan knew you weren’t feeling well, so he booked her ticket himself that she could come back and help you. So He’s giving her a director’s position at Vexmoor.” A director’s position. I worked for the company for years. No title. No recognition. She comes back and gets a office. A few scattered memories surfaced. Caelan and Mirabel — when had they gotten so close? And she was coming back. Caelan arranged it. Mirabel. The name made my eye twitch. “It’s been so long since you two saw each other,” my mother went on. “We’re all coming over for dinner next week. One family together.” I kept my voice steady. “What time? I’ll get food ready.” “Don’t worry about it! We’ll bring the food. You just rest.” She paused. “Sylvana, listen to me. Be warm with Caelan tonight. Men have their pride.” I couldn’t listen anymore. I made a few sounds and hung up. Then I booked a rush appointment at the Shifter Medical Center. The Bureau-affiliated facility. The only one whose results were legally binding. No private doctors. No forged reports. I went into Hayden’s room and pulled hair from his comb. After I sent them to the center, I messaged a private investigator. Check Caelan’s financial records. Everything. Twelve hours later, the lab report came to my inbox. I sat in the study and stared at the file for a long time. Then I opened it. I skipped to the last page. “By official determination of the Shifter Medical Center, Ms. Sylvana is not the biological mother of Mr. Hayden. Tested subject shows Cheetah × Jaguar hybrid (F1) bloodline. Complete conflict with registered maternal snow leopard lineage.” In my gut, I’d known. But seeing it written down was something else. My hands started shaking and couldn’t breathe. I stood up and walked to the window. Eighteen years. I closed the file. I walked to the window. I tried to breathe. Outside, autumn had come to the city. The plane trees were turning gold. Far in the distance, the dome of the Shifter Bureau caught the afternoon light. I’d had a happy family once. And I thought they would be the two people I protected for the rest of my life. My phone buzzed. From the investigator. A few screenshots- Bank transfers. Caelan’s personal account had been sending fixed monthly transfers to an overseas account for at least ten years. The overseas account belonged to Mirabel. Not a small amount. But enough to keep one person living comfortably abroad. The last line of the report said: **Ms. Mirabel owns a property overseas. Purchased nineteen years ago. Paid in full. ** Nineteen years ago. The year I was told I was pregnant. The same year Mirabel went abroad. A dark thought formed in my mind. …… On the weekend, my parents arrived with bags of food. Mirabel came behind them. Cream suit. A gift box in her hand. “Sylvana.” She smiled and stepped forward to hug me. I turned slightly. She missed. Her smile froze for a second, then went back to normal. “Long time no see. I brought you a present.” The dining table filled up fast. My mother bustled around the kitchen. My father and Caelan settled into the living room, talking shop. Mirabel sat naturally in the chair next to Caelan. I frowned but said nothing. At dinner, Mirabel reached for a dish. A sapphire bracelet slid down her wrist. I stopped chewing. I had seen that bracelet at an auction two years ago. Stunning blue. Rare clarity. I wanted it, but the price was too high. Caelan had said, “If you like it, just get it. Money’s not a problem.” I said, “Too expensive. Forget it.” Later, I asked him about it. He said someone else had bought it. Now it was on Mirabel’s wrist. “Sylvana, what are you looking at?” Mirabel noticed my stare. She turned her wrist playfully. “Pretty, isn’t it? Caelan gave it to me. He said it suits me.” Caelan choked on his soup. He looked up at me. “A welcome gift. For Mirabel’s new job.” “Right,” my mother jumped in. “We’re family. What’s wrong with a gift between family? Sylvana, don’t be petty.” I didn’t say anything. I just looked at Caelan. He avoided my eyes. Mirabel smiled again, her voice soft. “Don’t misunderstand, Sylvana. I just think some things look better on the right person. Like this bracelet. Doesn’t it shine more on me than it did in that auction case?” She was watching Caelan when she said it. I knew that look. It was smug. Possession. The way a woman looks at a man she thinks belongs to her. After dinner, Mirabel volunteered to wash the dishes. Caelan stood up and said he would help. They walked into the kitchen together. I sat in the living room. I heard water running. Low voices. Mirabel’s soft laugh now and then. The Bonding Mark on the side of my neck itched. A faint heat. Like fingertips brushing it through the skin. I had felt this for eighteen years. Every time I mentioned it to Caelan, he smiled and said I was just sensitive. “Some shifters are more aware of their marks. Nothing serious.” “But I never felt this before…” “You haven’t shifted in forever. Your body’s out of practice.” He always said that. I always believed him. Now I knew the truth. The resonance wasn’t mine. It was hers. And every time I told him something was wrong, he called me sensitive. Every single time. My mother slid onto the sofa next to me. “Sylvana, look at how helpful she’s being. She came back to support Caelan. You could be a little warmer to her. You’re her sister.” My father weighed in too. “Caelan built that company from nothing. Having family on the inside is good for him. You’re the older sister. Have some grace.” I turned to look at my father. “Dad. Caelan is my husband. Mirabel is your other daughter. Don’t you think they’re too close?” His face darkened. “What are you implying?” “What if I told you,” I said quietly, “that Hayden might not be mine?” Both of them froze. My mother recovered first. She grabbed my wrist. “Sylvana! Don’t say things like that! Of course Hayden is your son. What’s gotten into you?” My father slammed his hand on the table. “Enough! You really do need to see a doctor. Caelan was right.” That was the last thing I needed to hear. Their reactions killed the last bit of hope I had. They only cared about Caelan. About what he gave them. Theynever knew that Vexmoor only existed because of me.

After everyone left that night, I turned to Caelan. “I’m going to stay at the old house for a few days. Sort through some things.” He didn’t ask questions. “Want me to drive you?” “No.” The old house is where my parents, Mirabel, and I used to live. My parents moved away after I got married, but many of our old belongings are still there. I went up to the attic and searched through somthing old. In a leather suitcase, I found things Mirabel had left behind. Diaries. Photos. A small metal box. I opened the box. Inside were letters. The top envelope was yellowed. But the handwriting was neat and careful. **To Caelan.** I pulled out the page inside. *Caelan, you came over again today to see my sister. The way you looked at her made my heart hurt. I know I shouldn’t feel this way. I’m sorry. I love you.* Another one. *Caelan, I heard you and my sister are getting married. She’s so lucky. If I had met you first — would things be different?* My hands started shaking. I kept reading. The last one was not a letter. It was a photo. Mirabel and Caelan standing under a cherry tree. Her head on his shoulder. Her hand on her belly. On the back, in her handwriting: The one not loved is the mistress. I held the photo. My fingers were ice cold. It had started so early. And I’d been like the fool, I had been too blind to see. So where was my real child? I pulled out my phone. I drew in one long breath. I texted the investigator. *Check the records at the Shifter Maternity Center. June 21, 3:00 to 5:00 PM. * *Also — check Mirabel’s full overseas history. Focus on any birth records.* Then my home security app sent an alert. Motion detected in living room. I frowned. Caelan should be at work. The housekeeper was off. I opened the live feed. The camera pointed at the sofa. Mirabel walked into the frame. Caelan sat there, tie loose around his neck. Mirabel was wearing a thin silk slip dress. She was sitting in Caelan’s lap. Her fingers were working slowly down the buttons of his shirt. Caelan wasn’t pushing her off. His hand slid up her back, into her hair, then down to her waist. I felt it. My bonding mark burned. Not imagined. Not oversensitive. Real. For eighteen years, he had told me I was imagining things. The Mark had been resonating the whole time. With another woman. I watched the screen until I couldn’t anymore. Then I turned it off. I ran to the bathroom and threw up. Nothing came out. Just acid burning all the way up my throat. My phone vibrated again. And again. And again. The investigator. “Ms. Shaw. I found it.” “Mirabel entered Country M in July. In August, she gave birth to a full‑term baby boy at a private shifter clinic in Country M. Registered species: Cheetah × Jaguar hybrid (F1).” “I also retrieved the records from the Shifter Maternity Center for your delivery date. One snow leopard female infants were born that afternoon. The hospital has since closed. Original records lost.” “But in november of that same year, when Mirabel returned to Country M, she had a baby girl with her. Approximately five months old.” “The girl’s registered name is Una. Underground Shift Market are illegal in Country M Chinatown. Minors will forced to shift for spectators. When they grow up, they are made to fight each other there for gambling purposes.” “Due to her rare species (snow leopard), Una has been forced to shift three to four times a week since she was eight. Her body shows extensive scarring, both from combat and from human-form beatings. ” “Mirabel collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.” Photos came with the messages. A dimly lit corner of a back alley. A small silver leopard curled in a cage. Ribs showing. Fur dull. An unhealed scar over its left eye. Next photo. A close‑up of an arm. Bruises layered over older bruises. I stared at the screen. My daughter had been out there. Forced to shift. Forced to fight. Forced to be beaten. Forced to give her money to the woman who stole her. Hate flooded through me. I stood up. My vision went dark for a few seconds. I caught the wall. Dug my nails into my palm until the pain brought me back. I cried for a long time until my eyes were dry. Then I sent everything to my lawyer. Then I called AF Group. Vexmoor’s biggest competitor. “I’ll sign the patent transfer tomorrow. But I have one condition. Vicksmore Group must go bankrupt.” A low laugh came from the other end. A calm male voice. “Done.” I hung up and looked at all the evidence on my phone. Caelan. I made you. And I will break you.

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Julian Thorne, the Silicon Valley tech titan, commissioned a diamond ring worth one hundred million dollars just for me. In an exclusive Forbes interview, he declared that this ring was made for only one person. Whoever could wear it perfectly would become his wife. In my first life, my half-sister Bianca went to a plastic surgeon. She had her finger bones shaved down by two millimeters. When she walked into the bridal suite, confident as a queen, Julian grabbed her by the hair. He smashed her face into the marble countertop until she was unrecognizable. “You are not her!” In my second life, our adopted sister, Harper, starved herself insane. She lost seventy pounds in four months. On her wedding night, Julian pushed her straight off the spiral staircase of the penthouse. She died instantly. “Still not her!” In my third life, my stepmother Victoria went to a black-market doctor. Under general anesthesia, she had the cartilage of her finger removed just to force the ring on. The moment Julian saw her, he held her head underwater in the jacuzzi until she stopped breathing. In my fourth life, the three of them were terrified. Trembling, they pushed me forward. I put on the ring. It was a perfect fit, down to the micrometer. My whole family let out a sigh of relief. But the moment Julian saw me, his eyes turned maniacal. He pulled a custom hunting knife from his suit jacket. Twenty stabs. He avoided every vital organ, letting me bleed out slowly in agonizing pain. “Why isn’t it her? Where the hell is she?!” Now, in this final life, Julian’s chief attorney brought that legendary diamond ring to the Ashford Manor. We four women spoke in unison: “The ring doesn’t fit. None of us can wear it.” The lawyer pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, eyeing us with a creepy intensity. “Mr. Thorne is certain that the woman he is looking for is among the four of you.” He paused, his voice dropping to a freezing temperature. “She needs to reveal herself within 48 hours. Otherwise…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but the threat hung in the air like a blade.

We four women—my stepmother Victoria, my half-sister Bianca, my adopted sister Harper, and I—sat around the genuine leather sofa in the living room. We stared at the glittering diamond on the coffee table. The air was so thick it felt like we were suffocating. “Jesus,” Victoria lit a slim cigarette, smoke curling around her red lips. “We’ve all died once. Who the hell does this lunatic want to marry?” Bianca clutched her Hermes Birkin bag, her voice trembling. “Maybe we should call the police? Tell them he’s a serial killer?” “The police?” Harper laughed bitterly. “You think they’ll believe ‘we were all murdered by a billionaire and then reborn’? They’d throw us straight into the psych ward.” I stayed silent, my brain replaying the scenes from my last life on a loop. On our wedding night, Julian had walked into the bedroom wearing a dark blue silk robe. The moment he saw me, that breathtakingly handsome face twisted into a demonic snarl. “You lying bitch!” He screamed, lunging at me. “You dare try to replace her?!” When the knife pierced my body, I could hear the sound of skin tearing and muscle severing. Twenty cuts. He skillfully avoided anything that would kill me quickly, ensuring I suffered. “You’re just a distraction.” He leaned over, looking at me like I was a bug. “Did you really think you could replace her and marry me? A nobody without even a single share of the Ashford family stock?” I struggled in a pool of my own blood for three hours before I finally died. “Serena?” Victoria’s voice snapped me back to reality. “What are you thinking?” I took a deep breath. “I’m thinking… maybe we can find the woman he’s actually looking for.” “How?” Bianca challenged. “Start from the beginning.” I stood up. “Remember what the lawyer said? Julian saw us at the Met Gala and decided the mystery woman was connected to the Ashford family.” “That gala…” Harper’s eyes lit up. “They have surveillance footage!” “Exactly.” I grabbed my Chanel clutch. “We’re going to the Ritz-Carlton. Now.” Victoria stubbed out her cigarette. “Let’s go.”

