Category: English

At her son’s birthday party, the host asked him his biggest wish. He grabbed the mic, face lit with anticipation. “I want Genevieve Sinclair to be my mom.” The guests roared with laughter. Every glance aimed at me was barbed. Mocking. Hungry for a scene. Genevieve was Nathaniel Whitmore’s assistant. This wasn’t the first time my son had tried to replace me with her. I didn’t want a public meltdown, so I let it slide. Then the party photos arrived. My face had been edited out. Genevieve’s face was in my place. I asked around. My son had demanded it. And Nathaniel had allowed it. In that moment, I felt hollowed out. A bone-deep exhaustion that drowned every flicker of rage. That night, I told him I wanted a divorce. He sat in his study, in that leather chair, and didn’t even lift his eyes. “Over a photo?” “Yes. Over a photo.” *** “How many times is this, Catherine? Stop threatening divorce every time we hit a rough patch.” Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked like a man dealing with an unreasonable subordinate, not his wife of eight years. “This time it’s real. Nathaniel, let’s end this.” I held his gaze. His mouth twitched, dismissive. He looked back down at the papers on his desk. “I don’t have time for this. The board meeting is this afternoon. My father will be there in person.” Genevieve was waiting at the study door. She cradled Nathaniel’s bespoke suit jacket in her arms like a sentry on duty. “Mrs. Whitmore, the chairman himself will be at this meeting. It wouldn’t look good for Nathaniel to be late.” Her eyes held a veiled reproach. Like I was the one being unreasonable. The anchor dragging my husband down. The fury ignited and burned through every rational thought I had left. “Did anyone ask you?!” “Catherine!” Nathaniel slammed his palm on the desk. The coffee cup jumped. Dark liquid splattered across his documents. Genevieve’s eyes welled up instantly. Her voice quivered. “Nathaniel, it’s fine. Please don’t fight with your wife because of me.” Right in the middle of this standoff, her phone rang. She answered it. “Accidentally” hit speaker. A thick Boston accent exploded into the room. “Gina, where’s your man? Still not out the door?” “Don’t tell me the wife’s got him on lockdown again. Jesus.” “Honestly, Nathaniel should just get the divorce and be with you openly. You two actually look right together.” I knew that voice. Marcus. Nathaniel’s best friend. He used to call me Cassie, sweet as pie, every time he saw me. “Marcus, stop it. We’ll be right there.” Genevieve fumbled to hang up. But the flush creeping up her ears was unstoppable. “Sorry, Mrs. Whitmore. Marcus just jokes around. Don’t take it to heart.” I ignored her. I pinned my eyes on Nathaniel. “So this is how your friends see me? In your social circle, I’m just a joke? Publicly. Openly.” Nathaniel rubbed his temple, exasperated. “Catherine, can you please stop fixating on things like this?” “I can’t control what other people say.” He grabbed his papers and moved to walk past me. As he brushed by, a scent hit me. Cedar and juniper. Exactly like the fragrance clinging to Genevieve. A silent declaration. That scent snapped my last thread of sanity. I stepped in front of him and screamed. “Sign the divorce papers! Now!” Nathaniel’s face went rigid. His knuckles were bone-white. “Over a retouched photo? Are you serious?” “I already told the photographer to rush the original negatives. We’ll hang the real one back up. Okay?” “Owen wanted the picture changed because you’re always busy. Gina’s the one raising him most of the time. Is it a crime for a kid to want a photo with the person he’s close to?” “Maybe you should reflect on that.” Genevieve’s eyes were brimming. She cut in at the perfect moment. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Whitmore. I’ve gotten too close to Owen. But Nathaniel has been preparing for this board meeting for two weeks. I’m begging you. Please don’t do this to him right now.” I looked at them. One playing the martyr, delicate and wronged. One seething with rage, hiding behind his moral high ground. And I was the only unreasonable person in this room. But they made me this way. Step by step. My marriage to Nathaniel was a business deal. My father was a founding partner at Kensington Capital, a private equity firm in Boston. The Whitmores needed to partner up for a prime commercial real estate acquisition in the Seaport District. The elders of both families sealed the deal in the boardroom. I was part of the package. The second year of our marriage, the SEC launched a surprise investigation into my father. Securities fraud. Conspiracy to commit money laundering. He never even got the chance for bail. Federal prosecutors took him straight into custody. His company’s management was purged overnight. The man who took over was his lifelong enemy. The Whitmores panicked. Less than forty-eight hours after my father was taken away, they were already pushing Nathaniel to divorce me. It was my father who begged him. In the visiting room of the federal detention center. Begged him not to abandon me then. I only found out about that later. At the time, I thought Nathaniel stayed because he had feelings for me. Then I got pregnant. They made me sign a brutal marital property agreement. I waived any claim to the Whitmore family trust. I gave up my say in my child’s education and inheritance rights. In exchange, my child would be acknowledged by the family. After I gave birth to Owen, they took him to the old estate on Nantucket. They said my “mental state made me unfit” to raise him. I was allowed to see my son once a week. Supervised by the housekeeper and a lawyer. Like a prison visit. Years later, Owen finally came back to live with me. But by then, his grandparents had taught him everything. He’d learned to despise me the way they did. He never called me Mom. Just Catherine. He introduced me to his classmates as “my father’s wife.” At one family dinner, he told Genevieve in fluent French that she should have been his mother. Then he turned to me, all innocence. “Sorry. Forgot you don’t speak French.” I wanted so badly to repair things with him. I turned a blind eye to every insult, every dismissal. I kept trying to win him over. But he only had warmth for Genevieve. Before the birthday party, I’d heard him tell his friends a hundred times. He wanted a Jellycat bunny. I bought it. I was going to give it to him when he blew out his candles. But when the host asked for his wish, he shot me a look full of spite and screamed it out. “I want Genevieve Sinclair to be my mom.” It felt like ten thousand knives stabbing into my heart at once. The guests’ laughter flayed me alive. And Nathaniel let it all happen. I swallowed the hurt and humiliation. I forced a smile. I greeted every guest like nothing was wrong. In the end, I wasn’t even allowed to have my own face in my own family photo. This time, I was truly done. I just wanted to escape this suffocating nightmare. “Nathaniel, you’re not leaving this house until you sign.”

I locked my fingers around Nathaniel’s arm. My nails bit into the fabric of his tailored suit. “Catherine! Are you trying to drive everyone insane?!” He seized the crystal paperweight off his desk and hurled it to the floor. The shatter echoed through the entire house. “Ah!” Genevieve screamed, cowering in place. Nathaniel rushed to her instantly. He shielded her behind him, patting her back, murmuring reassurances. He didn’t notice the shards of glass that had sliced open the top of my foot. Blood trailed down my ankle. It dripped onto the dark walnut floor. “Nathaniel,” Genevieve’s voice cracked. “I should’ve never gone to that birthday party. I never imagined it would cause this much trouble between you and your wife.” “It’s not your fault. This is on me.” Nathaniel’s gray-blue eyes were thick with guilt. “I should have handled this.” Genevieve shook her head, a delicate sob escaping. She tugged at his sleeve. “The most important thing right now is to calm Mrs. Whitmore down.” One sentence. That was all it took to bring Nathaniel back to cold focus. He ordered the butler to bring Owen down. A few moments later, Owen trudged down the stairs. The second he saw Genevieve, he tore free from the butler and ran into her arms. “Auntie Gina, I missed you so much.” Genevieve scooped him up, patting him affectionately. “Auntie missed you too, sweetheart.” Owen noticed the tear streaks on her face. He waved a tiny fist in the air. “Why are you crying? Who hurt you? I’ll punch them!” From start to finish, Owen didn’t spare me a single glance. I forced the words out. “Owen. Come to Mommy.” Owen finally turned his head. He looked at me with a calm far too old for his age. “Please don’t act like this in front of guests, Catherine. It’s unbecoming.” A dull blade. That’s what it felt like. Sawing slowly, cruelly, through my heart. “Owen! That’s no way to talk!” Nathaniel’s reprimand had almost no weight behind it. Just going through the motions. “He’s just a child. Give it time.” Genevieve’s voice was butter-soft. Owen immediately clung to her like she was his fortress. “Auntie Gina is the best. Not like some people. Always giving Dad trouble.” “Owen!” Nathaniel’s face finally hardened. But I knew. It wasn’t to defend me. He just didn’t want the situation to get uglier. “Apologize to your mother. Or she’s really going to leave.” Owen’s eyes lit up. Pure, unfiltered joy. “She’s really leaving?” He turned to me, his face bright with victory. “Then I apologize for my wording. You can go now.” My heart was being carved out piece by piece. Was this truly the child I’d carried inside me for ten months? Nathaniel’s brow furrowed hard. “You do not speak like that! Apologize properly to your mother!” Owen had inherited Nathaniel’s stubbornness. Stubborn as a mule. His eyes went red. He shook his head violently. “I already apologized. If she won’t accept it, that’s her problem.” Even Nathaniel was powerless against him. It was Genevieve who crouched down. Her voice was a soft coo. “Sweetheart, be good for Auntie. Say a proper sorry to your mom. Okay?” Owen bit his lip. He hesitated for a long moment. Then, impossibly, he gave in. “Sorry. Is that good enough?” Nathaniel exhaled in relief. “He apologized. Now can you stop this?” “Enough is enough. I’ve done everything I can.” Right then, Genevieve’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it and typed a reply. Immediately, Owen’s Apple Watch lit up. For the next two minutes, the phone and the watch vibrated in a steady rhythm. A secretive little smile played on Owen’s lips. He shot me a furtive glance. My stomach dropped. I realized they were chatting. Privately. About me. My fingers trembled uncontrollably. Before rational thought could stop me, I lunged forward and ripped the watch off Owen’s wrist. “That’s mine! Give it back!” Owen shrieked and flew at me. His small fists rained down on my face and neck. I barely felt the pain. I stared at the screen. Owen, Nathaniel, and Genevieve had a group chat. The name blazed at the top: The Dream Team ✨. Owen: She’s got that sour face on again today. I can’t stand her. Genevieve: Sweetie, that’s not nice to say~ But Auntie hates seeing you so upset too 🥺 Owen: Why doesn’t she just move out? Then Owen can be with Auntie Gina forever! Genevieve: Darling, we keep those thoughts right here in our hearts, okay? Saying them out loud might make Mommy sad… My vision blurred. Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. My husband. My son. And another woman. Their “Dream Team.” What a monumental joke. The watch hit the floor. The screen shattered into pieces. “You broke my watch!” Owen was shaking with rage. “Do you know Auntie Gina gave me that?!” He scooped up the broken pieces and hurled them at my head. A sharp burst of pain. Warm liquid trickled down. I touched my fingers to the wound. They came back red. “Owen. Enough.” Nathaniel finally reached out to stop him. He pulled a few tissues from the side table and handed them to me. “Sometimes when your child isn’t close to you, you need to look at yourself.” “You’re always this aggressive. Who would want to be near you?” “Alright. He apologized. You should be satisfied now.” The blood soaked through the tissues fast. I stood there in silence, looking at the three of them. My husband. Shielding Genevieve. My son. Glaring at me from the space between them. And Genevieve. Clutching Owen with such tender concern. What a blissful little family they made. “Sign.” My voice came out eerily calm. “This marriage is over.”

