Category: English

My lawyer husband sent his mistress of two years to prison for me. But when the judge asked for his final testimony, he looked me in the eye and changed everything. “I’m testifying on behalf of Chloe Martinez.” His voice carried across the courtroom. “The person who killed my in-laws wasn’t Chloe. It was my wife, Aria Bennett.” Six years. That’s what the judge gave me for manslaughter I didn’t commit. I screamed my innocence until the bailiffs dragged me out. Julian wouldn’t even look at me. He kept his eyes on Chloe, who dabbed at fake tears with a designer handkerchief. Prison changed me in ways that can’t be undone. They took my left eye with a rusted spoon in the shower block. My leg snapped in three places when they threw me down the stairs, the bone jutting through skin. The knife that carved up my face was dull, and they made sure I stayed conscious for every stroke. I tried to appeal. Filed motion after motion until Julian’s people made it clear that wouldn’t be tolerated. “Boss says to tell you—shut up or the six years becomes your whole life,” the guard said before she held my head in the toilet and flushed. I lived like something less than human. When Julian picked me up from the gates two months early, he draped his arm around my shoulders like we were still in love. Like I wasn’t half-blind and limping, my face a roadmap of scars. “Chloe’s young,” he said, casual as weekend plans. “Her youth shouldn’t be wasted behind bars. You’re different. You can handle it.” “Six years flew by, didn’t they?” He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “As long as you don’t cause trouble for Chloe anymore, I’ll treat you right. We can move past this.” I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and typed a message to the number I’d memorized in my cell. *I**’**ll marry you. But first, you help me kill two people.* The response came within seconds. *Names.* *Julian Hart. Chloe Martinez.* *Done. I**’**ll collect you in one week. Their heads will be your wedding gift.* I shut off the phone and shoved Julian away. His expression darkened. “Aria, I know you’re upset about the testimony, but Chloe couldn’t survive prison. She’s too fragile.” “You’ve risked your life for me before. I didn’t even ask you to take a bullet this time—just six years. Why are you being difficult?” My fingernails cut crescents into my palms. He knew exactly who Chloe had killed. Not strangers. Not random victims. The couple who raised me from nothing, who gave me a name and a home when I was three years old and alone in the world. On our wedding day, I told him the truth—I was an orphan. If my foster parents hadn’t taken me in, I wouldn’t have survived, let alone married someone like him. He cried. Actually cried. Held me and swore on everything holy: “I’ll take care of you the way they did. They are my family now. I’ll make you happy for the rest of your life.” Then my parents drove to pick me up after one of our fights. Chloe’s car hit them doing ninety in a forty zone, drunk off her ass. She dragged their bodies two hundred yards before she noticed. Julian promised justice. Promised the person responsible would face consequences. Then he found out it was Chloe and threw me under the bus instead. “Julian.” My voice came out raw. “Chloe killed my parents.” “You were my defense lawyer. You turned on me in open court, twisted the narrative until everyone believed I was a murderer, and shielded the real killer. Six years. Don’t you feel even a shred of guilt?” Hearing the accusation in my voice, Chloe quickly tucked herself into his embrace, tears already streaming. “Aria, I know you hate me for the accident, but I never meant to hurt anyone. Your parents walked right in front of my car. What was I supposed to do?” She pulled a knife from her purse. Pressed the blade to her wrist. “If you still blame me, I’ll just end it right here.” Julian tore the knife away and crushed her against him. When he looked at me, his eyes could’ve frozen blood. “Chloe’s suffered just as much as you these past six years. She became a vegetarian to atone for your parents’ deaths. She’s prayed for their souls every single night. Do you have to be so unreasonable?”

His words scraped against the raw wound where my heart used to be. I was the one who lost my parents. I was the one who rotted in a cell for six years. But somehow I was unreasonable. Did he forget what his people did to me inside? Every time I tried to appeal, the punishment got worse. They used that rusted spoon on my eye because it hurt more than a clean blade. The steel plate they broke my leg with had nails embedded in it. The knife that carved my face was dull as a butter knife. They held me down and made me drink from the toilet while the ringleader spit on me. “Boss says you need to learn when to shut up. Keep filing appeals and he’ll make sure your six years turns into forever.” I’d curl into corners where the guards couldn’t see me, shaking. Not just from the pain in my body, but from the agony in my chest. Four years I stood by Julian’s side. Chloe showed up for two months and erased everything. One word from her about being scared, and he fabricated evidence to bury me. One word about not wanting him to visit, and he abandoned me for six years straight. I wanted to die so many times. But the hatred growing in my chest wouldn’t let me. If I died, I couldn’t avenge my parents. Couldn’t clear my name. I walked up to Chloe and slapped her hard enough to leave a handprint. She shrieked and grabbed her face. Julian seized my wrist, his grip brutal. “Aria, have you lost your goddamn mind?” “An apology means nothing unless she’s dead.” My voice came out flat and terrible. He backhanded me across the face. I hit the ground, tasting copper. My vision swam, but I forced myself to look up at him. “Six years wasn’t enough punishment,” he snarled. “You think you can put your hands on Chloe now?” “Remember—I got you out two months early. I can send you right back.” He scooped Chloe into his arms and walked out without a backward glance. I stayed on the ground. My right eye started going dark too. The vision in it had been getting worse for weeks. That night, I drafted divorce papers. I found Julian’s estate from memory and pushed through the front door. A birthday party was in full swing. Everyone turned to stare when I stumbled in with my cane. “Oh my god, isn’t that Julian Hart’s wife? The one who killed her own parents?” “She looks like hell. One eye gone, limping around. What happened to her?” “Karma. She murdered her parents and framed that poor Chloe girl. Didn’t expect Julian to expose her in court, did she?” “People like her get what they deserve in prison. Bet the other inmates taught her a lesson.” Chloe covered her mouth, eyes sparkling with glee as she approached. “Aria! You should’ve called ahead. Julian just threw me a little birthday party. You’re not upset, are you?” Her smugness was obvious. But I couldn’t stop staring at what she wore. The custom gown cost more than most people’s cars. While Chloe draped herself in haute couture, I’d been trading manual labor for thin blankets in the prison laundry. Six years passed. Chloe looked radiant. I’d lost a leg, an eye, both parents, and any semblance of the person I used to be. All courtesy of Julian Hart. I dropped the divorce agreement on the table. “Julian, sign this. We’re done.” He laughed. Actually laughed. “Aria, are you stuck in the past? Look at yourself.” “You’re half-blind, you limp, and you murdered your own parents. Who else would accept you besides me?”

I’d heard worse. Much worse. Years ago, when a defendant’s family took Julian hostage, I went alone to get him back. They stabbed me through the uterus with a hunting knife. The doctors said I’d never have children. Julian asked me why I risked my life. I told him he was family—the only family I had besides my parents. Family knows exactly where to stick the knife for maximum pain. My scars weren’t armor. They were ammunition he used against me. “I didn’t kill anyone, Julian. You know that better than anyone.” My voice cut through the murmurs. His expression darkened. He rushed to correct me before the gossip could spread. “The judge convicted you. You did it. Or are you planning to lie about that too?” Hearing my accusation, Chloe grabbed my hand, tears already forming. “Aria, I know framing me for the accident didn’t work out the way you wanted, but Julian only threw this party because he felt sorry for me. I’m alone in this city, working so hard. If it bothers you, I’ll leave. Please don’t fight with Julian because of me.” Her words hit the crowd like a grenade. “That bitch is even worse than we thought. She’s bullying Chloe right in front of us!” I ignored their judgment. I was staring at Chloe’s wrist. At the bracelet catching the light. My father worked three jobs for four months to buy me that bracelet for my eighteenth birthday. He had my initials engraved on the inside. I wore it every day until it vanished right before my arrest. Now it gleamed on Chloe’s wrist. I grabbed her arm. “Where did you get that? It’s mine. Give it back.” She dropped to her knees, sobbing. “Please stop tormenting me! You can have anything else, but this bracelet is special. Julian gave it to me for my birthday.” I whirled on Julian, voice shaking. “That was the last thing my father gave me before he died. You had no right to give it to her!” Julian looked uncomfortable. For half a second, guilt flickered across his face. Then Chloe screamed and threw herself backward. Her head cracked against the edge of the coffee table. Blood poured from her scalp. Julian lost it completely. He lunged forward to help her, then kicked my broken leg. “It’s a bracelet. Does that justify attacking Chloe?” He snatched up the divorce papers and scrawled his signature. “You want a divorce? Done.” “But don’t come crawling back like a dog when you realize your mistake.” I collapsed, vision blurring red. Julian threw the signed papers at my face. The irony cut deeper than any of the prison beatings. I’d tried to divorce him dozens of times during those six years. He refused to sign every single petition. But one injury to Chloe, and suddenly he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.

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The Alpha I’d been mated to for ten years finally became Alpha King. But the woman crowned Luna Queen wasn’t me. Pack members whispered their sympathies. Ten years of loyalty. All for another woman’s throne. I sat unbothered in my new quarters, slowly sipping water. Because I’m not really from this world. I’m a System User. My mission was simple: help Alaric become Alpha King, then die by his hand. Play the perfect unimportant role. Do that, and I go home with a hundred million dollars. I know this water is laced with Wolfs bane. The new Luna Queen slipped it in. But the water was a gift from Alaric. So this counts as dying by his hand, right? Perfect. I can finally go home. With a hundred million dollars. Back to my world. — Pain exploded through my body. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision. The metallic taste of blood flooded my throat. I gripped the table’s edge, but a grin pulled at my lips anyway. Finally. It’s finally ending. I crashed to the floor, swallowed by darkness. But the System notification I’d been waiting for never came. I forced my heavy eyelids open. Above me—the familiar silver-threaded canopy. The Luna’s Quarters. I was still in the Luna’s Quarters. I blinked. Was I hallucinating? Had the System glitched? “Elara! You’re awake?” A sharp voice cut through my confusion. Alaric’s face came into focus, leaning over me. He still wore his ceremonial robes from the coronation—black silk embroidered with gold thread. A few strands of dark hair had escaped his crown. Clearly, I was still alive on his mating day to Seraphina. Seraphina. The White Wolf. Alaric’s first love from his youth, who’d been claimed by his late father, the previous Alpha King. Their forbidden romance, now tragically sanctioned. To hide his shame, he’d mated with me instead—convenient, disposable me. Now that he was Alpha King, his first act was retrieving Seraphina from the Sanctuary of the Moon and making her his Luna Queen. I coughed weakly, finding my voice. “I didn’t die?” “Of course you didn’t die! A servant found you in time. You didn’t drink much Wolfsbane, and the Pack Healer’s antidote worked. You’re going to be fine.” Alaric’s brows were drawn tight. “Oh. That’s… unfortunate.” I mumbled. There went my hundred million dollars. Alaric gripped my hand, his voice dropping lower. “Elara, don’t worry. I’ll find whoever did this. I’ll make them pay.” Before I could respond, hurried footsteps echoed outside. Seraphina swept into the room. “Alaric, we found out who it was.” Alaric released my hand instantly, turning to her. “Who? Who dared?!”

Seraphina hesitated. “Perhaps you should question him yourself. I… I don’t know what to say.” An male omega servant was dragged in by guards and thrown to the floor. He prostrated himself immediately. “Alpha King, mercy! Luna Queen, mercy! She ordered me to get Wolfsbane from outside and mix it into her water. I was only following orders, Alpha King!” He slammed his forehead against the floor. Silence crashed through the room. Seraphina let out a theatrical sob and rushed to Alaric’s side. “Sister… today is my mating day with Alaric. I know you’re upset, but you can’t hurt yourself to win his attention.” Alaric’s body went rigid. He turned slowly, his gaze locking onto mine. “Elara. Is what he’s saying true?” I shook my head instinctively. “I didn’t. I—” “Enough! The evidence is clear. You still want to lie? Elara, I always thought you were just cold. I never realized you were this vicious. You wanted to die? I’ll make sure you live a long, miserable life instead. Maybe you’ll learn something.” He took a breath, then snapped out orders. “By my command as Alpha King: Elara is guilty of deception. Effective immediately, she’s confined to the Luna’s Quarters. No one enters or leaves without my direct permission. Remove all her privileges—food rations, healers, everything. Let her reflect on her sins.” He didn’t look at me again. Just wrapped his arm around Seraphina’s waist and strode out. At the threshold, Seraphina glanced back. She was pretending to wipe tears, but I caught the smirk curling her lips. The door slammed shut. I collapsed back onto the bed. Fine. No healers. No food. That works. If I slowly starved to death like this, wouldn’t that still count as dying by his order? After all, it was his decree. Maybe the System would accept it. I would got that a hundred million dollars and got back to my world. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to ignore the lingering pain in my body, and waited for death to come again. But I underestimated this werewolf body’s resilience. Day after day, I suffered. But somehow, impossibly, I started to heal.