Ten P.M., at the Ritz-Carlton near Central Park. Harper deserved an Oscar. A few tears were all it took to melt the heart of the hotel’s security chief. She sobbed about losing her late mother’s pearl necklace and begged to check the footage from that night. The chief was a middle-aged man with a classic “white knight” complex. He handed Harper a tissue. “Don’t cry, miss. I’ll take you to the security room.” On the monitors, the charity gala ballroom glittered with gold. Because my father—the former head of the Ashford family—had died of a heart attack three months ago, our family’s status on Wall Street had plummeted. That night, we were shoved into a corner table. Just the four of us at a table for eight. “Look,” Bianca pointed at the screen. “There’s Julian Thorne.” In the video, Julian walked down the red carpet. He wore a custom Armani suit, standing at least 6’3″. His dark brown hair was perfectly styled, and his blue eyes looked like the Pacific Ocean. Trailing behind him were at least twenty bodyguards and assistants. The entire ballroom stood up to applaud. Women looked at him with hunger; men looked at him with envy. Number seven on the Forbes list. Net worth of 85 billion dollars. Thirty-two years old. Single. The “Modern Howard Hughes” of Silicon Valley. He walked slowly through the venue, and then— He stopped right by our table. On screen, the four of us were arguing quietly, completely ignoring him. But Julian turned and looked deeply at our table. That look… “Oh my god,” Victoria gasped. “He’s smiling.” It was true. Julian Thorne, the man known as the “Iceberg” in business negotiations, was wearing a gentle, affectionate, almost obsessed smile. Like he was looking at the most precious treasure in the world. Then, he turned and whispered something to his lead attorney. “Can you zoom in?” I asked the security chief urgently. “Can we see what he’s saying?” The chief adjusted the controls, but the angle was off. We couldn’t read his lips. “Keep watching,” Bianca said. The footage showed that for the rest of the night, only the four of us sat at that table. No one left, no one else approached. Just us. “So…” Harper’s voice shook. “The woman he wants is really one of us?” I stared hard at the screen, and suddenly, I noticed a detail. “Wait.” I told the chief to pause. “Rewind thirty seconds.” The footage went back. I watched our actions closely. Victoria was on her phone. Bianca was reapplying lipstick. Harper was cutting her steak. And me… I was texting someone under the table. And I had a sweet, stupid smile on my face. “Damn it.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I remember now.” Three pairs of eyes snapped toward me. “That night, I was texting Julian,” I whispered. “Because we were… secretly dating.”

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Three years after I died, nothing grew near the estate. The grass turned black. The trees twisted inward, skeletal and choking. Anyone who wandered too close collapsed within hours—fever dreams, screaming fits, unexplained wounds opening across their skin. The tabloids called it a plague. A curse. They called it me. The headlines screamed: “Dead Detective’s Vengeful Spirit Terrorizes Town—Former Fiancée Breaks Silence.” Serena had no choice. The board was watching. Her new luxury development—the crown jewel of her empire—sat less than two miles from my rotting estate. Investors were pulling out. The press was circling. So she did what she always did. She came to finish me off. — The black SUVs rolled up the gravel drive in a slow procession. Rain hammered the windshields. The manor loomed ahead— Serena stepped out first. Designer boots. Black trench coat. Her face was beautiful. Julian climbed out behind her. Golden-haired. Soft-eyed. The picture of wounded innocence. She pulled him close, shielding him from the wind. “Stay behind me,” she murmured. The Occultist emerged last. Dr. Miriam Ashford. Grey hair pulled tight. Wire-rimmed glasses. She carried an old leather case, buckles clicking as she moved. Serena surveyed the estate. “God. Even dead, my husband Ethan’s a nightmare.” Julian’s voice was small. Trembling. “Serena, are you sure we have to do this? He’s my brother. Maybe we should just—” “Your brother?” She turned, eyes cold. “Your brother was a liar and a cheat. He’s dead, Julian. And he’s still making my life hell.” She looked back at the house. “I should’ve buried him at sea. Let the sharks have him.” But she didn’t know. I was standing right next to her. My ghost. Invisible. Weightless. And my body? Rotting beneath her feet.

The manor swallowed us whole. Inside, the air was thick. Wrong. Even at noon, the light couldn’t penetrate. Shadows pooled in corners like oil. Julian was sweating. His hand clamped around Serena’s wrist. “Serena, please. I don’t feel good. Can we leave?” She shook him off. Irritation flashed across her face. Dr. Ashford moved slowly through the foyer, her equipment humming. EMF readers. Infrared scanners. Sigils drawn in chalk. She stopped in the center of the room. Her face went pale. “This place…” Her voice was barely a whisper. “The resentment here is catastrophic.” Serena crossed her arms. “Can you fix it or not?” “Maybe.” Dr. Ashford’s jaw tightened. “But first, we need the body.” “Then find it.” “It won’t be easy. Whoever did this… they knew what they were doing.” She pulled a small obsidian blade from her case. Black. Gleaming. “We’ll need this. It’s the only thing sharp enough to sever the tether.” Serena didn’t blink. “Then let’s dig.” — They found my grave behind the manor. Overgrown. Forgotten. The headstone had toppled. The inscription was illegible, covered in moss and cracks. Serena gestured to the workers. “There. Dig.” Julian looked sick. “Serena, this is—” “Shut up.” Her voice was ice. “You’ve been having nightmares for weeks. This ends today.” The workers broke ground. One meter down, they hit wood. The coffin was cheap. Rotting. The lid sagged inward, half-collapsed. Serena stepped closer. “Open it.” The workers pried it open. Silence. No body. Just medals. Dozens of them. Service commendations. Citations for bravery. Detective of the Year. All of them stained dark—rusted, crusted with something black. Blood. One of the workers picked one up. “What the hell…?” Dr. Ashford leaned in. Her face drained of color. “This is an array,” she breathed. “A ritual.” Serena’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of ritual?” “The worst kind.” Dr. Ashford pulled a compass from her bag. The needle spun wildly, then locked—pointing directly at the manor. “The body isn’t here. It’s inside.”

They entered the manor again. This time, the air felt alive. Watching. The compass went berserk the moment they crossed the threshold. The needle spun so fast it cracked. Dr. Ashford cursed. “We’re standing on top of it.” “Then where—” A crash. Serena whirled around. Julian had stumbled into a side table. A porcelain vase shattered on the floor. “Jesus, Julian—” “I’m sorry, I—” He froze. “Wait.” Among the shards, something small and leather-bound. A journal. Serena picked it up. Flipped through it. Blank pages. Nothing. She sneered. “Of course. Even his diary is useless.” She moved to tear it apart. Dr. Ashford snatched it from her hands. “Don’t.” “Excuse me—” “This isn’t blank.” Dr. Ashford’s voice was sharp. She began muttering under her breath—Latin, old Welsh, something ancient. The pages began to shimmer. Words bled through. Ink appearing like wounds opening. “It’s a death diary,” Dr. Ashford whispered. “Written by the deceased. Hidden by a curse.” Serena’s face twisted. “Read it.” Dr. Ashford opened to the first page.

Dr. Ashford read aloud. Her voice was flat. Clinical. “Today is my twentieth birthday. Serena came to the house to celebrate with me. I was so happy. But Julian was there. Always there. He kept cutting between us. Wouldn’t let me talk to her. Pressed himself against her side like a child. I tried not to be jealous. He’s my brother. He’d never hurt me. I remember the day they found him. Ten years lost. Ten years of Mom and Dad crying, searching, praying. I swore I’d protect him. But after he came home, everything changed. Mom and Dad stopped looking at me. It was like I didn’t exist. I burned my hand making them breakfast once. They didn’t even notice. Just threw the food away. But Julian? He brought them a cheap souvenir from a trip, and they carried it everywhere. Showed it to everyone. Bragged. It’s fine. He deserves it. He suffered. At least I still have Serena. She’ll never leave me.” — Dr. Ashford paused. Serena’s face was stone. Julian shifted uncomfortably. Dr. Ashford continued. “Julian got hurt doing one of his extreme sports stunts. Damaged his kidney. Mom and Dad asked me to donate mine. I said no. I was in the middle of my detective certification exams. The surgery would take months to recover from. I’d miss my shot. They begged. Guilted. Screamed. But it was Serena who strapped me to the operating table. Serena. I woke up with one kidney and no future.” Serena’s jaw clenched. “That’s a lie.” Dr. Ashford didn’t stop. “Thunder last night. The worst storm in years. Serena used to be terrified of storms. She’d curl up in my arms, shaking. But last night, she locked me in my room. And went to Julian’s. He called her. Said he was scared. She didn’t even look back.” “October third. I’ll never forget this date. A car hit me. I was bleeding. Broken leg. I begged them to call an ambulance. Serena refused. She said I was faking. Said I just wanted an excuse to see ‘that doctor.’ I don’t even know who she’s talking about. She locked me in a room. Alone. For a full day. By the time she let a medic in, the damage was permanent. I’ll never be a detective now. She said she loved my dream. My dedication. My desire to serve. But she clipped my wings herself.”

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After the divorce, I spent a million the hottest male escort in the city. The price was worth every penny—he was gorgeous, ripped, and knew exactly how to please. Photos of me and the mysterious man on my penthouse balcony spread through the entire social scene overnight. The next morning, my ex-husband Sebastian Brooks showed up at my door. He had his men drag the man away, then turned on me with ice in his eyes. “Where did he touch you?” I smiled lazily. “Lips, breasts, between my legs—everywhere you used to like. He touched it all.” Rage flashed in his eyes as he barked orders to security. “Break his legs. Throw him in the gutter.” I stripped off my soaked blouse and headed for the shower. “Do whatever you want.” Three years ago, my best friend Miranda sent me a video. She questioned why I’d hidden my illness and let my daughter donate her liver to save me. In the video, my daughter was lying in a hospital bed, beaming with pride. “I love my mommy more than anything! I’m donating my liver to her voluntarily! Mommy, get well soon!” I stared at my perfectly healthy medical report, completely confused. I wasn’t sick. So who the hell was this “mommy” my daughter was donating her liver to? I immediately instructed my assistant: “Freeze my husband and daughter’s cards. And draft divorce papers.” “I won’t fight for custody. Let her have her precious mother-daughter bond!”

Following the address Miranda sent, I rushed to a private hospital on the outskirts of the city. Miranda had just flown in from the airport. She looked like she wanted to say something but held back. I shook my head. “Save it, girl. We’re going to catch them red-handed!” As we approached the VIP ward, security stopped us. “Sorry, CEO Sebastian has reserved this entire floor for his wife’s liver transplant surgery. No unauthorized personnel allowed!” Miranda’s brow furrowed as she looked me up and down. “His wife? Lily, are you sure you’re not sick? ” “Don’t hide it from me. I’m the best transplant surgeon in the world. If you’re ill, I’ll treat you!” I rolled my eyes. “You’re the one who’s sick, babe!” Then I turned to the guard, teeth clenched. “I’m Sebastian Brooks’ ‘friend.’ I’m here to visit his wife, Lily Sterling, and their daughter Chloe!” The security guard scoffed, eyeing me with pure disgust. “You can’t even get CEO Sebastian’s wife’s name right, and you’re trying to kiss ass? Get this through your thick skull: His wife is Victoria Vance! The sole heiress to the Sterling Empire!” “I’ve seen plenty of nobodies like you trying to suck up with gifts. Leave them here and get lost!” Miranda’s frown deepened. “Sterling Empire? Isn’t that your family’s company? Who the hell is Victoria Vance?” Rage boiled in my chest. I’d already pieced together the truth. Victoria, the woman Sebastian always called “just a friend.” Also known as “mommy” to my daughter Chloe. Miranda’s eyes widened in shock. Finally, she understood what was happening. She took a deep breath and pulled out her credentials. “I’m the lead surgeon for this operation. I just flew back from overseas.” The guards exchanged nervous glances and finally let us through. The hallway outside the ward was packed with people. I immediately spotted Sebastian and Victoria, arm-in-arm, soaking up compliments and congratulations. “Mr. Brooks and CEO Victoria—what an enviable power couple!” “The most enviable part? CEO Victoria gave Mr. Brooks such a sweet, devoted daughter!” “So young, yet willing to risk her life to donate her liver to save her mother! That little girl is truly Ms. Vance’s treasure!” Victoria looked smug. “What can I say? I’m absolutely obsessed with my daughter! Back when we wanted to conceive her, I had to beg Sebastian to try eighteen different positions before we finally succeeded!” I frowned instinctively. Sebastian was conservative. In all our years of marriage, he’d been prudish about sex—never willing to experiment. Even saying something flirty would earn me a cold glare and accusations of being shameless. But now? He wasn’t angry at all. Instead, he playfully scolded her. “How dare you say something like that in public?” Sebastian wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close shamelessly. “Did I lie? To give birth to our sweet Chloe, you practically drained me dry! I deserve a medal!” The crowd erupted in laughter. Some people joked they wanted to learn her “advanced techniques.” Sebastian grinned and pulled Victoria closer, pretending to reenact one of their positions. My blood boiled. “You bitch!” I lunged forward and slapped Victoria hard across the face. It happened so fast no one could react. Sebastian gasped and rushed to catch Victoria before she stumbled. He turned on me, furious. “Who has the guts to lay a hand on my wife?” Chloe, who’d been lying in the ward waiting for surgery, came running out. “Mommy, are you okay?” The next second, both father and daughter froze when they saw me. Chloe stopped in her tracks and shrank back. I laughed bitterly. “Sebastian Brooks, you’re such a devoted father! You’re actually letting my daughter donate her liver to your mistress?”

The hallway fell silent. Countless eyes darted between me and Chloe, confused and curious. “Wait, she’s saying CEO Victoria’s daughter is hers?” “Then what about Mr. Brooks? Is CEO Victoria cheating on him?” The whispers made Sebastian flush with embarrassment. “What the hell are you talking about? Chloe is Victoria’s daughter! Who gave you permission to slander us?” “Lily Sterling, I’m begging you—stop clinging to me like a pathetic stalker! I’ve told you a thousand times, I already have a wife and a child…” He tightened his grip on Victoria’s arm. Victoria smirked and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry, babe. I won’t let anyone come between us. After all, except for my few days each month, you’re in my bed every single night, servicing me in every way I ask. Where would you even find time to cheat?” A few clever lines, and suddenly everyone was looking at me with disgust and contempt. They’d nailed me to the pillar of shame as “the mistress.” I laughed in disbelief. “Sebastian Brooks, put your hand on your heart and say it again! Who’s the real homewrecker here?” “Who is Chloe’s mother?” Miranda’s face darkened. She snapped at them. “This is insane! Without Lily Sterling’s consent as Chloe’s biological mother, who gave you the authority to let her donate her liver to a stranger?” Victoria’s expression soured. “Who the hell are you? This isn’t your business!” Sebastian took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “I’ll say this one last time. My wife is Victoria Vance! Chloe is our daughter!” “Lily, I know exactly what you’re trying to do! You want to sabotage my wife’s surgery so you can swoop in and take advantage!” “Dream on! Security—throw them out!” The crowd suddenly understood. “This homewrecker is disgusting! Trying to sabotage Ms. Vance’s surgery right before it starts? That’s basically attempted murder!” “What are you waiting for? Call the cops!” “Thank God we didn’t believe her lies. If we’d delayed Ms. Vance’s surgery, who could handle the Sterling Empire’s wrath?” Victoria shook her head with a theatrical sigh, her eyes full of mockery. “Can’t blame her. My husband is just too irresistible!” “But sorry, Ms. Sterling—Sebastian only has eyes for me!” “Honestly, I didn’t want Chloe to go through with this. But she loves me so much, she cried and begged to donate her liver to save her mommy!” I was shaking with rage. “You sick bitch! Chloe is only fourteen years old!” Even with Sebastian’s two bodyguards holding my arms, I forced myself forward and kicked Victoria hard in the stomach. Her face went white. She clutched her abdomen and collapsed. “Sebastian… it hurts… Am I going to die before the surgery?” Sebastian rushed to support her, then turned on me, his voice venomous. “Pin that bitch down!” The bodyguards obeyed. They grabbed my arms and slammed me to the floor. My face smashed against the cold tile with a sickening crack. Blood filled my mouth. “Sebastian Brooks, have you lost your mind? You’re attacking me for this whore?” Sebastian stood over me, panting. He snatched a rubber baton from one of the guards and slammed it into my head. Pain exploded through my skull. Blood poured into my eyes, blurring my vision. Then he stepped on my head. “If anything happens to Victoria’s surgery, I’ll make you pay with your life!”

