Category: English

I joined a local buy-and-sell group on my phone. Just looking for some secondhand furniture, nothing special. But the prices in this group made no sense. Someone was selling an ordinary iPhone SIM removal tool for $888. And people were actually commenting, asking about it. I was about to leave when a new post caught my eye. “1999 May edition bicycle, $800, pickup only.” My birthday. May 1999. That was odd. I clicked on the photo. My blood ran cold. The background was unmistakably my living room. And we’d only bought that bike two months ago. Before I could process this, someone commented. “Bro, last time was great. The service was top-notch. This $800 price is a steal. Five stars!” The group exploded with questions. “Boss, what are the specs and dimensions?” The seller replied quickly. “90 minutes. 89-58-92.” My hands started shaking. Those were my measurements. My exact measurements. One coincidence I could dismiss. But this? “Damn, that figure!” someone typed. “Bro, got real photos? Can you do delivery?” Then someone posted a picture. A woman in a black and white maid outfit, collapsed on a sofa. She wore a mask, hiding her face. But I recognized the hair color. And that birthmark on her chest. It was identical to mine. I zoomed in, my breathing rapid. The photo disappeared. “Already tried her out for you guys. Boss is reliable You can trust this.” The seller replied casually. “I just got into fishing lately. Not interested in cycling anymore. I’d like to share with my brothers.” I looked at the corner of our living room. Ryan’s collection of secondhand fishing gear, piled high. My stomach churned. Ryan Mitchell, my husband of three years. Always so sunny, so clean-cut. I never imagined he’d do something like this. Drugging his own wife. And selling… photos? Videos? The messages kept rolling. My scalp tingled. My ears rang. These men were discussing me like I was whore. No dignity. No humanity. “Bro, I’ll take it. When can I pick up?” someone finally bid. “Don’t rush. This premium goods is mine. I’ll add $100!” People started competing. The seller grew excited. “Highest bidder wins! I guarantee the quality is top-grade!” Ryan’s disgusting innuendo made the chat explode. I felt like I’d fallen into hell. Cold. Sticky. Nauseating. My hands trembled as I took screenshots. The simple motion took several tries because my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. I was about to confront Ryan when a user named “CatLover” made an offer.

“$10,000. But I need delivery.” The price silenced everyone else. “CatLover” posted an address. “Riverside Apartments.” I was still praying this was all a misunderstanding. Then Ryan texted me. “Honey, I sold our old bike. But the buyer can’t pick up. Can you drop it off at Riverside Apartments this afternoon?” Everything froze. My chest tightened so much I couldn’t breathe. “Do I have to go?” My fingers shook as I typed, hoping Ryan had some shred of conscience left. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Ryan’s reply was as gentle as always. “Are you feeling sick? Should I take you to the doctor?” Ryan and I had been together since high school. Sweethearts who went from prom to wedding vows. Even after marriage, he remained thoughtful and caring. All our friends envied me for marrying my soulmate. But now he wouldn’t give me a straight answer. “I don’t feel well. I don’t want to go,” I refused again. Ryan paused, then replied with words that chilled me to the bone. “Honey, did you catch a cold last night? There’s Vitamin C in the nightstand drawer. Take one.” “I’ll leave work early and go with you.” “Why do I have to go?!” I couldn’t stand this feeling of being hunted. Tears streamed down my face as I typed. Ryan called immediately. “The buyer is an autistic girl. She’s scared of men, so she needs a woman to deliver.” His voice sounded so natural. “You’re usually so compassionate. What’s wrong today?” If I didn’t know the truth, I might have believed him. “I’m not going!” My voice was flat, but my body shook. From anger or fear, I couldn’t tell. Minutes later, the seller @’d “CatLover” in the group. “Bro, sorry. Something’s wrong with the goods today. Can’t do delivery.” I exhaled in relief. Then “CatLover” responded. “No problem. I can pick up.” “But I have… specific requirements. Can she handle it?” The seller replied instantly: “Don’t worry. As long as you don’t break her, I offer after-sales service!” Their words wrapped around me like thorned rope, suffocating me. The seller posted an address. My address. Our home. I had to run. I stumbled out of the bedroom, rushing toward the door. Ryan texted: “Honey, did you take that vitamin?” “I’m almost home to be with you.” I reached for the doorknob. “Honey, where are you going?” The living room camera swiveled toward me. Ryan’s voice came through the speaker. My scalp prickled. Like I was walking down a dark hallway, watched by hungry eyes lurking in the shadows. “Just… getting some air.” I forced myself to stay calm, but my voice trembled. “You sound terrible. Don’t go out. I’ll be right there.” Ryan sounded so concerned. I thought bitterly: no wonder I never suspected him. He was such a good actor. I ignored him and reached for the door again. I needed to leave—to my parents’ house, to the police station, anywhere. “Why do you have to go out?” Ryan sighed. “You’re not well. What if you faint outside? I’d have to search everywhere for you.” “But it’s okay. You gave me access to your phone’s location. I can track you anytime.” His casual words sent ice through my veins. He was telling me he could find me anywhere. I laughed bitterly. Our love and trust had become chains. I glanced at the camera with despair and grabbed the door handle. The moment I touched it, my head spun. My legs gave out. I collapsed.

I woke up in my bedroom. Every muscle ached. My clothes had been changed. Terror gripped me. What happened while I was unconscious? I heard voices outside the door. Ryan was talking to someone. “Alex, you can’t just bring strangers to our house!” Ryan sounded angry. “Emma was home alone. You could’ve scared her!” I was confused. Then I heard Ryan’s brother Alex speak. “Bro, the guy needed the bike urgently. Emma didn’t want to deliver it, so I brought him here to pick it up. How was I supposed to know she was sick?” “And your fishing gear—when are you taking it?” Ryan’s voice rose. “You keep buying useless junk and dumping it at my place because you’re scared your wife will yell at you!” I lay frozen in bed. The bike sale wasn’t Ryan? The fishing gear wasn’t his? Had I been wrong about everything? But that woman in the mask looked exactly like me. Ryan opened the door. He saw me awake and kissed my forehead gently. “Good. Your fever’s gone.” “Silly girl, didn’t even know you were burning up. Still feeling bad?” I glanced at Alex standing in the doorway, his eyes cold and distant. The questions stuck in my throat. I shook my head weakly. Maybe I’d misunderstood. Maybe the seller wasn’t Ryan. At least this time, “CatLover” didn’t get what he wanted. Right?

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619Fi35vozVnP 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni128058”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

After Mom died, Dad couldn’t look at anyone else. He spent his days with Aurelius instead—the Sacred Spirit Wolf, our pack’s guardian sent by the Moon Goddess herself. I thought if I took Aurelius away for a while, Dad might finally move on. So I brought the magnificent golden wolf with me to Seattle for three years of graduate school. When I finally heard Dad had found someone new, I was thrilled. Monica, he said. A sweet omega from one of the smaller packs. She looked a bit like Mom, apparently. I booked the first flight home. The whole pack was gathering at the estate tonight—Dad wanted to introduce Monica to everyone, make it official. I couldn’t wait to meet her. I should have known better. The second I stepped through the door of our old manor with Aurelius at my side, they were waiting. Monica and three of her friends, blocking the entrance like a wall of perfume and barely concealed hostility. I recognized Monica from the photo Dad sent. She did look like Mom—same honey-blonde hair, same delicate features. But where Mom’s eyes had been warm, Monica’s were cold calculation. “Well, well.” Her voice dripped with false sweetness. “The little homewrecker finally shows her face.” I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?” The slap came out of nowhere. My head snapped to the side, cheek exploding in pain. Before I could even process what happened, her foot connected with my stomach. I doubled over, gasping. Aurelius growled low beside me, but I held up a hand. Not yet. “Monica, I think there’s been a misunderstanding—” She grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. “Oh, you think? You think you can seduce my mate and play innocent?” Her nails dug into my scalp as she shook me violently. “Silas is MINE. The whole pack is gathering tonight to meet me—his future Luna. His parents are here, the Council, everyone. And you thought you could just waltz in and steal him?” She slapped me again. And again. Blood filled my mouth. I tried to speak, to explain, but one of her friends stuffed something in my mouth—a sock, rank and disgusting. “Shut up, you little slut.” The redhead sneered. “You think because you’re young and pretty you can steal someone’s mate? Silas loved Monica so much he gave up everything for her. Even stopped visiting this musty old manor.” Monica’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “He only noticed you because you look a bit like me. Don’t feel special, honey. Girls like you? We deal with dozens every year. Silas never cares.” I couldn’t breathe through the gag, couldn’t explain. The panic was setting in. Then I smelled it. Lighter fluid. Monica pulled out a silver lighter, her smile turning deadly. “Let’s see how pretty you are when I’m done with you.”

The flame caught on my shirt instantly. I screamed against the gag as fire raced across my chest, crawling up toward my throat. The heat was unbearable—like my skin was melting off my bones. They held me down as I thrashed, laughing as the flames spread to my hair. “Burn, bitch!” Monica’s voice rang with glee. “Burn!” I couldn’t shift. The smoke, the pain, the shock—my wolf was paralyzed with terror. Then Aurelius moved. The massive golden wolf launched himself from across the room, his sacred aura blazing like sunlight. He landed on top of me, smothering the flames with his thick fur. One powerful swipe of his tail sent two of the women flying into the wall. Their screams filled the manor. “A WOLF!” “WHERE DID IT COME FROM?!” They scattered like frightened mice, tripping over each other in their panic. Aurelius gently nosed the gag from my mouth, his ancient amber eyes filled with concern. Before I could thank him, I saw Monica grab something from the mantle. A crystal decanter. “NO!” I threw myself over Aurelius. The decanter shattered against my skull. Pain exploded through my head, warm blood trickling down my face. Aurelius went very still beneath me. Then he smelled my blood. His eyes flashed gold—not the warm amber I knew, but molten fury. The temperature in the room plummeted as his power filled the space, heavy and ancient and utterly terrifying. Even Monica backed up, fear finally cracking her composure. “You think I’m scared of some mangy wolf?” Her voice shook. But Aurelius wasn’t just any wolf. He was the Moon Goddess’s chosen guardian, blessed with her divine power. He’d saved our pack from the Silver Fire thirty years ago. Predicted the rogue attack that would have wiped us out. Led Dad to the silver mine that made us the wealthiest pack in the Northwest. And right now, he was pissed.