When I could finally stand without collapsing, I stumbled outside, desperate for sunlight. The Pack House was decorated everywhere—banners, flowers, ribbons. Almost obscenely festive. I grabbed a passing omega maid. “What’s… what’s the celebration for?” My voice came out raspy. She yanked her arm away irritably. “Mistress Elara, have you lost your mind locked up in there? The Luna Queen is pregnant! The Alpha King is overjoyed—he’s pardoning prisoners across all territories and throwing a feast in the gardens tonight! I’m busy collecting my bonus, so don’t hold me up!” She fled like I had a disease. I stood frozen. Then an unexpected surge of excitement rushed through me. This was perfect. A territory-wide celebration feast. If I caused a scene—attacked the Alpha King in front of everyone—he’d kill me for sure. Grinning to myself, I turned to head back and prepare. But just outside the Luna’s Quarters, Beta Silas appeared, bowing low. “Mistress, the Alpha King’s orders: in consideration of your years together, you’re permitted to attend tonight’s feast. He’s sent you clothing and jewelry. Please dress appropriately.” Behind him, two servants carried forward several boxes. I stared at the fabric they unfolded. A memory crashed into me, unbidden. Years ago, during a pack hunt, I’d taken a blade meant for Alaric. As I bled out on the forest floor, he’d knelt beside me, fingers tracing the wisteria embroidery on my torn dress. “Elara, hold on. Just hold on. When you wake up, I’ll give you everything you love. Everything.” I ran my fingers over the embroidery now. So he remembered. Too bad. Too late. I didn’t want to remember anymore. After changing into the dress, I slipped a small silver dagger up my sleeve. The feast hall blazed with light and noise. Seraphina sat in the Luna’s seat, radiant in gold. When she saw me enter, something dark flickered in her eyes. But she plastered on a smile. “You came! Quickly, prepare a seat for Mistress Elara.” I took my place below the high table, hand wrapped tight around the dagger hidden in my sleeve, scanning for the right moment. Then Alaric arrived. I tensed, ready to lunge. Ready to end this. But everything went wrong in an instant.

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Half a year after I died filled with hatred and resentment, my ex-girlfriend Sophia and her childhood friend Chris both died one after another and arrived in Hell. Chris shielded Sophia’s trembling body behind him, screaming hysterically at the Gates of Hell. “How could we have fallen to a place like this?” “All these years we’ve helped the poor, donated to schools, contributed to disaster relief. We’ve done countless good deeds! After death, we should have ascended to Heaven!” “It must be that bastard Julian playing tricks! Even in death, he’s dragging us down with him! Call him out here-I want to confront him face to face!” The Wardens flipped through the Book of Judgment and laughed mockingly. “Julian? He ascended to Paradise long ago. He’ll never enter the cycle of reincarnation again!” “Julian is in Paradise? How is that possible? That beast didn’t go to Hell?” “Your Honor, the records in this Book of Judgment must be wrong!” Sophia, nestled in Chris’s arms, cried tears streaming down her face. “We were devoted to charity in life and never committed evil deeds. You must investigate this thoroughly!” The surrounding thousands of dead souls were drawn by the commotion, and discussions rose one after another. One ghost glared with wide eyes. “I know Julian! To embezzle his parents’ inheritance, he personally murdered his own biological parents!” “He was jealous of his younger brother Chris’s successful career, so he bribed hackers to alter company accounts and spread rumors that Chris had fled with the money, causing a thriving enterprise to nearly go bankrupt overnight!” “Sophia funded the elderly and orphans, and founded Hope Elementary Schools-she’s a well-known philanthropist!” “Good people are wrongly punished while evil people roam free in Heaven-is there any justice left in this world? We must get justice today!” In hell, I was also quite the notorious villain, so these newly arrived ghosts all knew about my deeds. Seeing the crowd growing increasingly agitated, the Wardens sighed softly. “Since you all claim injustice, then let’s watch Julian’s testimony left behind in Hell.” As light and shadow shifted, a mirror suddenly appeared before everyone. The skeletal, emaciated me sat quietly in the judgment seat, playing with the faded red cord wrapped around my wrist. What follows is my testimony. Sophia and I had known each other since childhood-everyone acknowledged us as childhood sweethearts. In middle school, when thugs cornered Sophia in an alley, I grabbed a wooden stick from the roadside and charged forward. The stick eventually broke, leaving a deep gash on my hand. On my eighteenth birthday, she personally wove me a red cord bracelet, saying she would always stay by my side. In college, when she had acute appendicitis, I set up a cot in the hospital corridor and stayed by her side day and night. When she was afraid of injections, I’d tell her jokes in every way I could think of to coax her. When her business venture failed, I secretly sold my beloved car and rushed the money to her overnight. Those days were hard, but just seeing her smile made everything worthwhile. Speaking of these memories, a hint of a smile appeared on my originally dim face. We used to be so beautiful, so happy. We were a model couple that made others envious. Everyone was certain we would be together forever, until we grew old together. Outside the mirror, Sophia seemed to also sink into those beautiful times, her eyes reddening as she watched the scene. Chris’s face grew increasingly ugly. He gripped her hand tightly and forced a smile. “Sophia, if I’d known you two were this close, I shouldn’t have confessed to you. I should have buried this love in my heart.” “It’s all in the past. Besides, I fell in love with you first. You did nothing wrong. Don’t take all the blame on yourself.” Sophia leaned into his embrace, comforting him with heartache. They kissed recklessly, while I continued narrating my short-lived life.

That year in late autumn, Father brought home a young man, saying he was an illegitimate son who had been separated from the family twenty years ago. His birth mother had died last month in a small town. The boy inherited the family’s asthma condition and came looking for us as a last resort. Mother smashed the cup in her hand, hysterically questioning him about years of deception. But when she saw the boy’s paper-white face as he curled up in the entryway coughing violently, she eventually softened. She turned and silently prepared the guest room. This young man named Chris became my brother from that day on. When he first arrived, he always wore a T-shirt washed until it was nearly white. He always kept his head down when speaking. I felt pity for him and shared half of everything I owned with him. Even when servants spoke harshly to him, I would stand up for him. Later, I brought Chris to meet Sophia for the first time. He accidentally knocked over a coffee cup. The coffee splashed onto Sophia’s skirt. Chris frantically wiped it with his sleeve, his eyes welling up with mist as he kept apologizing. Seeing his pitiful appearance, Sophia didn’t know what to say. Later, the three of us often went out together, and Sophia gradually grew accustomed to it. She would proactively bring Chris limited edition snacks. When we hiked mountains, she’d carry his backpack for him. She even prepared matching couple’s watches for both of us on my birthday. I watched her gentle profile as she tied Chris’s shoelaces, and my heart felt like it was stuffed with damp cotton. Sophia laughed helplessly. “You petty. you’re jealous even of this? We’re taking care of a sick person, isn’t that okay?” Until Mother suddenly died from a heart attack due to overwork. On the night, I held Mother’s portrait and sobbed uncontrollably. Sophia held me in her arms, softly comforting me. But when I went to get Mother’s favorite silk scarf, I stumbled upon a suffocating scene in the storage room- Sophia had Chris pinned against the wall, her burning kiss falling on his pale lips. “Sophia… Julian is still outside…” Chris’s hoarse voice trembled. “I can’t wait anymore.” Sophia gripped the back of his neck. “Tomorrow I’ll tell him. What I’ve always wanted… is you…” The bronze lamps in Hell flickered bright and dim. The Judge’s gavel fell heavily. “Breaking vows, cheating, defilement before the deceased-three crimes combined!” Sophia raised her head, her eyes defiant. “A promise from ten years ago was just childish talk! Meeting Chris made me realize what soul mate is. Should I trap three people’s lives for the sake of so-called responsibility?” Chris also began defending himself. “Why should people who truly love each other suffer this punishment? Your Honor, have you ever experienced the pain of loving someone you can’t have?” The spectating ghosts began whispering among themselves. “It’s normal for young people to change their hearts. Life is so long-who can be certain the person in front of them is the one they’ll spend their life with?” “Moreover, Sophia loved the wrong person to begin with. If she’d kept loving Julian, who knows how he would have abused her!” “Right, cheating is wrong, but compared to the unconscionable things Julian did later, this little mistake is nothing.” In the dim underworld, the sounds of condemnation gradually drowned out the Judge’s reprimands.

The Judge paid no attention to them, merely having the Wardens continue playing my testimony. It was a dusk of pouring rain. I had not only lost my only support-Mother-but was also personally pushed into the abyss by my most trusted girlfriend, Sophia. Despair rose like a tide, flooding over my head. I became volatile and obsessive. Facing Father who had suddenly brought home his illegitimate son Chris, I sneered and mocked him all day long. When Chris shed crocodile tears in front of me, I directly overturned the tea table and told him to get lost. Even Sophia, who once said she would protect me forever, had now become a traitor in my eyes. The chaotic scenes at home quickly became known to everyone. Neighbors pointed at my spine, saying the Sterling family had produced a arrogant devil who thought himself above everyone. Looking back now, Sophia’s words really hit a nerve-I was indeed like a beast raised in an iron cage. I’d never even stepped onto a real battlefield, yet thought baring my fangs and claws made me fierce. I was nothing more than a tiger with its claws pulled out, floundering pathetically in the mud. Mother’s seventh day memorial had barely passed when Father grandly held a recognition banquet for Chris at a luxury hotel. That day, Chris wore an Italian custom suit and greeted to the guests holding champagne-every bit the most proper heir of the Sterling family. I was locked in the attic, watching the brilliant lights outside the window, smashing every piece of porcelain I could get my hands on. Just then, Chris appeared leisurely. He dangled the jade signet ring Mother had left for me, sneering that I was just lucky to have been born well. “If it weren’t for your mother interfering back then, my mother and I should have walked through the Sterling family’s front door openly long ago.” He suddenly released his grip. The crisp sound of the ring hitting the floor startled me back half a step. Then he staggered and rolled down the spiral staircase, his pale face flushing with an unnatural redness. He clutched his chest, gasping violently, calling out intermittently: “Julian… stealing the ring is one thing, but why… why did you push me! My asthma medication… is upstairs…” When Father rushed in, I had no way to defend myself. He gripped my wrist until his veins bulged, saying Chris had suffered from severe asthma since childhood-this was deliberate murder of my own brother. Sophia, her eyes red, pinned me against the wall, her nails digging deep into my arm. “Julian Sterling, if Chris die today, I’ll make you pay with your life!” That night, Sophia somehow gathered a group of thugs and cornered me in a dark alley. They pressed my head against the wall, fists and feet raining down on me like hail. Sophia stood under the streetlight watching coldly, occasionally kicking me twice. “That’s for bullying Chris! Do you know how much he suffers when his condition flares up? Beat him to death-I’ll take responsibility if anything happens!” I curled up on the ground, feeling like my ribs were about to be kicked in. Warm blood flowed from the corner of my mouth down my throat. They only left cursing when I passed out. Lying in the hospital, I stared at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling and suddenly remembered what Mother had said: The most terrifying thing in this world isn’t demons-it’s the human heart. Your Honor, if there’s truly justice in this world, can you see the buried truth?

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The night before the wedding, my fiancé Ryan brought his sick first love, Chloe, home. “Evelyn, I’m only staying with her for three days. Three days, and then I’ll be your groom—yours and no one else’s.” He told me it was a “farewell tradition” where he was from—that before a man got married, he had to live with his first love for three days. And I was expected to accept it. I let out a short, derisive laugh. No screaming, no tears. Just one calm word. “Fine.” Over those three days, I watched every intimate moment play out on Chloe’s social media. When the three days were up and the wedding was about to begin, Ryan showed up with Chloe on his arm. “You’ve already put up with these three days—so just let Chloe have the ceremony. It’s only a formality.” “After it’s over, you’ll still be my wife.” Then came the wedding night. Ryan strode into the bridal suite surrounded by his friends, only to find a stranger lying on the marriage bed. As every jaw in the room hit the floor, I settled myself in the man’s arms and smiled faintly. “Oh, I forgot to mention—my family has a tradition too. On the wedding night, the bride sleeps with her first love right in front of her husband.” . . . . . . Eight years ago, I’d turned my back on my family for Ryan. I’d made him my entire world. We’d been together eight years, and we were finally talking about marriage. The day we traveled to his hometown to discuss the wedding details, his mother brought a woman to meet me. She wore a champagne-colored gown, red hair spilling over her shoulders, and when she smiled, she looked like a rose cultivated with painstaking care in a greenhouse. Ryan’s mother held the woman’s hand, her tone as warm and familiar as if she were introducing her own daughter. “Evelyn, this is Chloe Bennett. She and Ryan were inseparable growing up. She was his first love.” I froze. Then his mother continued: “We have an old tradition here. Before a man gets married, he spends three days alone with his first love. A proper farewell to the past.” I thought I’d misheard. “I’m sorry—what?” Ryan’s mother’s smile didn’t waver. “Don’t be nervous. It’s just tradition. After three days, Ryan will come back to you with a clean slate.” It was so absurd it was almost funny. I looked at Ryan, waiting for him to object. But all he did was frown slightly, as though I were being difficult. “Evelyn, we’re just living under the same roof for three days. Don’t make it into something dirty. Chloe came back from overseas specifically to see me get married. She’s not well. I don’t want her to leave with regrets.” “So?” I asked. Ryan stepped closer and lowered his voice. “You’re always telling me you love me. Then respect my family. Respect how things are done here.” On cue, Chloe let out a delicate cough, her eyes reddening at the corners. “Evelyn, if it bothers you, I can leave right now. I probably shouldn’t have come back anyway.” Ryan’s head snapped toward her instantly. “Don’t be ridiculous. This will always be your home.” Then he turned back to me. The tenderness he’d shown Chloe vanished in an instant, replaced by impatience and warning. “Evelyn, you’ve been with me for eight years. This is a small thing. You can handle it, right?” A small thing. He called this a small thing. I stood in that living room draped with white tulle and floral garlands, my gaze sweeping over the engagement photo on the mantelpiece and the wedding invitations scattered across the coffee table, and suddenly the whole thing felt like a fever dream. In that moment, I understood. This wasn’t tradition. This was a humiliation they’d designed just for me. Everyone was watching. Ryan’s relatives, his friends—and Chloe. She tilted her head slightly, studying me with something close to pity, a faint smile playing at the corner of her lips. They were all waiting for me to break down. Waiting for the tears, the hysterics, waiting for me to lose my mind and demand answers like some unhinged woman. But I just smiled. “Fine.” Ryan looked genuinely stunned. “You’re agreeing to this?” “You said it’s tradition.” I held his gaze. “Of course I should respect that.” Ryan let out a breath of relief. He even reached up and stroked my hair. “I knew you’d be the reasonable one.” Reasonable. For eight years, that word had been a collar around my neck. Because I was reasonable, I’d cut ties with my family for him. I’d stood by him through the worst days of building his company. Because I was reasonable, he’d pushed me to give ground again and again. And now he wanted me to hand my fiancé over to another woman’s bed with my own two hands. That night, Ryan didn’t come back to the hotel with me. He took his luggage and went to Chloe’s villa. Before he left, he kissed my forehead. “I’ll be there on time for the wedding. Don’t overthink things.” I nodded, still smiling. “Okay.” What he didn’t know was that I had a phone call to make too. When the line connected, a low, deep voice came through the receiver. “Evelyn?” I gazed at the darkening sky in the distance. “Sebastian, you once told me that if I ever needed you, you’d be there.” Two seconds of silence on the other end. Then he said: “I always have been.” I closed my eyes. “Then come to my wedding.” Over the next three days, Ryan didn’t call once. Didn’t send a single text. Not one. We’d been together eight years—more than two thousand nine hundred days and nights. There was a time when even a single day on a business trip meant three phone calls home, terrified I wasn’t eating well or sleeping enough. Now he was living in another woman’s house, and he couldn’t spare me so much as a goodnight. For three full days, I didn’t exist. The night before the wedding, I tracked them down at a private bar. Before I even pushed open the door to the private room, the noise spilled through the cracks. “Ryan, you’ve really got it made, don’t you? Reliving the glory days with your first love before the wedding, then going home to the wife afterward—best of both worlds!” “Chloe’s been back three days and Ryan looks ten years younger!”