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I attended my boyfriend’s company year-end gala as his guest — and it was the last place I expected trouble to find me. His “best buddy,” Stella Vance, leaned into Damian’s side and sneered at me with a smile. “Miss Aria, I’ve heard some interesting things about you.” She tilted her head. “Your mother clawed her way up as a mistress, and after you came of age, you continued the family tradition — bouncing from one sugar daddy’s bed to the next. Only recently did you manage to snag Damian.” She paused, as though savoring the moment, then added sweetly, “Oh, and I’m very close with your plastic surgeon, by the way.” She pressed her fingers to her lips in mock horror, cutting a glance at Damian. “Oops. I forgot — women who claw their way up through surgery and seduction hate having their past dragged out. Damian, don’t be mad at me, I just can’t help being honest.” Damian’s smile froze on his face. A second ago he’d been bragging to his colleagues about my looks and my so-called “good family background.” I looked at Stella Vance more carefully. The longer I stared, the more familiar she seemed. Then it clicked. Wasn’t this the woman who’d simultaneously strung along over a dozen high-ranking Mafia bosses — scheduling conflicts and all — until their wives put out a joint hit on her? She’d shown up on her knees outside my family estate, begging for her life. I’d taken pity on her and had the contract lifted. I wonder, I thought, how thrilled those bosses’ wives would be to know she was here tonight. I quietly reached into my clutch and switched on my voice recorder. As the next head of the Philadelphia Mafia, I had one rule: run things like a legitimate operation. Evidence first. Always. The moment Stella finished her little speech, every admiring glance that had been directed at Damian curdled into something else. A colleague laughed awkwardly to ease the tension. “You must have the wrong person. Miss Aria comes from serious money — she’d never need to be anyone’s mistress.” Stella didn’t deny it. She only sighed, slowly and deeply. “True. Credit where it’s due — her mother was clever. Selling herself to a rich man, becoming his mistress for the money. Not everyone has that kind of forward-thinking.” She smiled. “Though, honestly? I wouldn’t want that kind of ‘old money.’ It’s tainted.” I felt a cold jolt in my chest. She actually dared. If my father — the man who had built an empire just to spoil my mother — ever found out what she’d just said, Stella Vance wouldn’t be safe anywhere in Philadelphia. Noticing my expression shift, Stella curled further into Damian’s side. “Did I say something wrong again?” she murmured up at him, all soft eyes and helpless shrugs. “I’m sorry, I’m just not as calculating as some people. I say what I think.” I bit down on every urge to slap her. I had just issued a directive that the family was not to strike women without cause. While I was distracted, my wine glass tilted. Red wine splashed across Stella’s white dress. She shrieked. Her eyes filled with tears on cue. “Sis-in-law — you’d get violent just because I told the truth?” She shook her head in disbelief. “You should be impressed that you pulled it off, honestly. I’m almost jealous of how convincingly you’ve fooled everyone.” Damian’s face went cold in an instant. He picked up the napkin from the table and began carefully dabbing at Stella’s dress. Then he turned his glare on me. “Stella’s always been blunt — she doesn’t mean any harm. What the hell is wrong with you?” He pointed at me, jaw tight. “Apologize. Now.” I almost laughed. Stella had spent the last ten minutes spreading slander about me, and Damian had stood by without a word. But the second his precious “buddy” got a wine stain, he was ready to go to war. Stella wiped her eyes and pressed her cheek against Damian’s shoulder. “It’s fine. I probably mistook her for someone else. I was just joking around.” I looked at her, my voice flat. “Claims require evidence. I don’t have a sense of humor. I don’t understand jokes.” The words were also for Damian — a quiet reminder. Don’t believe things without proof. Damian blinked. His hand, still holding the napkin to Stella’s dress, slowly stilled. Stella stiffened almost imperceptibly. She was losing her grip on him. But she recovered fast, her eyes going wide with wounded innocence. “I’m sorry. That’s what your surgeon told me. I shouldn’t have repeated it without checking.” I rested my chin on my hand and studied her. “Which clinic? Which surgeon?” If she named one, it was evidence. I expected her to stumble. Instead, she looked at me with sudden, earnest sincerity. “Sis-in-law, even without surgery, you wouldn’t be that bad-looking. There’s really no need to go in for touch-ups a dozen times a month.” The table went quiet. Colleagues exchanged glances, disgust flickering across their faces. A female colleague sitting beside Stella gave a long, knowing smile. “The world really does belong to women like her — get a little work done, spread your legs, and suddenly you’re rich and untouchable.” “Not like Stella and me.” She gestured between them with false modesty. “We’re all natural. We believe in marrying for love.”

Damian cared about his image more than anything else. He’d brought me to this gala specifically to show me off. He hadn’t anticipated being embarrassed. He knocked back an entire glass of whiskey without looking at anyone. I kept my voice level. “My monthly income is two hundred thousand. Damian’s is thirty thousand.” I looked at the colleague. “Tell me again — who’s the one being kept?” The man with glasses across the table snickered. “Two hundred grand a month? That’s quite a ‘specialty,’ sis-in-law.” “Damian’s the real winner here,” someone else chimed in. “Most men burn through cash dating — he found one where a whole rotation of benefactors fund his lifestyle. Ha!” “Enough.” Damian slammed his fist into the glasses-man’s face, shattering his frames. I felt nothing. I knew he wasn’t defending me. His ego had simply taken a hit. The man with broken glasses clenched his fist, ready to retaliate — but at that precise moment, the emcee’s voice boomed from the stage, spotlight swinging to our table. “Next up — table five! We need everyone from table five!” The whole room turned to look. The glasses-man uncurled his fist and swallowed his anger. For now. The game was simple. Each person at the table shared one moment from work that had moved them. The person who told the best story won their choice of a prize. The first few stories were unremarkable. A boss who remembered someone’s coffee order. A client who said “thank you” for once. When it was Stella’s turn, she slid her eyes to me — a quick, deliberate glance — and smiled. “Last month, I drank too much at a client dinner.” Her voice was soft, confessional. “I called Damian at two in the morning.” “He was on a business trip, but he came straight back. Looked after me the whole night…” She paused. “Later, I found out his girlfriend had been trying to reach him that same night.” Murmurs of approval rippled through the tables. “That’s Damian — always puts people first.” “Dependable when it counts.” The applause swallowed me whole. I sat completely still, as though the chair beneath me had turned to ice. That night, I’d been in a car accident. My phone shattered on impact. The only number I had memorized was Damian’s. He answered in one ring, told me he was traveling, and went unreachable. I nearly died that night. After I was discharged, Damian knelt at my hospital bed and beat his own face with his palms, over and over. “Aria, I was only working so hard because I wanted to marry you — I wanted to give you everything. I swear I didn’t know it would be that bad.” I looked at him now. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. His jaw was locked tight. The emcee declared Stella the winner. She was invited to choose a prize. She scanned the table of options and spotted a luxury med-spa VIP card. She gasped in theatrical delight. “Damian ignored his girlfriend for me that night — she’s the one who loves going under the knife. Consider this my apology to her!” She laughed. Then she turned, and her gaze found me in the crowd. Her voice climbed two registers. “Actually — she’s here! She’s at the gala tonight! She’s right there!” The spotlight operator followed her pointing finger and flooded me in white light. Voices erupted. “She’s had work done? She looks so natural.” “That kind of result must cost a fortune.” Stella grabbed the microphone from the emcee. “Don’t worry about the cost, everyone — she pulls in two hundred thousand a month.” She let the smile hang on her face, loaded with implication. A wave of knowing sounds rolled through the room. Men began looking at me the way they’d look at something for sale. I fixed my gaze on Stella, my voice quiet and precise. “Spreading rumors without evidence is dangerous. Some statements carry consequences.” She hummed dismissively and pulled out her phone. She held it up so the whole room could see. “I’m not spreading rumors.” On screen: a before-and-after photo from a plastic surgery clinic. The “after” image — the successful result — was my face.

Laughter and mockery rolled through the room like a tide. “Worth every penny — even a pig can become a beauty queen! Incredible!” “Which surgeon did this? I need a referral!” I stood up, ready to speak. Damian crossed the room in three strides and slapped me across the face. “Aria!” He seized Stella’s phone, his eyes burning with a fury that looked almost like betrayal. “I worked eight years in advertising — I know what an unedited photo looks like! The lighting is consistent. The skin texture matches. You lied to me. This whole time.” I didn’t answer. I straightened slowly. The desire to explain had died somewhere along the way. What I was quietly calculating instead was simpler: that slap was worth five fingers. His. Stella touched Damian’s arm, her voice honeyed. “It’s fine. Girls like pretty things. A little surgery is perfectly normal.” She tilted her head at me. “Not like us — I barely even moisturize.” I looked at Stella’s perfectly blended, meticulously applied “no-makeup makeup” and smiled to myself. When I got around to pouring makeup remover on her face, she’d discover exactly what she actually looked like. The emcee announced the next segment — a duet performance. Stella and Damian. I watched their backs as they walked up to the stage, side by side, and let my mind wander. Damian wasn’t wrong about the photo. It wasn’t retouched. But the “before” and “after” were two different people. What I was truly puzzling over was simpler: how had Stella Vance gotten hold of my university ID photo? I opened a message thread and sent a task to my team. [I want everything on Stella Vance. Thirty minutes.] On stage, Damian dropped to one knee. He sang to Stella, eyes full of something I used to think was reserved for me. “Say you’ll marry me today…” Something hollowed out inside my chest. When had the man who once seemed to blaze with light become so dim? I remembered the first time I’d met Damian. I was abroad, robbed clean, standing on a foreign street wondering whether to call in a family favor. Then he appeared. He’d draped his own coat over my shoulders, walked me to the embassy, stayed while I filed a police report. He had no money to spare, but he pressed every bill in his wallet into my hands. The day they caught the thief, he was more excited than I was. Beneath the Eiffel Tower, he’d confessed his feelings and sworn himself to me — only me, always. Back in Philadelphia, he forgot every word of it. He’d walk out of a movie at the best part because Stella called. He’d murmur her name in his sleep after a few drinks — “I’ll drink her share, don’t give her a hard time.” His family dinners never had a place for me, but Stella was always at the head of the table. I reached for my purse, done with all of it — and felt my phone buzz. My team had responded. [Boss. Stella Vance is a serious problem.] [The case files are ready. Say the word.] I frowned and tapped the link they’d sent. Stella’s influencer profile loaded on my screen. I scrolled for two seconds. Then my breath stopped.

