Category: English

My boyfriend and I ran the tea room my grandmother left behind. I was the spine of the operation—sourcing the leaves, blending the brews, and managing the inventory. He was the face—standing at the front counter, charming the customers with his easy smile. After the shop blew up on social media, he changed the name. The day the new sign went up was the day I realized it bore his name and his protégée’s name. Olivia stood by the entrance, snapping a selfie with the brand-new storefront. She turned to me with a sweet, delicate smile. “You don’t mind, do you, Cora? Ollie said you hate being in the spotlight anyway.” Ollie calmly folded the wooden ladder, setting it against the brick wall before patting her head. “Why would she mind? The new franchise location is going to have your name on it, too. You’re the influencer, Olivia. You bring in the crowd. Having your name on the door is just good business.” I stared at the rusty old brass wind chimes swaying in the window. Then I turned around, pulled my business license from the very bottom drawer of the desk, and texted a photo of it to my lawyer. “The shop belongs to me. I want to break up with my boyfriend. How do I kick him out with absolutely nothing?” … The day I went to see my lawyer, the sun was blinding. I brought the business license, the lease agreement, and our original ledgers. The lawyer took the old ledger, his eyes lingering on the faint tea stains blooming across the cover. “Is this the primary record?” I nodded, placing our old wooden stamp on the desk beside it. “My grandmother left it to me. Every shipment, every loan, every restock—I hand-stamped all of them.” The lawyer flipped through the pages, his finger pausing on the earliest promissory note. “Ollie signed these?” “He did,” I said. “At first. Later, he told me that since we were going to get married, there was no need to draw lines. So he stopped signing.” Right then, Ollie’s call flashed on my screen. I tapped the speaker button. His voice was steady, as usual. “Cora, did you take the ledgers?” I watched the lawyer photocopy a page. “Yes.” A brief silence hung over the line. When Ollie spoke again, his voice had softened. “Stop making a scene. We just hung the new sign today, and the local press is still here. Bring the ledgers back tomorrow.” I asked, “Whose idea was it to use my business license for the new franchise?” Quiet stretched over the call. Then, Olivia’s voice chimed in. “Cora, please don’t get the wrong idea. Ollie was just worried the paperwork would take too long. He’s just borrowing your license to get things rolling. Once the revenue starts coming in, we’ll transfer everything properly.” Ollie murmured in the background, “Olivia, go back to the front counter.” She giggled. “Alright. I’ll leave you two alone to talk.” I stared at the chipped edge of the wooden stamp on the desk. Ollie had chipped it three years ago when he was first learning how to press it into the wax. He had told me then: “From now on, this stamp only goes on things with both our names.” Now, his voice came through the speaker. “Cora, the license was just sitting there. The shop belongs to both of us. Don’t blow this out of proportion.” “So you knew?” I asked. “Of course I knew,” he said, sounding annoyed. “I’m the manager. Who else would authorize a franchise?” The lawyer looked up at me. I kept my expression blank. Ollie finally seemed to sense the coldness in my silence. “Where are you?” “Out.” “Come back,” he said. “My mom’s blood pressure spiked because of your attitude, and Olivia’s in tears. She was supposed to have her promotional shoot today. Do you really have to make a fool of everyone?” My mind drifted back to the afternoon. When the velvet cover fell, revealing the new sign, the gathered crowd had clapped. “Olivia & Ollie’s Tea Co.” was blindingly bright. “Which one is the owner’s wife?” someone in the crowd had asked. Olivia had stood beside Ollie, blushing and waving her hands. “Oh, don’t say that! I’m just helping Ollie build the brand.” Ollie hadn’t corrected them. He had just clutched my old stamp in his palm, leaning in to whisper, “Cora, be reasonable.” I had waited. I had waited for him to say that I was the real partner, the heartbeat of the shop. He never did. On the phone, Ollie spoke again. “Did you hear me? Bring the ledgers back. Don’t make me come find you.” I turned off the speaker. “Is the recording enough?” I asked the lawyer. The lawyer nodded. “It is. But to prove unauthorized use of your sole proprietorship’s license, we need more transaction histories.” I pulled another stack of papers from my bag. The lawyer looked surprised. “You prepared all this in advance?” “No,” I whispered, looking down. “I just couldn’t bring myself to throw them away.” Within those papers were receipts from 3 AM returns, stormy nights where I had paid out-of-pocket for spoiled tea leaves, and the twenty thousand dollars I had pulled from my grandmother’s estate to cover Ollie’s mother’s surgery. I used to think those receipts were proof of our shared struggle. Now I realized they only proved I was the one paying the bills. My phone lit up again. A voice note from his mother played. I tapped it. “Cora, a woman who is too capable only emasculates her husband. Ollie is willing to throw you a bone; just take it and climb down. Don’t end up like your grandmother, clinging to a dusty old shop and dying with nothing.” My thumb froze over the screen. The lawyer remained quiet. I saved the audio. Someone tapped on the window of the law office. Ollie was standing outside, holding the old wooden stamp. When Ollie walked in, his eyes immediately found the ledgers on the desk. He didn’t look at me. His fingers pressed against the corner of the folder. “Cora, sharing family matters with an outsider isn’t appropriate.” The lawyer closed the file. “Mr. Morgan, misusing a sole proprietorship’s business license is no longer a family matter.” Ollie let out a dry laugh. “Misuse? I’m her partner, and I built this business from the ground up. How is using the license a misuse?” I looked up. “The registered owner on that license is me.” “But the public knows me,” Ollie’s voice remained low, controlled. “The suppliers know me, the media knows me, the customers know me. Cora, stop playing the victim. I never stopped you from managing the books in the back.” It was almost funny. He said it like it was a favor. “So my place is only in the kitchen?” I asked. Ollie frowned. “Do you have to twist my words?” Olivia peeked out from behind him, clutching a bouquet of promotional flowers. “Cora, I know you’ve worked hard. But if the brand wants to go national, someone has to be the face. You aren’t cut out for the camera, and I am. It’s just division of labor.” Ollie didn’t interrupt her. I looked at them standing side-by-side. Just like they were under the new sign an hour ago. Olivia smiled, Ollie enabled her, and I was expected to just swallow it. The lawyer asked, “Mr. Morgan, who signed the franchise lease?” Ollie’s expression cooled. “The corporation.” “We don’t have a corporation,” I said. Olivia whispered, “Ollie registered one, Cora. “M&W Hospitality Group”. You don’t usually look at these things, so of course you didn’t know.” My chest tightens. “M&W”. It wasn’t just the sign. Ollie finally looked at me. “It was just to secure funding. Olivia has the social media reach, and the investors wanted her name on it. Don’t worry, you’ll still get your share.” “What share?” I asked. He tapped his knuckles on the desk, losing patience. “Cora, stop obsessing over a name. The money, the house, the title of my wife—it’s all yours. What more do you want?” I thought about it. “I want the tea room.” Olivia’s eyes well up instantly. “Cora, how can you say that? Ollie worked himself to the bone these past few years. You can’t discredit everything he did just because of a name.” Ollie turned to her. “Don’t cry.” Then he looks at me, his voice freezing over. “See? One word from you, and she’s crying again.” I don’t bother explaining. In the past, I would have. I would have explained that I didn’t mean it that way, that I was just terrified of seeing my grandmother’s legacy erased, that I wasn’t attacking Olivia. Now, I just push the ledgers closer to my lawyer. Ollie reached for them. The lawyer pressed his hand over the folder. “Apologies, Mr. Morgan. This is evidence.” Ollie’s face darkens. He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Cora, the press is still at the shop. The staff is watching. Come back with me, take a photo with Olivia, and tell everyone the rebranding was a joint decision. If you do that, I’ll forget this ever happened.” “And if I don’t?” He stared at me. “Then your grandmother’s old flagship lease? Don’t expect me to renew it next month.” My breath hitches. That old shop was the last physical memory of my grandmother. After the franchise took off, Ollie always complained the old shop was too small, too dated, too useless. But whenever I suggested closing it, he’d say we should keep it for “sentimental value.” It turned out sentiment was just leverage. Olivia says softly, “Cora, Ollie isn’t threatening you. He’s just stressed. The old location barely gets foot traffic anyway. Keeping it open is just losing money.” Ollie set the old wooden stamp down in front of me. “Sign the joint statement,” he said. “Stamp it yourself. It’ll be more convincing.” I look at the stamp. The wood was warm from his hand. I reached out, and for a second, he thought I’ve broken. His shoulders relaxed. Then, I slid the stamp into my purse. Ollie’s expression hardened. My phone vibrated. A text from Abby, our barista at the old shop. It was a photo. A notice of permanent closure was taped to the glass door. Signed by “M&W Hospitality Group”. By the time I rushed back to the old shop, the metal shutter was already halfway down. Abby was standing outside, her eyes red. “Cora, I couldn’t stop them. They said Ollie ordered a full inventory liquidation. The construction crew is coming tomorrow.” I knelt down and picked up a crumpled piece of paper from the pavement. It was a menu sheet written in my grandmother’s handwriting: “Peach & Osmanthus Cold Brew”. There was a dirty boot print across the corner. The construction foreman, a cigarette dangling from his lip, looked up from his phone. “You Cora? Mr. Morgan’s orders. We’re turning this place into a live-streaming studio. Tearing down the walls, ripping out the counter.” “Who gave you permission to touch this place?” I asked. He handed me a contract. “M&W Hospitality Group. Signed and stamped.” At the bottom, there was a corporate seal. Not my old wooden stamp. A new corporate seal. Sole Director: Ollie Morgan. Shareholder: Olivia Ward. My mother-in-law walked out of the shop, cradling my grandmother’s celadon tea jar. “Don’t let these old dusty things clutter the place. Olivia says the streaming studio needs to look clean and modern. Young people like bright spaces.” I reached for it. “Donna, that was my grandmother’s.” She pulled back. “Your grandmother has been gone for years, Cora. You have to move on. Besides, Ollie is the one who made this business successful. What are you doing holding onto these old broken pots?” Abby can’t help herself. “Mrs. Morgan, Cora is the one who ran this shop day in and day out. When Ollie was gone, she carried the whole place on her back!” Donna’s face soured. “You’re just an hourly worker, what do you know? She married into our family. Helping her husband is her job.” The neighbors gathered around the door were murmuring. “Wait, so the wife isn’t the one on the sign?” “Why is she excluded from the brand?” “I heard she hates being seen. Maybe she doesn’t actually do anything.” The words weren’t loud, but they stung like paper cuts. Ollie arrived soon after. He saw the crumpled menu in my hand, his brow furrowing. “Cora, are you really going to make a scene in front of the neighbors?” I hold up the closure notice. “You’re tearing down the flagship?” “We’re upgrading it,” his voice was smooth, defensive. “You’ve been stuck in the past for too long. I’m just making the decision for you.” “With whose shop? To benefit whom?” Ollie glanced at the onlookers, dropping his voice. “Stop talking about this in public. It’s embarrassing.” Olivia stepped out of his car, wearing a white sundress, holding a slick brand brochure. “Cora, look, this is the proposal I drafted. We’ll keep some vintage elements. We aren’t throwing everything away.” She opened the first page. The headline read: “The Origins of Olivia & Ollie’s Tea Co.” Beneath it, in smaller print: “A brand born from a humble storefront, built on the shared dream of Ollie Morgan and his partner, Olivia Ward.” I stared at the words. They didn’t just steal the shop. They stole the history. I look at Ollie. “Do you think this is right?” He paused. “It’s just marketing, Cora.” “And where do I go?” “You’re my wife,” he says, as if that solves everything. “Isn’t that enough?” I smile. It’s not. But I don’t say it. Olivia closes the brochure, sighing. “Cora, please don’t be like this. Ollie is caught in the middle, and it’s exhausting for him.” Donna chimes in. “Exactly. If you actually cared about him, you wouldn’t humiliate him in public.” Ollie, losing the last of his patience, grabbed my wrist. “We’re going home to talk.” His grip wasn’t painful, but it was unyielding. Just then, the foreman walked over with a cardboard box. “Mr. Morgan, do we keep these old ledgers and receipts? Found them under the counter.” I look at the box. Right on top was a lease addendum from three years ago. Back then, when we opened the second location, Ollie said we were short on cash. He asked me to transfer the flagship’s lease under a “joint family venture.” But the signature on the tenant line wasn’t Ollie’s. It was Olivia’s. I pull the sheet out. Ollie’s fingers freeze. The smile slides right off Olivia’s face. Tucked behind the lease was a sticky note in Ollie’s handwriting: “Don’t let Cora see this yet. She’s too soft-hearted. We’ll tell her once the brand is established.” I fold the note and slip it into my bag. Ollie watches me, his voice losing its edge. “That was just a temporary arrangement for investors. Don’t overthink it.” “Three years ago,” I say, “Olivia was already taking over my grandmother’s shop?” Olivia panics. “Cora, I was just helping Ollie network! You were so exhausted back then, he just didn’t want to worry you.” Ollie nods quickly. “Exactly. I was trying to protect you.” I look at him. I “had” been exhausted three years ago. My grandmother had just passed, Donna needed major surgery, and the renovation debts were suffocating. Ollie used to hold me every night, whispering, “Don’t worry, Cora. I’ve got you.” It turns out “having me” meant signing my shop over to Olivia behind my back. I don’t scream. I just ask, “Was using my business license for the franchise also to ‘protect’ me?” Ollie scowls. “Does every word out of your mouth have to have a sting to it?” Donna shoves the celadon jar into Olivia’s arms. “Olivia, dear, ignore her. Pregnant women shouldn’t be subjected to this kind of stress.” The air goes perfectly still. I look at Olivia’s hands. She instinctively covers her lower stomach. Ollie’s face goes pale. “Mom.” Donna realizes her slip of the tongue and tries to backpedal. “I mean… her stomach is sensitive. She gets upset easily.” Olivia’s eyes fill with tears. “Ollie, it’s fine. Cora was going to find out eventually anyway.” It feels like a physical blow, quiet but devastating. Ollie steps in front of me, blocking the neighbors’ views. “Cora, let’s go home and discuss this.” “She’s pregnant?” I ask. He is silent. Olivia whimpers, “Cora, I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. But Ollie was drinking, and he told me you two hadn’t been a real couple in years, and I just…” “Enough,” Ollie snaps. But it is already enough. Donna, seeing the cat is out of the bag, straightens her spine. “The child is a Morgan. Olivia is young, she can help his career, and she can actually have children. You haven’t produced a child in years, Cora. You can’t blame Ollie for wanting to carry on the family name.” Abby is shaking with rage. “You people are absolute monsters!” Ollie glares at her. “Keep your mouth shut.” I place the crumpled menu back on the counter. Believing I’m defeated, Ollie’s voice softens. “Cora, I don’t want a divorce. The baby can be taken care of quietly. We can still run the shop together. If you don’t make a fuss, no one has to know.” I look up at him. “So the new sign didn’t have my name on it because you were clearing a path for her and the baby?” He looks away. “Don’t put it like that. Olivia is essential for the brand. The baby was an accident.” Olivia snifffles. “Cora, I won’t fight you for the title of his wife. I just want my baby to have a father.” I look at the celadon jar in her arms. My grandmother used to use that jar every spring to cure the tea leaves. Olivia is cradling it like a trophy. Ollie pulls out a document and sets it on the counter. “This is the flagship lease transfer confirmation. Just sign it. Once you do, I’ll give you a five percent non-dilutable stake in the new corporation. The franchise issue will go away.” I open the document. Transferor: Cora Lindon. Transferee: Olivia Ward. I finally understand the sticky note from three years ago. He always knew I was soft-hearted. He knew I would yield, time and time again, for the sake of the family, the shop, and his mother. He turned my capacity to care into his leverage. Ollie slides a pen toward me. “Or you can just stamp it. You always carry that old wooden stamp with you, don’t you?” I pull the stamp out of my bag. His expression relaxes. I hold the cold wood in my palm, but I don’t press it to the paper. Instead, I dial my lawyer’s number and put it on speaker. “We have everything,” I say. “Identity theft, asset diversion, infidelity, and fraudulent lease transfers.” Ollie’s face drops. The lawyer’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Understood, Ms. Lindon. Do you want to initiate the lawsuits and file the formal reports with the authorities now?” I look straight at Ollie. He still thinks I’m bluffing. He reaches for my phone. I step back. “File them.”

