Category: English

We met when we were five, and we had our mate ceremony at twenty-five. Damian guarded me for twenty long years. Even though my inner wolf had never awakened, he still claimed me as his only Luna. Everyone in the Frostveil Pack said I was his entire world. Until I discovered the devastating truth—my inner wolf finally woke up, and the very first thing she smelled on Isabella was Damian’s scent. A scent that meant Damian had marked her. So, the reason he refused to mark me for the past seven years wasn’t “for my own good” like he had always claimed. And the ultimate irony? When I was miscarrying our babies, he was in Isabella’s bed. He even pointed a finger at me, accusing me of framing his precious Isabella: “Evelyn, how did you become so malicious?” I just laughed. He asked me why I didn’t explain, why I didn’t fight back, why I didn’t beg for mercy. Explain what? Explain how the twins in my womb were literally killed by the sheer heartbreak he caused? Or explain that Isabella, the girl playing weak and innocent by his side, was never his fated mate to begin with? I didn’t say a single word. I simply vanished from his world, erasing myself as cleanly as if he had never loved me. But Damian, why are you searching the entire world like a madman now that I’m gone?

Evelyn POV Everyone believed I was the center of Damian’s universe. He had protected me for twenty years. From a reckless teenager to the powerful Alpha of the Frostveil Pack, he would have burned down half the city if I so much as frowned. But that very same Damian had spent the last seven years weaving a web of lies that completely ruined my life. … I was born in the Moonclaw Pack. My parents died when I was young, and I was raised by my grandfather, the Alpha. I was supposed to be the next in line, but my inner wolf never showed up. After my grandfather passed away, I willingly gave up my right to lead. I handed the Moonclaw Pack over to Oliver, our loyal Beta. Then, I left the pack territory. I went to a university in the city, studied fashion, and eventually followed my dream of becoming a bridal designer. Using the inheritance my grandfather left me, I opened a boutique bridal shop. Damian and I grew up together. When I turned eighteen, he swore to the Heavens that I was his fated mate. But then he told me that because my inner wolf hadn’t awakened, marking me would cause physical damage to my body. I had never heard of such a rule, but I trusted him blindly. Until recently, when my werewolf strength finally began to bleed into my veins. Today, I was planning to buy a cake to celebrate the fact that Damian and I were going to have our first son. But instead, I ran into Isabella. And I smelled Damian’s scent all over her. It was the unmistakable, deep scent of an Alpha’s mark. My fingertips turned ice-cold instantly, and my head started spinning. Isabella was the daughter of a maid from my old Moonclaw Pack. She was always the quiet, timid girl who kept her head down and spoke in whispers. When I was eighteen, she told me she wanted to leave the pack to live in the city, and I even gave her a large sum of money to help her start over. To think she had been with Damian this entire time. I couldn’t breathe. My chest ached so badly that my vision blurred. From knowing him at five to becoming his Luna at twenty-five, Damian was my religion. I loved him to my bones. I trusted him more than I trusted myself. I never tracked his location or questioned his whereabouts, because the security he gave me once made me feel invincible. But reality just slapped me right across the face. I didn’t storm over to confront them. Instead, I quietly walked back to my car. I even forgot the cake I was supposed to buy. I started the engine and drove aimlessly into the city traffic. The bright sunlight streamed through the windshield, but it couldn’t melt the freezing cold in my heart. My phone screen lit up. It was a text from Damian, written in his usual demanding tone: [I bought that blue diamond you liked at the auction today. Wash up and wait for me in bed tonight.] A rare blue diamond had gone up for auction in London recently. Damian once told me that the blue color looked exactly like my eyes, and that only I deserved to wear it. I stared at the screen, feeling nothing but disgust. Before I knew it, I had parked my car near the entrance of a private marina. Through the iron gates, I spotted a familiar yacht. It was the yacht Damian had gifted me for my twentieth birthday. There he was, standing on the deck, holding another woman in his arms. The woman was wearing a white sundress, her long hair blowing in the wind. It was Isabella. On the table in front of them sat the small cake Isabella had just bought. Isabella scooped up a bite of cake and fed it to Damian. He smiled and took it. In the next second, Damian cupped the back of her neck and pulled her into a passionate kiss. The cheers of the guests on board were carried away by the ocean breeze, sounding distant and muffled. Memories of our past flashed through my mind like a cruel movie. At eighteen, when my grandfather died and my wolf still hadn’t emerged, Damian held me at the funeral. He swore he would protect me forever. For him, I turned down an offer from the top design school in Paris and stayed at a local college. At twenty, when a star player on the college football team sent me roses, Damian beat him so badly the guy ended up in the hospital with multiple fractures. He then filled my entire car with thousands of red roses, declaring possessively in front of the whole campus: “Evelyn is mine. Anyone who touches her dies.” At twenty-two, when the pack elders pressured him to find a capable Luna who actually had a wolf, he proudly announced to the entire pack that I was the only Luna the Frostveil Pack would ever have. Once, I thought those were proofs of his deep, burning love for me. Now, those sacred vows felt like nothing but a sick joke. I laughed until tears streamed down my face, my entire body shaking. Twenty-five years. I had spent my entire life loving a man, only to realize I was the only one moved by it. If that was the case, then this man who occupied my entire existence needed to be ripped out of my life. I wiped my tears, bypassed our house, and went straight to Oliver. “Oliver,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Do you want to become stronger?” Oliver blinked, completely caught off guard. “I want to ruin Damian,” I said. “I might not be your fated mate, but I carry the Alpha bloodline. If you mark me, your power will multiply. The Frostveil Pack has been taking over our territory since my grandfather died. I want you to take it all back. Actually, I want the Frostveil Pack to vanish completely.” Oliver stared at me for a very long time. I thought he was hesitating because of the consequences. “You don’t have to worry. My wolf is finally waking up. And I won’t cling to you. If you want to reject me afterward, you can do it whenever—” Before I could finish, he looked into my eyes and said, “Okay.”

Evelyn POV When I got back to the villa, Damian was already waiting. He was sitting on the sofa, his dark eyes drilling into me like ice picks. “Where have you been all afternoon?” He couldn’t reach me for hours, and his patience had clearly run out. I looked at him, but all I could see was the image of him kissing Isabella on the yacht. “Why aren’t you talking?” Seeing my silence, Damian stood up and stepped closer. He wrapped his long arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “Do you want me to punish you again?” At the word “punish,” my body went stiff. I remembered when I was twenty. We had a huge fight, and I ran off to go surfing at the beach to blow off steam. Damian went absolutely crazy. He deployed the entire pack guard to search the city. When he found me, he locked me in our beach house for two full months. It wasn’t until I cried and begged, swearing I would never disappear again, that he finally let me go with bloodshot eyes. I was afraid of him. I was terrified of his suffocating, obsessive control. Right now, I couldn’t let him notice anything. I couldn’t let him know I was planning to run. “I…” I clenched my fists, forcing myself to calm down. My voice shook slightly. “I went to the hospital… to ask the doctor about some tests.” I couldn’t tell him I was pregnant. I was already three months along. Sure enough, Damian’s expression softened, and the grip on my waist loosened. He assumed I had gone behind his back to do those painful fertility treatments again. Immediately, a look of deep pain and guilt washed over his face. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his voice deep and raspy. “Didn’t I tell you not to go anymore? I told you, having you is enough for me. I don’t want to see you suffer through those painful procedures.” If this were yesterday, I would have been deeply moved by his words. Today, it just made me sick. Damian’s phone rang. He answered it, muttered a few quick words, and hurriedly left the house. Half an hour after he left, my phone buzzed. An unknown number sent me an audio file. I tapped play. Damian’s familiar voice, mixed with the clinking of glasses, filled the quiet room. “…Isabella is four months pregnant. I have to give her a proper title.” His friend’s shocked voice followed. “What about the girl at your house? I thought you loved Evelyn to death.” “Evelyn can’t conceive,” Damian’s voice sounded incredibly tired. “But the Elder Alpha insists that the Frostveil Pack needs a pureblood heir.” My face drained of all color. In the recording, his friend sighed. “The Elder Alpha’s control is getting out of hand. If he hadn’t forbidden you from marking Evelyn back then, and literally forced you to feed her those wolfsbane suppressants to prevent her from conceiving, you wouldn’t be in this mess right now.” Wolfsbane suppressants… It felt like a lightning bolt struck me. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I remembered seven years ago, the morning after the Luna Gala. Damian had handed me a cup of herbal tea with a strange, bitter smell. He told me it was a special blend to help with my weak constitution. So, from the very beginning, he had been poisoning me. From our very first night. At the end of the recording, Damian murmured, “I love Evelyn. That will never change. We grew up together, and she’s perfect as a Luna. But Isabella… she’s my fated mate. When I’m with her, I feel a passion I’ve never felt before.” His friend snorted, hitting the nail on the head. “You’re just greedy. You want a passionate mistress, but you also want a quiet, obedient Luna to keep your house.” The recording cut off. My knees buckled, and I slid down to the cold floor, clutching my phone. He loved me? He loved me with a fake mate bond and a lifetime of poison?

Evelyn POV I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. Crying was useless. But right then, a sharp, stabbing pain bloomed in my lower abdomen. It felt like a hot blade was twisting inside me. The pain didn’t fade. Instead, it grew worse by the second, and cold sweat instantly drenched my back. With shaking fingers, I dialed Dr. Hale’s number. Marcus was my closest human friend. He was a doctor, and he was one of the few humans who knew about the werewolf world. I couldn’t go to the pack doctor. If I did, Damian would find out immediately. “Marcus, my stomach hurts so badly…” My voice cracked with pure terror. “Please save my babies. Help me save them.” Marcus’s panicked voice came through the speaker. “Don’t panic! Get to the clinic right now. I’m clearing my schedule!” Half an hour later, I arrived at the private clinic alone. The pain was so intense that my face was completely pale. I wore a large trench coat, sunglasses, and a hat, leaning heavily against the wall just to take a step. But as I rounded the corner of the VIP corridor to take a shortcut to Marcus’s office, I ran straight into the last person I wanted to see. Damian. He was carefully shielding Isabella, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, keeping the passing nurses from bumping into her. He looked so protective, exactly the way he used to look when he shielded me. The sheer irony of the scene made the pain in my stomach explode. I froze, clutching my abdomen, watching them walk past me just a few yards away. “I’m sorry. If it weren’t for keeping this from Evelyn, I would have had the pack healer look at you,” Damian murmured, his voice dripping with worry. Isabella leaned against his chest, her voice sweet and submissive. “It’s okay, Damian. I’m just an unranked wolf. To be able to carry your child is more than enough for me.” Damian’s eyes softened even more. He kissed the top of her head. “You are always so understanding.” He paused, his tone turning slightly annoyed. “Unlike Evelyn. She always demands this and that. I wish she were even half as mature as you.” Right. I was the demanding one. In that moment, I felt a rush of warm liquid escaping my body. Then I heard him say, “That blue diamond from the auction—once I get it, I’ll have it set into a ring for you. Consider it my gift to you.” So, the blue diamond that allegedly looked like my eyes was actually meant for her. “Oh,” Isabella suddenly said, “does Evelyn like the brooch you gave her last time? I spent a lot of time picking it out. I hope she can be nice to my baby for my sake.” Their baby? I heard Damian’s low chuckle. “Silly girl. Of course she likes it. I already told her that once you give birth, we will take the baby and raise it as our own. That’s the only way our child can legally inherit the pack. Don’t worry, she will respect you as the child’s biological mother.” So, under the assumption that I was barren, he had already planned my entire future. He wanted me to raise his bastard child with another woman. No, they were the true mates. I was just the outsider occupying the Luna seat. A wave of fury and grief crashed over me. The pain in my abdomen reached its peak, and my legs gave out. I couldn’t listen anymore. I turned around, trying to drag myself to Dr. Hale’s emergency room. Just as I took a few steps, my phone rang. It was Damian. “Where are you, babe? I got breakfast and roses ready for you, but you’re not home,” his voice was warm, like he was coaxing a toddler. I leaned against the freezing wall, feeling the life draining out of me. “Are you overthinking again?” he said softly. “Don’t worry. If you really want a child, we can adopt one in a few months. I’ll make sure you get to be a mother, okay?” Adopt one? While my own children’s lives were slipping away, he was talking to me about adoption? “No need…” I spoke into the phone, my voice so weak it sounded like a whisper from the grave. “The babies… are already gone.” The phone slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. Before darkness swallowed me, I saw a bright, terrifying pool of red spreading across the white tiles. Damian, you killed our babies. You did this.

Evelyn POV When I woke up, the surgery was already over. Marcus stood by my bed, holding a medical chart, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Evelyn, I’m so sorry… You were hemorrhaging when you got here. We did some tests, and it looks like a combination of severe emotional shock and a chemical rejection in your body. We tried our best, but we couldn’t save them.” I stared at the ceiling, tears silent as they soaked into my hair. There was no screaming. Just a hollow, empty silence. “It’s not your fault, Marcus,” I whispered. “He killed them before they even had a chance.” He had killed our past, and now he had killed our future. With the last physical connection to him severed, Damian and I were finally done. Marcus paused, lowering his voice. “I suggest you go back to your pack and have a trusted healer look at you. Your body… it’s healing at an abnormal speed. Luckily, I was the lead surgeon, so no one else noticed.” I nodded. Placing a hand on my stomach, I could indeed feel a warm, strange current flowing through my icy veins. “My wolf,” I whispered. “She’s waking up.” Marcus’s eyes lit up. “That’s amazing!” I gave him a weak smile, but shook my head. He didn’t know that even if my power fully returned, I had no intention of staying here. Despite my weakness, I couldn’t bear to lie in that bed for another second. The phone on the nightstand buzzed. It was an image and a location pin from an unknown number. The image was of a wedding dress I had designed myself. It was my proudest creation. The location pin was for the most luxurious bridal boutique in New York. A boutique that I owned. I ripped the IV out of my hand, ignoring Marcus’s protests. I changed into my clothes and took a cab to the boutique. The cab pulled up across the street from the shop. I sat in the backseat, feeling that unfamiliar power coursing through my body. She was repairing me. My wolf. In my darkest hour, she had finally come to save me. But it was too late to save my babies. Through the large glass windows of the boutique, I immediately spotted Damian and Isabella. He was holding her, his eyes filled with adoration. “I can’t give you a public ceremony yet, but I still want to see you in the most beautiful wedding dress in the world.” Just then, several luxury sports cars pulled up in front of the store. The doors opened, and a group of familiar faces stepped out. Kael Blackwood and several others. They were all our mutual friends, people who had witnessed my twenty-five-year relationship with Damian. I rolled down my window slightly, and their voices drifted across the street. “Is Damian really doing this for Isabella? Isn’t he worried Evelyn will find out?” “Why would he worry? He never marked Evelyn anyway, so she won’t feel a thing. Besides, the girl has an heir in her belly right now. Keeping her happy is the priority.” So, everyone knew. I was the only fool kept in the dark by the entire world. I had just lost my babies, and here they were, celebrating the upcoming birth of another. My hands shook with rage. The hatred inside me was the only thing keeping me upright. Using my master key, I slipped into the boutique through the back door and went straight to the third-floor VIP balcony. I stood in the shadows, looking down coldly at the pathetic farce below. Damian was dressed in a tailored tuxedo, and Isabella was wearing that dress. The dress I had spent countless sleepless nights designing to commemorate my first kiss with Damian. Now, another woman was wearing it, receiving blessings from my friends. “Put the ring on! Put the ring on!” The crowd cheered, and Kael whistled. Damian pulled out a midnight-blue velvet box and dropped to one knee. From my high vantage point, I could see it clearly. Inside was a custom Cartier ring set, identical to the ones we had chosen years ago. Even the sacred symbol of commitment wasn’t unique. Just as Damian was about to slip the ring onto Isabella’s finger— I pulled the master power switch. The entire boutique plunged into pitch-black darkness. Then, I pressed the remote control in my hand. A single, powerful spotlight beamed down from the ceiling, shining directly on me on the third-floor balcony.

Evelyn POV The guests froze, their glasses suspended in mid-air. The smile on Isabella’s face shattered. “Ev… Evelyn?” Damian’s face drained of color. He looked terrified. He instinctively pushed Isabella away, ran up the stairs to the third floor, and threw his arms around me. “Let me explain!” he stammered, his voice trembling. “This is just a rehearsal! I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary!” He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out the ring, and tried to force it onto my finger. But the size was wrong. It got stuck painfully at my knuckle. “Isabella!” Damian screamed down the stairs, not even looking back. “Tell Evelyn the truth!” Isabella’s eyes welled with tears, her voice dripping with submission. “Evelyn, it’s true. Damian planned this surprise for you. I was just helping him rehearse.” Damian clung to her words like a drowning man, tightening his grip on me. “Evelyn, you are the only one I’ve ever loved. How could I ever betray you…” What a disgusting hypocrite. Isabella sniffled, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I wish Damian and Evelyn a lifetime of happiness. I hope you guys have your own baby soon.” Their own baby… A wave of pain shot through my abdomen. Isabella couldn’t keep up the act anymore. She covered her face and ran out of the shop. “Isabella!” Damian roared. He pushed me away so violently that I lost my balance, slamming hard against the wooden railing. My vision went black for a second from the pain. And just like that, he left me and all our friends standing there as he chased after her. As soon as Isabella ran out, she dashed toward a black sedan parked by the curb. Damian caught up to her, opened the driver’s door, and started the engine. The car roared to life, tires screeching against the asphalt. But just as the sedan sped into the intersection, a massive semi-truck blasted through the red light, slamming violently into the passenger side. BOOM! The screech of tearing metal echoed through the street. The sedan flipped twice before landing upside down in the middle of the road, debris scattering everywhere. Damian, covered in blood, crawled out of the shattered window. He ripped the passenger door open with his bare hands and pulled a bleeding, unconscious Isabella out. Isabella was just an unranked wolf; she didn’t have the rapid healing powers of an Alpha. She lay in his arms, her breath shallow. “Save… save our baby…” Damian looked back at me, standing on the balcony. The eyes that once held nothing but love for me were now filled with pure, unadulterated hatred. With all his strength, he screamed up at me, “Evelyn! I told you it was just a rehearsal! Why didn’t you believe me? Why did you have to kill her and my baby?!” The accusation hit me like a physical blow. The friends downstairs rushed out, pointing fingers at me. Kael was the first to speak. “Don’t you know how much Damian loved you, Evelyn? He even banished Isabella, who loved him for years, from the pack for five years just for you! This rehearsal was for you! She was just helping him!” Another friend chimed in, “Yeah, Evelyn, why are you so heartless? Isabella is so innocent. She just loved Damian. Why did you have to drive her to her death?” Their twisted accusations rained down on me. I looked at their self-righteous faces and suddenly burst into laughter.