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The Pack headquarters was silent in the dead of night. My breathing was rapid, and blood was dripping down my skin, soaking my clothes. My feet fluttered on the carpet, and the drops of blood on the ground were like an angry warning, telling me that everything was beyond redemption. I was covered in scars all over. Last night, in order to save the Alpha, Caden Westbrook, I alone led away the assassination operation of the hostile Rebellion Pack. At that time, I thought that everything I did for him would eventually earn a response and a trust. Now, standing at the door of his office, I find myself completely wrong. Through the half-open door, I heard his deep voice interwoven with another she-wolf’s light laugh. That voice was all too familiar to me – it was Ava, Beta , one of the members of the Wolf tribe whom I once regarded as friends and companions. “You are really becoming more and more charming.” Ava’s voice was sweet, interspersed with a teasing tone, as if nothing had ever happened. Alpha Caden’s voice was deep and lazy, as if he were enjoying all of this. “You know, I’ve been tired of her for a long time.” Alpha Caden’s cold voice rang out, “I didn’t completely abandon Seraphina because she was my Mate and the Council elder.” At that moment, it seemed as if the whole world had fallen silent. I stood there motionless at the door, my heart feeling as if it had been crushed by some heavy object, unable to breathe. I pushed the door open forcefully. Immediately, a strong smell of alcohol and perfume hit me in the face, so intense that it made me want to vomit. On the sofa, Alpha Caden and Ava were entangled with each other, hugging and kissing, while I, standing before them, was like an insignificant prey. I said nothing, just lowered my head, feeling completely humiliated from the inside out. “Alpha Caden!” I gritted my teeth and almost squeezed out these two words through the gaps between them. He slowly raised his head, his gaze wandering. There was a look of shame in his eyes, but also a kind of natural coldness. “What are you doing here? Have all the people from the Rebellion Pack been diverted?” At that moment, I could hardly believe his words. He showed no concern for me at all, and such a shameless expression appeared on his face. My eyes were pricked by the light and felt a little moist. Ava smiled even more smugly, closing in step by step, and contemptuously lifted my chin: “Why pretend to be pitiful? When you were a hostage for Alpha Caden back then, weren’t your eyes in such good condition?” I suddenly had a sharp pain in my head. In the kidnapping case three years ago, I was taken hostage instead of Alpha Caden. Feral Wolf shone a powerful flashlight directly into my eyes to force me to obtain the confidential password of Pack, resulting in eye damage. At that time, my eyes had already begun to have problems. Although I tried my best to endure, I couldn’t fully recover. Nowadays, my right eye still goes blind from time to time on rainy days, and my left eye is always photophobia and tears. I wanted to fight back, but I was powerless to hold on. Standing at the door, I even found it hard to catch my breath. “Did you hear that? He said he was tired of you.” Ava approached me, sneering coldly and pinching my neck with both hands. “How can you be worthy of being Alpha Caden’s Mate in your current state?” Alpha Caden stood up, casually pushed aside Ava’s hand and walked up to me. He slowly lit a cigarette, with a sarcastic smile on the corner of his mouth: “Since you want an answer so much, then let you take a good look.” He looked at me coldly and casually threw the lighter onto the marriage contract we once signed together. It was at my 18th coming-of-age ceremony. After the Moon Goddess decided on him as my Mate, he urged me to sign. How tender and affectionate she was back then, Alpha Caden’s attitude took a sudden turn for the worse after that kidnapping case three years ago. I tried my best to save her, but it still ended up in this situation today. The firelight ignited that piece of paper, spreading rapidly and burning up all the former promises and memories. I looked at him, and tears couldn’t help flowing down. The flames on that piece of paper shone on Alpha Caden’s collarbone, where the traces of Ava’s kiss were still clearly visible – he once said that only I could leave a mark on him, but now, it was clearly Ava who had taken my place. My hand feebly touched the eye drops in my pocket. Enduring the excruciating pain in my eyes, I dropped a drop. The liquid, along with the blood streaks, dripped onto the charred marriage contract. The firelight made everything even more dazzling. My vision blurred a little, but I still stared fixedly at Alpha Caden’s face. “Seraphina, do you think you deserve him? ” Ava suddenly grabbed my hair and forced me to raise my head, “Haven’t you always lived a comfortable life?” Back then when you were taken hostage, there was nothing wrong with your eyes. I felt a chill coming from between her fingers, and that sneering scent made me tremble uncontrollability. Every word Ava said was like a sharp knife, cutting across my heart. Don’t go too far. I raised my head, trying to resist with all my might, “We once -” “Once?” Ava interrupted me, and the smile on her face became even more sinister. “Do you think it ever had any meaning?” Now you are just a burden. Alpha Caden finally came up to me. He didn’t look at me again. Instead, he threw the burned marriage contract into the trash can and casually left me behind. If you keep making a fuss, I’ll make you disappear completely. Alpha Caden said coldly, her tone devoid of any emotion. He pressed the bell on the table and a Warrior in a black uniform came in. Take her away. I was coldly dragged away by Warrior, with almost all my strength drained. My eyes began to blur. Blood dripped onto the carpet and I felt like I was about to fall. But no matter how I struggled, I was always powerless. Thrown into the solitary confinement room, I curled up in the corner in pain. The intense pain on my ribs almost made it impossible for me to breathe. Last night’s assassination hurt two of my ribs, and today’s betrayal has completely broken me down. I tried hard to hold back my tears, unable to believe that all this could happen to me.

I lay on the hospital bed, my eyes fixed on the white chandelier above my head. My heart felt as if it were being pressed by heavy stones, and my breathing became heavy. I clenched the bed sheet tightly, feeling the sweat on my palms soaking through. The risks of the surgery are like a knife hanging over one’s head, refusing to go away. Before, I didn’t dare to have surgery. The risk of death during the operation deterred me. I’m afraid that Alpha Caden will be sad after my death, and I can’t accept leaving her either. But now it’s different. He’s as if he has never cared about me. Similarly, I should also get out of the current predicament. Pack Doctor pushed the door open gently and came in. His deep voice broke the silence of the room: “Seraphina, are you ready for it? The operation can be carried out at any time, but you know, the risk of death during the operation cannot be avoided.” I took a deep breath and avoided the doctor’s gaze with my eyes. I once kept delaying because I was too afraid to face the possibility of leaving Alpha Caden. Now, I have been severely hurt by him, breaking all my self-protection. I finally understand that continuing to endure and remain silent is no longer the life I want. “Pack Doctor, I… I decide to have an operation.” Pack Doctor raised his eyebrows slightly, as if sensing my determination. He approached, picked up the scalpel and gently stroked it: “This is a decision concerning your life. I will do my best.” I closed my eyes, held back the tears at the corners of my eyes, and nodded weakly, “I can’t wait any longer.” The surgical process is like a silent dream. “The operation was very successful. ”Pack Doctor said. I woke up from the anesthesia in a daze. The world before my eyes was still blurry, as if everything was shrouded in grey mist. But I could feel the intense pain in my eyes. My right eye seemed to be torn apart, and it seemed that every blink would trigger the pain in my heart. I squeezed my wrist hard and forced myself not to shout. A few days later, when I regained my sight, the severe pain in my right eye did not ease at all. Every time I open my eyes, the light around me stings me so much that I almost have to close my eyes to resist it, but that stinging pain seems to remind me of those unbearable memories from the past. I curled up in bed, holding the sheet tightly, my teeth crunching. Pain keeps me awake and unable to escape. At this moment, a slight sound of footsteps was heard outside the ward door. I forced my eyes open and saw Pack Doctor walk in, expressionless, as if he had been worn down by work and had no emotions at all. He lowered his head, examined my eyes, and a trace of concern flashed in his gaze: “The recovery period might be longer than expected, but you will get better gradually.” Bear with it. The pain is temporary. I couldn’t help but chuckle softly, my voice hoarse: “The pain is temporary, but how can the pain in the heart heal?” Pack Doctor didn’t answer. He just nodded silently. His expression became more serious and he said in a low voice, “Seraphina, what you need is time and patience.” Relax and stop thinking about those unimportant things. However, all of this still cannot let me go. Because I know very well that my pain doesn’t just stem from the recovery after the surgery. The real pain comes from the person I once deeply loved – Alpha Caden. A few days later, despite the intense pain in my eyes, I went home from the hospital and walked into the living room. As soon as I stepped into the living room, I heard the noise outside the door. Ava suddenly pushed the door open and entered, carrying a box of rotten roses in her hand. She gave a contemptuous smile and threw the flower box in front of me. “Alpha Caden said that. He said this flower suits you best.” ” Her voice was full of disdain, and there was that disgusting smug on her face. The scent of her perfume mingled with the familiar scent on Alpha Caden, instantly breaking my heart. I stared fixedly at the pile of rotten petals in front of me, my eyes filled with question and anger: Is Alpha Caden really that cold-blooded? I once trusted you so much. How could you cheat on me behind my back? I said angrily. Ava disdainfully kicked over the scattered project proposal on my desk: “Luna, what do you think you are?” You don’t even deserve to know the confidential password of the Alpha safe! Alpha Caden said, “Since you haven’t shown up for so many days, you might as well stay a little further away.” Ava sneered, “Your things have already been thrown into Omega’s room. You’ll be living there from today on.” As she spoke, she sneered and looked at me with malice in her eyes. I wanted to refute something, but found my voice choking up in my throat. Every word she said seemed like a knife stabbing at me. That night, the intense pain in my abdomen prevented me from sleeping. I bent down, holding my stomach with both hands. The intense discomfort made it almost impossible for me to breathe. I hurried into the bathroom and picked up the test strip that I dared not face – the pregnancy test strip. When I saw the two bright red bars above, the whole world seemed to collapse. I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, looking at my pale face, and suddenly felt that I had become so strange. My heart was racing and my mind was filled with chaos. Soon, Omega’s servant came in. His eyes casually swept over the test strips on the table, and he immediately reported it to Alpha Caden. Late at night, I lay in bed, holding the pregnancy test report tightly in my hand, and tears couldn’t help but spill out of the corners of my eyes. Suddenly, the cheerful sounds from the next room came to my ears. The familiar breathing sounds became even clearer in the dead of night. I knew it was Ava and Alpha Caden. Hanging out next door to me was Ava’s deliberate request, and Alpha Caden, seeking excitement, half-heartedly agreed. Alpha Caden’s voice kept ringing in my ears. He panted and whispered, “Seraphina is pregnant now. When the baby is born, I’ll find an opportunity to get you into Council.” At this moment, all reason and self-respect were cast aside. I held the report tightly, and tears finally slid down silently. I once thought he was everything to me, but I never expected that he would be so heartless and so indifferent.

I stood in the corridor of the hospital, my hands tightly grasping the confirmation of the surgery appointment displayed on the phone screen, my heart filled with countless contradictions. At that moment, I knew I should make a decision – either to let go or to continue this relationship that was doomed to break up. “Can you really do it?” I asked myself, my voice weak, yet reverberating in the empty room. Everything before my eyes is blurry. The moment I made the appointment for the surgery, deep down in my heart, I had actually made a choice – I no longer wanted to stay in this city, by the side of that man named Alpha Caden. However, when I stood at the hospital entrance, that uncontrollable confusion swallowed me up again. Is turning around and leaving, leaving the child behind, really the best choice? Instinctively, I raised my head to look out of the window. The drizzle was falling, the traffic was surging, and from time to time, figures hurried past on the street. I took a deep breath, gathered my courage and dialed Alpha Caden’s phone number. “Hey, Alpha Caden…” My voice almost vanished on the other end of the phone, and my words were swallowed up in the wind and rain. However, there was silence on the other end. There was still no response on the other end of the phone. Just at this moment, I heard footsteps coming from behind. That kind of gait was all too familiar to me. It was Ava’s gait. I turned around sharply and saw Ava standing in front of me with a sneer. A look of disdain curved at the corner of her mouth: “Want to run?” Do you think you can escape? Behind her, the tall and burly man, Warrior, stared at me coldly, holding a knife in his hand, with an undeniable coldness in his eyes. I struggled backward desperately, and my entire heart felt as if it were being torn apart. Why was Alpha Caden so cruel to me? Does he really not want this child anymore? Stop right there for me! Ava suddenly let out a furious shout. Immediately, she rushed up to me, grabbed my wrist and pulled me into her arms with all her might. She sneered in my ear in a low voice, “You should be glad that Alpha Caden doesn’t think highly of you. At least you’re alive.” And you, this child of unknown identity, have no value at all. “Let me go!” I struggled desperately and pushed her hand away with all my might, trying to break free from her restraint. However, Ava seemed to have been well-prepared. With a precise hand knife strike on my neck, my body immediately lost its strength and I fell to the ground. Stop struggling. Don’t waste any more time. Ava’s voice carried a cold sneer. She crouched down, ready to pour a bottle of unknown liquid into my mouth. The smell of that bottle of medicine was pungent. I could hardly stand it. I wanted to struggle, but I was weak all over and simply couldn’t resist. Just as Ava was about to force the liquid into my mouth, Warrior said, “Be careful she might bite you?” She has no chance anymore. Ava’s lips curled up slightly, and her eyes revealed a vicious look. Just then, the rain poured down like a deluge. I felt a violent impact, and immediately a warm liquid flowed out of my mouth. I know. That’s my blood. The excruciating pain almost made me faint. All the suffering, all the powerlessness, all the despair condensed in this moment. Ava seemed to finally let go of me and looked at me coldly. An indescribable sadness welled up in my heart. Alpha Caden, the man I once deeply loved, is actually so heartless. Could it be that he really doesn’t care about me and the child in my womb at all? My mobile phone finally rang at this moment. “Alpha Caden?” Almost subconsciously, I grabbed my phone and saw that his name was displayed on the screen, but the call wasn’t answered. I dialed his number again, but still couldn’t get through. I finally realized that perhaps Alpha Caden really doesn’t care about me at all anymore. Just then, I saw Alpha Caden’s figure clearly appear on the LED screen not far away. He was announcing that Ava would become a member of the Council. Look at what the person you love is doing now. Ava sneered, her tone brimming with sarcasm, “He doesn’t care about you anymore, not even showing contempt.” My heart seemed to be torn in two. I can’t bear this kind of pain any longer. My hand trembled as I almost unconsciously dialed the Healer, Zane Whitford’s number. He once saved me. It was he who rescued me from the desperate situation in that kidnapping incident three years ago. “Zane Whitford…” I whispered, with a hint of choking in my voice. The call was connected, but soon it was snatched from my hand by a cold hand and thrown directly into the pudd on the ground. “Do you want to ask for help? There is no chance now. ” Warrior sneered. His figure was blurred in my sight. The phone was submerged in water and had no signal at all.