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Emma had always been too quiet, too fragile to keep many friends. On her wedding day, I was the only bridesmaid standing by her side. During the pre-ceremony prep, the door to the bridal suite burst open. The groomsmen, already smelling of cheap beer and expensive cologne, crowded into the room. Before I could even react, one of them lunged forward, losing his balance, and slammed straight into my chest, pinning me flat against the mattress. “Whoops! Just trying to share some of that wedding magic with the beautiful bridesmaid,” Dustin laughed, his hot breath smelling of alcohol. I kicked him off me with all the strength I had. Tyler, the groom, stepped in to help him up, laughing and shaking his head. “You idiot. Keep it in your pants, you almost took her out.” I scrambled up, smoothing the wrinkles of my bridesmaid dress, my chest heaving with rage as I glared at Dustin. Tyler stepped between us, his voice dropping to a warning low. “Hannah, today is about me and Emma. Don’t make a scene.” Emma looked at me from the vanity, her hands trembling, silently shaking her head. My heart softened. For her sake, I let it go. But the boundary-pushing didn’t stop. A few minutes later, as Tyler was helping Emma slip into her designer heels for the photos, the crowd started chanting. “Kiss it first! Kiss the shoe!” Dustin seized the moment. Before I could move, he slid my high heel off, grabbed my bare foot, and planted a wet kiss on my arch. “Damn, bridesmaid’s feet are softer than the bride’s.” This time, I didn’t hold back. I swung my arm and slapped him across the face. The room went dead silent. Tyler’s face darkened instantly. “Hannah, what the hell? You slap my best man at my wedding?” Dustin held his cheek, feigning innocence. “Hey, it’s just a joke. In my hometown, kissing the bridesmaid’s foot is a tradition. It brings the couple luck.” “See? It’s a tradition,” Tyler said, poking his finger against my collarbone. “You pull another stunt like that, and you can get the hell out.” Emma stepped forward, her voice shaking. “Tyler, please…” Tyler whipped around, glaring at her. “Emma, I swear to God, my boys are my line in the sand. If my best man isn’t having a good time today, there is no wedding.” Emma reached out, grasping my hand. Her fingers were ice-cold, her eyes swimming with tears. “Hannah, please… if you leave, I won’t have anyone.” … My anger warred with my protective instincts. Looking at Emma’s tear-stained face, the harsh words on the tip of my tongue dissolved. “Fine. I’m staying.” But I couldn’t help glaring at Tyler and Dustin. “I heard there’s another tradition where the bridesmaid kicks the best man’s teeth in to ensure a long life. Do you boys want to try that one?” The room hung in a tense silence for two seconds before Tyler chuckled, and the rest of the groomsmen joined in. “Sure,” Tyler said, pointing a finger at me. “Dustin, she wants to kick your teeth in. You scared?” Dustin licked his lips. “Why would I be? If the bridesmaid wants to get physical, I’m happy to lay down and let her. I just don’t know if she can get her leg that high. Maybe I should help her stretch out first?” A few of the younger groomsmen whistled. An older uncle laughed, muttering something about young blood, but his eyes were glued to the spectacle. “Alright, that’s enough,” Tyler said, waving his hand. He gave me a cold look. “Hannah, today is our day. Don’t ruin it.” Emma pulled me aside, her whisper frantic. “Hannah, just get through the ceremony. Once the reception starts, it’ll all be over…” “Is that what you call a happy day?” I asked quietly. Emma’s eyes welled up again. I closed my eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. “Fine. It’s your wedding. I won’t start anything.” After that, Tyler knelt back down to finish putting on Emma’s shoes. Emma kept her head low, tears catching on her eyelashes, forcing a tight, painful smile for the photographer. When it was time to leave for the venue, Tyler picked Emma up in his arms, marching out toward the waiting limo. I turned to follow, but a pair of strong arms suddenly locked around my waist from behind, lifting me off my feet. I looked back. It was Dustin. His grip on my waist and wrists was vice-like, dragging me backward. “Put me down!” I thrashed, but he didn’t budge. “Stop squirming, baby,” he whispered against my ear, his grin filthy. “I’d hate to drop you and bruise that pretty body.” Through the window of the limo, I caught Emma’s eye as she was helped into the backseat. She stared back at me, her lips trembling. She didn’t speak. Instead, she pressed her hands together under her chin, bowing slightly. A silent, desperate plea for me to endure it just a little longer. Dustin hoisted me higher. “We have the same last name, you know. It’s fate. We should just get together. We’ll keep the family name going.” I looked him dead in the eye. “I would rather die single and rotting.” He laughed harder. “God, I love a girl with claws. The wilder they are, the better it feels to break them in.” He shoved me into the backseat of the bridal party car. Before I could even sit up, his hand slid across my thigh. I lost control. I swung my hand and delivered a full-force slap across his face. The sound cracked like a whip in the confined space. Dustin’s head jerked back, a thin line of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. But he didn’t get angry. He wiped the blood with his thumb, licked it, and smiled. “Fiesty. I like that. We’ll see how tough you are when the reception is over and the lights go out.” Up front, the driver chuckled. “Dustin, stop acting like a dog on a leash.” Dustin laughed, pinching my cheek hard enough to leave a mark. “Wait for me, babe. I’ll come get you when we arrive.” Someone poked their head through the car window. “Did she make you bleed? Getting blood on a wedding day is bad luck.” “It’s fine,” Dustin shrugged, waving them off. “The bridesmaid just got a little too excited. It was an accident.” The occupants of the car laughed. I dug my fingernails into my palms, using the physical pain to hold back my tears. My phone vibrated. It was a text from Emma. “Hannah, I am so, so sorry… Tyler’s parents are here, and he has a terrible temper. If I ruin this day, I don’t know how I’ll survive living with them…” “Please, just bear with it. Once we get to the hotel, the worst is over.” When I didn’t reply, another message popped up. “Hannah, please don’t hate me…” “I’m trapped. You can scream at me later, just don’t leave.” And finally: “Hannah, you’re my only bridesmaid. If you walk out, I have no one.” The twenty-minute drive felt like an eternity. When the car finally stopped at the luxury hotel venue, the door was ripped open. Dustin reached in, grabbed me by the waist, and dragged me out. My leg scraped hard against the door frame, leaving a burning scratch on my ankle. “We’re here, babe. Let’s get you inside.” The ballroom was packed with guests drinking and talking. The coordinator’s voice boomed over the mic: “Alright, let’s get the bridal party on the bed in the bridal suite for some photos! It’s a tradition to bring the couple beautiful children!” Tyler looked at Emma, then gave Dustin a look. A cold knot formed in my stomach. “Dustin, your mom’s been begging for a grandbaby, hasn’t she?” Tyler smirked. Dustin grinned. Before I could retreat, he swept me into his arms, carrying me over to the massive bed where Tyler had just tossed Emma. He threw me down beside her, rolling over to pin my legs down with his own. His arms locked around my waist. I couldn’t breathe. I have SVT—a heart condition that triggers a dangerously rapid heart rate under physical stress or extreme anxiety. Dustin’s hand slid up my ribs, his weight crushing my chest. My heart began to hammer violently, a frantic, erratic rhythm that felt like it was going to burst through my throat. My vision blurred. When they finally let us up, I scrambled off the bed, stumbling blindly toward the suite’s private bathroom. I fell to my knees in front of the toilet, dry-heaving and vomiting up nothing but bile. Tears and sweat ruined my makeup. In the mirror, my mascara was smeared, my false eyelashes hung loose, and my chest was bright red from the strain. The door clicked open. Emma rushed in, her heavy train rustling behind her. She knelt beside me, rubbing my back, her hands shaking as she pulled out tissues. “Hannah… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” She repeated it like a mantra. I took the tissue, wiped my mouth, and sat back against the cold tiles. “Emma, is this really what you want?” Before she could answer, the door pushed open slightly. Tyler’s mother peered in, her eyes cold and dismissive. “Are you done throwing up? Doing that on a wedding day is disgusting. It’s bad luck.” She looked at me like I was street trash. “So fragile. If you couldn’t handle a little wedding fun, you shouldn’t have agreed to be in the bridal party.” The door slammed shut. The silence in the bathroom felt suffocating. Emma kept her head down, unable to look at me or the door her mother-in-law had just slammed. “Emma, that is your future mother-in-law,” I said, my voice hoarse. “You see how they treat people. Do you really want to marry into this family?” Emma’s lips trembled violently. “But… both our families are here. Forty tables of guests. The deposits are paid, the gifts are registered… My parents invited everyone from back home. If we cancel now…” “That is still better than spending the rest of your life with these monsters!” I snapped. “Hannah!” she cried out, her voice cracking before she shrank back, terrified of her own outburst. She grabbed my hand. “Hannah, please. Just one more hour. Just walk down the aisle with me, and then it’s over.” Her eyes were wide, pleading, like a cornered animal that had forgotten how to fight back. I felt a profound, heavy exhaustion settle into my bones. It had only been two hours, and I had been handled, degraded, and pushed to my physical limit. My heart was still fluttering dangerously in my chest. Why was I putting myself through this? But then I looked at her, and I remembered college. I remembered the night I had a 104-degree fever, and Emma—who could barely carry a laundry basket—had literally carried me down three flights of stairs to get me to an Uber. When I asked her later where she got the strength, she had simply said, “I couldn’t stand seeing you hurt.” She had held my freezing hands in the ER waiting room all night. I closed my eyes. “Fine. I will walk you down the aisle.” Emma threw her arms around me, sobbing into my shoulder. We touched up our makeup in the mirror. I watched her pull her mask of quiet obedience back over her face, smoothing her hair and locking her emotions away. When we stepped out, the hallway was crowded with Tyler’s relatives. They gossiped openly as we walked past. “That’s the bridesmaid. Such a diva.” “I heard she slapped the best man earlier. What a psycho.” “With a mouth like that, she’ll never find a man to take her.” I kept my eyes forward. Dustin was leaning against a pillar near the ballroom entrance, holding an unopened bottle of cheap champagne. When he saw me, he smirked. “Puking that hard? Sure you’re not pregnant, babe?” “Shut up, Dustin,” I spat, trying to brush past him. “Pop.” A deafening blast echoed in the narrow corridor. Before I could register the sound, a wave of cold, sticky liquid drenched my head. It poured down my hair, soaked through my collar, and saturated the thin fabric of my bridesmaid dress. The hallway erupted into roaring laughter. “Jesus, Dustin! You soaked her!” “Look at that—the dress is completely see-through now!” “Damn, the angry little bird actually has a nice body.” I looked down. The light pink chiffon dress was plastered to my skin, completely translucent. The outline of my adhesive bra was fully visible, and the skirt clung tightly to my thighs. Dustin stepped closer, his eyes slowly traveling down my wet body. “Wow. That champagne really shoots far. Tell me, babe… do you get this wet too?” Something inside me snapped. The thin thread of my patience disintegrated. I grabbed the empty bottle from his hand, smashed the base against the stone pillar, and pointed the jagged, glittering glass directly at his throat. The laughter stopped instantly. Tyler grabbed my arm, his face pale with shock. “Hannah! Are you out of your mind?!” He smacked the broken bottle from my hand, his finger digging into my forehead. “Get the hell out of here. Now!” Before I could move, Emma threw herself between us. “Tyler! Stop speaking to her like that!” I let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “Emma, don’t bother. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.” What happened next made my heart freeze. Emma, in her pristine white wedding gown, dropped to her knees on the floor—right onto the wet stone and shattered glass. The lace of her dress soaked up the spilled champagne and dirt. The sharp glass cut through her fabric, and small pools of blood began to bloom beneath her knees. She grabbed my legs, looking up at me with tears streaming down her face. “Hannah, please. Don’t leave me. I’m begging you.” I stared down at the woman kneeling at my feet. This was my best friend of ten years. She knew every detail of my life, she checked on my heart condition weekly, she loved me unconditionally—yet here she was, utterly broken, kneeling in glass. At the end of the hall, guests were craned forward, watching. Dustin stood back, arms crossed, a smug smile on his face, while Tyler looked down at us with pure disgust. I looked toward the stage doors. My voice was completely hollow. “Let’s get this over with.” I pulled Emma up, brushing the tears from her cheeks. A coordinator handed me a dry, oversized sweater to put over my wet dress, but the neck was suffocatingly tight. I didn’t care. I just wanted the ceremony to end. During the processional, the music played, and the minister spoke, but my ears were ringing. I stood on the left side of the altar with Emma; Tyler and Dustin stood on the right. Across the aisle, Dustin’s eyes remained locked on me, heavy with silent promises. The ceremony blurred by—the vows, the rings, the family blessings. Emma kept her head bowed the entire time. Finally, the minister announced: “You may now kiss the bride.” Tyler lifted Emma’s veil, grabbed her face, and kissed her. But as the crowd clapped, a heavy hand grabbed the back of my head, violently pulling me to the right. It was Dustin. He forced his mouth onto mine. He smelled of tobacco and stale beer, and his teeth cut deep into my lip. The crowd gasped, then started cheering and taking photos. I bit down. Hard. I bit his bottom lip until the copper taste of his blood filled my mouth. He groaned, but instead of releasing me, his grip on my neck tightened. He whispered against my bleeding lips, “You little bitch. I’m taking you home tonight whether you like it or not.” When he finally let go, blood was dripping down his chin onto his white collar. The crowd’s cheers turned to angry murmurs. “What is wrong with that bridesmaid?” “Ruining her friend’s moment… what a whore.” “Desperate for attention, clearly.” Emma stood beside Tyler, shaking violently, tears spilling over. Tyler kept his hand locked tightly on her waist, holding her in place like a captured bird. The minister tried to regain control of the room. “Alright, let’s keep the energy positive for our happy couple—” The microphone screeched as Dustin grabbed it. He bent down, scooped me up in his arms before I could react, and turned to the crowd. “In my family, we have a tradition! The best man carries the bridesmaid to the bridal suite first to clear out any bad luck for the newlyweds!” The room was silent for a second before Tyler’s mother started clapping. “Yes! That’s a wonderful tradition! It’s very lucky!” Following her lead, Tyler’s family joined in, laughing and cheering. Dustin looked down at me. “Hear that, babe? It’s tradition. Everyone’s blessing us.” He began carrying me toward the side doors. As we passed Emma, I struggled to lift my head, looking her dead in the eye. “Are you going to watch him assault me?” Emma looked as if she had been struck by lightning. She violently wrenched herself out of Tyler’s grip. Tyler grabbed her arm. “Emma! What do you think you’re doing?” Emma tore herself away, ripped the sparkling tiara from her hair, and hurled it onto the stage floor. “Get away from me!” she screamed. “The wedding is off! Tyler, you and your family are disgusting monsters!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “544691”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Since I was a child, I had always believed there was nothing in this world I couldn’t have. Because my parents had me when they were over forty, they spoiled me to the point where they would have plucked the stars from the sky for me if they could. At twenty, I fell head over heels for Julian Vance, a needy student funded by the Stone family, and used every means at my disposal to force him to marry me. Only after we married did I learn that he had someone he had loved in secret for years—the one who got away. Vivian Locke. His childhood sweetheart, a brilliantly talented design major who came from a poor background. I looked at the photos sent by the private investigator on my phone. They were sharing a passionate kiss in a rose garden. This tainted man… I didn’t want him anymore. Sienna’s POV So, I started targeting Vivian Locke. First, I reported Vivian’s studio for fire hazards, forcing it to shut down. Next, I bribed members of the media to run sensationalized stories about Vivian having a child out of wedlock and having loose morals. Finally, I even paid someone to forge evidence of Vivian plagiarizing overseas works, completely ruining her reputation in the industry. Julian Vance finally reached his breaking point. That day, I was arranging flowers in the living room, my shears snipping off a white rose. When he found me, he slapped the flowers right out of my hands. “Just how far are you going to take this?” he roared, furious. “What did Vivian ever do wrong? How did she offend you to make you target her like this? If you’ve got a problem, come at me!” I looked up and said nonchalantly, “Vivian Locke did nothing wrong. You are the one in the wrong.” His expression turned icy cold as he stared at me. “Julian Vance, let’s get one thing straight: I am your wife,” I said, putting down the shears, my tone lukewarm. “Yet in all the years we’ve been married, Vivian Locke has always been the only one in your heart. Do you even respect me as your lawful wife?” With a cold smile, I added, “So you’re the one at fault, Julian. You’re the one who forced my hand to target her.” Julian’s features tensed, his eyes dark and gloomy. “Do you have to be like this?” “Yes,” I said, tilting my chin up. “Julian, don’t forget that it was thanks to the Stone family that you got to where you are today. Your body, your heart, even your life belongs to me. So as long as Vivian Locke remains in your heart, I will never let her off the hook.” No sooner had the words left my mouth than Julian grabbed the fruit knife off the coffee table and plunged it into his own chest without a second thought. Blood quickly soaked through his shirt. His face paled at a visible rate as he asked in a raspy voice, “Then I’ll give you my life. Is that enough?” I froze in place. Seeing me remain silent, Julian pulled the knife out, preparing to stab himself a second time. Finally snapping back to reality, I lunged forward in a panic to press down on his wound, my eyes reddening as I glared at him in disbelief. “Are you insane?!” Cold sweat quickly beaded on Julian’s deathly pale face. Forcing himself through the excruciating pain, he said, “Didn’t you say… that without the Stone family, I wouldn’t be where I am today? That everything I have, including my life, belongs to you? Then I’m giving you my life… Is this… enough now…?” Warm blood gushed through my trembling fingers. Once Julian finished speaking, his vision suddenly went black, and he collapsed backward, losing consciousness. “Julian!!” I scrambled to catch him, but his weight dragged me down with him. The moment we hit the floor, I instinctively shielded him with my own body. My back slammed against the edge of the coffee table, sending stars dancing across my vision from the pain. Yet even as I gasped in agony, I didn’t push away the man lying on top of me. “Someone, help!” I screamed in sheer panic. “Call an ambulance!” The fluorescent lights in the hospital corridor were blindingly bright. The red light above the operating room had been glowing for two full hours. Julian’s mother, Mary, rushed over after hearing the news and slapped me right across the face. “Sienna Stone, I know your family funded Julian in the past, but he has never left you wanting for anything material all these years! Just how much longer do you plan on torturing him like this?!” Mary’s voice was so shrill it cracked. “Do you have to drive him to his grave before you’ll finally stop?!” My face was whipped to the side, a burning pain spreading across my cheek. I didn’t reach up to nurse it, nor did I offer any defense. Instead, I just stared down at my blood-stained hands. I couldn’t understand. How did things turn out like this? In the beginning, all I wanted was for him to spare me a glance, to care about me just a little bit more. Throughout our seven years of marriage, whenever I fell ill with a fever, he would bring in the best specialists in the city for a consultation, yet he never set foot in my room from start to finish. For every anniversary, the gifts he had his assistant deliver were always the latest designer jewelry, but not a single one had ever passed through his own hands. When we sat at the same dinner table, he would not say a single word throughout the meal, getting up to leave the moment he finished eating. I used to always tell myself that it was fine. As long as I treated him well enough and loved him enough, he would fall in love with me sooner or later. I had plenty of patience and time. Yet two years ago, Vivian Locke suddenly returned from abroad with a five-or-six-year-old child. That was the first time Julian ever lost his composure. He rushed out the door without even putting on his coat after receiving a call. I followed from a distance and saw with my own eyes as he held that frail woman tightly in his arms at the airport exit. After returning home that night, I smashed the entire living room in a fit of rage. When Julian returned and saw the mess all over the floor, he merely instructed the servants indifferently, “Clean it up.” Without so much as a glance at my hysterical self, he went upstairs and retired to his room. Later, when Vivian wanted a studio, he funded and helped her establish one. When Vivian’s child fell ill, he drove them to the hospital in the middle of the night and stayed by the bedside until morning. He even baked a cake with his own hands to deliver to her on her birthday. I saw all of this with my own eyes, which was why I started targeting Vivian Locke. I couldn’t comprehend it. I had the money, the looks, and I loved him deeply. In what way could I possibly be inferior to a woman like Vivian Locke, who had a child out of wedlock? Why could he be so incredibly good to Vivian, yet be so stingy that he wouldn’t even spare me a second glance? Until today— Seeing him go as far as stabbing himself with a knife, I suddenly understood. Perhaps I had been wrong from the very beginning. I thought feelings could be nurtured over time. I thought that as long as I was good enough, persistent enough, and loved him enough, I could eventually win over his heart. But some hearts simply can’t be warmed. Love is something where your investment never guarantees a return. “Fine,” I heard my own voice say, so calm that even I found it unfamiliar. “I will let him go.” His mother froze, as if she hadn’t heard me clearly. “What did you say?” I raised my head and repeated, “Just as you wish, I will divorce Julian Vance.” This marriage was forced by me in the first place anyway. So, the ones in the wrong were never Vivian Locke or Julian Vance. It was me. Then, I shall set him free.

Sienna’s POV Having said my piece, I turned and walked away without looking back to see Mary’s expression. Yet just as I rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, I saw Vivian Locke walking toward me. The moment she saw me, Vivian paused mid-step, a clear look of awkwardness and anxiety flitting across her face. “Ms. Stone… I heard Julian was hurt and is in surgery…” Vivian said cautiously. “I only wanted to come and check on him. If you mind, I’ll go back right now.” In the past, I would have told her to get lost and banned her from taking a single step near Julian. But now, I simply brushed past Vivian, my voice as faint as a breeze. “There’s no need. You stay and take good care of him.” Vivian stood frozen on the spot, seemingly unable to believe her own ears. By the time I stepped out of the hospital entrance, the sky outside had turned pitch black. I didn’t call the driver to pick me up, nor did I hail a taxi. I just walked aimlessly along the street. I recalled the summer I first met Julian Vance. Back then, I had just turned twenty. I went with my dad to attend the commendation ceremony for needy students funded by the Stone family. The youth on the stage wore a faded white shirt. His posture was as straight as a pine tree, his features cold and aloof like the snow atop a mountain peak. With just one look, I was hopelessly smitten. I began to pursue him like crazy. Yet when I sent him gifts, he returned them; when I invited him to dinner, he declined; when I blocked his path downstairs at his dorm to confess, he took a detour. Since childhood, I had believed there was nothing in this world I couldn’t have. So I was never discouraged. I used my connections to find out that his mother was sick and urgently needed a massive sum of money for surgery. And so, I had my father step in to tell him that if he married me, the Stone family would cover all medical expenses, fund his remaining studies, and provide him with the best platform for his career. He remained silent for three whole days. On the fourth day, he showed up in the living room of the Stone residence and said to me, “I agree to the marriage.” There was no proposal, no ring, and not a single word of affection. Yet back then, I was happy as a fool, believing that as long as we were married, everything would turn out fine. Over all these years, I truly did love him. I loved him so much that I couldn’t extricate myself, loved him so much that I forgot who I was, and loved him so much that I turned my own life into a laughingstock. But no matter how much I loved him, it was time to let go. I didn’t know how long I had been walking, but by the time I snapped out of it, I was standing before the gates of the Stone family villa. The lights in the living room were still on. I pushed the door open and walked in. My parents were talking, and when they saw me standing at the door looking such a disheveled mess, both of them stood up in shock. “Sienna? What on earth happened to you…” My mother quickly approached, and the moment she spotted the slap mark on my face, her voice cracked. “Who hit you? Where is Julian? Why isn’t he looking after you?” My father also stood up with a dark expression. “I’ll call him right now!” “There’s no need,” I stopped my father. “Dad, Mom, I’m getting a divorce.” The living room fell into sudden silence. My mother was the first to react, her eyes instantly turning red. “Your father and I have seen all the grievances you’ve suffered in the Vance family these past years. We wanted to ask you to come home, but we were afraid you wouldn’t be able to let Julian go, and that you wouldn’t be happy even if you did return…” My father remained silent for a long time before he finally asked, “Have you truly made up your mind?” “Yes.” “Then divorce him,” my father said, patting my shoulder. “My precious girl deserves the absolute best in this world. Since Julian is too blind to see your worth, let him regret it in the future!” My nose stung, and tears nearly spilled from my eyes. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted documents spread out on the coffee table. I bent down to pick them up and flipped through them. They were the company’s quarterly reports and several cooperation agreements. The further down I read, the colder my fingers grew. Several core projects had been snatched away, the cash flow was visibly strained, and one of the agreements was a letter of intent for cooperation with the Vance Group, with terms so harsh they bordered on extortion. I said in disbelief, “Julian is deliberately making things difficult for the Stone family’s company?” “It’s nothing,” my father smiled, feigning a lighthearted tone. “It’s just a small matter. Your dad can handle it.” But those dense rows of numbers and clauses pricked at my eyes like needles. When we got married, Julian was still a penniless, needy student. Everyone said he was marrying above his station. Later, when he graduated, instead of utilizing the platform the Stone family had paved for him, he chose to start from scratch and build his own business. Fearing they would hurt his pride, my parents had spent all these years quietly aiding his business behind the scenes. Now that the Vance Group was flourishing and his wings had grown strong, he had turned around to devour the Stone family’s businesses. Yet my parents hadn’t breathed a single word of this to me. I didn’t need to think twice to know why. My parents didn’t want to put me in a difficult position in the middle. After all, everyone knew how deeply infatuated I was with Julian. Looking at the gray hair at my father’s temples and the fine lines around my mother’s eyes, I could see they silently spoke of all the storms they had weathered on my behalf over the years. My eyes burned with tears, and my throat tightened with emotion. “Dad, Mom, I’m sorry. I was too foolish and immature in the past.” My mother embraced me. “It’s fine. None of that matters. The only wish your father and I have is for you to be happy and healthy forever.” My eyes grew even redder. “Dad, Mom, once I divorce Julian, let’s move to a different city.” This city with Julian is just too awful. I don’t want to stay here anymore. My father hesitated for less than three seconds before nodding with determination. “Alright! Once you get divorced, wherever you want to go, the three of us will go!” Two days later, news came that Julian had been transferred to a general ward. I took the drafted divorce agreement and headed to the hospital.