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In my sixth year working at NSA, it was the 99th time my husband had refused to visit. I decided to take a 36-hour train ride to surprise him. As I wrote my husband’s name on a greeting card at the florist, the clerk jumped out and accused me of trying to seduce her boss. I looked at my husband’s photo and name with suspicion, only to be told that he already had a child, and that I was his deceased sister. I laughed. I was treated like a relative, walking into my husband’s house, waiting for their true colors to be fully revealed… — I stood at the door, waited the clerk picked up her phone. I heard her murmur into it. A few minutes later, the shop door swung open and a woman walked in pushing a stroller, a little girl trailing behind her. She was pretty. Soft-featured. The kind of effortlessly warm-looking woman who shows up in insurance commercials. She looked at me and then at the roses, and something in her expression sharpened. “You’re the one who wants to send my husband flowers?” The small crowd that had started drifting in from outside shifted, curious. Someone called out: “Don’t be too hard on her, Maggie — Professor Mercer would never. You know how much that man adores you.” Another voice: “Maybe she’s here for his research. Just ask her.” The woman — Maggie — tilted her head and studied me with a cooler expression. “Is that it? Work?” I was still processing the marriage certificate on the wall. I grabbed the first thing that came to mind. “His journal submissions,” I said. “I need access to his latest work.” Something loosened in her posture. She laughed — easy and warm, like we’d just gotten past an awkward misunderstanding at a dinner party — and pulled out the chair beside her. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I completely overreacted.” She sat down and gestured for me to join her. “I’m Maggie. Daniel’s wife.” “You’re probably here about the neutron radiation research, right? That’s the one everyone wants lately.” “Neutron attenuation modeling,” I said quietly. She beamed. “You even know the name. I never could keep the projects straight. I barely got through high school.” She laughed again, the self-deprecating kind that women use when they want to be liked. “Daniel doesn’t mind. He always says I understand people better than anyone he’s ever met.” I managed a smile. Daniel and I had both earned our PhDs from the same program, the same year. He’d gone into academia. I’d been recruited — quietly, the way those things happen — into a classified division of the National Security Agency. I’d spent six years inside a compound with restricted communications, caring about the work, missing him, and wiring money home every month to cover his mother’s memory care facility. And he had been here. Building this. An older woman appeared in the doorway, recognized Maggie, and stopped to chat. “Did he actually let you out of the house on your own?” the woman teased. Maggie pressed a finger to her lips and grinned. “Don’t tell him. He’ll worry for a week.” The woman shook her head, fond and indulgent. “I have never in fifty years seen a man so devoted. He picks the jalapeños out of her food at restaurants. He walks on the traffic side of the sidewalk, every single time.” She sighed. “Where do they make men like that?” Each word landed like a small, precise puncture. Maggie slid a pastry across the table toward me. “You look like you’ve been traveling. Eat something.” I ate it. “And listen to me.” She leaned forward with the earnest warmth of someone giving advice they wished someone had given them. “I know women like you — driven, career-first — and I respect it. But don’t wait too long to find your person. Find someone like Daniel. A man who actually shows up.” She smiled. “Otherwise, honey, you’re going to be very lonely.” The irony was so complete it had become something else. Something without a name.

“Mom.” A small voice from the doorway. A little girl, maybe seven, crossed the room and pressed herself against Maggie’s side. She had Daniel’s eyes. His exact shade of gray-green. His too-serious brow. “When is Daddy coming home? I miss him.” I looked at the infant on Maggie’s lap. The girl nestled at her hip. The stroller with its cheerful mobile. A complete, self-contained world. I pressed my hands flat against my thighs beneath the table. “A son and a daughter,” I said. “You’re so lucky.” Maggie glowed. “We really are.” Daniel and I had tried to have children. Or rather: I had tried, and he had managed to be unavailable for every carefully timed attempt. Too tired. Too stressed. We were intellectuals, he said. Responsible people. A child right now would derail everything. Later it became something he called a lifestyle choice. A philosophy. He’d talk about the freedom of a childless marriage with the quiet conviction of a man who’d given it a great deal of thought. He had. Just not in the direction I’d assumed. He already had his children. He hadn’t needed mine. Maggie glanced at her phone. “He’s almost never late getting home. Today is just one of those days — sorry to keep you waiting.” I stared at her. Daniel had told me “working late” so many times the phrase had become white noise. Every unanswered call. Every canceled visit. Every holiday I spent alone in a government facility, eating cafeteria food and telling myself the work was worth it. He was apparently home for dinner every single night at this address. “My place is close,” Maggie said, standing and lifting the baby. “Want to wait somewhere warm?” I stood before she’d finished the sentence. “Does he live with your family?” I asked, keeping my voice light. “His parents are gone. It’s just mine. And honestly—” she smiled, a little proud, “—he treats my parents like his own. My dad actually cried at Christmas last year. Said he never thought he’d have a son like Daniel.” I thought about the woman in the memory care unit. The one who’d wandered out of her room during a storm, ended up in the facility’s ornamental pond, and had to be pulled out by two nurses. The one Daniel had told me was “handled” when I called in a panic from a secure phone line at two in the morning. Handled by me, as it turned out. We turned a corner, and I glanced down at the little girl’s backpack. Embroidered on the front panel, in neat yellow thread: NSA FAMILY SERVICES SCHOOL — FORT MEADE. I stopped walking. Maggie noticed and smiled back at me. “Her school. Special placement — Daniel qualified because of his sister.” Her voice softened. “She died on duty. Six years ago. NSA.” The sidewalk tilted. “His sister,” I said. “Claire.” She said the name gently, like she’d said it many times. “He cleared out all her things afterward. Said he couldn’t bear the reminders. Even the photos.” She reached into her bag and pressed a hand warmer into my palm — small, flat, already warm. “You look pale. Are you cold? Daniel always keeps extras in my bag. He worries about my circulation in winter.” My name is Claire Mercer. I am apparently dead.

Maggie talked the entire way to her building. She had a gift for it — a natural, generous warmth that would have been entirely likeable under any other circumstances. “The NSA survivor benefits have been such a blessing,” she was saying. “Healthcare, school priority, the monthly support — Daniel always says Claire would have wanted her niece and nephew taken care of.” Her niece and nephew. The dependent allowance assigned to my personnel file covered exactly two children. That was why. That was the specific, calculated reason he had spent six years explaining to me why responsible, educated people don’t rush into parenthood. Because the quota was full. Because his other children were already using it. “When was your son born?” I asked. “November third. Daniel arranged everything — a private hospital, the best OB in the city. He was so wonderful about all of it.” November third. The day my father died. The ER doctor had told me afterward: if he’d gotten there forty minutes earlier, they could have saved him. A forty-minute window. I had called Daniel seventeen times that afternoon. Seventeen. I still had the call log. He had wept at the funeral. Fallen to his knees in the parking lot and hit himself across the face with an open hand, sobbing so hard that people around him looked frightened. I had held him and told him it wasn’t his fault. That he hadn’t known how serious it was. He’d been in a private hospital suite, watching his son come into the world. “The age gap between them is funny,” Maggie continued, adjusting the baby on her hip. “Almost seven years. They fight constantly.” She laughed. “If you ever have kids, put them closer together.” I already knew everything I needed to know. Maggie gestured ahead. “Here we are.” Not an apartment. A full townhouse on a quiet, tree-lined street, with a real front door and window boxes. The kind of place that costs four times what Daniel’s university salary could cover. Inside: high ceilings, warm light, a vase of white tulips on the dining table, a gallery wall of family photographs, every sharp corner cushioned with silicone bumpers for the baby. It smelled like a candle that cost forty dollars. “Daniel did all of this,” Maggie said. “He says a home should feel like one.” Daniel, who had never once done the dishes in the apartment we shared. Who left his clothes on the bathroom floor and waited for me to pick them up. Who watched television while I scrubbed the kitchen on my four-day home leave visits, because those were the only days anyone cleaned anything. “It’s beautiful,” I said. “He must be doing well. Did he buy this place?” “Six years ago.” She poured water for both of us. “I was new to the city when we met. He set me up — the flower shop, this house. He said he wanted me to feel secure.” Daniel’s family had nothing when we married. Our apartment was my parents’ property. His salary was modest and I had seen every bank statement. The front door opened. A man stepped in — mid-sixties, heavyset, with the slow, territorial movements of someone who considered this his ground. He looked at me with immediate suspicion. “Who’s this?” Maggie introduced me brightly: a government contact, here about Daniel’s research. The man — her father, I gathered — settled into his armchair with the satisfaction of a man claiming a throne. “Daniel’s like a real son to me,” he said. “The government recognizing his work — that makes me proud. Stay for dinner. I’ll cook.” Maggie’s phone rang. She answered on speaker, without thinking. Daniel’s voice filled the room. “Hey, sweetheart. I’ll be late — probably after midnight. I know you’ve been craving that bakery on Elm Street, so I grabbed you a box on my way. Sorry to keep you waiting again.” Maggie’s whole face lit up. The call ended. My own phone buzzed. A text from Daniel: *Happy almost-New Year. Sorry I can’t be there this holiday — you know how it is. Take care of yourself at the base. I’ll check on Mom. Come home soon. You work so hard. I love you.* I read it twice. Then I opened my contacts and called my unit’s legal officer. “I need a full records pull,” I said, keeping my voice very even. “Property, dependents, financials. And get me an attorney. My husband is committing adultery.”