I pushed the door open. The laughter cut off like someone had flipped a switch. Ryan was half-reclined on a leather banquette, Chloe nestled in his arms, her finger hooked around his tie—the easy intimacy of lovers drunk on each other. When she saw me appear, Chloe didn’t so much as flinch. She just lifted her eyelids lazily. Ryan sat up a little straighter, though his expression held less alarm than annoyance—the look of a man whose evening had been interrupted. “Evelyn? What are you doing here?” His brow creased almost imperceptibly. I stood in the doorway, my voice flat. “Did I kill the mood?” Chloe immediately straightened up, her eyes reddening with perfect precision. “Evelyn, I’m sorry—are we making you uncomfortable?” One of Ryan’s friends jumped in to smooth things over. “Evelyn, don’t get the wrong idea. Ryan and Chloe are just catching up—it’s the tradition here. A formal goodbye to the past so he can fully commit to the new marriage.” Another one chimed in with a grin. “Besides, this pre-wedding farewell thing is actually pretty romantic. Once you’re married, Ryan’s all yours!” I looked at Ryan. “Is that how you see it too?” Ryan took a sip of his drink. “Evelyn, don’t embarrass me here.” I smiled. So the one who’d humiliated me was afraid I’d embarrass him. Chloe spoke up softly. “Ryan, is tonight the last time we’ll get to relax like this?” Someone immediately started egging them on. “Last night together—come on, one kiss! When you two broke up eight years ago, we all thought it was such a shame.” The whole room erupted. Ryan glanced at me. I stood there, expressionless, making no move to stop anything. So he smiled, turned his head. Chloe leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck. The two of them kissed right in front of me. Tongues intertwining, breath mingling, as if I simply didn’t exist. The room exploded with whistles and cheers. I cut through the spectacle. “Ryan, I came to remind you—the wedding is tomorrow. Be there on time.” I turned and walked toward the door. Behind me, one of Ryan’s friends shouted loud enough for the whole building to hear: “Ryan, Evelyn’s got to be the most easygoing woman alive! She watched you kiss another girl and didn’t even make a scene?” Then I heard Ryan’s voice—dripping with the kind of smug, careless satisfaction that turned my stomach. “Well, obviously. Evelyn’s been with me all these years. She was even willing to go through a sterilization procedure for me. A little scene like this? She can handle it.” I stopped in the doorway, my spine rigid. The deepest, most painful scar of my life—reduced to a boast over drinks. In eight years, I’d lost too much for Ryan. I was once the only daughter of the Carter family. My father had already chosen the most suitable match for me. But I’d torn my family apart for Ryan. Back then, he’d held me and said: “Evelyn, I’ll make sure you never regret choosing me.” Later, I got pregnant three times. The first time, we were still in college. Ryan said the timing was wrong. I gritted my teeth through the pain and went to the clinic. The second time, his company was on the verge of bankruptcy. I spent every waking hour helping him court investors, and the baby slipped away during my most exhausted days. The third time, it was ectopic. Massive hemorrhaging. I was rushed to the ER and lost a fallopian tube permanently. The doctor said my chances of conceiving again were slim. Ryan had wept by my hospital bed, nearly inconsolable. He’d said: “Evelyn, I just need you to be alive.” But now, he was using my scars as proof of how devoted I was. A woman who could no longer bear children—what choice did she have but to stay by his side? What other man would want her? He was certain of this. His friends’ laughter still echoed behind me as I walked out of the bar. Back at the hotel, I got a call from Ryan. “You’re not actually mad about what happened at the bar, are you?” His tone was breezy, almost teasing. “No.” “Evelyn, this sudden obedience of yours—I’m almost not used to it.” He laughed, then shifted gears. “Relax. Chloe is the past for me—” His words were cut short by a breathy moan. “Ryan—” It was Chloe’s voice, the final syllable stretching out, soft and lingering. “You promised tonight was the last indulgence. Don’t get distracted.” Ryan quickly lowered his voice. “All right, Evelyn, I have to go. Be a good girl and wait for me tomorrow. I promise I’ll be on time.” The line went dead. I didn’t cry that night. I didn’t even lose sleep. When I picked up my phone the next morning, I saw that Chloe had posted a Story. “Eight years apart, and he says my body still drives him crazy. We didn’t stop all night.” The photos left nothing to the imagination—tangled legs, sheets twisted into a thousand wrinkles. I looked at it, then calmly locked the screen. Then I got up, did my makeup, and put on my wedding dress. As I was about to leave for the venue, my phone lit up again. A text message. [I’m here.] I replied: [See you in the bridal suite.]

On the day of the wedding, Ryan didn’t show up until twenty minutes before the ceremony. And when he arrived, Chloe was right behind him. My maid of honor, Mia, stood beside me, trembling with rage. “Evelyn, has he lost his mind? He brought that woman to your wedding?” I said nothing. His pack of friends immediately swarmed him—hugs, backslaps, catcalls. “Ryan, word is you went all night… Think you’ve got any energy left for Evelyn tonight?” The knowing looks and suggestive tones of men speaking in code sent a flush across Chloe’s face, and she ducked behind Ryan. Ryan laughed right away. “All right, that’s enough.” The group erupted again, loud enough to shake the rafters. Ryan and Chloe exchanged a smile, and only then did his gaze drift past the crowd to find me. He paused, just slightly. “Evelyn, you look beautiful today.” He walked toward me and reached up to brush a stray hair from my temple. I stepped back half a pace. His hand hung in the air for a moment, then dropped naturally to his side, as though nothing had happened. “Ignore them—nothing happened last night.” He lowered his voice. “Chloe had a stomach thing this morning, it took a while to sort out. That’s why I’m late.” I didn’t respond. Chloe followed him over. Only then did I see that she’d done herself up with meticulous makeup and a tailored white dress—she looked more like the bride than I did. She came toward me smiling, looping her arm through Ryan’s, her tone so familiar she might as well have been the star of the show. “Congratulations, you two! I came specially to witness your happy moment.” When I said nothing, Ryan stepped in to explain. “Chloe insisted on coming to see the venue this morning. Don’t worry—the three days are done. From now on, we’ll keep our distance.” Keep our distance. He actually had the nerve to use those words. That was when Chloe turned her attention to my wedding dress. “That gown really suits you. Very… simple.” She paused, as if the thought had only just occurred to her. “Although… I remember Ryan used to say that if he ever got married, he’d give his bride the most extravagant wedding the whole city had ever seen.” She looked at Ryan with a smile. “I guess people really do change.” The air around us went quiet. Ryan cleared his throat awkwardly. “That was just talk. We were young.” I didn’t call him out. This entire wedding had been arranged by Ryan’s family. They said the budget was tight. They said there was no need for extravagance. They said if I really loved Ryan, I shouldn’t care about appearances. But I knew money wasn’t the problem. They just didn’t want to spend it on me. Before the ceremony, a slideshow began playing on the big screen—photos of Ryan and me. From college to now, eight years laid out like a long-overdue reckoning. Chloe watched the screen for a while, then her eyes reddened right on schedule, her voice trembling with practiced precision. “Ryan, I’m so envious of Evelyn.” She wasn’t looking at him. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but pitched just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “The doctors say I have lupus. I might not have much time left. The biggest regret of my life is that I never got to wear a wedding dress. Never got to marry the man I loved most.” Ryan whipped around to look at her, his eyes overflowing with heartache. “Chloe…” She shook her head. “I’m fine. Today belongs to you and Evelyn. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Ryan was silent for a few seconds. Then he turned to me abruptly. “Evelyn.” He gripped my hand, his voice edging toward a plea. “Chloe might never get the chance to be married. Why don’t we… let her take your place for the ceremony today?” Mia couldn’t hold back any longer. She shot to her feet. “Ryan, are you out of your mind? This is your wedding to Evelyn! You can’t just hand it to someone else! Are you marrying Chloe or are you marrying Evelyn?” Ryan frowned. “It’s just the ceremony. Legally, the woman I’m marrying is still Evelyn.” He looked at me with the certainty of a man who’d never been told no. “Evelyn, Chloe is seriously ill. I just want to help her fulfill a wish.” I held his gaze, and in that moment I wanted so badly to ask him— What about my wish? I wanted to marry a man who respected me. A man who loved me. Had he fulfilled that wish? Ryan grew more and more uneasy under my stare. Then Chloe spoke up. “Forget it, Ryan.” She hung her head, showing only the tear-streaked curve of her profile. “Don’t make Evelyn upset because of me.” “After all… I’m dying anyway…” Ryan caved instantly. He squeezed my hand, practically swearing an oath. “She’ll just walk through the motions, but I promise—tonight, on our wedding night, it’ll be you. Evelyn, you made it through these three days. What’s one more hour?” Ryan’s voice was coaxing, but in those eyes I saw no remorse, no unease—only certainty. He was certain I’d say yes, just as I had every single time over the past eight years. The guests were already murmuring among themselves, watching me with a mix of pity and amusement. I looked down and smoothed my skirt. Then I smiled. “Fine.” Ryan exhaled with relief, and something that might have been genuine guilt flickered in his eyes. “Good girl. Thank you. You’re the best wife I could ask for.” “Go wait in the room for me. I’ll come find you as soon as the ceremony’s over.” He leaned in to embrace me. I kept my smile and pushed him away. “Don’t mention it.” Because from this moment on, this wedding had nothing to do with me. If he wanted so badly to complete the ceremony with Chloe, then I’d give them the whole stage. I turned and walked into the bridal suite, the train of my gown trailing behind me, and shut the door. I picked up my phone and sent one message: “You can come now.”