Evelyn POV My friends twisted the truth, blaming me. It was laughable. These were the same people who once raised their glasses to toast to Damian and my eternal happiness. Now, they stood on a moral high ground. In their eyes, Damian’s five-year affair was completely excusable, and I was the malicious, unreasonable one for not stepping aside. Isabella was rushed to the hospital. Damian called the pack healer to the human clinic. Miraculously, the baby survived. Damian knelt by Isabella’s bed, whispering to her unconscious form with a mix of relief and regret: “Isabella, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. I should have never let my past feelings for her make me weak.” “You are my fated mate. I can’t lose you. I loved the wrong person all along.” Loved the wrong person. Those words sliced through my heart. Standing in the shadows of the hospital corridor, I remembered when Damian held me at eighteen, telling me I was his fated mate. Even though I didn’t have a wolf to feel the bond, I had been happy for years. I also remembered that it wasn’t me who insisted on staying. I could have gone to the best design school in Paris, living my life like a normal human. My grandfather’s inheritance was more than enough to give me a luxurious, peaceful life. I regretted everything. If I had known this love would turn so ugly, I would have never started it. I decided to leave. I took one last look at the man crying over another woman, turned around, and walked toward the elevator. Behind me, I heard a heavy thud. Damian had collapsed onto the floor. But this time, I didn’t turn back. Damian, you taught me how it feels to be abandoned. I will remember it well. I got back to the villa late at night. I opened my phone. The pack’s social media feeds were flooded with posts from our mutual friends. They were all reposting videos of Damian putting the ring on Isabella’s finger, with the same caption: [Happy 5th Anniversary to Damian and Isabella! Stay happy forever!] In the photos, he looked incredibly devoted, and she was smiling like a queen. The whole city was celebrating “Isabella.” What a joke. My phone rang. It was Elder Alpha Reginald. “Get to the hospital right now! Damian needs you!” the old man commanded, his voice cold and arrogant. I stared out at the dark night, my voice devoid of any warmth. “Elder Alpha, Damian and I are nothing to each other. I have no obligation to save him. Also, thank you for your ‘generosity’ seven years ago. Because of you, I don’t even have to go through the official rejection process.” I hung up and blocked everyone from the Frostveil Pack. A clean break. I didn’t sleep that night. I pulled out my boxes and started packing every single thing that had to do with Damian. I was going to burn my past to ash.

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My other failed attempt at sex ended in absolute disaster. Julian completely lost his mind. He grabbed the bedside lamp and slammed it violently at me. A sharp shard of glass sliced across my forehead, and warm blood began to trickle down my cheek. Meanwhile, he curled up in the corner of the room, clutching his head in agony, whimpering over and over again: “I’m sorry… Vivian, I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.” Three years ago, during that horrific house fire, he had pulled me out of the flames. In doing so, his lower body was severely burned. The doctors told us he would never be able to perform as a normal man again. Since then, every failed attempt at intimacy became a trigger that sent him into a violent spiral of rage and self-loathing. I thought this was a psychological trauma he just couldn’t overcome. So, no matter how many times he ended up putting me in the hospital, I never blamed him. I even begged my father to give him an executive position in our family company. I showered him with shares, luxury apartments, and supercars, doing everything in my power to make up for what I felt I owed him. Until tonight, when I went to pick him up from a club because he was wasted. Outside the VIP lounge, I heard a voice laughing from inside: “Yo, Julian, I thought you were impotent? How did you manage to keep your cute little secretary in bed for three days straight?” Julian let out a lazy, arrogant chuckle. “I lied to Vivian, obviously.” “A simple lie, and she’s been so consumed by guilt that she’d give me anything. I’ve practically beaten her half to death, yet she’s still too guilty to divorce me. She’s even planning to sign over her family inheritance to me.”

“Julian, babe, let me go. What if your old lady shows up and catches us? She’ll kill me.” The girl speaking was his secretary, Chloe. She was twenty-two, a fresh college graduate—young, soft, and pretty. As she spoke, she snuggled deeper into Julian’s chest. The lounge erupted in dirty jokes and cheers. Amused by her clingy act, Julian pinched her cheek affectionately. “Are you really that scared of her?” “Don’t worry. With me here, nobody touches you.” “Besides, once I get my hands on her family’s company, I’m divorcing her anyway.” Chloe sniffled, putting on a victim act. “Last week, I just made Vivian a cup of coffee, and she poured the whole scalding mug over me in front of everyone, accusing me of trying to hurt her.” She was talking about last week, when I had a severe allergic reaction and went into anaphylactic shock because she secretly put dairy milk in my coffee. I almost choked to death on my own swollen throat in the ER. At the time, Julian rushed to the hospital and screamed at her. When he threatened to fire her, I was actually the one who begged him to let her keep her job. But now, the man’s eyes darkened with lust as he gently wiped away her fake tears. “Don’t worry. She already drank the wine spiked with the aphrodisiac tonight. In a bit, we’ll watch her writhe in desperate heat while we completely ignore her. Let’s consider that payback for you, okay?” Chloe’s eyes lit up, but she quickly feigned worry, tugging at his arm. “But what if she finds out? What if she makes a scene?” “Find out?” Julian’s scoff pierced through the loud bass of the music, stabbing straight into my ears. “I slip drugs into her warm milk every single night before bed, and she hasn’t suspected a thing. She actually thinks she’s just having a severe hormonal imbalance.” “Last night, she was crying in my arms, telling me she couldn’t control her physical desires anymore but was terrified of triggering my PTSD from the burns. She was literally shaking with guilt.” He paused, his voice dripping with amusement. “Honestly, watching her play the tragic, guilty wife is the funniest thing ever.” I froze outside the door. My blood turned to ice, coldness sweeping from my toes straight to the crown of my head. All those agonizing, shameful nights where I was tormented by unnatural heat. All those times I locked myself in the bathroom, sobbing under a freezing shower to wash away my desperate, uncontrollable physical urges. It was all him. He was gaslighting me. He knew exactly how guilty I felt after the accident, and how terrified I was that my sexual needs would hurt his fragile ego. Even tonight, I was on antibiotics and told him I couldn’t drink alcohol. But he just said, “Vivian, it’s Chloe’s birthday. Don’t be a party pooper.” Because I didn’t want to upset him, I drank it. Now, my stomach was churning violently. I bit my lip so hard it bled, running straight to the hallway restroom before I let out a gut-wrenching sob. I cried until my eyes ran dry, my heart shattered into a million jagged pieces. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a custom ringtone. I picked up. Julian’s deep, soothing voice came through: “Viv, aren’t you back yet?” I took a few deep breaths to steady my voice. “Almost there.” “Have you been crying?” He was always incredibly sharp at reading my emotions. But the attention that used to make my heart flutter now felt like a cold blade twisting in my chest. “No.” Through blurry eyes, I stared at my reflection, remembering our years together. Since his discharge from the hospital, we had slept in separate rooms. Even at my most miserable moments, I only blamed myself for not being able to save him from the fire. Once, when he was drunk and about to fall, I tried to catch him, only for him to fly into a rage and throw a heavy glass bottle that left a permanent scar on my shoulder. Even then, my guilt only made me want to give him more. I begged my father to bring him into our company, giving him stocks, properties, and luxury cars. I turned a broke college student into the powerful CEO he was today. My best friend had warned me: “Vivian, you need to watch out. Men change when they get money. A guy in Julian’s position will have young girls throwing themselves at him left and right.” Back then, I had replied with absolute confidence: “He would never betray me.” I had given Julian my unconditional, blind trust. Yet, the girl he cheated on me with was the very secretary I had personally hired for him. They met because of me. And now, they were treating me like a brainless clown in my own company. I let the freezing tap water run over my hands. The biting cold was a harsh reminder that everything I believed in was a lie.

Taking one last deep breath, I pushed open the door to the VIP lounge. The loud laughter died down instantly. Chloe was sitting on Julian’s lap, the two of them locked in a passionate kiss. Julian slowly pulled away from her, spitting an ice cube into a glass. There wasn’t a single shred of guilt or panic in his eyes. He slid a slip of paper toward me on the table, offering a casual explanation: “We were playing Truth or Dare and I lost. You weren’t here, so I called you. But even if you were here, I can’t have physical contact with you without triggering my anxiety, so Chloe had to step in and help me complete the dare.” Everyone’s eyes locked onto me. Some were curious; others were dripping with mockery. I smoothed out the crumpled paper and read the messy handwriting: [Pass an ice cube using only your mouth to any member of the opposite sex in the room for one full minute.] My eyes stung, the words blurring together. I looked up at the stranger standing in front of me. He had the perfect excuse and the perfect prop. I couldn’t even find a logical reason to scream at him. But I knew we needed to get out of this loud, toxic room to talk. “I don’t feel well,” I said softly. “I want to go home.” In the past, no matter how important the event was, the moment I said those words, he would immediately stand up and leave with me. But this time, he simply turned and pointed at a bucket overflowing with ice cubes nearby. “Your face was really flushed when you were drinking earlier. I had the waiter bring this ice bucket.” “If you’re feeling too hot, just dump some ice water over your head to cool down.” My throat felt incredibly tight. I didn’t move. “I’m on antibiotics and I have a cold. I can’t do ice water.” “Just take me home, Julian.” The unnatural heat in my body was spreading, making my eyes well up with tears. “Please, Julian,” I whispered, practically begging. Our eyes locked. For a split second, a flash of surprise and hesitation crossed his face. We had been together for years. Even when he accidentally threw things at me and left me bleeding, I had never shown this kind of vulnerability in front of his friends. His hand, which was playing with a lighter, paused. But Chloe quickly cut in. “Vivian, are you still mad at me about the allergy incident? Fine, I’ll drink this whole bottle of whiskey to make it up to you.” She reached for a bottle of Macallan. It was newly opened. Julian immediately grabbed her wrist, stopping her, before turning a cold, accusing glare on me. “Vivian, stop throwing a jealous tantrum here.” “It’s Chloe’s birthday. She hasn’t even blown out her candles yet. Don’t ruin her night.” I stood frozen, watching him reach out to gently ruffle Chloe’s hair. “Don’t worry about her,” he murmured to Chloe. “She’s just not feeling well. She’s not targeting you.” Chloe instantly beamed, her tears vanishing. She wrapped her arms around Julian’s sleeve, looking up at him with adoration. “Julian, you’re the best.” Then, she shot me a smug, triumphant look from under her lashes. The atmosphere in the lounge bounced back to life. A waiter wheeled in a massive birthday cake. Everyone started singing the birthday song. Julian stood right next to Chloe, a warm smile playing on his lips. I shrank back into the shadows of the corner sofa, my body burning up from the drug. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. Across the room, Julian was looking down at Chloe as she made a wish, his gaze filled with a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in years. The moment she blew out the candles, he reached out, scooped some frosting, and playfully smudged it on the tip of her nose. “Julian! How could you! You ruined my makeup!” The girl squealed, laughing as she scooped up a handful of frosting and smeared it across his cheek. They laughed and flirted, looking exactly like a deeply in-love, normal couple. And I was just a useless spectator sitting in the dark. Watching the man I loved with all my heart cherish another woman. Julian seemed to feel my gaze, occasionally casting a brief, scanning glance toward my corner.

Chloe started cutting and handing out the cake. When the last plate was gone, she turned to me with a look of fake horror. “Oh my gosh, Vivian, I’m so sorry! I didn’t order a big enough cake. We ran out.” She wrung her hands, biting her lip. “I… I can give you my slice if you want.” But Julian grabbed her wrist, answering on my behalf. “No need. You’re the birthday girl, why should you give yours up?” “Besides, Vivian doesn’t even like sweet things.” During our first year together, Julian had spent hours making a mango cake for me. I couldn’t eat it because of my severe mango allergy, so he simply assumed I hated sweets altogether. Back then, I was so touched by his effort that I didn’t care. Only now did I realize that in all these years, he had never bothered to actually learn my preferences. Amidst the noise, a hand with clean, well-defined fingers suddenly offered me a plate of cake. The cake had been carefully cleaned; every single piece of mango had been meticulously picked off. “You drank on an empty stomach. Eat some of this to coat your stomach.” I looked up. It was Liam—Julian’s best friend. As I took the plate, I suddenly grabbed Liam’s collar and pulled him down toward me. One of the guys in the room noticed and hollered, “Hey, Julian, looks like the drug is hitting your wife. She’s mistaking Liam for you!” The entire room quieted down, everyone’s eyes darting between me and Liam. Julian didn’t even stand up. He just kept pouring himself shot after shot. He cast a lazy glance at us, completely unfazed. “She’s just out of it. She’ll realize it’s not me in a second and push him away.” “Trust me, Vivian hasn’t let another man touch her in years. But since I can’t touch her either, watch how well she tries to hold herself back. It’s actually pretty entertaining.” Now that I was drugged and “out of it,” Julian didn’t even bother to hide his malice anymore. The heat in my body clashed with a sudden, roaring wave of fury. I stopped fighting the urge. I leaned up and pressed my lips firmly against Liam’s. Time seemed to stop. The teasing and whispering in the lounge died instantly. The silence was deafening. Just as my breathing started to turn shallow and heavy, a loud crash shattered the quiet. I pulled back. Julian had swept an entire tray of glasses onto the floor. Before I could even process what was happening, Julian yanked me out of Liam’s reach and pulled me into his arms. His usually cold, distant eyes were now burning with a mixture of rage and hurt. For a split second, I was transported back to when we were teenagers. That was the exact jealous, possessive face he made when he saw other boys writing me love letters. Back then, he quit his beloved basketball team just so he could ride his bike and escort me home every single day after school. “Vivian, I hate seeing you with other guys,” he had whispered into the evening wind back then. I thought I understood him. Because of his rough childhood, he was always insecure, craving love and validation. So, when he told me he was impotent after the fire, I made sure to come home early every day. I cut off all male friends. I even let him check my phone whenever he wanted, just to give him a sense of security. Now, Julian’s raspy, dark voice vibrated in my ear. “Vivian, where are your suppressants?” He was talking about the pills he usually forced me to take to “control my hormonal issues.” “I’m not taking them today,” I whispered, pushing against his chest. “They’re bad for my health.” I forcefully wrenched myself out of his grip, stepping back. “Besides, you said physical contact with me triggers your panic attacks. You should stay away from me.” He froze. I blinked back the hot tears stinging my eyes. “You said you couldn’t touch me. But you seem perfectly fine now. Are you cured?” “I… I think my body is finally starting to accept you again,” he stammered, looking flustered. “Let’s just go home. I’ll take care of you.” He grabbed his coat and tried to drape it over my shoulders, pulling me toward the exit. “Julian…” Behind us, Chloe suddenly whimpered, clutching her lower stomach. Her face was deathly pale. “My stomach hurts so bad… I think the cold alcohol triggered my cramps. It hurts…” Julian stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at me, then looked back at Chloe. If this were yesterday, I would have been 100% confident that I was his priority. But now, my heart just felt heavy and hollow. I was drugged and weak. Chloe was having cramps. In the end, he turned around and rushed to support Chloe. The girl leaned heavily into his chest, looking at me with a pitiful, apologetic expression. “Vivian, there’s nothing going on between Julian and me. Please don’t kiss other guys just to make him mad.” “Besides, Liam was probably just too polite to reject you. He’d never actually touch you.” “Julian, go take care of Vivian. Don’t worry about me.” She coughed weakly. Julian tightened his grip around her waist, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. “Vivian, Chloe’s cramps get really dangerous. I have to take her to the hospital first.” “If you don’t want to use ice water, just take some of your meds. You’ll get through it once the peak passes.” My tears finally spilled over. Meeting my gaze, he looked away guiltily, adding, “I’ll come back for you as soon as I drop her off. I know you’re not the type to get petty over this.” I gripped the edge of the sofa, my nails nearly tearing the fabric. I looked at him and said, very calmly, “Don’t bother. Let’s get a divorce.” But when I looked up, all I saw was his hurried back as he carried Chloe out of the door. He ran so fast. Fast enough that he didn’t even hear what I said.

With their departure, the party quickly dispersed. I collapsed onto the sofa, my body curling into a tight ball as the drug ran rampant through my veins. As my consciousness started to slip, a pair of warm, strong arms wrapped around my waist. Liam lifted me effortlessly. The slight cool touch of his shirt made me crave more. The car sped through the night, eventually pulling up to my driveway. Inside the house, Liam immediately turned to search the cabinets. “I’ll find your medication.” I grabbed his hand and pinned him against the front door. Our noses brushed, our hot breaths mingling in the dark. “I don’t want meds,” I whispered. “I want you.” The hand resting on my waist stiffened. After a long, agonizing pause, his fingers slid under the hem of my dress, tracing my spine upward. The sheer heat of his touch made me shiver. Just before we crossed the line, my phone started ringing off the hook. Julian’s messages began flooding the screen one after another. [Where are you?] [Vivian, did you lock yourself in the bathroom with cold water again?] [The doctor said my condition is improving. I can force myself to hold you tonight if you need me to.] Reading his charity-like tone, I let out a mocking laugh and wrapped my arms tighter around the man in front of me. The phone kept ringing, incredibly annoying. I shut it off completely and threw it onto the rug. Liam paused, his chest heaving as he stared down at me. “He doesn’t deserve you, Vivian. Leave him.” Before I could answer, he leaned down and captured my lips. “Actually, even if you’re just using me to get back at him… I don’t care.” That night, the marriage bed I had shared with Julian creaked under a different weight for a very long time. By the time I was completely exhausted, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The next morning, I was violently shaken awake by a heavy, aggressive banging on the front door. “Vivian! Open the door! You ran home and turned off your phone? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?” “Open up! I’m here to help you get through the after-effects!” Julian’s breathless, angry voice echoed through the door. As I tried to sit up, a strong, heavy hand clamped around my waist, pulling me back down. “Don’t go,” Liam murmured, biting my earlobe softly. I gently pushed him away and slipped into a silk robe. “I have to. I need to end this once and for all.” I opened the front door. Julian’s eyes swept over me. Then, his gaze locked onto the dark, unmistakable bite marks and bruises clustering around my collarbone. Shock and explosive rage washed over his face, shattering his usual cold, arrogant composure. “What the hell is that?” I looked down at my chest casually. “I got bitten.” Julian pushed past me, balling his fists as he stormed into the bedroom—only to come face-to-face with Liam, who was walking out of the master bathroom with a towel around his waist. “What the hell did you two do behind my back?!” Julian roared. Looking at his trembling, furious face, I said nonchalantly: “Exactly what you and Chloe do when you think I’m not looking.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “439546”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