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The day we were supposed to sign our dream job offer, my boyfriend tried to give it away. Gavin and I sat across from the Aetheris Dynamics recruiter, two top Stanford seniors with matching S-tier offers. It was contract day. He hadn’t even touched his pen. “We’ll sign,” Gavin said, arms crossed, “but only if you give Chloe Davis a position too.” My pen slipped. It tore a hole straight through my contract. I couldn’t believe his savior complex had followed us here. He was dragging his fragile ex-girlfriend into our job offer. The HR executive didn’t miss a beat. She looked right at me. “The $400K package is yours. Are you signing?” Gavin snatched my contract before I could answer. He shoved both documents toward her. His pen left a long scratch across the paper. “Fiona and I are a package deal,” he said. “She goes where I go. And I have plenty of other offers to consider.” The recruiter’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes went cold. “Aetheris is a cutting-edge AI company. We don’t do ‘package deals.’” She paused. “But I can offer your friend an interview slot.” Gavin didn’t budge. “Either all three of us sign, or I walk. Take it or leave it.” The recruiter tapped her fingers on the desk, considering. “Fine. I’ll think about it. You can wait outside.” Gavin glanced at me. “I’ll be downstairs.” He walked out like he’d already won. The recruiter rubbed her temples. “And you? He doesn’t sign, you don’t sign either?” “Aetheris is my dream company,” I said quickly. “I’d kill to work here.” Her expression softened. “Can I ask about the $400K package?” She slid Gavin’s unsigned contract across the table. “We were torn between you and Gavin. Now that he’s out, you’re obviously the better choice.” The salary figure was bolded in red. My heart pounded. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.” I signed my name without hesitation. The recruiter raised an eyebrow. “Gavin seemed pretty sure you’d follow him anywhere. Aren’t you two together?” My pen paused. “We were. Not anymore.” She actually laughed. “Good. I was worried you’d throw away your future for a boyfriend.” She pushed a non-disclosure agreement toward me. “All S-tier offers require confidentiality. We don’t want competitors poaching you. Keep this quiet until graduation.” I signed that too. Months of interviews and stress, finally over. Downstairs, Gavin rushed toward me. “Don’t worry. Aetheris isn’t stupid. They’ll come begging us to sign.” I stared at him, not sure where to even start. “You’re talented, you’ve won awards—but Chloe isn’t like you. If I don’t help her, she’ll never find a job.” Of course. It always came back to Chloe. “I owe her,” he said, his jaw tight. “We both do.” “Enough.” I cut him off. “I’ve heard this a thousand times.” “Help her if you want. But Chloe doesn’t even graduate until next year. Why are you locking down her offer now?”

Gavin’s voice turned desperate. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. Once I graduate, who’s going to look out for her? I have to lock down her offer now.” “And after she graduates? Buying a house, getting promoted, getting married, having kids—are you going to handle all of that too?” He stared at me, stunned. “Fiona, you can’t say that. When I chose you, she got into a car accident. She was in the hospital for months. Did you forget?” I took a deep breath. “But when you and I got together, you two had already been broken up for six months.” He cut me off. “I’ve never owed anyone anything in my life. Except her. The only thing I can do is help her however I can.” I’d heard this speech for three years. My ears were numb to it. Chloe was his first love. She retook her SATs just to follow him to Stanford. When she heard Gavin had a new girlfriend, she drove off crying and crashed her car. She missed her Ivy League interview and spent months in therapy. Gavin believed he owed her. Three years together, three years of hearing this guilt trip on repeat. I used to think he was honorable. Now it just made me sick. “Gavin.” A soft voice floated over. Chloe stood under a tree, waving at him with a delicate smile. “How did it go? They didn’t give you a hard time, did they?” Gavin shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.” “I’m so lucky you’re helping me. I’m not smart, and I’m so bad at everything. Without you, I’d probably go bald from stress trying to find a job next year.” She glanced at me as she spoke. Gavin’s voice softened. “I won’t let you lose a single hair.” Chloe lowered her head shyly. “I heard Aetheris is only hiring two people from Stanford this year. If they sign me, will that hurt Fiona’s chances?” Gavin paused, then quickly brushed it off. “She’ll be fine. Fiona has other offers. She’s a big girl—don’t worry about her.” In his mind, I was talented. I won awards. I didn’t need his protection. But Chloe? She wasn’t smart. She was fragile. She couldn’t survive without him. Three people in a relationship is one too many. I turned to leave. Chloe called after me. “Fiona, let’s grab dinner together! My treat. To celebrate.” “No thanks,” I said flatly. “I’m going to the library.” Before I got far, I heard Chloe whisper to Gavin. “Does Fiona hate me?” “She’s just like that. She really wanted Aetheris, and now that it’s not happening, she’s upset. Give her time.” I stopped walking for a second. Then kept going without looking back. I did need time. Time to process what I now understood about both of them. I wondered when they’d finally wake up. What world-class tech company bends its hiring rules for a fresh grad? I grabbed dinner alone at the dining hall, then rushed to the library. Gavin texted me. Don’t be upset. I got you your favorite garlic shrimp. I’ll come pick you up—eat it while it’s hot. I flipped my phone face-down on the desk. No time to be upset. Aetheris had assigned me a mentor—a senior engineer named Sebastian Thorne. Also a Stanford alum, two years ahead of us. He’d come to campus for a recruiting event once, as a distinguished alumnus speaker. I hadn’t even started the job yet, and I already had the chance to learn from him. The bigger the package, the higher the expectations. I wasn’t going to let anyone down. So I buried myself in the library, day after day. Gavin, meanwhile, seemed convinced Aetheris would cave to his demands. He rejected all his other offers and started enjoying his pre-graduation vacation. He and Chloe made a group chat for planning a graduation trip. They added me. I gave him a friendly warning. Forget the trip. Is your offer even confirmed? He replied: Finally showing some concern? I’ll ask them. Chloe suddenly sent a string of messages. I want to go to the beach! I can wear pretty dresses and swimsuits! Gavin, let’s go to the beach. Remember when we were dating, you promised to take me to see the ocean? You still owe me! Ugh, never mind. Forget I said anything. It’s your graduation trip. I don’t have the right to suggest anything. Gavin immediately reassured her. Of course you do. We’re not together but we’re still family. I promised you, and I’ll keep that promise. Let me look at hotels. I scoffed and muted the chat. Then I pinned Sebastian’s chat to the top. Then I pinned Sebastian’s conversation to the top of my messages—so whenever he sent articles or files, I’d see them right away.

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It’s been thirty days of the online mob tearing me apart and my husband finally unlocks the door to the room where he’s been keeping me. His childhood sweetheart got drunk and killed my mother in a hit-and-run on some empty street. My husband threatened our child’s life to force me into signing a settlement agreement that would get her off the hook. Then, he told everyone I was the drunk driver who killed my own mother, took my phone, and locked me away for a month. When I finally got out, every social media platform had me painted as this selfish, heartless monster. I couldn’t take the pressure anymore and jumped off our building. But when I open my eyes again, I’m back on the day of the accident. This time, I lock my mother in her room and refuse to let her leave the house. But somehow, Jessica still manages to run over and kill some old lady with her car. *** I barely get my mother’s door locked when my husband, Nathan Gray, calls me. “Ophelia, where are you?” His voice sounds panicked and tense. When I tell him I’m home, he lets out this quiet sigh of relief and goes silent for a few seconds before he speaks again. “Jessica… Jessica hit someone with her car. I just finished dealing with it, and I’m heading home now. Wait for me, okay?” I’m completely stunned. It takes me a second to process what he just said. Nathan’s childhood sweetheart, Jessica Hayes, hit someone again, but my mother’s locked in her room. So who the hell did she hit this time? I have him on speaker, so my mother hears everything through the door. I tell her, “You wanted to know why I locked you in there and won’t let you leave? Promise me you’ll stay in that room and keep completely quiet until I say you can come out. You’ll understand everything soon enough.” My mother sounds confused but she agrees anyway. Nathan gets home within minutes. The second he walks through the door, he rushes over and pulls me into his arms. His voice comes out muffled against the top of my head. “Ophelia, I’m so sorry. Jessica accidentally hit your mother with her car. She died at the scene.” I jerk away from him and stare at him in complete shock. “Wait, who did you say got hit?” Nathan looks at me with this mix of pity and helplessness in his eyes. “Ophelia, I know this is hard to process right now. Jessica told me it wasn’t on purpose, she just got blinded by the sun for a second.” He pauses and his voice goes flat. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s your mom. She didn’t watch where she was going. I already chewed Jessica out pretty good and she’s really shaken up about it, so I sent her home to rest. But she promised me she’ll come by in a couple days to apologize to you in person.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Even if it’s not my mother who died today, it’s still a human life. How the hell does Jessica get to kill someone and just walk away like nothing happened? “Nathan, you realize you’re protecting a criminal, right?” I can’t help but ask. He sighs and pulls a settlement agreement out of his bag, unfolds it, and holds it in front of my face. “Look, I know you’re upset, but Jessica’s got like a million followers now. She’s a major influencer, and she can’t have anything on her record.” “Her dad saved my life when I was a kid, and I promised I’d protect Jessica for the rest of her life. You’re my wife, we’re family, so this debt is partly yours too.” He taps the paper. “Your mother’s the one who died, so you need to sign this settlement agreement. That way, even if this comes out later, it won’t affect her. Just think of it as helping me repay what I owe her family.” I slap with all my strength across the face. The crack echoes through the room, and his head whips to the side. “Nathan, you’re a monster! Is Jessica’s reputation really more important to you than someone’s life?” That slap pisses him off. He shoves me hard, and I fall backward, my forehead slamming into the coffee table. A golf ball-sized bump swells up immediately. He stands over me with an annoyed look on his face. “Ophelia, I’m not here to ask for your permission. I’m telling you what’s going to happen. You’re signing this agreement whether you like it or not.”