Aurelius stalked toward Monica, each step deliberate and predatory. She stumbled backward, her friends huddling behind her. “Monica, maybe we should go,” one of them whimpered. “You’re supposed to meet Silas’s parents soon anyway. Make a good impression.” “Yeah, and I heard his daughter Elena is coming home from Seattle. They say she adores you, wants to call you Mom at the ceremony.” That made Monica pause, her expression softening into something smug. “You’re right. After tonight, I’ll officially be Luna of the Silver Moon Pack.” She shot me one last venomous look. “You got lucky, homewrecker. But stay away from MY mate.” They turned to leave. Aurelius blocked the door. One flick of his massive tail and it slammed shut, the lock clicking into place. Monica’s face went white. “It—it closed the door. Wolves can’t—” “It’s not natural,” the redhead whispered. Aurelius began to circle them, taking his time. He wasn’t going to hurt them—I knew him well enough. He was just making a point, scaring them a little for what they’d done to me. But then the brunette pulled something from her purse. A small vial filled with silver-white liquid. My blood turned to ice. “No—” She threw it. The liquid hit Aurelius square in the chest. Where it touched, his golden fur turned black, smoking and sizzling like acid on metal. He howled—a sound of pure agony that made my heart shatter. “IT’S WOLFSBANE!” Monica’s voice turned triumphant. “Mixed with silver nitrate! The wolf’s afraid!” Aurelius collapsed, convulsing as the poison spread through his system. His sacred aura flickered and died, leaving him vulnerable and in pain. “Stupid mutt.” Monica advanced, pulling out another vial. “You thought you could protect this whore? I’ll dissolve you.” “DON’T TOUCH HIM!” I finally ripped the gag free, stumbling forward. “Monica, I swear to the Goddess, if you hurt him—” “You’ll what?” She grabbed my hair, slamming my head into the floor. Once. Twice. Three times. Stars exploded across my vision. Blood poured from my nose. “You’re in no position to threaten anyone.” She kicked me in the ribs. “Now tell me—how did Silas afford to buy you this fancy manor? Does he know you’re just using him for his money?” “I’m not—” I spat blood. “I’m his daughter. I’m Elena!” Monica froze for half a second. Then she laughed and stomped on my face. “Nice try, sweetheart. But Elena’s been in Seattle for three years. Why would she come back now?” She pulled out the silver nitrate. “I’m done playing. First the wolf, then you.” Aurelius, even poisoned and dying, tried to protect me one last time. He lunged at Monica’s leg, sinking his teeth into her calf. She screamed. “YOU FUCKING MUTT!” She poured the entire vial over his head. His howl of agony would haunt me forever. The other women joined in, grabbing whatever they could find—vases, fireplace pokers, decorative stones—and beating him while he writhed on the floor. “STOP!” I sobbed. “PLEASE, STOP!” They didn’t stop until he went still. Silent. Dead. Monica turned to me, her smile grotesque. “Your turn.”

The silver nitrate hit my face like liquid fire. I screamed until my throat bled as my skin bubbled and burned, the poison eating through flesh and nerve endings. Red turned to black, black turned to nothing. No feeling. No sensation. I couldn’t even cry—the acid had melted my tear ducts shut. Monica circled me like a predator admiring her kill, phone out, taking photos from different angles. “Perfect,” she murmured. “This’ll remind the next little bitch what happens when you try to steal someone’s mate.” Her phone rang. The ringtone made my stomach drop—Dad’s special one. Her entire demeanor shifted. Voice going soft and sweet. “Hi, baby!” “Where are you?” Even through the speaker, I could hear the warmth in Dad’s voice. The trust. “The pack’s getting restless. Alpha Gregor keeps asking about you.” “I’m so sorry!” She bit her lip, playing the flustered girlfriend perfectly. “I wanted to make something special for tonight. You said Alpha Gregor loves wild game, right? I’ve been preparing this traditional feast—I want him to love me as much as you do.” I could practically hear Dad melting. “That’s so thoughtful, sweetheart. But don’t stress yourself out. Just get here when you can.” “I’ll be there soon. Love you!” She hung up and turned to her friends, the sweet mask dropping instantly. “Where’s the venison you were supposed to get?” The redhead winced. “Monica, I tried, but the hunting grounds are restricted this time of year. Pack rules. If I got caught—” Monica slapped her so hard the crack echoed. “Idiot! Tonight’s the biggest night of my life! Every pack leader in the state is here! How am I supposed to impress them without proper game?” “I told you I needed that meat for the ritual feast!” Ritual feast. That’s what she was planning—the traditional offering a new Luna makes to prove her worth to the pack. A display of strength, skill, and devotion. With wild game she didn’t have. The brunette, seeing an opportunity to get back in Monica’s good graces, pointed at Aurelius’s still form. “What about… that?” Monica followed her gaze. I watched understanding dawn on her face, watched that cruel smile spread. “You’re right.” She grabbed Aurelius by the scruff. “Fresh meat is fresh meat. And wolf is supposed to be a delicacy, isn’t it?” I tried to scream. Tried to move. But my body wouldn’t respond, the silver still coursing through my system. She dragged him toward the kitchen, and I could only watch in helpless horror. The next thirty minutes were torture. The sounds of butchering. The smell of sacred flesh being seared and seasoned. The laughter as Monica and her friends joked about the “exotic game” they were preparing. When she finally emerged, she was carrying an enormous silver platter. Steam rose from the carefully arranged meat, garnished with herbs and vegetables like this was some fancy restaurant dish and not the desecrated body of the Moon Goddess’s chosen guardian. “Gorgeous,” one of her friends breathed. “Girl, you’re going to blow their minds.” Monica beamed. “I know. Alpha Gregor’s going to beg Silas to make me Luna after tasting this.” She glanced at me, taking in my ruined face and broken body. “What should we do with her?” The redhead kicked me lightly. “Kill her? She saw everything.” “No.” Monica’s smile turned wicked. “Bring her. I want her to watch me become Luna. Want her to see exactly who owns Silas now.” They shoved me in a tarp and dragged me to the trunk.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619926pjJ51DQ 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni215105”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

“I’m sorry, Maeve,” my coach said. “But the final roster has been confirmed. There wasn’t a mistake.” I stood outside the office for almost five minutes, staring at the sheet taped to the board. My name was gone. Under the Skating Training Grant, where Maeve Sullivan should have been, was Lyla Voss instead. My first thought was that there was something wrong with the roster. Then I realized Silas did that. When I found him, he was leaning against his car, scrolling through his phone. He saw me but didn’t even straighten up. Just flicked the ash off his cigarette and squinted at me through the smoke. “Lyla’s family is broke,” he said, before I could even open my mouth. “If she doesn’t get the grant, she’s done.” “You’re strong. You can fight your way through Sectionals.” “That grant comes with a full ride to the Olympic Training Center,” I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “You know what that means for me.” “You’ll figure it out.” I stared at him. He was looking everywhere except at my face. Then he sighed, reached into his wallet, and pulled out a black card. He held it out between two fingers like he was tipping a valet. “Fine. Look. I’ll cover your training. Coaches, ice time, gear — all of it. Consider it me buying the spot off you. Are we good now?” The rain started. I looked at the card in his hand. Then at his face. He used to tell me that as long as I trained hard, I could leave my terrible family. And realize my dream of competing in an international skating event. So to get better training, I practiced hard and worked part-time at the skating club in my spare time. But ironically, he was putting a price tag on my dream now. I turned around and started walking. His voice cut across the parking lot, flat and cold. “Are you serious now? You bust your knuckles in that club’s shop. You’ve been hustling for money your whole life.” “I’m handing you more than you’ll ever see, and you want to play noble?” I stopped and turned my head, just enough to see him through the rain. Many years of something I’d thought was untouchable. And it had rotted through all at once. I gave him a small smile. “Sure, Silas. Think whatever you want.” By the time I got back to the skating club’s shop, my phone was buzzing. Bree. “Maeve. Tell me I’m reading the roster wrong. Tell me Lyla’s name is not where yours should be.” “You’re reading it right.” “That’s Silas. That has to be Silas. Did you talk to him?” “I just came from him.” I leaned against the back counter, looking at the row of skates lined up for sharpening. My hands were still wet. “He offered to pay for the rest of my skating career. Said he was buying the spot off me.” The line went quiet for a long beat. “That entitled piece of shit,” Bree said finally. “Tell me you threw it back in his face.” “I walked away.” “Maeve, you have to fight this. That grant is yours. Do you have any idea what you went through to earn it? The all-night training, your dad — ” “It won’t do anything.” “What do you mean it won’t?” “His family, the Kensingtons, endowed the training grant, Bree. They built this rink. If they pull my name once, they’ll pull it again.” She was quiet again. “Oh, I saw Lyla’s Instagram story just now. Silas booked out the whole restaurant to celebrate her nomination. Maeve.” “Fine.” “Fine? That’s it?” “I have to go. Customer just walked in.” I hung up before she could say anything else.

The next morning, I went to the training center to file the Skating Sectionals paperwork. I was halfway down the corridor when I saw them. Silas with Lyla on his arm. Lyla spotted me first. She flinched and ducked behind his shoulder. “Silas, I’m scared.” He stepped in front of her like a wall. “Maeve. Don’t start.” I went to walk around him. He caught my wrist. “What is your problem? Lyla didn’t do anything to you. None of this was her call. Why do you have to make a scene?” I yanked my arm back. “Let me go.” People in the hall were starting to look. Lyla’s eyes filled up right on cue. She slipped out from behind Silas and took a step toward me. “Maeve. I’m so, so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. If you need to hit someone, hit me. I deserve it.” She came closer with her chin raised. Silas grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back against his chest. “Look at her,” he said to me, low and furious. “Look at what you’re doing to her. I never thought you could be this cruel, Maeve.” The whispers started. “That’s her. The skating club’s part-time girl.” “Wait, isn’t she the one who lost the grant?” “Lost it to Lyla, yeah. Honestly, look at her face. Total ice queen. No wonder he got tired.” “Lyla’s literally an angel. I’d pick her too.” I didn’t look at any of them. I kept my eyes on Silas. “I said, let me go.” He didn’t move but shoved me. I stumbled back and hit the row of lockers behind me. My shoulder blades cracked against the metal. I stayed there for a second, my back against the lockers, looking up at him. He was looking right back at me. There was nothing in his face. No flicker. Nothing. We grew up together. He was ten when his family sent him out from New York. His first week in the town, he picked a fight with three older boys behind the rink and was getting his teeth kicked in when I came around the corner. I held up a sharpened blade in my hand. They ran. After that, he followed me everywhere. When a boy at school bullied me, Silas put him on the ground. “Maeve. I’ve got you. Always.” “We’re getting out of this town. Both of us. Training Center, Olympics, the whole thing. You and me.” And now he was in front of me with another girl tucked against his ribs, and he had just put me into a wall. Lyla started to cry harder. “Silas, please, let’s just go. It’s my fault. All of this is my fault.” He turned his head and kissed her hair. “It’s not your fault. None of it is.” He gave me one last look — a warning, and walked her past me down the hall. I stayed against the lockers until I could breathe again. The office was at the end of the corridor. On the way I passed the Featured Athletes wall. Lyla’s photo was right in the center, bigger than the others. Underneath, in clean black letters: Promising young talent overcoming hardship. A story of resilience. I looked at it for a second and laughed bitterly. I remembered one night, I came back to the skate shop after a late training session. My dad was waiting in the parking lot. He smelled like whiskey from ten feet away. “Where’s the money?” I didn’t answer. I tried to walk past him to the door. He grabbed my hair and slammed me face-first into the side of the building. “I’m talking to you. Are you deaf in both ears now?” “There isn’t any money.” “Bullshit. That Kensington kid throws cash around like it’s nothing, and you’re up his ass twenty-four seven. You telling me you can’t squeeze a few hundred out of him for your old man?” He hit me across the face. “You holding out on me? Hiding it somewhere? Huh?” He started patting me down, yanking at my pockets. I shoved him off. That was the wrong move. He kicked me in the stomach so hard I went down on the asphalt. “You ungrateful bitch. You’re just like your mother. Trash, both of you.” He went looking for something heavier. A tire iron, a piece of pipe, I didn’t see what. That was when Silas’s car pulled into the lot. He was out before the engine stopped. He put my dad on the ground in two moves and pulled me up off the asphalt. His hands went over my face, my arms, my ribs, checking. “Where did he hit you. Maeve. Where.” I couldn’t answer. He took off his own jacket and put it around my shoulders. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He didn’t go home that night. He sat on the busted couch in the back of the shop until morning. The next day he walked into the police station and didn’t leave until they had my dad in a holding cell. When he came back, he sat down next to me and said, “I’m taking care of you from now on. You don’t have to worry about anything. Ever.” I’d actually believed him.