One week before the wedding, I stood outside a private room at a private club and overheard my fiancé talking with his buddies. He said he had never liked me. The one he truly liked was his childhood sweetheart, Melissa Stone. He said he had only pursued me to disgust my ex, and that he was planning to play my sex video at the wedding, then break off the engagement in public and have my reputation destroyed. He thought I would obediently walk down the red carpet and wait for him to humiliate me. But he had no idea that the video about to be played at the wedding would be a sex video of him and Melissa Stone. Jane Winters POV My name is Jane Winters. I used to be Adrian Cole’s simp, and everyone in their circle mocked me for it. I spent seven years pining after Adrian Cole, but he was cold to me from beginning to end. Five years ago, I gave up on Adrian Cole and accepted a confession from his archrival, Sebastian Grant. From then on, Sebastian Grant spoiled me like I was the center of the universe. He set off fireworks across the entire city just to celebrate my birthday. He bought a necklace worth over a hundred million just because I had glanced at it one more time. To get his parents to agree to let him marry me, he even went on a hunger strike for seven days and seven nights. I became someone everyone in their circle envied. I thought so too. Until one week before the wedding, when I went to the private club to pick Sebastian Grant up and take him home. When I reached the door of the private room, I was just about to push it open when I heard voices drifting through the crack in the door. “Sebastian, are you seriously planning to play Jane Winters’s sex video at the wedding?” A loud ringing filled my head and I froze completely, and my whole body froze in place as if I had been struck by lightning. The one speaking was Sebastian Grant’s childhood friend, Joe Harris. Normally, whenever he saw me, he would respectfully call me Ms. Winters. “Of course. Sebastian got together with Jane Winters just to disgust Adrian Cole, didn’t he?” The one who answered was another childhood friend, Daniel Carter. The excitement in his tone was practically overflowing. Everyone was talking with such enthusiasm that none of them noticed there was still someone standing outside the private room. I stood outside the door, my mind went completely numb and empty, my ears ringing, and forgetting how to react. “Tell me, when Adrian Cole sees Jane Winters’s sex video at the wedding, do you think he’ll be so pissed he coughs blood?” Roars of laughter came through the crack in the door. “Forget coughing blood. I bet he’ll be so mad he dies on the spot!” Someone let out a whistle. “It’ll be livestreamed across the internet. Where is Adrian Cole supposed to put his face then?” The group chattered over one another, their voices full of the thrill of watching a spectacle. Every time we had sex, Sebastian Grant would hold up his phone and aim it at me. I would shake my head and say no. Then he would lean over and kiss my forehead. “Be good. It won’t get leaked. I just want to watch it when I miss you, okay?” My heart had softened, and I had agreed. I never thought that was the real purpose of those videos. “Who told Adrian Cole and Sebastian to be archrivals? Otherwise, Sebastian wouldn’t have deliberately found a few thugs to assault Jane Winters just to screw with him, then play the hero and save the damsel in distress, confess to her, and put up with his disgust while dating her for five years.” My stomach clenched violently, and a sweet, metallic taste surged up into my mouth. That stormy night five years ago. Once again, Adrian Cole had left me by the roadside. A few thugs rushed out of an alley. They tore my clothes apart, covered my mouth, and dragged me deep into the alley. I struggled with everything I had, my fingernails breaking against the ground. I thought I was going to die in that alley. Sebastian Grant appeared. He beat those men off, took off his jacket and wrapped it around me, then carried me into his car. I curled up in his arms, trembling all over. He lowered his head. “It’s okay now. I’m here.” At that moment, I thought Sebastian Grant was the man I would choose for the rest of my life. I never imagined that he was the one who had orchestrated that assault. In that moment, I felt as if the hallway were spinning. The conversation inside the private room continued. “Sebastian really had foresight. Back then, he could tell Adrian Cole loved her without realizing it, so he snatched Jane Winters up early.” “Exactly. Adrian Cole regretted it later. How many times has he gone to confess to Jane Winters? But our Sebastian is just too charming. He made Jane Winters so devoted she refused to turn back.” “Right? This wedding will be the final blow to Cole. After this, he’ll never be able to hold his head up again in the capital!” They clinked their glasses again. The sound of glasses striking the table landed in my heart too. I leaned against the hallway wall, my legs going weak. Someone laughingly teased Sebastian Grant. “Sebastian, why aren’t you saying anything? You’ve treated Jane Winters so well these past five years. Don’t tell me you actually developed feelings for her?” “If Sebastian really fell for her, then he’d have shot himself in the foot!” I held my breath and stared fixedly at him through the crack in the door. I was waiting for Sebastian Grant to deny all of it. Sebastian Grant sat in the seat of honor, his long legs crossed. His expression was hidden in the shadows, dark and unreadable. The private room was quiet for a long while. At last, the man’s low voice sounded, carrying a hint of mockery. “Like her? She’s boring as hell. I’ll take the chance to break off the engagement in public at the wedding.” He said it slowly and unhurriedly. I could hardly believe those words had come from Sebastian Grant. But that was his voice. “I’ve never liked her. The only one in my heart is Melissa.” Melissa Stone, Sebastian Grant’s childhood sweetheart, the group’s favourite in their inner circle. Every time I got jealous, Sebastian Grant would say she was just like a little sister and tell me not to overthink it. “This game has gone on for five years. It’s time for it to end. On the wedding day, I’ll destroy Jane Winters completely, and Adrian Cole too.” Sebastian Grant’s tone was the same coldness and composure I knew so well. “Isn’t that move a little too ruthless? What will happen to Jane Winters afterward? That’s her sex video being livestreamed across the internet!” “What do you know? If Jane Winters’s reputation isn’t completely ruined, what if Adrian Cole marries her later?” “Exactly. Once Jane Winters has her reputation destroyed, Adrian Cole’s father will never agree to let her marry into the family.” “Sebastian’s move is brilliant!” “I can’t wait to watch Jane Winters’s little video and Adrian Cole’s dead-man face!” Laughter burst out in the private room again. So the five years of feelings had been a scam from beginning to end. The deep affection I believed in was only an act Sebastian Grant put on to get revenge on Adrian Cole. The grand wedding I believed in was the execution ground Sebastian Grant had meticulously plotted for me. I loosened my grip on the door handle. Tears fell onto the carpet without a sound. I turned and walked toward the elevator. The moment the elevator doors closed, I bent over and dry-heaved. My phone lit up. It was a message from Sebastian Grant. [Darling, when are you coming to pick me up?] He was saying he was going to destroy me, yet he was still calling me darling. I wiped away my tears and typed a reply with force. [I’m not feeling well. Find a designated driver.] When I walked out the doors of the private club, the rain came crashing down over my head and face. As if I couldn’t feel it at all, I walked into the rain. On that stormy night five years ago, Sebastian Grant had pulled me back from hell to the world of the living. On this stormy night, Sebastian Grant had knocked me from the world of the living back into hell. Rain poured into my eyes, mixing with my tears. “I’ll destroy Jane Winters completely on the wedding day.” Sebastian Grant’s words crashed around in my mind again and again. They grew louder and louder until they rang like a great bell, as if they wanted to shatter my brain. Sebastian Grant, you really are a damn good actor. Since you’ve lied to me for so long, on the wedding day, I’ll give you a grand gift too. That isn’t too much, is it?

Jane Winters POV I chased Adrian Cole for seven years. One stunning glimpse of him on the high school basketball court, and I was done for. After that, I waited by the court with water at every basketball game. Every morning, I brought him breakfast. Adrian Cole never accepted it once. The breakfasts were thrown into the trash untouched. When I greeted him, he never even lifted his eyelids. I followed him to the same university, asked around for his schedule, and signed up for every public lecture he took. After graduation, I went to the Cole family company to apply for a job. Adrian Cole called security and had me escorted out in front of my coworkers. His friends treated me like a joke, and when he heard them, he pretended not to. Until that stormy night, when Adrian Cole’s buddy pretended to be him and tricked me into going to a bar. When I got there, I realized Adrian Cole was sitting in a booth, surrounded by a group of people. He glanced at me, got up, and left without saying a word. I walked out of the bar in the rain and ran into those thugs at the mouth of the alley. Sebastian Grant just happened to appear. My seven years of obsession ended that night. Sebastian Grant spoiled me in a showy, extravagant way. People in their circle said he had picked up the trash Adrian Cole didn’t want. He didn’t care. In front of everyone, he held my hand, his eyes only on me. I believed him. I completely let go of Adrian Cole and loved Sebastian Grant with all my heart. But then Adrian Cole regretted it. He came to confess to me, and I rejected him. The tone in their circle changed overnight, and they began mocking Adrian Cole as a clown. The two archrivals fought over me for five years. But I never imagined that the real clown, from beginning to end, was me. At eleven that night, the door lock clicked. Sebastian Grant pushed the door open and came in, reeking of alcohol. When he saw me curled up on the sofa, he crossed the room in a few quick strides and pulled me into his arms. “Where do you feel unwell? Is it serious?” His hand pressed against my forehead, his tone urgent. If I hadn’t heard those words in the private room, at this moment, I definitely would have thought I was the happiest person in the world. I turned my head and avoided his hand. “I’m just tired from preparing for the wedding. It’s nothing.” Sebastian Grant didn’t get suspicious. He took my hand and led me toward the bedroom. “Then let me reward you properly.” Those words made my stomach churn. I pulled my hand back. “You reek of smoke and alcohol. It’s suffocating.” Sebastian Grant paused, then laughed. “All right, all right. I’ll go wash up.” The sound of water came from the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor lamp in the corner of the bedroom. A photo Sebastian Grant had taken of me in Bali last year was still stuck to the lampshade. In the photo, I was smiling brightly. Sebastian Grant was holding me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. The water stopped. Sebastian Grant came out while drying his hair, got into bed, and hugged me from behind. “In one more week, I’ll finally marry you, darling.” I clenched the bedsheet beneath me. “Do you really not mind that I pursued Adrian Cole before?” Sebastian Grant’s arms tightened. “Why bring him up? I told you, everything in the past is over.” He buried his face in the hollow of my neck and took a deep breath. “I only love you.” If I hadn’t heard him say with my own ears that he had never liked me, I would have believed him again. “Mm. It’s over.” Sebastian Grant’s hand slid up from my waist, restlessly exploring higher. The image of him holding up his phone flashed through my mind, and my whole body went cold. “I’m tired today. Next time.” Sebastian Grant’s hand stopped. After a pause, he pulled me a little closer into his arms. “Okay. We’ll do what you want. I’m finally going to marry you.” Sebastian Grant’s breathing gradually deepened, and the strength in his arms loosened too. I lay with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Until Sebastian Grant was completely asleep. I gently pried Sebastian Grant’s arm away and got out of bed. Sebastian Grant’s phone was on the nightstand. The password was my birthday. I unlocked it and found the encrypted folder buried deep in his album. I tried the password three times. On the third try, I entered Melissa Stone’s birthday. It unlocked. Inside were dozens of videos. All of them were of me. My stomach cramped again. Select all. Delete. Empty the trash. Exit the album. Then I opened Instagram. In the past, I trusted Sebastian Grant and had never gone through his phone. Now that the trust was shattered, I had to see everything for myself. First, I found the group chat between Sebastian Grant and his buddies. The chat history stretched from several years ago all the way to today. Joe Harris had once sent a photo of me from behind while I was cooking in the kitchen: [Jane Winters’s body is a five from the front and an eight from the back. Sebastian, how do you even put up with it?] Sebastian Grant replied with a disgusted reaction image: [With the lights off in bed, all women are the same.] Daniel Carter followed up with a string of reaction images: [Sebastian’s sacrifice is way too big. Should we give you an award?] I kept scrolling. On my birthday, Sebastian Grant had sent a message: [Have to act all lovey-dovey for half the day again today. Exhausting.] Joe Harris replied: [Thanks for your hard work, Sebastian. The buddies will take you out to relax later.] My hands were shaking. I kept scrolling and found a contact hidden in Sebastian Grant’s contacts, saved under the note Little Moon. I tapped on the profile photo. It was a side profile of Melissa Stone. This Instagram account was different from the one I had added. It was Melissa Stone’s alternate account. I used my own phone to register a new Instagram account and added Melissa Stone’s alternate account. Melissa Stone’s posts had no privacy settings. The latest one was from three days ago. A photo: Sebastian Grant’s hand rested on her waist, the two of them pressed together, cheek to cheek. The caption: [He said he’ll come to me as soon as the wedding is over. He can’t wait.] Further back was a ten-second video. Sebastian Grant was kissing Melissa Stone’s forehead, and Melissa Stone was tilting her face up with a smile. The caption was: [Only I am his darling.] Further back, Melissa Stone had posted a paragraph: [He said Jane Winters is like a dead fish in bed. Hahahahaha I’m dying.] Melissa Stone commented on her own post: [Poor tool. She still thinks she’s Mrs. Grant.] I put down the phone. Tears fell onto the screen, splashing like a flower of water and blurring that line of text. As I cried, I laughed. I got up and went to the bathroom. I turned on the faucet, and cold water splashed over my face. I looked at the shattered, devastated face in the mirror. My eyes were swollen like peaches, and the tip of my nose was bright red. “Jane Winters, don’t be afraid,” I whispered. My heart hardened inch by inch. Sebastian Grant, I hope you don’t regret this later. I returned to the bedroom and put Sebastian Grant’s phone back where it had been. Then I opened my own phone and started searching for an immigration agency. After finishing everything, I lay back down in bed. Beside me, Sebastian Grant turned over, and his arm reached for me again. I shifted toward the edge of the bed, moving farther away from him.