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The day I left the Frank family, Godfather Fabian drove through three border checkpoints trying to stop my car from reaching the airport. He didn’t succeed. His texts came in like a barrage of gunfire: “What the hell are you doing? All because Nydia was joking around and your hand got broken?” “I’ve told you a hundred times—Nydia’s father died saving my life. She grew up with me. I know she doesn’t mean any harm. You’re my wife. You’re the Godmother of the Frank family. Can you please act like it?” “Michelle, stop throwing tantrums like a child. You have one hour. Get back here. Now.” For days, every time I blocked a number, he’d find a new one to call from. Eventually I had no choice but to swap out my SIM card entirely, severing every last thread connecting me to the Godfather. Two years later, I returned to New York for a friend’s birthday. I’d barely stepped out of the airport when I ran into a member of the Frank family. He asked me, “Godmother, it’s been two years. Surely you’ve cooled off enough to come back and make up with the Godfather?” “After you left, he never looked at another woman. He’s been waiting for you this whole time.” … I listened to all of it and felt nothing. Because in the three years I was married to Fabian, I was sick for every single one of them. By the third year, a sudden neurological episode caused me to fall—my arm dislocated, my fingers shattered in multiple places. Forget my dream of becoming a pianist. I couldn’t even feed myself. When I was at my most wretched, ravaged by pain and illness, Fabian did stay by my side day and night, taking care of me. That much was true. Then I heard that a brilliant surgeon was visiting New York, and for the first time in a long while, a spark of hope flickered in my chest. I wanted Fabian to take me, but he was swamped with work, so I went to the consultation alone. After reviewing the thick stack of medical records I’d brought, the surgeon looked puzzled. “Ms. Michelle, your reports indicate that your current inability to move your hand isn’t caused by the fractures. Nor is it neurological.” “Rather, it appears that prolonged use of psychiatric medication impaired your judgment, leading to the accidental fall. After the injury, you were administered a drug that suppresses recovery over an extended period, compounded by improper rehabilitation.” His fingertip came to rest on the attending physician’s signature at the top of the most recent file. The look he gave me was loaded with meaning. “I’d suggest you switch doctors. Better yet, switch hospitals entirely.” I stared at the name of the attending physician—Nydia—and felt as though I’d been struck by lightning. She was Fabian’s adopted sister. No blood relation. For three years, she had been treating me at my husband Fabian’s request. My vision went black in waves. I stumbled out of the clinic, and my first instinct was to tell Fabian—Nydia was trying to destroy me. I went straight to the administrative building in the city center. I was about to go in when I heard an old lieutenant’s voice just inside the door: “If the Godmother keeps taking the medication Nydia prescribed, she may never be able to pursue her dream again. She’ll be half-crippled for life. Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Fabian’s voice followed, tinged with resignation: “Nydia probably saw me doing rehab with Michelle and got jealous again. The wrong medication—that’s just her throwing a fit. If Michelle’s hand ends up useless, I’ll take care of her for the rest of her life. She’s my Godmother. I can protect her.” He paused, as if trying to justify himself: “Nydia’s father died saving me. Back then, I promised I’d marry her when we grew up. But then I fell in love with Michelle at first sight and couldn’t keep that promise. I already owe Nydia more than I can repay.” “As long as it makes her feel better—whatever treatment plan she writes, I’ll go along with it.” Fabian’s words were a blade, and they shredded my heart to pieces. All this time, I’d thought I was simply unlucky—injured the day before my performance, then taking medication for so long, doing rehabilitation for so long, only to get worse instead of better. I’d felt guilty for burdening Fabian. Felt bad for troubling Nydia. But it had all been their doing. Together. I slammed the door open. The moment my eyes met his, scorching tears spilled down my face. “Why?” Fabian flinched, then quickly regained his composure. “Michelle, knowing about this isn’t going to help your recovery.” “Besides, as long as I’m here, even if you end up disabled, you’ll never be mistreated. I promise you that.” I could barely believe what I was hearing. My dream of playing piano—gone. My hand—useless. I could barely manage to eat on my own. From a golden girl to a broken woman, pitied and mocked by everyone around me. And he dismissed it all with a few easy words? I said nothing. I just turned around on instinct. I had no doubt—damn Fabian would sacrifice everything I had, my future, even my life, for his so-called “promise,” his so-called guilt. But the moment I turned to leave, his man Jack stepped into my path. “Enough, Michelle. Everyone in the Frank family knows how important Nydia is to me. No matter what you say or do, they’ll just think the medication’s gotten to your head and you’re talking nonsense.” “Just cooperate, and our life together will stay as happy as it’s always been. I’ll even tell Nydia to ease up—it won’t hurt as much anymore. Okay?” “Oh—and leave the examination report you’re holding. That kind of thing could hurt Nydia’s reputation.” Jack stepped forward on cue to grab it. I fought back with everything I had. No matter how I begged, Fabian didn’t move. He even gave Jack a look that said hurry up. When I wouldn’t let go, Jack pried my fingers open one by one. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the room alongside my screams. Because of the drugs I’d been given, my bones hadn’t healed the way a normal person’s would. And my hand had only just begun to show the faintest signs of improvement. This kind of second injury would destroy it for good. But Fabian only cared about the report now in his hands. He fed it straight into the office shredder without hesitation. I lifted my head with what strength I had left and met Fabian’s gaze—faintly disgusted, as if I were the one being unreasonable. My chest felt stuffed with cotton, swelling until I could barely breathe. Fabian sighed, then scooped me up gently into his arms. “Sweetheart, you understand, don’t you?” “I just owe Nydia too much.” He leaned in to kiss me. I turned my head away. Before I could say another word, the surge of emotion and pain dragged me under, and I blacked out. My last conscious thought was drenched in despair: So this is what he calls love. — That night, I spiked a fever and slipped into a coma. Half a day of emergency treatment. Another day in the ICU. When I finally opened my eyes, the doctor exhaled slowly and shook his head. “Godmother, your hand had just started to improve. After this… I’m afraid conventional treatment won’t be enough anymore.” I closed my eyes. All that remained inside me was a vast, dead silence. With the nurse’s help, I dialed the number of Fabian’s grandfather—the former Godfather, Keith. “Grandpa Keith.” My voice was raw, but perfectly calm. “I accept your deal. I’ll divorce Fabian and leave him. For good.”

Old Godfather Keith was overjoyed. For the first time, there was a smile in his voice when he spoke to me: “Once you’re gone, Fabian will settle down and come back to take over the family from me. He’ll stop wasting his days poring over useless medical textbooks for your sake.” “I’ll have the dissolution agreement sent over right away. One month from now, as we agreed, I’ll arrange for you to go to a rehabilitation center in Europe—and you’ll receive one hundred million.” It wasn’t long before Keith’s butler arrived and handed me a document. I signed without hesitation. The next day, Nydia had Fabian bring me to the operating room under the guise of an “experimental treatment.” When I drifted back to consciousness, I saw Nydia’s true face for the first time—stripped of its gentle mask. “What the hell did you do, you bitch! Fabian says he’s going to keep his distance from me from now on!” I could only marvel at the absurdity. Three years of marriage, and now Fabian decided to put some distance between them. I was about to speak when I met Nydia’s eyes—half-crazed, unhinged. She glared at me through gritted teeth, her gaze burning with a jealousy so fierce it frightened me. She turned around and rummaged through something on the table. When she turned back, one hand held a thick syringe filled with silver liquid and a scalpel; the other gripped a hammer. She looked deranged. “I’m going to teach you a lesson today, you worthless whore.” I tried to run, only to realize I couldn’t move. I was a fish on a cutting board. That’s when it came back to me—when I’d first been brought in, still groggy, Nydia must have injected me with something. She walked toward me, smiling, step by step. First, she drove the thick needle into my arm again and again until blood ran freely. Then she took the scalpel and carved lines across my entire body. Finally, she picked up the hammer, aimed it at my hand—the swelling had only just gone down—and brought it crashing down. I didn’t even have time to scream before the pain dragged me into darkness. When I woke again, my wounds had been neatly treated and both hands were back in casts. I spent three more days in the ICU. Fabian sat vigil at my bedside, guilt and heartache written all over his face. But before I could get a word out, he handed me a phone. “This is an apology video Nydia recorded.” “What she did this time was admittedly a bit much. I’ve already talked to her about it—she knows she was wrong. She’s still young, that’s all. Too impulsive. You’re her sister-in-law and the Godmother. Be the bigger person and forgive her, won’t you?” Watching Nydia’s radiant smile and smug eyes in the video, listening to a voice devoid of any real remorse, I felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head, chilling me to the bone. I lifted my gaze to Fabian, dazed. I wanted to raise my hands. I wanted him to see my wounds, to understand that Nydia’s hollow “apology” meant nothing—nothing—compared to the agony wracking my entire body. But he couldn’t read the devastation in my eyes. He assumed I was simply being difficult. His brow furrowed, his tone edged with irritation. “Michelle, can you grow up? Stop being unreasonable!” I looked up in disbelief. He knew perfectly well that Nydia had done this to me, and yet he still took her side, blamed me, and demanded I forgive her. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. “You two conspired to torture me! Why should I forgive—” Fabian cut me off, his voice cold as steel. “Michelle! Making accusations like that is not how a Godmother behaves. Jack—enforce house rules.” Jack hauled me upright, and his open palm struck my face. Then a second time. A third. As the fourth blow was about to land— Fabian raised his hand to stop it. He cradled my face gently in both hands, slipping back into his usual tenderness. “Michelle, I’ve told you before—you’re the Godmother now. You can’t keep acting out like this. Consider this a lesson. And an apology to Nydia.” He pressed a soft kiss against my reddened, swollen cheek and sighed with what sounded like genuine weariness. “Let me go check on Nydia. The poor girl’s probably still scared you’re angry with her.” I wanted to laugh—a cold, bitter laugh—but I couldn’t even manage that. The twin torment of body and soul had stripped me of every last word. I watched Fabian hurry away, my eyes frozen over. Fabian, we’re done. — I spent another week in the ICU. After I was discharged, Nydia sent me a message: “Fabian’s throwing me a birthday party. You’re invited too!” “Make sure you come—I’ve got a surprise for you~” On the day of Nydia’s birthday celebration, Fabian dressed me in a gown, clasped the family heirloom bracelet around my wrist, and personally trimmed my disheveled hair. An outsider watching would have been certain the Godfather adored his Godmother. But I had already seen the photos Nydia posted on Instagram: the gown she wore had been commissioned from a master tailor by Fabian over a year ago, and the jewels draping her body were worth at least ten times mine. Fabian bent down and lifted me into his arms. I flinched, struggling instinctively. He turned uncharacteristically forceful. In the struggle, the wedding ring slipped from my finger and went clattering down the stairs, pinging against each step. A passing maid didn’t notice and stepped right on it. That ring—from the selection of the stone to every detail of its crafting—had been Fabian’s doing. It was supposed to be proof of his love. Now it lay crushed beneath a careless foot. Fabian barely glanced at it, his voice impatient. “Hurry up. We can’t keep Nydia waiting.” So that was where I stood. The symbol of our marriage couldn’t even compete with a few seconds of Nydia’s patience. A bitter ache filled my chest, and I had no strength left to fight. We arrived at the banquet hall shortly after. Nydia’s gaze fell on my plaster-bound hands, her eyes brimming with contempt. “Fabian, is Michelle’s hand getting any better?” Her tone dripped with concern; the malice underneath didn’t even try to hide. “Oh—I know this amazing dessert. Come with me to get some for Michelle.” She latched onto Fabian’s arm, cooing sweetly. Before I could open my mouth, Fabian was already setting me down with an indulgent smile, rushing off after Nydia without a backward glance. I stood there alone. Dozens of gazes landed on me—some startled, some mocking, some dripping with disdain.

“Look—the Godmother really is out of favor.” “I heard from a few people in the Frank family that Nydia seems more like the Godmother than Michelle does.” “Obviously. You could tell just from Fabian’s attitude earlier.” “I mean, who’d want a cripple for a wife?” Malice came at me from every direction. I stood there trembling, my face burning. This kind of humiliation—I’d already endured it once, three years ago at my own wedding. Back then, Nydia deliberately hid my wedding dress, and I had to walk down the aisle in a plain white sundress. And through three years of illness, through every mortifying moment, I’d survived. Now, hearing these whispers, all I felt was numb. Not far away, Nydia was tugging Fabian along as she unwrapped birthday presents. I silently clenched my fists. The man who had sworn to protect me countless times had abandoned me long ago… The banquet was lavish and extravagant—less like a birthday party and more like a celebration fit for a Godfather and Godmother. With a grand wave of his hand, Fabian presented Nydia with three gifts: A nomination for a prestigious medical award. A private hospital with her installed as director. And a totem ring—the symbol of the family’s matriarch. The ring he’d told me he would place on my finger himself once I recovered. Now firmly on Nydia’s hand. I couldn’t suppress a bitter, self-mocking curl of my lips—but I hadn’t meant to provoke Nydia. She couldn’t make a scene in front of everyone, so she waited until the intermission and cornered me as I came out of the restroom. “What are you smiling at! All you have is a marriage certificate! I’m telling you—Fabian will marry me sooner or later and cut you off for good!” I remained perfectly calm. “I think so too.” But my composure only enraged her further. Her brow knotted, her face flushed red in an instant, and she lunged at me like a madwoman, trying to shove me down the stairs. I took a wary step back, but she grabbed my arm viciously. The stabbing pain in my arm made me struggle on instinct. In the middle of the scuffle, Fabian happened to appear. Nydia’s eyes filled with tears instantly. She cried out, “Michelle, I’m sorry—please don’t push me!” Then she gritted her teeth and threw herself down the staircase. Pathetic acting. A clumsy frame job. But Fabian—clever as he was—believed it. “Nydia!” Shock and fury twisted his face. He flew down the stairs without a single glance at me—half my body already dangling over the railing, pulled outward by her momentum. “Fabian…” Helpless. Desperate. My voice echoed through the stairwell. No one answered. Minutes later, my strength gave out, and I fell from the third floor. I don’t know how long I was unconscious this time. When I finally opened my eyes again, there was no one at my bedside. Three days later, Fabian finally came to see me. He walked in and immediately launched into accusations: “Nydia just wanted to enjoy her birthday and share the happiness with you. Not only did you refuse her kindness, you deliberately pushed her down the stairs and made her bleed. That was completely out of line!” Out of line? The only thing out of line was marrying him in the first place. I turned my face away. I didn’t want to speak to him anymore. Perhaps the sight of me—wretched, wrapped head to toe in bandages—finally stirred something in him. Fabian sighed and sat down beside me. “I neglected you a little, and you got so jealous you pushed her down the stairs. That’s not how a Godmother carries herself… Nydia’s being gracious about it and doesn’t blame you. Once you’re feeling better, go apologize to her.” “I won’t.” The words came out before I could think. Fabian’s expression shifted. A flash of anger crossed his eyes. It settled into reproach: “You’re practically her elder. A young girl throws a tantrum—you rest for a few days, let your body heal on its own, and it’s no big deal.” Rest for a few days and it’s no big deal? I’d fallen from the third floor. Multiple compound fractures throughout my body. My arms devastated yet again. I could barely eat, could barely move—and he dismissed it with a single offhand sentence. I had no doubt that even if I’d died right in front of him that day, his only concern would have been that my blood had ruined Nydia’s birthday party. A man who had long since stopped loving me—no amount of suffering on my part could earn even a scrap of his attention. I didn’t want to waste my energy anymore. I swallowed the cold laugh rising to my lips. “Fine. I’ll go later. Now get out—I need to rest.” But Fabian didn’t stand. After a moment’s hesitation, he tightened his grip on my hand and spoke gently: “Michelle, there’s something I need your consent for…” “Nydia wants me to give her a child. To carry on the bloodline.” I froze for a moment, then spoke: “Whatever’s between you and her—you don’t need my permission.” As if my refusal would have stopped him anyway. Fabian, thinking I’d misunderstood, patiently explained: “Don’t worry, I won’t let you be wronged. The technology is very advanced now. Artificial insemination will allow Nydia to conceive without any issue.” I felt dizzy, disoriented. The man before me had transformed into someone I no longer recognized. “Fine.” My voice was flat. A person who has truly given up doesn’t have emotional ups and downs anymore. “That’s my girl.” Fabian nodded with satisfaction. “Now this is more like it. At least Nydia’s all-night effort preparing your new treatment plan wasn’t wasted on you.” He clapped his hands, and Nydia walked in. When I saw the medical equipment she wheeled in behind her, my eyes went wide with horror. I shrank back instinctively—but Fabian caught me.