Sienna’s POV Walking to the door of the ward, I peered through the cracked opening. Vivian Locke was sitting by the bedside, holding sliced apples and feeding them to Julian piece by piece. He leaned against the headboard, and though his face was still a bit pale, he showed no resistance whatsoever, even slightly leaning forward to cooperate whenever she offered a slice. My fingers clenched instinctively. I remembered how every single time I tried to get close to him—even if it was just to adjust his collar—he would subtly shift away to avoid me. As it turned out, it wasn’t that he disliked being touched; he just disliked being touched by me. Whether someone loves you or not is truly painfully obvious. Just as I was about to knock, Vivian spotted me first and stood up in a flurry. “Ms. Stone, you’re here…” Vivian said, looking rather awkward. “I’ll let you two talk. I’ll go ask the doctor about Julian’s condition.” Vivian turned to leave, but Julian reached out and caught her by the wrist. “Didn’t the doctor just make his rounds not too long ago?” he said in a flat tone. “There’s no need to make up excuses to avoid anyone. This is a hospital, not the Stone family’s territory.” Vivian cast a hesitant look at me. “But…” “No buts,” Julian interrupted. “Just sit down.” Vivian hesitated for a moment but ultimately sat back down. “Okay.” My eyes fell upon Julian’s hand holding Vivian’s wrist. Those distinct knuckles and long, powerful fingers had never once held me that way. In the past, I probably would have rushed in, flung that hand away, and slapped Vivian Locke across the face. But this time, I didn’t. I didn’t even make a scene. “What are you doing here?” Julian finally cast his cold gaze toward me, his tone indifferent. “If you think I’m not hurt badly enough, I can do it again.” Stung by his words, I couldn’t help but ask, “Would you really rather harm yourself like that than spare me a proper glance?” Julian’s reply was heartless and cold. “I thought you were well aware before we got married that I didn’t love you.” He paused, then added, “I didn’t love you then, I don’t love you now, and I never will. So, how do you expect me to spare you a glance?” I clenched my fingers. “Since you believed you could never fall in love with me, why did you marry me in the first place?” Julian laughed, his chuckle exceptionally cold. “My mother was critically ill back then and urgently needed a massive sum of money for surgery. You used that moment to force me into marriage. Did I have a choice?” Just as I was about to speak, he continued. “Besides, on the eve of our wedding, it wasn’t as if I didn’t try to have a proper talk with you. “Back then, I told you I didn’t love you. I told you that you wouldn’t be happy marrying me, and that it wasn’t too late to back out if you regretted it. I said I’d treat that surgery money as a loan and pay you back with interest later.” 　　His gaze was as cold as frost. 　　”But how did you answer me then? You said if I dared to back out, you’d immediately withdraw the funds and stop the surgery. You used my mother’s life to threaten me. Did I have a choice back then?” 　　I was left speechless. 　　I did indeed say those words. 　　At the time, I was so swept up in the joy of marrying him, terrified that he would back out and that the grand wedding I had meticulously planned would fall through, which was why I said it. 　　I never imagined that those words would remain carved into his heart for seven years. 　　Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, pulled a document out of my bag, and placed it on the nightstand beside his hospital bed. 　　”Then please do me a favor and sign this divorce agreement.” 　　Catching sight of the document, a flash of poorly concealed joy lit up Vivian’s eyes. 　　As for Julian Vance, he froze. 　　He glanced at the agreement, then looked up at me. “You want a divorce?” 　　”Yes.” 　　Julian scoffed instinctively. “Do you think I was injured so badly this time that I’ve lost my mind? Or are you being foolish enough to think I’d believe such nonsense about you wanting a divorce?” 　　He stared at me with sharp eyes. “We’ve been married for seven years, and you couldn’t bring yourself to divorce me. Just because I stabbed myself twice, you’re suddenly willing to let me go?” 　　For the past seven years, he had used the cold shoulder and silent treatment to push me away, hoping I would reach my breaking point and ask for a divorce first. 　　Yet I had stubbornly endured it all, never bringing it up once. 　　Now that he had resorted to self-harm and stabbed himself twice, I was suddenly willing to walk away. It was only natural that he didn’t believe me. 　　”I’m willing to divorce because I realize you were right,” I said calmly. “A forced marriage won’t bring happiness.” 　　Hearing this, Julian suddenly went still. 　　I smiled bitterly to myself. When he had said those words all those years ago, how had I responded? 　　I had arrogantly declared, “Who cares about happiness? Let’s get married first and figure that out later.” 　　I had also said, “Even death won’t tear us apart. Don’t even dream of divorcing me or shaking me off in this lifetime.” 　　But now, I knew a forced marriage wouldn’t bring happiness. 　　And I was going to divorce him. 　　I saw a flicker of a strange emotion pass through Julian’s eyes. 　　

Sienna Stone’s POV 　　 Julian quickly snapped out of it. 　　He grabbed the divorce agreement and, without even glancing at the contents, flipped straight to the last page and signed his name in a sweeping scrawl. 　　He then tossed the agreement in front of me, a mocking curl on his lips. “Ms. Stone has always been a woman of her word. You’d better actually go through with this divorce, unless you want people to look down on you.” 　　I bent down to pick up the paper. My fingertips lingered over his signature for a brief second before I smiled bitterly. “Don’t worry. I always mean what I say.” 　　Yes, I always meant what I said. 　　Julian sneered. He probably thought I was just putting on an act. 　　”Get some rest and recover from your injuries.” 　　Without another look at him, I turned and left the hospital room. 　　By the time Vivian ran out after me, I was already waiting for the elevator. 　　”Ms. Stone,” Vivian called out, catching up with quick, graceful steps. Her voice was gentle and polite. “Please don’t worry. I’ve already spoken with the doctor. Julian’s injuries aren’t serious. He just needs some time to recover.” 　　I stared at her in silence, saying nothing. 　　Seeming a bit unsettled by my gaze, Vivian continued, “Julian… he was just acting on impulse when he did something so extreme. Please don’t be angry with him. Getting a divorce over a minor disagreement like this really isn’t worth it.” 　　I suddenly smiled. “Did you really run out here just to convince me not to divorce him?” 　　Vivian froze. 　　”In reality, you just wanted to make sure if I’m actually divorcing him, or if I’m just playing another trick, right?” I looked at her with a half-smile. 　　Vivian’s face stiffened slightly, and she forced a smile. “Ms. Stone, I don’t know what you’re talking about… I truly don’t want you two to get a divorce out of anger, only for you to regret it later.” 　　”It’s just the two of us here, so why keep playing pretend?” I scoffed. “You want me to divorce him more than anyone else, just so he can be the step-father and play dad to your child.” 　　Vivian’s face froze completely, too embarrassed to utter a word. 　　I didn’t feel like listening to any more of it. 　　The elevator doors opened, and I walked right in, pressing the close button. 　　Vivian stood where she was, watching the elevator doors slowly close as her gentle expression crumbled bit by bit. 　　After handing the divorce agreement over to my lawyer, I spent the next few days finalizing the immigration paperwork for myself and my parents. 　　I didn’t visit Julian in the hospital again, nor did I make a single phone call or send a single text. 　　A week later, Mary sent me a message. 　　”Julian is being discharged today. As his wife, you didn’t even bother to show up. How does that look?” 　　I glanced at it but didn’t reply. 　　Over the years of our marriage, I had heard far too many accusations like this. 　　”You’ve been married for so long, yet there’s still no sign of a baby. What kind of wife are you?” 　　”You can’t even hold onto your own husband’s heart. For a woman, you really are a failure.” 　　In the past, hearing Mary say these things would make me sad and aggrieved, tossing and turning in the middle of the night, wondering if I truly wasn’t good enough. 　　But now, I realized I didn’t care at all anymore. 　　I recalled the absurd things I had done over the years just to make Julian love me and to have a child of our own. 　　I had worn the sexiest lingerie, parading in front of him, only for him to turn a blind eye. 　　When he was working in the study, I would bring in a glass of red wine, pretending to accidentally fall into his lap, only to be pushed away instantly. 　　I had sneaked into his bed in the middle of the night, only for him to pick me up and throw me out of the room. 　　He was like an iceberg, always shutting me out with a cold face. 　　The only two times we slept together were when he was completely drunk after business dinners, giving me an opportunity to take advantage of the situation. 　　Afterward, he only felt I was underhanded, growing even more distant from me. 　　We were husband and wife, yet sleeping together required him to be drunk. 　　I closed my eyes, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of my lips. 　　All these years, my love for him had truly humbled me to the dust. 　　But from now on, no more.

Sienna Stone’s POV The next time I saw Julian was at a business gala three days later. 　　I hadn’t originally wanted to attend. 　　But my father was getting old, and this business gathering was hard to decline, so I had no choice but to represent the Stone family. 　　Amid the clinking of glasses and social chatter, I mingled with the guests, a glass of wine in hand and a polite smile plastered on my face. 　　Until the doors of the banquet hall opened once again. 　　Julian walked in. 　　He wore a dark suit, his complexion having returned to normal after his recovery. In his arms, he held a five or six-year-old boy, with Vivian walking by his side. 　　The three of them stood together, looking exactly like a family of three. 　　My fingers tightened around my wine glass. 　　”Mr. Vance!” 　　Someone who didn’t recognize me stepped forward, clearly mistaking Vivian for Mrs. Vance, and flattered them with a smile. “This must be Mrs. Vance! Mr. and Mrs. Vance really are a perfect match. Your relationship is truly enviable.” 　　Vivian looked surprised and waved her hands in denial, but she didn’t actually open her mouth to clarify. 　　Nor did Julian correct the misunderstanding. 　　Instead, he took the opportunity to introduce her. “This is Vivian Locke, a highly talented jewelry designer who has her own independent studio. Although her brand isn’t widely known yet, her designs are quite popular among young people. If you ever have a need in the future, you can reach out to her.” 　　Understanding the hint immediately, the guest smiled and began flattering Vivian. 　　Standing not far away, I took all of this in. 　　I saw through it instantly. 　　Julian had brought Vivian here to network. 　　He was paving the way for her career. 　　I remembered how, many years ago, when Julian’s career was just starting, I had used the Stone family’s name to network and build connections for him everywhere. 　　For my sake, my parents had also helped him immensely behind the scenes. 　　Yet in the end, once he succeeded, he turned around and imposed harsh terms on his business dealings with the Stone family, clearly giving my parents a hard time because of me. 　　And now, he was bringing another woman to build bridges for her career. 　　I withdrew my gaze and took a sip of my wine. 　　I suddenly felt that the love I had desperately clung to for so many years was nothing but a joke. 　　Refusing to look in their direction again, I turned and resumed my conversations with other guests. 　　Halfway through the gala, having finally finished my rounds of socializing, I wanted to find a quiet corner to sit down and rest my feet. 　　But the moment I turned around, I bumped unexpectedly into a firm chest. 　　Julian had approached behind me at some point. 　　I frowned, looking up at him. “Is there something you need?” 　　My cold tone made Julian’s brow furrow. 　　He fell silent for two seconds before speaking. “Vivian’s studio has just started. She needs resources and connections. Since I have the ability to give her a leg up, I brought her here. Don’t target her over this.” 　　Hearing this, I understood completely. 　　So he was afraid I would pick on Vivian again out of jealousy. 　　I gave a faint reply. “Who you choose to network with is your business. I don’t care.” 　　After all, we would be divorced soon anyway. 　　However, Julian’s frown deepened. 　　”Though,” I paused, then added, “since you’ve approached me, I happen to have something to ask you as well.” 　　”What is it?” 　　”Regarding your cooperation with the Stone family, can you change the terms?” I asked solemnly and earnestly. “I won’t target Vivian anymore, so can you stop giving my parents a hard time because of our personal grievances? Stone Corporation isn’t what it used to be, and they are getting old. They don’t have the energy to deal with unnecessary business troubles.” 　　Julian fell silent for a moment. 　　The reason he had targeted the Stone family’s company before was indeed because I had repeatedly gone after Vivian, prompting him to strike back. 　　Since I was promising not to cause trouble for Vivian anymore, he naturally wouldn’t make things difficult for the Stone family. 　　Moreover, the Stone family had supported him in the past, and he was not an ungrateful man. 　　”I see,” Julian said. “I’ll have the terms of the agreement modified and sent over to Stone Corporation.” 　　”Alright.” 　　I gave a brief nod and turned to leave. 　　”Wait.” 　　Julian suddenly called out to stop me. 　　I stopped and looked back at him. 　　”Why is there such a large bruise on your back?” He frowned. “When did you get hurt?” 　　I froze. 　　How rare. 　　Throughout all our years of marriage, when I once ran a high fever for days and was completely out of it, he had merely called a doctor for me and then ignored me, never offering a single word of concern. 　　Now that I had decided on a divorce, he was miraculously showing concern over a little bruise. 　　Was this some sort of pity care he was handing out? 　　Just as I was about to say something, Vivian suddenly ran over in a panic. “Julian! This is bad, Ethan is gone!”