Jane Winters POV When I woke up, Sebastian Grant was no longer in bed. The sound of a spatula clanging came from the kitchen. “Darling, get up and eat.” Sebastian Grant carried the dishes out. On the table were heart-shaped egg toast with strawberry jam, all things I liked. I didn’t hurry out. My eyes were still a little swollen. I pressed cold water over them for ten minutes, then applied a layer of concealer. Only after confirming nothing looked off did I open the door and go out. Sebastian Grant pulled out a chair for me to sit down and pushed the soup in front of me. “After breakfast, let’s go to the office together. We have an appointment at the bridal boutique today to try on your wedding dress.” He said it with a smile, his tone full of anticipation. That wedding dress was designed by Sebastian Grant himself. He had found a workshop in France to sew it entirely by hand over three months. It was worth eight figures. Sebastian Grant had said he wanted to give me the best wedding dress in the world. To put on this show, he really had spent a fortune. I drank a mouthful of milk and swallowed it down. “Actually, it doesn’t need to be so troublesome.” Sebastian Grant ruffled my hair. “It’s not troublesome. To marry you, any amount of trouble is worth it.” I lowered my head and ate without speaking again. My phone suddenly rang. I recognized that ringtone. It was Melissa Stone’s exclusive ringtone. Sebastian Grant glanced at the caller ID, then got up and walked to the balcony. “I’ll take this call.” He slid the balcony door shut behind him. The glass cut off his conversation. But I could see him leaning against the railing, head lowered as he smiled. I looked away and continued eating. The egg was fried perfectly. But when I chewed it, it had no taste at all. Sebastian Grant hung up the phone and hurriedly pushed the door open to come in. “Sweetheart, you go to the company first. I have something urgent to take care of.” He grabbed the car keys from the table, lowered his head, and kissed my forehead. Before I could answer, he was already out the door. The door shut behind him, and the draft blew a napkin off the dining table. Anything involving Melissa Stone was always urgent. Clients could be ignored. Meetings could be canceled. One call from Melissa Stone, and he would come running whenever called. I set down my spoon. I pulled up the immigration agency I had saved last night and called them. “Hello, I want to immigrate. The sooner, the better.” “Of course, ma’am. Please submit your documents as soon as possible. The fastest we can complete everything is one week.” One week. Exactly the day of the wedding. After hanging up, I photographed each document the agency requested and sent them over. More than half the breakfast on the table was still untouched. I picked up the plate and dumped all the food into the trash. Sebastian Grant’s cooking really was good. Too bad I no longer wanted to eat it. I took a cab to the company myself. Ever since I got together with Sebastian Grant, he had asked me to work at his company. He said it was so he could see me every moment of every day. Only now did I understand. Seeing me every moment of every day was so he could keep this chess piece under his nose and prevent it from going out of control. When I arrived at the office, I shut the door and turned on the computer. For the past five years, I had worked diligently, and I knew Sebastian Grant’s company’s finances inside and out. I spent two hours organizing a detailed statement of accounts. Just as I finished, my phone rang. It was Sebastian Grant. “Sweetheart, go straight to the bridal boutique later. I won’t come pick you up.” “You’re not coming to the company?” I asked. “Didn’t you have an important client to meet this morning?” The other end of the line paused. “I still have something to take care of.” I knew what it was. No matter how important the client was, how could they compare to Melissa Stone? “Okay.” I hung up, picked up my bag, and left. The bridal boutique was in the downtown commercial district. The storefront was small, but it was top-tier in the industry. I didn’t go in. I simply stood at the glass door. Inside, the lighting was soft and expensive. Beneath the crystal chandelier, Melissa Stone stood in front of the fitting mirror. She was wearing my wedding dress. The handmade lace hugged her waist, and the train dragged across the floor. The gown fit her like it was custom-made just for her. Melissa Stone turned, the hem sweeping over the floor like a white flower in full bloom. The staff member beside her had an indescribable look on her face. She stood in the corner, eyes dodging, and no one dared to speak. I saw Sebastian Grant standing behind Melissa Stone, both hands in his pants pockets, his expression relaxed. Melissa Stone tilted her head at the mirror, then looked back at him. “Sebastian, do I look better than Jane Winters in this wedding dress?” Sebastian Grant smiled indulgently. “Our Melissa looks good in anything.” Chapter 4 Jane Winters POV I pushed the door open and walked in. The wind chime tinkled sharply as I pushed the door open. Sebastian Grant turned his head. The moment he saw me, the smile on his face froze. He quickly pulled his hands out of his pockets and strode over in a few steps, taking my hand. “Sweetheart, you got here so fast?” He stepped between Melissa Stone and me, a hint of urgency in his voice. “Melissa is just acting like a child. She’s never worn a wedding dress before. She saw that yours was pretty and wanted to try it on. Sweetheart, don’t mind her.” He looked back at Melissa Stone, his tone changing. “Stop messing around. Go change out of it.” It was completely different from the tone he had used when he said, “Melissa looks good in anything.” Melissa Stone pouted, lifted the skirt, and reluctantly walked toward the fitting room. “So petty. It’s just a wedding dress. It’s not like I care.” I stood where I was and quietly watched the scene unfold. In the past, I would have gotten angry. I would have fought with Sebastian Grant and said Melissa Stone had no sense of boundaries. Sebastian Grant would then helplessly coax me, saying I was narrow-minded, that Melissa Stone was still young and immature, and that she meant no harm. The old me really was too stupid. I believed whatever Sebastian Grant said. “I don’t mind. It’s just a piece of clothing.” Sebastian Grant froze. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be so calm. In the past, whenever something involved Melissa Stone, every thorn on my body would stand on end. He probed, “Sweetheart, you’re not angry?” “Why would I be angry?” I looked at him. “Didn’t you say she’s like your sister? Since she’s your sister, if she wants to try it on, let her.” In any case, I wouldn’t be wearing that wedding dress. It had nothing to do with me. A flicker of surprise crossed Sebastian Grant’s face. But he didn’t think too much of it. Instead, he looked relieved. “Sweetheart, I’m glad you can think that way. You’re my wife, and from now on, Melissa will be your sister too.” Sister. I wondered what kind of sister he meant. “Sebastian—” Melissa Stone’s voice came from the fitting room, dragging out the last syllable. “The dress is stuck. Come help me.” Sebastian Grant glanced back at me, then turned and ran toward the fitting room. The staff member stood to the side, her expression complicated. She looked at me sympathetically, poured a glass of warm water, and brought it over. “Why don’t you sit over there and wait for a bit?” My expression remained normal. I took the water and sat down in a chair in the resting area. The two of them didn’t come out for a long time. I had no choice but to take out my phone and scroll. The first post was a photo Melissa Stone had posted of herself trying on the wedding dress. Melissa Stone was wearing that wedding dress, standing in front of the mirror. Sebastian Grant was right beside her, his gaze falling on her with deep affection. The caption read: [The wedding dress Sebastian and I designed together. Of course I had to be the first to wear it.] Sebastian Grant had told me this wedding dress was designed for me and tailored to my measurements. So it was another lie. It had been designed for Melissa Stone. The measurements were Melissa Stone’s too. No wonder it fit so perfectly. The comments below were exactly as expected. Joe Harris: [Melissa looks insane in a wedding dress! Way prettier than Jane Winters!] Daniel Carter: [Sebastian’s taste has always been on point.] I exited the post hard and locked my screen. Melissa Stone, why are you in such a hurry? This wedding dress will be yours sooner or later. Sebastian Grant will be yours too. No one is fighting you for him. I sat in the resting area and finished three glasses of water. The fitting room door finally opened. Sebastian Grant came out first. Melissa Stone followed behind him, changed back into her own clothes, but her expression was deeply satisfied. Sebastian Grant quickly walked up to me, his face full of tenderness. “Sweetheart, come try on the wedding dress.” I got up and walked over. Just as I reached the fitting platform, there was a dull sound from above. I instinctively looked up. The enormous crystal chandelier had come loose from the ceiling and was crashing straight down. “Melissa!” Sebastian Grant’s reaction was shockingly fast. He wrapped an arm around Melissa Stone’s waist and threw them both to the side. The two of them rolled into a safe area. All I had time to do was raise my arm to protect my head and face. The crystal chandelier smashed into my shoulder, shards flying everywhere. Agonizing pain exploded from my shoulder blade and spread through my entire arm. Warm blood flowed down along my collarbone. I was knocked to the floor. The staff’s screams sounded as if they were coming from underwater. Sebastian Grant crouched three meters away, holding Melissa Stone’s face in both hands and checking her up and down. “Did it hit you? Does it hurt? Let me see.” His brows were tightly furrowed, his eyes full of heartache. Melissa Stone curled up in his arms, sobbing softly. Not even a strand of her hair had been hurt. Sebastian Grant’s gaze stayed on Melissa Stone the entire time. He did not think of me at all. Before I fainted, I saw Sebastian Grant holding Melissa Stone tightly in his arms, gently wiping the tears from her face with the back of his hand. Chapter 5 Jane Winters POV When I woke again, I was in the hospital. Sebastian Grant was sitting in the chair beside the bed. One hand was holding mine, while the other propped up his forehead, as if he had just woken from a very light sleep. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked haggard and exhausted. “Sweetheart, you’re finally awake.” He leaned toward me with a worried face and reached out to touch my forehead. The anxious look on his face didn’t seem fake. I pulled my hand free, looked away, and stared at the ceiling. Sebastian Grant’s hand froze in midair, then withdrew. “The situation was urgent at the time. Melissa was closer to me. I didn’t think.” He paused, his voice hoarse. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose.” I didn’t look at him. “How bad are my injuries?” Sebastian Grant quickly answered, “You needed a few stitches, but the bone wasn’t injured. The doctor said you can be discharged in two days.” He raised his hand and smoothed the hair scattered across my pillow. “It won’t affect our wedding. The boutique has also taken the wedding dress to be repaired. In a week, sweetheart, you’ll still be my most beautiful bride.” I had been hit so badly I needed stitches, and his first reaction was that it wouldn’t affect the wedding. What he cared about had never been me as a person. It was whether that performance could go on smoothly. I tugged at the corner of my mouth. “That’s good.” Since it wouldn’t affect the wedding, then naturally it wouldn’t affect the gift I had prepared for them, either. Nor would it affect my leaving. It really was good. For the next few days, Sebastian Grant stayed at the hospital without leaving my side. Feeding me water and meals, changing my bandages, wiping me down—he did everything himself. During the day, he had his assistant bring documents to the ward and reviewed them right beside my hospital bed. At night, after I fell asleep, he still got up to tuck in my blanket. With my eyes closed, I listened to his light footsteps as he walked over, and I found it absurd. I was already asleep. Who was he putting on the act for? On the day I was discharged, Sebastian Grant personally came to pick me up. But the car did not head in the direction of home. “Sweetheart, to celebrate your recovery, I arranged a surprise for you. Everyone is already waiting.” The car stopped in front of the private club. I looked at that familiar entrance and said nothing, following him inside. When he pushed open the private room door, all of Sebastian Grant’s buddies were there. Joe Harris was the first to stand, smiling broadly. “Jane Winters, congrats on getting discharged!” Daniel Carter also came over with a glass of wine. “Jane Winters, you’ve suffered. We’ll celebrate properly tonight.” Every single one of them was smiling like they meant it. They were the same group of people who had treated me like a joke in the private room that day. Melissa Stone was there too. She sat in the corner. When she saw me come in, she glanced at me lightly, the corners of her mouth curving slightly. Sebastian Grant pulled me down to sit and personally poured me a glass of juice. “Sweetheart, you just got discharged, so you can’t drink. Have juice today.” I didn’t think much of it. I took it and began drinking. The dinner was lively, with glasses clinking all around. Halfway through the meal, I got up to go to the restroom. As I walked down the hallway, my head began to feel heavy. My vision was a little blurry, and my legs were going weak. I leaned against the wall for a while, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Something was wrong. A hand suddenly covered my mouth. Someone dragged me from behind into the private room next door. The private room door was locked from the inside. A greasy middle-aged man shoved me onto the sofa, letting out a disgusting laugh. “Pretty little thing, you’re mine now.” I retreated in terror, but the man lunged at me like a starving wolf. I struggled desperately, but my whole body was weak, and I had no strength in my arms. Not to mention, the other party was a grown man. The difference in strength was too great. The man tore my clothes apart. “Get away! Don’t touch me!” “Pretty little thing, someone gave you to me. Just accept it.” A wave of nausea hit me. My stomach churned violently, and I almost threw up. “Help! Is anyone there? Help me!” I shouted in despair until my voice turned hoarse. “Sebastian Grant!” But no one answered. The man’s hand clamped around my neck. My vision began to blur, and all that remained in my ears was his vicious laughter and panting. I remembered that stormy night five years ago and closed my eyes in despair. How had I forgotten? Last time, Sebastian Grant had been the one who arranged those thugs in the first place, then personally came to play the hero and save the damsel in distress. How could he possibly come save me? And this time, who had arranged it? I closed my eyes in despair. The private room door was kicked open. Sebastian Grant rushed in like an asura from hell, his eyes full of violence. He grabbed the greasy man by the collar, yanked him off me, and threw him onto the floor. His fist slammed into that greasy face. The man screamed twice and collapsed to the ground. But Sebastian Grant did not stop. His fists rained down on the man. His knuckles were covered in blood. I couldn’t tell whether it was his or the man’s. Not until that man had completely passed out and gone still. Joe Harris and Daniel Carter rushed to the doorway. They were stunned by the scene before them, and neither dared to step forward and pull him away. I curled up in the corner of the sofa, trembling all over. My vision went dark, and I lost consciousness. Chapter 6 Jane Winters POV When I woke again, I found myself lying in the bed at home. Sebastian Grant was not in the room. From the living room came the sound of him on a phone call. Through the door, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I opened the computer. Sebastian Grant’s Instagram was still logged in. I clicked into that group chat and scrolled to their conversations from the past two days. Two days ago, which was the day I was hit by the crystal chandelier at the bridal boutique. Sebastian Grant: [Melissa, you went too far. If the crystal chandelier had hit Jane Winters’s face, the wedding wouldn’t be able to happen.] Melissa Stone: [Who told her to take my wedding dress? I just taught her a lesson!] Sebastian Grant: [She’s only wearing it temporarily. It’ll be yours sooner or later.] During the two days I was hospitalized, Joe Harris called for him in the group several times: [Sebastian, come out for a drink? Stop guarding her. No need to bother with her anymore, right?] Daniel Carter also joined in the teasing: [Sebastian, you’re way too dedicated. You don’t have to go this hard for an act, do you?] Sebastian Grant did not reply to any of it. Melissa Stone couldn’t sit still anymore and questioned him directly: [Are you actually in love with Jane Winters?] Joe Harris reminded him: [Yeah, Sebastian. She liked Adrian Cole for seven years. She was Adrian Cole’s simp.] Daniel Carter echoed: [Who knows what she and Adrian Cole have done together? Sebastian, don’t lose your head.] Someone else said: [Sebastian, we’ve spent so many years preparing this plan. There are only a few days left. We can’t fail at the last step.] After a long time, Sebastian Grant replied with two words: [I won’t.] Melissa Stone refused to let it go: [Then call Jane Winters to the private club and drug her yourself. I’ll get someone to sleep with her. Then I’ll believe you!] So that was it. The crystal chandelier had been premeditated by Melissa Stone. The so-called celebration of my recovery had all been a cover. Sebastian Grant and the others had planned to hurt me! There had been something in the glass of juice Sebastian Grant handed me, and he had put it there with his own hands. That greasy man had been found by Melissa Stone. Sebastian Grant knew the whole time and cooperated with it. A new message popped up. It was a voice message Melissa Stone had just sent. Melissa Stone was crying so hard she could barely breathe: [Sebastian, why did you save her? Did you really fall for her? Do you not love me anymore?] After a while, Sebastian Grant replied: [Melissa, don’t overthink it. If something happened to her this time, what would we do if the wedding couldn’t go on? Once the wedding is over, you can play with her however you want, okay?] I let out a miserable laugh. The fury in my heart was beyond words. I forced myself to stand, walked into the walk-in closet, and began packing my things. Over the past five years, Sebastian Grant had given me countless things. Limited edition bags, full sets of jewelry, the latest top-tier haute couture clothes. Once, all of these had been proof that he loved me. Now, I tossed these priceless things into cardboard boxes like I was throwing away garbage. Sebastian Grant heard the noise and pushed the door open. “Sweetheart, you just woke up. What are you busy with?” He looked at the closet that was already more than half empty, his handsome brows drawing together. The empty room seemed to make him uncomfortable. “When we move into the marital home in a few days, we’ll have to bring all these things over anyway. I might as well pack early.” I didn’t lift my head. I answered in a normal tone while continuing to put things into the boxes. Sebastian Grant’s brows relaxed, and a smile appeared in his eyes. He was very satisfied with my answer, thinking I was preparing for their future married life. “Don’t wear yourself out.” He walked over and pulled me up. “I’ll have someone clean all this up. You just woke up, so rest properly and focus on being my bride.” I nodded. Perfect. I really didn’t want to touch any of it anyway. Sebastian Grant gave the servants a few instructions, changed into another jacket, and left. He was probably going to coax his little childhood sweetheart. The servants worked quickly. In less than an hour, they had packed everything into boxes. I called a secondhand luxury goods buyer. It was rare for them to run into such a major client, so they brought an appraiser straight to the door. Wearing gloves, the appraiser examined each item one by one, shaking his head as he looked. “These are all brand-new. Some styles are even sold out at the boutiques. Are you sure you want to sell them all?” “All of them. Cash payment.” In less than two hours, all the boxes were loaded into the buyer’s truck. My phone received a text notification from the bank confirming the deposit. The number was long enough to keep me fed and clothed for the rest of my life. I deleted the message, opened a ticket-booking app, and booked a flight for the day of the wedding.

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I fell in love with Beckett from the varsity swim team at first sight. My roommate encouraged me to go after him, eagerly offering to act as my wingman. She coached me on how to be sweet, how to flirt, and insisted that I call him “handsome” every time we crossed paths. She even went so far as to buy me a form-fitting swimsuit, telling me to wear it to ask Beckett for private swimming lessons. But despite chasing him relentlessly for two months, to the point where even his teammates were starting to root for me, he remained completely indifferent. It wasn’t until today that my roommate giggled, stuck her tongue out, and finally confessed. “To be honest, that online boyfriend I told you about? It’s actually Beckett. I only had you pursue him to test his loyalty. But I never expected him to be so strong. He managed to reject a total catch like you. I’m sorry, sweetie, but I guess I can’t let you have him after all.” 1 The dormitory fan buzzed overhead, cutting through the heavy afternoon heat. I sat frozen in my desk chair, my mind completely blank as I tried to process Sienna’s words. “What do you mean, your online boyfriend is Beckett?” “Oh, Sweetie, you aren’t actually mad, are you?” Seeing my lack of response, Sienna set down her vanity mirror and stuck her tongue out playfully. “Honestly, it’s because you’re just so gorgeous.” “Think of it as vetting him for your best friend. You were the one who kept saying you were worried I’d get scammed online, so now you know his character is absolutely solid.” I clenched my fists, my fingernails biting into my palms as the sharp sting of betrayal began to spread. Sienna had started dating a guy online over the summer. She had told me he was a sports major at Kensington University, our own school. Halfway through the summer, she had been desperate to cut her vacation short and fly back to meet him in person. Afraid she would get taken advantage of, I had spent days convincing her to wait until the semester started. I had no idea the guy was Beckett. “Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning?” When I finally spoke, my voice was incredibly hoarse. Sienna offered a breezy, dismissive laugh. “I was insecure, okay? Beckett is handsome, wealthy, and you are so dazzling. When you told me you fell for him at first sight, I genuinely wanted to help you. I just had no idea he was already so deeply in love with me.” I stared at her face, a wave of intense humiliation washing over me. For the last two months, Sienna had eagerly acted as my wingman. She knew every text I sent him, every conversation we had, and every time we crossed paths. She had analyzed his favorite foods, his hobbies, and his ideal type for me. She had urged me to leave breakfast outside his dorm, to arrange “accidental” meetings at the gym. She had even purchased a form-fitting swimsuit for me, insisting I wear it to ask him for swimming tips. And all the while, she was dating him behind my back. I was nothing but a puppet to her. A clown in her private show. “Iris, seriously, don’t be like this,” Sienna said, crossing her arms and sighing as if my silence were completely unreasonable. I had always valued our friendship. Whenever she adopted that wounded expression, I would back down to keep the peace. But not today. “So what do you want? Should I just hand him over to you?” I looked up at her. “Fine. He’s yours.” Sienna blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Are you joking?” Before I could answer, she quickly added, “Oh, come on. My best friend would never try to steal my boyfriend. Besides, they say best friends and partners never get along. Once you see him again, you’ll probably realize you can’t stand him.” I watched her in silence, refusing to offer her the comfort of an argument. Suddenly, the dormitory door was kicked open with a loud bang. 2 Our roommate, Valerie, burst into the room, panting. “Ladies! The swim finals are about to start! Why are you two still sitting in the dorm?” I blinked, momentarily disoriented. I had almost forgotten. This afternoon was the university swim championship. Last night, Valerie and our other roommate, Tessa, had spent hours planning a grand post-race confession for me to deliver to Beckett. I looked over at Sienna, who was wearing a flawless face of makeup. No wonder she had remained so uncharacteristically quiet during our brainstorming session last night. “I’m not going,” I said flatly. “What? Why?” Valerie asked, pausing as she searched her bag. Sienna’s expression shifted instantly. She grabbed my hand, her eyes pleading. “Iris, please. I want to surprise him today. You promised you’d be there when I finally met my online boyfriend. I’ll be too nervous without you. Please come with me.” Before I could shake her off, Valerie grabbed my other arm. “Exactly! Let’s go! Tessa has been saving a prime seat for you since early morning, making sure you’re the very first person Beckett sees when he climbs out of the pool!” The refusal died in my throat when I caught the smug, triumphant glint in Sienna’s eyes. I had done nothing wrong. If she wasn’t afraid of a confrontation, why should I be? Valerie was always impatient. Without waiting to see if Sienna could keep up in her platform heels, she dragged me out of the dorm and sprinted toward the natatorium. 3 By the time we arrived at the pool, we had left Sienna far behind. Tess immediately stood up, waving us over to the front-row seat she had secured. “I came straight here after my morning lecture. Pretty impressive, right?” I forced a tight smile. “Thank you, Tess.” Valerie shrugged, settling into the seat beside me. “Of course. Though, there’s a senior from the law department competing today. He’s incredibly popular, and I hear his times are insane. I’m not sure Beckett can pull off a win. Iris, if he loses, are you still going to confess?” I looked down at the staging area where Beckett was standing. He was staring at his phone, looking thoroughly distracted. One of his teammates spotted me and nudged his shoulder, pointing in our direction. Beckett glanced up, his brow furrowing as he saw me. I let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. During my months of pursuing him, I had been too blinded by my crush to realize his cool indifference was actually irritation. Even the sight of me was enough to make him frown. Before he could catch me staring, I turned back to Valerie. “No. I won’t be confessing.” Valerie nodded understandingly. “That makes sense. It’s probably awkward to confess right after a loss. We can always wait for the next meet.” I shook my head. “Whether he wins or loses, I am never confessing to him again.” 4 Valerie and Tess stared at me in absolute shock. “Actually,” I began, my voice tight, “Beckett is—” “Why didn’t you guys wait for me?” Sienna’s complaining voice cut me off as she finally caught up, her face flushed from running. Valerie squeezed closer to Tess, gesturing to the small space beside her. “I was worried Iris would miss the warm-ups. Sit down, the introductions are starting.” Sienna didn’t sit. Instead, she stood directly in front of me, pouty-lipped. “Iris, do you mind letting me have your seat?” Val and Tess looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “The race is about to start, stop joking around,” Valerie said, grabbing Sienna’s arm and pulling her firmly into the empty seat. Over the loudspeaker, the announcer began introducing the swimmers. Sienna bit her lip, shooting me a sharp glare before reluctantly settling into her seat. It was almost amusing. She was the one who had insisted I come to witness her grand reveal, yet now she was furious that I was sitting in the front row. Beckett was assigned to lane two. The student broadcaster happened to be Beckett’s roommate, and when his name was called, the camera on the jumbotron panned directly to my face. Thanks to Sienna’s constant encouragement, my pursuit of Beckett was public knowledge. She had always told me that a bold chase was the most romantic, which led to my confessions being shared on the campus forum. “Ooh!” Valerie and Tess led the crowd in a playful cheer. Normally, I would have smiled and waved for the camera. Today, I simply looked away, my expression completely blank. As I turned my head, I noticed Sienna’s hand tightening around her plastic water bottle until it bent out of shape. The announcer continued down the lanes. When the final swimmer was introduced, a sudden, loud murmur swept through the spectator stands. “Oh my god, it’s Sebastian Kingsley!” Tess gasped, jumping to her feet. I looked down at the tall, broad-shouldered senior stepping up to lane eight. In that instant, a realization washed over me. I hadn’t actually been in love with Beckett. I had simply been attracted to tall, athletic, good-looking guys. And Sebastian was all of those things, and more. Even with his hair tucked beneath a plain black swim cap, his sharp features and effortless grace were undeniable. Tess nudged me, her eyes sparkling. “Well? Sebastian is easily on par with Beckett, right?” “Better,” I murmured, watching him step onto the block. “Much better.” Sienna let out a sharp, cold scoff from beside us. Tess shot her a glare. “Do you have a problem?”