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The swimming pool turned crimson. My son’s body floated to the surface, covered in holes. Blood leaked from everywhere—his arms, his legs, places I couldn’t even see yet. I dove in and dragged Leo to the edge. His swimsuit was writhing. Leeches. Hundreds of them. Someone had stuffed his trunks full of bloodsucking parasites before the race. The woman responsible stood poolside, laughing. Her son—the real culprit—slapped me across the face. Once. Twice. Ten times. “How dare a scholarship kid compete against the richest family in Manhattan?” She grabbed my hair, forcing me to my knees. “This is what happens when trash tries to climb above its station.” Her smile was venomous. “One word from me, and you’ll be exiled from New York society forever. Try me.” I raised an eyebrow. Since when did the sole heir to the Sterling fortune become a “charity case”? I wiped the blood from my lip and pulled out my phone. Speed-dial: my husband. “Richard,” I said calmly. “I heard a rumor that the Sterling family has a… bastard son. Is that true?” — A male voice answered. Not Richard’s. “Who the hell is this?” The assistant’s tone was sharp. “Mr. Ashford doesn’t have time for this. Vanguard Holdings will sue you into the ground if you keep harassing him.” I froze. Ten years of marriage. He didn’t even have my number saved. The voice on the other end kept yelling, but I wasn’t listening anymore. My eyes locked onto the woman’s wrist. A jade bracelet. Translucent green. My family heirloom. And the boy beside her—her son—was wearing the limited-edition watch I’d given Leo for his birthday. So that’s how it was. If I hadn’t come home early from my business trip, I never would’ve known. Richard had a mistress. And judging by the boy’s age—exactly Leo’s age—he’d been cheating since the day we conceived our son. He’d been eating at my table for a decade. Now he wanted to feast somewhere else. Fine. Let’s see how he likes his last meal. I hung up. The referee smirked. “What’s wrong? Realizing your little stunt didn’t work?” She gestured toward the mistress with exaggerated respect. “This is Simone, wife of Richard Ashford, CEO of Vanguard Holdings. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll pull your son from the competition right now.” The other parents chimed in. “Everyone knows Chase is the favorite to win. Why’s some scholarship brat even allowed in the pool?” “Honestly, I’m worried my kid will catch something just swimming near him. Poor people carry diseases, you know.” Their stares felt like knives. Leo trembled in my arms, his small body shaking. He clutched my sleeve, voice barely a whisper. “Mom, I didn’t do anything wrong. I just… I heard first place gets $500. I wanted to buy you a present.” His lips were white. “And if I get into the training program, it’s free. Room and board. You won’t have to spend money on me anymore.” My heart shattered. Three years ago, I left for Europe to handle overseas operations. Before I left, I explicitly told Richard: give Leo a $50,000 monthly allowance. And now my son was competing for five hundred dollars. Before Leo could finish speaking, a swim goggle flew through the air. It hit him square in the groin. Chase sneered. “My dad booked out the entire Ritz for my victory party tonight. You really thought you could steal my trophy?” Leo collapsed, curling into a ball. Simone and Chase exchanged a glance. Her smile turned predatory. “If your son wants attention so badly, let’s give him some.” She raised her hand. A pack of photographers surged forward, cameras flashing. One of them grinned. “‘Elementary School Swimmer Uses Leeches to Cheat—Story at Eleven.’ This is gonna trend for sure.” I stared at the flashing lights, my voice colder than ice. “Whichever outlet publishes a single photo will be erased from Manhattan by morning.” The authority in my tone made every camera freeze mid-click. Leo’s tears streamed down his face as he clutched himself, gasping in pain. “Mom… it hurts…” I pulled up his sleeve. The leeches had burrowed deep. Dozens of puncture wounds covered his skin. God only knew how much worse it was in the places I couldn’t see. My hands shook as I dialed. “Arthur,” I said quietly. “Leo’s been injured. I need the best trauma team in the city at this location. Now.” A pause. “And freeze all of Richard’s access to company assets. Bring him to me. I don’t care if you have to drag him.” Arthur’s voice was steady. “Understood, Miss Sterling. I’m en route.”

Before I could lower my phone, Simone slapped it out of my hand. She tilted her chin up, eyes filled with contempt. “Still trying to call for backup? Pathetic.” “You’re not leaving until you and your brat get on your knees and apologize to my son.” I laughed bitterly. “You attack my child, and you want us to apologize?” Chase crossed his arms, smug. “Everyone at school knows the rules. Anyone who crosses me crawls around the playground on all fours. Like a dog.” He looked at Leo, his smile cruel. “Your son’s the best at it, by the way. So obedient…” Leo whimpered and covered his head, his whole body trembling. I stroked his back, my voice soft. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here now. The doctors are coming.” Simone laughed. “Doctors? Let me show you what real power looks like.” She snapped her fingers. Within seconds, every road leading to the venue was blocked. Barricades. Security. Nothing in or out. Leo’s temperature spiked. Every second we waited, the leeches burrowed deeper into his flesh. My fury finally erupted. I slapped Simone across the face. “You gold-digging trash. You think you can block MY son from receiving medical care?” “The entire hospital network in this city is owned by the Sterling family. You have no authority here.” I raised my voice, addressing the crowd. “My name is Victoria Sterling. I am the true owner of Vanguard Holdings.” “If there are any medical professionals present, please help my son. The Sterling family will repay you generously.” Silence. No one moved. Simone recovered from the slap, her face twisted in rage. “What are you waiting for?! Grab her!” Seven bodyguards rushed me. Within seconds, I was pinned to the ground. Simone’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Make this bitch kowtow. Ninety-nine times. I want to hear her skull crack.” Thud. Thud. Thud. My forehead slammed into the tile floor again and again. Warm blood trickled into my eyes, blurring my vision. Simone pulled out her phone, her voice sickly sweet. “Honey? Someone’s bullying me. She says her name is—” Richard didn’t even let her finish. “I don’t care who she is. No one in this city can touch my wife and get away with it.” His voice was firm, protective. “Do whatever you want to her. I’ll handle the rest when I’m done with this meeting.” The crowd whispered, delighted. “Did you hear that? Mr. Ashford doesn’t even know who she is.” “She’s insane. Everyone knows Richard worships the ground Simone walks on. She’s done for.” Leo crawled toward Chase on his hands and knees, his voice breaking. “Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll be your dog. Just… don’t hurt my mom anymore…” Chase kicked him in the face. His shoe ground into Leo’s cheek. “Too late for begging now, loser.” A voice boomed from the entrance. “STOP!”

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Stellan Thorne walked into my law firm with his third pregnant mistress. And asked me to draft a property transfer agreement for her. His friends stood off to the side, taking bets on how many seconds it would take before I lost control. I didn’t say a word as the thick stack of papers printed out. Stellan pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice low. “Her body can’t handle the physical toll of labor.” “Ines. Once the babies are born, you’ll legally adopt them. You are the only Mrs. Thorne.” I slid the notarized trust agreement across the desk without a word. Out of professional habit, I gave him one last warning. “This is legally binding.” Stellan took the papers, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. He pushed divorce papers across the table toward me, his tone softening. “Sign it. It’s just a formality.” “She’s healthy enough to carry. Once the babies are born and you adopt them, the Board will stop breathing down your neck about being barren.” “You’ll always be Mrs. Thorne. I’m doing this to protect you.” I’d played along with this charade twice before. This time, I signed without hesitation. Then I turned and slipped on the ten-carat pink diamond ring. The one that the Wall Street kingpin had given me. …… Faye Lawson stroked her swollen belly, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Stellan, is Ines upset with me?” “Look, she even bought herself a ring.” Stellan’s eyes locked onto my ring finger. His jaw tightened, irritation flashing across his face. “Ines, knock it off.” “You think some cheap piece of glass is going to change my mind?” I pushed the signed divorce papers back across the desk. “It’s done. Tomorrow morning in my lawyer’s office. Let’s discuss the distribution of assets.” The room went dead silent for a moment. Then Stellan’s buddies burst into laughter. “Ines, you’ve been playing hard to get for three years. Aren’t you bored yet?” “Seriously. Stellan just wants an heir. You can’t give him one, so why block everyone else?” “What kind of selfish woman does that?” Stellan rubbed his temples, clearly fed up with my stubbornness. “Ines, stop this.” “Faye’s carrying twins. The doctor said the pregnancy is high-risk. She needs bed rest.” Faye leaned into Stellan’s chest, her eyes welling up with crocodile tears. “Stellan, I don’t want our babies to grow up in some hidden apartment like they’re shameful.” She looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Ines, could I stay at your penthouse while I’m on bed rest? The security is better there, and it’s closer to the hospital.” That penthouse was the inheritance my parents left me before they died in a car crash. “That’s my pre-marital property.” Faye flinched like I’d slapped her, tears streaming down her face. “Ines, don’t be so mean. I’m only thinking of the babies.” “If you don’t want to, fine. I’ll just take them back to my hometown.” Stellan pulled her closer and turned to me, his voice hard with authority. “Ines, why are you making this difficult?” “The place is sitting empty anyway. Move out tonight and let Faye move in.” I stared at the face I used to love. The woman I’d been back then seemed pathetic now. “Stellan, do you not understand English?” “That’s my property.” Stellan’s expression darkened. “Ines, it’s just a penthouse. Once the babies are born, you’ll get it back.” “Faye is pregnant. Think of the bigger picture.” His friends chimed in from the sidelines. “Ines, Faye’s carrying the Thorne heirs. You can’t spare one apartment?” I looked at Stellan calmly. “And if I refuse?” Stellan let out a cold laugh and pulled out his phone. “Your firm’s biggest client is Thorne Enterprises, isn’t it?” “Ines, you’re a smart woman. You know what to do. Don’t make me use leverage.” For his mistress, he was threatening the career I’d built from nothing. I looked at the smug certainty in his eyes and suddenly smiled. “Fine. I’ll move out.” Stellan blinked, clearly not expecting me to cave so easily. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes, and his tone softened. “Good. Be reasonable, and I’ll take care of you.” “Move back to the Thorne Estate tonight. Tomorrow my assistant will help Faye settle in.” I stood and let my gaze sweep over all of them. “I’ll have it cleared out tonight.” “Stellan, I hope you don’t regret this.” Stellan scoffed. “It’s just temporary while Faye’s on bed rest. The penthouse is still yours. Stop being dramatic.” Faye tilted her chin up and shot me a triumphant smirk. I didn’t spare them another glance as I walked out of the office. As the door closed behind me, I could still hear his boys laughing. “Stellan’s got her wrapped around his finger.” “Once those twins are born, Stellan will have three kids. Three!” Three kids? I laughed under my breath. I hoped he’d still be smiling when he learned the truth.