In my past life, I never understood why Nathan would frame me to protect Jessica and use our child’s life as a threat. How could his wife and child matter less than Jessica’s reputation? Living through this again, I finally get it. Nathan doesn’t love me, and he doesn’t love our child. The person he’s always loved is Jessica. I hold my throbbing forehead and look at the man standing in front of me. I hate him so much. I hate how I died so miserably in my last life, how my mother died, how I was stupid enough to marry this piece of garbage who’s worse than an animal. When Nathan sees the pure hatred in my eyes, something flickers across his face. He reaches out toward me like he wants to help me up. “Ophelia, I didn’t mean to push you. I was just angry. Let me see if you’re hurt…” Before he can finish, his phone starts ringing like crazy. It’s Jessica calling. When Nathan answers the call, Jessica’s soft crying comes through the speaker. “Nate, what do I do? I think someone got me on camera.” Nathan cleaned up all the evidence right after the accident, but it was getting dark, and Jessica didn’t notice someone at the other end of the alley recording everything on their phone. “I just got this anonymous photo showing the two of us standing over the body. What if whoever sent it goes to the cops?” Jessica continues. She sobs harder, and Nathan’s face tightens with worry. That’s when it hits me. The police! I’ve been so focused on coming back in time that I didn’t even think to call the cops. While Nathan’s distracted, I pull out my phone to dial 911. If I report Jessica’s hit-and-run right now, the police will find evidence no matter how well Nathan cleaned up the scene. Before I can even dial, Nathan catches me. He roars at me and slaps the phone out of my hand, “Ophelia, what the hell are you doing? Are you trying to call the cops?” The phone hits the floor, and the screen shatters, but I lunge for it anyway. Pain shoots through my hand as Nathan stomps down on it to keep me from grabbing the phone. He’s got this cruel smirk on his face while he grinds his foot down on my fingers. “I already cleaned up every trace of evidence before I came home. The car’s at the scrapyard, and your mother’s body is already in the crematorium. Even if you call the cops, there’s no proof Jessica was the one who hit her.” “Guess I need to teach you a lesson so you’ll learn to behave.” He grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me up off the floor. My phone’s completely destroyed, and the screen’s dead, but that’s not enough for him. He drags me toward the bedroom. In my last life, he locked me in that room for a month and treated me like an animal. I had to eat, sleep, and use the bathroom all in the same space. Just thinking about that bone-deep terror makes my whole body shake. I look up at him with pleading eyes. “Nathan, please don’t. I won’t call the police, just please don’t lock me in that room. You know how terrified I am of the dark.” I’m trying to make myself look harmless, hoping to trigger whatever shred of affection he might still have for me as his wife. Something flickers in his eyes, and he looks away. “Ophelia, I don’t want to hurt you, but I promised Jessica’s father I’d protect her. Just sign the settlement agreement, and I’ll let you go.” “Why does it have to be me who signs it?” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because it’s your mother who died.” I shake my head. “But Nathan, how are you so sure it’s my mother who’s dead?” Nathan clearly wasn’t expecting that question. He freezes, and his grip on me loosens as he answers automatically. “I got to the scene right after Jessica called me. She’d been drinking a little, and she was driving pretty fast.” His voice drops, and there’s guilt creeping into his tone. “The impact was severe. The victim’s face was completely unrecognizable, but I checked the body, and she was wearing a silver bracelet on her wrist. I recognized it immediately as that custom bracelet you gave your mother last year.” A custom bracelet? At that moment, I realize who actually died. It’s Samantha Gray, Nathan’s own mother.

Samantha lives in the same apartment complex as us, and I’d ordered two identical bracelets back then. One for Samantha and one for my mother. So Nathan’s not just protecting the person who killed his own mother, he personally destroyed the evidence and had his mother’s body cremated. The absurdity of it hits me and I can’t help it. I actually laugh out loud. I pick up that settlement agreement from the floor, shove it in Nathan’s face, and tell him very seriously, “Nathan, I’m not the one who’s qualified to sign this thing, and I’m warning you right now, if you actually go through with this, you’re going to regret it.” “Why?” he asks without thinking. I say, “Because the person who died isn’t my mother. It’s yours.” I thought after hearing that, Nathan would at least hesitate or try to verify what I’m saying. Instead, his expression changes completely, and he points at me and starts yelling. “Ophelia, have you lost your mind? How dare you curse my mother like that? You’d say something this disgusting just to smear Jessica’s name? I shouldn’t have gone easy on you at all.” He lunges at me like he’s about to hit me again. I dodge out of the way quickly. Watching him play the devoted lover ready to fight for his woman, I suddenly feel exhausted by this whole thing. I sigh, and I’m about to call my mother out of the room so he can face reality. “Nathan, I’m telling you the truth. If you don’t believe me, I’ll…” Jessica’s phone call cuts me off mid-sentence. “Nate, did you get everything sorted out? That guy who took the photo just messaged me again, and he’s demanding ten million dollars to keep quiet. He says if I don’t pay him, he’s going straight to the cops with the pictures. “Nate, I’m so scared. You promised you’d get me that settlement agreement, right? What if Ophelia won’t sign it? Am I going to prison?” Nathan’s heart melts at the sound of her distress, and he keeps reassuring her over and over. “Jessica, don’t be scared, okay? I promise you, as long as I’m here, nobody’s sending you to prison. “I’ll handle everything for you. You said the photo only shows your back, right? If there’s no face in it, who can tell you were the one driving?” I stare at him. “What are you planning to do?” Nathan hangs up and turns to me with a gentle smile, but the words that come out of his mouth are pure venom. “Besides the settlement agreement, I just thought of an even better way to clear Jessica’s name completely. “Ophelia, why don’t you take the fall for her? All you have to do is tell everyone that you were the one driving this morning and you killed your own mother. That way, even if the guy with the photos comes forward and says it was Jessica, I can testify as your husband and confirm it was actually you. I’ll just say you paid internet trolls to try and frame Jessica.” It’s the exact same plan from my past life. My vision blurs with rage, and I scream at him, “Nathan, do you even have a soul?” Nathan gets more and more excited about his own brilliant idea. “Ophelia, don’t worry, I’ll hire you the best defense lawyer money can buy and make sure you only serve a few years. “While you’re inside, I’ll take care of our child and raise her right, so you won’t have anything to worry about. When you get out, we’ll still be one happy family.” I force the words out through clenched teeth. “Don’t even think about it! Nathan, over my dead body!” He moves closer and I back away, biting down so hard I taste blood in my mouth. That’s when the door clicks open from outside. Our daughter, Ava Gray, is home from school, and she calls out “Daddy!” in that sweet voice of hers. Nathan’s eyes darken as he looks between me and Ava. “Ophelia, since you won’t cooperate, don’t blame me for what happens next.” A bad feeling hits me immediately. “Ava, run!” But it’s too late. Nathan rushes over and pins Ava to the ground, gripping her jaw to force her mouth open. His other hand pulls out a chocolate bar from his pocket, tears off the wrapper with his teeth, and moves to shove it in her mouth. Ava starts crying from how rough he’s being, and my heart clenches. “No!” Nathan turns to look at me, and his eyes are bloodshot and wild. “Ophelia, you’re taking the fall and signing that settlement agreement. Both of them, no exceptions! “If you don’t agree, I’m shoving this chocolate in Ava’s mouth. You know she’s severely allergic. If she doesn’t get to the hospital in time, she could die.”

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Maya Carter, my housekeeper, is never late. Until today. “Mrs. Harrison, I’m so sorry dinner’s not ready yet. Please don’t be upset with me, but I couldn’t help it. I waited downstairs for over half an hour, and nobody came through to swipe in. I tried calling Mr. Harrison but he didn’t pick up, so that’s why I’m late.” I pause mid-motion as I’m slipping off my shoe, and my frown deepens. “Mrs. Carter, didn’t Tyler give you the access card?” She blinks at me, totally confused. “Access card? Mr. Harrison never gave me one.” “Never?” “No, ma’am.” Maya wipes the sweat from her forehead, her voice careful. “This whole month, I’ve been waiting for other residents to open the door so I could sneak in behind them, or I’d call Mr. Harrison, and he’d buzz me up. Today he just didn’t answer, so I was stuck down there.” That’s weird. The smart lock system showed that the spare access card had been used multiple times this month. *** I bought this penthouse apartment outright before we got married and paid in full. Between my demanding work schedule and constant business trips, I hired Maya to handle dinners and housekeeping. We had one spare access card sitting in the drawer at the time. I handed it directly to Tyler with clear instructions. “The housekeeper’s coming tomorrow for her trial day. Give her this card so she can get in.” He took it from my hand with that warm, attentive smile of his. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ve got it covered.” But here we are a month later, and Maya’s never seen that card. I pull up the electronic lock app on my phone. Seventeen entries logged for that card over the past month. Tyler and I both use fingerprint access, so who’s been using the card? I’m still turning this over in my mind when the door opens. Tyler’s home. “Hey, Maya was late today,” I say, keeping my tone casual. “She said she doesn’t have an access card to get in. Didn’t I ask you to give it to her a month ago?” Tyler’s hands still on his tie, and he lets out an awkward laugh. “Oh, that. I was slammed that week and must’ve completely spaced on it. Probably shoved it in a drawer somewhere. Let me look for it, and soon as I find it, I’ll get it to her.” “Don’t worry about it.” I set down my magazine, keeping my voice even. “If you can’t find it, it’s fine. I’ll report it lost to the building management tomorrow and get a replacement. Maya shouldn’t have to deal with this hassle every day.” “Don’t!” Tyler whips around, and his voice shoots up several notches. When he sees the confused look on my face, he quickly softens his tone and comes over to put his arm around my shoulders. “I mean, the replacement fee is like a couple hundred bucks, you know? No point wasting money on that. It’s gotta be somewhere in the apartment. I’ll look for it properly over the next couple days, and I’m sure I’ll find it. “You work so hard, and you finally get to come home and relax, so don’t stress over little things like this. Look at you, you’ve been anxious again these past few days, haven’t you? Your face doesn’t look good.” “It doesn’t?” I raise my eyebrow. “Yeah, you used to have these chubby cheeks, and your complexion was so rosy. You looked so adorable back then.” With him joking around like this, I drop the whole access card thing. But something still feels off. That night while he’s in the shower, I pick up his phone. The passcode was still my birthday. His messages are clean with no suspicious conversations, and even his Instagram and X accounts barely have any contacts. I open up his shopping apps next and scroll through his order history. Nothing but everyday household stuff. Then I checked the archived and deleted orders. Buried among a bunch of removed purchases, I find an order from a week ago for a necklace. The shipping address is his office, and the recipient name is Nicole Perry.