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1 When my mother was pregnant with me, the Harrington family was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. But the moment her pregnancy test came back positive, our family’s fortune shifted as if a divine hand had cleared our path. Warehouse stock that had been collecting dust for months sold out to a major European client within a week. A massive joint venture that had been stalled for six months was suddenly signed, with the partner voluntarily cutting their own profit share by two percent. Even our banks reached out, offering long-term loans with unprecedentedly low interest rates. My grandfather declared I was the family’s golden child, our lucky star. On the day I was born, he transferred twenty percent of the company’s shares directly to my name and announced to the entire board: “This child will be the future head of Harrington Enterprises.” Because of this, I grew up shielded from the harsh realities of the world, never having to compromise on anything. Until my twentieth birthday. My brother brought a woman named Vivian home to our estate for the party. While my brother went back inside to grab some dessert for me, she stood behind me near the edge of the outdoor pool. Without warning, she kicked me straight into the freezing water. “You’re just a girl destined to be married off to some other family anyway,” she sneered as I splashed. “What makes you think you have any right to inherit the Harrington empire?” I hauled myself out of the pool, dripping wet, shivering as the cold wind hit my skin. I glared at her, my voice laced with ice. “I don’t care who you are, sweetheart, but you might want to start planning your own funeral.” Vivian blinked, as if she had just heard the most ridiculous joke in the world. She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Who do you think you’re threatening? You’re just a spoiled brat Grandfather ruined. You think you’re invincible?” Before I could tear her apart verbally, my brother, Austin, walked out carrying a plate of mango mousse. The moment he saw me standing by the edge of the pool, dripping wet, his face went completely white. He dropped the plate, the porcelain shattering on the stone tile, and rushed over. “Audrey! What happened? How did you fall in?” He immediately threw his tailored blazer around my shoulders, his hands hovering over my face in panic. “Are you alright? Come on, let’s get you inside to change.” I pushed his hands away, refusing to speak. I kept my eyes locked on Vivian. Vivian’s demeanor changed in a heartbeat. Her eyes welled with tears, her shoulders trembling delicately. “Austin… the moment you walked away, Audrey accused me of trying to steal her spotlight. She threatened to throw me into the pool. I was so terrified that I pushed her back, and she fell… Austin, please don’t be mad at me.” Austin’s brows furrowed as he turned to look at me. “Audrey, is that true?” Looking at my brother, completely blinded by this woman’s pathetic act, I let out a dry, humorless laugh. We had grown up under the same roof for twenty years. He knew my character, my pride. Yet he believed a stranger over me without a second thought. It was truly pathetic. I pushed my wet hair back from my forehead. “No. She kicked me in.” Austin’s face hardened instantly. He turned back to Vivian. “Vivian, is that true? Did you kick Audrey?” Vivian sobbed harder, her body practically collapsing into Austin’s chest. “Austin, please believe me, I would never… I just met her today. We have no history. Why would I do something so horrible to your sister?” She wept so violently she seemed to lose her breath, clinging to his shirt. “If Audrey doesn’t want me here, I’ll just leave. I don’t want to cause trouble…” Austin, completely intoxicated by her tears, didn’t question a single word. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and glared at me. “Audrey, you’ve gone too far! Even if you don’t like Vivian, you shouldn’t lie like this to ruin her reputation!” My heart went entirely cold. I didn’t cry, and I didn’t scream. I just looked at him and smiled. “So, you believe her over me?” Austin’s scowl deepened, his tone dripping with impatience. “Audrey, Vivian is gentle and honest. She wouldn’t lie about this. If you felt threatened by her presence, you could have just told me and I would have taken her home. You didn’t need to resort to such a cheap, vindictive trick.” A dull, suffocating pain bloomed in my chest. This man, the brother I had trusted for two decades, felt like an absolute stranger. I took off his damp blazer and threw it at his feet. “Austin, I am telling you one last time: she kicked me. I am not lying.” Seeing my anger, Vivian let a tiny, triumphant smirk slip across her lips before burying her face back into Austin’s neck. “Austin, look at her… she’s so aggressive. Maybe I really should just go before I ruin your family.” She made a show of trying to pull away, stumbling slightly for dramatic effect. Austin held her fast, his gaze toward me turning into pure resentment. “Audrey, stop making a scene, alright? Today is your birthday. There are hundreds of guests inside. Do you have to make things so ugly? Look, just apologize to Vivian, and we can put this behind us. I won’t even tell Mom, Dad, or Grandfather.” Apologize? I almost laughed out loud. I was the one who had been assaulted, and now I was being ordered to apologize to the culprit? What kind of warped logic was this? I wiped the remaining water from my cheek. “Austin, you can be as blind as you want, but I am not stupid. Apologize to her? In your dreams.” I turned toward the mansion. “But since you’ve chosen to protect her, make sure you’re ready to handle the consequences.” Inside the estate, our butler gasped when he saw me. He immediately ordered the maids to fetch warm towels, a dry dress, and running hot water for a bath. Sitting in front of the vanity, looking at my reflection, my gaze slowly turned to steel. Since the day I was born, everyone had credited our success to my good luck. It had allowed my family to assume that my achievements were just the universe throwing me a bone. Perhaps it was time to show my claws. It was time to prove that my position in this family wasn’t built on luck, but on raw, unyielding capability. Vivian thought I was just a girl to be discarded. She thought the Harrington empire belonged to Austin. I was going to show her exactly what this “discarded girl” was capable of, and whether her precious heir could actually protect her when the storm hit. By the time I changed and walked back downstairs, the grand ballroom was still filled with music, laughter, and expensive champagne. Grandfather was sitting on a velvet sofa, conversing with several prominent board members. Seeing me, he immediately waved me over. “Audrey, sweetheart, come here. Say hello to Mr. Barlow.” I walked over, offering a polite smile. Grandfather took my hand, his brow furrowing as he felt my skin. “Why are your hands so cold? Where have you been?” Before I could answer, Austin and Vivian walked into the ballroom from the terrace. Vivian’s eyes were still red, her hand resting delicately on Austin’s arm, playing the perfect victim. Austin walked up to Grandfather, smoothing over the tension with a casual tone. “Grandfather, there was a minor misunderstanding out by the pool. Vivian accidentally bumped Audrey into the water. Audrey was a bit shaken up, which is why she took so long to come back down.” With one sentence, he dismissed a deliberate assault as an accident, and framed my absence as a childish tantrum. Vivian bowed her head, her voice soft and trembling. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Harrington. It was entirely my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Please don’t blame Austin.” Grandfather’s expression darkened instantly. He turned to me. “Audrey, tell me what happened.” I stood close to Grandfather, resting my hand on his arm, and recounted the entire event calmly. I didn’t exaggerate, and I didn’t leave anything out. I repeated Vivian’s exact words. Grandfather’s face grew black as thunder. He slammed his heavy mahogany cane against the marble floor. The loud crack echoed through the massive ballroom. The music stopped, and the chatter died instantly. Every eye in the room turned toward Austin and Vivian. Austin’s face pale, but he tried to stand his ground. “Grandfather, that’s not true. Vivian would never say those things. Audrey must have misheard.” “Misheard?” I looked at Austin, a cold smile playing on my lips. “There are high-definition security cameras facing the pool. Let’s pull up the footage and see who is telling the truth.” Grandfather slammed his hand on the armrest. “Exactly. Project the security footage onto the main ballroom screens right now.” The butler, who had been waiting nearby, immediately went to execute the order. But less than two minutes later, he returned, his face pale and his voice barely a whisper. “Sir… the security feed for the pool terrace… the lines were cut. They’ve been offline since last week.” The ballroom fell into a suffocating silence. The color returned to Vivian’s face. She looked at me with a sudden surge of arrogance, stepping out from behind Austin. “Audrey… you insisted there was footage. But the cameras have been broken for a week. You must have known that. What are you trying to do? Are you trying to drive me to suicide just to get your way?” Austin seized the opportunity, his brow furrowing with disappointment. “Audrey, Vivian already apologized for the accident. Why must you keep dragging this out? I tried to save your dignity, but you insist on making a scene. I suggest you drop it while you still can.” I looked at Vivian’s smug expression, and the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Out of all the cameras on this massive estate, only the pool terrace was offline. And Vivian just happened to attack me in that exact blind spot. If this wasn’t a coordinated setup, I was a fool. But with hundreds of high-profile guests watching, dragging out a dispute without concrete proof would only make me look hysterical. It would damage my standing as the heir. I suppressed the fury burning in my chest and let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Fine. Since the cameras are convenient offline, it’s my word against yours. Arguing further would only make me look like a bully.” I raised my glass to the room, my voice carrying clearly across the silent hall. “I apologize for the disruption, everyone. It was just a minor misunderstanding. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening.” The guests, relieved by the transition, quickly picked up their conversations, though their curious glances still drifted toward us. Grandfather’s hands were shaking with anger, his knuckles white on his cane. I squeezed his hand gently, whispering, “We will handle this tonight, Grandpa. Let’s keep up appearances for the guests first.” Looking at my calm, calculated expression, Grandfather managed to suppress his rage. He glared at Austin and Vivian, dismissively waving his hand. “I am too old for these childish dramas. I am retiring for the night. But let it be known; if I find out anyone has laid a hand on my granddaughter, they will learn exactly how ruthless I can be.” With that, his assistants escorted him upstairs. Once the crowd dispersed, Vivian walked over to me, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. She reached out to touch my arm. “Audrey, thank you for being so understanding…” I stepped back, avoiding her touch entirely. I walked past her without granting her a single glance. My retreat wasn’t out of fear. It was strategy. I knew that without proof, throwing a tantrum would only play into their hands. It was far better to let them believe they had won, to let them grow careless, while I uncovered who was pulling the strings. For the rest of the night, I played the perfect host, laughing and drinking with our associates. Austin tried to approach me several times, but I avoided him effortlessly. Believing I had accepted defeat, he spent the rest of the night introducing Vivian to our extended family, practically presenting her as the future lady of the estate. Looking at them, I realized my brother was entirely unfit to run this company. A man with his temperament would bankrupt Harrington Enterprises within two years. As soon as the party ended, I called my personal assistant, Alistair, into my study. Alistair had been with me for years; he was brilliant, highly capable, and fiercely loyal. He had managed all my private investments outside the family firm, a secret known only to Grandfather. “Ms. Harrington, you called?” Alistair asked, noting my tense expression. I sat at my desk and laid out everything that had happened by the pool. “I need you to investigate two things immediately. First, Vivian. I want her entire background; her family, her education, how she met Austin, and every detail of her schedule. Leave nothing out. Second, find out who was responsible for the estate’s security maintenance this past week. Find out who handled the pool terrace lines, and who authorized leaving them offline.” Alistair took swift notes. “Should we keep this from your brother?” “Absolutely,” I replied, taking a slow sip of water. “Keep it from my parents as well. This investigation must be entirely silent.” “Understood. I’ll have the initial reports by tomorrow morning.” “One more thing,” I added, recalling Vivian’s arrogance. “Check if Austin has been in contact with any outside investment firms lately, particularly those hostile to Harrington Enterprises. And run a check on his personal accounts for any massive, unusual transactions.” I wanted to believe in family. But his behavior tonight went far beyond being blinded by infatuation. If he was merely stupidly in love, I could handle him. But if he was actively plotting to destroy our family legacy… Well, he had just earned a permanent spot on my blacklist.

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I had managed to score tickets to the World Cup, which was my fiancé’s absolute favorite sporting event. I rushed to his office, eager to surprise him, but as I approached his door, I overheard his close friend trying to reason with him. “Elena cleared her entire schedule to watch the games with you. She went through absolute hell to get those tickets. It really isn’t right for you to take Giselle instead.” Stefan took a slow drag from his cigarette, his tone entirely indifferent as he replied, “Watching the game with Elena is boring. I’m used to having Giselle with me for every World Cup.” Boring. Used to it. Those words felt like a dozen sharp slaps across my face, mocking the twelve years I had spent by his side. In our twelve years together, there had been three World Cups. The first two times, he had gone with Giselle. I had cried, I had fought, and each time he had held me close, whispering, “Giselle and I grew up together, Elly. It’s just a habit. She was there before you came along. Please, honey, next time I promise it will be just the two of us.” I believed him. I waited four long years. Yet, when the time came, his habits still had no room for me. I stared down at the pristine tickets in my hand, a quiet laugh escaping my lips. Then, I tore them down the middle and tossed them into the trash can. Twelve years of running alongside him, only to realize I was nothing but a spectator. It really was boring. 1 When Stefan came home that evening, he was carrying Giselle’s fluffy white Persian cat, Honey. “Elly, do you mind watching Honey for a few weeks?” He only looked up after he finished speaking, his expression hardening when he saw the open suitcase on the floor. “Stop packing,” he said, his voice flat. “For Giselle’s birthday last month, her only wish was for us to watch this World Cup together. I already promised her.” His tone was gentle, but there was no room for discussion. It was a simple notification of a decision already made. I didn’t answer, quietly tucking my birth certificate and social security card into the secure lining of my suitcase. Our parents had sent them from my hometown two weeks ago, intended for our marriage registration next month. Now, I realized a clean break was far better than a messy divorce. Without looking at him, I said quietly, “You promised me four years ago that you would take me this time.” “You can’t compare the two,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Giselle is a guest. When you make a promise to an outsider, you have to keep it.” I stopped folding my clothes and looked up at him. “Out of the three of us, I am the outsider.” Stefan’s jaw tightened. “Are you being petty and jealous again? Please, not this. Giselle and I grew up together. I’ve told you a thousand times that our friendship is completely innocent. We’re getting married next month. Do you really have zero trust in me? You are exhausting me, Elena.” He rubbed his temples, adopting the same weary expression he always wore whenever Giselle’s name came up. I kept my voice calm and even. “I am exhausted too. If you are used to having her by your side, then go with her. I won’t stop you.” Stefan blinked, momentarily taken aback by my lack of an argument. Assuming I had surrendered just like every other time, he let out a long sigh of relief. “Don’t overthink things. I’ll bring you back a nice souvenir.” The white cat jumped out of his arms, wandering over to sniff at my suitcase. “Giselle’s family is on vacation, and my parents can’t stand cat hair,” Stefan explained. “She couldn’t find anyone else to watch Honey on such short notice. It’s only for a little while.” She takes my fiancé, and I watch her cat. It was almost comical. Suddenly, Stefan’s phone rang. From the sudden softness in his eyes, I knew it was Giselle. He turned and headed toward the study, pausing at the threshold to call back to me. 2 “The cat has been crying. She must be hungry. Giselle mentioned she likes steamed salmon. Could you prepare some for her?” After twelve years, his tone when speaking to me had become as casual as if he were instructing a maid. Before I could even open my mouth to respond, he stepped into the study and shut the door behind him. I went back to packing my things. My company had granted me a three-day transition period to hand over my projects. In three days, I would be leaving this city, and the man I had loved for over a decade, far behind. Passing by the study, I heard Stefan’s voice coming through the thin door. He was on a video call, and Giselle’s bright laughter echoed in the quiet hallway. “Elena has been with me for twelve years,” Stefan was saying, a trace of smug confidence in his voice. “She’s always been submissive. She won’t make a scene. Just focus on enjoying the trip with me.” I stood frozen in the hallway, my heart turning completely cold. From the age of eighteen to thirty, my entire world had revolved around him. I had always been the understanding, sensible girlfriend his friends praised. Even when we fought over Giselle, I kept our arguments private, preserving his dignity in front of others. But my silence had only become his license to walk all over me. I let out a quiet breath. I would never be submissive again, Stefan. While gathering my belongings, I noticed that one of my handmade herbal sleep pillows was missing. My job carried an immense amount of pressure, and my sleep quality had always been poor. To help me sleep, my grandmother had traveled to a distant town to find an old herbalist who specialized in hand-stuffed sleep pillows, bringing back two of them for me. On her journey back, she was tragically killed in a highway accident. Since that day, those pillows had become my most cherished keepsakes of her. Stefan walked out of the study, grabbing his keys to head out. I called out to him. “Have you seen my other sleep pillow?” He paused, thinking for a second. “Check the guest room where Giselle stays. If it isn’t there, she must have taken it to her apartment.” We had lived in this two-bedroom apartment for seven years. Initially, we rented it, but we eventually bought it from the landlord. I had always thought a one-bedroom place would be perfect for us, but he had insisted on a two-bedroom unit, claiming we needed space for occasional guests. Yet, in all these years, he had never allowed any of his friends to stay over, even when they were too drunk to drive. He always insisted on booking them a hotel room. The only person who had ever stayed in that guest room was Giselle. Every time she drank too much, he would bring her back here. When I suggested booking her a room or taking her home, he always argued that it wasn’t safe for a single woman to stay in a hotel alone. He knew how much it hurt me, but he continued to let her sleep in our home, often making the decision without consulting me first. Later, because of my protests, he even installed security cameras in the common areas, claiming the footage would prove their absolute innocence. Over the years, that guest room had slowly filled with her personal belongings, lipsticks, socks, jewelry, and even delicate undergarments. In the past, I would have thrown a furious tantrum over these things. Today, I simply walked into the guest room, saw that the pillow wasn’t there, and quietly walked out. Without a word, I took my car keys and drove straight to Giselle’s apartment. Giselle opened her door, her eyes widening in mock surprise when she saw me. “Oh, Elena! What a surprise. This is the very first time you’ve ever visited my place.” She smiled, stepping back to let me in. “I’m just here to retrieve my pillow,” I said, my voice empty of emotion. She offered a sweet smile, turning toward the kitchen to fetch some water. But as she turned, I saw her thumbs flying across her phone screen. No doubt she was messaging Stefan to complain about my sudden arrival. “Don’t worry about the water,” I called out. “I’m leaving as soon as I get my things.” She walked back into the living room, tapping her chin as if trying to recall where she had put it. 3 “Why don’t you check the guest bedroom on the right?” she suggested, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “That’s where Stefan slept the other night.” My chest tightened. I had never known that Stefan stayed overnight at her place. As I walked past her balcony, my eyes caught a line of laundry drying in the afternoon sun. Hanging right beside her delicate dresses were Stefan’s shirts and underwear, placed so closely together that they touched. Giselle followed my gaze, offering a casual, breezy explanation. “Oh, Stefan got absolutely trashed the other night. He ended up ruining his clothes, so I had to wash them for him.” It was a blatant provocation. In the past, she had always played the innocent childhood friend, swearing up and down that they were nothing more than siblings. But over the last two years, she had dropped the act entirely, adopting a smug, untouchable attitude. Now, she was openly challenging me, waiting for me to lose my mind so she could run to Stefan for comfort. I simply looked away and said, “I see.” On her kitchen counter sat a premium coffee blend that Stefan drank religiously. It was just like our own kitchen, which was always stocked with Giselle’s preferred health supplements. My calmness seemed to catch her off guard. A shadow of disappointment crossed her face when I didn’t start screaming. I followed her into the second bedroom. The moment I stepped inside, my eyes were drawn to the headboard wall. It was covered in a massive, heart-shaped collage of photographs featuring her and Stefan. There were candid snapshots from their childhood, graduation pictures, and professional studio portraits. In the very center was a large portrait of Giselle in a flowing white gown and veil, holding hands with Stefan in a tailored suit as they ran through a meadow. It wasn’t a wedding portrait, but it was designed to look exactly like one. In every single picture, Stefan’s smile was radiant and completely unforced. “Giselle and I have so many beautiful memories together,” she murmured, watching me closely. “They certainly are beautiful,” I replied quietly, my heart completely numb. She smirked. “You should join us sometime, Elena. Though, I suppose three can get a bit crowded.” “A game meant for two is never fun with a third,” I replied, turning my gaze back to her. “Where is the pillow?” Sensing that her psychological games weren’t working, Giselle’s smile turned rigid. She opened her wardrobe, casually moving aside several of Stefan’s shirts. “Giselle is so careless. I really need to have a talk with him about leaving his things everywhere.” “You don’t need to explain anything to me. I’m only here for the pillow.” She reached for the bed, pulling back the heavy comforter to reveal a set of matching pink silk pillowcases. Resting right beside them was a partially used box of thin condoms. 4 Giselle stood by the bed, her eyes shining with anticipation as she waited for my tears, my rage, or my breakdown. I remained completely indifferent. “I have places to be. Please hurry up.” “Let’s check the walk-in closet then,” she said, her tone growing strained as she led me to the adjacent room. On the floor of the closet sat an open suitcase. Packets of summer clothes were neatly organized inside, and resting right on top was a fresh, unopened box of the exact same brand of condoms. Giselle smoothed down her dress, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. “I’m packing for our trip tomorrow. The World Cup only happens once every four years, you know. Some people spend their entire lives trying to squeeze into a world where they don’t belong, forgetting that the seating arrangements are decided from the very beginning.” My patience finally ran out. I looked her dead in the eye, my voice cold and sharp. “I am only here to get my pillow. As for Stefan, you can keep him. I am throwing him away.” She gasped, her face instantly shifting into a mask of wounded innocence. “Elena, what are you saying? Please don’t misunderstand me. I was only talking about the soccer tournament.” “I asked you where my pillow is.” She hesitated, her eyes darting around before she muttered, “I remember now. Follow me.” She led me to a third, smaller room that had been converted into a playroom for her cat. The moment I stepped inside, my eyes fell upon my grandmother’s hand-stitched, light green herbal pillow. It was sitting directly inside the cat’s litter box, soaked through with urine and smelling foul. Giselle let out a soft sigh, her voice half-innocent and half-mocking. “Oh dear, my cat is so mischievous. It’s just a pillow, Elena. I’ll buy you a much better one to make up for it. Stefan really spoils that cat too much.” I spun around, pouring every ounce of my pain and betrayal into my right hand, and slapped her hard across the face. “You did that on purpose,” I spat. “Elena!” A furious roar echoed from the doorway. Stefan rushed into the room, shoving me aside to pull Giselle into his arms. He cradled her face, staring with immense worry at the red mark blooming on her cheek. Giselle began to weep, her tears flowing perfectly as she whimpered, “Stefan, please don’t yell at her. It was my fault.” Stefan glared at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “It is just a damn pillow! Have you completely lost your mind?” My eyes burned, but I refused to let a single tear fall. I raised my hand once more and struck Stefan across the face with all my remaining strength. “Yes,” I choked out, my voice trembling with rage. “I have.” Stefan’s face was thrown to the side, a bright red handprint rising on his cheek. He stared at me in absolute shock. “Are you insane?” “I was insane to waste twelve years of my life loving a man like you!” I turned and walked out of the apartment. Behind me, his angry voice echoed down the corridor. “Don’t you dare walk away! Stop throwing these childish tantrums!”