That night, a storm rolled in. I went back to the Central Park penthouse to pack. There wasn’t much to take. I didn’t touch a single thing that belonged to Stellan. I took my parents’ photo and my five-year-old Ragdoll cat, Snowball. Snowball seemed to sense my mood and gently licked my fingers. The lock beeped. Stellan walked in, rain dripping from his coat. He saw the suitcase by the door and his expression hardened. “You’re actually leaving?” “Ines, I told you to move back to the Estate. What the hell are you packing for?” I stuffed the last coat into my suitcase and zipped it shut. “The papers are signed. Why would I go back to the Estate?” “Save your energy for your precious twins.” Stellan strode over and slammed his hand down on my suitcase. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?” “I told you the divorce is just a formality. Why are you making this difficult?” “You’re a woman. Without me, without the Thorne family, where the hell do you think you’re going?” His eyes were full of certainty. He thought I couldn’t survive on my own. I shoved his hand off. “Where I go is none of your concern anymore.” Stellan’s face darkened. He was about to explode when Faye’s call came through. Her voice on the other end was a whimpering mess. “Stellan, I’m scared without you here.” “The thunder is so loud. My stomach hurts. What if something’s wrong with the babies?” Stellan’s expression shifted to panic. “Faye, don’t worry. I’m coming right now.” He hung up and shot me a cold glare. “Ines, you better pray nothing happens to Faye’s babies.” “Otherwise, I will never forgive you.” He turned and disappeared into the storm. I watched his retreating figure and felt nothing but contempt. When I was bleeding out in the operating room from an ectopic pregnancy, where was he? He was touring venues for his first mistress’s kid’s shower. I closed my eyes and buried that humiliating memory. I grabbed my suitcase, scooped up Snowball, and left the penthouse for good. The next morning, I showed up on time at my lawyer’s office, waited until the close of business. Stellan never showed. He didn’t answer a single call. As I was leaving, one of his friends called me instead. “Ines, do you have any conscience at all?” “Faye had complications last night. Stellan was at the hospital with her all night, and you’re still pushing him to finalize the divorce?” “Are you trying to kill his babies? Is that what you want?” My voice was flat and emotionless. “If he’s busy, we can reschedule.” I hung up and headed straight to my firm. The moment I walked through the door, I could feel the tension. My assistant Clara rushed over, her eyes red and frantic. “Ines, we have a problem.” “Thorne Enterprises’ Legal Department just sent an email. They’ve terminated all contracts with us, effective immediately.” “And they’re telling other clients that anyone who works with us is declaring war on Thorne.” I stopped in my tracks, my eyes going cold. Stellan was trying to force me to crawl back. He thought cutting off my income would make me submit. I opened my laptop to find a dozen termination emails from the major clients I’d spent years building relationships with. My phone buzzed with a text from Stellan. [Apologize to Faye. Promise to behave and stay, Mrs. Thorne. I’ll restore the contracts.] [Ines, don’t test my patience.] I stared at the screen and laughed. He always had that same condescending, magnanimous tone. I didn’t reply. Then I blocked his number and dialed someone else. The call connected immediately. A man’s deep voice came through the line. “So Stellan finally kicked you to the curb?” “Evander, you win.” I stared out the window. “I don’t want Thorne’s business anymore. But I need you to do something for me.”

The man on the other end let out a low laugh. “Name it. I’d hand you all of Wall Street if you asked.” “What do you need?” My voice turned ice-cold. “I want Thorne Enterprises to go into financial freefall within a month.” Over the next few days, Stellan didn’t show his face. He probably assumed I was somewhere scrambling to save my firm, ready to come crawling back any second. He had no idea. I’d already sold my stake in the firm for a fortune and quietly taken over all of Sinclair Group’s North American legal operations. That afternoon, I’d just finished a meeting at Sinclair Tower when my phone rang. The vet clinic. “Ms. Kensington, something’s happened to your cat!” My heart seized. I drove straight to the clinic. I pushed through the door to find Snowball lying on the operating table, blood matting her white fur, barely breathing. The vet’s hands were covered in blood, his face grim. “Ms. Kensington, she was beaten with a blunt object. Internal damage. We did everything we could.” My mind went blank. Snowball was a birthday gift from my parents. She’d stayed with me through countless sleepless, lonely nights. My hands trembled as I stroked her bloodstained fur. Snowball struggled to open her eyes one last time, looked at me, and then stopped breathing. “Who did this?” My voice came out hoarse. The vet sighed and pulled up the security footage from outside. On the screen, Faye stood in oversized sunglasses, gripping a golf club. Behind her, a bodyguard dragged Snowball out of her carrier. Faye didn’t hesitate. She swung the club down hard, over and over. When Snowball finally stopped moving, Faye kicked her in disgust. “Stupid animal thought it could scratch me? Should’ve known its place.” She turned to the bodyguard. “Toss it on the street. Don’t let Stellan see this mess.” I stared at the screen, my nails digging into my palms until I couldn’t feel them anymore. I pulled out my phone and called the police. Half an hour later, officers escorted me to what used to be my home. The door swung open. Faye was curled up in Stellan’s arms. When she saw the cops, she let out a shriek and hid behind him. “Stellan, I’m scared.” Stellan stepped in front of her, his face dark with fury as he glared at me. “Ines, what the hell is wrong with you now?” “Bringing cops to my home? Are you trying to humiliate me?” I looked at him coldly. “Faye is under investigation for destruction of property and animal cruelty. I’m pressing charges.” Stellan froze for a second, then laughed in disbelief. “Over that worthless cat?” “Ines, are you out of your mind? It’s a cat. It’s dead. I’ll buy you ten more if you want.” “Faye is pregnant. She can’t handle this kind of stress. Get the hell out of my house. Now.” I stared at the man in front of me. He felt like a stranger. “That cat was mine. My parents gave her to me.” “What did she do to deserve being beaten to death?” Faye peeked out from behind Stellan, tears streaming down her face. “Ines, stop lying.” “The cat went crazy and tried to claw my stomach. I was protecting the Thorne heirs. It was self-defense.” “Do you really value an animal over the lives of our children?” Stellan’s expression turned vicious. He lunged forward and raised his hand. The slap echoed through the room. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth, and my ears rang. Stellan pointed at me, shaking with rage. “Ines, how twisted are you?” “You can’t have children, so you use a damn animal to try and kill mine?” “If anything happens to Faye’s babies, you’ll pay with your life.” The officers immediately stepped forward and pulled Stellan back. “Mr. Thorne, calm down. You just assaulted someone in front of law enforcement. We can arrest you for that.” Stellan didn’t even flinch. He straightened his cuffs with a cold smirk. “Arrest me? The Police Commissioner answers my calls. I’m disciplining my wife. You think you can arrest me?” He turned back to me, his eyes full of warning. “Ines, I’m giving you one last chance.” “Drop the charges. Get on your knees and apologize to Faye.” “Or I’ll make sure you never work in this city again.” I wiped the blood from my mouth and looked at the two of them with complete calm. The rage had burned out, leaving only clarity. “Stellan, that slap just severed the last thread between us.” “You want children?” “Then I hope you have a beautiful family together.” I turned to the officers. “I’ve submitted the surveillance footage. I’m pressing charges.” I walked out without looking back. Behind me, Stellan’s voice exploded into the night. “Ines! Don’t you dare walk out that door!” “If you leave, you’re never coming back!”

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“Luna. Let me tell you a secret.” Alpha Kaelen leaned in close, voice barely a whisper. “The late Alpha didn’t just die of illness. I switched out his medicine that night.” He smiled. “Funny, isn’t it? You saved a Rogue’s pup, Luna. And I killed your Alpha.” *********** Six months since Kaelen took over the pack. Six months, and my guards, my servants, my food had been cut three times. The fourth time, the Beta who delivered the message didn’t even bother to bow. He said the Alpha had found me a quiet cabin at the edge of the territory. “The Alpha thinks it would be good for you to rest there.” I sat all day, sorting through everything my late mate had left me. The Obsidian Fang. Three Blood Decrees that the late alpha made. The next day, I attended the Full Moon Council as usual. From my seat, I watched the pack through the flickering firelight. Kaelen turned his head and glanced at me. The woman standing beside him wasn’t the Luna. It was Chloe—his chosen Mate, the one he’d publicly claimed just last month. She adjusted his collar, her fingers lingering on the fresh bite marks on her neck. She leaned in and whispered something. Then Kaelen raised his voice for everyone to hear. “I don’t think our Luna has been feeling well lately. She doesn’t need to worry about pack affairs anymore.” A few Betas murmured in agreement. I didn’t move. “So you think it’s time for me to go?” I paused. “Let me ask you something.The late Alpha left three Blood Decrees. Did you konw?” Dead silence. Kaelen’s fingers dug into the armrest. “The first one protects my position as Luna. You’ve seen that one. But you seem unwilling to comply.” “The second one—do you want to open it now? Or would you rather wait until I’m gone?” Not a sound. Every wolf in attendance lowered their heads. Even their breathing seemed to slow. Kaelen’s face drained of color. He stared in my direction, his throat bobbing twice. His knuckles had gone white from gripping the armrest. I watched his eyes through the dim light. That wasn’t guilt. That was fear. “Luna, you can’t be serious.” His voice dropped low, barely holding steady. “The Blood Decrees is sacred. You can’t just throw it around like this. We can talk about this in private after the council.” He was stalling. I wasn’t going to give him the chance. My hand slipped into my cloak. My fingers brushed against the Blood Decrees. In the front row, a few of the late Alpha’s old allies lifted their heads. “Well. Since you’re in no rush.” I flicked my wrist. The Blood Decrees flew from my hand and tumbled down the stone steps. Every pair of eyes followed it down. No one moved. Kaelen shot to his feet—but the woman beside him was faster. Chloe grabbed her skirts and rushed down the steps, bending low to snatch the Blood Decrees. “Our Luna hasn’t been sleeping well. I think the stress is getting to her head. Don’t worry, I’ll keep this safe—” I watched her bent figure, and a memory surfaced. Twelve years ago. Dead of winter. I had found him half-dead in the snow, a rogue’s unwanted pup, and brought him into the pack. I gave him a home. A name and a future. And this was what I got in return. “How dare you.” Four Luna’s Guards burst through the entrance, half-shifted, claws out and pressed against Chloe’s throat. She froze. Hand in midair. All the color gone from her face. Someone gasped. Chloe’s legs shook. She looked desperately at Kaelen, lips trembling, but nothing came out. Kaelen’s eyes went wide. He pulled Chloe behind him, voice rising. “She was just trying to help! What the hell are you doing? You want to tear this pack apart over nothing?” His hand clamped down on Chloe’s shoulder. Veins popped along the back of his hand. The Betas who had backed him up moments ago were now staring at their feet. Silent. I didn’t acknowledge him. “Head Elder.” In the front row, the white-haired elder’s knees gave out. He sank to the ground. “I… I’m here.” “Pick it up. Read it out loud.” The old man crawled to the bottom of the steps. His hands trembled as he lifted the Blood Decrees. His fingers shook so hard that flakes of dried scattered across the stone. Kaelen opened his mouth, ready to stop him—but dozens of eyes snapped toward him at once. The words died in his throat. His eyes scanned the text. Left to right. His face changed. He looked up at me. Then back at Kaelen. His lips moved, but no sound came out. “Read it.” I said.

The Head Elder’s voice shook as he read, every word forced out. “The late Alpha’s second decree: Should the new Alpha neglect his duties for personal pleasures or permit any mate to overstep her place” “—the Luna holds the right to strip all ranks from those involved. No appeal. No council vote. Effective at once.” Silence. Then every pair of eyes turned to the same spot. Chloe stood behind Kaelen. Her face had gone gray. Her nails dug into her palms so hard they nearly drew blood. The Decree bore the late Alpha’s blood seal and scent. Every stroke, every mark is unmistakable. Impossible to forge. Kaelen’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t get a single word out. I rose to my feet. Every wolf in the room turned to look at me. The old guard in the front lowered their gazes. The younger wolves in the back were shaking. “Beta Hendricks failed to teach his daughter her place. He let her snatch the late Alpha’s Blood Decree in front of the entire pack. A direct insult to this council.” “The Blood Decrees carries the late Alpha’s blood seal. Only the Luna has the right to unseal it. ” “Beta Hendricks failed to teach his daughter her place. She tried to snatch it in front of the entire pack—that’s not just disrespect. That’s a direct challenge to his final command.” My voice was calm. But everyone heard it. On the left side, third row—Beta Hendricks, Chloe’s father, went purple in the face. He swayed twice but forced himself to stay standing. My voice was calm. But everyone heard it. “Effective immediately: stripped of his rank and banished from the inner territory. He runs with the strays now.” I looked at Kaelen. “Alpha. Any objections?” His lips pressed into a thin line. His jaw was clenched so tight a vein bulged at his temple. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. He’d bitten through his own lip. Behind him, Chloe clutched his arm, trembling all over. Kaelen closed his eyes for a moment. “…Granted.” The word came out through gritted teeth. Beta Hendricks stood frozen. Chloe’s knees buckled. She collapsed against Kaelen, sobbing without a sound. He held her shoulder and lowered his head. But when his eyes lifted to meet mine— Pure hatred and ice cold. Less than two hours after the council ended, every guard outside my quarters was gone. Replaced by Kaelen’s warriors. The marks on their collars bore his initial. I stood by the window, watching them line up in the courtyard. Finley came in with tea, his steps lighter than usual. He set down the cup and gave me a small bow. “Luna. The guards have changed. We’ll need to be more careful from now on.” I glanced at him but said nothing. He backed out quietly. I opened the hidden compartment and spread out the third Blood Decree and the Obsidian Fang on the table. My fingers traced over the fang’s carved surface, inch by inch. Before my mate —the late Alpha died, he had pressed these into my hands. His last words to me— “Keep them. Don’t give them to anyone.” I thought he was being paranoid. That night, an unfamiliar servant walked in carrying a bowl. He set it on the table without so much as a nod. His eyes swept over me with open contempt. “Alpha’s orders. The Luna hasn’t been well. One bowl Every day. No exceptions.” He paused, then lowered his voice. “And if Luna still refuses to hand over the Obsidian Fang… well, the recipe for this tonic might change.”