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I had been married to Julian Sterling for years, but the Sterling family kept our marriage buried in the dark. It wasn’t until his live broadcast today, when he calmly told the world, “I am not secretly married, and I do not have a daughter”—that our little girl, Lily, clutched her stuffed rabbit and asked me what she was to him. That very night, I packed my bags. Robert Sterling, the patriarch who had welcomed me into the family years ago, gave me a handwritten statement. Outside the gates, Carter Hayes was waiting for me in his car. He said, “Lily is not a child anyone has the right to disown.” As I walked out of the Sterling estate, the heavy security gates clicked shut behind me. The wheels of my suitcase rolled over the cobblestones. My daughter fell asleep in her car seat, clutching a chipped wooden bead, her little brow still furrowed in her dreams. Later, everyone said I was crazy—that I was throwing away my status as Mrs. Sterling to rebuild my career from scratch. But they didn’t know that what truly brought me back to life wasn’t another marriage. It was the fact that I finally dared to say “no.” As I placed my hands back on the piano keys, I knew the path ahead was mine to make. This time, I didn’t need anyone’s protection. I only needed myself. **Chapter 1** **Madelyn’s POV** On the giant TV screen, Julian Sterling was holding a live press conference. A reporter held up a blurry photo, demanding to know if the heir to the Sterling empire had secretly married and had a child years ago. Dressed in a sharp, dark suit and wearing gold-rimmed glasses, Julian looked incredibly cold. He simply said, “I am not secretly married, and I do not have a daughter.” Sitting on the rug, Lily looked up at me, her eyes filled with confusion. The man on the screen continued. “I have been single all these years. The rumors out there are completely baseless. They’re affecting my family and my company, and I want them to stop immediately.” He spoke of his “family,” but he didn’t include us. Standing by the sofa, my hands clenched into tight fists. Julian and I had been married for years, but the Sterlings had kept our marriage strictly confidential. Julian’s grandfather, Robert, had claimed that the company’s IPO, stock options, and strategic alliances were too complicated. He told me to wait for the right time to go public. I was young back then. I thought as long as Julian loved me, nothing else mattered. Later, when Lily was born, Julian bought her beautiful little jewelry pieces, but he still refused to let her appear at any public Sterling events. When the other kids at preschool asked Lily about her dad, she could only tell them that her daddy was very busy. I had swallowed my pride so many times. But this time, Lily heard it with her own ears. Clutching her stuffed rabbit, her eyes slowly filled with tears. “Mommy, Daddy said he doesn’t have a daughter. Then… what am I?” I knelt down and pulled her tightly into my arms. I wanted to tell her that her dad was just doing it for work. I wanted to tell her that the adult world was complicated. But as those words reached my lips, they felt disgusting. I couldn’t lie for Julian Sterling anymore. My phone buzzed on the coffee table. It was a message from Carter Hayes. He said he had canceled the arranged marriage his family had set up for him, and he had already transferred his future child’s trust fund into Lily’s name. The next text read: “If you’re ready to leave, I’ll come get you. Lily is not a child anyone has the right to disown.” Looking at those words, my eyes finally overflowed with tears. On the screen, Julian stood up and left the stage, his bodyguards blocking the swarming reporters. From beginning to end, he didn’t show a hint of guilt. He looked as if he had just shut down a minor corporate rumor. Lily buried her face in my shoulder and whispered, “Mommy, are we not allowed to tell anyone he’s my daddy anymore?” I stroked her soft hair, making up my mind. “You don’t have to tell anyone anymore,” I whispered. “If he doesn’t want to be your dad, he doesn’t get to be.” Lily didn’t fully understand, but she hugged me tighter. I looked back at the screen. The broadcast had switched back to financial commentators, who were praising Julian for his decisive crisis management. I suddenly found it incredibly absurd. The world always praised men for being cool-headed and rational, but nobody cared about the little girl crying in the living room because she had just been sacrificed for his PR. That night, I didn’t wait up for Julian. I turned off the TV, carried Lily upstairs, and for the first time, began packing our things to leave the Sterling mansion. Before entering the bedroom, I glanced at the family portrait hanging on the hallway wall. It was taken when Lily was one. The photographer had spent an hour coaxing Julian just to get him to sit next to us. In the photo, I was smiling softly with our daughter in my arms, while Julian looked like a stranger who had been forced into the frame, his shoulder keeping a distinct distance from mine. Back then, I excused it by telling myself he just wasn’t comfortable in front of cameras. Looking at it now, it felt like a warning from fate. I took the photo out of the frame. I didn’t rip it, nor did I smash it. I simply folded the half containing Lily and me, putting it in my bag. Julian’s half was left behind. I had to admit the painful truth: some pictures were never meant to have three people in them. I was just trying too hard to force a perfect family. Near the bottom of the drawer, I found a stack of unmailed birthday invitations. They were custom-made for Lily’s upcoming birthday. I had picked them out myself, hoping Julian would finally let us have a small dinner with close friends. But he had said the timing wasn’t right, so I locked them away. They had been sitting there for years. The edges of the paper had turned yellow, just like my repeatedly crushed expectations. I threw the invitations straight into the trash bag without a second thought. A child’s existence shouldn’t have to be validated by an invitation that was never allowed to be sent. **Chapter 2** **Madelyn’s POV** Halfway through packing, I realized that despite living in the Sterling mansion for so long, I owned almost nothing. The walk-in closet was filled with designer clothes Julian had ordered for me, the jewelry box held pieces handpicked by his mother, and even my credit cards were just secondary accounts linked to Julian’s black card. Those things were ridiculously expensive, but I didn’t want a single one of them. I only took our legal documents, a few casual clothes, Lily’s favorite storybooks, and the stuffed rabbit she slept with every night. Lily sat on the bed, her eyes still red, hugging her rabbit. “Mommy, are we going to Grandma’s house?” “We’re going to a safe place first, sweetheart.” I placed a book into the suitcase. “Grandma isn’t feeling well. Mommy needs to sort things out first, and then I’ll take you to see her.” “Will Daddy come find us?” My hands froze. If I had heard that question in the past, my heart would have softened. I would have told myself that Julian was just emotionally detached, that he just wasn’t used to showing affection. After all, he would bring back gifts from his business trips, and he had stayed up all night by her bed when she had a high fever. I used to use those tiny details to justify his coldness over and over again, until I almost believed my own lies. But a father can be quiet; he cannot publicly disown his child in front of millions of viewers. I zipped the suitcase and sat next to Lily. “If he wants to come find us, he has to learn how to apologize first.” Lily whispered, “But Daddy doesn’t like to apologize.” The words of a child are always the simplest, yet they cut the deepest. I hugged her tight. “Then we’ll let him learn slowly. We aren’t waiting around for him anymore.” Downstairs, I heard the maids moving around. Someone must have seen me packing and called Julian. I wasn’t surprised. Everyone in this house treated me with polite respect, but they all knew Julian was the only master who mattered. I was allowed to live here and be called Mrs. Sterling, but I had absolutely no say in where my daughter and I went. I pulled out my phone and messaged Carter. “I want to leave, but don’t come directly to the Sterling estate. Help me get a lawyer first.” Carter replied instantly. “The lawyer is already on his way. The car is ready too. Just give the word, and I’ll get you out.” Looking at the screen, my throat tightened. Carter Hayes was my best friend when we were teenagers. Our families used to be very close. After my father passed away, Carter was the one who helped me get through those dark days. Later, he went abroad, his family didn’t want us getting too close, and Robert took me into the Sterling home. We eventually drifted apart. I never expected that after all these years, the first person to step up and catch Lily and me would be him. A soft knock came at the door, and the butler’s polite voice sounded from outside. “Ma’am, Mr. Sterling is on his way back. He asks that you do not go to sleep yet.” I looked at my suitcase, knowing tonight wouldn’t be easy. I tucked Lily back into bed and whispered, “No matter what you hear later, don’t be scared. Mommy is right here.” Lily nodded obediently. I stood up and opened the door. The hallway lights were blindingly bright, but for the first time, I didn’t retreat back into the shadows. The butler stood there with his usual respectful face, but his words carried a clear warning. He said Mr. Sterling had instructed that since I was emotionally unstable these days, it would be best if I didn’t leave the house. I suddenly remembered how every time I wanted to make Lily’s existence public, the Sterling family would claim I was being too impatient, too sensitive, and unable to see the bigger picture. It turned out that whenever I tried to stand up for myself and my child, I was labeled “unstable.” I didn’t argue with the butler in the hallway. I simply told him to bring Lily’s passport and birth certificate to my room first thing in the morning. When he hesitated, I unlocked my phone, opened the voice recorder app, and calmly repeated my request. Seeing my phone, the butler’s expression shifted. For the first time, I realized I didn’t have to cry and beg Julian for permission anymore. I could record everything, consult a lawyer, and document every single attempt they made to restrict my freedom. Back in the room, Lily was still awake. She was lying on her pillow, trying to cover her stuffed rabbit’s ears with her hands, saying that way the rabbit wouldn’t hear that Daddy didn’t want her. My heart ached terribly, but I didn’t try to comfort her with lies like “Daddy didn’t mean it.” I sat on the edge of the bed and told Lily that if someone said hurtful words, it was okay to feel hurt, and crying didn’t make her a bad girl. Hearing this, Lily’s tears poured down, and she finally let herself sob out loud. At that moment, I realized what children needed wasn’t a fake, polished fairytale. They needed someone to acknowledge that their pain was real. **Chapter 3** **Madelyn’s POV** It was very late when Julian finally got home. The scent of rain clung to his dark coat, and his face was even colder than it had been on the broadcast. The butler followed behind him, barely daring to breathe. I stood on the second-floor landing, watching the man I had loved for so long walk up the stairs. He looked just as much of a stranger as he did on the television screen. “Are you packing?” he asked. I didn’t deny it. “I’m taking Lily and leaving.” Julian’s brows drew together. “Because of the press conference?” “Because you told the world you don’t have a daughter.” Julian took off his glasses, his tone carrying a trace of suppressed impatience. “That was just for the media. You know the Sterling Group is in the middle of a major merger. Seraphina Vance just got divorced, and every tabloid in the city is watching me. Letting the public know about a secret marriage and a child right now wouldn’t benefit anyone.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Does it benefit Lily?” He paused for a fraction of a second. “She’s too young to understand any of this.” “She understands that her father publicly disowned her.” Julian’s expression hardened. “Madelyn, don’t use our daughter to throw a tantrum.” Those words extinguished the very last spark of warmth in my heart. I realized Julian didn’t think he had done anything wrong at all. He just thought I was overreacting, being dramatic, and making his life difficult at an inconvenient time. “I am not throwing a tantrum,” I said. “My lawyer will contact you. We’ll handle the divorce and Lily’s custody through legal channels.” Julian looked at me as if I had just said something hilarious. “Divorce?” He stepped closer, towering over me. “Think carefully, Madelyn. Without the Sterling family, you and Lily are nothing.” I let out a soft laugh. “And what are we while staying in this house?” Julian was completely silenced by my question. At the end of the hallway, Lily stood by her bedroom door clutching her rabbit, her eyes wide with fear. She didn’t understand what divorce meant, but she understood her father saying we were nothing. Seeing our daughter, Julian’s face finally showed a brief flash of guilt. “Lily, go back to your room.” Lily didn’t move. She just whispered, “Daddy… am I not allowed to call you Daddy anymore?” Julian’s throat bobbed. Right then, his phone rang. Seraphina Vance’s name flashed across the screen. I saw it, and so did Lily. Julian hesitated for a brief second before answering. The woman on the other end sounded like she had been crying. Her voice was soft and fragile, saying her ex-husband was blocking her car outside the club, and she didn’t know who else to call. Julian frowned. “Stay inside. I’m on my way.” I watched him quietly. A child who had just been disowned by her father was standing right in front of him, yet he was rushing off to save another woman’s reputation. It wasn’t a life-or-death emergency; it was just a rich girl’s social embarrassment. Julian hung up and looked at the butler. “Watch her and Lily. Nobody leaves this house tonight.” Then, he turned to me. “We’ll talk when I get back.” I didn’t try to stop him. I simply picked up my crying daughter and completely let go of this man in my heart. I didn’t sleep in the master bedroom that night. I held Lily in her small twin bed, squeezing in beside her. Even in her sleep, Lily kept sobbing, her little hand gripping my shirt tightly. Looking at her tear-stained face, a wave of late guilt washed over me. I had always thought that if I just endured his coldness, at least my child would have a complete family. But if a “complete family” required my daughter to stay hidden, to keep quiet, and to bury her pain, then it was nothing but a beautiful, empty shell. Just before dawn, Julian sent me a text saying Seraphina was safe and telling me not to blow his media statements out of proportion. I didn’t even bother to reply. A child being publicly denied by her father wasn’t a minor issue. A wife being hidden away like a shameful secret wasn’t a minor issue either. In the morning, the maid brought breakfast upstairs as usual, softly advising me not to fight with Julian. She said Julian had come home so late last night, which proved he still cared about Lily and me. I listened to her familiar excuses and felt incredibly exhausted. Everyone in the Sterling mansion was an expert at translating Julian’s coldness into “love.” A single glance, him coming home, or a slightly less cruel word was immediately twisted into proof that he cared. But when Lily cried herself to sleep last night, not a single person dared to ask Julian why he couldn’t put his daughter first for once. **Chapter 4** **Madelyn’s POV** Shortly after Julian left, his mother, Miranda, arrived. She wore an elegant dark shawl, and Chloe, Julian’s younger sister, followed closely behind her. Seeing the packed suitcases in the hallway, both of their faces turned sour. Miranda spoke first. “Madelyn, Julian was stressed last night, and he might have been a bit harsh. Men have to protect their public image for the sake of the business. You shouldn’t take it personally.” I handed Lily over to the nanny, closed the bedroom door, and turned around. “Does protecting his image require him to deny his own daughter?” Miranda’s expression stiffened, but she quickly smoothed it over. “Lily is a Sterling, nobody is denying that. It’s just not the right time to make it public.” Chloe couldn’t help but sneer. “Madelyn, don’t be so greedy. Has Julian ever treated you poorly? The mansion, the luxury cars, the endless allowance—which of those did you go without? Seraphina just got divorced, and the media is watching their every move. You’re choosing this exact moment to cause drama just because you want him to make a public statement, don’t you?” I looked at her. “What does Seraphina’s divorce have to do with my daughter being publicly disowned?” Chloe blinked, then snapped in frustration, “Stop pretending to be naive! Julian has loved Seraphina since they were teenagers. If she hadn’t married someone else back then, do you honestly think you would have ever set foot in the Sterling family?” The room fell dead silent. Those words felt like a freezing needle, popping every single lie I had told myself over the years. I knew the name Seraphina Vance. She was Miranda’s dream daughter-in-law, and the most dazzling girl in Julian’s youth. But Seraphina had married someone else, and Julian had never shown any lingering feelings in front of me. I thought she was just an old friend from his past. Clearly, I was wrong. Miranda glared at Chloe but didn’t deny her words. She sighed. “Madelyn, we all know how things are. Julian married you because of Robert’s insistence, and because you were quiet and obedient. I’ll admit you’ve raised Lily very well. But the most important quality for a woman in your position is to know her place. Don’t humiliate yourself by fighting a losing battle.” I wanted to laugh. So, my years of patience were viewed as nothing but “being obedient” to them. My daughter and I staying in the shadows wasn’t a sacrifice; it was us “knowing our place.” Julian claiming to be single wasn’t a betrayal; it was just him saving face for Seraphina. I stood up. “Are you finished?” Miranda frowned. “What is that attitude?” “My attitude is very clear,” I said. “I am leaving the Sterling family, and I am taking Lily with me.” Chloe laughed mockingly. “Do you think you can just walk away with her? Lily is a Sterling. If Julian decides to fight for custody, what do you have to fight him with?” I looked at her coldly. “Then let him try.” Miranda’s face darkened completely. I didn’t bother being polite anymore. I opened the door to signal that they should leave. Before Miranda walked out, she turned back, the fake maternal warmth completely gone from her eyes, replaced by a cold warning. “Madelyn, don’t burn your bridges.” I stood by the door and whispered, “I didn’t burn this bridge. Julian Sterling destroyed it himself.” After Miranda left, Chloe walked back in and tossed a jewelry box onto the table. Inside was a diamond necklace Julian had given me for our anniversary years ago. Chloe said dismissively, “This necklace is worth a fortune. If you’re really leaving, you’d better leave it behind. We wouldn’t want things to get ugly when the lawyers start looking at the assets.” I looked at the necklace, which I had barely worn, and smiled. I walked over to the safe, opened it, and pulled out every single piece of expensive jewelry the Sterlings had ever given me, dumping them all on the table. Chloe, who had come in to humiliate me, was suddenly speechless. I told her that my lawyer would itemize everything and return whatever belonged to the Sterlings. I didn’t want a single penny of their money, and I was done letting them use these shiny rocks to pretend they had treated me well. What they owed Lily and me could never be paid in diamonds. By the time Chloe left, the smug look was completely gone from her face. Standing before the pile of glittering jewels, I felt a strange sense of relief. I used to be so terrified of being accused of gold-digging that I didn’t even dare to speak up when I was hurt. Now I realized that silence didn’t prove my innocence. I would return what wasn’t mine, and I would fight for what was. Those two things didn’t contradict each other. I didn’t want their money, but I would take back my dignity and my daughter’s future. **Chapter 5** **Madelyn’s POV** The next day, before Carter’s lawyer arrived in the city, we had a FaceTime call. The lawyer, Attorney Vance, was sharp and direct. He didn’t suggest making a huge scene right away. Instead, he wanted to confirm if Lily and I could move freely, if I had our documents, and if the Sterlings were actively holding us hostage. I answered his questions one by one. Vance listened carefully before speaking. “Don’t rush into a direct confrontation just yet. The Sterlings are on guard right now. If you try to walk out the front gate, their security might stop you. You need a window when Julian is away, and when the staff won’t dare to physically block you.” I understood. I wasn’t afraid of the Sterlings, but I was terrified of scaring Lily. She had already been hurt enough by that broadcast; she didn’t need to witness a physical tug-of-war between bodyguards and maids. Carter was on the video call too. He looked a bit leaner than I remembered, but his eyes still held that sharp, protective spark from his youth. Seeing him, my emotions became incredibly complicated. “You didn’t have to go that far with the trust fund,” I said softly. Carter leaned back in his chair, his tone casual. “I didn’t do it just to make a point to Julian. I did it because I wanted to. The Hayes family always obsesses over bloodlines, but I wanted to show them that loving a child has nothing to do with biology. It’s about having a heart.” My eyes welled up with tears. “Lily is very sensitive right now. I don’t want her to feel like she’s a burden to anyone.” “Then let her know she isn’t,” Carter said, looking directly into my eyes. “And neither are you, Madelyn.” His words wrapped around my aching heart like a warm blanket. After the call ended, I went to Lily’s room. She was placing her stuffed rabbit on a tiny chair, talking to it like a little teacher. “From now on, we can’t call him Daddy anymore. We have to call him Mr. Sterling. Mommy said we don’t have to force ourselves to love people who don’t love us back.” Standing at the door, my tears almost spilled over. I walked in and knelt in front of her. “Mommy also said it’s okay to feel sad, Lily.” Lily pouted, her bottom lip trembling. “Can I still miss Daddy sometimes?” “Yes, you can.” “But even if we miss him, we’re not going back, right?” I hugged her tight. “Even if we miss him, we are not going back.” Lily finally broke down, crying into my shoulder. Her cries were quiet and filled with hurt, breaking my heart into a million pieces. I held her close, gently stroking her back. In the past, I stayed because I was terrified of raising Lily without a father. But now I saw that having a father who refused to acknowledge her existence was the greatest damage of all. Later that evening, Julian called. He explained that Seraphina was in a terrible state because of her ex-husband’s harassment, and he was only helping her as an old friend. Then he asked if I had calmed down and if I had put my suitcases away. I listened to his smooth, rational explanation and simply said, “Lily cried until she fell asleep last night.” There was a long silence on the line. “I’ll come home and explain it to her.” “No need,” I said coldly. “You’ve already explained it to the whole world.” I hung up. My hand was trembling as I set the phone on the desk. Carter didn’t say anything immediately, but a few minutes later, he sent a voice note. “Madelyn, you don’t have to win beautifully. You just have to stand your ground.” I played his voice note twice, and my heart slowly stabilized. Julian had always criticized me for being too emotional, but Carter was telling me that it was okay to tremble and be hurt, as long as I didn’t back down. That night, I organized our documents into waterproof folders. Every time I packed an item, I crossed it off my checklist. I never knew leaving a house required so much preparation, but these tedious tasks actually made me feel grounded. Carter sent over a backup plan later that night. If the Sterlings confiscated our documents, his lawyer would immediately file for emergency replacements. If Julian came home unexpectedly, Carter would be waiting outside the estate gates, so I wouldn’t have to face him alone. If Lily got too scared or upset, we would pause and try again another day. Looking at the detailed, calm steps, the knot in my stomach finally untied. I wasn’t running away on a desperate impulse. I had a way out, a solid plan, and someone who respected my right to say “stop” at any moment. **Chapter 6** **Madelyn’s POV** Julian came home while I was feeding Lily dinner. There was only a simple salad on the table. Usually, Lily would excitedly ask if her dad was coming home for dinner. Today, she just kept her head down, counting the peas in her bowl without saying a word. The moment Julian walked into the dining room, the maids quickly retreated. “Lily,” Julian said, softening his voice. “I had to work last night. I didn’t mean to miss dinner with you.” Lily looked up at him and corrected him politely. “That’s okay, Mr. Sterling.” Julian’s face turned incredibly pale. I held my daughter’s spoon and said softly, “Let’s finish your dinner first, sweetheart.” Julian glared at me. “Did you teach her to say that?” “You taught her yourself,” I replied calmly. “On live TV.” Julian tried to suppress his anger. “Madelyn, she’s just a child. Are you really going to act this childishly and teach her to hate me?” “I don’t want her to hate anyone.” I looked up, meeting his cold gaze. “I just don’t want her to keep getting hurt by you.” The dining room turned freezing cold. Julian pulled out a chair and sat down, his tone turning dominant. “This ends now. I’ve already handled the media; there won’t be any more stories online. You and Lily will stay here as usual. Once the merger is finalized, I will arrange a family photo shoot and tell the public that Lily is a relative’s child we are raising.” I stared at him, genuinely wondering if I had misheard him. “A relative’s child?” “It’s the safest way for now,” Julian said smoothly. “She’s too young to care about labels anyway.” Lily’s spoon slipped from her hand, clattering against the ceramic bowl. I stood up immediately. “Get out.” Julian’s eyes narrowed. “Madelyn.” “I said, get out.” My voice was shaking, but I didn’t back down an inch. “Don’t say another word in front of our daughter.” Julian stared at me for a long time, as if realizing for the first time that I was capable of raising my voice at him. Right then, his phone rang again. It was Chloe. Her frantic voice came through the speaker, saying Seraphina was being harassed by her ex-husband at an exclusive art gallery opening. People were laughing at her, and she needed Julian to go and save her from the embarrassment. I heard every word. It wasn’t a physical threat. Seraphina was just losing face in front of her high-society friends. Julian hung up and grabbed his keys. He looked at the butler. “Make sure they stay inside tonight. Nobody leaves.” Then, he turned to me. “Don’t upset Lily anymore. We’ll talk later.” I watched him put on his coat and asked quietly, “Julian, is there ever a time when you will choose your daughter first?” He paused at the door, but he didn’t turn back. “Don’t mix business with personal matters.” The front door clicked shut. Lily kept her head down, her tears silently falling into her food bowl. I picked her up, my heart finally setting itself in stone. After Julian left, Lily reached over to the table and closed her music book. She didn’t cry. She just looked at me and asked, “Mommy, if someone always says ‘next time,’ does ‘next time’ ever actually happen?” My throat felt incredibly tight, and it took me a long time to answer. I told her it depended on whether that person truly wanted to show up. Lily nodded quietly, stuffed her music book into her little backpack, and said she wasn’t going to wait for his “next time” anymore. Her quiet acceptance broke my heart more than any loud crying ever could. Children don’t lose hope overnight. They lose it slowly, after reaching out their tiny hands so many times, only to bring them back empty. I held her backpack close, holding all of her crushed hopes along with it. I would never let my daughter grow up remembering her father as nothing but a string of broken promises. Later that night, I carefully examined the security system of the Sterling estate. The front gate, the side exit, the garage—every single path required the butler’s clearance. I used to think of it as high-security luxury. Now, I realized security could easily turn into a golden cage. I memorized the positions of every exit and asked the maid what time the sanitation trucks cleared the back gate. The maid froze, stuttering, too afraid to give me a straight answer. I didn’t press her, but I noted her reaction. Everyone here answered to Julian. I couldn’t count on anyone opening the gate for us out of pity when the time came. I packed a small backpack for Lily, putting in a change of clothes, a bottle of water, some snacks, and her music book. She didn’t know what we were doing, only giggling and saying it felt like we were preparing for a camping trip. I forced a smile, but my eyes burned. I was helping my daughter escape, not from poverty or a dangerous stranger, but from her own father and the house we were supposed to call home. The sheer absurdity of it was suffocating.

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Three months into my pregnancy, I had an intense craving for blueberries. I texted Ethan, who worked at the hospital, asking him to grab some on his way home from his shift. It was eleven at night when Ethan finally walked through the door. His hands were completely empty. He saw the look on my face, realized his mistake, and gave me a guilt-ridden apology. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I was in surgery all day and completely forgot about the blueberries.” “I’ll buy them for you first thing tomorrow, okay? Please don’t be mad.” I didn’t think too much of it. Instead, I tried to comfort him. But as I was hanging up his coat, a trendy designer hair claw slid out of his pocket. Ethan’s face went stiff. He quickly offered an awkward explanation. “Oh, Hailey really wanted that brand. She kept begging me to grab one for her if I passed by the boutique, so I just bought it to get her off my back.” I remembered it clearly. Right next to that boutique was the organic market that sold my favorite blueberries. A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me. I looked at him, my voice eerily calm. “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.”

Ethan froze. His expression darkened instantly. “On what grounds?” My hand tightened around the hair claw, the plastic teeth biting into my palm. “You forgot my blueberries.” “Just because of that?” His face fell completely, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, looking utterly drained. “Chloe, you’re about to be a mother. How are you still this childish and petty?” “Pregnant women are always so unreasonable. Fine, throw your tantrum. I’m not going to argue with you.” With that, he snatched the hair claw from my hand, grabbed his pillow, and headed straight for the study. As I watched his retreating back, a sharp, dull ache spread through my chest. That night, following a trail of digital breadcrumbs, I finally found Hailey’s Instagram account. I opened it, and it was filled with posts about her and Ethan. “Ethan looks so cold, but he’s actually the sweetest. He complains about me every day, but he never misses a lunch date with me.” The photo showed Ethan with a reluctant face, eating the onions she had picked out of her plate. Ethan hated wasting food. If I ever left my onions behind, he would lecture me for hours. But with Hailey, his rules didn’t seem to apply. “So much stress lately that my chest was aching. Luckily, Ethan was there to do a private exam for me.” The photo was a mirror selfie of Ethan adjusting his stethoscope in an examination room, with her smiling in the background. The latest update was from just a minute ago. It was a screenshot of a FaceTime call. She was wearing a skimpy bunny girl outfit, posing suggestively. “Ethan got annoyed by a certain pregnant lady tonight, but don’t worry, I’ve already cheered him up.” My heart sank into a cold, dark abyss. Behind my back, Ethan and Hailey had already crossed every line. The next morning. It was Ethan’s day off. He woke up early and bought a carton of the plumpest, freshest blueberries. He washed them, put them on a plate, and even fed one to my mouth. “I didn’t forget the blueberries on purpose last night, Chloe. I was just exhausted.” “I know pregnant women are sensitive and prone to overthinking. That’s why I went out first thing this morning to get these. They’re super sweet. You’ll love them.” Looking at the perfect blueberries, I only felt a wave of nausea. Just then, Ethan’s phone buzzed. The caller ID read: “The World’s Biggest Idiot.” It sounded like a tease, but it was dripping with affection. I didn’t know what Hailey said on the other end, but the color drained from Ethan’s face. He turned to me, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Hailey’s being harassed by a patient. She’s just a young resident; she can’t handle this alone. I have to go.” I grabbed his arm. “Is she the only doctor in that entire hospital? She can call security, or she can call the cops. Why does she have to call another woman’s husband?” “And you forgot? Today is my prenatal checkup. You promised you’d come with me.” Ethan stared at me as if I were a stranger, his eyes cold and distant. “Chloe, how can you be so heartless? Hailey is my junior. It’s my job to look out for her.” He shook off my grip and walked out without looking back. Staring at the closed door, I suddenly remembered the day we found out I was pregnant. He had cried tears of joy. He told me that I and the baby were his entire world. Now, we couldn’t even compete with another woman. Ten minutes later, Hailey’s Instagram updated. The location tag was Ethan’s office. She was wearing a crop top, kneeling under his desk, her hand on his belt. The caption read: “Lied to Ethan about being harassed just so I could give him his ‘reward.’ lol.” I let out a dry laugh. I pulled out my phone and called my best friend, Jessica. “Jessica, draw up a divorce agreement. I’m leaving Ethan.” I met Jessica at a local coffee shop. When she heard what Ethan had done, her face went red with rage, and she cursed him out for ten minutes straight. After I calmed her down, she quickly drafted the paperwork. “Get him to sign this as soon as possible. Also, I’m moving to London in two weeks for a new firm. Come with me.” On my way home, a black sedan suddenly veered into my lane. To avoid a head-on collision, my Uber driver swerved violently, crashing straight into an oncoming SUV. The impact slammed me against the door. A sharp, agonizing pain ripped through my abdomen, and I felt a warm rush of fluid between my legs. Before I could even scream, my vision started to fade. Right before I blacked out, I saw a familiar man and woman rush out of the black sedan. Ethan ran toward me, looking completely frantic. The hickey on his collarbone stood out like a fresh brand, burning my eyes. He held me, his voice trembling. “Chloe! Stay with me! I’m getting you to the ER right now!” I couldn’t speak. Darkness swallowed me whole. When I regained consciousness, I was on an operating table. Ethan, in his surgical scrubs, was prep-ping for surgery with a panicked look on his face. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let anything happen to you or the baby. You’re going to be fine.” Beside him, Hailey’s eyes were red, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. It’s my fault… I distracted Ethan while he was driving. I’m so sorry.” “But don’t worry, Ethan is the best surgeon here. You and the baby will make it.” The memory of them in the car flashed through my mind, filling me with rage, but the anesthesia kept me paralyzed and mute. Thanks to Ethan’s skills, the initial surgery went well. The baby was temporarily out of danger. But during the final closure, Hailey, who was assisting with the sutures, made a fatal error with the surgical tool. She accidentally sliced deep into my uterine wall. Blood surged instantly, turning the sterile field into a crimson nightmare.