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1 I’ve always been obsessed with hunting for bargains on secondhand apps. It wasn’t a hobby; it was a survival tactic to keep our heads above water. Marcus would hold me close, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m useless. I hate seeing you live like this.” I would brush it off with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Secondhand stuff works just as well. Why pay retail when you can get the exact same thing for a fraction of the price?” One evening, I was scrolling through a thrift app, looking for a Lego set my six-year-old son, Toby, had been begging for. That’s when I stumbled across a seller who seemed too good to be true. Her profile was filled with high-end baby gear, designer clothes, and toys, all listed at throwaway prices. I messaged her immediately about the Lego set. She was incredibly sweet. When she found out I was a struggling mom, she even threw in a brand-new skateboard for free. Over the next few weeks, I bought several more things from her. Curiosity got the better of me, and I asked why she sold such valuable items for next to nothing. She laughed and said she didn’t need the money. Her husband absolutely adored her, showering her and their son with new gifts almost every day. She simply had no room to store it all, so she cleared it out online. We eventually added each other on Instagram. Her feed was a constant stream of domestic bliss, romantic gestures, and family outings. I watched from the sidelines, occasionally leaving a supportive comment, genuinely happy for her. Then came the photo that shattered my world. It was a shot from a family vacation. A young boy was piggybacking on a man’s back, turning toward the camera to flash a bright grin. My breath caught. The boy’s face. The man’s broad shoulders. I froze. My hands trembled so violently I almost dropped the phone. I zoomed in, closer and closer. The boy’s face was a miniature, carbon copy of my husband’s. And the man’s back… I had stared at those shoulders every night for eight years. I knew every curve, every line. I tried to scream at myself that it was just a bizarre coincidence, but the wall of denial crumbled instantly. I exited the app, my chest aching. I took a slow, shuddering breath, forcing down the urge to scream at Marcus. Instead, I went back to the thrift app and dug deeper. Using her seller handle, I tracked down her public Instagram account. Her name was Isla. I stared at her profile picture: two hands with fingers tightly locked together. Her bio read: M_and_I_Forever. Marcus and Isla. M and I. Mine. A cold, hollow laugh escaped my throat. There were over two thousand posts, a meticulous, sun-drenched archive of her perfect life with Marcus. Unlike her private accounts where he was kept in the shadows, here his face was proudly on display. I scrolled down, my heart sinking deeper into a cold, dark void with every swipe. Isla hadn’t been bragging; Marcus really did worship her. He bought her bespoke jewelry, took her on spontaneous trips to Paris and Rome, and spared no expense. I stared at Isla in her designer dresses, her flawless blowout, and her glittering diamonds. Then I looked down at my own faded, thrice-patched cotton dress. A suffocating lump rose in my throat. Marcus didn’t just have another family. He was worth millions. Yet, he played the part of a struggling blue-collar worker in front of me, claiming he made barely three thousand dollars a month at a dead-end desk job. I had starved my own needs, scrimped, and saved out of love for him, while he threw gold at her feet. What a pathetic joke. “Mom, look at the Lego castle I built!” Toby ran in, tugging my sleeve to show off his creation. Looking at his bright, innocent eyes, I had to swallow the bitter tears threatening to spill. My sweet boy had no idea that the secondhand toy he treated like gold was just a piece of trash Marcus had bought for another child, only discarded when the other boy grew bored of it. Isla’s son, Ollie, was only six months younger than Toby, but he looked so much healthier, taller, and stronger. He was a child raised on organic food, premium care, and effortless luxury. When Toby was a baby, my milk had dried up from stress. We couldn’t afford the organic formula, so I bought the cheapest generic brand on the shelf. As he grew, I tried to make sure he got enough protein, but with our tight budget, I had to ration our meals. Toby had always been smaller than his classmates. Marcus knew all of this. He had watched our son struggle and chose to do nothing. They say love is reflected in where a person spends their money. Marcus’s love was never with us. So, we wouldn’t give him ours anymore. I knelt down, brushing Toby’s hair out of his eyes. “Hey bud, how about we go to the diner for burgers and milkshakes? And then, we’re going to the store to buy you a brand-new Lego set.” Toby gasped, his face lighting up. “Really, Mom? I literally dreamed about chocolate milkshakes last night!” My heart shattered. “But Mom…” Toby looked back at the secondhand Lego on the table, his smile faltering. “If we spend all that money, will we have enough for the rent? We don’t need a new toy. This one is still really fun.” Seeing a six-year-old child worry about rent, seeing him learn to settle for crumbs, made me physically sick. “Toby, Mom has plenty of money. Don’t worry about a thing. Just be happy, okay?” I held him so tight I thought he might pop. When we got back, Marcus was already home. He stared at the brand-new Lego box and the bag of fresh groceries, a flash of cold annoyance crossing his face. “I just gave you the household budget for the month, Naomi. Why are you suddenly throwing money away like this? Since when did you become so irresponsible?” I kept my voice calm. “Toby, go play in your room for a bit, sweetie.” Toby looked at his father’s tense face, then ran into his room without a word. I turned to Marcus. “Irresponsible? Our son is six years old, and this is the first time in his life he’s ever owned a toy that didn’t belong to someone else first. You think that’s irresponsible?” Marcus flinched, pulling at his collar. “Naomi, that’s not what I meant. We just don’t have the budget for luxury items…” “Stop it, Marcus. Aren’t you tired of playing this stupid game?” I interrupted, my voice sharp. He blinked, his brow furrowing. “Naomi, what are you talking about? I don’t understand.” I didn’t want to waste another breath. I unlocked my phone, opened Isla’s Instagram page, and shoved it right in front of his face. “Eight years, Marcus. I had no idea I was married to such a calculating liar.” Marcus went completely pale. “No, Naomi, I can explain… I… I was going to tell you.” “Explain? Explain how you built a second family during our second year of marriage? Explain how you have millions in the bank while your wife and son live like beggars? Or explain how Isla and her son are the ones you actually care about?” “Naomi, don’t be so dramatic,” Marcus said, tearing off his tie in frustration. “Dramatic?” I laughed, the sound hollow and sharp. “While you were throwing thousands at Isla, I was fighting for pennies on thrift apps. While you took them around the world, I was losing sleep over the electric bill.” I pointed at the dusty box of secondhand Legos. “Do you know what that is? That’s the garbage Isla’s son threw away. Toby treated it like a treasure. Is Toby not your son? How could you do this to him?” A flicker of genuine guilt crossed Marcus’s eyes. He reached out to grab my hand, but I stepped back, leaving him clutching empty air. “Naomi, do you have to be so stubborn?” he grumbled, his guilt morphing into irritation. When I didn’t answer, his voice softened. “Look, whatever Isla and Ollie have, I promise you and Toby will have it too. I swear.” “Really? Transfer fifty thousand dollars to my account right now, then.” I held up my banking app. “You… money, money, money. Is that all you care about?” Marcus snapped, turning on his heel and storming out of the apartment. I watched him leave. Marcus, you don’t deserve a single second of the eight years I gave you. My phone buzzed. Isla had updated her Instagram. It was a clear photo of Marcus’s face. The caption read: Finally convinced my husband to show his handsome face. He was getting so tired of hiding. She knew exactly who I was. The thrift app, the friendly chats, the photo… it was all a game to her. The sheer disgust of being toyed with boiled over. I commented directly under her post: You really deserve an Oscar for this performance. Within seconds, my phone rang. It was Marcus. “Naomi, what the hell are you doing?” “She’s throwing her affair in my face, and you’re asking me what I’m doing?” “Isla isn’t like that. Just apologize to her, and we can move past this,” Marcus said, his voice cold and demanding. “Are you out of your mind, Marcus?” I spat. “Fine. Then you can figure out Toby’s school enrollment on your own,” he said impatiently. My heart stopped. Toby was supposed to start elementary school in the fall, and I had been struggling to secure a spot in a decent district. I never thought Marcus would weaponize our son’s education to protect his mistress. I couldn’t risk Toby’s future. “Fine. I’ll apologize.” That afternoon, I took Toby with me to Isla’s address. Even though I thought I was prepared, standing in the foyer of her massive suburban mansion made my chest tighten. He had built a paradise for them. Everything I had only ever seen in luxury magazines was scattered carelessly around the house. “Don’t just stand there. Come in,” Marcus said, his arm wrapped tightly around Isla’s waist as they walked down the grand staircase. “Are you ready to apologize?” “Marc, honey, let it go. This must be so hard for Naomi,” Isla murmured, her voice dripping with sweet poison. I took a step forward and bowed my head slightly. “I was jealous of you, Isla. I let my envy get the better of me. I am truly sorry.” Marcus looked surprised, a complex emotion flitting through his eyes. Before he could speak, Toby suddenly charged forward like a little rocket, shielding me. “Don’t you dare bully my mom!” he screamed at them. Before I could grab him, Ollie lunged and shoved Toby hard. Toby stumbled backward, losing his footing, and crashed into a massive ceramic vase. The vase toppled, shattering against the hardwood floor with a deafening crash. Sharp ceramic shards exploded everywhere. “Toby!” I screamed, my heart leaping into my throat. When I reached him, my breath hitched. Blood was pouring from deep cuts on his arms and legs, staining the white ceramic pieces crimson. Ollie stood nearby, clapping his hands with a nasty grin. “Serves you right! That’s what you get for yelling at my parents!” My mind went completely blank. All I knew was that I had to save my baby. I shoved Ollie aside and knelt beside Toby, tears streaming down my face as I cradled his shaking body. I looked up at Marcus and screamed, “Get the car! We need to go to the hospital right now!” Marcus panicked, grabbing his car keys and stepping toward us. But suddenly, Ollie let out a piercing shriek. “Daddy, it hurts! It hurts so bad!” Marcus froze, his eyes darting to Ollie. Isla burst into tears, wrapping her arms around her son. “Ollie, sweetie, did that woman hurt you?” Ollie nodded through big, theatrical tears. Isla looked at me, her eyes red and accusing. “Naomi, how could you lay your hands on a child?” I looked at Marcus’s darkening expression and felt my heart sink. “I didn’t hurt him! I just moved him out of the way! I barely touched him!” “He’s just a little boy, Naomi. Children don’t lie,” Isla sobbed, looking up at Marcus with trembling lips. “Marc, please, we need to get Ollie checked out. My chest hurts just looking at him.” Marcus turned around, scooped Ollie into his arms, and walked toward the front door with Isla at his side. “Marcus!” I cried out, desperate. “Toby is bleeding! He needs a hospital!” Marcus glanced back, a brief hesitation in his eyes, before he hardened. “It’s just a few scratches. He’ll be fine.” With that, he walked out. Watching his retreating back, something inside me died permanently. I picked up my bleeding son and stumbled out of the mansion. We hadn’t even reached the main road when the skies opened up, pouring freezing rain over us. Despair, heavy and suffocating, threatened to pull me under. For a split second, the thought of just giving up forever crossed my mind. But Toby seemed to sense my breakdown. “Mom, it doesn’t hurt. Don’t cry,” he whispered, reaching up with a trembling hand to wipe the rain and tears from my cheek. The gesture snapped me back to reality. I had to live. For my son, I had to be strong. “I’m here, baby. Mom’s got you.” Finally, a kind stranger driving by pulled over and rushed us to the emergency room. The doctor said the cuts were deep. Toby had to get several stitches in his arm and leg. He didn’t cry once. Instead, he reached up with his small, uninjured hand to cover my eyes. “Don’t look, Mom. I’m a big boy.” I couldn’t even speak. I could only nod, my tears soaking his hand. Over the next few days, I was consumed with taking care of Toby, changing his bandages, and desperately looking for school options. I had no time for anything else. Until my neighbor gently knocked on my door and told me to check my phone. I had gone viral. Isla had uploaded a heavily edited video of the incident at the villa. It showed me apologizing and then “shoving” Ollie, completely cutting out the part where Ollie pushed Toby into the vase. The internet was ruthless. Thousands of comments called me a bitter, unstable ex-wife trying to claw her way into a rich family, attacking an innocent child out of pure jealousy. Toby’s school admission was instantly rejected. The admissions officer told me flatly, “We cannot accept your son. The negative publicity is too much of a risk, and other parents would complain.” I didn’t go looking for Isla, but she came to me. We met at a quiet corner café. She sipped her cappuccino, looking down her nose at me. “How does it feel to have nowhere left to turn, Naomi?” “What do you want?” I asked, staring her down. “My son is starting school soon, but he doesn’t have a legitimate name,” she said, slowly stirring her cup. “You want my husband’s name. You want to be the new Mrs. Sinclair.” “You’re smarter than I thought,” Isla smirked. “I’ll sign the divorce papers. But I want half of everything Marcus owns.” “Don’t be greedy, Isla. If I were greedy, I would take him for every penny he has. He is the one who strayed.” “Don’t push your luck, Naomi. We’ll see who wins this,” she hissed, grabbing her designer bag and slamming her chair back as she left. I finished my coffee slowly, my heart hardening into steel. For my son, I would not sit back and take this. That evening, a massive expose hit the internet. Marcus’s phone began to vibrate violently. He looked at the screen with a smug grin, thinking I had finally cracked under the pressure and was calling to beg for a truce. But as he opened the trending local news app, his face drained of all color, and his hands began to shake.