After the servant left, I picked up the bowl. It smelled faintly sweet. I walked to the window and poured the entire thing onto the ground outside. The liquid splashed against the stone, spreading into a dark stain. Late that night, a soft thud came from the rooftop. A shadow dropped down and knelt before me. One of my hidden scouts. The ones I’d kept outside the territory. “Luna. Something Urgent. Chloe’s cousin intercepted General Marcus’s supply convoy at the border. Thirty thousand pounds of provisions. Not a scrap left.” My grip tightened around the arm of my chair. Marcus—my brother—was stationed at the northern border. Thirty hundred warriors depended on those supplies. Cutting them off was the same as sentencing them to death. The wood cracked beneath my fingers. “Got it.” I sat in the darkness, staring at my hands. He wasn’t just coming for me. He was coming for the whole pack. The next morning. My door was kicked open from the outside. Kaelen strode in, boots echoing against the floor with every step. Chloe followed behind him. Kaelen walked straight to the table and slammed a piece of paper down. “Luna. Read this.” A letter. My brother’s handwriting. The contents accused him of conspiring with enemy packs. Treason. The handwriting was close. But Marcus had an old injury in his right hand. His strokes always hitched at the end. This letter was too smooth. Every line too perfect. It was forged. “Your brother, Marcus has been caught red-handed. Conspiring with rogues. Plotting against the pack.” Kaelen crossed his arms, looking down at me. “Hand over the Obsidian Fang. Maybe I’ll let him die in one piece.” Chloe smiled maliciously. “Luna, I’m only trying to help. Marcus’s bad leg—he got that protecting our Alpha, didn’t he? Such a shame if he dies a traitor.” Years ago, during a rogue attack on the border, Marcus had shielded Kaelen with his own body. Took a blow meant for a boy who was nobody back then. He’d walked with a limp ever since, stationed at the frozen border for seven years. And now they wanted to execute him for treason. Kaelen shifted. His claws extended, gleaming in the low light. He held them inches from my chest. “I only ask once more.” His voice dropped low. “Give me the Fang and the last Blood Decree. Or tonight, I’ll feed Marcus’s remains to the rogues.”

I didn’t back down. I shifted just enough for my claws to extend. In one swift motion, I grabbed Chloe’s wrist and yanked her in front of me. My claws pressed against her throat. Chloe screamed. Kaelen’s eyes went wide. His claws shifted instantly—away from my chest, now aimed at my neck. Three years ago, I took him in during the dead of winter. Now his claws were at my throat. “Kaelen. This is how you repay the one who saved you.” My voice was quiet. Only he could hear. “Fine.” I let go of Chloe. She stumbled and fell, then crawled back to Kaelen’s feet, sobbing. I walked to the hidden compartment and took out an obsidian fang—but not the real one. A replica. One I’d prepared long ago. It sat heavy in my palm. The late Alpha had told me the day he gave me the real one: This is your last safeguard. Now I was going to throw this fake at his feet. I held it up in front of Kaelen. Watched his eyes. It was greedy. I let go. The fang dropped from my hand and hit the stone floor. A piece chipped off the edge. “Take it. And my family doesn’t need your mercy.” Kaelen bent down and picked it up. He turned it over three times, checking every inch. The tension in his face finally eased. A smile crept onto his lips. He grabbed Chloe and walked out without looking back. The moment the door closed, Chloe’s laughter drifted in from outside. I turned and reached into the deepest part of the hidden compartment. My fingertips touched something cold. I pulled it out. The real Obsidian Fang. Black as midnight. Carved with ancient wolf runes. “They think that fang can command the warriors.” I gripped it tight. “They don’t know all pack warriors only answers to this real one.” A hidden passage opened silently. One of my scouts slipped out and knelt at my feet. I placed the fang in his hand. “Get word to my brother. Fake a defeat. Pull back from the border. Bring three hundred warriors. Surround the territory. Cut off every exit. Wait for my signal.” The scout took the fang and vanished without a sound. I stood by the window. The sky had gone dark. Finley hurried in. “Luna. Kaelen used that fang to reassign the border patrols. Every post is now held by his wolves.” I didn’t turn around. “Finley.” “Yes, Luna.” “The third Decree. It’s time everyone knowned what he really is.”

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“Tomorrow morning, I’ll have my mom slip a sedative into Nora’s champagne.” Dominic’s voice came from the hallway outside my room. I froze with my hand on the door. Tomorrow was supposed to be our wedding day. I had loved Dominic Thorne, my childhood sweetheart, for eight years. But now, the man I was supposed to marry was planning how he planned to give me to another man. “After we pick up the bride tomorrow, drive straight to the Astor estate.” “The Astor estate?” his friend asked, confused. Dominic’s voice dropped. “Clair’s family went bankrupt. They owe the Astors hundreds of millions. Her parents are trying to sell her off to the old Astor to settle the debt.” “I can’t just stand by and watch her life get destroyed. Nora will have to take her place.” His friend sounded shocked. “You can’t bear to ruin Clair’s life, so you’ll ruin Nora’s instead?” “The old man is ninety and dying. The family demands a marriage to secure the inheritance. They need a young bride for this.” “When he’s dead, I won’t mind that Nora’s a widow. I’ll still marry her.” “But do you really think Nora will just go along with marrying some old man?” Dominic paused. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll have my mom slip a sedative into Nora’s champagne. By the time she wakes up, she’ll already be in the old man’s bed.” “Once the deed is done, she won’t have a choice.” I stood there listening to every word. I didn’t scream or cry. I just walked back to my room and waited for tomorrow’s wedding. The next morning, Dominic arrived with his groomsmen to pick me up. Clair Kensington showed up with them. The moment she saw me in my wedding dress, she burst into tears. “Nora, I’m so jealous. You get to marry the man you love. You’re so lucky.” “Not like me. My parents want to sell me off to some ninety-year-old man to pay off their debts.” Then she wiped her tears and glanced pointedly at Dominic. “But thank God, someone already took me to register our marriage yesterday. That old man can’t have me now, even if he wants to.” Hearing the smug triumph in her voice, I froze. I thought being forced into a substitute marriage was the worst betrayal. I never imagined Dominic had already registered his marriage with her. My best friend Gemma, oblivious to the truth, whispered angrily in my ear. “Why is she even here? Today is supposed to be your wedding day with Dominic.” “She’s crying on purpose. Is she trying to bring bad luck?” “It’s fine.” I patted Gemma’s hand gently. Today was never my wedding day with Dominic anyway. This whole charade of picking up the bride was just a trap to get me in the car—a carefully planned bait-and-switch. Dominic and his groosmen rushed into the room. “We’re running out of time. Just find the wedding shoes.” His groomsmen searched the room and quickly found my heels. But Dominic didn’t bring them to me. He walked straight to Clair. “Nora, Clair twisted her ankle on the way here and broke her heel.” He knelt down in front of Clair and smoothly helped her change out of her damaged shoe. “Clair has delicate skin. She can’t wear rough, uncomfortable shoes. Let her wear your wedding heels.” Then he pulled a cheap pair of flats from the shoe rack and tossed them at my feet. “They’re just shoes.” He looked at me with that same gentle smile. “You won’t make a fuss over something so small, will you?” “Dominic, those are her wedding shoes!” Gemma couldn’t take it anymore. “So what if they are?” Dominic frowned slightly. “They’re just shoes. What difference does it make?” “It’s not just about the shoes—” “Forget it, Gemma.” I stopped her. “Let her have them.” Clair was the boss’s daughter at Dominic’s company. For the past two years, Dominic had been making me bend over backwards for her with the excuse that “the boss’s daughter can’t be offended.” I’d given her my work projects. I’d given her my pet. I’d given her my clothes and jewelry. And now, I was about to hand over my husband too. Eight years with Dominic Thorne, and this was what I got—a carefully orchestrated betrayal.

Clair slipped on my wedding heels, her face glowing with satisfaction. “Dominic, these fit me perfectly. It’s like they were custom-made for me.” She smiled with that fake sweetness. “Where did you get them?” These shoes were made by Dominic. When he was twenty, he spent six months flying to Paris, working with a top designer to create a pair of custom diamond-encrusted heels just for me. Back then, he’d said, “Nora. When we get married, you’ll wear these shoes. I want to give you a pair of wedding heels that are one of a kind in the entire world.” He’d said, “Nora, I want to give you the best of everything.” Back then, Dominic really was good to me. He couldn’t bear to see me suffer even a little. He wanted to give me everything good in the world. But after Clair appeared, everything changed. Lost in thought, I barely noticed Dominic kneeling down to slip the cheap flats onto my feet. The rough fabric scraped painfully against my skin. The bridesmaids, oblivious to the tension between us, started chanting, “Kiss! Kiss!” Dominic couldn’t resist the cheering and leaned in to kiss me. But at that exact moment, Clair stumbled and fell straight into his arms. Dominic caught her instinctively, and their lips collided perfectly. The room went dead silent. Gemma exploded. “Clair, you did that on purpose!” “I’m sorry, I just lost my balance…” “You lost your balance? And out of everywhere you could fall, you fell right into the groom’s arms?” “Enough. Stop it.” Dominic helped Clair to her feet, his expression displeased. “Clair twisted her ankle earlier. It’s normal that she lost her balance.” He turned to Gemma, his tone cold. “It’s such a small thing. Is it really worth getting this angry over?” “This isn’t a small thing—” Gemma was about to lose it, but I stopped her. Over the past two years, Dominic had called too many things “small.” Last year, when Clair plagiarized the marketing campaign I’d worked on for three months, he said it was a small thing. Six months ago, when Clair crashed our anniversary dinner as a third wheel, he said it was a small thing. Even when Clair accidentally killed my cat, I had raised for six years, he also said it was a small thing. Every single time, Dominic told me not to make a fuss over Clair. This time, there really was no point in making a fuss anymore. While we were at a standoff, Dominic’s mother walked in carrying a champagne flute. “Nora, I’ve been waiting so long for you to grow up and get married.” She lifted the glass to my lips. “Here, drink this quickly while it’s fresh. It’ll calm your nerves. Your future will be bright and beautiful.” Staring at the champagne in front of me, my mind went blank for a moment. My parents died when I was young. For over a decade, the Thorne family took me in and raised me as their own. But now these two people I trusted most were working together to push me into hell. I knew exactly what swallowing this drink meant. But I opened my mouth and drank it anyway. Someone shouted, “It’s time! We need to go to the wedding!” Dominic scooped me up in his arms and carried me downstairs, step by step.

When I was little, Dominic used to carry me like this too. When I was twelve, my parents died in a car accident. The trauma sent me into shock, and I hid myself away for three days without food or water. Dominic was the one who found me. He carried my half-dead body back home. Back then, he held my frail hand and said firmly, “Nora, from now on, my home is your home. My parents are your parents.” “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I’ll always protect you.” His shoulders were just as warm and solid as they used to be. Except now, they didn’t belong to me anymore. When we reached the lobby, Dominic set me down. “Nora.” He adjusted my veil, his eyes soft and smiling. “I’ll walk you to the car.” But the moment we stepped outside, he stopped at the entrance and gestured toward the limousine waiting at the curb. “Actually, you should go ahead. I need to handle something with the groomsmen first.” Gemma was furious. “What? The groom isn’t even escorting his bride to the car? What kind of wedding is this?” “It’s just a short walk, Gemma. Don’t make a scene.” “Dominic, what’s wrong with you today?” Gemma was shaking with anger. “You’ve been acting strange from the moment you walked in. Did someone brainwash you?” “Gemma.” I grabbed her hand and patted it reassuringly. “It’s fine. I can walk by myself.” Dominic was never my groom to begin with. What right did he have to escort me anywhere? The wedding car was parked just steps away. Once I got in that car, my past with him would be completely over. After I climbed into the back seat, Dominic stood at the door without moving. “Nora.” He stared at me, his eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t read. Finally, he just said, “Take care of yourself.” Gemma’s tone was sharp. “What are you still standing there for? Get in!” Dominic smiled and pointed to the car behind us. “I’ll ride in the other one. I’ll follow behind and make sure you get there safely.” With that, he slammed the door shut. Gemma frowned, her confusion deepening. “What’s gotten into Dominic today? Why is he acting so weird?” “Nothing’s wrong.” My voice was quiet. “He just wants me to be a substitute bride for Clair.” “Substitute bride?” Before I could answer, Gemma suddenly realized something was off. “Wait—driver, stop!” “You’re going the wrong way! Why are you heading in that direction? Turn around!” “Gemma.” I cut her off. “The driver isn’t going the wrong way. I’m being sent to marry into the Astor family.” “The Astor family?” I told Gemma everything—the whole story from beginning to end. When she finished listening, she was trembling with rage. “That bastard! How could Dominic do this to you? Did a dog eat his conscience?” But I felt calm. “The Thorne family raised me for over a decade. Consider this as repaying that debt.” “They raised you, sure, but you saved Dominic’s life! You’ve already paid them back!” “And these past two years, whenever Dominic’s back pain flared up and he was lying in bed useless like a cripple, you were the one taking care of him every single day!” “You’ve given him so much. What gives him the right to treat you like this?” Gemma was right. If we’re talking about debts, I’d already repaid mine a long time ago. But it didn’t matter anymore. Just then, my phone buzzed with a message. It was from Clair. [Nora, today is such a wonderful day. Dominic just gave me a wedding gift. Isn’t it beautiful?] I stared at the antique emerald necklace in the photo, and my blood ran cold. This necklace was the only thing my mother left me before she died. It had been passed down from my great-grandmother’s generation. Back then, I was too young, so Dominic’s mother kept it safe for me. They’d promised to return it when I got married. How could he give it to Clair without my permission? “Stop the car!”