“Damn it!” Ethan’s voice cracked. He immediately began emergency resuscitation. But it was too late. The baby was gone. I nearly died too, slipping back into a deep coma on the table. When I woke up again, Ethan was sitting by my bedside. He had dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. I parted my dry lips. “The baby is gone?” Guilt flashed in Ethan’s eyes. He squeezed my hand tightly. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I couldn’t save him. But please, don’t be too sad. We can have another baby. The important thing is that you’re okay.” Hailey, standing nearby, nodded quickly in agreement. “Exactly, Chloe. At least we saved your life. You have to stay strong.” I let out a cold, hollow laugh. “What right do you two have to say that? You killed my baby. I saw what you were doing in that car. I’m going to report both of you to the medical board. You’re going to lose your licenses.” Their faces turned pale instantly. Hailey fell to her knees by my bed, sobbing. “I’m sorry, Chloe! I know I messed up! Please don’t report me. They’ll expel me from the residency program!” “I worked so hard to get into this hospital. Being a doctor is my dream. If I lose this, my life is over!” Ethan’s face softened with pity. He turned to me, frowning. “Chloe, I told you, it was an accident. We didn’t mean to hit your car. Do you really have to ruin her entire life?” “We can always have another baby. Are you seriously going to destroy a living person’s future over a child you haven’t even met yet?” When he said those words, did he remember how he had cried tears of joy when we first saw the positive pregnancy test? I didn’t want to look at him. I turned my back to them. It didn’t matter. Soon, I would be gone anyway. Seeing my silence, Hailey cried harder until she fake-fainted. Ethan, looking utterly heartbroken, scooped her up in his arms and rushed out of the room. That very night, Ethan had me secretly discharged and brought me back to our house. He confiscated my phone, laptop, and passport, locking me inside the master bedroom. I knew why. He was terrified I would report Hailey and ruin her career. He told me: “I was the one driving. If you want to sue someone, sue me. Hailey is innocent. She comes from a poor family and worked her butt off to get out of her small town. I won’t let our marital issues ruin her.” But with his family’s connections, even if I sent ten thousand reports, I couldn’t touch his position at the hospital. To keep me quiet, he forced me to take sleeping pills, keeping me in a constant, drug-induced sleep. Until one day, I was awakened by a sharp, stinging pain. I opened my eyes and saw Hailey holding my right hand. She was repeatedly sticking an IV needle into my skin, over and over again. Seeing me open my eyes, she gave me an innocent smile. “Oh, you’re awake, Chloe. I have a clinical exam in a few days, so I wanted to practice finding veins on your hand. Sorry if it hurt.” Looking at my blood-spattered hand, I summoned all my strength, raised my left arm, and slapped her hard across the face. The commotion brought Ethan running in. Seeing the red mark on Hailey’s cheek, he glared at me. “Chloe! Hailey came all the way here to check on you, and you slapped her?!” I pointed at the bleeding needle marks on my wrist. “She used my hand as a pincushion. Why shouldn’t I slap her?” A flicker of guilt crossed Ethan’s eyes, but before he could speak, Hailey burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Chloe! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I just wanted to pass my exam… I really didn’t mean it…” Ethan couldn’t stand her tears. He quickly wiped her face and comforted her. “It’s not your fault, Hailey. Don’t blame yourself.” I wanted to laugh. I was the one bleeding, yet he was pardoning her on my behalf. I grabbed the ceramic vase from the nightstand and hurled it at them. “Get out! Both of you, get the hell out of my house!”

Ethan easily pulled Hailey out of the way of the shattering vase. He ushered her out of the room and ordered the guard at the door: “The Mrs. is agitated. Have the private doctor come up and bandage her hand.” Ethan didn’t come back to the room that night. I didn’t care. I quietly began packing my things. Ethan and I were high school sweethearts. We had been together from age eighteen to twenty-eight. The photos we took and the gifts we exchanged over ten years were countless. That night, I threw them all into the fireplace and watched them burn to ash. Four days later, Ethan finally returned. He was completely drunk, and Hailey was supporting his weight. Seeing me sitting on the living room sofa, Hailey gave me a smug, provocative smile. “Ethan drank a bit too much celebrating my successful exam. Don’t be mad, Chloe.” “Who’s drunk?” Ethan mumbled, pinning Hailey against the wall with a goofy grin. “I can drink ten more of you under the table.” Hailey smiled at me. “Don’t mind him, Chloe. He’s always like this when he’s drunk…” “I don’t mind,” I interrupted her before she could finish. I stood up and went upstairs, completely ignoring them. That night, muffled, disgusting sounds drifted up from the living room. I blocked them out. At 3:00 AM, Hailey sent me a selfie. Her neck was covered in dark hickeys. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Chloe. Ethan thought I was you last night. He was so rough. These are going to take days to fade.” I let out a cold snort and didn’t reply. The next afternoon, Jessica texted me. “Are you packed? I booked our flight for 3:00 PM. I’m coming to pick you up in an hour.” I replied with a single word: “Yes.” Then, I walked over to the safe to grab the pink diamond locket my parents had left me. But when I opened it, the safe was completely empty. A terrible feeling seized me. I rushed downstairs. In the kitchen, Ethan was wearing an apron, cooking lunch for Hailey. Hailey was lounging on the sofa, watching TV, and around her neck was my pink diamond locket. I marched over to her, my voice cold as ice. “Give me my necklace back.” Hailey frowned, covering the locket with her hand. “Ethan gave this to me. It’s an expensive gift. I’m not giving it back.” I sneered. “That was left to me by my deceased parents. What right does he have to give it to you?” Hearing the noise, Ethan walked out of the kitchen. Seeing us fighting over the necklace, a flash of guilt crossed his face, but he quickly tried to placate me. “Chloe, Hailey is going to a prestigious training seminar out of state next month. I was worried about her going alone, so I lent her the locket for good luck. Don’t worry, she’ll return it when she gets back.” Fury flared in my chest. I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. “Ethan! You know how much this locket means to me! I don’t even wear it myself! How dare you give it to her?!” Ethan’s face darkened. “It’s just a piece of jewelry, Chloe! Why are you being so stingy? She said she’d return it!” Before I could speak, Hailey choked out a sob. “Fine, if you’re going to be like this, I don’t want it. Take it back!” She unclasped the necklace and held it out to me. But just as I reached for it, she purposely let go. The delicate locket fell, slamming hard against the marble floor. The pink diamond popped out, the gold frame bent, and the glass protecting my parents’ picture shattered into tiny pieces. Hailey gasped, fake-covering her mouth. “Oh my god! Why didn’t you catch it? The locket is ruined. You can’t blame me for that.” Her smug, mocking face made me sick. I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the heavy glass vase from the coffee table and slammed it right over her head. Hailey screamed as blood began to gush from her forehead. Ethan panicked, instantly grabbing clean towels to stop the bleeding. I didn’t even look at them. I knelt, picked up the broken pieces of my locket, and went upstairs to grab my suitcase. As I walked back down, Ethan yelled after me. “Chloe! Where do you think you’re going?!” I looked at him with an expressionless face and threw the signed divorce papers right at his face. “Away from you.” “Ethan, we are done. I don’t want you anymore.”

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Eight years into our marriage, heavily pregnant, I had just secured a fifty-million-dollar contract for Carter Vance. But the moment I walked back into the office, I caught him and his new secretary locked in a passionate embrace, passionately making out. My body trembled with rage as I confronted them. Yet, all I got in return was a sneer from the young girl. “So you’re the famous charity-case scholarship girl Carter sponsored back in college? Look at you—so tacky and plain. You don’t look like Mrs. Vance at all! Carter has me now. If you have any self-respect left, get an abortion, sign the papers, and get lost!” I slowly turned my gaze to Carter, who was standing beside her. Though he didn’t say a word, his bowed head and avoided gaze spoke volumes. Taking advantage of their distraction, I quickly slipped the signed fifty-million-dollar contract back into my designer bag. A cold smile played on my lips as I looked at my husband. “Carter, after all these years as husband and wife, I only need one word from you. Do you actually dare to divorce me?”

I had married into the Vance family when Vance Tech was on the verge of bankruptcy. For eight long years—over two thousand grueling days and nights—I relied on my own research and dozens of patents to bring Vance Tech back from the dead. Even Carter’s snobbish parents used to treat me with absolute respect. I honestly thought Carter understood what was at stake. “Chloe, let’s just get a divorce.” Carter stared at his own expensive shoes, mumbling those six words. His voice wasn’t loud, but there was a sickeningly firm resolve behind his feigned helplessness. Suddenly, a sharp, deafening ringing buzzed in my ears—a symptom that had plagued me ever since I got pregnant. In my belly, the baby gave a sudden, violent kick. I lunged forward, grabbing Carter by his silk tie. “Are you serious? I am five months pregnant! You want a divorce now?” Carter let me yank his tie, refusing to meet my eyes or utter a single word of defense. The anger inside me burned hotter. This was always Carter’s way when things got tough. Avoidance. Silence. Just as I was about to scream at him, a high-pitched, mocking female voice cut in. “Oh, cut the drama, you rabid dog. Carter is only being nice because of your history. When a man asks for a divorce once, it’s already over. If you had any dignity, you’d pack your bags and roll out…” Hailey Bennett was someone a business contact had begged me dozens of times to slip into our company. I never expected to recruit my own nightmare. I made a mental note to make that contact pay dearly for this later. But Hailey took another step forward, getting right in my face. “Are you deaf? I’m talking to you, you trailer-trash she-devil—” Before she could finish her sentence, my hand flew out and delivered a ringing slap across her face. “That slap was to teach you how to speak to your boss!” “And this one…” I raised my hand again, aiming for her other cheek, “…is to teach you how to speak to a wife!” But before my palm could connect, a large, firm hand clamped down on my wrist. Carter looked at me with a complicated, guilty expression. “That’s enough, Chloe! If you want to hit someone, hit me! I drank too much that night and got Hailey pregnant. She’s young, and I have to take responsibility for her and the baby…” It felt like a lump of cold ash was wedged in my throat. My chest surged with absolute fury and betrayal, but I couldn’t squeeze out a single word. Carter had health issues; for Hailey to get pregnant so quickly seemed less like an accident and more like a carefully orchestrated trap. Suddenly, it hit me. A few months ago, Carter, who used to chain-smoke, had abruptly quit. When I asked him about it back then, he had wrapped his arms around me with tender affection and whispered in my ear: “Chloe, you’re pregnant now. For you, the baby, and our future, I have to quit.” I had actually thought he was finally growing up, ready to be a real partner. Turns out, he was just preparing his body to conceive a child with this cheap little girl. My stomach suddenly churned. I leaned against the wall, dry-heaving uncontrollably. Carter rushed forward, trying to support me. “Chloe, I’m sorry,” he whispered cautiously. “I know I messed up. I’ll give you time to process this. As long as we get the divorce finalized before Hailey gives birth, that’s all I ask. Please try to understand… Hailey’s baby can’t grow up without a father.” The scent of his familiar cologne drifted into my nose, making me feel even sicker. I violently pushed him away, forcing a cold, lethal smile as I stared him down. “What is there to process? We’re divorcing. Right now.” Then, I shifted my icy gaze to Hailey’s barely visible baby bump. “Her kid can’t be without a father, and neither can mine. Let’s get this done quickly so I can find a much better dad for my son.” A flicker of panic flashed deep in Carter’s eyes. “Chloe…” “Carter! She already agreed! Why are you stalling? Get the divorce papers out!” Hailey pouted, cutting him off. Before Carter could even react, Hailey had already grabbed the pre-printed divorce agreement and shoved it into my hands. I scanned the terms, and a cold, hysterical laugh escaped my lips. “Carter Vance, zero shares of the company for me?” “Chloe, Vance Tech belongs to my family. Besides, I funded your college tuition for eight years. In all fairness, you have no right to these shares.” I had been grateful once. That was why I married him when the Vance family was at their lowest. Over the years, dozens of tech giants had offered me hundreds of millions for my patents. But I had let the Vance family use them for free for eight years. Ninety percent of Vance Tech’s clients only signed with us because of my patents. And now, Carter wanted me to leave with absolutely nothing. “Chloe, if you’re really unhappy about it, I suppose I could transfer a tiny fraction of my personal shares to you…” “No need,” I said, grabbing a pen. “I’ll sign. We’re divorcing right now.” Once this marriage is over, forget your petty shares—the entire Vance family will soon find themselves holding a hollow shell.

The moment the ink dried on my signature, Hailey let out a mocking chuckle beside me. “I don’t get why you’re still acting so proud. A divorced, pregnant trailer-trash woman—let’s see how you survive without Carter!” “Unlike you, Carter has my family’s backing now. Within a year, he’ll easily become the richest man in the city!” I stopped in my tracks and cast a chilling side-eye at Hailey. Her family? I vaguely recalled her belonging to some old-money family in decline, but I couldn’t quite place the name. I tossed the signed agreement onto the desk and turned to leave. Just as I reached the door, Carter called out to me. “Chloe! Did you sign that fifty-million-dollar contract you went out to negotiate today?” I slowly turned around, a sweet, mocking smile on my face. “I did. But I just sent a message to the client telling them the contract is canceled.” “Carter, we’re divorced now. I have no interest in working like a dog for the Vance family anymore. I’m sure you understand.” The otherwise quiet and passive Carter suddenly erupted into a furious rage. “Chloe! Do you have to be this ruthless?!” Gritting his teeth in anger, he snatched his phone and dialed the client’s number. The moment the call connected, Carter instantly forced a greasy, sycophantic smile onto his face. “M-Mr. Sterling! Hello, this is Carter Vance from Vance Tech…” “Carter Vance? Who the hell is that? At Vance Tech, I only deal with Chloe Miller.” The next second, the line went dead. Carter desperately dialed back, but every call went straight to voicemail. In a fit of rage, Carter slammed his phone onto the marble floor, glaring at me like he wanted to rip me apart. “Chloe! Do you have to ruin us?! Do you know how important that fifty-million-dollar contract was?! That was almost our entire profit margin for the year!” I shrugged, utterly indifferent. “I know. But what does that have to do with me?” Hailey quickly rushed to his side, rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothings. “Carter, babe, don’t worry. It’s just a fifty-million-dollar contract. I’ll talk to my grandfather when I get home. Forget fifty million—he can get you a five-hundred-million-dollar deal with a snap of his fingers!” I smiled and walked out of the building. Behind me, Carter’s furious, resentful roars echoed down the hallway. “Chloe! Getting rid of you was the best decision of my life! I never realized what a vicious, disgusting bitch you really are!” Ignoring his pathetic screams, I dialed the contact who had forced Hailey into my company. “Julian, what is the background of that little girl you had me hire?” “Oh, her?” Julian Brooks laughed over the line. “She’s the spoiled heiress of Apex Holdings—well, what’s left of it. Old man Bennett practically begged me for five years just to get a meeting with you. He probably figured sending his granddaughter to butter you up was his best shot. They want your patents. They figured if you could save the Vance family, you could save the Bennetts too…” The foggy pieces of my memory suddenly clicked together. During the last few industry summits, a frail, elderly man had bowed politely to me, with a decent-looking girl hovering behind him. A quiet sneer escaped my lips. So, Carter and Hailey were playing a game of mutual deception, both trying to leech off each other’s non-existent fortunes. How entertaining.

I was in Julian’s office, telling him about Hailey’s grand performance, when his assistant knocked and entered with a pale face. The assistant hesitantly leaned in to whisper to Julian, but Julian pushed him back. “Chloe is family. If you have something to say, say it out loud.” The assistant trembled. “Mr. Brooks… our building is being swarmed by reporters.” “Why are they swarming us?” “They’re… they’re demanding a statement from Ms. Miller…” Julian and I pulled out our phones at the same time. The moment I saw the trending headlines on Instagram and Twitter, my heart sank into a cold, dark abyss. Out of the top ten trending topics in the city, I occupied three, highlighted in blood-red. 【Viper in the House! Vance Family’s Charity Case Cancels $50M Contract to Vent Personal Malice!】 【Vance Tech’s Wife Betrays Husband: Secretly Pregnant with a Boytoy’s Child!】 【Chloe Miller’s Calculated Scam: The Truth Behind Her Parasitic Marriage to the Vance Family!】 Then came a barrage of emails and messages from my clients. [Ms. Miller, we need an official explanation regarding these scandals immediately. Otherwise, we may have to reconsider our partnership for the next quarter.] [Chloe, let’s put our ongoing negotiations on hold for now.] There were even vicious messages from anonymous internet trolls. [You disgusting whore! I’ll spit on you if I ever see you on the street!] [Ungrateful snake! I hope your baby is born a freak!] I clenched my fist and slammed it on the desk. This was clearly the work of Carter and Hailey. The moment I notified the clients of my departure from Vance Tech, these smear campaigns had flooded the internet. They wanted to utterly ruin me. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, but Julian caught my arm. “Chloe, you’re pregnant. Don’t go out there. Let me handle this.” I gently shook his hand off. “Julian, I dragged myself out of hell to get where I am today. A little rain storm isn’t going to break me.” But the moment I stepped out of the lobby, I realized why Julian’s assistant had been so terrified. Because besides the bloodthirsty paparazzi, there were several prominent figures from the city’s high society standing at the entrance. Among them were Carter’s parents. Eleanor Vance spotted me from a distance and immediately put on a fake, warm smile, rushing over to grab my hands. “Chloe, sweetie! I don’t know how things got so out of hand. It must be because of that fifty-million-dollar contract. Did we upset Mr. Sterling?” Richard Vance stepped forward too, forcing a reassuring smile. “Yes, Chloe. Canceling a signed deal so suddenly… it’s natural for the client to be upset. Just go apologize to Mr. Sterling, get the contract back, and I’m sure these reporters will leave you alone.” I slowly peeled Eleanor’s manicured hands off me and smiled. “Actually, Eleanor, Mr. Sterling isn’t upset at all. I just signed a new deal with him through a friend’s company. He is actually thrilled.” I watched the color drain from the elderly couple’s faces. A cold sneer formed in my heart. It seemed they had a hand in this media circus today too. I had bled myself dry for the Vance family for eight years, only to realize I had been feeding a pack of ungrateful wolves. Eleanor’s face instantly twisted in anger. “Chloe, what did you just say?! You signed Mr. Sterling with a friend’s company? You are the daughter-in-law of the Vance family! How dare you betray us like this?!” I met her furious gaze, reached into my bag, and slapped the newly signed divorce agreement into her hands. “I’m sorry, but I have absolutely nothing to do with the Vance family anymore.”

I pushed past Eleanor to leave, but the hundreds of reporters waiting outside swarmed me like vultures. In my eight years of running a business, I had dealt with the media countless times. I knew that the more I spoke now, the more they would twist my words. I turned toward the back exit, but a sharp, mocking voice cut through the noise. “Oh, look at the elegant Chloe Miller. What’s wrong? Did we hit a nerve? Running away because you can’t face the truth?” Hailey, clinging tightly to Carter’s arm, strutted toward me. I ignored her and kept walking, but before I could take two steps, someone grabbed my wrist in a vice grip. Hailey jumped in front of me, pointing a finger right at my nose. “Let me tell you, Chloe, don’t think Vance Tech is nothing without you! Fifty million is pocket change. Even if it’s five hundred million, or five billion, it’s just a phone call away for me!” “Mrs. Vance was kind enough to give you a way out, and instead of being grateful, you disrespected her in public! Get your ass over here and apologize to her right now!” Carter chimed in, his face cold and arrogant. “Chloe, you crossed the line today. If you don’t apologize to my mother properly, you aren’t leaving this place.” As the drama unfolded, the crowd grew larger. I could see the luxury cars of several major business partners pulling up down the street. It seemed Carter and Hailey had really planned this trap thoroughly. While I was looking away, a sharp pain erupted from my scalp. Hailey had grabbed me by my hair, violently dragging me toward Eleanor. In the chaos and shoving, I lost my footing and crashed hard against the concrete stairs. A careless reporter tripped over me, and his heavy camera slammed directly into my lower abdomen before he fell right on top of my body. An excruciating, stabbing pain shot through my belly. A second later, a warm, wet sensation began to pool beneath me, soaking through my clothes. Eleanor stood over me, looking down coldly. Hailey yanked my hair again, forcing my head up. “Do it! Apologize to Mrs. Vance!” Looking at the blood pooling beneath me, Eleanor showed a brief flicker of hesitation. After all, she knew my value to their business better than Carter did. But just as she bent down to help me up, Hailey cut her off. “Mrs. Vance, don’t waste your pity on this snake! Don’t worry about the business. Leave it all to me. I already spoke to my grandfather about that five-hundred-million-dollar project. The contract will be signed, and the money will hit your account in no time!” Hearing the mention of five hundred million dollars, Eleanor’s eyes lit up with greed. When she looked back down at me, her face was filled with haughty disdain once more. “Chloe, you’re a grown woman, yet you’re not even half as sensible as Hailey. For old times’ sake, just apologize to me, hand back our clients, and we will let this go.” Hailey stepped closer, whispering maliciously in my ear as she looked at my blood-soaked pants. “You worthless trash. You couldn’t even keep your husband, and now you can’t even keep your baby.” “Once my grandfather transfers that five hundred million to the Vance family, your real living hell begins!” I gritted my teeth, forced myself up, and landed a vicious slap right across Hailey’s face. “Your grandfather is on his way. Let’s see whose living hell begins then…” Hailey gasped, her eyes wide with shock. Just as she was about to slap me back, a deep, booming voice echoed from the entrance. “Hailey Bennett!”