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On the day of our engagement party, my fiancé’s beloved first love slit her wrists. He told me a life was on the line and that I needed to grow up and understand. Oh, I was very understanding. The guests had already arrived, and I wasn’t about to let a perfectly good venue go to waste. So, I swapped the groom right then and there. Why stop at an engagement? Let’s just go all the way. 1 Draped in an exquisite lace gown, I sat in the bridal suite, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Instead of the coordinator coming to lead me down the aisle, the door flew open to reveal my best friend, Tess, her face pale with fury. “What’s wrong?” My chest tightened as a cold wave of dread washed over me. Tess stared at me, silent for a long moment, before her teeth clenched. “I told you to dump George months ago. You wouldn’t listen. Now, right before the biggest moment of your life, he’s about to run off to his precious little ex.” The room went dead silent for a count of five. “Ann?” I asked. “Who else?” Tess let out a harsh, bitter laugh, her eyes darting to the door where my fiancé, George, had just appeared. “Look at the great romantic. His fiancée is waiting in her gown, but his heart takes flight the second his ex sheds a few tears over the phone.” George flinched at the sarcasm, his expression darkening. “Ann slit her wrists,” he said, his voice tense. “The situation is critical. I need to be there.” “Be there? For what?” Tess mocked, stepping in front of me. “You aren’t her family, and you aren’t her boyfriend. Why on earth is it your job to save her?” She squeezed my hand gently, turning her glare back to him. “You’re still obsessed with her. Trying to get engaged to one woman while rushing off to hold the hand of another. Quite the gentleman, aren’t you, Mr. Vance?” George ignored her, focusing his pleading eyes entirely on me. “Audie, I know today is our day. If it weren’t an emergency, I swear I wouldn’t leave. But a human life is at stake. I need you to be reasonable.” I looked at the man I had been dating for the last six months. Slowly, the tension left my shoulders, and a quiet smile touched my lips. “Alright. I’m reasonable. Go ahead.” “Audrey!” Tess gasped, spinning around to look at me in absolute disbelief. “You’re letting your groom walk out on your own engagement to comfort another woman? Do you want to be the laughingstock of the city for the rest of your life?” I stood up, wrapping my arm around Tess’s shoulders and gently pinching her cheek to keep her from saying another word. “Go on, George,” I said, my voice sweet and calm. “Hurry up. If you’re too late, her scratches might actually heal on their own.” George hesitated, sensing something off in my tone, but his desperation won. Without another word, he turned and ran down the corridor. Tess broke free from my grip, her eyes wide with rage. Just as she opened her mouth to scream at me, I smiled. “The party is still happening today.” “With what groom?” Tess threw her hands in the air. “The man just ran out. Who are you going to stand there with? A ghost?” I raised a finger, shaking it gently with a mysterious grin. “Who said the groom has to be George?” Leaving Tess completely bewildered, I smoothed down my dress, stepped into my heels, and walked toward the grand double doors of the ballroom. If the groom wanted to bail, I didn’t mind finding a better one. 2 I peeked through the crack of the double doors, scanning the ballroom. The ceremony was supposed to start in ten minutes, and the guests were already seated. I looked from left to right, front to back, but there wasn’t a single eligible bachelor in sight. Even my best guy friend wasn’t picking up his phone. Panic started to creep in. I needed to salvage my dignity, and I needed to do it fast. Just as I was about to lose hope, I saw my father walking toward the VIP section, laughing heartily as he guided a tall, striking man. “Gideon, my friend! You honor me by coming straight from the airport…” My father was beaming, introducing the handsome man to everyone nearby. Gideon Pierce. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his sharp features softened by a subtle, enigmatic smile. In that instant, my problem solved itself. He was someone we knew, someone respectable, and undeniably gorgeous. Who could be more perfect than my father’s close friend? I rushed back to my dressing table, grabbed my phone, and frantically scrolled through my contacts. When I finally found Gideon’s name, I hesitated. It was his private number, and the last time I had called it was when I was studying abroad. Gideon and my father were old chess rivals. Years ago, they had fought their way to the finals of a major amateur tournament. My father had lost, but the defeat had sparked a deep friendship. At the time, Gideon was only nineteen, becoming a close confidant to my forty-three-year-old father. Even though Gideon was only eight years older than me, my father had always insisted I call him “Uncle Gideon.” At thirty-four, Gideon had everything: wealth, looks, a brilliant career, and status. The only thing he lacked was a wife. Sometimes, my father would browse through social media, hoping to find a suitable match for his dear younger friend. As it turned out, fate was finally playing along. I dialed the number, keeping my eyes glued to the crack in the door. Across the room, Gideon felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at the screen. Please tell me he didn’t delete my number, I prayed. To my relief, he swiped to answer. “Hello?” “Uncle Gideon,” I whispered urgently. “Can you come to the bridal suite in the back? Right now?” “Is there an emergency?” he asked, his deep voice instantly grounded and calm. “Yes. A very big one.” “I’ll be right there.” He hung up. I watched through the gap as Gideon stood, politely excused himself without alerting my father, and walked toward the hallway. Before he could even knock, I pulled the door open and yanked him inside. I had already sent Tess out. If I was going to be rejected, I wanted to keep whatever dignity I had left. “Uncle Gideon, I need a massive favor.” “Tell me.” I pointed to George’s spare tuxedo hanging on the rack, using the gentlest, most persuasive tone I could muster. “If you aren’t in a rush to leave today, would you mind getting engaged to me?” His brow arched, his sharp mind putting the pieces together instantly. “Did he run, or did you change your mind?” Having thirty-four years of life experience meant he wasn’t easily fooled. Looking at him, I was suddenly reminded of my teenage years. I had tried to play a prank on him with some friends, only for him to completely turn the tables on us. When my friends blamed me and walked away, I had angrily confronted him. He had simply looked at me and said, “A partnership requires trust, Audrey. If suspicion outweighs belief, the bond crumbles.” So, I decided to be completely honest. I told him everything about George and Ann. “The truth is,” I concluded, “he ran, and I don’t regret letting him go for a second.” “Are you certain?” I nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. George can be someone else’s headache. I will never look back.” “Even if I have to stay single for the rest of my life,” I muttered, “I wouldn’t marry him.” A warm, gentle palm pressed lightly against my lips, silencing me. Gideon smiled down at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Alright. I accept.” He glanced at George’s spare tuxedo, dismissing it with a critical eye. “The fabric is cheap, the cut is outdated, and the sleeves are far too short. I can’t wear this.” I took a proper look at Gideon. He was indeed much taller and broader than George. Thanks to Ann’s drama, my new groom was not only more mature, but he was also a much better fit in every possible way. Gideon pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant. “Tommy, fetch the spare suit from my car. Bring it to the groom’s changing room immediately.” Once the arrangements were made, he patted my shoulder gently. “See you at the altar, my future fiancée.” 3 Gideon’s assistant, Tommy, was incredibly efficient. Not only did he accept his boss’s sudden engagement without batting an eye, but he also stepped in as the master of ceremonies. With a professional coordinator taking the reins, the engagement party proceeded without a hitch. Since Tess had already warned my parents, they managed to look composed when they joined us on stage. As for George’s family, they had quietly slipped out of the venue earlier. I later found out that the moment George received Ann’s call, he had already instructed his parents to leave. He knew he was in the wrong and wanted to avoid a scene, choosing the most cowardly exit possible. The moment the microphones were turned off, my father rushed over to us. “Gideon, my friend, what is the meaning of this?” My mother quickly pinched his arm, whispering, “Stop calling him your friend, dear. The family hierarchy is completely ruined now.” “But this is so sudden,” my father stammered. Faced with my father’s confusion, Gideon wrapped a protective arm around my shoulder and began weaving a beautiful, entirely fabricated story. He spoke of a deep, secret love we had shared for years, a silent devotion we had kept hidden until the very last moment when we realized we couldn’t live without each other. He spoke with such sincerity that I almost believed him myself. As a prominent figure in the city’s business community, handling a minor crisis like this was child’s play for him. Soon, he had the entire room charmed. The few skeptical guests were quickly placated by my father’s finest wine. The party ended in absolute success. Back in the dressing room, Tess finally let out a massive sigh of relief. “George is a bastard, but he did one good thing today by running away,” she said, helping me unzip my dress. “You traded a piece of gravel for a mountain of gold.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatics.

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My son, who had just started elementary school, was kidnapped by my wife’s sworn enemy. The kidnapper demanded that my wife, the police captain, show up immediately to negotiate. Upon hearing the news, she rushed out of the station. But midway, she received a mysterious phone call, and then she vanished. I was forced to watch as my son’s tiny body collapsed into a pool of blood, his ears and fingers ruthlessly severed. “Daddy, it hurts so much. Can you tell Mommy to save me, please?” My hands shook violently as I called my wife ninety-nine times, my voice begging, stripped of all dignity. “Diana, please, I’m begging you, save our son…” When she finally picked up on the hundredth attempt, her voice was dripping with impatience. “Have you had enough of this drama, Johnny? Are you really using our son to beg for attention now? Tristan is home alone tonight and he feels unsafe. It is my duty to look after my junior academy classmate. Grow up, Johnny. Let it go. I’ll come home tomorrow to celebrate Finn’s birthday.” A second later, a notification popped up on my phone. It was Tristan’s social media status. My eyes burned as I stared at the photo of them leaning intimately against each other. The caption read: [You are not just a hero to the public; you are my hero, too.] She had no idea she would never celebrate her son’s birthday again. The only thing waiting for her was his funeral. 1 I don’t remember how I made it to the morgue. Staring down at Finn’s cold, bruised body, at the empty space where his ears and tiny fingers should have been, my chest cleaved wide open. It felt as though a dry ball of cotton had been shoved down my throat. My stomach cramped so violently that my entire body began to shake. I couldn’t accept it. Just that morning, he had been holding my hand, whispering his birthday wishes. Now, he was nothing but a cold, grey piece of clay. The quiet of the morgue was shattered by my choked, dry heaving as I reached out to touch his purple cheek. “Finn, baby, please open your eyes for Daddy. Daddy is right here.” The only response was the detective’s polite, rehearsed words of condolence. They told me the kidnapper was an old convict Diana had wrongfully arrested years ago. A decade of wrongful imprisonment had shattered his mind. After torturing and killing Finn, he had turned the gun on himself. But everyone knew the truth: the kidnapper only wanted an apology from Diana. If she had only shown up when she said she would, Finn would still be breathing. The funeral ended two days later. I held the small, cold urn in my arms. No matter how tightly I squeezed it against my chest, the ceramic wouldn’t warm up. It only pressed harder against my aching ribs. When I finally dragged myself back to the empty house, I walked straight to his bedroom. Seeing the crayon drawing of the three of us taped to the wall, my bloodshot eyes overflowed again. Exhausted, I collapsed onto his small bed, curling my trembling body into a ball, desperately inhaling the faint, lingering scent of my little boy. Then, my phone buzzed, the screen lighting up again and again. Diana’s face was trending on social media. A photo of her and Tristan had been circulating under the headline: The City’s Bravest Cop and Her Most Devoted Witness. In the comment section, strangers were swooning. [They look so good together! I declare them husband and wife!] [Please tell me they’re dating. Look at the chemistry!] [Look at how she leans her shoulder into his. They are definitely more than friends!] As the gossip spread, Diana had finally stepped in to post a public comment. [We are just friends. He is a good man, please respect his privacy.] That vague, teasing reply felt like a heavy weight pressing into my lungs. Years ago, when I was being harassed online by angry citizens because of one of her high-profile cases, she had told me, “Even if I speak up for you, who would believe me? Just ignore them.” So, she did know how to protect someone. She just reserved that protection for her handsome, fragile junior. It made sense. Compared to the young, attentive Tristan, I was just the boring husband she had been tied to for seven long years. I had been a fool, clinging to the vows we made in our youth. Coughing through my tears, I unlocked my phone and sent her a text. [Diana, let’s get a divorce.] After contacting a lawyer to draft the papers, my frayed nerves finally snapped, and a heavy, dark exhaustion dragged me down into sleep. I dreamed of the day we got married. She had worn a white gown, her eyes blazing with a fierce, burning adoration. “Johnny, in academy, they always taught us that we have to protect the public before we can protect our families. But I’ve always believed that without our tiny family, the world doesn’t matter. Will you let me protect you for the rest of our lives?” The dream shifted. Finn’s small hand was holding mine, his other hand clutching Diana’s. “Daddy, Mommy, Finn, together forever.” I squeezed his tiny hand, terrified he would vanish. Suddenly, his fingers began to slip away, turning into warm, dripping blood. “Daddy, save me!” “Finn!” I jolted awake, cold sweat pouring down my back. Outside the bedroom door, a soft, whining male voice drifted in. “Diana, if Johnny finds out I’m staying here, he’s going to be so angry with me. You have to promise you’ll protect me.” My blood ran cold. Then came Diana’s soft chuckle. “Don’t worry, silly. He’s away on a business trip, and Finn is at his boarding school. The house is empty.” I couldn’t believe my ears. Our son’s ashes were barely cold, and she had already brought Tristan into our home. The phantom sound of my son’s dying screams and Tristan’s soft, playful laughter crashed together in my skull, threatening to tear my mind apart. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. Outside, Diana’s footsteps drew closer to Finn’s door. “You can stay in Finn’s room for now. The bed is a bit small, but…” I threw the door open, my sanity shattering into dust. “Get out! This is my son’s room! Who the hell gave you permission to stand here?” Diana and Tristan froze, eyes wide with shock. Tristan’s recovery was quick, offering a weak, nervous smile. “Johnny, you’re home? Wait, wasn’t Finn kidnapped? How is he?” Diana’s face darkened instantly, her eyes filling with cold disappointment. “I know I’ve been busy and haven’t had time for Finn, Johnny, but this is low. You didn’t have to fabricate a kidnapping just because you didn’t want him staying at school. If people find out that the husband of a police captain is spreading lies like this, do you have any idea what it will do to my reputation?” Even now, she chose to believe I was a liar rather than admit her son had actually been taken. Her only concern was her precious reputation. The room began to spin. I grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling. Diana let out a heavy sigh, her tone dripping with irritation. “I am a police officer. My duty is to the public. I don’t expect you to understand the pressure, but I do expect you to stop making things difficult for me. Tristan’s father is in the hospital nearby. Staying here makes it easier for Tristan to visit him. Finn isn’t even here, so the room is just going to waste anyway.” Emboldened by her defense, Tristan slipped past me into Finn’s room, looking around with a pleased expression. “This room is actually bigger than my master bedroom back home. Thank you, Diana.” Diana’s expression softened. “Of course. Stay as long as you need.” Watching them discuss how to redecorate my dead son’s sanctuary, a primal rage took over. I lunged forward, shoving Tristan hard. “Get the hell out! This is my son’s room! Get out!” Tristan stumbled back, his eyes immediately welling with tears. Diana caught him, her face twisting in anger. “Johnny! If you have a problem, take it out on me! Tristan is a guest. Why can’t you show some basic decency?” Tristan leaned his head against her shoulder, sniffling softly. “Johnny is probably still upset that you couldn’t pick Finn up the other day. I’m sorry, Johnny. It’s my fault. I rely on Diana too much. But please, don’t worry. I won’t stay for free. I’ll help around the house. Let me clean up this cabinet for you…” “Don’t touch that!” Seeing his hand reach toward the framed photo of Finn on the cabinet, my heart leaped into my throat. I threw myself forward. The frame slipped through my fingers and crashed onto the hardwood floor, the glass shattering, slicing my son’s smiling face into jagged pieces. The sharp pain of the glass slicing into my palms was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. I fell to my knees, desperately gathering the broken pieces of the photo. “Who told you to touch him?” Tristan shrank back, his face pale as he clutched at his shirt. He looked at Diana, his voice trembling. “Diana, I didn’t mean to. I just got startled. Finn is so young, why would Johnny put up a photo like that in his room? It looks like a memorial. Isn’t that bad luck for the boy?” Diana’s face turned incredibly grim. She stepped forward and snatched the torn photo right out of my hands. “What are you doing? Give it back! Diana, give it back!” I screamed, terrified. She pushed me away. “I should ask you what you think you’re doing, Johnny! Are you so bitter toward me that you’re willing to curse our own son? He is just a little boy! Why are you acting like he’s dead?” But Diana, he is dead. And you’re the one who killed him. Before I could speak, she tore the remaining paper to shreds, tossing the pieces in my face. The sharp edges nicked my cheek, but my heart was already bleeding. I knelt on the floor, trying to piece his face back together with trembling fingers. My mind drifted back to the years when Diana and I began to drift apart because of Tristan. I was always the one taking Finn to the park, attending his parent-teacher conferences, taking him to the clinic for his vaccines. Whenever the other parents asked, “Where is Diana? Working again?” I would just offer a tight, quiet smile and hold my boy closer. I knew she wasn’t too busy. She was just busy with Tristan. Tristan’s cat was lost, Tristan’s apartment was broken into, Tristan’s boss was giving him a hard time… On the day of the kidnapping, Finn had looked up at me and said, “Daddy, my birthday wish this year is for you to be happy.” He was so small, yet he already understood how broken we were. I had failed to protect him in life, and now, I was failing to protect his memory in death. Diana’s sharp voice dragged me back to the cold room. “Burn those stupid pieces of paper. I don’t want to see them again! Johnny, if you keep acting like this, you’re going to ruin this family. Don’t blame me if I end up divorcing you!” If Finn were still alive, I would have swallowed my pride and endured her words once again. But now, I looked up, my eyes bloodshot and dead. “You don’t have to threaten me. We are getting a divorce. Pack up your little friend and get out of my son’s room, or I’ll call the station and have your colleagues come drag you both out.” Diana pinched the bridge of her nose, her voice laced with exhaustion. “Johnny, can you please be rational for once? If I get a mark on my record, how does that help Finn? Can’t you think about him for a second?” “Think about him?” I grabbed a broom from the corner and swung it at them, screaming like a lunatic. “When you left our high-fever son with me while I was doubled over with a stomach ulcer just to take Tristan to an interview, did you think about him? When you were flirting with him, and everyone was whispering that my son and I were just a mistress and a schoolyard secret, did you think about him?” Diana shielded Tristan, her face turning pale. “That was years ago! Why do you always have to drag up the past? I have a demanding job, Johnny. I can’t stay home and watch you two twenty-four hours a day!” Tristan clutched her arm, looking incredibly meek. “Johnny, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you felt this way about me. There’s nothing going on between us. Once my father is out of the hospital, I’ll take him back to our hometown. I’ll stay far away. Please don’t fight with Diana. She works so hard every day.” His submissive tone only made Diana more protective. She glared at me, her eyes filled with disgust. “You’ve worked so hard to build a life here, Tristan. Your father deserves the best medical care. You have nothing to apologize for. He is the one who should be apologizing.” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. Our seven-year marriage was nothing but a sickening joke. “Why should I apologize? He isn’t going anywhere. He’s just putting on a show to make you feel sorry for him!” Tristan bit his lip, tears spilling over. “Johnny, I was only trying to help. Why do you hate me so much?” Seeing his tears, Diana’s anger erupted. She grabbed the broom from my hands and shoved me back with all her strength. “Enough, Johnny! Don’t push me to my limit!” The sharp edge of the cabinet corner sliced into my back. I gasped at the sudden, biting pain, but I forced a cold laugh. “I’m the one divorcing you, Diana. I regret the day I met you. If I had never married you, maybe our son wouldn’t…” Before I could finish, Tristan’s phone rang. He answered it, gasping in horror. “Diana, the hospital said my father ran away again! What do I do?” Diana immediately wrapped her arm around him. “Don’t panic. I’ll get my unit to look for him right now. We’ll find him.” She glanced at my pale, sweating face, her tone shifting slightly. “Tristan only has his father left. I’ll come back as soon as we find him. Make sure you pick Finn up from school today. I remember his birthday is coming up. Let’s have a nice family dinner.” I let out a hollow laugh. “Diana, Finn’s birthday was two days ago.” The day he died. But she didn’t hear me. She was already dragging Tristan out the door, her back turned to me once again. 2 I forced a wry smile, cleaned up my son’s room, locked the door, and went out to print a new copy of his photo. When I returned, the front door was wide open. Fear gripped my chest, and I ran inside. Finn’s bedroom door had been violently forced open. Tristan was standing in the living room, casually directing a couple of moving men as they hauled Finn’s toys and books out of the room. I rushed over, screaming, “Stop! Get out of my house!” Tristan crossed arms, looking entirely unbothered. “Johnny, Diana bought this place. She told me her father-in-law, my dad, doesn’t like the hospital. He’s going to live here from now on. She said I can redecorate the room however I want.” I shook with rage. When we got married, Diana was just a broke rookie cop. I was the one who bought this house and put her name on the deed as a wedding gift. I lunged forward, grabbing Tristan by his hair and dragging him toward the door. “This is my house! Get the hell out before I call the police for trespassing!” Seeing the fight, the movers quickly dropped their boxes and bolted. Tristan shrieked, clawing at my hands. Suddenly, a burly, disheveled older man rushed out of the bathroom, shouting obscenities. “Let go of my son, you bastard!” Tristan’s father, Mr. Ward, charged at me, delivering a heavy blow that sent me crashing to the floor. My head spun, and before I could recover, the older man pinned me down, cursing as his fists rained down on my face. My face swelled, and blood began to seep from my eye. My screams echoed through the empty house. The door flew open, and Diana rushed in. She pulled Mr. Ward off me, her face pale with anger. “What is going on here?” Tristan threw himself in front of his father, sobbing dramatically. “Diana, don’t blame my dad! Johnny was trying to kick us out, and he attacked me! My dad was only trying to protect me!” My face was covered in blood, my body convulsing with pain. I reached blindly for my phone on the floor, but Diana snatched it away before I could touch it. “Johnny! You attacked them first, and now you want to play the victim?” she yelled. “I was the one who invited Tristan and his father to stay here. If you have a problem, direct it at me! Don’t attack innocent people!” I coughed, spitting a mouthful of dark blood onto the floor. Diana knelt down, using a tissue to wipe the blood from my chin, her voice softening slightly. “I know you’re hurting, but making a scene like this won’t help. Just drop it, please. For my sake.” Tears of blood slipped down my cheeks. Seeing Diana take his side, Tristan grew bold. He began tossing Finn’s remaining things into the hallway like trash. “What is this box?” he asked, picking up a small, polished wooden container. I struggled to lift my head, my eyes locking onto the small box. It was Finn’s urn. “No… please…” I croaked, my voice barely a whisper. Diana didn’t hear me. She glanced at the box and sniffed. “I’ve never seen it before. Just throw it out. It looks like bad luck anyway.” With a casual flick of her wrist, she snatched it from his hand and tossed it toward the trash pile. “No!” I lunged forward, but the heavy wooden box hit the wall and shattered right over my head. My son’s grey ashes rained down, mixing with the fresh blood pouring from my scalp. In that instant, the world faded, and all I could see was Finn lying in that dark alley, covered in blood. The last thread of my sanity snapped. I began to wail, a desperate, animalistic sound. I thrashed on the floor, throwing whatever I could reach, completely hysterical. “Get out! All of you, get out! Get the hell out of my house!” Diana shielded Tristan and his father, screaming back at me. “Johnny, it’s just a stupid wooden box! Why are you acting like a madman?” A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my chest, cutting off my breath. I vomited another mouthful of blood and collapsed into the darkness. When I opened my eyes again, the hospital room was quiet and empty. I reached for my wallet, pulling out the small passport photo of Finn I kept in my pocket. Holding it close to my chest, I dialed a number. “Hello? I’d like to file a formal complaint against Police Captain Diana Chen.” 3 The next day, Diana walked through the corridors of the station. She noticed her colleagues looking at her with strange, distant expressions. She assumed it was just because she had been away for a few days. Suddenly, her young deputy, Thomas, tapped her on the shoulder. “Captain… I am so incredibly sorry for your loss.” “What?” Diana’s heart seized. For some reason, her mind flashed to a black-and-white photo of Finn. Thomas looked at her face, his expression growing serious and confused. “Captain, you didn’t know? The convict you wrongfully arrested years ago… he got out of prison. He kidnapped your son…” An icy chill gripped Diana’s spine. “Where is Finn?” “The kidnapper killed him before the negotiators could arrive.” The color drained from Diana’s face. She stumbled, grabbing Thomas’s arm to keep her balance. “What did you say? Say that again!” Her sudden scream startled Thomas. He stared at her pale, terrified face, realization slowly dawning on him. “Captain, you really didn’t know? The entire department knows. Johnny was weeping in this very hallway. We tried calling you dozens of times, but you never answered. Didn’t you notice that the Captain’s office didn’t call you in for shifts? We thought you were taking time off to grieve. We didn’t want to disturb you. Did Johnny really not tell you?” Diana stood speechless, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Her mind flashed back to three days ago. Johnny had called her frantically, begging her to come to the hostage site. He said the kidnapper demanded to see her, or Finn would die. She had rushed toward her car. But halfway there, Tristan had called, crying hysterically. “Diana, my dad ran away again. I don’t know who else to call. Please help me find him.” Tristan’s father was a compulsive gambler who had ruined his family. He had even threatened to cut off his own fingers to quit, only to rack up an even larger debt elsewhere. Tristan had moved his father to the city to hide from loan sharks, keeping him locked inside. But the old man had jumped out of a window, nearly breaking his leg, and had escaped the hospital to gamble again. Diana had helped Tristan find his father several times before. She knew exactly what the old man had done. She told Tristan that her son was in danger and that he had to search for his father on his own. But Tristan had gasped. “That can’t be true, Diana. I just saw Johnny and Finn walking through the mall. I tried to wave, but Johnny ignored me.” Hearing that, Diana assumed Johnny had fabricated the kidnapping to force her home. Furious, she blocked his number and went to help Tristan instead. Now, she had no energy to wonder if Tristan had lied to her. She only knew her son was dead. Her only child was gone. She grabbed Thomas’s jacket, looking like a hollow ghost. “Where is his body? Take me to him. I don’t believe you!” Thomas’s face fell. “The kidnapper shot himself after killing the boy. The case was closed quickly. Johnny already took the body to be cremated…” Cremation. The polished wooden box. The grey dust that had rained down on her head. What had she said to him? “Just throw it out. It looks like bad luck anyway.” That was Finn’s ashes. Her own son. A wave of intense heat rushed up her throat, and veins bulged on her forehead. Suddenly, she coughed, spitting a thick spray of blood onto the floor. Thomas panicked, catching her as she wobbled. “Captain! Are you okay? I really had no idea you didn’t know. But maybe Johnny didn’t tell you to spare you the pain. The kid… it was really bad…” Thomas’s hesitation felt like a lead weight dropping onto her chest. She looked up, her chin covered in blood, her eyes so red they looked ready to burst. “What do you mean?” Her voice was thick with the copper taste of blood. Thomas quieted, lowering his voice. “To force you to show up, the kidnapper cut off pieces of Finn’s body every thirty minutes and sent them to Johnny. First his ears, then his fingers, then…” Diana couldn’t hear the rest. Her body collapsed inward, curling onto the floor as if she could hide from the reality crashing down on her. As a seasoned officer, she had handled horrific homicides. She had seen mutilated bodies. The moment Thomas spoke, the images flooded her mind. Her son. Her beautiful little boy, who had just started first grade. How much pain must he have been in when those blades cut into him? Now, that agony was ripping through her own nerves. The world blurred, a chaotic mix of blood, tears, and cold sweat. In the dark, she could see Finn lying in a pool of blood, crying out for her. She had always taught him: “Real men don’t cry, Finn. You have to be brave.” And he had nodded, his small eyes full of determination. “I’m a brave man, Mommy. I won’t cry.” But at the end, when the pain became too much, he must have wept until his voice cracked, his blood mixing with the dust. “Mommy, it hurts so much! Where are you? Why aren’t you coming to save me? Mommy, help me!” With a dull thud, Diana hit the floor, her body shaking violently. Blood poured from her nose and mouth, a physical manifestation of a heart that had shattered beyond repair.