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I traded my entire human life to make Ethan the Alpha of this pack, but the day his father died, he dragged a whimpering she-wolf into packhouse and demanded I share his bed with her. “Sera, this was my father’s Mate” he says, one hand pCynthiated protectively on her trembling shoulder. “Pack tradition. I have to take care of her now.” I look at the way he shields her behind his back, and my smile turns ugly on my face. “No.” His face goes cold in a heartbeat. It’s the first time he’s ever gone against me, and he keeps her anyway. Every night after that, the cabin next to ours fills with the same sounds. Heavy thuds. Low growls. A female’s broken little moans. I clamp my palms over my ears and curl up under the fur bCynthiaket, the cramps in my belly twisting like knives. Through the pain, I force myself to count the marks I’ve carved into the stone wall with beast blood. The next Blood Moon is almost here. The cabin door creaks open. A warm body settles on the edge of the bed. I feel his hand drift toward my hair, and I burrow deeper into the furs before he can touch me. “Don’t.” Ethan freezes. His lips press into a thin line. “Sera, you’re sulking again.” His voice is rough, irritated. “”It’s not my fault you can’t give me an heir. Don’t read so much into it. You’re my Luna. You’re the only female with my name”   I clench the fur bCynthiaket and say nothing.· He drags a hand through his hair, frustrated. “When Cynthia whelps in the spring, I’ll send her away. The pack will be satisfied. We’ll raise the pup together. He’ll only ever call you mother. Stop being difficult.” With that, Ethan stands up and walks out the door. He can’t stand facing my cold face, so he goes back to Cynthia. And this same scene has played out every single night since he brought her home. I wipe the dried tears off my cheeks and sit up. The fire is still warm, but my bones feel like ice. I don’t belong in this world. I’ve been in this world three years. It’s brutal. Backwater. Cold in a way that gets inside you and never leaves. If I hadn’t met Ethan, I would never have missed the Blood Moon. I would have gone home. He was the fiercest warrior in the pack, and he gave me the most honest thing he had. I rip the wolf-fang necklace off my throat. My eyes burn. He broke his oath. He broke me. I still remember the night I chose to stay. He pressed this necklace into my palm with both hands. “Sera, thank you. I don’t care that you don’t have a Breeding Totem. In this lifetime, Ethan will only ever have you. Even if we never get a pup of our own, I’m at peace with it.” Three years. That’s all it took for him to drag his dead father’s Mate into our home. There’s a pack law here. The son inherits the father’s Mate. Even though Cynthia shares no blood with him, she became his property the moment the old Alpha stopped breathing. He feeds her. She breeds for him. Clean transaction. I thought he’d broken from those laws for me. I was wrong. I laugh under my breath and toss the necklace into the fire. The bone curls, blackens, crumbles into ash. A tainted vow. I don’t want it anymore. A female’s soft, coy laughter drifts faintly through the wall, on and off. I run my thumb over the bone ring on my finger, then lift my eyes to the corner of the stone wall, where blood-red symbols only I can read are scrawled across the rock. The next Blood Moon is almost here.

I stare at the drowned vegetable sprouts in my field, my whole body trembling with rage. Beside me, Cynthia flinches, the wooden bucket still dangling from her hand. Her eyes brim with tears. “Sera, I didn’t mean to,” she whimpers. “I just wanted to help. I only gave them a little extra water, I swear, I didn’t know they’d all die…” She starts to sob. The mating marks all over her bare skin are impossible to miss. I jerk my gaze away like I’ve been burned. My chest feels sour and hot at the same time. I open my mouth and nothing comes out. What’s the point? The sprouts are already dead. I unclench my fists and step forward to see what can still be saved. But Cynthia’s face goes white with shock. She sways on her feet, then suddenly collapses forward. Before I can even react, a force slams into me and shoves me sideways. My knee cracks against a rock. Cold sweat floods my skin. When I look up, Ethan is there. Still in his hunting leathers, dust and pine needles in his hair. He just got back. His eyes are red and feral. He scoops Cynthia against his chest, and the look he gives me is pure accusation. “Sera. You can’t even tolerate her this much?” My lips tremble. Then I smile at him, tired and sad. “Did you see me do anything to her? Or do your eyes only show you what you’ve already decided to believe?” He freezes. He looks around at the flooded field. He stays quiet for a long second. “They’re just sprouts, Sera. She was only trSerag to help. Don’t take it this far.” Just sprouts. I laugh through my nose. With one sentence, he just erased three years of my work. Before me, this pack survived on raw kills. Sick guts, weak pups, half the litters dSerag before their first winter. I taught them to farm. I taught them to cook the meat right. That’s why his pack thrived. That’s why they made him Alpha. And now he’s calling it “just sprouts” to soothe the female who killed them. “Ethan… my belly hurts,” Cynthia whispers, burSerag her face in his throat. She’s stopped crSerag just enough to look pitiful, clinging to his arm like a vine. His attention snaps to her like a leash pulled tight. His big hand spreads over her stomach, rubbing in slow, careful circles. So gentle. Like he’s afraid of bruising her. Ethan was never a gentle male. He learned all of that, every soft touch, after we mated. Every time I felt unwell, he’d hover at my side and refuse to leave, no matter how I tried to wave him off. And now he’s giving it, stroke for stroke,to another female. My knee throbs. I lower my lashes. My nails bury themselves in the dirt. “Ethan,” I say. My voice cracks. “I hurt too.” He stops. His lips part once, twice. He almost takes a step toward me. I stare him down, my hand pressed over my wound, fingers shaking. The next second, Cynthia’s arms snap up around his neck. “Blood…” she breathes. Red runs down the inside of her thigh. His face drains. He doesn’t look at me again. He just sweeps her up and runs for the Pack Doctor. I watch them disappear, the corner of my mouth twitching up. Whatever was left in me for him, the last thin thread of it, snaps clean.

“She’s… she’s carrSerag!” The Pack Doctor checks her twice, three times, then whirls on Ethan with shining eyes. “Truly the she-wolf with the strongest breeding capability in the entire pack. Just a few nights and she’s already carrSerag a pup!” “Alpha, you can start preparing the nursery!” I stand off to the side, numb from head to toe. I can’t even feel a single emotion left inside me. I just watch Ethan’s face shift from frozen, to stunned, to a wet, broken kind of joy. So this is what he really wanted. A pup. My hand drifts to my own stomach without me telling it to. For three years, I’ve been quietly poisoning my own womb with musk powder. Because I never wanted a pup. In this world, every she-wolf is born with a Breeding Totem. It marks how strong her breeding capability is. The stronger the capability, the darker the Totem. The weaker it is, the fainter the mark. And me, a modern human, of course I don’t have one. So naturally, they treated me like a freak. A cripple. Even after I ended up with Ethan, I never broke the lie. Birthing in this world is already a coin flip with death, and this place is so backward on top of it. I wasn’t going to die for a pup. But back then I was naive enough to think… if it was Ethan… I force down the wave of nausea and press hard on my cramping belly. The truth is, I’m pregnant too.  This pup picked the worst possible moment to come. “Because of the shock, and because Cynthia’s body is fragile, besides plenty of rest, by tradition…” The Pack Doctor hesitates, then lets her eyes drift over to me. I know what she means. Every pup is a treasure to the pack. When one female in the household is carrSerag, the other females are expected to wait on her alongside the male. But the Pack Doctor can’t bring herself to say it out loud. Because I’m not like the other females in this pack. I’ve given everything to this pack. I brought them prosperity. That’s why every member here respects me. I shouldn’t have to lower myself to do something like this. For a moment, no one speaks. Then Ethan speaks. “It’s fine. Sera can do it.” I turn my head so slowly I hear my own neck crack. “This is Sera’s pup too. There’s no reason she’d refuse.” He says it like it’s nothing. Like he’s commenting on the weather. He wants me. To take care of Cynthia. To nurse the female he’s been mounting next door every night. My hands ball up so tight my nails cut my palms. The Pack Doctor flinches and looks away. No one defies the Alpha. Not out loud. I look at the floor. My mouth tastes like blood. “No.” Ethan’s head snaps toward me. His brows pull together, disbelieving. “What did you just—Sera, this is your pup too, how can you—” “It is NOT my pup!” Before Ethan can finish, my voice rises, even cracking at the edge. My voice shakes. “Ethan… is a pup really that important?” “When you begged me to be with you, do you remember what you said…?” His jaw locks. His eyes drop. He doesn’t answer. I take a step back. Then another. The disappointment in my chest is so heavy I can barely stand up under it. I forgot. I let myself forget. Ethan was born in this world. He was raised on the gospel of the bloodline. Of course he was never going to change for me. Of course. I was the fool. Choosing to stay here for him. Choosing this frozen, ugly place over my own world. Cynthia’s lashes flutter. She tugs weakly on his sleeve, biting her lip, doing the wounded-doe routine. “Ethan… it’s alright. Sera has done so much for the pack. And I’m only your father’s leftover Mate. I—I don’t deserve this. I’ll have the pup quickly and move out, I promise—” Cynthia’s words hit Ethan like cold water tossed into a pot of oil. His face goes cold in an instant. It looks like he’s made up his mind. When he raises his eyes again, his face is a stranger’s. “If you don’t want to, then move out.”He says to me.

The whole room goes dead silent. Cynthia’s eyes go wide. For half a second, before she catches herself, I see triumph flash across her face. I smile, bitter and small. My belly cramps. “Then where do you want me to move to?” The Alpha’s cabin is the safest, warmest building in the pack. There isn’t a single spare cabin in the village. He knows that. Is he kicking me out? Ethan doesn’t speak. His breathing has gone fast and shallow. I know he’s hesitating. But what’s there to hesitate over now? You already said it, Ethan. Out loud. In front of the Pack Doctor. There’s no taking it back. Just admit it. The pup matters more than I do. “Where do you want me to go?” I ask again, lighter this time. Almost playful. I’m not even looking at him. I’m staring at the chipped moon outside the window. Ethan is openly hesitating now. “Yes, Alpha,” the Pack Doctor jumps in nervously, “there are no spare cabins. And Sera still tends the fields, where could she possibly—” “I remember… there are a few abandoned cabins up on the Ridge, aren’t there?” Ethan says. The moment those words leave his mouth, the few of us in the cabin react all at once — panic, shock, glee — every eye snapping to Ethan. The Ridge. Where only the ones with no one and nothing left ever go. So Ethan really is throwing me away. I almost laugh out loud. It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving this world soon anyway. “It’s only temporary,” Ethan says stiffly, refusing to look at me. “When Cynthia delivers the pup, I’ll bring you home. But if you’d rather stay—” “I’ll go.” Ethan clearly didn’t expect me to agree so quickly. He freezes for a second, then rushes to speak. “I—I meant, if you’d be willing to stay and help with Cynthia, you don’t have to—” “I’m not staSerag to look after her.” I say it again, level and final. Then I give him a small, broken smile. “Help me move my things tonight.” I turn to leave. He blocks my path with his body. His eyes are shaking. His voice comes out clenched between his teeth. “Sera… why won’t you step back for me. Just once.” I’m so tired. I pCynthiat my palm on his chest and push, gently. “Because I’ve already stepped back too many times, Ethan. This is where I stop.” He doesn’t grab me again. He just stands there, dark-faced, watching me walk away. And then I hear him let out a cold, brittle laugh behind me. “The path down the mountain is rough, Sera. Don’t bother coming back.I’ll bring your rations up to you. Every day. Until Cynthia whelps, and I bring you home.”

Three days since I came up to the Ridge. Ethan only made it up here once. The first day, he brought the rations. He tried to get close to me, and I shut him down cold. He left with a black look on his face and never came back. The grass basket where the food goes has been empty ever since. Maybe he forgot. Maybe Cynthia found some excuse to keep him busy and he never made it out the door. The firewood in the corner is damp. I don’t even have the strength to coax a flame out of it anymore. Cold air that cuts right through the animal hide I’ve wrapped myself in. I curl up tighter, both hands pressed hard against the low, dragging ache in my belly. I lift my eyes to the marks I scratched into the wall the day I arrived. Tonight is the Blood Moon. Another cramp hits, bad enough to wring cold sweat out of me. Then, out of nowhere, I start laughing. I pull myself into a smaller knot and just laugh until there’s no sound left. Because I’ve been secretly taking musk powder this whole time, this pregnancy was already hanging by a thread. And this place runs so much colder than the valley below. This pup was never going to make it. The tears come without warning. Hot and fast. I cry for my own stupidity. I cry because I gave up my whole life, my whole world, for a male who didn’t deserve a single year of it. Then a warm rush moves down the inside of my thigh. I reach down with a trembling hand and turn my palm over. Bright red. I lie back and stare up at the black ceiling. I feel it happening. The small life inside me slipping away, quiet and unhurried, like it was never really mine to keep. In the dark, my mouth curves into something that isn’t quite a smile. It’s alright. Go, little one. Ethan didn’t deserve to be your father anyway. And I’m going home. The bone ring slides off my finger and Cynthiads on the empty hide beside me.