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The wedding was ten days away. I pushed open the fitting room door. Cole Harrison was bent over Sadie Hayes, his fingers working the laces at the back of her wedding dress. The Vera Wang. The one I’d swiped my card for two days ago. Paid in full. The one I was supposed to wear walking down the aisle to him in ten days. The boutique consultant stood off to the side, her face locked in that standard-issue professional smile. She was telling Sadie her shoulders and neckline were absolutely flawless. That this gown looked like it had been made for her. Sadie had walked in with Cole. The staff had probably already decided they were the couple here for the final fitting. I stood in the fitting room doorway. Veil still on. My fingers curled inward, one inch at a time. The photographer I’d brought to capture behind-the-scenes moments had been filming my reveal. Now her phone hung frozen in the air. Like she didn’t know who to point it at anymore. Sadie spotted me through the mirror. Her reaction came a beat late. Her hands flew up to cover the sheer fabric draped across her chest. “Eleanor. Don’t misunderstand.” Her voice was pitched low. Soft. Practiced innocence. “I just thought the dress was so beautiful. I said I wanted to try it on, and Cole said—” “She’s never worn a wedding dress.” Cole straightened up. Finished her sentence. His tone was casual. Like he was explaining why he’d lent the spare key to the neighbors. “Just letting her try it on. It’s not a big deal.” I looked at him. A laugh almost broke through. Last night I’d been up until one in the morning on Zola, cross-checking the final guest list. I’d paid the balance on the gown the afternoon before last. This morning I was still picking fonts for the place cards. And now my fiancé was standing in front of my wedding gown. Fixing the laces for another woman. Tossing me a line about how it was no big deal. I didn’t speak. I walked toward them. The boutique went silent. The sales assistant who’d been holding my gloves took an instinctive step back. Cole glanced at me. Something in my expression must have finally registered. His voice dropped into that tone I knew too well. The one that told me not to make a scene. “She just got back from the West Coast. She’s not in a great place.” “It’s just trying on a dress. Don’t do this here.” I looked straight at him. “Do this? Since when did it become me doing something? The moment you put my wedding dress on her body—that’s when things got ugly.” His brow creased. Sadie bit her lip. Extracting herself. “Eleanor, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I just—” “You meant something.” I cut her off. “If you didn’t mean anything, you wouldn’t have known exactly whose dress this was. And you wouldn’t be standing here letting him fix your train.” The color drained from her face. Cole’s voice hardened. “Eleanor.” “Why are you going after her? She said she just wanted to try it on. Do you have to make this so ugly?” I looked at him. And then I understood. When a heart dies, it doesn’t hurt. It hollows out. So empty you can’t even find the energy to be angry. Not a stabbing pain. Just emptiness. A vast, quiet void. And in that silence, one thought echoed. Clear as a bell. It’s over. *** I reached up and pulled the veil from my hair. The tulle slipped through my fingers. Drifted down into the hands of the sales assistant standing beside me. Everyone froze. Cole’s face finally shifted. “Eleanor. What are you doing?” I ignored him. Looked down at my ring finger. Worked the diamond off. He’d slid that ring onto my hand last month. Said we’d upgrade to something better after the wedding. Turns out in his mind, everything was shareable. The dress. The wedding. Even the dignity of being his fiancée. All available for loan. Anything to comfort someone else. The ring was snug. I twisted it. A red mark bloomed around my knuckle. Cole stepped forward. Reached for me. “Don’t do this.” I sidestepped him. Dropped the ring into the velvet accessory tray. “She wants to try on the wedding dress? Let her marry you.” I lifted my eyes to his. One word at a time. “Find your own groom. Throw your own goddamn wedding. This one was mine.” The silence in the boutique was absolute. You could hear people breathing. The photographer’s phone was still up. The frame trembled slightly. Sadie’s face had gone nearly bloodless. Her voice started shaking. “Eleanor, please don’t be like this. I really wasn’t trying to—” “The problem isn’t whether you were trying to take him, Sadie.” I looked at her. “The problem is he’s already yours. All you have to do is reach for him. His loyalty to me was always rented.” Cole’s expression darkened. “Enough. The wedding is in ten days. You’re pulling this now? Have you thought about the consequences?” That sentence. It snuffed out the last flicker of hope I’d been holding. He knew. He knew exactly how far over the line this was. He’d just assumed I was too deep in—too much money spent, too much effort sunk, too many years invested—to flip the table. He was betting I couldn’t let go. Betting I’d swallow it like I always did. Tell myself to let it go. The wedding was almost here anyway. I nodded. A laugh escaped me. “I’ve thought about it.” “So as of now, the wedding is canceled.” Cole looked like he hadn’t heard me right. “What did you say?” “Canceled.” I turned to the boutique staff. My voice came out so steady it surprised even me. “Pull up the payment records for this gown. The alteration records. The appointment booking information. All of it.” The sales assistants exchanged a glance. Looked at Cole on reflex. I followed their gaze. “What’s the problem?” I asked. “I ordered this dress. I paid for it. Do I not have the right to see my own records?” That landed. The two women looked at each other and immediately went for the iPad and files. Sadie was wobbling now. She clutched the skirt and stepped back. “Cole, I should just take this off—” “Yes. Take it off.” I looked at her. “Now.” Her eyes went red. Like I’d just done something unspeakably cruel to her. I didn’t even have the energy to watch the performance this time. A few minutes later, the staff brought up the system records. Reservation name: Eleanor Vance. Deposit payer: Eleanor Vance. Balance payer: Eleanor Vance. Rush alteration fee payer: Eleanor Vance. I took the iPad. Flipped to the payment page. Held it up in front of Cole’s face. “You see this clearly? I ordered the dress. I paid for it. I scheduled the wedding. You took what was mine to play hero for your high school nostalgia crush. And you wanted me to be gracious about it. Is that right?” Cole’s lips moved. “Eleanor. That’s not what I meant.” “Whether you meant it or not doesn’t matter anymore.” I handed the iPad back to the assistant. Bent down and lifted the train of the gown off the floor. Just enough so I wouldn’t step on it. “As of now, this wedding is on hold.” “The cancellations, the accounting, the liability determinations—I’ll handle every single item. One by one.” “And as for you—” I looked at Sadie. At the wedding dress she still hadn’t managed to take off. My voice went cold. “You want the benefits of someone else’s fiancé? Fine. But don’t use my wedding as your runway.” I turned and walked out. Cole came after me. Grabbed my wrist. His voice was low and tight. “Was this really necessary?” I stopped. Looked back at him. “Cole. You weren’t asking me to calm down today. You were betting I wouldn’t flip the table.” His fingers went rigid. I pulled free. One finger at a time. “Too bad. You bet wrong.”

I walked out of the bridal boutique. The sun outside was blinding. The kind of bright that makes your eyes sting. Maya ran after me. Shoved my phone and bag into my arms. Her voice was still shaking. “Ellie. Are you really calling it off?” I looked down. Pulled the ring box out of my bag. The empty box felt impossibly light. “I’m calling it off. Seven years is enough. No need to throw in the rest of my life too.” I got in the car. Cranked the AC to max. Cold sweat still soaked through the back of my shirt. Maya sat in the passenger seat. She glanced back at me several times. Opened her mouth. Closed it. I knew what she was thinking. Was I being impulsive. The wedding was ten days away. Flipping the table now—the venue, the planner, the invitations, the banquet, the party favors. Every single piece needed to be unwound. And more than that: seven years. Not seven days. Not seven months. Seven years. From the time I was twenty-two. The ride-along years with Cole. From a fresh graduate who had nothing and was nothing. To now. In the beginning, I was the one who got him through the hardest stretches. He caught the flu. Fever spiked to a hundred and four. I was the one who drove him to the ER at two in the morning. When he was grinding through his career change, I was the one balancing my own projects while rewriting his résumé and running mock interviews with him. Later, his career stabilized. The money came. Everyone said my suffering had finally paid off. Only I knew. I wasn’t waiting for someone to hand me a result. I’d taken all those years and genuinely poured them into what I thought was our future together. So even later, when the name Sadie Hayes started flickering at the edges of our relationship, I kept telling myself not to overthink it. Two people who never got together in high school. A shadow left in someone’s heart. Didn’t mean anything real would come of it. On his birthday, a message popped up on his phone. The contact was just a letter. “S.” He said it was an old classmate saying hello. The day she flew back from California, he canceled dinner with my parents at the last minute. Said it was an urgent work thing. Later, I saw Sadie’s Instagram story from the airport pickup. The edge of the frame caught half a shirt cuff. His cuff. I held my phone and stared at it for a long time. I never asked. It wasn’t that I didn’t see. It was that I took every single one of his ambiguities and explained them into something acceptable. Until today. Until he stood in that boutique and fixed the laces on my wedding gown for Sadie Hayes. That was the moment I understood. Some relationships don’t rot overnight. You just kept refusing to admit they’d gone crooked a long time ago. Maya finally couldn’t hold it in. “You want to go home first?” “My place,” I said. “I need to sort out the numbers.” She blinked. “You’re going to do accounting right now?” “If I don’t do it now, you want to wait for him to strike first? Let him spin me as the hysterical bride who lost it right before the wedding?” I unlocked my phone. Pulled up the master wedding budget spreadsheet. I’d built this table with my own hands. The gown. The venue deposit. The planner’s down payment. The party favors. The décor for the new house. The custom rings. The invitation printing. The photographer. Every item was tagged by date and payment account. Clean. Clear. Years of project management had made me good at one thing: taking chaos and breaking it down into executable line items. I used to use that skill to build a life. Now I was going to use it to cut my losses. I highlighted every expense I’d fronted from my personal account in red. Exported the corresponding transfer records and signed contracts into PDFs. One by one. Wedding gown balance: forty-five hundred dollars. Rush alteration fee: six hundred. Venue banquet deposit: ten thousand. Planner down payment: three thousand. Party favors: fifteen hundred. New house décor balance: two thousand. The scattered numbers added up to a sum that went far beyond what any “don’t be like this” could smooth over. Maya stared at the figures and sucked in a breath. “You never squared any of this with him before?” “We talked about it,” I said. “He said let me front it. He’d pay me back when the quarterly bonus hit. Some of it, we just defaulted to me paying. I understood the process better. I could get payments out faster. We’d reconcile everything later.” I laughed at myself when I said it. Reconcile everything later. Turns out in his mind, I was suitable for marriage. Not just because I was stable. Sensible. Good at building a life. But because I could pay. I could cover the gaps. I could manage every headache into neat, tidy order. And all he had to do was show up when required. Keep being the respectable groom-to-be. He used to joke about my Excel sheets. Said they looked like I was executing a merger, not planning a wedding. But he was right. I was managing a project. Only now, it was time to strip this failed project out of my life. Completely.

My phone screen lit up. A text from Cole. “Just calm down first.” The second one came right after. “What happened today isn’t as serious as you think.” The third one was fast. “Sadie just got out of a relationship. She’s in a bad place. I was just looking out for her. Don’t blow this up.” I stared at the words “don’t blow this up.” My fingers went cold at the tips. Even now. He was still fixated on whether this was a big thing or a small thing. Not whether it was wrong. Maya leaned over. Read the screen. Her laugh was pure rage. “He actually has the nerve.” I didn’t reply. A second later, my phone buzzed again. Not a private message this time. Cole had posted in the bridesmaids and groomsmen group chat. The one we’d set up to coordinate wedding logistics. The group had Maya. His best man. A handful of close friends. Cole dropped a message. “Small misunderstanding at the fitting today. Eleanor got a little emotional. The wedding is still on. No need for anyone to overthink it.” I stared at that line for three full seconds. Maya said it flat out. “He’s seizing the narrative.” I made a sound of agreement. Not surprising. Cole’s greatest talent had always been dressing ugly situations up as presentable misunderstandings. He was never afraid of hurting me. He was afraid of other people knowing that ten days before the wedding, he’d used his fiancée’s gown to placate his high school first love. The replies started rolling in fast. “Pre-wedding jitters. Happens to everyone. Cole, just pamper her a little.” “Eleanor’s probably just stressed.” And then Cole’s best friend, Ben, dropped his line. “Bro, you’re at the finish line. Don’t flip the car now.” Almost at the same moment, my mom’s text appeared. “Ellie. Don’t be scared. Take care of yourself first. Dad and I are here.” I looked at the best man’s message. Then at my mom’s. Something hot pressed against the back of my eyes. Some people were afraid their friend might wreck his image. Some people were only afraid I might break. I could see it all now. Who cared about appearances. Who cared about me. I set my phone on my lap. Took a breath. “Maya.” “Yeah?” “The fitting room footage. You were recording, weren’t you?” Maya paused. Nodded. “I was trying to capture you walking out in the dress. Ended up filming Cole fixing Sadie’s laces. It’s not the full thing, but that moment’s in there.” “Send it to me.” She forwarded the raw video immediately. I opened it. The footage was shaky but clear enough. Cole stood behind Sadie. His fingers on the laces at the back of the gown. The movements practiced. Familiar. Agonizing. And the dress. The waistline. The crinoline. The train. Every detail was something I’d confirmed with my own eyes two days ago. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. This was a receipt. I took the boutique payment records screenshot. The wedding expense master sheet. The corresponding bank transfer records. Dragged them all into a single folder. Attached the video. Then I opened a new message in the group chat. Recipients: Bridesmaids, Groomsmen, and Wedding Planning Core Group. I wrote one line. “Cole says it was a misunderstanding. Let’s clear up the misunderstanding. Please see attachments.” Attachment one: Boutique payment records screenshot. Payer: Eleanor Vance. Attachment two: Master wedding expense breakdown. Personally fronted items highlighted in red. Attachment three: Today’s fitting room video. Attachment four: Screenshots of Cole’s three private messages from today. Send. Maya watched me set the phone down. It took her a moment to find her voice. “Ellie…” “He said it was a misunderstanding.” I looked out the window. “I’m just helping him clarify.” The moment the messages went through, the group chat went dead silent. But I knew. The real second half was just beginning.

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