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Married for three years, and she slapped me across the face in the middle of a board meeting. All for her one that got away. She looked down at me. “Oscar, give the company to him. You don’t deserve it.” I just smiled. No tears, no screaming, no flipping tables. I quietly signed the equity transfer agreement and slid the corporate seal across the mahogany table. Everyone in that room thought I was a coward yielding to the pressure. But they didn’t know the truth. Sitting on that company’s books was a black hole of eighty million dollars. My hand was shaking when I signed those papers. Not out of anger. I was terrified she might change her mind. 1 When Beatrice walked into the conference room, every executive stood up. It wasn’t out of respect. It was because of the man walking right behind her. Oliver. Her college sweetheart. Her “perfect regret.” Word on the street was that he was a Wall Street hotshot who had just moved back from London, a financial prodigy with a ruthless edge. I was sitting at the head of the table. The coffee in my mug was still steaming. The moment I saw them walk in shoulder to shoulder, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But Beatrice’s first words made it painfully clear. We weren’t here to discuss the quarterly earnings report. “Oscar Pendleton.” She used my full name. The last time she called me by my full name was three years ago at the courthouse when we signed our marriage certificate. I set my mug down. “What’s going on?” She marched right up to me. Her heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor. Then, she raised her hand. Smack. She slapped me hard across the left cheek. The entire boardroom flatlined. The pen in Richard’s hand slipped. It clattered to the floor and rolled under the table. The old financial director froze for three seconds, not even daring to reach for it. My head snapped to the side. A dull ringing echoed in my left ear. It didn’t hurt. Honestly, it didn’t hurt at all. But I still put on a mask of absolute heartbreak. After all, I had been waiting three long months for this exact slap. Beatrice’s eyes were red. I couldn’t tell if it was genuine emotion or just a performance. Her acting skills had definitely improved over the last three years. “Oscar, give the company to him.” She pointed a manicured finger at Oliver standing behind her. “You don’t deserve it.” Oliver stood tall. His expression was composed, but his eyes carried a distinct glint that screamed he was simply better than me. His tailored suit fit flawlessly. His hair was styled to perfection. The guy radiated the insufferable energy of a motivational speaker on a TED Talk stage. I almost burst out laughing right there. There were eleven executives in that room. Not a single one made a sound. Some stared at their phones. Some found the ceiling tiles fascinating. Others suddenly developed a profound academic interest in the plastic water bottles on the table. My secretary, Sarah, stood in the corner. She was biting her lip so hard it was about to bleed. She was the only person in the room who knew the actual financial data. Besides me, of course. I took a deep breath and stood up. “Alright.” Beatrice blinked. She had clearly prepped herself for a massive shouting match. Behind her, Oliver also stiffened. He probably didn’t expect his hero moment to go this smoothly. I walked to the other end of the table and picked up the equity transfer agreement the legal team had drafted in advance. I flipped to the last page. Signed it. Stamped it. I slid the corporate seal right to Oliver’s fingertips. The whole process took less than two minutes. Richard finally picked up his pen from the floor. He looked at me with an expression so complicated it could have been a modern art exhibit. He was a veteran numbers guy. He knew exactly what those digits meant. But he didn’t dare say a word. Because Beatrice was Victor Sinclair’s daughter. Victor might be retired, but the old man still cast a long shadow in this industry. I pushed the signed documents toward Beatrice. “Sign it.” She picked up the pen. Her hand was trembling. Maybe it was excitement. Maybe she was moved to tears. She was finally merging the love of her life with her family’s empire. How poetic. I gave her a silent standing ovation in my head. After signing, Beatrice looked up at me. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something else. I didn’t give her the chance. “I’ve already packed my things. Keep the house. I’m taking my car. It’s not worth much anyway, so consider it my parting gift to you.” I grabbed my keys off the table and walked toward the door. “Oh, right.” I glanced back at Oliver. He squared his shoulders and met my gaze head-on. “Congratulations.” I left him with that single word and pushed through the glass doors. The hallway was incredibly long. My leather shoes clicked against the marble floor. Step after step. The elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside and hit the button for the underground garage. The second those metal doors closed. I smiled. It wasn’t a bitter smile. It wasn’t a cold smirk. It was the genuine, soul-cleansing, weight-of-the-world-lifting grin of a man who just tossed a live grenade into someone else’s lap. I covered my face and crouched in the corner of the elevator. My shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. I made it to the garage, got into my car, and slammed the door shut. Then I laughed for a solid thirty minutes. I laughed until I was starved for oxygen. I laughed until my ribs ached. I laughed until my tears soaked the leather steering wheel. I’m not a psychopath. You just don’t know the truth. Sitting on that company’s balance sheet was a black hole of exactly eighty million dollars. Eighty million. Not eighty thousand. I saw those audit reports last year. I had been fighting off furious suppliers and their unpaid invoices the year before that. Abandoned construction projects. Lawsuit payouts. Notices for unpaid taxes. They were all stuffed inside my desk drawer. I had sent Beatrice three separate emails. I texted her twice. I even called her for forty minutes straight, begging her to understand the financial reality of her father’s company. Her exact words to me were: “Can you just show a little ambition for once? Stop bothering me with your corporate whining.” Fine. I won’t bother you anymore. You wanted the company today. You got it. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I pulled my phone out of the glovebox and shot a text to my best friend, Mario. “Are you free tonight? I’m buying drinks at your spot.” Three seconds later, he replied. “You’re paying? Did the sky fall down? What happened?” “I’m divorced.” “What time? I’m going to murder that Sinclair woman.” “No, don’t.” I typed out the next line as fast as I could. “I’m buying drinks to celebrate.” There was a ten-second pause before his next message popped up. “Are you insane?” I chuckled and started the engine. My phone started ringing. Victor Sinclair. I glanced at the caller ID and hit decline. Today was the happiest day of my life in three years. My father-in-law. Wait, my ex-father-in-law’s calls could wait for another day. 2 Mario’s smokehouse was tucked away in a grimy corner on the Southside. Twenty sticky tables. No air conditioning. Just three massive industrial fans blowing warm air around. The beer was three bucks a bottle. You grabbed your own ribs from the warmer, and he tallied up the bones on your plate to charge you at the end. By the time I got there, he already had a table set up in the back alley. Eight bottles of cheap lager sat between us. Four were already popped open. They were all for him. “Spill it. What the hell is going on.” He shoved an open bottle into my hand. I gave him the play-by-play of exactly what went down in the boardroom. I left out the part where I giggled in my car for half an hour. Mario listened. Then he slammed his fork down on the plastic table. “That arrogant piece of work! She slapped you in front of the whole board? Who does she think she is! You’ve been breaking your back for that sinking ship for three years.” “Mario.” “What?” “The company is eighty million in the hole.” Mario froze. A piece of brisket hung halfway out of his mouth. His jaw literally unhinged. He sat there completely paralyzed for ten whole seconds. Then he slowly pulled the meat from his mouth and set it down. “How much?” “Eighty million. Probably more by now.” “What are you saying?” “I’m saying that today, Beatrice forced me to hand the company over to her golden boy, Oliver. And right now, they are probably popping vintage champagne to celebrate stealing a hollow shell drowning in eighty million dollars of debt.” Mario opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. He grabbed his beer, chugged a massive gulp, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So you’re telling me you’re happy?” “I am ecstatic.” “Are you actually happy?” “I have never been this happy in my entire life.” Mario stared at me for ten long seconds. Then he slapped the table and burst out laughing. It started as a chuckle. Then it grew into a wheeze. Finally, he was howling, slumped over the table, pounding his fist against the plastic chair. A guy at the next table looked over, absolutely convinced we were out of our minds. “This is poetry!” Mario wiped a tear from his eye. “What do you even call this? Volunteering to jump on a live grenade!” “Pretty much.” “Does this Oliver guy have any clue?” “Not a chance. He stood behind Beatrice the whole time, chest puffed out, eyes full of determination. He looked exactly like a tech bro walking up to accept a startup award.” Mario lost it all over again. When he finally caught his breath, a thought hit him. “Wait. Why didn’t you just shut the place down before? Or file for bankruptcy?” I took a sip of my beer. “Do you really think Victor would let me close it? That company is his life’s work. Plus, I was the legal representative. If I filed for liquidation, I’d be the first one in the crosshairs. For three years, I’ve been trying to plug the holes. But eventually, I realized there were just more holes underneath.” “But the legal rep changed today?” “Exactly. Oliver signed the equity transfer. I had the legal team prep the change of representation paperwork weeks ago. The second his pen hit that paper, every single debt, lawsuit, and tax lien.” I raised my bottle and clinked it against his. “Has absolutely nothing to do with me.” Mario’s expression morphed from wild amusement into a bizarre kind of reverence. “Oscar, were you just waiting for this day?” “No.” I shook my head honestly. “I really wanted to save that company. But it’s beyond saving. Beatrice didn’t believe me. Victor thought I was just crying wolf. I issued three formal financial warnings. They ignored every single one.” “So if you couldn’t save it, you just had to.” “Wait for someone to take the fall.” “And they literally jumped in headfirst.” “She pushed him in with her own two hands.” Mario and I fell silent for three seconds. Then we both erupted into laughter again. I drank eight bottles of beer that night. It was the best beer I’d ever tasted. When I was leaving, Mario insisted on walking me to the street. He leaned on my shoulder, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “So this Oliver guy. What do you think is the very first thing he’s going to do on his first day tomorrow?” I thought about it. “He’ll probably change the artwork in the CEO’s office. He’s a guy who obsesses over aesthetics. I heard he framed two copies of his Master’s degree. One for his office, one above his bed.” “And then?” “Then he’ll have someone throw all my stuff in the trash and order a complete office remodel.” “And then?” “And then.” I looked out into the night street. “He’s going to open the desk drawer and look at the financial statements.” Mario shivered. “I almost feel bad for the guy.” “Don’t feel bad for him,” I patted his back. “Feel bad for the eighty million.” 3 How did I know exactly what happened on Oliver’s first day? Sarah texted me. My former secretary. Yesterday, Beatrice ordered her to become Oliver’s personal assistant starting today. Sarah’s text read exactly like this: “Mr. Pendleton, the new boss told me to clear everything out of your office. Do you want me to mail you that little cactus?” I typed back: “Throw it away. I’ve been watering that thing for three years. It only survived out of sheer spite. Just like the company.” Sarah sent back a crying-laughing emoji. Half an hour later, my phone buzzed again. “Mr. Sterling just finished his introductory meeting with the execs. Richard presented last quarter’s financials. Mr. Sterling has now locked himself in his office. The door is deadbolted.” I was sitting at home, eating instant ramen. Yes. Instant ramen. Not because I was broke. Because for the last three years, Beatrice banned me from eating it. She said it made the house smell cheap. Now that I was a free man, I went to the supermarket and bought one of every single flavor on the shelf. Spicy beef. Chicken teriyaki. Shrimp combo. Right now, I was slurping down the chili lime flavor. I hadn’t tasted this in three years. I took a massive bite, so incredibly satisfied that I could feel my toes uncurling. Absolute heaven. I typed back to Sarah while chewing: “Don’t panic. Last quarter was just the appetizer.” Sarah: “What does that mean?” Me: “Wait until he sees last year’s annual report.” Sarah: “Mr. Pendleton. I’m actually a little scared.” Me: “Scared of what? You’re an employee. The company got a new owner. As long as you get your paycheck, you’re fine. And if the checks bounce, it’s not your problem anymore.” Sarah: “No. I’m scared Mr. Sterling is going to pass out and no one is in there to catch him.” I choked on my noodles and nearly died coughing. At 1:00 PM, another text came through. “Mr. Sterling ordered Richard to pull up the detailed ledgers for the last three years. Richard was on the phone for forty minutes. He just wheeled three massive boxes of archives in there. The office door is locked again.” At 2:00 PM. “Three suppliers just showed up demanding payment. Mr. Sterling came out to handle it. He talked to them for twenty minutes. When he walked back in, his glasses were totally fogged up and the muscle in his cheek was twitching.” Three suppliers. Only three. Before I left, the actual number of suppliers with outstanding balances was fourteen. And these three were the polite ones. The other eleven were probably warming up their engines right now. I put my phone down and turned on the TV. I flipped through a few channels until I found a stand-up comedy special. The sound of jokes mixing with the smell of cheap ramen. My soul was at absolute peace. At 6:00 PM, Beatrice called. I hesitated. Not about whether to answer it. I was hesitating about what tone of voice I should use. Ultimately, I chose the best option. I let it ring out. She called back two more times. On the third try, I picked up. “Hello?” “Oscar Pendleton! You better explain to me right now why this company owes Apex Construction one point two million dollars!” Her voice was an octave higher than usual. It was so piercing I had to pull the phone two inches away from my ear. I got sick of that tone three years ago. “That was the final payment for the October project last year. I told you about it. You were vacationing in the Bahamas. Your exact reply to me was, ‘Stop bothering me with this trivial garbage.’” Dead silence on the other end. “Then why didn’t you handle it!” “I tried. I drafted a payment plan. It required your signature for approval. But that was the day you and Oliver went to that symphony in the city and skipped work. I followed up twice after that. You ghosted me.” More silence. Longer this time. “What about the rest of it? Richard says there’s a whole pile.” “I told you about all of them. By email, by text, and in person. Seven different times. You didn’t acknowledge a single one.” “You.” “Beatrice, you’re the majority shareholder now. These problems belong to you and your CEO. I’m just the ex-husband who got kicked out with nothing. I really can’t help you.” “You son of a!” “Oh, by the way. A few more suppliers might drop by tomorrow. Try to be nice to them. Don’t do what I did. I was way too polite, and they ended up chasing me around the parking lot.” I hung up. Then I brewed myself a cup of tea. Green tea. When Beatrice lived here, she only drank espresso. She said tea tasted like dirty water. Dirty water? I took a sip. The aroma was incredible. It didn’t taste like dirty water at all.

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