A week before Sectionals, our club ran a final mock competition. Full panel of judges, full scoring, the works. I took first. Highest combined score in the group field by almost twelve points. Lyla came in last. She picked the score sheet off the boards, balled it up, and tossed it into the trash on her way off the ice. “Doesn’t matter. I got the training grant.” Silas was waiting at the boards with two coffees. He handed her one. She lit up at him like she hadn’t just bombed in front of the club. “You were beautiful.” She pressed up onto her toe picks and kissed him on the cheek. I walked past them toward the locker room. “Maeve.” I did not stop. “Maeve. Hey.” He came around in front of me, blocking the path. “You still mad about the training grant?” I didn’t answer. “I get it. But come on. Look at her situation. She needs this more than you do. You’re going to win Sectionals in your sleep.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “That card I offered you. It’s still on the table. Anything you need — coaches, off-season camps… It’s covered.” He thought money was the answer. He thought money could buy back what he’d already broken. “I don’t need it.” “There you go again.” His jaw set. “How long are you going to keep doing this. You know how much you make in a month? I’m offering you more than you could pull out of that place in your entire life.” Lyla skated up behind him and put a gloved hand on his arm. “Silas, don’t. She’s just not used to it yet.” She gave me a small, sad, practiced smile. “Maeve. I know you hate me right now. But I was really, truly out of options. My stepmom has been awful since my dad lost everything. I had nowhere else to turn.” Her eyes welled up. I’d watched her do it for a year now. In every conversation, she was the victim. In every room, I was the one making her cry. “Silas said he’s going to take care of you,” she went on, with the soft, generous tone. “Whatever you need, just tell us. Both of us.” Us. Like she’d already moved into my life. The corner of my mouth pulled up. I couldn’t help it. Silas frowned. “What’s funny?” “Nothing. Just appreciating the matchup. You two deserve each other. Hope it lasts.” His face changed. “Maeve — ” I walked past him to the locker room. “Maeve, get back here.” I ignored all his words. That night, Bree sent me a photo. Lyla’s Instagram, screenshotted before it could disappear. Lyla and Silas were in the bar, Silas holding a bottle of champagne, Lyla draped across his lap. Their friends were in the background, raising glasses, shouting “CONGRATS LYLA!” Bree: Stop looking at it. She’s not worth your serotonin. I closed the app and tossed the phone aside. Then picked up my training journal off the nightstand, opened it to the next blank page, and started writing out my Sectionals program. As long as I kept training, I didn’t have to think about anything else.

A week before Sectionals, the club cut training to taper hours. Most of the teammates took the time off to rest. I took extra shifts at the skating club’s shop. Wednesday afternoon, Silas’s car pulled up outside. He got out and leaned against the driver’s door. Music thumping from the speakers, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. “Maeve. Come here.” I kept working, ignoring his words. “I’m talking to you.” He frowned and walked over. He reached for my arm, saw the dirt on my hands, and pulled his fingers back without touching me. “Go wash up. You’re coming with us.” “Where?” “Cabin. Up the mountain. Lyla wants a few days off the ice. You’re coming.” I straightened up. “I’m not going.” “Don’t start with this again.” He let out a sharp breath. “I drove all the way down here. Lyla wants to make peace. Don’t be difficult.” “I have nothing to make peace about with her.” “Maeve.” “I’m training.” He laughed, short and ugly. “Training. Right. Like you need to. You could skate Sectionals hungover and still take the podium.” “Just come. Get out of this dump for a weekend. Lyla actually wants to fix things with you.” “I’m not going.” His patience snapped. He stared at me for a second. Then he laughed again, this time with no humor in it at all. “Suit yourself.” He pulled his wallet out, thumbed off a stack of hundreds, and threw them on the floor at my feet. The bills fanned out across the concrete. “Here. Your wages for the month. I covered your boss for it. Take the money, keep your pride, and stay out of my face.” I didn’t move. “Not enough?” He pulled out another stack and threw it down on top of the first. “How about now?” Coach Miller came out from the back office, took one look at the cash on the floor, and walked over fast. “Mr. Kensington. What is going on here? We don’t need any of this.” Silas didn’t even look at him. His eyes stayed on me. “Pick it up.” I still didn’t move. Lyla had been waiting in the car. She got out now, all wide eyes, and came running over in her white shearling boots. “Silas, please, stop. You’re scaring her.” She crouched down and started gathering up the bills, one by one. “Maeve. Don’t be mad at him. He’s just looking out for me. He doesn’t mean it.” She held the stack up to me with both hands, eyes wet. “Please. Just come with us. I don’t want to be the reason you two aren’t talking.” I looked at her and Silas. He wasn’t sorry. He thought he was being generous, so I should be on my knees thanking him. I walked past both of them, into the back of the shop, and shut the door. Through the wall I heard him. “See? That attitude. You try to help her and that’s what you get.” The car engine started up. The music pulled away down the street. Coach Miller came in a minute later. He set the stack of cash down on the workbench in front of me. “Take it, kid.” “No.” “Maeve.” He pushed it closer. “Your dad. Your situation. You need this.” I stared at the bills. They smelled like Silas’s cologne. I walked to the utility sink in the corner, turned the water on as hot as it would go, and started washing my hands. Soap, scrub, rinse. I kept going until my skin was raw. That night, my dad came back. He was drunker than usual, and he’d seen the cash through the front window. He took it, then he started taking everything else. Even put a chair through the front glass. I called the cops. When they got there, he was still going, swinging a hockey stick at the lights. It took two officers to put him in cuffs. He spat at me on the way out, blood and saliva down the front of my work shirt. “You called the cops on me. On your own father. I hope you know what you are. I hope you rot in hell for this.” I watched the cruiser pull out of the lot. So this was what it felt like. To have nobody left around me.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619BbBn6jEmdw 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni100788”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

My mate killed my pup to protect an Omega; now he’s begging for a single glance from the Luna he rejected. I came home to find the packhouse locked. Kaelen wasn’t back yet, so I waited outside in the snow. Two hours later his black SUV finally rolled up the drive. He climbed out looking apologetic and unlocked the front door. “One of the pack members was sick. I drove her to the healers’ ward first.” “Sure. Health comes first.” I stepped past his hand and walked inside. There were plenty of shewolves in Kaelen’s pack, but only one could make him drop everything and come running. Cynthia. A soft-spoken Omega with doe eyes and a gift for making every Alpha in the room feel like her personal protector. I’d fought with him about her before. Screamed at him. Let Ember, my Wolf, claw to the surface. Nearly got thrown in the dungeon for it. Then came the fight that killed our pup. I’d gone to find him at the pack hall, pregnant and happy, and walked in on Cynthia sobbing into his shoulder. Ember surged forward. My vision went gold. I shoved Cynthia away from him. One push and she went flying. Kaelen’s eyes went pitch black. Kruger, his Wolf, exploded out of him. Before I could even flinch, he lunged at me in half-shift and sent me crashing sideways. My belly hit the corner of the stone table. The pup was gone before I hit the ground. After that he seemed to wake up. He knelt at my bedside and swore on the Moon Goddess he’d keep Cynthia away, move her to a room on the far end of the compound with the other Omegas. No more contact. Now he watched me brush snow off my coat. His brows pulled together. “Elena, you’re not going to ask which pack member?” I looked at the red creeping into the corners of his eyes. And smiled. “Doesn’t matter who.” Because I didn’t care anymore. … Kaelen stood frozen in the doorway, rubbing his nose. “Cynthia’s place doesn’t have heat. She came down with a fever, a bad one. Nobody would help her.” He sighed. “You know how it is. After you made that scene, the whole pack turned on her. They call her a mate-betrayer behind her back. Even the other Omegas won’t sit with her.” “Helping her out was me cleaning up your mess.” The memory scraped at the old wound in my chest. The aftermath of that fight had been loud. Within days the entire pack knew what happened. Most of them sided with me. Behind closed doors they called Cynthia what she was. The shewolves in her circle froze her out, moved her to the worst room in the compound. I nodded and kept walking toward the bedroom. Kaelen’s voice sharpened. “Cynthia’s already forgiven you. Can’t you just move forward?” My feet stopped. My hand pressed flat against my stomach. “Sure.” I looked him dead in the eye. “When the pup comes back.” Kaelen went rigid. The light drained from his face. I didn’t wait. I walked to the bedroom. Since losing the pup we hadn’t shared a room in months. But the moment I pushed open the door, I froze. Dresses tossed across the bed. A bundle of belongings on the floor, piled halfway to my hip. Kaelen caught up and draped his arm across my shoulders, trying to play it casual. “Cynthia’s fever is bad. She shouldn’t be alone. I told her she could stay here a few days.” I stared at the bundle. A few days. And she packed half her life for it. “Besides, we’re mates. Sleeping in separate rooms isn’t right.” He squeezed my shoulder. “You still want a pup, don’t you? We can try again. Tonight.” I’d already been gutted by this man in every way that mattered. But hearing him dangle a pup like bait to keep his Luna in line still turned my stomach. “Kaelen, how about this. I move into your room, and you pick a different bed each night. Me or her. Whoever you’re in the mood for. Sound fair?” His face flushed. “What the hell are you saying?” “Luna, please don’t fight with Alpha Kaelen because of me. I’ll leave right now.” I turned around. Cynthia stood in the doorway, doe-eyed and trembling. Scarf on. Gloves on. Not a snowflake on her. Not a trace of the blizzard outside. It hit me all at once. While I’d been standing in the snow for two hours with my legs going numb, the two of them had been sitting in that heated SUV working out how to handle me. I was done talking. I shouldered past Kaelen, yanked open the closet, and shoved my few worn clothes into a bag. He was at my side in two steps, his hand locked around my wrist. “What are you doing now?” “It’s the middle of winter. You have a perfectly good house and you want to leave? The rest of the pack will talk.” “Do you have to make everything worse?” I shook his hand off and zipped the bag. “A house?” I said. “I don’t have a house. This one is yours and hers.” I grabbed the bag and shoved past him toward the front door. Behind me, Cynthia’s voice drifted out, soft and shaking, perfectly pitched. “Alpha Kaelen, she’s just jealous. I should go. It’s only a fever, I can take care of myself.” “Let her go. She gets more impossible every day.” “You stay right here. I’ll make you some soup later.” The wind hit my face. The tears that slipped out froze before they reached my jaw. The night I lost the pup, he’d made me soup too. So in his mind, a dead pup and a fever weighed exactly the same.