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On the tenth year of being Julian Brooks’s exclusive figure model, he finally proposed to me. On the night of our engagement, I asked him to paint me in my wedding dress, wanting him to capture me at my most beautiful. I was buzzing with excitement, completely missing the fleeting stiffness that washed over his face. “I’m sorry, Sera,” Julian rasped, sitting before the blank canvas, his face pale under the studio lights. “I… I can’t paint you.” “What?” My smile froze. A sudden, icy draft seemed to seep straight into my bones. For the past ten years, he had always held me tight and whispered the same thing. He said I was the source of all his inspiration. His one and only muse. And now, he was telling me he couldn’t paint me. After Julian practically fled the studio, a gust of wind blew through the open window, lifting the heavy white sheet covering the most secluded corner of the room. That was when I saw them. Dozens of explicit, raw paintings Julian had done—all featuring the body of another woman.

My fingers curled into fists, my legs feeling like they were trapped in wet cement. The wind hadn’t just lifted a canvas cover; it had ripped away the final shred of decency from our ten-year relationship. I forced myself to move forward and yanked the white sheet completely off. In the dim light of the studio, I raised my hand, my vision blurring as I stared at the artwork in front of me. It was all the same girl. In one painting, she was half-naked, lounging on a plush window seat, eyes heavy with desire. In another, she stood under a golden sunset by the beach, her hair glowing like spun gold. And in another… She was lying on the very bed I had slept in for the past ten years, looking up with a seductive gaze. My ears buzzed. Memories of Julian and me flashed violently through my mind. “Jules, I love feathers. Can we have falling feathers at our wedding?” “Of course, babe.” He had never said no to me. Not once. “Jules, I want to watch the sunset on the beach. Will you take me?” “Sure.” That time, he had hesitated before agreeing. But to this day, I had never got to see that sunset with him. I had never rushed him, because I truly believed we had all the time in the world. But now, reality had just delivered a brutal, mocking slap to my face. The girl in the paintings seemed to laugh at my pathetic naivety. Everything I had longed to do with Julian, he had already done with another woman. My gaze hardened as I stared at the canvases, my heart turning to ice. I reached for a pair of fabric shears on the side table. With a clean, sharp slash, I ripped the wedding dress Julian had personally designed for me right down the middle. Just as the silk tore, the studio door pushed open. Julian hurried in, his face tight with guilt. “Sera, I—” He stopped dead in his words, his eyes landing on the ruined wedding dress. And then, on the uncovered paintings. His pupils dilated. His lips parted, but he couldn’t squeeze out a single word of explanation. “Who is she?” I asked directly, my voice eerily calm. Only I knew how badly my heart was bleeding beneath that calm facade. Ten years ago, Julian was just a starving artist. We met at a gallery in San Francisco. The moment he saw me, he begged me to be his model. I still remembered that day. He was standing in the long corridor of the gallery, the sunset casting a warm, golden halo around his hair. Just like that, he had painted his way into my heart. “Okay,” I had whispered, enchanted. That single word started our ten-year entanglement. “She’s an undergraduate from my department,” he muttered, his voice raspy as he stared at the floor. “Sera, don’t get the wrong idea. It was purely for art.” I forced a bitter laugh, looking up at him with pure sarcasm. “For art?” I closed my eyes, swallowing the bile in my throat. “For ten years, you told me I was your only source of inspiration. Your only muse.” Julian’s face tightened. He frowned, clearly annoyed by my persistence. “Inspiration isn’t something you can just control,” he said impatiently. “We’re getting married in a week. Isn’t that enough for you?” Seeing my wide, hollow eyes, his tone softened slightly. “Sera, we’ve been together for ten years. Yes, you were my muse for a decade. But… an artist can’t stay stagnant forever. I needed a fresh perspective. I needed a new muse.” My hands clenched the shears tighter. The cold metal dug into my palm, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. Looking at Julian, I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. “It’s not just a new muse you want, is it?” I smiled bitterly. “Why don’t you make her your bride next week, too?” “Sera!” he snapped, his voice sharp with a warning tone, as if I had hit a nerve. “I am marrying you. But I won’t stop painting her. Stop being unreasonable.” My heart sank into a dark, bottomless abyss. Before I could speak, his phone buzzed. In the dead silence of the room, a woman’s voice came through the speaker, clear as day. “Jules, are you coming over tonight? I’m waiting for you.” My body began to shake uncontrollably in the sudden chill of the room. Julian hung up, grabbed his jacket, and rushed out the door without looking back. All the strength holding me up evaporated. I collapsed onto the floor, surrounded by emptiness. After what felt like hours, I picked up my phone and called my wedding coordinator. “I need a new wedding dress designed within a week.” “Sure, what size?” I gripped the phone, my eyes locking onto the new “muse” in the paintings. Fortunately, after ten years in the industry, I had an eye for body measurements. “Size 2. 32-24-35.”

Predictably, Julian didn’t come home that night. The next morning, I was woken up by rustling noises outside my bedroom. I opened the door and saw a young girl standing in the hallway. My breath hitched. With just one look, I recognized her from the paintings. She gasped when she saw me. “Oh… Sera? What are you doing home? I thought…” Realizing she had slipped up, she quickly covered her mouth. Her eyes—which looked eighty percent like mine—filled with mock panic. I took a step forward, a cold, mocking smile on my lips. “What am I doing in my own home? So, you usually come over when I’m not here?” Her eyes darted around, and she spoke in a soft, trembling voice. “No, that’s not it. I just came to grab some brushes for Julian. We have a session scheduled today. We’re shooting… private portraits.” She peeked at me, a flash of smug defiance hidden in her eyes. My fists clenched at my sides. Her tactics were cheap, but highly effective. A wave of hot, blinding fury burned away the last of my sanity. Slap! The sharp sound of the slap echoed through the hallway. “Are you looking for trouble?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet. “How dare you flaunt your cheap affair in my face?” She clutched her cheek, staring at me in absolute shock. “You…” “Sera!” Julian’s angry voice roared from the front door. “What do you think you’re doing?” He rushed over and pulled Chloe behind him. It looked like he was reprimanding her, but he was actually shielding her from me. A sharp, stabbing pain pierced my chest. Julian stared at the red mark on Chloe’s cheek, his brow furrowed in anger as he glared at me. “I’m sorry about this, Sera. She was just helping me grab some gear. Don’t take it out on her.” “Ju—” I stopped myself. Hearing Chloe call him “Jules” made me want to throw up. I called him by his full name instead. “Julian.” “I told you yesterday, you can swap your bride for her next week. But as long as she behaves like a homewrecker in front of me, I will put her in her place.” Behind him, Chloe’s eyes lit up with a triumphant gleam. Julian flinched when he heard me call him by his full name. But hearing my words, his face darkened completely, filled with impatience and a trace of irritation he didn’t even seem to realize he had. “Sera! Can you stop throwing a tantrum? She was just picking up my things. Do you really have to be this petty?” “Let me tell you something. In the future, there will only be more women I paint!” He rubbed his temples, his voice sounding incredibly exhausted. “Can you try to understand me for once? I look at you now and I feel absolutely nothing. No inspiration. Do you want me to ruin my career just to prove my loyalty to you?” “I’m marrying you. You’ll be my only wife. Isn’t that enough?” Outside, thunder rumbled, and a sudden downpour began to pelt against the glass. But my heart, strangely, fell completely quiet. I looked at him, not bothering to argue anymore. I simply said, word by word, “Do whatever you want.” Julian let out a sigh of relief, thinking I had surrendered. He stepped forward to give me a quick hug before rushing out the door with Chloe. The moment they left, I pulled out my phone and deleted every single trace of Julian Brooks from my life. All those beautiful memories were now nothing but poison. That afternoon, I received an invitation from my alma mater to speak as an distinguished alumna to the graduating seniors. As I walked down the campus path, I overheard a group of students gossiping excitedly. “Hey, did you hear? Julian Brooks is back on campus! He brought Chloe from the senior class to the Diamond Studio.” “No way! Isn’t that studio supposed to be…” “I’m serious! My roommate is the student council president. Julian got the keys from her.” Their voices faded as they walked away. I looked up at the dark, overcast sky, feeling my heart being ripped apart piece by piece. As a former art student, I knew exactly what that studio was used for. Artists often chased extreme, provocative aesthetics. Bondage gear—handcuffs, heavy chains, and cages—were kept there for avant-garde photography and dark installations.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and walked toward the Diamond Studio. The hallway grew quieter the closer I got, making the heavy clinking of chains inside the room echo loudly. Julian had forgotten to lock the door. It was slightly ajar. Through the crack, the scene inside struck my eyes like a physical blow. Chloe was posing in skimpy lingerie, her wrists bound in handcuffs, while heavy chains wrapped around her neck and ankles. Little bells hung from her collar, jingling with her every movement. Her eyes were full of lust. “Jules, is this okay? I want to look beautiful for you.” Julian stood before her with a paintbrush, stepping closer to touch her bare skin. “Of course,” his voice was incredibly low and gravelly. “You are stunning, Chloe.” My pupils shrunk, my gaze turning dead cold. For ten years, I never knew Julian had this side to him. Maybe his passion had just never been meant for me. The pain washed over me like a freezing December wind. I grabbed the doorknob and slammed the door open. “Ah!” Chloe screamed, scrambling to cover herself, the chains clinking frantically. I walked straight in, grabbed a bucket of mixed acrylic paint from the table, and dumped the entire thing over her head. The chemical stench filled the room. Chloe stared at her paint-splattered, ruined body in absolute horror. “Sera Jenkins! Are you insane?!” Julian, paralyzed with shock, finally snapped out of it and grabbed my arm. “What is wrong with you?!” His shove sent me stumbling back. I crashed hard against the iron cage behind me, a dull thud echoing through the room. I looked up, staring straight into his eyes. Meeting my icy glare, Julian’s grip loosened. A flash of panic and guilt crossed his face. “This is just for my art,” he said, stepping forward to touch my bruised shoulder. “Don’t misunderstand. You went to art school too, you should understand this.” I took a step back, escaping his touch, and whispered, “Julian, you make me sick.” He froze, stunned. For ten years, I had never spoken a harsh word to him. Chloe stood up, the bells on her collar jingling loudly. “Sera, don’t blame Jules. He’s doing this for the upcoming National Art Exhibition. You’ve been with him for so long, don’t you know how important this award is to him? If I don’t mind posing like this, why do you?” I clenched my jaw, looked her up and down with utter disgust, and turned on my heel. Chloe froze. The look I gave her—like evaluating a cheap piece of meat—shattered her pride. She was just a college girl after all. Her eyes welled with tears of humiliation. I walked out, leaving behind a fuming Chloe and a silent Julian, whose fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were white. That evening, I was packing my passport and documents when Julian opened the bedroom door. His face was grim. “Sera, you went too far today.” I didn’t even look up, keeping my back turned to him. Seeing my silence, Julian assumed I was feeling guilty. “Chloe cried for hours today. She hasn’t even graduated yet. Don’t you think you were too cruel? Art requires sacrifice. Why are you acting so crazy lately?” A mocking smile touched my lips. I stood up and faced him. “What I do is none of your business. If you love this kind of ‘art,’ go ahead. I won’t stop you. And let me make this clear one last time: I am not marrying you.”

Julian choked on his breath, his annoyance clear. But beneath that annoyance was a deep, unnamable panic. “Sera, stop talking nonsense. We’ve been together for ten years. I know you love me too much to leave. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. The wedding is in five days. We both need to cool down.” “Sure,” I nodded indifferently. “Let’s cool down.” Julian stared at me for a long moment before turning to leave. But his hasty retreat looked more like fleeing. Three days later, the wedding designer called. “Sera, the new dress is ready.” “I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” I said quietly. Then, I dialed Chloe’s number. “Don’t you want to be Julian’s bride? Tomorrow at 8:00 AM, go to the bridal boutique on 5th Avenue.” Without waiting for her reply, I hung up. I knew she would go. And I knew she wouldn’t tell Julian. If she didn’t have ambition, she wouldn’t have slept with a committed man in the first place. Holding my passport and one-way ticket, I took one last look at the penthouse we had decorated together. I smiled mockingly. The next morning, at the bridal boutique. I pushed the door open and saw Chloe already waiting eagerly. I walked over, crossing my arms, and looked down at her. Chloe flinched, then stood up quickly, her eyes darting nervously. “Why did you ask me to come here?” I signaled the assistant to bring out the new wedding dress. I looked at Chloe, my smile not reaching my eyes. “Tomorrow is my wedding with Julian. You know that, right?” She clutched her purse, her face turning pale. “Yes… so what?” I handed her the garment bag, cutting her off. “Wear this tomorrow. You will be his bride.” Her eyes went wide. “What… what do you mean?” Without another word, I turned and walked out. Tomorrow’s wedding was supposed to be a grand networking event for Julian’s career. Now that I thought about it, he had always treated our wedding as a business transaction. Leaving the boutique, the grey clouds finally parted, and a ray of warm sunshine hit my face, washing away the gloom. I took a cab straight to the airport, threw my old SIM card into a trash can, and bought a ticket to Switzerland. Meanwhile, Julian stared at his phone. We hadn’t spoken in four days. He tugged at his tie, feeling incredibly frustrated. His thumb hovered over my contact name, but he ultimately locked his phone. Whatever. Tomorrow was the wedding anyway. She would show up. With that thought, he finally calmed down. Just then, Chloe walked into his apartment holding a large garment bag. Her face flushed when she saw him. “What’s that?” he asked casually. Thinking of my words, Chloe hid the bag slightly behind her back. “Nothing. Just a surprise for tomorrow. You’ll love it, Jules.” Julian pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply, but the strange emptiness in his chest remained unfilled. The next day. The wedding venue. Julian stood on the altar in a sharp black tux, looking at the prestigious guests, gallery owners, and his parents. An uneasy feeling clawed at his chest because he still hadn’t heard from me. The officiant spoke into the microphone, his voice booming. “And now, let us welcome our beautiful bride!” The crowd clapped enthusiastically as the grand doors slowly opened. Julian’s heart hammered in his chest. The lights dimmed, leaving only a spotlight on the woman walking down the aisle. But the moment Julian saw her face, his entire body went rigid. He rushed down the altar, his eyes turning bloodshot as he roared: “Chloe? What the hell are you doing here?!”

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Before going to sleep, I ran my hand down Logan’s smooth back. Suddenly, something felt off. “Babe, did you pop that pimple on your back yourself?” His body stiffened for a fraction of a second. Then, he let out a casual laugh. “Oh, I probably just scratched it in the shower. It’s nothing.” I stared at the brown heart drawn in iodine around the wound, complete with a neat signature next to it: *Bianca*. “Okay,” I murmured, keeping my voice flat, and didn’t say another word. Soon, his breathing turned heavy. I quietly slipped out of bed and headed down to the garage. Logan was always a very meticulous man. That pimple had been on his back for days. He was so terrified of infection that he wouldn’t even let me touch it. I had specifically bought a special ointment to put on him, but now, the pimple was suddenly gone. The iodine was painted perfectly in the shape of a heart. Even if Logan had eyes on the back of his head, he couldn’t have drawn that himself. The more I thought about it, the wider awake I became. Down in the dark garage, the blue light of the dashcam in Logan’s car flickered silently. My hands were freezing, and I almost didn’t have the strength to open the car door. I went through the dashcam footage. The most recent recording was from months ago. With Logan’s paranoid and cautious personality, he wouldn’t even drive the car if the dashcam was broken for a single day. My gut told me this was no accident. Returning to the bedroom, I couldn’t help but reach for his phone on the nightstand. The passcode was still my birthday. The lock screen was still the scenic photo we took during our trip to Switzerland years ago. But I felt like everything had changed. I took a deep breath and opened his Snapchat. The recent chats were all with mutual friends and colleagues. Not a single suspicious person. I frowned. Was I really overthinking this? Just then, a notification popped up. A girl named *Bianca 3.18* had just liked his latest Snap Story. I tapped on her chat profile. There was not a single message between them. “3.18” must be a nickname Logan added. If I guessed correctly, it was her birthday. I stared at the name for a long time. Suddenly, I noticed a gray bell icon with a slash through it next to her name. It was the mute icon… Why would you mute someone you’ve supposedly never exchanged a single word with? Logan suddenly rolled over and half-opened his eyes. “Chloe, what’s wrong?” I didn’t say anything. I just gently placed his phone back on the nightstand. But he woke up instantly. “Are you checking my phone?” He let out a huge yawn and pulled me into his arms. “So my wife actually checks my phone. I thought you didn’t care about me at all.” “Check it tomorrow morning, okay? I’m completely innocent. You can dig through whatever you want.” I gently wriggled out of his embrace. “No, I just grabbed the wrong phone by mistake.” The next morning, Logan generously handed his phone to me. He had a huge smirk on his face. “You know the passcode. Take your time.” Then he turned around and went into the kitchen to warm up some milk and toast. His calmness carried a hidden smugness—the confidence of a man who believed everything was under his absolute control. I didn’t touch his phone. Instead, I went back to the bedroom and grabbed an iodine-tipped cotton swab. “Logan, let me put some more iodine on your back. We don’t want it getting infected.” He paused, his eyes darting away. “No need to bother. It’s probably already healed.” He walked out of the kitchen with breakfast, pushing a plate of sunny-side-up eggs in front of me, smoothly changing the subject. “Eat up. It’s going to get cold.” I took two bites and immediately lost my appetite. “Logan, leave the car keys with me today. I need to go to the hospital for a check-up.” “Sure, just drive safely.” The second Logan stepped out of the door, I drove the car straight to the auto repair shop. I had them install a brand-new dashcam of the exact same model. Then, I called my sister. “Maya, I need you to help me look into Logan…” From the very beginning, Maya had disliked Logan. She thought he was just a social climber who married up, and we had fought bitterly over him back then. Hearing my request now, she couldn’t help but sigh. “Chloe, what did he do?” “I think he’s cheating.” Maya let out a cold laugh. “He dares? Don’t worry, Chloe. I’ll find someone to dig up everything on him.” Part of me hoped she would find nothing. But my gut told me this was just the tip of the iceberg.

After getting the new dashcam installed, I drove to the office. Since my eye surgery six months ago, this was the first time I had stepped foot in the company. I noticed a new boutique café had opened downstairs. My husband, who never drank coffee and only drank tea, had somehow become a regular there. Logan was in a meeting, but there were two coffee cups sitting on his desk. The paper cups had “The Frosted Cup” printed on them. The name felt strangely familiar. Instead of waiting for Logan to finish his meeting, I went downstairs and walked into the café. The owner was wearing a white cotton dress. When she bowed her head, her waist-length hair fell forward, covering half of her face. I glanced at the barista certification hanging on the wall. The name read: *Bianca Yuan*. So she was Bianca? My heart skipped a beat. I ordered a black coffee, found a corner seat, and quietly opened Twitter. Sure enough, due to the location tagging, Twitter’s algorithm quickly pushed the café owner’s profile to my feed. There was a video with tens of thousands of likes. Bianca was showing off half a wall filled with limited-edition designer toy figures. “Super cute, right? My husband bought all of these for me! There’s still half a wall left. Keep working hard, babe!” As fate would have it, those figures were the exact products our company manufactured. Several of them were extremely rare, out-of-print editions that even I couldn’t get my hands on. I clicked on her profile and saw a video she had posted just this morning of her brewing a pot of herbal tea. “With this hot and humid weather, my husband has been getting breakouts on his back. I’m brewing some herbal tea to clear out the toxins for him.” My fingers turned white from gripping my phone too tightly. My chest felt incredibly tight. The thought of her delicate hands caressing my husband’s back made me feel physically sick. The moment Logan’s meeting ended, he called me. “Sarah said you came to the office. Why didn’t you wait for me?” I clenched my fist and said, “I am waiting. I’m at the café downstairs. Come join me when you’re done.” His voice sounded frantic. “Why are you down there? Come up to the office. I’ll take you out for lunch.” “We have to go downstairs anyway. Let’s just meet at the café.” He let out a nervous cough. “Uh, Sarah just dropped a sudden meeting on me. Why don’t you wait in my office?” “No rush. See you downstairs.” Logan dragged his feet for thirty minutes before finally showing up, looking incredibly reluctant. The moment Bianca saw him, her face lit up with pure joy. But Logan pretended not to see her. He kept his head down and walked straight toward me. “Let’s go. I’m starving.” I smiled, turned toward the counter, and called out, “Excuse me, do you have any iced herbal tea? My husband doesn’t drink coffee. Any herbal drink will do.” Bianca froze. Within seconds, her eyes welled up with tears. She stammered, “No… we don’t have that.” Logan ignored the sheer heartbreak in her eyes and pushed me toward the door. “It’s a coffee shop. Why are you asking for herbal tea? You’re just making things difficult for her.” During lunch, Logan was completely distracted. He kept checking his phone every few seconds, his brow furrowed deeply. “Babe, what are you so busy with?” I casually dropped a piece of pickled jalapeño into his bowl. He was so glued to his screen that he shoved it into his mouth without looking. Immediately, he started coughing violently, his face turning bright red. He had to chug several glasses of water before he could breathe again. “Logan, don’t be greedy,” I said smoothly, wiping my mouth. “Trying to work while you eat… you might end up biting off more than you can chew.” Logan snapped his head up to glare at me, but I ignored him and unlocked my phone to text our HR director. [Hi Chloe, I wanted to discuss the Thanksgiving gift baskets. We picked out a few high-end vendors, but Logan said not to bother and told us to just order gift cards from the café downstairs.] [But we are a major startup now. Don’t you think we should order from a recognizable brand? The employees would appreciate it much more.] I let out a cold laugh. This man was actually using my company’s money to pamper his mistress. What did all our years of building this company together mean to him? [Send me the list of premium vendors. Our employees deserve the absolute best!]