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Elena Moreno never imagined that on her birthday, her son would hand her a peanut butter cup lethal enough to send her into anaphylactic shock. As consciousness faded, she heard Asher Whitmore’s furious reprimand. “Knox Whitmore, did you not know your mother is deathly allergic to peanuts?” Knox’s young voice cut through with terrible clarity. “I know. But I want Olivia to be my mom.” “Dad, you want that too, don’t you?” “Even if I…” A violent wave of suffocation crashed over her. She couldn’t make out the rest of Asher’s answer. In the final second before losing consciousness, only one thought remained. If she woke up, she was done being Asher Whitmore’s wife. Done being Knox’s mother. *** Five hours of emergency treatment pulled her back from the edge. When Elena regained consciousness, every breath burned. Her face was swollen beyond recognition. She forced her eyes open, searching instinctively for two figures. The room was empty. Her phone sat on the bedside table. She strained to reach it, but it was too far. Just as she tried to push herself up, the nurse changing her IV pushed the door open and rushed to stop her. “You just got out of the ICU. Don’t move. I’ll get it for you.” The nurse handed her the phone and replaced the IV bag. “Did you not know you have a severe peanut allergy? You have to remember this. Absolutely no peanuts. You’re lucky they got you here in time. Otherwise, no one could have saved you.” Elena didn’t know how to answer. Was she supposed to say her son deliberately chose a peanut butter cup for her, knowing full well it could kill her? Her gaze fell on her body, tangled in wires and tubes. She forced the words out. “Where are they?” She couldn’t bring herself to call Asher and Knox her husband and son. Not anymore. The nurse thought for a moment. “You mean your husband and son? They brought you to the ER, signed the paperwork, and rushed off. Said something came up. You should call them.” Then she muttered under her breath, “My god. Signed and left? If it were my husband, he’d have worn a hole in the waiting room floor.” The words hit Elena like a blade to the chest. Only one person could make that father and son leave so fast. She unlocked her phone. Her chat with Asher was still a wall of green bubbles. She opened Instagram. Olivia’s story sat at the top. *Some people come running faster than my private driver. 💋* The photo showed only Asher’s forearm, sleeves rolled up, a screwdriver in hand. Knox’s small fingers reached into the frame, passing over a vintage dresser part from RH. No faces. No names. The two familiar figures burned into Elena’s vision. Her eyes stung. The suffocating feeling swept over her again. She refreshed the photo. Zoomed in on Knox’s hand blocking the lens. Backed out. Locked the screen. Unlocked it. Looked again. The hospital blanket was wrapped tight around her, but she was still cold. Cold enough that her fingertips shook. They had abandoned her—a woman who had just stared death in the face—to assemble Olivia’s goddamn RH dresser. And her anaphylactic shock? Knox had caused it with his own hands. No guilt. No worry. Nothing. Elena let out a hollow laugh. Of course. Knox probably wished she had never woken up. And Asher—whether he knew the truth or not—deep down, he probably wanted Olivia as his wife just as badly. Why would two people who didn’t want her bother to stay at her bedside? She set the phone down and stared at the harsh fluorescent lights. The memories came flooding back. She and Asher had grown up in the same Hamptons neighborhood. He was the golden boy—brilliant, skipped two grades, walked into Yale like it was nothing. Everyone knew he’d come back to Greenwich and take over the Whitmore family asset management empire. Elena was quiet. At backyard barbecues and pool parties, she was the girl sitting on the sidelines. As she got older, she faded even more into the background. And yet, she fell for him. She figured her feelings would die the day he married someone else. She never expected him to show up at her door right after graduating from Yale, asking if she would marry him. The shock nearly knocked her over. She couldn’t hold back the feelings that had been growing for years. She said yes without hesitation. Just like that, she became Elena Whitmore. Until that night. He’d been drinking. And he told her the truth. At Yale, there was a girl he loved. He’d proposed under the Eiffel Tower, beneath the Northern Lights in Iceland. But the one that scarred him most was graduation day—the hundredth time he got down on one knee, with all his fraternity brothers watching. And the hundredth time she said no. She wasn’t ready to settle down. In a rage, he drove straight back to Greenwich and knocked on the door three blocks from his own. She didn’t care at first. She believed love could grow over time. A year into the marriage, she gave birth to Knox. She and Asher grew closer. To the outside world, they were the picture of a happy family. Then, a month ago, Olivia Summers came back. It was like he’d forgotten the hundred rejections at Yale. He couldn’t stay away from her. The concern. The tenderness. The nights that stretched later and later. Knox started tagging along. She had believed six years of marriage and five years of motherhood meant something. That somewhere in their hearts, she mattered. Today, that fantasy finally shattered. Six years. She had never managed to warm Asher’s heart. And the child she had carried inside her own body—he had no more room for her than his father did. Bang! The door slammed open. Elena looked up. A tall figure and a small one stood at the entrance. Asher nudged Knox forward, his expression stern. “Go. Apologize to your mother.” Knox twisted his fingers together. He shuffled toward her bed, step by reluctant step. His voice was barely a whisper. “Mom, I’m sorry.” Elena turned her head away. She didn’t miss the unwillingness in his eyes. Asher’s voice was heavy. “Knox didn’t know. He wasn’t aware of your peanut allergy. I’ve already disciplined him. He won’t give you anything with peanuts again.” “A merger deal at the office hit a snag. I saw you were still unconscious, so I went back to handle it.” It was the height of summer. The air outside was thick with heat. Elena had never felt colder. She had been awake for hours. Asher hadn’t sent a single message. And the only two sentences he’d spoken since walking in were both lies. He frowned at her silence. “It’s your birthday. Don’t stay angry at a child.” “My son and I prepared a gift. See if you like it. You can wear it once you’re discharged.” He pulled out a classic Tiffany blue box. Inside lay a diamond necklace—something they’d clearly grabbed on the way over from Greenwich Avenue. Elena glanced at it and looked away. “I have a gift for you both too.” Asher looked puzzled. “It’s your birthday. Why are you giving us gifts?” Knox stared at her with the same confusion. A faint, liberated smile crossed her lips. “It’s only fair to return the favor, isn’t it? Don’t worry. You’ll see it in a few days. I’m sure you’ll love it.” A signed divorce agreement. Exactly what you both wanted.

Asher’s expression remained indifferent. “Just focus on resting. Don’t trouble yourself with gifts for us.” He glanced at his phone. Beside him, Knox pouted, clearly uninterested. Elena took in their reactions. A bitter smile tugged at her mouth. Not interested now? She had a feeling the divorce papers would excite them more than anything. She suddenly felt curious. What exactly was she to them? A placeholder for their real feelings? A housekeeper? Strangers sharing the same roof? The words slipped out before she could stop them. The last syllable hung in the air. A sickly sweet female voice floated from Asher’s phone. “Ash, how fast you answer decides how long you get to see me today!” Elena froze. As the CEO managing billions in assets, Asher’s ringtone had always been the default. It took her a second to understand. Her nails dug into her palms. He must have recorded Olivia’s voice back when they were together. Set it as her custom ringtone. All those years ago. So the cold, detached Asher Whitmore had once been capable of that kind of foolishness. And after six years, he still hadn’t deleted it. Had he spent every one of those years waiting for it to ring? Asher didn’t hesitate. He answered immediately. A faint sobbing sound came through the line. He was on his feet in an instant, grabbing his suit jacket from the chair. “I’m on my way.” His voice was uncharacteristically gentle. He was already at the door when he remembered. He turned back. “A friend ran into some trouble. I need to handle it. Get some rest.” His desperation to reach Olivia must have been blinding. He didn’t even realize how pathetic the lie sounded. What kind of friend gets a ringtone like that? Knox had already latched onto his father the moment he stood up. “I’m coming too!” He didn’t even glance at Elena. That was when it hit her. They hadn’t heard a word she said. Even coming from Olivia’s apartment to the hospital, Olivia was all they cared about. The phone-checking. The waiting. All for her call. Elena lowered her eyes. “Mm.” They hadn’t answered her question. But she already had her answer. The moment they left, she dialed her divorce attorney. “Draft the papers as soon as possible and send them to me.” The lawyer’s tone was all business. “How would you like to handle custody and visitation for Knox?” “Nothing.” Elena’s voice was quiet. “I don’t want anything related to the Whitmore family. Not a single thing.” The only thing she wanted now was a divorce.

Elena spent an entire week in the hospital before the allergic reaction fully cleared. Every day of that week, she watched Olivia’s Instagram updates. The “trouble” Asher mentioned? Olivia’s new rental had lost power and water. The two of them helped her find a new luxury apartment. They toured every high-end furniture store in Greenwich. Together, piece by piece, they turned an empty room into a warm, modern minimalist home. The day she was discharged, Asher and Knox finally appeared after being absent all week. She had already finished the paperwork herself. Asher’s cold face showed a rare flicker of guilt. “Sorry I haven’t been around. My friend just moved back to the East Coast. She doesn’t know anyone here. I’m the only person she can call.” Apologies from Asher were rare. Before, Elena would have been quick to say it didn’t matter. This time, she just opened the door of the black Escalade. “I know. Let’s go home.” Asher looked at her. Was she angry? He dismissed the thought. Six years of marriage, and Elena had always been gentle and understanding. She never threw tantrums. He was probably overthinking. Elena kept her eyes shut the entire ride. But she could feel a hot stare on her. She opened her eyes. Knox was looking right at her. He spoke carefully. “Mom, is your allergy all better now?” “Yes.” The car pulled up to the colonial mansion. Elena got out. Two steps away, she heard a low mutter behind her. “So does that mean Livvy still can’t be my mom…” Elena stopped walking. She didn’t cry. She just fully accepted the failure of five years of parenting in that single moment. She felt like an idiot who’d invested everything for five years and gotten nothing back. This was the child she’d carried for ten months and raised for five years. He nearly killed her. And instead of fear or guilt, he was disappointed he hadn’t succeeded in clearing the obstacle for his Livvy. What a joke. She swallowed the ache in her chest and headed straight to the master bedroom. Knox, your wish is about to come true. That night, Elena lay in the California king bed. The spot beside her was ice-cold. Asher often worked late in his home office. They barely spoke before sleep. She was used to it. Just as she was drifting off, a pair of hands pulled her into a warm embrace. Hot breath fanned across her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. She forced her eyes open. And spotted a single blonde, curled strand of hair on the collar of Asher’s custom shirt. She had worn dark brown, straight hair her entire life. A sudden wave of nausea surged up her throat. She bolted upright and ran to the bathroom. She dry-heaved over the sink. Nothing came out. She gripped the counter, staring at her pale face in the mirror. Asher was wide awake now. He frowned. “What’s wrong with you?” Elena almost laughed. He had another woman in his heart. Who was this concerned act for? “Nothing. Go back to sleep.” Asher didn’t understand. “What are you talking about?” She let out a soft laugh. She couldn’t face his hypocrisy. She turned her back to him and lay down. He lost all interest. The door clicked shut behind him. Elena kept her eyes closed. The next morning, her lawyer sent the divorce agreement. *Ms. Moreno, the documents have been drafted per your instructions.* *Thank you.* Just as she sent the reply, Knox came downstairs. “Mom, my birthday party has to be really big this year. I’m inviting someone super important.” Knox’s sixth birthday. Almost here. She lowered her eyes. A long pause. “Okay.” This would be the last birthday she spent with him. Knox got his answer and left for private school. Once he was gone, Elena opened the airline app and bought a one-way ticket. The departure time: three days from now. The night of Knox’s birthday.

For three days, Elena threw herself into planning Knox’s party. She also bought gifts for every birthday from age six to eighteen. He was still her flesh and blood. Even if they never saw each other again, she had a duty to provide for him until he was grown. Knox’s birthday arrived. The guests were many. Elena stood beside Asher, holding Knox’s hand, surrounded by the crowd. Every year, Knox had been bursting with excitement on his birthday. Today, he was subdued. He kicked at the grass. His head kept turning toward the estate entrance. Asher kept checking his Patek Philippe. Elena thought something about the party wasn’t right. Then a voice called from the gate. “Knox! Happy birthday!” Knox’s head snapped up. His eyes lit up. He shoved past Elena and ran. “Livvy!” Elena stumbled backward. She nearly fell. It took several steps to catch her balance. Knox didn’t notice. He threw himself into Olivia’s arms like a golden retriever puppy, his earlier gloom completely gone. “You finally came. I’ve been waiting forever.” Olivia pinched his cheek. “Traffic was awful. I’m sorry for making the birthday boy wait.” Asher walked toward Olivia, a rare smile softening his cold features. Elena stood in the crowd, her ankle throbbing. She watched her husband and son abandon her to circle Olivia. Her heart didn’t ache. Only a cold, ruthless hatred spread from her chest to her limbs. She should have known. Only Olivia could make them act like this. She was the “important person” Knox meant. The lively chatter around her died. Guests exchanged glances. Then the whispers started. “Who is that?” “You don’t know? The legendary ‘Paris ex.’ Looks like Asher’s planning a repeat of history.” “Elena’s a saint. If that were me, that matching hoodie would already be in shreds on his windshield.” “Shh. She’s looking over. It’s the kid’s birthday. Don’t make this awkward for her.” Elena pulled her gaze back. Her heart felt bitter. But there was no pain. After tonight, she would no longer be Mrs. Whitmore. Knox was already dragging Olivia around, showing off the party. “Livvy, these are my favorite Marvel heroes.” “These are all my pictures since I was born.” “This is my finger painting.” *** Asher walked beside them, his eyes carrying a faint, amused warmth. They circled the entire lawn before approaching Elena. “Livvy, this is…” Knox paused. “This is my mom.” Olivia’s expression stayed smooth. She ruffled Knox’s hair. “Elena, Knox is absolutely adorable. I’m so envious.” Elena smiled. “You’ll have one of your own someday.” After tonight, she would. Knox. Asher. Both of them. Knox had no interest in lingering near her. He pulled Olivia away. Asher moved to follow, but his gaze landed on Elena standing alone. She looked out of place in the festive atmosphere. His voice softened. “Elena, don’t overthink things. You’ve been working on this party all week. You look terrible. Go upstairs and rest. Olivia and I have Knox covered.” Elena lowered her eyes, hiding the mockery. He wanted to be with Olivia so openly that he’d send his wife—the child’s own mother—away from her son’s birthday party. She said nothing. She went upstairs. She was done wasting energy on things that didn’t matter. The butler called her down for the candle ceremony. Knox stood before the giant fondant cake in the center of the lawn, ready to make his wish. Olivia and Asher flanked him. Elena stopped at the sight. The picture of a perfect family. Anyone else joining would look like an intruder. Olivia spotted her. She smiled apologetically. “Elena, come stand over here.” She started to move away from Knox’s side. Knox’s small hands gripped Olivia’s dress. He wouldn’t let her go. “Mom, I want Livvy to stand next to me.” Asher glanced at Elena. “It’s Knox’s birthday. Let’s do what he wants. Don’t take it personally.” Elena stood still. She nodded calmly. She didn’t even want these two people anymore. Why would she care about some meaningless spot? Knox’s happiness was obvious. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. “I wish to grow up happy.” He paused. Then, in French, he added, “I also wish for Livvy to be my mom.”