The blizzard was brutal. I fell several times on the way, but I finally made it to the old place I’d stayed before Kaelen and I were mated. The door creaked open and the smell of mold hit me in the face. I pulled the light cord a few times. The bulb flickered once and went dead. I sighed, dragged a stool over, and tried to fix the wiring. A flashlight beam swept in through the doorway. Doctor Julian from next door was standing there, eyes wide. “Luna Elena? Is that really you? I heard noise coming from over here.” He took one look at me and seemed to guess I wasn’t in the mood to talk. He didn’t ask questions. He just pushed the flashlight into my hand. “I’ve got a spare bulb. Let me put it in for you.” He grabbed a wooden chair, climbed up, and started screwing it in, chatting to fill the silence. “Hell of a storm tonight. Have you eaten? I’ve got fresh soup at my place.” “You lost the pup not long ago, and now you’ve been out in this cold. A warm bowl would do you good.” My eyes stung. I almost cried right there. A pack doctor I barely knew remembered what my body had been through. My own mate just thought I wasn’t forgiving enough. “No thanks. I already ate.” The bulb clicked on. Julian steadied himself on the chair and climbed down. The old wood groaned under him. I rushed forward to hold the chair steady. Then I heard a gasp behind me. “Luna, you left home in such a hurry and it was for him?” Cynthia stood in the doorway with three of the pack’s biggest gossips behind her. She pressed a hand over her mouth, looking back and forth between me and Julian. “Alone together with the lights out. In the middle of the night.” The three women exchanged looks, muttering just loud enough to hear. “Betraying her Alpha. Right under his nose.” “And I thought she was the decent one. Guess not.” Julian’s face went red. He jumped down from the chair. “Don’t twist this. Luna Elena just got here. I saw the lights were out, so I came over to change a bulb. That’s it.” Cynthia raised her voice even louder. “So the lights were out and you were already in here with her?” “Luna, how could you do this to Alpha Kaelen?” “Bullshit.” I grabbed Cynthia’s wrist and yanked her to the door. “Look. Door’s wide open. Key’s still in the lock. Say one more word and I’ll slap the taste out of your mouth.” Cynthia blinked. Then the tears dropped, right on cue. That two-faced act made Ember snarl inside my skull. I was about to keep going when a massive hand clamped down on my shoulder and wrenched me back. “Elena, so this is why you wanted separate rooms? For this pretty boy?” Julian saw Kaelen and stepped forward immediately. “Alpha Kaelen, it’s not what you think.” Kaelen turned and glared at him. “Shut your mouth. You’re a doctor. You should know better. I haven’t even begun dealing with you.” He swung back to me, disgust clear on his face. “Elena, you’d throw away your honor just to spite me?” “I thought you were just throwing a tantrum.” “But you couldn’t even wait one night before running to another wolf.” “This isn’t just about me. You’ve disgraced the entire pack.” I almost laughed. I stood near another male for two minutes and suddenly I’d betrayed my Alpha and disgraced the pack. But Cynthia could cry on his shoulder for months and that was a misunderstanding. I looked at him, cold and steady, one word at a time. “I have nothing to hide.” “The door is open. My bag is still packed. The flashlight is still on.” “Ask the gate guard what time I got here and you’ll have your answer.” Kaelen paused. His eyes drifted to the bag on the floor. Then he looked around the room. The cobwebs. The dust. The bed frame made of stacked bricks. Something in his expression cracked. He was almost swayed. But Cynthia grabbed his sleeve, sniffling. “Alpha Kaelen, after what Luna did to me last time, people still point at me and call me names.” More tears, right on the edge of falling. Kaelen looked at me. Then at Cynthia. Something hardened in his jaw. “Call the enforcers.” “Lock her in the dungeon. We’ll sort this out in the morning.” Three enforcers rushed in and surrounded me. My head was spinning. “Kaelen, are you insane? You can see there’s nothing between me and Julian.” Kaelen sighed. “Elena, I’m doing this for your own good.” He waved his hand. The enforcers grabbed me by the arms and dragged me into the dungeon. Four concrete walls. Cold enough to see my breath. I curled up in the corner. The old ache in my belly started up again.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/2026061912QRanIGk0 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni934576”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

Two years overseas, and I flew back to San Francisco for the product launch. The moment I stepped on stage, a seven-year-old boy threw a bucket of dirty mop water all over my Tom Ford suit. “Get off the stage! My dad designed this!” “Mommy, this bad man is trying to steal Daddy’s credit. Did I do good?” I froze, trying to figure out whose brat this was. Then my wife Chloe scooped the boy into her arms, her face glowing with affection I’d never seen before. “Mason, you’re amazing. That’s exactly how we deal with thieves.” She turned to face me, her eyes ice-cold. “Liam, Blake handled all the company business while you were gone. The credit belongs to him.” I laughed. Right there, in front of five hundred investors and tech journalists, I announced my resignation. Let’s see how they develop products without my family’s investment firm backing them. … “Blake carried this company for two years while this guy lived it up overseas.” “Now the product’s ready and he flies back to take credit? Shameless!” “The kid did the right thing. Pour it on him!” “Disgusting.” I looked up at Chloe, waiting. Waiting for her eyes to meet mine, for even a flicker of hesitation, a word of defense. But Chloe acted like she didn’t hear the vicious accusations. She kept adjusting Mason’s collar, tender and gentle. Since when did she like kids? Five years of marriage. Every time I mentioned having children, she’d wrinkle her nose and say her career came first. Kids were loud, messy, inconvenient. I respected that. Never pushed. I thought she genuinely didn’t want them. I’d even prepared myself for a childfree life. But now, watching her hold another man’s son—the movements so natural, so practiced— Two years. I’d been gone two whole years. To secure overseas channels and lock down critical partnerships, I’d drunk myself into the hospital three times with a bleeding ulcer. To beat our competitors to market, I’d flown to twenty-six countries, answering emails at 35,000 feet like it was normal. Once, I worked for thirty straight hours on connecting flights. When I landed, my vision went black. My assistant had to carry me to the ER for IV fluids. Mason tilted his cherubic face up at Chloe, his voice saccharine: “Mommy, why is the bad man still here? He smells gross!” He pointed at my soaked suit with theatrical disgust. Chloe’s smile deepened. She pulled out a tissue and wiped a water droplet from Mason’s cheek, then kissed him loudly on his soft little face. “Baby, ignore him. Let’s listen to Daddy talk.” She carried the boy over to Blake, who’d just walked onto the stage. Blake slid his arm around Chloe’s shoulders. His other hand ruffled Mason’s hair affectionately. “Everyone, please—let me say something!” He sighed, perfectly calibrated. “This project represents everyone’s blood, sweat, and tears. Seeing our work questioned, of course emotions run high.” “Mr. Sterling was once part of the team. Though he spent the last two years abroad, he may not fully understand the depth of everyone’s contributions.” “I get it. He was involved in the early stages, after all.” “Mason’s young and doesn’t know better. I hope Mr. Sterling won’t take it personally.” He paused, gazing at Chloe with practiced devotion. “And thank you, Chloe, for believing in me. For walking this road with me to the end.” A perfect family. Pressed together on stage in front of everyone. Blake’s words sounded supportive, but every sentence accused me of stealing credit. The crowd erupted in admiration. “Blake’s living the dream—success at work AND at home!” “Chloe and Blake are perfect together. And their son is so smart!” “That’s what a real family looks like. Through thick and thin!” Someone in the back yelled: “Get that thief out of here! Don’t let him ruin our launch!” A wave of agreement. Voices demanding I leave. Through the “Get out!” chants, I looked at Chloe one last time. She leaned into Blake’s side, didn’t even glance my way. My heart turned to ice. The anger evaporated. I pulled out my phone and submitted my resignation through the company app. I was done with this place. Watching the employees who used to kiss my ass now turn on me like rabid dogs—it was almost funny. The things people will do. I drove home, needing silence. In the living room, our wedding portrait was gone from the wall. In its place: a massive “family photo.” Blake holding Mason. Chloe leaning on Blake’s shoulder. All three of them smiling like they’d won the lottery. I pushed open the master bedroom door. My things were gone. Blake’s suits hung in the closet. Children’s books and Chloe’s skincare products covered the desk. On the nightstand, our wedding photo had been replaced by a picture of Chloe and Mason. My clothes, my photos—everything shoved into the storage closet. While I was overseas killing myself to provide, my home had become someone else’s home. I sat on the couch and smoked. One cigarette after another, until the ashtray overflowed. Chloe finally came home.

I checked my watch. 2:00 AM. “You’re… back?” Her voice softened. “The launch ran late. Have you eaten? I’ll make you some pasta.” I didn’t respond. Just stared at her coldly. She avoided my eyes, glancing at the family portrait on the wall, then at the wedding photo I’d pulled from storage. Awkward. She stepped closer, reaching for my hand. I jerked away. “Honey…” She lowered herself, trying appeasement. “Mason’s little. He doesn’t understand. Don’t blame him. And Blake… he’s been under so much pressure.” “Pressure?” Was my life easy? “He’s raising Mason alone while running the company… Blake’s applying for that international design certification. I wanted to help where I could.” “And Mason’s such a sweet kid. I made him my godson. It’s not what you think…” She paused, reading my face. Her voice went soft, coaxing. “I know you’re upset. People said awful things today. Blake’s presentation wasn’t great. But he never meant to steal your credit.” She moved closer again, her tone saccharine like she was soothing a child. “Don’t be mad, honey. Once Blake gets his certification and the launch buzz dies down, I’ll find a chance to explain everything to the team.” Watching her grovel, hearing her honeyed explanations—I had to admit, part of me wanted to believe her. Then I remembered the family portrait. My belongings erased from our home. That urge died instantly. “Explain?” My voice came out hoarse. “Explain how I became a stranger in my own house?” Chloe’s face went white. She opened her mouth to defend herself. “It’s not—” “Enough!” I cut her off. Suddenly, Chloe gasped and bent over, clutching her stomach. The color drained from her face. Her brow furrowed in pain. Blood bloomed across the couch cushion. “Ah… it hurts…” Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. Her body trembled. It looked real. My heart clenched despite everything. All my anger evaporated in the face of her sudden agony. “My stomach… hurts so much…” She leaned against me, voice weak and breaking. “I think… it’s my period…” Furious and panicked, I half-carried her toward the door. “Can you walk? I’m taking you to the hospital!” “Yeah…” She nodded weakly, practically hanging off me. I floored it the entire way. Every time I glanced over, she was curled in the passenger seat, eyes closed, hand pressed to her stomach. Blood soaking through her clothes. My chest knotted up. At the hospital, they wouldn’t let me into the gynecology exam room. I waited outside. An hour later, my wife emerged. She looked slightly better. I handed her a cup of hot water. “Rest. Tell me if you need anything.” She nodded, taking the cup. Her eyes darted away. Her phone rang. She checked the screen. Her expression shifted. “Honey, there’s an emergency at the office. I have to go handle it right now.” I frowned. What emergency happens at 3 AM? But looking at her face, I sighed. “I’ll drive you.” I dropped her at the office tower and watched her hurry inside before driving home. Back at the house, I parked and sat in the car, exhausted, rubbing my temples. Something caught my eye under the passenger seat. A medical report. I picked it up, frowning. It listed vaginal bleeding. When I saw the cause—”condom retained internally”—my brain went blank. Like I’d been struck by lightning. I sat there, the air suffocating. I’d been gone two years. Whose condom was it? I couldn’t process it. Couldn’t understand how my loving wife had become this. I drove back to the office. The top floor—the CEO’s office—had its lights on. Through the privacy glass, I could see two silhouettes. Couldn’t make out details. Thankfully, my fingerprint still worked on the elevator. I went up. Before I even reached the CEO’s office, I heard the sounds. Rhythmic. Unmistakable. Through the office glass, I saw Chloe half-lying across the wide desk. Blake leaned over her, both of them disheveled. Chloe’s breathy moans mixed with Blake’s heavy panting, echoing in the office. “Ah… Blake… not so hard… it hurts…” Chloe’s voice. “Mmm… Mason’s still home waiting… ah!” “Let him wait!” Blake’s breathing was ragged. “That little brat’s asleep by now! You should be worried about Liam!” “Ugh… don’t… don’t mention him…” Chloe’s voice grew more urgent. “That useless piece of shit… gone for two years and comes back causing problems. What the hell is he anyway…” Blake let out a contemptuous laugh. “Soon the money’s mine. The company’s ours. Even his wife… is mine now!” “Stop…” Chloe giggled coquettishly. The obscene words and flesh-on-flesh sounds kept assaulting my ears. This was the woman who almost made me soften. Straight from the hospital to her lover’s bed. Chloe. You couldn’t even wait. The last shred of feeling I had for her died.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619j699vzITfQ 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni629575”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