Neither of us touched much of our food. I tossed the car keys to Logan and took a cab home by myself. Watching him hurry off to comfort Bianca, I felt completely numb. Maya had connections everywhere. It didn’t take long for her to send me a massive file. The moment I answered her call, she was screaming with rage. “Logan is an absolute piece of garbage!” “You built Dreamscape Media from the ground up with your own sweat and tears! Just because you took a step back due to your illness, he actually thinks he runs the place? He needs to look in the mirror! How dare he cheat on you!” “Maya… did he really…” My voice trailed off. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. “He’s incredibly cautious. I haven’t found the smoking gun yet, but he will slip up eventually.” I let out a long sigh. Deep down, I realized I was still holding onto a sliver of hope. “There’s a high-end ‘Best of Panama’ coffee bean auction tonight. I saw Bianca’s name on the guest list. With her tiny shop’s revenue, there’s no way she can afford to be there. Logan must be going with her.” “I’ll send you the address and the details. If you need me to back you up, just say the word.” The auction hall was packed. The event was even being livestreamed to millions of viewers online. Standing in a quiet corner, I instantly spotted Bianca in the VIP section. Logan was sitting right next to her. They were whispering and giggling together. Clearly, their lunchtime drama was already forgotten. Bianca’s smile was sweet, and she even grabbed Logan’s hand in excitement at one point. I pulled out my phone and called my private banker. “Freeze my husband’s secondary card. Right now.” The highlight of the evening was the bidding for this year’s exclusive Panama Nido7 coffee beans. The starting bid was a staggering fifteen thousand dollars per kilogram, with the total package valued at over three hundred thousand dollars. The auctioneer was on stage passionately describing the flavor profile. I just shook my head. At that price, they weren’t drinking coffee; they were drinking liquidated cash. The bidding started, and Bianca immediately raised her paddle. “One hundred and sixty thousand!” “One hundred and seventy thousand,” a calm voice countered from the back. It turned out she wasn’t the only one wanting to flaunt their wealth. After a few rounds, Bianca pouted. She clung to Logan’s arm and whined, “Babe, he’s bullying me.” Logan looked at her with pure indulgence. “If you behave tonight, I’ll go up to two hundred thousand.” Blushing, she kissed him on the cheek and raised her paddle. “Two hundred thousand!” The other bidders immediately backed down. “Bianca is so lucky! Her husband spoils her to death!” “He didn’t even blink at spending three hundred grand!” Congratulations echoed through the room. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. The media rushed forward to interview Bianca. She tucked her long hair behind her ear and spoke with practiced elegance. “Nido7 is more than just coffee. If you’ve ever been to Panama and seen the mist-covered estates, the elegant white blossoms, and the dew-kissed fruit, you’d understand what a dream it is.” “I am incredibly grateful to the most important person in my life. He has always supported my dreams.” “I’d also like to take this opportunity to announce that next year, The Frosted Cup will expand to thirty locations nationwide. We will become leaders in this industry.” The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. She looked at Logan, her eyes brimming with love and adoration. Logan smiled back warmly. “As long as you’re happy, baby.” As the applause died down, I slowly stood up and began to clap. My slow, mocking applause instantly drew annoyed looks from the crowd. Logan frowned and turned around. The moment his eyes met mine, he visibly paled.

Everyone’s eyes fell on me. The heavy sarcasm in my applause was impossible to miss. Sensing a juicy scandal, a reporter quickly shouted: “Ma’am, are you unhappy with the results of the auction?” I smiled and looked directly at Logan. He instantly let go of Bianca’s hand and crossed his arms defensively. Bianca quickly looked down, grabbing her purse as if trying to flee. “I was just wondering,” I said loudly, “what happens if Bianca can’t actually pay for those beans?” Both of them snapped their heads up, glaring at me with pure venom. The host, trying to prevent a scene, quickly intervened. “Ma’am, if you have questions about the bidding process, please ask privately. Do not disrupt the event.” But my question had already sparked whispers in the crowd. “Why bid if you can’t pay? That’s so embarrassing.” “Exactly. Even though The Frosted Cup is a nobody shop, she clearly has a sugar daddy. If she can’t pay, her husband definitely will.” “She’s just a hater trying to make a scene. How pathetic.” I cleared my throat and said calmly, “Bianca, your café has been open for six months. Your monthly revenue is barely three thousand dollars, but your rent is twenty-five hundred. Considering other operating costs, you’ve been losing money every single month, haven’t you?” Having her secrets exposed in public made Bianca’s chest heave with anger. “What does that have to do with you?” I nodded. “Normally, how much money you lose is none of my business. But I am genuinely curious—with that kind of business model, how do you expect to pay for a three-hundred-thousand-dollar order of coffee beans?” Bianca’s face flushed red. She tugged at Logan’s sleeve, tears of humiliation pooling in her eyes. But Logan stood there like a statue, completely frozen. I pressed on relentlessly. “What’s the point of pulling my husband’s sleeve? His annual salary at my company is only one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Were you planning to make him spend two years of his salary just to buy you some coffee beans?” The crowd went wild. “And here I thought it was some high-end romance. Turns out it’s just a cheap sugar daddy funding his side chick!” “That home-wrecker is so shameless! Flaunting her affair on a live broadcast!” “I knew she didn’t look like real money. No wonder she kept bidding so aggressively.” Bianca stood there helplessly, looking like a fragile white flower trapped in a storm. With tear-filled eyes, she looked at Logan. “Just go… you can’t beat her. I can’t bear to watch everyone attack you because of me. I really can’t.” Logan’s eyelashes fluttered violently. His body tensed, and finally, losing all control over his emotions, he pulled her tightly into his arms. He gently wiped her tears. “You are not a home-wrecker. I said you aren’t, so you aren’t.” A sharp pain shot through my chest. For her, he was willing to throw away every last shred of his dignity. “Logan,” I called out softly. “Don’t you think you should figure out how you’re going to pay first?” An auction staff member ran out, looking panicked. “Miss Yuan, the payment card you provided earlier… it’s been declined.” Logan glared at me with an intensity that screamed pure hatred. The girl in his arms whimpered, “Forget it, Logan. We can’t beat her. I don’t want the deposit back.” But his pride was utterly shattered, driving him to madness. “Don’t worry, Bianca. I will secure the funds before the deadline. These beans are yours.”

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In the second year of my marriage to the mafia boss, I ran into Ethan Vance again. It was on the exact same tropical island. He had just spent millions to buy a luxury resort hotel as a gift for his wife. The moment his eyes fell on me, his entire face froze. “Summer… about what happened back then, I had no choice.” “You know that if I hadn’t saved Serena first, she would have died…” He was talking about that day. The day when we were held at gunpoint, and the kidnappers forced him to choose between me and my stepsister, Serena. Without a single second of hesitation, he chose Serena. And I was left behind, dragged away by those monsters to be tortured and ruined. I offered him a faint, bloodless smile. “It’s all in the past.” I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist, his eyes instantly turning bloodshot. “Did those men… did they hurt you? Summer, I’m so sorry. I swear I don’t care about your past. I want to take care of you again…” I yanked my hand back and casually flicked my left hand, letting the massive blue sapphire ring on my ring finger catch the sunlight. “You’re overthinking it, Ethan. My husband and I are doing amazing.”

Ethan froze. The pity in his eyes only deepened. “Summer, you don’t have to act strong in front of me.” “The media covered everything back then. They took photos of you… being degraded like that. I know you suffered from severe depression afterward.” His eyes Rimmed with red, his lips trembling slightly. “It’s my fault. For the past two years, I was so focused on taking care of Serena that I couldn’t find you in time—” “But it’s not too late!” “If you don’t mind, I can set you up in a place. I’ll take care of you, just like I take care of Serena…” Serena. The very same stepsister who had mixed my mother’s ashes into baking flour to make a pizza. A mocking smile touched my lips. “No, thank you. I’m doing perfectly fine.” Realizing how awkward the silence had become after three years apart, Ethan desperately tried to find something else to say. Right then, the chef at the small Italian bistro called my number. I walked inside, picked up my plate of rustic spaghetti pomodoro, and sat at an outdoor table to eat. Even after all these years, this was still my favorite comfort food. Simply because the chef here made this pasta taste exactly like the one my mother used to make for me. Maybe the chef added a bit too much black pepper today. It burned my throat, making tears well up in my eyes. “Summer—” Ethan called out. I realized he hadn’t left. He was standing there like a statue, staring at me. He stepped closer, his gaze falling onto my cheap plate. The pity in his eyes was practically overflowing now. “You’re eating at a cheap diner like this?” He scanned my casual clothes, and I instantly realized what he was thinking. He thought I was living in poverty. “I’m so sorry. I should have never betrayed you back then.” His voice was thick with guilt. “But regret won’t change the past… I know you’ve had a miserable couple of years. Let me take responsibility for you. Come back to New York with me, okay?” Ethan reached out excitedly to grab my hand again. I stiffened and pulled back. “No. You know Serena and I are mortal enemies. We can never live under the same roof.” Ethan froze, his hand hanging awkwardly in the air. He knew better than anyone the deep, blood-stained hatred between Serena and me. If Victoria and Serena hadn’t forced their way into our lives, my mother wouldn’t have died in that staged car crash. If Serena hadn’t framed me over and over again, my father would have never kicked me out of the family. Even now, I still had ugly, jagged scars on my back. Those were from the broken glass shards Serena had intentionally hidden inside my bedsheets. “Summer, I…” Before he could finish, his phone buzzed. Serena’s whiny, sweet voice echoed from the speaker. “Babe, where are you? Did you finish buying that pearl boutique for me yet?” “My boat is landing in five minutes. Come pick me up.” Ethan hung up, looking at me with a conflicted expression. Before leaving, he shoved a sleek black business card into my hand. “Summer, I’m the one who failed you three years ago.” “If you change your mind, call me. I have a private penthouse in the suburbs. I can keep you there—” “Serena will never find out.” Before I could even speak, he hurried away. How hilarious. Was he trying to make me his secret mistress? Offering to make Julian Mercer’s woman a side-chick… Ethan must have a death wish. I shook my head, tossed the card into a nearby trash can, and went back to my pasta. Leo, the bistro owner, walked out, wiping his hands on his apron with a warm smile. “Mrs. Mercer, did you know that young man?” I smiled, trying to think of a casual answer. Leo leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You should stay away from him, ma’am. I saw it when he turned around—he has ‘The Pit’ brand on his neck.” “You know what that means? He started as a slave. Anyone who survives that place is ruthless to the bone.” I set my fork down and looked down, letting out a soft laugh. “I know.” “He was actually my personal slave for five years.” I had saved his life more times than I could count. He had sworn to love me forever, promising he would give his very life for me. Yet, when forced to choose, he chose my mother’s murderer without a second thought. The slave who left me to the kidnappers.

Leo’s curiosity was instantly piqued. Abandoning his kitchen, he pulled up a wooden stool and sat down to chat. “Mrs. Mercer, you were only eighteen five years ago, right? How did you have the guts to go into ‘The Pit’?” “That’s the most notorious, terrifying underground market in New York. How were you not scared to death at such a young age?” Of course I was terrified. But back then, I had no other choice. Five years ago, to find the truth behind my mother’s death, I snuck into the black market. I heard that fifty thousand dollars could buy a solid lead. Anything deeper would cost much more. I wanted to investigate if the car crash—the scene of which my father had rushed to clean up—was premeditated murder. I didn’t find the lead, but I found Ethan. Back then, he was just an unwanted orphan. A bruised, battered little slave being pushed around. The heavy iron chains around his ankles had rubbed his skin raw, leaving bloody rings. Wealthy buyers stood around, laughing hysterically as they watched him fight three wild, starving dogs to the death. He was covered in horrific bite marks, but his eyes still gleamed like a feral wolf. That look hooked me instantly. I spent a hundred thousand dollars that day to buy him. The trafficker took the cash and tossed the heavy chain into my hands. “He’s wild and vicious, girl. Keep him chained for a few months, or he’ll rip your throat out.” Once we got out of “The Pit,” Ethan glared at me, tense and guarded. Seeing the raw terror and defensiveness in his eyes made my heart ache. It reminded me of my own miserable situation. I reached down and unlocked his chains. “What’s your name?” “Eth… Ethan,” he rasped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Master.” “Don’t call me master. I’m Summer Sterling.” I tossed him a sandwich. “From now on, you follow me. I’ll keep you alive, and I’ll make sure you live like a human being.” He devoured the food, the wild guard in his eyes slowly melting into a bright, devoted light. Over the next three years, I bought him Rolexes. I sent him to Ivy League business schools. I even handed him half of the real estate properties my grandfather had left me to manage. Just like in those cliché romance novels. We fell in love. I watched him reveal a terrifying genius for business. Every investment he touched multiplied tenfold. My assets grew rapidly, and new branch companies opened one after another. By day, we were the ultimate power couple in the business world. By night, he turned into a hungry wolf, devouring me with fierce passion. Countless times, he would hold me so tight it hurt, whispering in my ear: “Summer, once I build my empire, I’m going to marry you in the grandest wedding New York has ever seen.” I believed him. Until the day the kidnappers threw me into that abandoned warehouse, pressing a cold barrel against my temple. They demanded ten million dollars from Ethan to release me. Ethan arrived, pale and panicked, carrying a duffel bag of cash. “Let her go!” he roared. The kidnapper laughed, pointing to the corner where a shivering Serena sat. She was wearing a white dress identical to mine, her face stained with tears. “Ethan, please, save me…” she sobbed. “Mr. Vance, you can only take one,” the kidnapper sneered, patting my cheek. “Choose your girlfriend, and we’ll send this pretty little stepsister of hers straight to ‘The Pit’. The beasts over there love innocent girls like her.” “But if you choose Serena, your girlfriend stays with us.” Ethan’s eyes darted frantically between me and Serena. Serena suddenly cried out, “Ethan, save me! Summer is so strong, she can find a way to escape on her own!” I stared at Ethan. He had once told me that my eyes looked like the stars, and he would never let them lose their light. I thought the choice was obvious. But Ethan only hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking. “I choose Serena.” The kidnapper whistled, untying Serena’s ropes. She threw herself into Ethan’s arms, turning her head to flash me a smug, victorious smirk. He lifted her up to carry her out. I sat frozen on the cold concrete, my brain unable to process when or how they had started sleeping together behind my back. “Ethan, don’t go…” I dragged myself forward, grabbing the hem of his pants, begging. Ethan stopped. He looked back at me, his eyes filled with a heavy, painful sorrow. “Summer, I’m sorry. I have to do this.” “Serena is too innocent and fragile. She won’t survive a single night in ‘The Pit’.” “Wait for me. As soon as I get her to safety, I’ll come back for you!” But he never got the chance. Right after he left, the man whose very name made the New York underworld tremble walked in. Mr. Mercer. Julian walked over and lifted my chin with his leather-gloved hand. “Still haven’t figured it out yet?” “Summer, I told you he wasn’t a man you could rely on.” He waved his hand, and his bodyguard handed me a thick stack of photos. “If you don’t believe me, see for yourself. These are all the proofs of his betrayal.” The photos scattered before my eyes, stabbing straight into my heart. Julian’s deep, smooth voice continued to echo in the quiet warehouse. “While he was swearing his undying loyalty to you, he was already sleeping with your enemy, Serena.” “He says he loves you. He bought you a million-dollar diamond necklace on a whim, but he never spent two months hand-writing a hundred love letters for you.” “But Serena got those.” “Not just a hundred love letters, but birthday gifts for every single year of her life from age one to twenty-three. He prepared all of them for her.” “He even snuck into your stepsister’s bedroom in the middle of the night while you were fast asleep next door.” “And now, in the face of real danger, he abandoned you without a second thought.” “Summer, are you still blind?” I didn’t say a word. Giant tears rolled down my cheeks. Julian leaned down, gently kissing the tears away. “You should choose me.” As I finished the story, my plate was clean. Leo was staring at me, his jaw practically on the floor. “That Ethan Vance is supposed to be some legendary Wall Street prodigy, and he’s actually such a gutless bastard? What happened next?” I looked up at him with a half-smile. “If you keep asking, Mr. Mercer might just shut your bistro down and kick you off the island.” As I spoke, I looked past his shoulder. A tall, imposing man in a tailored charcoal suit was walking toward us. He held out his hand to me. “Gossiping about my wife’s past, are we?”

Leo immediately offered a nervous, placating smile. “Just friendly banter, Mr. Mercer! Please don’t close my shop. Your lovely wife loves my cooking too much.” Julian waved him off, and Leo quickly scurried back inside. “Is everything taken care of?” Julian pulled me onto his lap right there on the patio. Even after two years of marriage, he was still as clingy as a high schooler, refusing to let me go. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling my scent. “Summer, you can never leave me.” I laughed, swatting his shoulder. “We’re in public, behave yourself.” “I’m your wife. Where would I go?” “And seriously, is the island transfer complete?” Two months ago, Julian had bought this entire tropical island to give to me as a birthday present. We had been too busy to visit, but we finally carved out two weeks to vacation here and manage the property. Julian wrapped his arms around my waist, nodding gently. “Everything is finalized. Everyone on this island knows you are the sole owner.” “As for that pearl boutique Ethan Vance just bought… do you want me to kick him out? Just say the word, and I’ll have his lease terminated.” I looked out at the turquoise ocean in the distance. “No need. He doesn’t matter anymore.” This was my second year married to Julian. And the third year since Ethan had abandoned me. It had taken me a whole year to heal from the betrayal, to learn to love Julian, and finally marry him. Now, Ethan Vance was nothing but a ghost from a past life. Earlier, Ethan had mentioned that Serena had recently developed an obsession with rare pearls. So, he had personally come to this island to buy her a boutique. By now, Ethan had probably brought Serena to the island. She was draped in designer brands, looking nothing like the sweet, innocent girl from three years ago. Instead, she dripped with superficial arrogance. As she looked around the luxury shopping district, her eyes suddenly locked onto a spot across the street. “Babe, look at that woman. Doesn’t she look like my stepsister?” “Didn’t you say the kidnappers dumped her on some desolate island three years ago? All those media scandals about her back then must have been true! Do you think she’s been working as a cheap hooker here for the last three years?” “No wonder she refused to go with you earlier. She probably knows she’s been ruined by too many men…” On their way here, Ethan had already confessed to running into me. He thought his wife was kind and generous enough to welcome her sister back. But he never expected to see me sitting on another man’s lap in broad daylight, looking completely flushed. This was not the Summer Sterling he knew! Ethan’s eyes flared red, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white beneath his sleeves. “I have to go save her.” Serena’s face twisted in anger, and she grabbed his arm tightly. “Are you crazy? What do you think you’re doing?” “This is a private island. We don’t know anyone here. Do you even know who that man is?” “What if he’s someone we can’t afford to mess with? You want to ruin us?” Ethan struggled to pull away, but Serena held onto him with desperate strength. Julian tightened his grip around my waist, his fingers tracing my hip. “Sweetheart, I just found out this resort has a private villa with an outdoor heated pool. Want to go try it?” Only after marrying him did I realize how incredibly passionate—and shamelessly romantic—Julian could be. Every time we went somewhere new, he always wanted to play, leaving me utterly exhausted. But I could never say no to this giant, handsome devil when he started teasing me. I sighed softly, running a hand through his dark hair. “Fine, fine. Let’s go.” Soon, we got into our armored SUV, and the driver sped off toward the villa. The villa was indeed breathtaking. The massive marble tub was already filled with warm water and fresh red rose petals. “Summer…” Julian’s voice grew husky. He pinned me against the wall, his lips dropping onto mine in a deep, intoxicating kiss. Just as his hands slid down to unbutton my dress, a loud, frantic knocking banged against the wooden door. “Mr. Mercer! Please, let Summer go!”