Nicole’s a new intern at his company. I actually met her at the last company party. She seemed pretty shy and was super deferential toward me, kind of sweet really. I put his phone back exactly where I found it, acting like nothing happened. After Tyler finishes his shower, I casually bring up Nicole. He doesn’t seem guilty at all and actually goes on about how much she’s improved this past month, so he rewarded her with a necklace. That eases about half my suspicions since Tyler does frequently buy gifts to reward his team. The next day at work, I pull out my phone and connect to our backup home camera. I installed this camera six months ago to check on my cat. It’s hidden pretty well, tucked behind a row of books on the living room bookshelf and pointed right at the sofa and entryway. Later, I sent the cat back to my mom’s place, and I never turned the camera back on after that. Tyler’s completely forgotten it exists. Last night while he was asleep, I quietly plugged the camera back in and got it online. On the feed, the apartment is dead quiet. Nothing unusual at all. I check it for three days straight and don’t catch anything suspicious. Am I just being paranoid? Maybe the necklace really was just a reward for his employee? Deep down, I don’t want to believe that the man I’ve shared a bed with for seven years is cheating. Friday afternoon, work suddenly sends me on a business trip to a nearby city. I leave the office two hours early to go home and pack. When I push open the door, Tyler’s in the bathroom taking a shower. He usually only showers at night before bed, so showering at this hour is weird. “Babe? What’re you doing home so early?” Tyler comes out with a towel wrapped around his waist. When he sees me, panic flashes across his face, but he covers it quickly. “Last-minute business trip,” I say as I head into the bathroom. “Just grabbing a few things.” I pick up a bottle of body lotion from the counter, and immediately something feels off. The bottle’s way lighter than it should be. I hold it up to the light and my stomach drops. It was more than half full just a few days ago, and now it’s practically empty? That uneasy feeling settles deeper in my chest, but I don’t say anything. I just pack my suitcase in silence. When I’m ready to leave, Tyler’s suddenly all attentive. “You work so hard, babe. Let me take you down to the garage.” He grabs my suitcase with that considerate smile plastered on his face, playing the perfect doting husband. By the time I check into the hotel in the neighboring city, it’s already nine at night. I don’t even bother washing up before I pull out my phone and open the home security app. The feed loads, and there’s Tyler, sitting alone on the couch scrolling through his phone, looking completely bored. I watch the screen for a good ten minutes, and I’m just about to close it and go to sleep when I hear something at the door. The electronic lock clicks open with a beep. The door swings wide, and a figure in a short skirt walks in like she owns the place.

It’s Nicole. And she’s holding the missing access card. Tyler springs up from the couch with this look on his face I haven’t seen in forever, all soft and adoring. Nicole moves through the apartment like it’s her own home, and she doesn’t even put on the guest slippers. Instead, she slides into my pink silk house slippers, the ones Tyler gave me for my birthday that I barely ever wear because they’re too nice. “Babe,” Nicole coos, and throws herself into Tyler’s arms. “There’s my girl. What took you so long? I missed you.” “Oh stop, I had to do my makeup.” Nicole traces little circles on his chest with her finger, her voice all playful. “Besides, that wife of yours won’t be back for a whole week, so we’ve got plenty of time.” “Well then, I’m gonna make the most of this week with you, baby.” Tyler scoops Nicole up in his arms, laughing as he carries her straight into my bedroom. I stare at my phone screen, my nails digging so hard into my palm I can almost feel blood. He’s actually cheating on me. My first instinct is to call Tyler and confront him, but as I pull up his number, my finger hovers over the call button. Yelling at him now would only tip them off and give them time to cover their tracks. I can’t let them get away with this. The next few days on my business trip drag on forever. During the day I force myself to focus on work, but at night, I hide in my hotel room torturing myself by watching the security footage. Nicole’s acting like she owns the place. She’s wearing my pajamas, using my skincare products, and sleeping with my husband in my bed. The most disgusting part? Nicole actually dips her toes into my ridiculously expensive body butter and scoops out the cream with her toes to use as a foot mask. Tyler just stands there watching, and instead of stopping her, he’s laughing and massaging her feet. Watching this makes me rush to the bathroom and dry heave. I splash cold water on my face and stare at my pale reflection in the mirror. My expression hardens. If they want to be this shameless, then they can’t blame me for what comes next. I download all the security footage from the past few days and back everything up to the cloud. Then I call my lawyer. “Mr. Lawson, I need you to draft divorce papers. I want him to walk away with nothing.” After I hang up, I check the calendar. Tomorrow’s my birthday. Tyler said he’d celebrate with me, but clearly he’s forgotten all about it. Fine. I’ll throw myself a “grand” birthday party. I push through all my work in five days and book an early flight home. Then I send out three group messages. The first one goes to my parents and Tyler’s parents. “Mom, Dad, it’s my birthday this Saturday. Tyler wants to throw a party at our place and we’d love for you all to come celebrate with us.” The second message goes to Tyler’s buddies, his coworkers, and a few of Nicole’s rivals at the company. “Party at Tyler’s place Saturday at 10 AM! Good food, good drinks, come hang out!” The last one goes to the building manager. “I’m upgrading our security system Saturday morning. Could you have two security guards wait by the door? We might need help moving some things.” Everyone happily agrees. The next morning I land and head straight home. On the security feed, those two are still all over each other in bed. Tyler reaches out and strokes Nicole’s face. “Baby, wake up. You hungry? I’ll order some takeout.” “Mmm… don’t wanna move…” Nicole mumbles. “Tyler, just go make something. I want your sandwiches.” “Okay, I got you, babe.” Tyler kisses her sweetly and gets up to head into the kitchen. At 9:50 a.m., the doorbell rings.

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15 years ago, the body of a victim who had been tortured and murdered appeared in my room. My parents chose justice over family and accused me of murder. My twin brother, Calum West, cried as he tried to convince me to turn myself in. My wife, Wendy Fisher, who was a company CEO, immediately wanted to divorce me. I was sentenced to prison. The victim’s family members paid other inmates to make me lose my voice and break my limbs. The torture followed me through every one of those fifteen years. On the day of my release, my ex-wife and brother came to pick me up wearing wedding rings. Calum said emotionally, “Welcome back, James. Now that you’ve done your time, we’ll take care of you from now on.” The prison guard next to me said earnestly, “Look at how well your brother and his wife are treating you. This is your chance to turn over a new leaf.” I sneered. “But I’m not the murderer from 15 years ago. It was my twin brother, Calum West,” I said inwardly. *** The journalists who came with my brother, Calum West, surrounded me. Cameras of all sizes were aimed at me. “Mr. West, you murdered someone ruthlessly and also tortured the victim’s body, but were only sentenced to prison for 15 years. Is this because of your sister-in-law, Ms. Fisher’s wealth and power?” “What do you have to say about the victim’s family members saying that they want to kill you?” “Did you ever regret what you did during the past 15 years?” They got so close to me that their microphones were practically in my face. The journalists crowding around me immediately reminded me of the living hell that I had been through over the past 15 years in prison. I subconsciously put my hands on my head and started backing away. But my crippled leg caused me to trip and fall over. “Please… please don’t hit me…” Amid the commotion, my ex-wife, Wendy Fisher, pushed through the crowd and stood between those journalists and me. “What my husband’s brother committed was not intentional murder, and he’s done his time. There were no under-the-table dealings. If you keep on harassing James, then my lawyer will be in touch with every single one of you!” shouted Wendy. Only after hearing her threat did the journalist disperse. Only then did Calum rush forward. He reached out his hand with a concerned look on his face. “Are you alright, James? It was a good thing that I asked Wendy to come along. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know the journalists would be here as well.” Wendy wrapped her arms around Calum’s other hand and said softly, “It wasn’t your fault. There’s no need for you to feel sorry.” I swatted his hand away and struggled to climb off the ground. I tried my best to straighten my back, which had been curved by years of submission. “Drop the act already.” Calum was the only person that I didn’t want to show my weak side to. I dragged my cripple leg and walked stubbornly towards the car. Calum quickly got into the backseat as well. He deliberately showed me the wedding ring on his finger. He sounded apologetic, but he still couldn’t hide the proud look in his eyes. “James, Wendy and I got married 15 years ago. Back when you committed murder and were sentenced to prison, I had poor health. So in order to take care of me, she proposed to me.” With that said, he pretended to be surprised and gasped. Then he smiled apologetically. “Don’t worry, James. Wendy and I have already talked about it. You’ll still be living in the villa. After all, you’ve been behind bars for 15 years. Even if you are a talented person, it’ll still be quite hard for you to survive by yourself.” “Calum!” Wendy interrupted Calum’s nonstop ranting. She looked at me from the rearview mirror, and her voice softened. “James only just got out of prison. Let him get some rest.” Calum nodded sulkily. I turned and looked at the scenery that was speeding past outside the window. My thoughts seemed to have drifted to what happened 15 years ago. Back then, I was a top venture capitalist in the industry. Countless investors would line up outside my office, money in hand, all eager for a seat at my table. The money Wendy used to start her company, along with all the follow-up funding, was provided by me. She once grabbed my hand tightly with a grateful look in her eyes and promised me that she would protect me for as long as she lived. Neither would she let me suffer any grievance. But 15 years of imprisonment caused my talent to wither away. It just numbed me. The world I once belonged to no longer had a place for me. After the car came to a halt, I looked at the building in front of me in a little bit of a daze. The house that Calum was talking about just now was actually the house that Wendy and I lived in after we got married. Our parents walked over to greet us, but all their attention was on Calum. I stood at the side and watched as the three of them interacted warmly with each other. It was as if I were just an outsider. Wendy walked over with my luggage in her hand. “Mom, Dad. James’s back.” The smile on their faces disappeared. When they turned to look at me, both of them frowned almost at the same time. My father’s face became disgusted. “Wendy, I thought I already told you not to bring a freak who tortures other people’s bodies back home!” My mother nodded in agreement. “You’re dad’s right, Wendy. His presence is only making the air in the house foul.” My heart ached at those words. Ever since I was born, my parents had always favored my brother. I always thought that they loved me as well, but realization dawned on me 15 years ago. It seemed that everything had only been my imagination. Calum grabbed our parents and said, “Mom, Dad, James has been in prison for 15 years. Can’t you be nicer to him for my sake?” Our parents snorted and didn’t say any more. The dinner finished very quickly. I was arranged to stay in a storage room. I remained silent when I saw the so-called bed, which was only a plank of wood with no mattress. In the middle of the night, I lay on the plank of wood and didn’t feel sleepy at all. In prison, the other inmates took shifts keeping watch over me, making sure I never slept. The moment I closed my eyes, the beating started. Knock. Knock. Knock. The sudden knocking made me jump. It took me a while to realize that I was no longer in prison. Listening to the knocking of the door, I slowly got out of bed. I clenched my fists when I saw who was standing at the door. “What are you doing here?”