I was the real daughter. The true bloodline of Blackwood Pack, finally brought home. But the second I stepped through the door, the fake one threw herself into my parents’ arms, sobbing. “Dad, Mom, I’m sorry—I just can’t call her my sister. She’s the one from school. She told everyone my parents were just Omegas. She said my bloodline was dirt. She said it to my face, in front of everyone. And then she let her wolf loose on mine. My wolf hasn’t come out since. She won’t even respond to me anymore.” Mom held her tight, stroking her back, murmuring soft things. Dad turned to me. A low growl rumbled in his chest. His eyes were nothing but disappointment. “I can’t believe a few years outside this Pack turned you into this.” “Steward—get her out of my packhouse. Blackwood has no daughter who would attack other’s wolf.” I stood there, completely blindsided. My hands flew through the signs so fast they blurred. I bullied her? I’m mute. I don’t even have a wolf. How could I have done any of that? I stood in the front hall. Fingertips still cold from outside. Victoria was draped over my parents, crying so hard she could barely breathe. Her face was buried against my mother’s neck. Her shoulders trembled violently. When she finally looked up, the rims of her eyes were raw and red. “Dad, Mom, you don’t know what it’s been like.” “After the last trial, I placed second among all the young wolves. She went around telling everyone I cheated—that Dad threaten the teachers. That I slept with Xavier to secure my ranking—things I can’t even say—” With every sentence, Mom’s hand patted harder against her back. Dad’s jaw clenched tighter. I opened my mouth. Only air came out. I hadn’t spoken a word since I could remember. The healers said something broke in my throat at birth and never healed. My wolf never came either. No voice. No wolf. Just silence. Over the years, I’d gotten used to it. Sign language. Paper and pen. That was how I talked to the world. I raised my hand. My fingers barely started forming the sign for “no” before Xavier launched off the couch. Three strides and he was in my face, towering over me. The disgust in his eyes was barely contained. “Seraphina, how long are you going to keep this shit up? Victoria’s wolf won’t even surface anymore because of you. And you’re still standing there trying to deny it?” I froze. My hand hung in the air. Xavier was Blackwood’s only son. From the moment I walked in, he’d been glued to Victoria’s side—soft eyes, gentle voice, like she was something precious. When he looked at me, it was like looking at something scraped off his boot. “Brother, don’t say that to her…” Victoria tugged gently at Xavier’s sleeve. Her voice was soft as water. But every word drove a blade into my chest. “Maybe she just wanted so badly to fit in. Maybe this was the only way she knew how. I don’t blame her. Really, I don’t…” “That’s because you’re too damn soft!” Mom pulled Victoria tighter. When she turned to me, her eyes could have frozen the room. “Seraphina, we brought you home to give you a Pack. A family. Not so you could terrorize someone weaker. Whatever gutter tricks you learned out there—you drop them. Now.” Dad slammed his knuckles on the oak table. The whole thing shuddered. A vein pulsed at his temple. “Any daughter of mine—even one raised outside these walls—should know what honor means. And what do you do? You walk through the door and hurt Victoria’s wolf. You’ve shamed this entire Pack.” The servants huddled near the archway, not even bothering to keep their voices down. “Heard she grew up out by the borders. Ran with the Rogues. No wonder she’s rotten inside.” “Victoria is the sweetest shewolf in the whole pack. Who would do that to her?” “Look at her, waving her hands around like that. Bet she’s faking it. Playing the poor little thing so someone takes pity.” Those whispers needled into my ears like pins. I drew a deep breath. Forced myself steady. Reached for the side pocket of my bag. I had a notebook in there—from the academy. I could write it all down. Explain everything. My fingers barely touched the zipper when Xavier grabbed my wrist. His grip was crushing. His knuckles ground against my bones. “What the hell are you pulling out? More lies?” I struggled. Reached around with my free hand, dug into the bag. Managed to pull out the stack of paper. Before I could unfold a single sheet, Xavier ripped it from my hands. Tore it in half. Then again. White scraps exploded into the air. Paper drifted into my hair. I stared at him. Whatever warmth I had left went dead. Victoria let out a sob—right on cue—and buried her face deeper. “Xavier, don’t. She was only trying to—” Xavier cut her off. His voice dropped into a snarl. “She’s already crushed your wolf and you’re still defending her? Someone like this doesn’t deserve to walk free in our pack.” Dad’s face went dark. Completely dark. He jerked his chin toward the steward at the door. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of an Alpha’s command—low, final, and absolute. “Throw her out. This pack has no such daughter.”

I curled up on a hard cot in the pack gear house all night. Morning came. The first bell for lessons hadn’t even rung. I’d just spread my textbook open when the pack instructor called me to his office. I pushed the door open. Victoria was already sitting in the chair across from him. Her shoulders hitched in little spasms. A handkerchief was balled up in her fist. Her eyes were swollen like walnuts. The second she saw me, she looked up—just the right mix of hurt and fear in her eyes—and shrank behind the instructor. “Seraphina. You’re here.” The instructor’s voice was cold as steel. “Come in and tell me what you did to Victoria yesterday.” I stood in the doorway. Didn’t move. Victoria began to cry, right on schedule. “Sir, please don’t push her. Yesterday she cornered me in the corridor. She called me a cuckoo in someone else’s nest—a stray pretending to be Pack. She said she’d make sure I couldn’t stay at this academy. I… I was so scared.” Her voice was quiet. But every word was razor-clear, like small knives landing one by one. The instructor’s face darkened. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed. “I’ve already called the Alpha and Luna. They’ll be here soon.” It didn’t take long. The office door swung open. My parents walked in. Dad’s face was ashen. Mom was holding Victoria’s hand, eyes full of tenderness. Dad’s voice was barely controlled. “What happened? Did Seraphina bully Victoria again?” The instructor adjusted his glasses. His tone was grave. “Based on Victoria’s account, Seraphina has repeatedly verbally abused and spread lies about her at the academy. She even threatened to force Victoria out of school.” “This kind of behavior is absolutely not tolerated here.” Dad whipped his head toward me. The disappointment in his eyes could have drowned me. “How did I raise a daughter like you? Are you not going to stop until you’ve dragged the whole Blackwood name through the dirt?” I opened my mouth. Only a thin wisp of air came out. I raised my hand. My fingers barely started the sign for “no” before Dad’s palm cracked across my face. The slap rang out—sharp and clean. My head snapped to the side. My ears buzzed. My cheek burned. I stared at him. The tears finally fell. “You dare cry?” Dad’s voice dripped with open disgust. “You do something like this and you still have the nerve to cry? You’re just playing the victim for sympathy!” Victoria buried her face in Mom’s arms and let out another soft sob. “Dad, Mom, don’t scold her. I don’t blame her.” Mom shot me a cold glare. “Born cursed. Wolfless and rotten to the core. All you know how to do is hurt our Victoria!” The office door had been cracked open at some point. A few students peeked in, heads crowded together. Their whispers carried clearly. “So she really did bully Victoria…” “She seems so quiet. Didn’t expect her to be this vicious.” “Heard even her own parents didn’t want her. No wonder she’s so twisted.” Those words pricked my ears like needles. I took a deep breath. Forced myself to stay calm. I raised my hand again. Signed the words: “I didn’t.” But halfway through, the instructor cut me off. He frowned, his voice thick with impatience. “Seraphina, can you stop with these cheap tricks? If you have something to say, say it. Stop putting on a show.” I froze. My fingers hung in the air. So even my silent defense—the only defense I had—was just another performance to them. Right then, the office door was pushed open gently. A girl stood in the doorway. Her voice was small and shaky. “Sir… she’s not putting on a show. That’s sign language.” Everyone turned to look at her. She kept her head down, fingers gripping the hem of her shirt so hard her knuckles were white. But she gathered her courage and added, quietly: “My brother was deaf. I picked up some sign language when I volunteered there over the summer. What she just signed was ‘I didn’t.’ And… she’s really mute. She’s never spoken a single word at this school. Everyone knows that. She doesn’t have a wolf no one has ever heard her wolf. How could she have bullied anyone like this?”

The air in the room froze solid. The girl stood in the doorway, her cheeks flushed red. But she repeated herself, word by word. “I’m not making this up. ” The instructor pushed his glasses up. Skepticism dripped from his voice. “You’re sure about that? This isn’t something to joke about.” The girl lifted her chin. Her eyes were steady. “Sign language has fixed gestures. I wouldn’t get it wrong. And—Seraphina has never spoken. Not once.” The office went silent. My parents’ faces shifted. Mom looked at me. Her lips moved. She seemed about to say something. A flash of guilt—barely visible—crossed her eyes. But then Victoria let out a few sharp sobs. She wiped her tears with one hand and spoke softly. “Sister, even if you’re too scared to admit what you did, you can’t just hire someone to put on a show and pretend to be mute.” Her crying cut like a blade—sliced right through whatever faint guilt my mother had felt. Dad’s face went hard. He whipped around to face me, rage blazing in his eyes. “Seraphina, you really are something! To dodge punishment you’d even cook up a lie like this? And drag in an accomplice to act it out? You’re rotten to the bone!” I was trembling. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded piece of paper—my healer’s certificate. The one that documented my condition. I wanted to show them. But the second my fingers touched the paper, Dad snatched it away. He didn’t look at it. He tore it in half with both hands. The thin sheet became confetti. I stared at him. The tears fell. “You little liar!” Dad’s voice was raw with contempt. “You need to be taught a lesson. Learn not to mess with your Alpha. I’ll have you sent to the West border, be close to the Rogues may beat some sense into you. Then we’ll see if you keep playing this little trick!” Mom turned on me too. She held Victoria close, her eyes full of scorn. “Seraphina, we were so wrong about you. To think you’d stoop this low just to escape what you’ve done. You’re a disgrace.” Victoria leaned against Mom’s chest. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. But her face was still a mess of tears—the perfect picture of a wronged angel. “Dad, Mom, don’t be so hard on her. Maybe she’s just confused. She didn’t mean it…” “Confused?” Dad let out a cold laugh. “She’s beyond saving. Someone this twisted will only poison our Pack. I’m summoning Garrett right now to come take her away.” The instructor stood to the side, his expression shifting between light and shadow. He looked at me. Then at my parents. In the end, he just sighed and waved at the girl in the doorway. “You can go. We’ll handle things here.” The girl opened her mouth. She wanted to say more. But the instructor’s look stopped her. She gave me one long, final glance—full of sympathy and helplessness—then turned and left. I stood where I was. Looked down at the scraps of paper scattered on the floor. And laughed. So this was it. Everything I had—every last shred of proof—was just a joke to them. I never mattered in this family. Not for a single second. I crouched down slowly. Picked up the pieces one by one. A paper edge sliced my fingertip. I didn’t feel it. Compared to the pain inside, what was a little cut?