The childish voice rang out clearly. Everyone heard it. Several guests spoke French. The expressions in the crowd shifted. Asher froze for a beat. Then his face smoothed over. “He’s been watching the French dub of The Little Prince. He picks up lines and misuses them.” Knox’s mouth turned down. He looked ready to argue. “But—” Elena stepped forward and cut him off. “This is your gift. It can make your wish come true.” She handed him the kraft paper envelope. Inside was the signed divorce agreement. She imagined this was the gift Knox wanted most. She paused. “There’s a key inside…” She had meant to tell him the gifts for ages six to eighteen were all in a bank safe deposit box. Every year, he just needed to open one in order. But Knox nodded dismissively before she could finish. “Thanks, Mom. Got it.” He didn’t believe her. A gift that could grant wishes? Just the kind of nonsense adults told kids. He tossed the envelope onto the gift pile. His eyes were full of expectation as he looked at Olivia. “Livvy, what did you get me?” Olivia pinched his cheek and pulled a gift from her Chanel bag. Three custom hoodies. In the center was a blown-up photo of the three of them at Six Flags Magic Mountain. “Remember that trip to Six Flags? I made us matching hoodies. Do you like them, Knox?” “Wow!” Knox gasped. He grabbed the hoodies and examined them. It looked like he wanted to put one on right that second. “I love them! I’m wearing this tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that!” The Whitmore family photographer arrived for the birthday portrait. Knox’s eyes brightened. He tugged at Asher’s sleeve. “Dad, let’s all put these on for the picture. You, me, and Livvy.” Asher, who only wore custom suits in public, didn’t refuse. The three of them changed. They looked exactly like a family. When it was time for the photo, Asher frowned at Elena. “Why aren’t you coming?” Elena looked at the three of them squeezed together in their matching hoodies. No room for anyone else. She forced a small smile. “I’m a little tired. You go ahead.” Asher thought nothing of it. He signaled the photographer. Olivia and Asher stood on either side of Knox. The photographer directed them to move closer. Inch by inch, their shoulders touched. They both flinched. Looked at each other. Asher’s normally cold eyes softened. A blush rose on Olivia’s cheeks. Knox stood in front of them, holding their hands, beaming. The guests whispered. “So the hundred-proposal legend is true. Someone’s getting a second act.” “I’d love to see how long the ‘Paris first love’ sticks around this time before she runs again.” “Poor Elena. Honestly, she should’ve planned her exit years ago. Those two never really ended things.” Elena heard it all. She suddenly remembered Asher’s proposal six years ago. No flowers. No ring. Not even a knee on the ground. Just seven short words at her apartment door. “Do you want to marry me?” Seven words. She had leaped into this marriage like a moth into a flame. Even after learning about Olivia, she held on, believing being his legal wife meant something. Believing he would eventually love her. It took six years to understand. A heart already claimed by someone else could never be warmed. No matter how hard she tried, the moment that person reappeared, she lost. Completely. She watched Asher’s gaze keep drifting to Olivia. A soft laugh escaped her. Soon. This marriage that never should have happened would be over.

Elena didn’t want to watch their happy scene any longer. She walked alone to the rose arbor in the back garden. Buzz. Her phone vibrated. She swiped up. A text message. *Dear Passenger, your flight departs in 8 hours. Please proceed to JFK International Airport for boarding.* The first genuine smile of the day spread across her face. She pocketed the phone and headed upstairs to pack. She’d only taken a few steps when she ran into Olivia. She stood blocking Elena’s path, smiling. “Elena, hiding out here? You’re the hostess. No slacking off.” Elena knew Olivia wasn’t as innocent as she pretended. The day she got back, Olivia had found a way to add her on Instagram. Then came the constant stories showing off her time with Asher and Knox. “Say what you came to say.” Olivia studied her for a long moment. Then she laughed. The mask fell away. “Fine. Direct it is.” “I just came back for what’s mine. What did you think you were these past six years? A convenient warm body and a babysitter. He proposed to me a hundred times. You got seven words. You really don’t see the difference?” Elena had already decided to leave this marriage. That didn’t mean she’d tolerate a third party’s taunts. Her voice went cold. “My marriage to Asher is none of your business.” Olivia examined her French manicure. “So what? I rejected him a hundred times and he still can’t forget me. You’ve seen it yourself. Asher loves me. Even your son wants me as his mother.” “I just said, ‘Get your mommy to eat peanut butter and I can be your mommy.’ And he actually did it.” She looked Elena up and down, contempt plain on her face. “Shame you’re so hard to kill. Would’ve been nice if you’d disappeared sooner.” Elena stared at Olivia in disbelief. Her nails bit into her palms. Rage burned in her chest. Olivia put Knox up to it. The peanut butter cup was her doing. “Olivia, how could you—” “You took my place!” Olivia’s cold voice cut her off. “Without you, I’d be Mrs. Whitmore right now.” She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Asher and Knox were heading toward the garden. Olivia’s venomous face instantly transformed into wounded innocence. “Elena, I know you’ve never liked me. But Asher and I are just old friends. Was it so wrong to come to Knox’s birthday?” Her eyes reddened. Her voice wobbled. Elena frowned. What was this sudden change? In the next instant, Olivia tore a rip in the hoodie. Before Elena could react, Olivia grabbed her wrist and yanked. “Ah—don’t!” Splash. Elena was dragged into the pool. She had nearly drowned in a backyard pool as a child. Water terrified her. It closed over her head, and she thrashed on instinct, fighting to stay above the surface. Splash! Asher had sprinted over and dove in without hesitation. Elena reached for him. “Help—” She watched him swim straight past her. Toward Olivia on the other side. He didn’t even look at her. From the pool deck, a panicked voice shouted, “Dad! Livvy’s over there! Get her out!” In that moment, Elena heard it. Her heart, already full of cracks, shattered into dust. In a life-or-death moment, the two of them still only cared about Olivia. Her strength was gone. She closed her eyes. The darkness swallowed her.

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My best friend and I gave birth on the same day. As a joke, I suggested we arrange a match between our babies someday. My husband, Ethan Hargrove, went dark in an instant. He looked at me with absolute seriousness. “They’re siblings,” he said. “They can’t marry.” I froze. I was sure I’d misheard him. He smiled — light, unbothered, like he was commenting on the weather. “On our wedding night, after we were done, I slipped a sleeping pill into your drink. She used her bra to cover your face. We went at it until dawn, right there beside you.” “That’s the night you both got pregnant.” The world detonated inside my skull. I turned my head, stiff as a board, toward the bed beside mine — where my best friend, Vivienne Ashton, lay sleeping. Twenty years old. I took fifteen stab wounds saving her life. She told me she would owe me forever. Ethan shifted, blocking my line of sight without any urgency, his tone perfectly casual. “Don’t worry. Vivienne won’t fight you for anything. We’ll all live together. You’ll still be Mrs. Hargrove.” Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. My phone buzzed against the mattress. A message from an unknown number. *You may abandon the redemption of the target. Do you wish to exit here immediately?* My gaze drifted to Vivienne’s wrist. She was wearing a strand of prayer beads. The same prayer beads I had spent three days on my knees at a Church to obtain when Ethan nearly died in a car accident — praying until my legs gave out, begging for his life. He had never taken them off. Until today. When Vivienne and I had both been wheeled into our delivery rooms at the same time, he hadn’t hesitated for even a second before pressing them into her hand. Ethan calmly reached over and tucked Vivienne’s arm back under her blanket. Then he turned to me and used the pad of his thumb to wipe the tears from my cheek. “You’re a mother now,” he said gently. “Still crying like this?” I slapped his hand away. “Why her?” My voice came out cracked, raw. “She had a boyfriend! You threw yourself at her — do you have any idea how pathetic that is?” Ethan glanced at his hand where I’d struck it, then looked back at me with something like genuine surprise. “You still think the boyfriend she’s been hiding this whole time was someone else?” He seemed to find something funny in that. A short laugh escaped him. “There were times you called her while we were in the middle of it. She’d be trembling, trying so hard not to make a sound.” His expression turned wistful. “Honestly, I’ll miss that.” I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted copper. My throat had closed up completely. I couldn’t make a sound. After a long silence, I finally managed to speak. “Why lie to me? If you’d just told me the truth, I would have stepped aside. I would have let you go.” I would have walked away early, with at least some part of myself still intact. Not like this. Not shattered beyond recognition. Ethan let out a quiet sigh. Something almost like pity moved through his eyes. “What do you expect? We felt guilty.” “The night you were attacked trying to save Vivienne — the night they hurt you until you lost the baby — I was parked around the corner with her.” A pause. “We got carried away. We forgot to call for help.” The last thread holding me together snapped. I remembered that night. Vivienne and I walking back from the movies. The parking garage. The men who came out of the shadows. I threw myself between her and them. I held on, and held on, because I knew she would go for help. I knew she would come back for me. I believed that, all the way through. When I woke up in the hospital, Ethan was holding me, shaking. He swore revenge, and he had delivered. I thought it meant he loved me. Looking at him now — so calm, so unbothered — I understood for the first time that love can be performed. That I had been watching a performance for years. If a kind stranger hadn’t found me that night, I would have died. I grabbed the ceramic soup bowl off the nightstand and hurled it at him. It hit the floor and exploded. Broth spread across the tiles in a dark stain. He had made that soup himself, the night before. It had peanuts in it — Vivienne’s favorite. He had forgotten, or not bothered to remember, that I was allergic to peanuts. It had all been there, all along. I just never let myself see it. Ethan stood perfectly still, broth dripping from his hair, completely composed. He wasn’t angry. He exhaled slowly. “Hate me all you want. I’m only asking one thing — don’t blame Vivienne. She cares about you deeply. She just gave birth, and she’s fragile right now. The last thing she needs is postnatal depression. Please try to understand.” I pressed my fingernails into my palms until the shaking stopped. The incision from my delivery screamed with every breath. It was a constant, visceral reminder that he knew I needed to rest, needed calm, needed care. He simply didn’t care enough to provide it. My phone buzzed again. *The countdown has begun. 24 hours remaining. If no choice is made, you will lose the only chance to leave here.* —

My tears came back without warning. I twisted toward Vivienne’s bed and screamed until my voice tore. “Vivienne Ashton! How long are you going to keep pretending to sleep? Was it that good? Was sleeping with my husband really worth all of this?” Vivienne opened her eyes. Her face was drained of color. She couldn’t look at me. She grabbed the pillow beside her and threw it at Ethan. “How could you tell her? How could you hurt her like this?” “I told you — I didn’t want a title. I was going to leave after the baby came!” Ethan caught her in his arms before she could move again, holding her too tightly, voice breaking apart at the edges. “I couldn’t let you leave. That’s why I told her. Don’t go, Vivienne. Please. Don’t leave me.” “This is all my fault. Don’t move, you’ll tear your stitches—” He’d said those exact words to me once. I thought of what I knew about him. His mother had died when he was small. His father worked constantly. He’d been left alone with a housekeeper who, it turned out, was deeply disturbed — someone who hurt him in secret, over and over, for years. I was ten years old when I kicked down his front door and found him half-dead on the kitchen floor. I dragged him out of that house and he never had to go back. Later, when the housekeeper retaliated, she hired people to take me. Ethan had refused to let go of my hand while they beat him bloody. He held on until the adults came. He stayed at my bedside in the hospital, unable to stop clinging to me even after we arrived. *Don’t leave me, Elara,* he kept saying, over and over. The way he’d looked at me then — like I was the only real thing in his world. He was looking at Vivienne the same way now. I had once asked myself: if we ever fell apart, what would I do? I’d thought about it seriously. My conclusion had been that I’d drag Vivienne to a bar, drink for three days straight, cry until I had nothing left, and then go back to loving him. Because that’s how much I loved him. But it was Vivienne. Who was I supposed to call now? Vivienne wrenched free of Ethan’s arms and collapsed to her knees at the edge of my bed, tears pouring down her face. “Elara, don’t cry. I’ll leave tomorrow. You two can go back to how you were.” I pressed my lips together. The ache in my chest was unbearable. Vivienne had once been a girl from a wealthy family. At five years old, she was the only one who survived a car accident that took everyone else. Her relatives divided up the estate and dumped her in an orphanage, where she was bullied for years. When we met, I begged my parents to take her in. They loved her like a second daughter. She had stood in front of her first birthday cake in our home and cried, and I’d laughed and told her: everything I have, I’ll split with you. Half the good food. Half the good days. Half my parents’ love. She had taken the half of me I never offered. “Get out,” I said through my teeth. “I don’t want to look at you. You’re a liar and a homewrecker and I want you gone.” The babies startled at the noise and began to wail. I lifted my daughter and held her close, trying to soothe her through my own tears. Vivienne buried her face in her hands, broken sounds coming out between her fingers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—” Ethan’s expression hardened. He picked up Vivienne’s son, and when he turned to face me, his voice was controlled but cold. “You have no idea how much Vivienne tried to protect you. She never wanted you hurt.” He paused. “Vivienne was my fiancée first. She was the one I was always going to marry. That makes you the other woman — not her.” I stared at him. He had told me his fiancée died in a car accident. He had said it to my face, with tears in his eyes. He and Vivienne had met in front of me dozens of times and pretended to barely tolerate each other. I had actually mediated their arguments. I had congratulated myself on finally getting two people I loved to get along. I had been the fool the entire time. I laughed. The kind of laugh that comes out with tears attached. I reached over and tore the prayer beads from Vivienne’s wrist. The string snapped. Beads scattered across the floor like broken teeth. “These were mine,” I said. “You don’t deserve them. Neither of you do.” I held my daughter against my chest, stood up on legs that barely held me, and walked out. Every step felt like walking on glass. The pain from my incision was extraordinary. I didn’t slow down once. Behind me, Vivienne was sobbing. Ethan was saying something cold and furious. My phone buzzed. *18 hours remaining.* —