Wendy looked worried. “I came to check on you. After all, you only just got out of prison.” “Get lost! I don’t need you to pretend that you care about me!” I said in a cold voice. She looked at me helplessly. There was a flash of indulgence in her eyes. It was the exact same look from 16 years ago. Back then, I saw Calum lying on her bed naked. The sight almost drove me crazy. But all she did was pull Calum behind her and allowed me to vent my anger however I pleased. Only when I became tired did she speak up. “Calum and I were just drunk. Nothing happened between us. It’s not what you think.” That face in my memories slowly overlapped with the look on her face right now. She reached out, grabbed my wrist, and slowly rubbed my skin. Her touch gave me goosebumps. “Don’t touch me!” I struggled to break free but couldn’t. “James, you’re the one that I’ve always loved. The only reason I married Calum is help you take care of your family. Calum and I aren’t really a thing…” I sneered and interrupted. “What? Are you taking care of my family in bed? Calum did say before dinner that you had an abortion for him.” Wendy desperately wanted to pull me into her arms. “It’s not what you think, James! I’ve always been waiting for you over the past 15 years. I said I’ll always protect you.” I pushed her away forcefully and took a couple of steps back. “Don’t you find my current state disgusting? Are you planning on dating both Calum and me?” Wendy looked hurt. “James…” “What are you doing?” Calum’s sharp voice echoed in the corridor. He looked infuriated. Our parents stood by him and looked at me with eyes full of disgust. Wendy quickly walked over and wrapped her arms around his to comfort him. Calum suddenly walked up to me and slapped me hard across the face. “James, I’ve brought you home out of kindness. But you start flirting with Wendy as soon as you come back? She’s my wife now! Have you no shame?” I swallowed the blood in my mouth and snorted. “I didn’t do anything.” Seeing that he didn’t believe me, I curved my lips and said meaningfully, “Even if I did do something, I got that from you.” “Back when I first brought Wendy home, didn’t you sneak into her room wearing my pajamas?” Calum loved to take things that I liked ever since we were little. He even tried to flirt with Wendy openly back when I first brought her home. Back then, Wendy chose me and turned him down. Even when our parents were pretending nothing had happened, Wendy still stood firmly by my side. However, it was a pity that Wendy gradually began to favor Calum as well during the three years that we were married. My father slapped me hard across the face. “Why are you still talking about such nonsense? Even Wendy said that it was a misunderstanding. Why do you keep bringing it up?” My mother hugged Calum to comfort him. She then complained to Wendy, “He’s a murderer. Can’t you just give him some money and send him off? Why did you have to bring him home and cause all this chaos?” I covered my face and chuckled. My voice was hoarse. “Murderer? But I’m not the one who’s murdered someone.”

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To control my father and brother’s power, the Alpha King forced me into an arranged mating with his son, Kael , a wolf I’d never even met. On our mating day, Kael’s mistress, an omega named Ivy blocked my procession. “Do you think you can steal someone’s mate just because your family’s power?” “Kael and I already pledged ourselves to each other. If the Iron-Claw Pack hadn’t used their power, I would be his mate.” “If you have any shame, reject this bond yourself. Don’t take what’s mine.” My brother snarled. “If my sister doesn’t want this union, no one can force her.” I looked at all the gifts the Alpha King sent and smiled. “Brother, I have the Iron-Claw Pack’s forty thousand warriors behind me. Who could possibly make me suffer?” “As long as I don’t suffer, they’re the ones who will.” After all, my father is the Alpha of Iron-Claw pack, the strongest pack in existence. Anyone who wants to bully me better check if our pack allows it first. “You stole my mate. How can you enter the Royal Palace without any guilt?” On my mating ceremony, someone blocked my path. Through the veil, I saw Ivy, an omega. Ivy’s eyes filled with tears as she cried loudly, “Can the Iron-Claw Pack abuse their power like this and steal someone’s mate?” “If not for you, Kael was supposed to choose me.” The wolves gathered to watch the ceremony whispered among themselves: “What’s happening?” “You don’t know? Prince Kael’s love for that omega isn’t a secret. The Queen Luna just thinks she is too weak and won’t let her son take her as mate.” Kael shifted from his wolf form and helped Ivy to her feet. “Why torture yourself? I told you I’d give you a position eventually.” Ivy’s eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. “Once your mate enters the territory, pack matters are her domain.” Then she dropped to her knees before me, baring her neck. “Omega Ivy begs you for mercy. Let me and Kael be together. ” “I don’t need a status. I just want to be with the one I love, until we’re old and gray.” Kael’s eyes turned red. He clenched his jaw and looked toward me in the ceremonial procession. “Freya…” Ha. Just a breeder. I spoke clearly. “Miss Ivy is clearly devoted to the Prince. Elder, let her be Prince Kael’s breeder.” The watching wolves erupted. “The Mrs. Freya is so generous, not even angry about this disruption.” “Just a breeder acting so bold.” “She’s shameless, blocking a mating ceremony in public.” Under everyone’s commentary, my grand ceremonial procession entered the Royal Palace with a smaller procession following behind. At my signal, my people spread word throughout the realm about how Ivy blocked the my mating ceremony and demanded to marry Prince Kael. On our first night, Kael entered the chamber and removed my veil. We drank the ceremonial wine. He looked at me. “Ivy was reckless today and disrespected you, but don’t worry. She’s always been gentle and won’t compete with you.” Before he finished speaking, crying echoed from outside. “Prince, Ivy is kneeling outside. She says she wants to apologize to the Mrs. Freya for blocking the ceremony today. She wants to come in and offer her submission.” Kael didn’t even set down his cup—it crashed to the floor. He rushed outside. “Ivy, it’s freezing. What are you doing? Your are still fragile. Someone help her back to her quarters.” I stood and walked to the doorway. Ivy gently pushed Kael away, looking at me with tear-filled eyes. “Mrs. Freya, today was my fault. I disrupted the mating ceremony. Please punish me.” The maid beside her wiped her tears. “Please show mercy, Mrs. Freya. Ivy is weak. She’s been kneeling here since you entered the room. Her body can’t take this.” Kael looked pained and turned to me with displeasure. “Freya, Ivy is begging you. Since you allowed her to be my breeder, you should be more generous. It’s snowing. Making her kneel like this—are you trying to kill her?” “How can my mate be so cruel?” I scoffed. “I heard Prince Kael loves Omega Ivy. Clearly it’s true. Today she blocked my ceremony, and I haven’t punished her yet. Now she’s already causing chaos on our mating night, crying and wailing.” “Is this what you call gentle and well-behaved?” Ivy’s face went pale. The next second, she clutched her chest and collapsed into Kael’s arms. “Prince, I didn’t mean to. I just…” Before finishing, she fainted against his chest. The courtyard erupted into chaos. “Quick, call the healer!” Kael carried her straight to her quarters. In moments, everyone who’d gathered disappeared. My maid gritted her teeth. “Mrs. Freya, that omega did this on purpose.” I smiled. Of course she did. Tonight Kael was supposed to mark me. How could she accept that? Without some tricks, how could she lure him away? The oldest trick in the book, but with a lovesick fool like Kael, it worked perfectly. The ceremonial candles burned out. Kael never returned. But I heard water was called to Ivy’s quarters three times that night. I smiled and picked up the knife from the table, cutting my wrist. Blood sprayed onto the white mating cloth. The servants shrieked. The elder wrapped my wrist with tears in her eyes. “Mrs. Freya, why do this to yourself?” I looked at the cloth with disgust. “When the Queen Luna’s personal servant comes to collect the mating cloth, give her this.” With this much blood, they would understand exactly what happened.

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On what should’ve been our wedding day, my girlfriend, Selena Martinez, kicked me out of the City Hall. Then she walked right back in with her childhood sweetheart. She didn’t even bother looking guilty about it. “Zach’s kid needs a father on paper. Give me a month to divorce him, then I’ll marry you.” Everyone figured I’d wait around like the pathetic simp I was. I mean, I’d already spent seven years waiting for her. But no. That same night, I said yes to the arranged marriage my family had set up overseas. Just like that, I was gone from her life. Three years later, I flew back with my wife, a powerful CEO, Lavinia Sterling, for a family ceremony. She got tied up with work last minute, so she asked the local office to send a driver for me. Didn’t expect to run into Selena after all this time. She took one look at me and said, “Okay, enough drama. Time to come home. Zach’s kid is about to start preschool and someone needs to do pickup.” *** I was walking through arrivals when I saw someone holding up a sign with my name on it. It was Selena. My ex who I hadn’t seen in three years. She had her childhood sweetheart, Zachary Ford, with her, plus a few of her friends, all of them scanning the crowd. One of them nudged Selena. “Hey, isn’t that your little simp Daniel?” Selena looked surprised for half a second, then played it cool. “What’d I tell you? Knew he’d come crawling back eventually.” Her friends all looked at me with teasing smiles. “Well, well, Daniel Montgomery. Ghosted everyone back then, but now that Selena’s loaded, I bet he’s kicking himself every single night!” “Seriously though, if you were gonna pretend to bump into us, you could’ve at least dressed up. What’s with the sweats?” “Wait, can you not even afford real clothes without Selena? Dude, that’s actually sad.” Back when we were together, I never showed up to see Selena without picking out the perfect outfit. Made sure I looked good for her every single time. Now? Why bother? My wife quit wearing business clothes when she got pregnant, so I started dressing for comfort too. These “sweats” they were ragging on? Lavinia had them custom made for me. But now, I realized something. They knew my name, sure. They just had no clue I was the VIP they were supposed to be picking up. When I didn’t say anything, one of my acquaintance from back then tried to smooth things over. “Hey Daniel, good to see you back. You know, Selena’s actually been looking for you this whole time. Asking around about you everywhere.” Selena’s smile went stiff for a second before she recovered, acting all casual. “Anyway, Zach’s kid starts preschool soon. You’ll handle pickup and dropoff.” Same old Selena. Still acting like the world revolved around her. Thing was, I wasn’t that pushover simp anymore. The one who used to put up with her crap. Seeing her again just pissed me off. I didn’t want to waste another second with these people. I was about to tell them who I actually was when Zachary jumped in. “Look, don’t blame Selena, okay? She’s trying to help you out here. You vanished for three years. Who knows what kind of mess you’ve been in?” He looked me up and down. “I mean, just look at you now. You’re obviously broke. Even if she wanted to hook you up with my personal assistant gig, you couldn’t handle it.” “But hey, watching my daughter? Nobody’s gonna judge you for that.” It’s been three years, and Zachary was still the same smug bastard. I couldn’t help but frown in disgust. Selena completely misread my expression and thought I was jealous or something. I could see the smirk in her eyes. “Come on, you clearly couldn’t make it out there. Stop being difficult. Just watch the kid. Quit throwing tantrums and know your place.” “We’ve still got the nanny’s room, so don’t worry about that.” Everyone around us started snickering. “See, Daniel? Selena’s looking out for you. She knows you’re struggling, so she’s got you set up with room and board.” “All you gotta do is babysit Zach’s kid. Way better than whatever sad life you’re living now, right? Hurry up and thank her.” Zachary glanced at his watch with obvious pretense. “Don’t worry, Daniel. If my daughter gives you any trouble, I’ll discipline her myself. I’ll make sure you’re treated well.” Selena let out a cold laugh and glanced my way. “What’s he got to complain about? He ran off over some petty issue years ago. Now he’s back because he couldn’t cut it out there. A little suffering will do him good.” My heart stopped for a second when I heard that. After all this time, she still thought marrying Zachary was just some minor issue? The Selena who used to love me was long gone. She wasn’t that girl anymore. The one who dragged me across half the city to find a doctor, crying the whole way even though she was the one covered in bruises. The one who had absolutely nothing but swore she’d love me forever. The successful woman who still wanted to come home and cook for me. Whatever. It was all ancient history now. Besides, my wife was already pregnant with our second kid.