My heart skipped a beat. It was Ethan’s voice. Didn’t he go to pick up Serena? Why the hell was he here? With our romantic mood completely ruined, Julian’s face darkened instantly. “Who is that?” “I’ll handle it.” I pressed a hand against Julian’s chest to soothe him, then walked over to pull the door open. The moment Ethan saw me, he reached out frantically to grab me. “Summer, come with me!” I didn’t budge. I coldly slapped his hand away. “Mr. Vance, didn’t you go to meet your wife? Why are you so obsessed with stalking me?” “I can’t just stand by and watch you get abused by these criminals!” Ethan’s eyes were bloodshot, staring at me with desperate intensity. He looked consumed by guilt and regret. “Three years ago, I made a mistake.” “I thought that if I got Serena to safety first, I’d have enough time to come back for you. I didn’t know those monsters would… would share those horrific photos online!” “I tried to find you afterward. But no matter how much money or power I used, I couldn’t trace you.” “I finally found a medical record of your depression treatment at a private clinic, but by the time I got there, you had already been transferred…” By the end of his speech, his voice had degraded into a pathetic whimper. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through these past three years.” “I was wrong, Summer. Come with me. Please, give me a chance to redeem myself…” I let out a lazy, amused laugh. “Come with you? Mr. Vance, if memory serves me right, you are a married man.” Two years ago, Serena got pregnant, and Ethan married her. They threw a massive, multi-million-dollar wedding in New York. It was the talk of the town. That night, I had stood at the top of Julian’s penthouse, watching the custom fireworks spell out “I love Serena” across the night sky. Panic flashed through Ethan’s eyes, and he stammered. “But Summer, you said you loved me.” “You said we would be together forever, no matter what. Five years ago, when you bought me out of ‘The Pit,’ you told me you never saw me as a slave. You said I was your family. Did you forget?” I stared at his desperate face, feeling absolutely nothing. Those memories felt so distant they might as well have belonged to someone else. Julian cleared his throat behind me, pulling me back into his firm, warm chest. “Mr. Vance. What a pleasant surprise.” “You barge into my room and keep staring at my wife. Do you value your life on this island?” The cold reality seemed to wash over Ethan. “Mr. Mercer.” “I apologize for the intrusion. But Summer is… my friend. I’m taking her with me.” Julian raised an eyebrow, amused. “Just a friend? And why on earth would I let you take her?” Ethan closed his eyes, his knees buckling as he slammed heavily onto the floor, kneeling. “She means everything to me.” “If you let her go, I will sign over twenty-five percent of the Vance Group’s shares to you…” “I have no interest in your petty shares,” Julian cut him off. He played with a strand of my hair, looking down at Ethan like a predator watching a dying rabbit. “But if you want me to let her go, we can make a deal.” “Let’s see what you’re willing to pay.” Ethan looked determined, his expression hardening. “Anything I own. If you want it, it’s yours.” “I only have one condition: set Summer free.” Julian’s eyes turned dangerous. I sighed inwardly. Julian was a deeply possessive man; hearing another man claim his wife was probably driving him insane. He pinched my waist lightly under his hand—a silent, jealous punishment. “My, my. It seems Mr. Vance is truly devoted to my Summer.” “But I don’t care for material things.” “How about this, Ethan? If you want to take her, I want you to—” “Shoot yourself in both knees.” Ethan snapped his head up, his face filled with utter disbelief. “Too scared?” Julian mocked. “I’ll do it!” Ethan spat. The next second, Ethan pulled a compact handgun from his waistband. He pressed the cold barrel directly against his right kneecap. “Mr. Mercer, a man of your status shouldn’t break his word. Two shots, and you let Summer go.” I stared, momentarily stunned. He looked up at me, his eyes completely bloodshot. “Summer, watch closely. This first shot is what I owe you.” BANG. Blood sprayed instantly across the pristine white rug. Ethan let out a strangled groan, cold sweat pouring down his pale face. “And the second one,” he wheezed through gritted teeth. He shifted the gun to his left knee. BANG. The sound of shattering bone was sickeningly clear in the quiet room. Sitting on the sofa, the amusement in Julian’s eyes had completely vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. “I see your sincerity, Mr. Vance.” Ethan collapsed onto the floor, weak and trembling, but he forced himself to look up at Julian. “Please… let her go.” I couldn’t stand this pathetic circus any longer. I stepped forward, away from Julian. “Let me go?” “Ethan, are you completely delusional?” I leaned down and draped my arm over Julian’s shoulder in a deeply intimate gesture. “I am Mr. Mercer’s wife. Asking a husband to let his own wife go with you… don’t you think you’re being utterly ridiculous?” Ethan’s head snapped up. The last drop of color drained from his face. “What did you say? You’re… Julian Mercer’s wife?”

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“Mortgage payment alert: $1,500 has been debited. Account holder: Sarah Miller.” I stared at the pop-up notification on my husband’s phone. Sarah Miller. His ex-wife’s name. “$1,500?” I held the screen right up to his face. “Who is this going to?” Mark’s face drained of color. “Chloe, look, I can explain…” “Explain what?” I cut him off. “We’ve been married for five years. You told me your monthly salary was only $2,500, and you’ve been giving me a measly $400 a month for household expenses!” I let out a bitter, lifeless laugh. “Where did the rest of it go? No, wait—this text says $1,500. How much do you actually make?” He didn’t say a word. I looked at him, my heart turning to ice. It took five years of marriage for me to finally realize that my husband had been secretly paying his ex-wife’s mortgage. I stared at that text message for three whole minutes. “Mortgage payment alert: $1,500 has been debited. Account holder: Sarah Miller. Remaining principal: $180,000. Remaining term: 15 years.” Sarah Miller. Mark’s ex-wife. The woman he divorced six years ago. “Chloe, baby, please listen to me…” Mark reached out, trying to grab his phone back. I took a step back, keeping it out of his reach. “Listen to what?” “There’s… there’s a reason for this.” “What reason?” He shut his mouth. I looked closely at the man standing in front of me. We had been married for five years. We had a three-year-old son, Toby. I honestly thought we were a team. A real family. “Mark,” I said, my voice deadpan. “Tell me the truth. How much do you actually make every month?” “Two… two thousand five hundred.” “Liar.” I quickly unlocked his phone and opened his mobile banking app. There was an automatic monthly transfer set up on his payroll account. On the 15th of every month, $1,500 was automatically wired to Sarah Miller. The setup date: March 2019. March 2019. We got married in February 2019. Which meant that from the very second month of our marriage, he had been paying his ex-wife’s mortgage. “Five years,” I said. My voice sounded incredibly calm, almost detached. “It’s been five years.” Mark kept his head down. “How much total?” He didn’t answer. So, I did the math myself. $1,500 times 12 is $18,000. $18,000 times 5 is $90,000. Ninety thousand dollars. “Ninety thousand dollars,” I whispered the number out loud. “You paid ninety thousand dollars for her mortgage.” Mark finally looked up. “Chloe, I owed her.” I froze. “What did you just say?” “When we got divorced, it was my fault. I ruined things,” he said. “We bought that house together, but it was registered under her name. I walked away with nothing during the divorce, but I promised her I’d help pay off the mortgage.” “You promised to pay her mortgage?” “Yes.” “Then why did you marry me?!” He went silent. “Mark, why did you marry me?!” My voice finally cracked, rising in anger. “If you felt so guilty, if you wanted to pay her damn mortgage, why did you drag me into this? Why did you force me to pinch pennies and live like a beggar?!” “Chloe…” “Four hundred dollars!” I screamed, cutting him off. “You gave me four hundred dollars a month for groceries and bills! You made me budget every single cent! I had to buy the cheapest groceries, and I had to wait for clearance sales just to get clothes for our son!” I let out another dry laugh. “I actually believed you made almost nothing. I thought we were just struggling. I never complained once!” “I know…” “You know nothing!” I glared at him. “Do you have any idea what I went through these past five years? When my mom was in the hospital and I asked you for $1,000, you told me we had absolutely no money! I had to borrow it from my friends!” “That time… I was really tight on cash.” “Tight on cash?” I laughed so hard my throat hurt. “You were throwing fifteen hundred dollars at your ex-wife every month, and you told me you were tight on cash?!” Mark stopped talking. The living room went dead silent. I stood there, looking at the man I had lived with for five years. His face suddenly felt completely foreign. “What is your actual monthly salary?” I demanded. He bit his lip. “Answer me!” “…Five thousand five hundred.” $5,500. Not $2,500. $5,500. He was making $5,500 a month. He gave his ex $1,500, gave me $400, and kept the remaining $3,600. What did he do with that $3,600? I tapped back into his banking app and opened his secondary account. The balance: $8,500. I scrolled through his transaction history from the past year: steam game top-ups, expensive bourbon, high-end dinners, golf club fees… I locked the phone and tossed it onto the kitchen counter. “Mark.” “Yeah?” “I need to be alone.” I turned around and walked into the bedroom. As the door clicked shut, I heard his muffled voice from the hallway: “Chloe, please, we need to talk…” I didn’t reply. I lay down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Five years of marriage. Every single cent I had saved by skipping meals and buying cheap groceries… He had taken it all and handed it to another woman to pay off her house. Tears finally spilled over and ran down my temples. But I didn’t make a sound. I was only thinking about one thing: What do I do next?

The next morning, Mark called in sick to work. He got up early and made breakfast. “Chloe, eat something,” he said, standing at the bedroom door holding a fresh cup of coffee and toast. “We need to talk.” I didn’t move. “Chloe…” “Mark,” I sat up, looking at him coldly. “Why did you and Sarah actually get divorced?” He blinked, caught off guard. “…We just weren’t compatible.” “Be specific.” He set the coffee and toast down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. “We had just bought the house back then, and the pressure was insane. She got pregnant, and I didn’t take good care of her. After the baby was born, I was always busy with work and barely home. She had to raise the kid alone and went through a lot.” “So you cheated on her?” “No!” he immediately denied it. “I didn’t cheat. It was… we just fought too much. She was the one who filed for divorce.” “She filed?” “Yes.” He stared at the floor. “During the divorce, she didn’t ask for alimony. She just wanted the house. I felt so guilty for ruining the family that I agreed to pay the mortgage.” “Did your parents know about this?” He nodded slowly. I laughed. “So your entire family knew, and I was the only fool kept in the dark?” “Chloe, I was just afraid you’d overthink it…” “Overthink it?” I stared at him. “Mark, do you really think I’m just ‘overthinking’ this?” He didn’t say a word. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash my face. Through the mirror, I saw him follow me, standing right outside the door. “Chloe, I know I messed up. But my feelings for you are real. I married you because I love you.” “You love me?” I spun around to face him. “You love me, so you lied to me for five years?” “I didn’t lie to you. I just… didn’t mention it.” “Didn’t mention it?” I scoffed. “You told me you made $2,500 when you made $5,500. You told me we were broke while you sent $1,500 to your ex every month. You call that ‘not mentioning it’?” “I…” “Mark, let me ask you a question.” “Go ahead.” “How old is your kid with your ex now?” His face shifted nervously. “…Eight.” “Eight years old,” I nodded. “You divorced six years ago, which means he was two back then. Now he’s eight.” “Yeah.” “In these past six years, how many times have you actually seen him?” He went quiet for a long time. “…Not many.” “How many is ‘not many’?” “…Maybe two or three times a year.” “Two or three times a year,” I repeated. “Mark, you pay her mortgage because you ‘owe’ her. But what about your own son? How much do you owe him? How many times have you actually been a father to him?” He remained silent. “Or maybe…” I glared at him. “It’s not about guilt at all. Is there another reason?” “What other reason?” “You know exactly what I mean.” I pushed past him and walked out of the bathroom. He chased after me. “Chloe, you’re making things up. We don’t even talk anymore.” “You don’t talk?” I stopped in my tracks. “Then what’s that locked, encrypted photo album on your phone?” His face turned instantly pale. “You… you saw it?” “No, I didn’t,” I said. “But I really want to see it now.” He stood there like a statue. I held out my hand. “Show me.” “Chloe…” “Mark, if you don’t show me right now, I’ll just assume the two of you are still sleeping together.” He hesitated for a few agonizing seconds. Then, slowly, he pulled out his phone and unlocked the private album. There were over a hundred photos inside. All of them were of a young boy, tracing his growth from a toddler to an eight-year-old. “This is… your son, Leo?” “Yes,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “She… she sends me updates regularly.” I scrolled down. Below the photos were screenshots of their text messages. *“Mark, Leo is walking now.”* *“Mark, Leo started preschool today.”* *“Mark, Leo is asking when you’re coming to see him.”* The most recent text was from two months ago: *“Mark, Leo has a really high fever. I can’t handle this alone at the hospital.”* Below that was Mark’s reply: *“I’m on a business trip right now, but I’ll come over as soon as I get back.”* I slowly put the phone down. “Mark.” “Yeah?” “You told me you guys don’t talk.” He hung his head. “You call this not talking?” “It’s… it’s only about the kid.” “Only about the kid?” I let out a mocking laugh. “Mark, do you remember last week when Toby had a fever? I called you crying, and you told me you were in an important meeting and hung up on me.” His face twisted with shame. “You’re so quick to care for your ex-wife’s kid, but what about our son?” “That’s not true…” “It is true!” I snapped, cutting him off. “It is absolutely true, Mark. You know it.” I grabbed my purse. “Where are you going?” “To work.” “Chloe…” “Mark, I need some space to think. We’ll talk tonight.” I slammed the door behind me. Once I reached the apartment gate, I pulled out my phone and called my best friend, Rachel. “Rachel, do you know anyone who can pull property records for me?” “What’s going on?” she asked, instantly sensing the tension. “I need to check the deed on Mark’s ex-wife’s house. I want to see whose name is actually on it.” The line went quiet for a few seconds. “Chloe… did you find something?” “Yeah.” “Son of a bitch,” Rachel cursed. “I’m on it. Give me an hour.” After hanging up, I stood by the curb. The cool spring wind blew across my face, but I couldn’t feel it. One terrifying thought kept looping in my mind: If that house is solely in the ex-wife’s name… Then for the last five years… Have I been working myself to the bone just to buy her a house?

By the afternoon, Rachel texted me. “I found it. The house is on the Westside. 1,300 square feet. Registered owner: Sarah Miller.” Sarah Miller. His ex-wife. “What about the mortgage details?” I typed back. “Monthly payment is $1,600. It’s been active for six years. The primary borrower is Sarah, but there’s a co-signer.” “Who?” “Mark Harrison.” I stared at the screen. Co-signer. Which meant he wasn’t just “helping her out.” He was legally obligated to pay it. “There’s more,” Rachel texted. “The house was bought in 2017 for $450,000. Down payment was $120,000. Guess where the down payment came from?” “Tell me.” “A wire transfer of $60,000 came directly from Mark’s account to Sarah’s, marked ‘Down Payment Contribution.’” I went numb. “$60,000?” “Yep. March 2017. Mark wired $60,000 to Sarah.” 2017. They weren’t divorced yet back then. And I didn’t even know Mark existed. “Chloe, are you okay?” “I’m fine.” “Do you want to come over to my place? Let’s grab a drink.” “No, it’s fine. I just need to sit with this for a bit.” I hung up and sat down on a bench outside my office building. My mind was a chaotic mess. A $120,000 down payment. A $1,600 monthly mortgage. Paid for six years. This meant Mark had funded the down payment and had been paying the mortgage on this house the entire time. But the deed only had his ex-wife’s name on it. And during the divorce, his ex “didn’t ask for anything but the house.” Unbelievable. “Didn’t ask for anything.” Except for a house that he bought and was still paying for. I started laughing out loud. A few passersby glanced at me like I was crazy. Honestly, I felt crazy. I was laughing at how incredibly stupid I had been. For five years, I thought I married a decent, hardworking, simple guy. Sure, he didn’t make much, but he was stable. He gave me $400 a month for expenses, and even though it was tight, we made it work. Never in my wildest dreams did I think… He was financially supporting another woman. No, not just any woman. His ex-wife. What was this? Emotional cheating? Financial infidelity? Or had he simply never left his first marriage? My phone buzzed. It was Mark. I picked up. “What?” “Chloe, where are you?” “At work.” “My mom wants to come over for dinner tonight. Can you…” “Mark,” I cut him off. “Yeah?” “Your mother knows you’re paying Sarah’s mortgage, doesn’t she?” There was a long silence on the other end. “…Yes.” “And what does she say about it?” “She… she thinks that since I broke up the family, it’s only fair that I pay.” “Fair?” I laughed bitterly. “Mark, you paid $60,000 for the down payment on that house. Did you know I found out about that?” He didn’t say anything. “You knew, didn’t you?” “…Yes.” “And you still claim you ‘owe’ her? You paid the down payment, you pay the monthly mortgage, the house is in her name, she gets the house in the divorce, and you keep paying—how on earth do you owe her?!” “Chloe, you don’t understand…” “What don’t I understand?!” “I… I was the one who initiated the divorce.” I froze. “You initiated it? You told me she divorced you!” He stayed quiet for a painful amount of time. “…I lied to you.” “What else did you lie about?” “I initiated the divorce because… because I had already met you.” My head started spinning. “Mark, say that again.” “I met you first, and then… then I filed for divorce.” “So… you cheated on her with me?” “No, it wasn’t cheating! We were just… we were just talking! Nothing physical happened!” “Mark.” “Yeah?” “You told me you divorced because of ‘compatibility.’ You told me she dumped you. You told me you never cheated.” I took a deep breath to steady my shaking voice. “How many more lies have you told me?” “Chloe, I…” “Tell your mother not to come tonight,” I said coldly. “I don’t want to see anyone.” I hung up. I sat on the bench, watching the traffic go by. Only one thought consumed me: *Mark, who the hell did I actually marry?*

When I got home that evening, Mark was already there. He had cooked a massive dinner. “Chloe, let’s eat first.” I didn’t move. “Mark, tell me the whole truth about you and Sarah.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Sit down.” I sat on the couch. He sat opposite me and lit a cigarette. “We got married in 2016. In 2017, we bought the house, and it was put in her name.” “Why only her name?” “She said… she said women need security. She said she’d only feel safe if her name was on the deed.” “And you just agreed?” “At the time, it didn’t seem like a big deal. We were married. We were a family.” I kept quiet, letting him continue. “In early 2018, Leo was born. But I was under so much pressure at work and working late constantly. She was exhausted taking care of the baby alone. We fought every single day.” “And then?” “Then… in late 2018, I met you.” He looked up at me, his eyes pleading. “Chloe, the first time I saw you, I just felt… you were so different from her. You were gentle, understanding, and sweet.” “So you decided to cheat.” “I didn’t cheat!” he protested desperately. “We only texted and grabbed coffee a few times. Nothing happened!” “But you divorced her for me?” He nodded slowly. “I filed for divorce. She… she refused at first. But I was set on leaving.” “How did you get her to sign if she refused?” “I told her… I told her she could keep the house, and I would continue paying the mortgage. Only then did she agree to sign the papers.” I closed my eyes, feeling sick to my stomach. “Mark.” “Yeah?” “Do you have any idea what kind of person you are?” He didn’t answer. “You are a liar and a coward.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “You lied to Sarah. You emotionally cheated on her, but you told her it was just ‘compatibility issues’ to ease your guilt. You used the house and the mortgage to buy your way out of that marriage.” “And then you lied to me. You played the victim, pretending to be some innocent, brokenhearted guy who got dumped. You told me you made $2,500. You told me you had no contact with her.” “You lied to everyone.” “Chloe, I never wanted to hurt you…” “You didn’t want to hurt me?” I laughed. “Mark, you lied to me about your own salary! How do you have the nerve to say you didn’t want to hurt me?” “I was just afraid you’d leave…” “Leave?” I stood up, towering over him. “Mark, you’ve paid ninety thousand dollars for your ex’s mortgage over the last five years! Meanwhile, you gave me four hundred dollars a month to run a household! You made me starve myself, and when my own mother was hospitalized, you told me we had no money! What did you expect me to do?!” He kept his head down, unable to look at me. “Let me ask you this,” I said, my voice cold. “How many years are left on that mortgage?” “…Fifteen years.” “Fifteen years,” I nodded. “So, if I hadn’t caught you, you were planning to pay her mortgage for another fifteen years?” He didn’t reply. “Fifteen hundred times twelve, times fifteen,” I calculated. “That’s two hundred and seventy thousand dollars. Plus the ninety thousand you already paid. That’s three hundred and sixty thousand dollars in total.” “Chloe…” “Mark, you are literally buying a $360,000 house for your ex-wife.” “It’s for my son…” “For your son?” I sneered. “Her name is on the deed, not his! How can you say it’s for him?” He had no answer. “And even if it was for him,” I stepped closer, “what about our son, Toby? What have you bought for him?” His face went completely white. “Mark, listen to me very carefully.” I bent down, forcing him to look into my eyes. “I don’t care what you owe her. But what you owe me for the past five years—that ninety thousand dollars—I want my half back. Forty-five thousand dollars.” Panic filled his eyes. “Chloe, what do you mean?” “What do I mean?” I stood up straight, my decision clear. “I want a divorce.”

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