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619Vjs5PVChgN 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni844288”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

At dinner, my son asked my husband in German, “Dad, when are you going to divorce Mom and marry Miss Elena?” Julian kept peeling the shell off my egg, his expression perfectly calm as he answered in German, “That depends on when your Miss Elena agrees to my proposal.” My son rolled his eyes. “Then you’d better step it up. I don’t want to call the witch ‘Mom’ anymore.” I kept eating breakfast. My eyes burned. Julian tensed the moment he saw. “What’s wrong, Viv?” I shook my head. “Nothing. Just choked on the egg.” But the egg he’d peeled for me sat untouched on my plate. The tears came because I understood every word they said. … Julian must have forgotten. I minored in German during my master’s program and finished top of my year. He only took that class because he was trying to get close to me. Now he was watching me with that worried look. “Feeling better, babe?” I nodded absently and reached for my glass of milk. Before I could bring it to my lips, Julian snatched it away. “It’s gone cold. Let me heat it up for you.” I watched him walk away. I couldn’t reconcile the man who cared for my every need with the man who had already given his heart to someone else. My son rolled his eyes. “Dad, you’re going to spoil her until she can’t do anything for herself.” I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or mocking me. Julian ruffled his hair. “One day you’ll have a wife of your own, and you’ll be even worse than me.” “Besides, if I didn’t love your mom this much, where would you be?” My son said nothing. Maybe he was marveling at his father’s acting skills too. I married Julian fifteen years ago, when I was twenty. The year after our wedding, I quit my job and followed him abroad to build his career. That same year, our son was born. For fifteen years, I devoted myself to this family. I had no career left, no circle of my own. I lived for the two of them. And now my husband had betrayed me, and my son despised me. I had almost forgotten who I used to be: top of my class, fluent in six languages. Julian set the warmed milk by my hand. He noticed me staring into space. “What are you thinking about, babe?” I smiled at him. “Just wondering if you’re this attentive with other women too.” He stroked my hair. “You and your imagination. There’s no one else.” His voice was tender, his gaze steady. If I hadn’t understood their conversation, I’d still be falling for it. Julian took my hand. “Silly girl. I promised you on our wedding day: you’re the only one I’ll ever love. Don’t you believe me anymore?” I smiled back. Of course I believed he meant it when he said it. But words spoken in love only hold while the love lasts. When Julian was chasing me, he wasn’t much to look at, and he hadn’t made his fortune yet. I was the one everyone wanted. Top of my class, beautiful, accomplished. He worked hard to win me over. In the end, his sincerity got to me, and I chose him. For fifteen years, he took care of me. And then, six months ago, he started sleeping with his secretary. I used to think we’d be happy forever. Now I knew it was time to leave. I didn’t confront him. I didn’t scream or cry. I prepared to leave in silence, while he suspected nothing. One month. That’s how long until my doctoral admission letter arrived. Then I could leave Julian Sterling for good. —

After breakfast, Julian cleared the table like he always did. “Babe, I actually have some free time today. Let me take you shopping.” Our son, home for the weekend, whined about wanting to go camping instead. Julian frowned. “What’s the rule in this house? Mom comes first.” Watching him lecture our son, I couldn’t help but think: without Elena, he might actually be a decent husband and father. But how could I keep believing this act? My phone buzzed on the table. I picked it up. Elena had sent me a photo of her and Julian, faces pressed together. I turned off the screen and said nothing. A few minutes later, she texted again: “Julian has the day off. Who do you think he’s going to spend it with—me or you?” I almost laughed. She was the only one who still cared about the answer to that question. Julian walked over and leaned against my chair. “What is it, Viv? Something wrong?” I set the phone face-down. “Spam. It’s nothing.” Before, I would have shoved the photo in his face and screamed at him. Now I didn’t have the energy. I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to slip out of his life without a sound. Julian sensed something was off. He reached for my phone. I pressed my hand down on it. His phone rang. A breathy voice came through: “Julian, come keep me company, pleeeease?” He straightened up and stepped away. I ignored him and went to the bedroom to change. Half an hour later, I came back out. Julian had just hung up. I picked up my bag. “Weren’t we going shopping?” He looked me over, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Viv, something came up at the office. I can’t go with you.” I nodded. “Then go.” My easy acceptance seemed to throw him off. I pushed him toward the door. “She’s waiting for you. Hurry up, or you’ll be late. Work is important.” Julian kissed my forehead with a show of reluctance. It made my skin crawl. When he was gone, I felt lighter. I had more important things to do today. My visa had come through, and I needed to pick it up in person. An hour later, I walked out of the government building with a fresh visa in my hand. I felt like I could breathe again. Julian was probably having a good time right about now. Ten minutes ago, Elena had sent me another message: a photo of Julian’s bare back in the shower, and a line of text. “Vivian, you lose again.” I hailed a cab on the curb. “The mall, please.” I didn’t need Julian to go shopping. I could buy my own clothes. Most of my wardrobe came from him anyway. If I was leaving, I might as well replace all of it. —

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619r8qs3b9YKJ 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni171771”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

My husband brought up divorce while I was boiling noodles. “Split the savings down the middle. You keep the condo.” “The startup capital for the fragrance company was mine. So were every client and connection I built from scratch. None of that goes to you.” I didn’t stop stirring. I just nodded. Julian looked surprised. “That’s it?” I grabbed a handful of cilantro and dropped it into the bowl. “What else?” He stared at the green scattered across the surface, frowning. “You never put cilantro in your noodles.” I paused for a second. “People change their taste.” Julian looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. What he didn’t know was this: I’d never eaten cilantro because he hated the smell of it. But that was over now. ······· The moment I lifted the noodles from the pot, the doorbell rang. Julian moved quickly to answer it, his voice soft. “Why did you come all the way up? I told you to wait in the lobby.” The woman at the door laughed, bright and easy. “I’m here to help you move. I didn’t want you carrying everything alone.” I walked out with my bowl and found her already stepping inside, Julian’s arm loosely around her waist. I knew her. Cara Wynn — the new intern Julian had hired just six months ago. Supposedly a top graduate from the University of Washington’s fragrance program. From the day she walked into the office, Julian had never stopped finding reasons to praise her. Cara gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry to intrude, Rowan.” Rowan. She knew we were married and still called me by my first name like we were colleagues at a networking event. I didn’t respond. I sat down and kept eating. Julian, sensing my silence, offered an explanation. “Don’t read into it. I just asked Cara to help me pack.” Cara slipped off her shoes and moved into the apartment like she’d been here before. A scent hit me immediately. Familiar. Too familiar. I set down my chopsticks. “Did you give her the prototype I’ve been developing?” Cara’s hands went still on the jacket she was folding. She glanced at Julian. Julian shrugged it off. “You developed it as a company employee. Legally, it belongs to the company.” “Rowan. Business is business.” I went back to eating without a word. Ten years of marriage. To help Julian build his dream, I walked away from a seven-figure salary and started over with nothing. I never asked for a paycheck. Not once. And now he was telling me business is business. Cara chimed in. “Right, Rowan — you basically just submitted a formula. The real development and production work? That was all the company.” Just a formula. I almost laughed hearing that. I set down my bowl and looked at Julian calmly. “I pulled references from over a dozen historical texts to piece that formula together.” Julian’s eyes flickered with impatience. “So? The sources were public. If not you, someone else would’ve found them eventually.” Cara nodded along. “Honestly, I’ve read those same texts. The only reason it wasn’t me is because you knew Julian before I did.” This time I actually did laugh. Julian looked irritated and turned to leave. “I’ll be at the courthouse tomorrow. Don’t be late.” While I washed the dishes, my phone lit up. A photo had been posted in the work group chat. The whole company, standing together. Julian and Cara in the center, matching outfits, champagne flutes raised. They looked like a couple on a magazine cover. The messages kept coming. [Celebrating the Odoeologie IPO!] [Thank you, Julian and Cara!] Water rushed over my hands. I stared at the company name until my eyes stung. That was the name I gave my first perfume. I tried to type something. But the screen returned: [You cannot send messages in a group you’ve left.] A second later, Julian’s message appeared in my inbox. “Send me the formula.”

My finger hovered over his name for a long time. I called him anyway. “Why did you remove me from the group chat?” There was noise in the background — music, voices, the sound of a party still going. “We’re getting divorced. It’s weird for you to still be in there.” He paused, then added: “Besides, I’m having Cara take over the fragrance development side going forward.” Before I could say anything, other voices broke through. “Julian, who are you on the phone with?” “Don’t leave Cara standing there alone all night.” I heard Cara’s voice next, playful. “Marcus, stop it.” Julian laughed softly. “Be right there.” Then the call ended. I stood there for a moment. Julian had always kept work and home completely separate — not a single person in the office knew we were married. For ten years I was just his distant relative, or some quiet consultant nobody looked twice at. Cara had been there six months. And everyone already acted like she’d always belonged. I took the bowl out of the water and dropped it in the trash. The next morning, I went straight to the office. The employees were still glowing from the night before. “I didn’t expect Julian to be so soft when Cara’s around.” “She mentioned offhand that the team was overworked — and Julian sent everyone a thousand-dollar bonus.” I stopped walking. A hundred employees. A thousand each. One hundred thousand dollars, just like that. Something shifted in my chest. When the company was just starting out, I accidentally ingested a toxic compound while testing a fragrance ingredient. In the hospital, the doctor turned to Julian. “There’s an imported treatment and a domestic one. The imported version is more effective. Which do you want?” Julian didn’t hesitate. He chose the domestic one. At the time, I told myself it was because money was tight. Now I understood. He just didn’t think I was worth the difference. I walked to my office, only to find that my keycard didn’t work. Cara appeared from around the corner and let me in herself. “This is my office now. Julian had the code changed.” She walked me in like she owned the space. Because she did now. The layout had been redone. Minimalist, expensive. My aesthetic, but erased. And sitting in the trash can: every certificate and trophy I’d earned over the years. Cara followed my gaze. “They looked dated. Julian thought they cluttered the space.” “So I tossed them. Hope that’s okay.” I picked them out of the bin, wiped them down, and tucked them into my bag. Then I walked to the small back room. Good. It hadn’t been touched. The shelf along the wall was lined with the raw materials I’d collected over the years — resins, dried botanicals, extracted oils, things I’d sourced myself from markets and forests and remote suppliers. I reached for them. Cara stepped in front of me. “Some things aren’t yours to take anymore.” I walked past her and packed everything into my bag. “I collected each of these personally. None of it belongs to the company.” Cara opened her mouth to argue — then suddenly slapped herself across the face. Julian burst through the door a second later.