I pushed those thoughts away. No point getting into it with them here. “You’re supposed to pick me up, right? Let’s go,” I said, my voice flat. Everyone fell silent for a moment. They all exchanged looks, then burst out laughing. Zachary sneered at me. “Pick YOU up? Yeah right.” He jabbed a finger at the sign. “Read it. We’re here for Lewis. You know who that is?” That was my fake name. Of course I knew. “He’s married to the Sterling family heiress. The guy backing Sterling Group.” “Ms. Sterling’s a total shark in business, but apparently she stayed single for years just waiting for this Lewis.” “Everyone in our circles knows that if you want to impress Ms. Sterling, you go through her husband first. She absolutely spoils him.” I couldn’t help but smile. Three years of marriage and Lavinia’s empire kept expanding. So did her reputation for being obsessed with spoiling me. Zachary never missed a chance to one-up me. He jumped right in, showing off. “Ms. Sterling bought a watch at Christie’s a few years back. Some piece called Eternal Love. Twenty million dollars. She gave it to her husband Lewis as a gift.” “Every guy on the planet wishes they were him.” Then, he froze for a beat and pointed straight at my wrist, his voice shrill. “That’s the one!” The whole group went quiet. Everyone stared at my watch. Selena grabbed my wrist and yanked it up to get a better look. Then she laughed. “Nice knockoff. Which waitress bought you this? Imagine giving someone a fake as a gift.” She sneered. “Trash.” I pulled my hand away and smiled, running my fingers over the watch face. That smile made something flicker in Selena’s eyes. She lunged forward, grabbed my wrist again, and ripped the watch right off. I wasn’t expecting that, so she got it before I could react. Zachary stepped up and took the watch from her, turning it over in his hands. “Actually pretty well made. Better than the fake I bought. Course, I’d never wear mine out in public. Too embarrassing.” He kept examining it. “Foreign knockoffs really are something else though. Feels expensive.” Then he looked up at me with a grin. “Wait. Unless you actually ARE Lewis? The legendary himself?” Everyone burst out laughing. I mean, to them, it was completely ridiculous. Lavinia Sterling was a world-famous financial genius. Cold. Ruthless. Cut-throat in business. And me? Three years ago, I was just some loser hanging around with this exact crowd. The same guy Selena had ditched at the City Hall. No way I was Lavinia’s husband. Zachary spun the watch around his finger. “Hey Daniel, sell me this watch. I’ll pay double.” Worried that he might break the watch, I tried to grab it. “Give it back. That’s from Lavinia—” Before I could finish, Selena’s palm cracked across my face. My head whipped to the side. I tasted copper. “Shut your mouth!”

Selena stared me down, pissed. “Daniel, what makes you think you can just drop Ms. Sterling’s name like that? You trying to get me fired or something?” Her friends all turned on me, looking at me like I was garbage. “Do you have any idea how hard we fought to land this airport pickup?” “Ms. Sterling acquired Selena’s company last year. We all work for her now. The only way Selena keeps her position is by keeping Ms. Sterling’s husband happy.” “And you’re here making up stories about you and Ms. Sterling? You gonna ruin everything for Selene!” I wiped the blood off my lip and slowly met Selena’s eyes. Something in my expression must’ve gotten to her. She frowned. For just a second, I caught a flicker of panic. Zachary saw the way she was looking at me, and his face twisted. He jabbed his finger in my direction. “You ungrateful bastard. Selena’s giving you another shot and this is how you repay her? Don’t push it!” “Look, I get it. You’re bitter. But trashing her reputation just to get back at her? That’s low.” Felt like I’d been transported back three years. Back then, no matter what I did, Zachary always managed to twist the story before Selena heard my side. Selena used to snap at Zachary whenever he screwed up. But then she’d turn around and tear into me instead. Just like now. She looked at me with pure disgust. “Pathetic,” she spat. But this time, she didn’t keep going like she usually did. After a pause, Selena pulled out a check for 200 grand and waved it in my face. “For old times’ sake, I’m not gonna make this difficult for you.” “Take the money. Buy yourself some decent clothes. If you don’t wanna do the whole nanny thing, I’ll hook you up with a real job in a few days.” “Don’t worry about it. Ever since Ms. Sterling bought out the company, this is pocket change to me.” The way she looked down at me made me sick. Guess things have been going pretty well for her lately. While everyone stared, I pushed her hand away and took my watch back from Zachary. “No thanks, Ms. Martinez. I don’t take handouts from strangers.” I smiled.

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My younger sister passed away suddenly. With trembling hands, I called my wife’s assistant. I wanted to withdraw an advance of eighty dollars from the family fund to buy my sister the simplest wooden coffin. On the other end of the line, the assistant let out a mocking laugh. “Mr. Lester, you again? The ten thousand you asked for was just approved last month, and now you’re asking for money again? Do you think Ms. Jackson’s money comes from a random printing press?” “My sister, she…” Before I could finish, my wife interrupted me. “Ross, even wasting money should have its limits. I’ve transferred three million to you in total. Was that still not enough to treat your sister?” My mind went blank. Three million? The funds her assistant approved were at most fifty dollars a month, and in my worst month, only four cents! My heart went completely cold, and I no longer wanted to explain. I numbly put down my phone and got into the Porsche that had been waiting for me outside my home for eight straight months. The woman in the Porsche gave me a faint smile. I gathered my courage and said, “You said that as long as I divorce her, you’ll give me a black card with no spending limit. Is that true?” She looked at me gently. “Of course it’s true, Ross.” She handed me a pitch-black card with no numbers on it. “The password is your birthday.” I took the card. Its icy touch gave my slightly trembling fingers a sense of reality. “I need to take care of my sister’s funeral first.” “I’ll go with you.” The woman gently held my hand, her tone firm. Twenty minutes later, I stood outside my wife Ruby’s office. Even the massive soundproof door couldn’t block the intimate moans echoing from inside. I didn’t hesitate. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my hand and knocked. “Come in.” Ruby’s voice carried a trace of irritation at being disturbed. I pushed the door open. Even though I had prepared myself mentally, the sight still stabbed my eyes. Her assistant, Nick Rogers, was scrambling to stand up from between her legs, pulling up his zipper while smoothing his wrinkled shirt. Ruby’s face was still flushed as she leisurely smoothed down her tight skirt. When she saw me, she frowned. In the past, I would throw a tantrum on every anniversary because she wouldn’t accompany me. This time, she probably thought the same. I steadied my emotions and handed over a document. “Sign it.” Ruby glanced at the cover and sneered, assuming it was another agreement asking for money. “How much do you want this time?” I didn’t speak or beg her to come home like before, so she unexpectedly added a few more words. “Today is our wedding anniversary. I forgot to prepare anything for you. Take this card and buy yourself something.” She tossed over a secondary card. I didn’t take it and simply repeated, “Sign it.” Impatience finally showed on her face. She picked up the document, flipped straight to the last page without reading a word, and signed her name, Ruby Jackson. It ended our ten-year marriage. Watching her finish, my heart felt hollow, yet at the same time, strangely relieved, as if a weight I had carried for years had finally been lifted. So she remembered that today was our anniversary. But she didn’t know that from today on, this date was no longer just our wedding anniversary. It was also the day when my sister Fiona died. Nick had assumed I came to ask for money again, and then he gave a contemptuous sneer. But when he caught the words “Divorce Agreement” on the document, that contempt instantly turned into uncontrollable joy.

I picked up the signed agreement and turned to leave. “I’ll see Ross out.” Nick quickly followed. Once outside the office, he dragged me into a corner of the hallway. His voice was full of flaunting and humiliation. “At least you know what’s good for you.” He pulled out a wad of crumpled bills from his pocket and slapped them hard into my face. “Take the money. Buy a coffin for your dead sister. Consider it my charity.” Dead sister… How dared he mention my sister? The anger I had been holding back finally exploded. I grabbed his collar and smashed my fist straight into his nose. “My sister was only two hundred dollars short of getting surgery!” “Two thousand! Your approvals dragged on for three months! Three whole months! Until she died, it was never approved!” “And in the end, only four cents hit the account! Did you hear that? Four cents!” I went mad, every punch thrown with all my strength. My sister was killed by him. Because the $200 never came through, I panicked and took on food delivery jobs to scrape together the surgery fee. It was him. He used the excuse that I was damaging Ruby’s image and had people lock me up. When I got out, all that awaited me was my sister’s cold corpse. The doctor said that before she died, she kept calling for her brother. She called and called, until her breathing slowly stopped. “Ah!” Nick let out a scream. Blood sprayed all over my faded leather jacket. Hearing the noise, the office door was violently pushed open. It was Ruby. Seeing us fighting against each other, she didn’t hesitate. She aimed straight at my lower back and kicked me hard. Because I had spent years testing medicine and equipment for her, I had a severe lumbar strain. She knew this better than anyone. The searing pain drained all my strength at once, and I collapsed into a curled heap on the floor. “Ross, what the hell are you doing?” Ruby didn’t even look at me. She rushed straight to Nick and wiped the blood from his face with deep concern. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?” I clutched my aching, weakened spine and laughed bitterly inside. The old Ruby would protect me even if I lost a single strand of hair. Now, for a man who wasn’t even scratched, she showed me no mercy. Seeing Nick’s miserable look, she turned around and raised her hand, delivering a loud slap straight across my face. She almost beat me into unconsciousness. My ears rang, and my mouth filled with the taste of blood. Her eyes were full of disappointment. “I gave you plenty of chances. You’re the one who didn’t cherish them.” “Nick, freeze all his funds and change every password to the villa.” “And Ross. Go to the ancestral hall and take thirty lashes of family punishment. Kneel for three days and three nights. When you’ve figured things out, come back and apologize to Nick.” After that, she supported the still-whimpering Nick and left without looking back. I lay on the icy floor and laughed out loud. Froze my funds? What funds did I even have left? The villa? In that villa, aside from a few old clothes she bought me in college, now washed to a pale white. I had nothing valuable. As for the ancestral hall… It was nothing more than a dark room used to punish me. All these years, stepping into her office without permission would earn me ten lashes. If I failed to book a dress that satisfied her, I’d get ten lashes. Even if I went to the hospital to see my critically ill sister, she would punish me with ten lashes, claiming she felt insecure when I stayed with other women… I clenched the warm black card in my pocket and used every ounce of strength to push myself up from the floor. With a leg that felt ready to give out, I hobbled step by step toward the Porsche waiting downstairs. I had money now. I would buy my sister the best coffin in the entire world.