I wandered the hospital corridor with my baby, hollow and shivering. I should hate Ethan for his cowardice. I should hate Vivienne for her betrayal. But beneath all of it, the thing I hated most was simpler: they had taken two people from me at once. I only had room in my heart for a finite amount of love, and they had used all of it. I sat down on a bench and opened my phone. I went to my photos. A thousand images. More. Ethan and I on a mountain trail at four in the morning, waiting for the sunrise. Kissing in a field of wildflowers somewhere I can’t quite remember now. The three of us on a beach trip — Ethan, me, and Vivienne — laughing in the ocean. There had never been two of us. It had always been three. I just hadn’t known which configuration was real. I deleted every single photo. All fourteen thousand. When I was done, I looked at the screen of my phone. A new message had arrived from the unknown number. *You ask what Ethan Hargrove did wrong. The answer is simple: he stopped loving you. That’s all. No villain, no monster. Just a man who looked away.* I pulled my daughter tighter and laughed — a broken, private sound. *I know.* *I’m sorry, baby girl,* I thought, pressing my lips to the top of her head. *I have to leave you in here. Forgive me.* Let me stay a few more hours. Just a few. Ethan’s shoes appeared in my field of vision. I looked up. He stood there watching me, his expression full of something that looked like remorse. Before I could react, he pulled me into his arms. The familiar warmth of it undid something in me. My tears came back without permission. Part of me — the stupid, stubborn part — whispered: *maybe he still loves you, just a little.* “I’m sorry, Elara. I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t thinking.” “You have to understand — I panicked. I was afraid Vivienne would actually take the baby and disappear. I needed you to hear the truth, even if it hurt.” “Come back inside. She hasn’t stopped crying since you left—” *Vivienne, Vivienne.* In the end, that was all there was in his eyes. She was the entire world to him, and I was the atmosphere he’d forgotten he needed to breathe. The last fragment of hope I’d been holding went out. I cut him off quietly. “Promise me something. Take care of the baby. Whatever else happens — take care of her.” Ethan blinked. He relaxed, just slightly — misreading the moment entirely. He cupped my face in his hands, his voice lifting. “Of course. I’ll take care of you both. You just had a baby — you need to rest, you need—” His phone rang. He answered it. His face went white in an instant. “I’m coming. Don’t move.” He hung up. The warmth evaporated. He looked at me with something close to accusation. “Vivienne’s baby has a congenital heart defect. They can’t find a compatible donor. She’s already emotionally unstable, and then you deleted your photos — she thinks you’ll never forgive her. She’s on the roof.” His voice was tight. “She’s going to jump.” “You’re coming with me.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the stairwell, not waiting for an answer. The jolt tore something in my incision. I felt warmth spreading between my legs. The corridor blurred at the edges. I bit through the inside of my cheek to stay upright. — The rooftop was cold and brutal with wind. Vivienne stood on the other side of the railing. Her hospital gown billowed around her like something already half-departed. She looked like she might blow away. When she saw me, her eyes lit up — just briefly — then went dark again. Her face was wrecked with crying. “Elara. My baby is dying. And you’ll never forgive me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I have nothing left. I have nothing at all.” Before I could speak, Ethan’s voice cut across the roof. “Vivienne, listen to me. Elara knows she was wrong. She came up here to ask for your forgiveness.” I spun toward him, stunned. The absurdity of it was almost dizzying. Vivienne didn’t believe him either. Her eyes went glassy, unfocused. “You can’t forgive me.” Her voice dropped lower. “You especially can’t forgive me. Because if you ever found out — that the men who hurt you that night were men I hired—” The ground fell out from under me. I lunged forward. A hand seized my arm and yanked me back hard. I turned to find Ethan, his grip like iron, his eyes like stone. “She was young. She didn’t know what she was doing. She’s nearly destroyed herself with guilt over it — she almost took her own life twice. If I hadn’t stayed with her through those months, you might never have seen her again.” I stood very still. He knew. He had known the truth the entire time. And he had chosen her. I was the one bleeding in the dark, and he looked at me and chose her. —

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Today, my husband came home with his mistress and forced me to sign the divorce papers. Then he threw me out. Because I had been a housewife and had not earned any money, they refused to let me take even a single suitcase. My bank cards were frozen. All I had left was twenty-three dollars from grocery shopping. Twenty-three dollars was not enough to find a place to stay in Manhattan. I did not want to sleep on the street, so I stubbornly kept scrolling through job apps. But every job requires work experience. I had none. Then one posting caught my eye. Wanted: Stepmother for a child. Food and lodging included. The words “lodging included” instantly caught my attention. That night, I went there. Standing outside the gates of a luxury estate, I did not expect the employer to be the Blackwell family—the richest family in the world. Beside me stood a proud-looking butler. “Mr. Blackwell is looking for a mother for his son, not a wife for himself. Please keep that in mind. Do not have any inappropriate ideas.” I lowered my head slightly and kept my eyes forward. In truth, I had only finalized my divorce that morning. I had no interest in marrying another man right now. But if I could take care of a child and have a place to stay, I would not have to spend money renting an apartment. For me, trapped in such a desperate situation, this was a very good chance. I nodded respectfully. “I understand. I won’t overstep.” Butler Whitman nodded and led me into the dining room. Beside the long dining table, a young father and son were locked in a silent battle. The calm, cold-looking man held a bowl and spoon, his face dark. The gloomy little boy bit his lip and refused to back down. After a long while, the man sighed and put down the bowl in defeat. “Leo, just one bite. Please?” Butler Whitman brought me forward. “Mr. Blackwell, another applicant is here.” The man slowly turned around. He wore simple black trousers and a white shirt. The top button was undone, faintly revealing his collarbone. I had seen this face before on financial news. He was too handsome and too striking. One look was enough to remember him forever. The moment I saw his face, I finally relaxed. He was Adrian, the richest man in the world. There was no reason for a man like him to scheme against a divorced woman as broke as me. His deep gaze swept over me lightly, his voice carrying a trace of exhaustion. “What is your name?” “Nora,” I said. He nodded and handed me the bowl. “Try feeding Leo. If you succeed, you can stay.”

I had to perform well. If I could stay, at least I would not have to sleep on the street tonight. Holding the bowl, I smiled gently and walked toward Leo. But before I could take two steps, Leo shot under the dining table. Only a pair of dark, grape-like eyes remained visible. He shouted angrily at Adrian. “No! Make her leave! I don’t want her to feed me! They are all bad women!” It seemed that before me, Leo had already met several “stepmothers.” I looked around and noticed superhero figures everywhere in the house. An idea immediately came to me. I picked up a superhero figure and placed it under the table beside Leo. Then I smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I’m not here to feed you. I’m here to feed Spider-Man.” After saying that, I pretended to feed Spider-Man. “Eat more. You need to be full before you can save New York.” “A child who doesn’t eat will have skinny arms and legs. If he can’t even protect himself, how can he protect the city?” Leo lay beside me with a pitiful look, as if he had been completely forgotten. He smacked his lips several times. I pretended not to notice. Only when his nose turned red from anxiety and he was about to cry did I act as if I had just discovered him. “Oh my! Why is there a tiny hero here too?” “Spider-Man, can you share the rest of your food with him? Only after he eats can he grow as strong as you.” I lowered my voice and pretended to speak like Spider-Man. “Of course. Only when you’re full will you have the strength to save the world.” Then I returned to my normal voice and smiled as I brought the spoon to Leo’s mouth. “Do you want to eat now?” Leo nodded hard and immediately took the spoon into his mouth. After several big bites, he even glared at me accusingly. “Why aren’t you feeding me more? Are you scared I’ll become stronger than Spider-Man? Bad woman!” I laughed. By accident, I met Adrian’s eyes. I saw the tension between his brows ease. He gave me an approving smile. I knew I had passed the interview. That night, I stayed in the estate. Four-year-old Leo and I lived on the second floor. Adrian lived alone on the third. Butler Whitman reminded me again and again. “You must never go to the third floor. A woman once got bold and sneaked upstairs in the middle of the night, trying to climb into Mr. Blackwell’s bed. Mr. Blackwell had security throw her out on the spot.” I nodded repeatedly and promised I would never cross the line. Leo was very independent. At only four years old, he could sleep by himself. That saved me a lot of trouble. The next afternoon, when Adrian came home from work, I was feeding Leo at the front of the mansion. There was a pet leash around Leo’s neck. He sat side by side with a Golden Retriever on the lawn. The Golden Retriever took one bite. Leo took one bite. They were both enjoying themselves. Adrian’s face darkened on the spot. “Nora, what the hell are you treating my son as?”

His voice was cold and sharp. I trembled. Before I could say anything, Leo spoke first. “Daddy, Nora and I are role-playing. Look, I ate way more than Max!” “Woof! Woof woof! Woof woof woof!” Adrian’s frown deepened. Slowly, he turned to look at Butler Whitman. Butler Whitman hesitated before speaking. “Mr. Blackwell, Miss Nora’s method is a little unusual, but it clearly works.” “Before, no matter how we chased after Leo to feed him, he refused to eat. But this afternoon, Leo already ate two large bowls of pasta and even swore that he must beat Max.” Adrian coldly looked at Leo, who was eating without the slightest dignity. In the end, he let out a breath. “Fine. But people and dogs should still use separate tableware.” I immediately replied, “Please don’t worry, Mr. Blackwell. Your dog is very clean.It didn’t even touch Leo’s spoon.” Adrian froze. The next second, his face turned black, and he turned around and went into the house. Because Leo had eaten too much, I had no choice but to walk him and Max around the garden for half an hour. What I did not know was that Adrian was standing by the second-floor window, watching us. Seeing Leo laugh as he raced Max, the corners of Adrian’s tightly pressed lips lifted into a rare smile. Butler Whitman sighed again and again. “Miss Nora really is impressive. Leo usually doesn’t like eating, talking, or exercising. But in just one day, he has changed so much.” “Mr. Blackwell, this time, we may truly have found the right person.” When I went upstairs, Adrian was sitting on the sofa in the first-floor living room. His long legs were crossed, and his presence was outstanding. I removed the leash from Leo and was about to take him upstairs for a bath when Adrian suddenly stopped me. “Nora, let’s talk.” I handed Leo to Butler Whitman and sat properly across from Adrian. Adrian looked at me and asked, “You’re very good with children. Have you had a child before?” “No. I once helped look after my ex-husband’s sister’s child for two years.” I shook my head. Back then, my ex-husband’s family thought I earned too little and ordered me to quit my job. After I quit, they said I was freeloading at home, lazy and useless. So they simply fired his sister’s nanny and threw all the childcare work onto me. Adrian nodded. “Your file says you were divorced?” “Yes.” “Why?” I fell silent for a moment, then said calmly, “We had different values.” Adrian looked at me with deep eyes. “You saw the job posting yesterday. I’m looking for a mother for Leo.”

He continued, “This child has no sense of security. He only wants to stay at home. He refuses to go out, and he refuses to go to kindergarten.” “I’m very busy with work, so I want to find a patient woman to be his mother.” “I will sign a prenuptial agreement with you. There will also be a property notarization.” I nodded.“I understand.” Families like theirs all did this. Although my last marriage had been for love, the gap between our backgrounds was too large, so I had also signed a prenuptial agreement. So when that love finally wore down to nothing, I was left with nothing in the divorce. Even my wedding ring had been taken back. After thinking for a moment, I said seriously, “Actually, I’m already satisfied as long as I have a place to stay. We don’t need to legally register the marriage.” But Adrian insisted, “The marriage certificate is for Leo.” “I want to find him a long-term mother. Marriage is the strongest contract.” I obediently nodded. “Then we’ll do as you say.” Adrian added, “I will give you twenty thousand dollars a month for living expenses. It will be for your personal use. Don’t worry. That money will belong completely to you.” “Okay. Thank you.” He paused, then continued, “As for married life, I have no need for it for now. So you will still sleep on the second floor.” I immediately nodded. “Okay. I have no need for that either.” And just like that, on the third day after my divorce, I got married again. Just like my first marriage, there was no wedding. At dinner, Butler Whitman specially asked the kitchen to add a few extra dishes. Adrian handed me a diamond ring. I quickly waved my hand. “That’s not necessary.” Adrian said, “For Leo.” “Oh. All right. Sorry for the trouble.” That night, I had just lain down when Leo pushed open my door and stood there nervously. “What’s wrong?” I asked. He twisted his fingers and said awkwardly, “Nora, can you read me a bedtime story?” “I’ll ask my daddy to pay you more. Of course, if you don’t want to, forget it.” My heart softened instantly. I smiled at him. “Come here.” I lifted the blanket, and the little boy climbed in smoothly. That night, Leo fell asleep in my arms while listening to my bedtime story. Early the next morning, Adrian was shocked when he heard about it. Once again, approval showed between his brows. “Nora, thank you for your hard work. I’ll add another ten thousand dollars to your monthly allowance.” “Mr. Blackwell, that’s too much!” It really was too much.

After all, I had done far more in my last marriage. But when I got divorced, I was so broke I could not even afford a motel. During the day, I looked after my ex-husband’s sister’s child. At night, I cooked for my ex-husband. After satisfying his physical needs, I still had to get up in the middle of the night to clean the house. Even so, when we divorced, the Reed family said I had enjoyed three years of good life. “Mr. Blackwell, you’re giving me too much.” “I really like Leo. He may seem cold on the outside, but he is warm inside. He is very kind.” “I only read him a story. It was nothing difficult.” As I spoke, I suddenly felt something small and warm grab my right hand. I looked down and saw Leo holding my hand, looking up at me. His little face was serious, but his dark, grape-like eyes were watery. I did not expect him to be moved so easily. Adrian said, “The women who came before only cared about pleasing me. They ignored Leo’s feelings.” “The extra ten thousand dollars is decided.” Since I could not refuse, I could only thank him. From that day on, Leo became inseparable from me. Until one day, I needed to go to the hospital for a checkup and get my medicine. Butler Whitman had told me that Leo could not leave the estate gates, or he might easily have a stress reaction. So I discussed it with him and asked him to wait for me at home. I promised I would come back as soon as possible. But Leo held my hand and refused to let go. He said nothing. He only looked at me with those beautiful, gloomy eyes. I was about to keep coaxing him to stay home obediently. But he had already climbed into the car first. Butler Whitman asked anxiously, “ Leo, are you going to the hospital with Miss Nora?” Leo nodded silently. Butler Whitman instantly burst into tears. “God bless us! Leo is actually willing to leave the house!” In the end, Leo came with me to see the doctor. The doctor said my depression had improved recently and encouraged me to keep staying positive and relaxed. Before I left, he prescribed me a pile of medicine. After we came out of the consultation room, Leo asked worriedly, “Nora, are you sick? Does it hurt?” His face was full of worry. “If it hurts, I can give you candy.” As he spoke, he took a piece of chocolate from his pocket and placed it in my palm. “If you eat candy, you can forget the pain. Daddy told me that.” Looking at his innocent, concerned little face, my tears fell without warning. I had once told my ex-husband Ethan that I had depression. But he said I was pretending to be depressed for sympathy. He said I was deliberately annoying him and causing him trouble. Yet this cold-faced little boy was willing to take out his favorite candy to comfort me. I could not hold back anymore. I pulled Leo into my arms. He quietly curled up in my embrace and even patted my back with his chubby little hand. “Nora, I will eat properly. When I grow up, I can protect you.” I laughed through my tears. “Then you’d better grow up quickly.”

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