“Why did you hit her?” I watched Julian rush to Cara’s side, shielding her like she was something fragile. A heaviness settled in my chest. “Julian. I used to think I was the blind one. Now I think it’s you.” I turned to leave. Julian blocked the door. “Apologize. Or you know what I’m capable of.” I didn’t respond. But I found out exactly what he was capable of a few days later. My closest friend called, stumbling over her words. “Did you and Julian actually split? Why is everyone online saying Cara founded Odoeologie?” “And that perfume — I swear that was yours. Why is her name on it now?” I gave her a vague answer and opened the app. The top trending story was about Odoeologie’s power couple and their ‘modern love story.’ I tapped it. It was a recorded interview with Julian. He spoke warmly, gesturing toward Cara as he explained the origin of the Odoeologie name. “This fragrance exists because of my partner’s love for me. Without her, Odoeologie would never have been born.” He wasn’t entirely wrong about that, actually. The inspiration behind the formula had come from someone’s love for him. It just wasn’t Cara’s. I kept watching. Julian held Cara’s hand on camera, looking at her with the kind of attention I hadn’t seen directed at me in years. The comments were flooded with people shipping them. Marketing accounts had already dug up Cara’s academic credentials and her supposed background in fragrance chemistry. No one mentioned me. Not the woman who built the formula, not the wife who was discarded. My grip on the phone tightened. Julian was systematically removing every trace of me. I sat down at my laptop and pulled up the National Copyright Registration portal. I searched my name. The filings were all there. Every perfume formula I’d registered. The tension in my chest loosened slightly. I’d always been careful about intellectual property — even when I didn’t think I needed to be. Because I’d trusted Julian, I never asked for a salary or a contract. Which meant the IP was entirely mine. Two messages came in. One from Julian: [Why hasn’t the core formula come through yet?] [Odoeologie is presenting at the Seattle Fragrance Founders Summit tomorrow. I need it tonight.] I ignored it. The other was from Theo: [Heard you got written out of Odoeologie. Come work with me instead.] Theo Nash. I’d met him while foraging raw botanicals in the Cascades two summers ago. Another obsessive — someone who loved scent the same way I did. I sat with the message for a while. Then looked at my savings. I replied. [I want equity. Fifty-fifty.] He didn’t pause. [Done. I already have a studio space. Meet tomorrow?] [Yes. Let me wrap something up here first.] Julian called before I could put the phone down. “Why haven’t you sent the formula?” I was quiet for a moment. “Julian. I made that formula myself.” He stopped. “You made it as a company employee. It’s company property.” I laughed. It felt genuine. “Julian — did we ever sign a contract?” “Did you ever pay me a single dollar?” His voice shifted. “You’re the one who said you didn’t need a contract. Don’t throw that back at me now.” True. I’d said that because I thought we were partners. I didn’t realize my generosity would become the blade he’d use to cut me out. He kept talking. I hung up. A text came in an hour later. [Given our ten years together — name your price. Just send it.] I set the phone face-down and laid out my outfit for tomorrow.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619PVj6F7CtgM 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni403467”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

Three years after my own brother exiled me to the lawless borderlands of South America, we finally met again at a private airport in New York. That place was Cartel territory. I had been gravely injured trying to protect the local children in that chaotic war zone and was rushed back to the States for emergency treatment. Meanwhile, Julian was preparing to take his precious adopted sister, Chloe, on a vacation to Europe. Our eyes met. He looked at my blood-stained clothes, his voice dripping with that familiar, arrogant disappointment. “I warned you, Serena. That place is a Cartel crossfire zone. No one but the Vance family could protect you, yet you still ran around causing trouble like a wild brat.” He adjusted his cufflinks, looking down at me. “I can let the family’s private doctor save you, but only on one condition: You must apologize to Chloe for what happened three years ago!” I lay paralyzed on the stretcher, coldly averting my gaze. “No need, Julian. We haven’t been siblings for a long time.” I had found a new protector in hell—he was the King of the Underworld. The best surgical team in New York was already on standby for me. … My body was riddled with shrapnel wounds of various sizes. Especially my leg. The nerve pain was so intense it felt numb. Just speaking that one sentence brought the taste of rusty iron to my throat. Julian’s face darkened. It was the typical look of an alpha male being defied. “Three years, Serena. Are you still playing this rebellious game?” “You’re half-dead, and you still haven’t learned your lesson?” I wanted to retort, but the movement pulled at my wounds, making me hiss in pain. The two soldiers from the Moretti family carrying me tried to move forward, but Julian’s bodyguards blocked them. “Serena Vance, is it so hard to just say ‘I’m sorry’?” The stretcher jerked to a halt, sending a piercing agony through my right leg. I gritted my teeth. It was an instinctual reaction to extreme pain. “I did nothing wrong. Fuck your apology!” Beside him, Chloe grabbed Julian’s arm. He was wearing an expensive custom suit. She tugged at it gently, acting like a frightened little deer. “Julian, forget it. My heart is fine now, really…” “You’re still defending her?” Julian looked at her with a mix of adoration and frustration. “If she hadn’t slapped you three years ago, would you have suffered that heart attack? Would you have needed to recover for this long?” He glared at me again. “Look at her. Covered in injuries. She obviously got into a brawl with some gang members. Since she still doesn’t know she’s wrong, sending her to the border was clearly too light a punishment!” The South American border is a lawless place. Naturally, Julian assumed my injuries were from a street fight. But he was wrong. Those were fragments from an RPG explosion. I had thrown myself over two children to save them. My leg was ruined, and one of my ears was nearly deafened by the blast. I looked at him with mocking eyes. “Yeah, you should have just put a bullet in my head back then.” “You want an apology? Maybe when hell freezes over!” Julian’s face turned green. His fists clenched tight, a sign he wanted to hit something. Just then, the airport announcement called for him and Chloe to board their flight to Paris. My soldiers were getting impatient. Hands rested on their holsters as they scowled, ready to push past. Chloe tugged his sleeve again. “Julian, let’s go. We’ll miss the flight!” Her face was pale, her voice weak and breathless. Julian always fell for this act. His tone softened immediately. “Okay.” When he looked back at me, his eyes were ice-cold again. “Wait until I get back from vacation with Chloe. We will settle the score then!” Surrounded by bodyguards, he and Chloe disappeared down the VIP channel. The two foreign soldiers rushed my stretcher to the waiting ambulance, speeding straight toward Mount Sinai Hospital. Three top surgical experts examined me quickly, their expressions grave. The only Asian doctor among them spoke to me in a heavy tone. “Ms. Vance, please rest assured. You came back in time. Your leg can be saved.” “Mr. Moretti gave a strict order to cure you at all costs. We are prepping for surgery immediately!” Mr. Moretti was my new brother—Dante Moretti. Hearing his name, I instantly felt safer. I nodded weakly and was wheeled into the operating room. The shadowless lights turned on. Anesthesia flowed through my veins. Consciousness faded, and I slowly closed my eyes. But right then, a commotion erupted outside the operating room. It was Julian’s furious roar. “Where are the doctors? My sister Chloe is having a heart attack! Get me your best surgical experts! I have money!” My heart sank with a heavy thud. But before I could think, the drugs took over, and I plunged into darkness.

I thought that after three years, I wouldn’t care about the old nightmares anymore. But in my sleep, I returned to the Vance family manor—that place that eats people alive. I was kidnapped at seven. When Julian found me, I was seventeen. In that lost decade, our parents died in a plane crash. Crushed by grief, Julian developed severe depression and fell into substance abuse. His therapist suggested adopting a child to shift his focus. That was Chloe. Chloe was three years younger than me and knew exactly how to wrap Julian around her finger. When I was found, their bond was at its peak. Julian always warned me: “Serena, Chloe has a congenital heart condition. She can’t handle stress. Stay away from her and don’t provoke her.” “She helped me through rehab. I can’t send her away, but don’t worry, you are my only blood relative!” I knew Julian had a hard time running the family business, so I endured everything. But in corners Julian couldn’t see, Chloe showed her fangs. She got me grounded during charity galas, claiming I didn’t know etiquette. She stole the jewelry family friends gifted me. If I said a word, she would clutch her chest and collapse on the sofa, gasping for air. Eventually, Julian became disappointed in me. “It’s just small stuff, Serena. Chloe has a bad heart. Do you want to kill her?” I held it in until Chloe “accidentally” smashed the herbal medicine I had spent hours brewing for Julian’s stomach ulcers. It was a small thing, but it lit the fuse of all my grievances. “Julian drank too much and has gastric bleeding! If you won’t help, why make it worse?” I slapped her. The next second, she collapsed, clutching her chest. An Oscar-worthy performance. I will never forget the cold look Julian gave me. “I’ll deal with you when I get back!” He carried Chloe and rushed to the garage. I was terrified. The next morning, Julian came home, threw a passport and a one-way ticket at me. “Chloe has heart failure. It’s serious. You can’t stay here. Go to the house in South America and reflect on your actions.” I couldn’t believe it. I screamed and cried, “If you send me away, I’ll never recognize you as my brother again!” He didn’t care. He signaled the bodyguards to drag me to the car. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since you came back. You think you’re a princess? If you can’t fix that temper, don’t come back!” “I can protect you in New York, but down there, it’s Cartel territory. No one will save you!” I cried until I couldn’t breathe, repeating myself like a broken record. “I didn’t do anything wrong! If you send me away, you’re dead to me!” He pressed his lips together and crushed my last hope. “Then consider me dead. You are going to South America!” It was an exile. Within a year, I was on the streets, living in a slum worse than a refugee camp. I don’t dare think about how I survived those three years. When I opened my eyes again, I was crying. The surgical lights stung my vision. A young intern stood next to me, holding a scalpel, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry, Ms. Vance… All the specialists were forcibly transferred by a Mr. Julian Vance. He donated ten million dollars to the board and used family connections, so…” My ribs were broken, and I had hundreds of stitches all over my body. The intern had managed to clean the wounds, but my right leg… Because Julian took my surgeon away, I missed the window for vascular reconnection. I faced amputation. “Ms. Vance, the bone is shattered, and the tissue is necrotic. You don’t have time to think.” “Amputation is the only way to save your life. Prosthetic technology is very advanced now.” Someone kept buzzing in my ear with that damn professional tone. My head was spinning. Images of maimed people in the slums flashed before me. When the RPG hit, those who couldn’t run were blown to pieces. I wanted to keep my dignity. I didn’t want to be buried missing a leg. My voice choked with sobs. “What happens if I don’t amputate?” “Sepsis. Muscle atrophy. Infection spreading. You could lose the other leg, or even die. If you amputate now, you can use crutches. If you wait, it’ll be a wheelchair for life…” I covered my face with my hands, tears streaming through my fingers. Suddenly, the phone under my pillow rang. It was a FaceTime from Dante. I took a breath, wiped my face dry, and forced a smile before answering. “Hey, Dante. What’s up?” He showed me a plane ticket, his dark eyes full of worry. “I’ll be in New York the day after tomorrow. Just wanted to let you know.” “Is the surgery done? How’s the recovery?” “I found the best trauma experts in the US. Everything went well, right?” I shifted the camera, showing only half of my pale face. “It went great. Don’t worry.” He let out a sigh of relief. A rare smile appeared on his stern face. “Leo and Mateo insisted on coming. They say you saved their lives.” Two little Latino boys burst onto the screen, waving and speaking excited Spanish. I forced a smile to greet them, then hung up, claiming the anesthesia was making me sleepy. As soon as I put the phone down, Julian’s voice came from the hallway. “Is this Serena’s room? I was in a rush earlier and borrowed her doctors. I want to apologize and discuss compensation.” The door opened. Seeing me, Julian froze as if he’d seen a ghost. “The person in the OR… was you?” I looked at him with pure mockery. “Let me guess. Did Chloe make a miraculous recovery the moment she arrived at the hospital? Just like every time before?” Before Julian could answer, the intern urged urgently. “Ms. Vance, have you decided? Amputation or not?” “If you choose amputation, we must operate immediately. Infection markers are rising!” Julian’s face turned pale. “Amputation? What’s going on?” The intern confirmed our relationship and explained the situation. When Julian learned that because he stole the experts for Chloe’s “palpitations,” I missed the golden hour for surgery… His expression became hideous. But almost instantly, he reverted to the decisive head of the Vance family and made the choice for me. “Amputate. We can’t let both legs rot!” I clenched my fists and shouted, “No! I choose conservative treatment!” I had to wait for Dante. Maybe there was a way. Moretti resources were far superior to Vance resources. Julian scowled. “Serena, why are you so stubborn? Did you hear the doctor?” “It’s just an amputation. Even if you can’t stand, the Vance family will support you forever. Who dares to mock you?” My voice cracked. “No! I’d rather die than lose my leg!” “We cut ties long ago! You have no right to decide for me!” “This…” The doctor looked conflicted. This was America; patient consent mattered. Julian frowned and pulled out legal documents. Passport, ID, and a medical power of attorney. He handed the papers to the doctor with a grim satisfaction. “I am Serena Vance’s legal guardian. She signed this proxy agreement before. Her mental state is unstable. Listen to me!” “We choose amputation. Do the surgery now!”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619MGl1gQeyIa 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni034052”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