The car door opened. Elsa saw the bruise on my face and the blood on my body, and her eyes immediately reddened. “No one will dare bully you again, not with me around.” Her voice was hoarse. I had once thought that no woman’s words could be trusted. But she took out from a storage box a watch I had lost in high school and a yellowed science notebook. “Do you remember? That girl who hid in the woods crying because she didn’t do well on the exams.” “It was you who comforted me and even gave me your notes, letting me regain confidence.” “This watch… I found it in the cafeteria. I wanted to return it to you, but you transferred to some other school. Then I never saw you again.” “Now, it’s back where it belongs.” Looking at the watch, my eyes suddenly burned. So there was still someone who really cared about me. I said, gripping her hand, “After I finish my sister’s funeral, we’ll get married.” The funeral for my sister was simple but solemn. I used the money Elsa had given me to choose the best grave and the finest shroud for her. Standing in front of the tombstone, I looked at her radiant smile in the photo, and my heart felt shattered. My phone vibrated. It was a screenshot sent by a former colleague who was still somewhat friendly. It was Ruby’s social media post. Beneath the Maldives sunset, Nick had his arm around her waist. Around his neck hung the anniversary necklace I had painstakingly saved for and given to Ruby last year. The caption, written by Nick, said, “Ms. Jackson has been too tired lately. I’ll take good care of her from now on.” In the photo album, there was also a picture of them shirtless, covered only by a thin sheet hiding their private parts. The background was a messy hotel bed. My heart had already shattered the moment my sister passed away. Now, even the last shred of feelings had been burned away. I opened Ruby’s chat with a blank expression, my fingers tapping on the screen. “Ruby, we’re done. From now on, we have nothing to do with each other.” After sending it, I blocked and deleted all her and Nick’s contact information. I want it to be all finished. Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in the Maldives, Ruby, flirting with Nick in the pool, suddenly felt a sharp pain in her chest and an inexplicable panic. She impatiently pushed away Nick, who was trying to get close again, and picked up her phone, almost instinctively opening the chat with me. She wanted to type something but saw a glaring red exclamation mark pop up on the screen. Ruby froze. “Ross had deleted me?” She couldn’t believe it and immediately called my number. “The number you dialed is switched off.” Panic overtook her. She immediately opened all social media platforms, even something that I had long stopped using. Without exception, everything had been blocked. For the first time, I had completely disappeared from her world in such an absolute way. Ruby’s face instantly darkened to an extreme. But she quickly found a reason to convince herself. “Surely it’s because I didn’t accompany him on our anniversary. He’s just jealous.” She muttered to herself, her gaze regaining that high-and-mighty confidence. “Playing hard to get? Amateurish.” She sneered, then expertly opened a luxury goods app and ordered a bunch of things I had once mentioned wanting, but she had never cared about. She also ordered a limited edition supercar I had dreamed of for a long time. “Book the earliest flight back home.” She commanded Nick beside her, a hint of uncontrollable irritation in her tone. She wanted to return and see me kneeling before her, begging for mercy.

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New Year’s Eve. My husband’s junior resident called me at midnight. “Thank you for being so understanding, Mrs. Hayes. If Marcus hadn’t rushed to be with me tonight—if he hadn’t bent the rules to get my mother that kidney—I don’t know how I would’ve survived this.” I froze. The phone felt cold against my ear. “You must be confused. Marcus had an emergency surgery in Boston tonight. He left before we could celebrate New Year’s together.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Besides, he’s always been ethical. He would never break protocol. Not even for you.” Zoey’s voice was confident. Almost smug. “No, Mrs. Hayes. I’m not confused.” “Marcus saw my Instagram story—the one where I was begging for a kidney donor for my mom. He was at the airport. He turned around and came straight to the hospital. Took him less than five minutes to make the call.” The line went dead. I stood there, staring at my phone. That’s when I heard it. Keys turning in the lock. I looked up as my husband walked through the door, still in his coat, his hospital badge clipped to his chest. My voice came out barely above a whisper. “You said… you had a surgery tonight. In Boston.” Marcus froze for two seconds. Just two. Then his shoulders dropped. “I did have plans. But when I saw Zoey’s post about her mother—I couldn’t just leave her.” He paused. His voice got quieter. “The kidney that was supposed to be yours—I redirected it. To Zoey’s mom.” Another pause. “You’re younger. You can wait a little longer.” Tears filled my eyes so fast I couldn’t blink them away. I have Stage 4 kidney cancer. He kowns how rare it is to find a match. He knows I’ve been on the transplant list for three years. When my parents begged him to use his connections as Chief of Nephrology—just once—he’d lectured them about ethics. “Life is equal,” he’d said. “I won’t play favorites. That’s not who I am.” But now? Now he’d stolen MY kidney—the one with MY name on it—and given it to his twenty-four-year-old protégé? It took me a full minute to find my voice. “Marcus. I want a divorce.” My hands were shaking. “And I’m reporting you to the medical board. Tonight.” — I turned toward the door. Marcus grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight. His expression hard. “Sienna. Stop being dramatic.” His voice was cold. Clinical. “I know you’re in pain. I know you’re frustrated. As your husband, I’m more frustrated than you are.” “But Zoey’s mother is seventy-two years old. She’s out of time. Can’t you have a little compassion?” I stared at him like I’d never seen him before. Then I screamed. “She’s out of TIME?! What about me, Marcus?!” My voice cracked, raw and desperate. “I’m on dialysis three times a week! I’m DYING! I have one foot in the grave already!” “Who’s showing me compassion?!” Tears streamed down my face. “You know if I don’t get this surgery soon, I’m going to die!” Marcus frowned, irritation flickering across his face. “Don’t rediculious,You Know I won’t let you die.” His tone was so calm. So controlled. Like I was a hysterical patient he needed to placate. “We’ll get you the next kidney. You just need to be patient.” I felt something inside me die. “Marcus. I’ve been waiting for THREE YEARS.” My voice dropped to something flat. Empty. “When my parents came to you crying—begging you to do something—what did you tell them?” I could still see it. My mother on her knees. My father, a man who’d never asked anyone for anything, breaking down in your office. “You let them kneel on the floor and beg. You didn’t even look at them.” Tears blurred my vision. “You told them they were asking you to compromise your integrity. That ‘all lives are equal.’ That you couldn’t—WOULDN’T—bend the rules.” “You said they were trying to make you into a bad doctor.” My voice shook with rage. “I believed you. I told myself you weren’t heartless—you were just principled. You were a good doctor. I was proud of you.” I stepped closer, my voice rising again. “But Zoey posts one Instagram story and suddenly you can steal a kidney off the transplant list?!” “Where’s your ‘all lives are equal’ speech NOW?!” Marcus looked away. Guilt flickered across his face for half a second. “Zoey and her mother—they only have each other. If her mother dies, Zoey will be completely alone.” He swallowed. “I’m a doctor. I had a moment of… weakness. I couldn’t let that happen.” I felt like I’d been slapped. “So you used my life to save hers?” My whole body was shaking now. “Your ‘moment of weakness’ is going to KILL me, Marcus!” “I’m going to the hospital. Right now. I’m getting my kidney back.” “DON’T.” He slapped me across the face. The force of it whipped my head to the side. Pain exploded across my cheek. I looked at him, my vision blurring. Marcus stared at his own hand, his face pale with shock. “Sienna—I didn’t mean—” He reached for my face. I jerked away from him. I tried to slap him back. But my body gave out. I collapsed. Marcus caught me before I hit the floor, panic flooding his face. “Sienna—Sienna, I’m sorry—” He laid me on the couch, his hands shaking as he fumbled for my medication. That’s when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. And answered immediately. After a few quiet words, his face went grim. “Sienna. Zoey’s mother is having a rejection episode. I need to go. Now.” He grabbed his keys, already halfway to the door. “Stay here. Don’t do anything.” He didn’t even find my pills. The door slammed shut. I was alone. I dragged myself off the couch and crawled to the medicine cabinet. My hands shook so badly I dropped the pill bottle twice. Tears dripped onto the floor. This time, I finally understood. Marcus was never coming back.

Marcus didn’t come home for three days. He didn’t call. Didn’t text. Nothing. But I knew exactly where he was. Because Zoey’s Instagram kept me updated. While I lay in bed, barely able to move, Marcus was spending every night at the hospital with Zoey and her mother. She posted a photo of their hands intertwined. She says,”Because of you, I have the courage to fight fate.” When I forced myself to the kitchen to choke down stale bread, Marcus was taking Zoey to a high-class restaurant. Nine photos. All gourmet dishes. She says,”I mentioned I never went to restaurants as a kid. He said he’d take me to taste the whole world.” When the pain got so bad I was rolling on the floor, biting down screams, Zoey posted pictures from a temple. She say,”He came with me to pray for my mother’s recovery. But I’m more grateful to God for sending me this guardian angel.” That’s when I realized—I’d missed my dialysis appointment. Marcus was too busy with his protégé to remember. I thought about the day he found out about my cancer. His eyes had filled with tears. He’d buried his face in my chest and said, “If you gone,I cannot live alone.” He’d never bent the rules for me. But he’d cared. Or so I thought. He used to remind me to take my pills. Check my vitals. Hold my hand during dialysis. When did it all change? When Zoey showed up. At first, Marcus used to complain about her. “She’s useless. Cries at the drop of a hat. Can’t do anything right.” Then his complaints turned softer. “She only has her mom. She worked her way up from nothing. It’s tough.” Then he started smiling when he talked about her. “My junior resident is kind of clumsy, but she’s got grit.” One night, he looked at me with this distant expression. “You know what I admire most about Zoey? Her vitality. I spend all day around dying patients, and she’s just… alive.” He caught my expression and backtracked. “I’m not talking about you, Sienna. Don’t take it personally.” “Once you get better, you’ll be just like her. Full of life.” But he started coming home later. And later. And then not at all. Always “too busy.” Too busy to celebrate New Year’s with me. But not too busy to steal my kidney for Zoey’s mother. I drifted in and out of consciousness. At some point, I thought I heard Marcus’s voice. Asking if I was okay. But when I opened my eyes, there was a woman standing behind him. This wasn’t a dream. Marcus had come home. And he’d brought Zoey with him.

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