At Old Mr. Sinclair’s eightieth birthday gala, my husband’s first love sobbed that my brother had forced himself on her. The elite guests murmured amongst themselves, tongues sharp enough to draw blood. “Clara Hayes was hand-picked by Old Mr. Sinclair as a potential bride for his grandson. The Carver boy has gone too far!” Out of respect for the two families’ long-standing ties, Old Mr. Sinclair chose not to pursue legal action. Instead, he decreed that my brother marry Clara, using the union to atone for the alleged offense. But my husband Sebastian stepped forward in front of everyone and personally shattered both of my brother’s legs. Afterward, he took my hand with a helpless expression. “The Sinclairs have reach on both sides of the law. If we don’t let them have this, the whole Carver family could pay for it later.” Seven and a half months later, Clara gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Ethan sat in his wheelchair and screamed until his voice broke. “I told you — I never laid a single finger on her!” He had said it a hundred times that night. Not one person had believed him. They mocked him instead and called him a coward who couldn’t own what he’d done. He scooped the newborn out of the bassinet and moved to take the story to the press. Sebastian came up behind him and brought something down hard against the back of his skull. Ethan dropped to the floor. I lunged forward to scream — and Sebastian’s hand closed around my throat. “If you two blow this open, what kind of life do Clara and the child have left?” His eyes were cold and without mercy. He squeezed until everything went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn — back to the evening of the gala. This time, I zip-tied Ethan’s wrists myself and locked him in the supply closet. Three deadbolts. But Clara still walked into that ballroom claiming someone had violated her. … Clara had nothing on but Sebastian’s suit jacket draped over her bare shoulders, angry red marks trailing down her skin. She covered her face with both hands, her sobs wretched and practiced. “I’ve shamed myself in front of Mr. Sinclair. I can’t face anyone.” She twisted toward the nearest marble pillar. “Sebastian, don’t stop me — just let me die!” Several society wives lunged forward to pull her back. Their eyes, when they turned to me, were full of contempt. “Ethan Carver thinks he can come back from abroad and act like an animal?” “His family scraped together their reputation off military service, and now he puts his hands on the woman Old Mr. Sinclair himself chose? He clearly has no respect for this family.” “Clara was supposed to marry the Sinclair heir next month. That’s finished now.” I glanced at Sebastian, Clara sheltered behind his broad back like something precious, and swallowed the sneer threatening to curl my mouth. I pushed through the crowd and walked straight to Clara’s side. “Miss Hayes.” My voice came out even. “Look carefully. Is the man who attacked you actually my brother?” Clara flinched. Fresh tears spilled down her face. “Miss Carver, I understand you want to protect Ethan. But who would lie about something like this?” Her voice cracked. “I don’t want to live anymore.” She threw herself toward the pillar again. The society wives caught her in a flurry of silk and pearls. Sebastian crossed the room in three strides and yanked me aside, fingers biting into my wrist hard enough to leave bruises. His face was a thundercloud. “Lena. Your brother commits something unforgivable, and instead of making him apologize, you come here and bully Clara?” “Your father spent his whole life building something decent. You and Ethan just burned it to the ground.” His grip was iron. My wrist throbbed. But inside, I was laughing. Thirty minutes ago, I had tied Ethan up myself and padlocked him in the supply closet. Three locks. Unless someone physically broke him out, there was no way he’d touched Clara Hayes. I met Sebastian’s eyes without flinching. “Are you certain, Sebastian? Certain the man you saw was my brother?” His brow creased. He bit out his answer through clenched teeth. “I watched him put his hands on her with my own eyes. I knocked him out myself to pull her free. You think I can’t recognize my own brother-in-law?”

My stomach dropped. The certainty in Sebastian’s voice made something cold crawl up my spine. Had Ethan somehow gotten out? “Mrs. Holt.” An older socialite cut across the room toward me, voice shrill with indignation. “How much longer do you intend to make a scene?” “You’re the wife of the Holt Group’s heir. Instead of protecting this family’s name, you’re shielding a criminal from your own bloodline. You have no business calling yourself the mistress of the Holt household.” “What — should Sebastian turn a blind eye while your thug of a brother destroys Clara and drives her to her grave?” Sebastian shot me a withering look. “Lena. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I let out a short, cold laugh and swept my gaze across the room — all these people so certain of their righteousness, so eager to follow whoever was loudest. “It seems no matter what actually happened tonight, the blame was always going to land on my brother.” “How dare you—” Clara recoiled as though I’d slapped her, fresh tears streaking her cheeks, her expression the perfect portrait of wounded innocence. She bit her trembling lip. “I have never tried to attach myself to anyone. I have never wanted anything I didn’t earn.” “And now I’m being called shameless. Desperate.” Her voice splintered. “Fine. If the Carver family won’t believe me, I’d rather die than have any part of this.” She spun and threw herself toward the floor-to-ceiling window. Three society wives caught her in a shrieking tangle of arms. “Miss Hayes, don’t!” “It’s that Carver boy’s fault — every bit of it!” “You can’t let him win by doing something like this!” They comforted Clara with one breath and spat venom at me with the next. “Clara was going to be the Sinclair heir’s wife. The Carvers are what — a mid-tier business family? You think a woman with her future would risk her reputation to frame you?” Sebastian stepped in close, his tone softening into something that might have looked like concern. “Lena. It’s over. Let Ethan marry Clara, issue a public apology, make the financial settlement.” “If this goes to court, a sexual assault charge alone puts him away for ten years. The Carver Group’s stock collapses overnight. How do you explain that to the board?” In my last life, I had believed every word of this. I’d convinced myself Ethan had done it — drunk, reckless, out of control — and I’d spent years drowning in guilt. I handed over Carver Group’s most valuable contracts to the Hayes family. I treated Clara like royalty. And seven and a half months later, she delivered another man’s child and took everything we had built. Nausea rolled through me in a slow, vicious wave. I pulled my arm free from Sebastian’s grip. “Letting Clara Hayes walk into my family without the truth coming out first?” I said. “Not a chance in hell.” The last trace of warmth vanished from Sebastian’s face. His eyes went flat and mean. Before he could speak, Mr. Hayes stormed through the doors, his face the color of iron. He crossed to Clara without a word and struck her across the face — clean, sharp, loud enough to echo. Clara staggered and hit the floor, blood welling at the corner of her mouth. “You embarrass me in front of these people?” he snarled. “Get out. Buy a plane ticket. Die abroad if you have to — just don’t come back and drag the Hayes name any further through the dirt.” Two bodyguards moved in to drag her out. “Don’t touch me.” Clara snatched a fruit knife off the nearest table and drew it across her wrist without hesitation. The room erupted. Someone screamed. Others rushed to stop her. Hands grabbed at my sleeve. “Mrs. Holt — you’re just going to stand there?” “If Ethan hadn’t done what he did, she wouldn’t be doing this!” “Can the Carver family even live with themselves?” I watched the performance in silence. A flash of something vicious crossed Clara’s eyes. Her grip on the knife tightened. The blade parted skin. Blood came fast and bright. The society wives shrieked in unison. “The Carver family has blood on their hands!”

Sebastian’s face went white. He crossed the room and wrenched the knife from Clara’s hand. “Get the house physician — now!” He stripped off his tie and wound it tight around her bleeding wrist. Clara let herself be surrounded, blinking weakly up at the crowd. Her eyes slid to me for just a moment — no despair in them, no death wish. Only the bright, quiet gleam of someone who thought she was winning. Once Clara had been carefully arranged on a chaise in the rest area, Sebastian turned and came straight for me. “Lena.” The slap landed before I could move — open-handed, full force, ringing off the walls of the ballroom. I staggered into the edge of a marble table. The corner caught my forehead. Blood ran into my eyebrow. My left cheek burned, my ear rang, and the room tilted sideways. Sebastian stood over me, pointing down like I was something he’d scraped off his shoe. “You wanted her dead, right? You didn’t stop until you pushed her there?” “I don’t need such a wife. I want a divorce. Tonight.” The room erupted in agreement. Someone actually smiled. “He’s right to do it. A wife like that is a curse.” “The brother’s a predator and she’s no better — God knows how she landed Sebastian in the first place.” “The Holt family and Clara Hayes are the real victims here. These two Carver siblings are a plague.” The words came in waves, each one uglier than the last. They looked at me like I was something that needed to be put down. I swallowed the blood pooling at the back of my throat. I pressed a hand to the floor and pushed myself up, slowly, until I was standing straight. “Proof.” My voice didn’t shake. “Show me one person in this room who actually witnessed my brother attack Clara Hayes.” Silence. Faces exchanged glances. Sebastian’s smile was brittle. “You never learn, do you?” He turned and walked to the far corner of the ballroom, where two bodyguards stood flanking a large black duffel bag. He crouched, unknotted the drawstring, and reached inside. When he straightened, he was holding a custom lapel pin between two fingers — small, expensive, engraved with a single letter: C. He raised it above his head so the whole room could see. “This pin was commissioned for Ethan Carver’s twenty-first birthday. Custom design, one of a kind. No duplicate exists anywhere in the world.” He turned and threw it at my chest. “Still want to tell me your brother wasn’t there?” The floor shifted under me. Cold sweat broke across my back. That pin. I recognized it instantly. Ethan had been wearing it tonight. Had someone gone to the supply closet and let him out? But I had left a guard posted. I had given specific instructions. Something wasn’t adding up. Mr. Hayes spat on the ground at my feet. “The evidence is right in front of you. What exactly is left to argue?” I held Sebastian’s gaze and let the smile come slowly. “Funny thing, isn’t it?” “Ethan and I haven’t been back long. We don’t run in these circles often, but we’ve never caused trouble. We know how to conduct ourselves.” “So why is it that on the one night I specifically asked my brother to stay close to Sebastian and keep his head down — this happens?” I let the question sit. “Someone set Ethan up. Someone who wanted my family to take the fall.” “That is a lie—” The composure cracked. Just for a second — but I saw it. Sebastian’s eyes flickered with something he couldn’t quite bury. The men closest to him grabbed his arms, quietly, firmly — keeping him from doing something he couldn’t walk back. The room turned on me instead. “Lena, have you lost your mind? You’re accusing your own husband to cover for your brother?” “You want to take the Holt family down with you?” “The Holts have suffered enough bringing you into this family!” Several older women rushed over to pull me aside. “Lena, apologize to Sebastian. There’s still time to fix this.” I shook them off. “I have nothing to apologize for.” Someone murmured nearby. “Sebastian and Clara grew up together. If something was really going on between them, they’d have married years ago. Why would she need to bother with any of this?” It was a small thing — barely above a whisper. But in a room full of people who’d been so certain a moment ago, it landed like a stone in still water. Eyes shifted. Expressions changed. The crowd that had been pointing at me began, almost imperceptibly, to point somewhere else.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619XHnZqV85Nx 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni892744”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix