Category: English

I was at the local farmer’s market, buying some fresh fish. Just as I was about to pay, I realized my phone was gone. Stolen. I was sweating bullets, panic rising in my chest, when I saw Tyler walking over. His arm was wrapped tightly around his girlfriend, Jessica. Relieved, I quickly ran up to him and asked if he could lend me $11 to pay for the fish. But before Tyler could even open his mouth, Jessica scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wow, your little childhood friend sure knows how to play the system. She treats your wallet like her personal ATM, doesn’t she?” Tyler scratched his head, looking put-out. “She’s always been a freeloader, babe. Honestly, it’s exhausting for me too.” Then he turned to Jessica with a reassuring smile. “Don’t get the wrong idea, honey. I’m definitely not letting her take advantage of me this time.” Jessica’s chest puffed up with pride. She stepped forward, jabbing her fake-nailed finger right at my forehead. “Take a look in the mirror, you cheap tramp. You want my boyfriend to be your sugar daddy? In your dreams.”

I was furious at the sudden, baseless accusation, but I tried to keep my cool and explain. “Tyler, my phone was just stolen, and I don’t have any cash on me. Old Hank already gutted and cleaned the fish for me. I can’t just walk away and leave him with it.” Hank, the fish vendor, looked at the three of us anxiously, terrified of losing a sale. Tyler looked at Hank, then back at me. Seeing that I wasn’t lying, he let out a dry laugh. “Oh, so that’s how it is.” He turned and squeezed Jessica’s waist, whispering in a baby voice, “Babe, look how pathetic and miserable she is. Let’s just help her out this once. Lend her the $11, and I’ll make sure she pays you back double with interest later.” But Jessica shoved him away, her face twisting with sudden rage. “Oh, so you feel sorry for her, Tyler?” “Tell me, how much money have you spent on her? Are you keeping her as your side piece behind my back?” “No wonder you’re always telling me to copy her makeup. You two are screwing around, aren’t you?!” Her loud, hysterical accusations immediately drew a crowd. People started stopping, pointing, and whispering at us. Tyler threw his hands up in panic, desperate to defend himself. “Babe, I swear! How could I ever like her? She’s been a leech since we were kids. I’ve suffered enough because of her.” “I swear, I only love you. Every other woman is trash to me, including Chloe.” Hearing this, Jessica let out a nasty laugh, intentionally raising her voice so everyone could hear. “Once you get stepped on by trash, it’s hard to shake off.” “Sweetheart, I feel so bad for you. Just walking through a market and you step right into a pile of garbage.” She was clearly calling me garbage. The crowd got the hint, and several people pulled out their phones to record. My head was throbbing. I must have had terrible luck today. All this drama over eleven dollars. Hank, the vendor, was getting impatient. “Young lady, I’m just trying to make a living. I already prepped the fish. You can’t just leave without paying!” I quickly assured him, “Don’t worry, Hank. You will get your money.” Then I turned to the onlookers. “Can anyone lend me $11? I’ll pay you back immediately.” The crowd quickly dispersed, stepping back to avoid getting involved. I rummaged through my purse and pulled out a brand new, unused YSL lipstick. I held it out to a young guy, Zach. “Hey, this is a brand new YSL lipstick. It retails for $40. You can keep it as collateral…” Before I could finish, Jessica snatched it from my hand and slammed it onto the concrete floor. “What a shameless bitch! First you treat my boyfriend like an ATM, and now you’re trying to scam some other guy to pay your bills? You have no dignity.” She pointed her finger at my forehead again, trying to humiliate me. “You dream about finding a sugar daddy every day, but look at yourself. You’re cheap. No man wants a gold digger like you. As long as I’m here, you won’t get a dime.” Tyler chimed in, adding fuel to the fire. “She’s always been like this. Flirting with any guy she sees. Look at all the people here, and she specifically targets the cute young guys to beg for money.” Then he glared at me. “Chloe, apologize to my girlfriend right now. Promise you’ll never touch my money again, and maybe we’ll pay the $11 for you.” The crowd started whispering nastily about me, throwing dirty looks. I was so angry I could feel my blood boiling. But after a few seconds, a cold calm washed over me. I smiled at the crowd, waving them closer. “Everyone, come closer! Today, you’re going to see exactly how this guy has been ‘sponsoring’ me all these years.” I looked at Jessica, my smile turning icy. “It’s a rare show, babe. Make sure you watch closely.”

“Sponsoring you?” Jessica’s smirk froze. She stomped her foot. “You little homewrecker! Stop trying to ruin our relationship. He’d have to be blind to sponsor you!” Her tone was filled with absolute confidence in their relationship. Meanwhile, Tyler stood there shaking his leg, looking smug. “My girl is so smart. Chloe has been a liar since we were kids. She practically lived at my house, eating our food, and she’s been badmouthing me for years. Babe, you need to teach her a lesson.” A guy holding up his phone to live stream, Brad, shouted to the crowd, “My stream just hit fifty thousand viewers! Everyone’s siding with the cute couple and calling this girl a shameless gold digger!” Brad’s words gave Jessica a massive ego boost. She sneered at me. “Go ahead, speak! If you can’t prove my boyfriend sponsored you, I’ll sue you for defamation and ruin your life.” Tyler gave her a thumbs-up. “Go get her, babe. Put her in her place.” He was so incredibly punchable. I wanted to slap him, but doing that in public would make me look guilty. I forced myself to stay calm and speak clearly. “Let’s start with freshman year of college,” I said, my voice steady. “Tyler used to blow through his monthly allowance before the 10th of every month. After that, he survived by eating with me at the dining hall every single day. Let’s do the math. At least $15 a meal, 20 days a month, 8 months a school year. Over four years, how much is that?” “During summer and winter breaks, he had no money and refused to get a job. Instead, he hung out at the bistro I co-owned, eating and drinking for free. By bistro prices, that’s at least $80 a day. Four months a year, for four years. How much is that?” “And his clothes? His laptop? He begged me to buy them for him. At least two new outfits every season, $500 a set. For four years, how much is that?” Before I could finish, Martha, the vegetable vendor, chimed in. “That’s at least sixty-four thousand dollars!” I gave Martha a thumbs-up. “And our college was an art school. Tuition was $40,000 a year. Tyler didn’t want to take out student loans, so he begged me to pay it upfront. That’s $160,000 over four years.” The crowd gasped. “Holy crap, so she was basically raising him?” “This is insane! A grown man lying like this and calling her a gold digger? How shameless!” The tide turned instantly. Tyler became the target of everyone’s glares. His face paled, and his voice shook. “Chloe, stop making things up in public! Don’t drag my name through the mud!” Jessica, who had been clinging to his arm, looked shaken. But she tried to sound tough. “You have no proof! Where’s your evidence?” I checked my pockets. My phone was stolen, so I couldn’t show them the records right away. I had to think of something else. Just then, Brad, the live-streamer, yelled, “My stream just hit a hundred and fifty thousand! A viewer named Marcus says he was your college class president. He says Chloe is telling the truth and Tyler is a dirty liar!” “And another viewer named Hailey says she was Chloe’s business partner at the bistro! She says Tyler ate there for free every break, never paid a dime, and told them to put it on Chloe’s tab—at least $100 a day!” Hearing those two names, Tyler’s face turned completely green. He stammered, unable to find a single word to defend himself. Jessica stepped away from him, looking utterly humiliated. But the look she gave me was filled with pure jealousy and hatred. I smiled coldly. “See that? I was the one sponsoring your boyfriend.”

Jessica’s face was bright red, but she refused to back down. “My boyfriend isn’t broke! Who knows if you paid off those people to lie? You’re just good at seducing men.” Even now, she was trying to paint me as a homewrecker. My face darkened. “Jessica, woman to woman, let me remind you—defamation is a crime.” Brad, the live streamer, quickly waved his hands. “Hey, don’t look at me! I have a wife. I didn’t even know Chloe before today.” Seeing the crowd grow larger, Old Hank tugged at my sleeve. “Miss, I don’t care about your drama. Just pay me for the fish.” I had no choice but to whisper, “Hank, please give me a second. Or let me borrow your phone to make a call. I swear I’m not trying to dodge the bill, my phone was literally just stolen.” Hank hesitated, then shook his head, refusing to hand over his phone. Just then, Martha, the vegetable vendor, walked over. “I’ll dial the number for you, but you can’t touch my phone.” It was smart to be cautious, and I was incredibly grateful. I pulled her aside and whispered the number. Tyler’s eyes darted around, and he suddenly spoke up with a self-righteous tone. “It’s normal for college kids from poor families to borrow money! It’s not a crime as long as you pay it back. There’s a saying: Everyone struggles when they’re young, don’t look down on a guy just because he started poor.” “Chloe, you’re just clinging to the four years when I was at my lowest. What about after graduation? You borrowed tons of money from me and never paid it back. Why don’t you talk about that?” Hearing this, Jessica instantly revived. She glared at me. “Yeah, Chloe! What are you acting so shady for? Come over here and let’s settle the score!” “Tyler has sent you transfers of five thousand, ten thousand, even thirty or fifty thousand dollars! Especially over the last two years. You called it ‘borrowing,’ but you never had any intention of paying it back.” Tyler yelled, “Exactly! I never said no to you, and now you’re stabbing me in the back? Where is your conscience?” Looking at these two delusional liars, I laughed out of sheer disbelief. “He sent me money? Do you have proof?” “Because I distinctly remember on February 17th of this year, Tyler begged me for $100,000. He said his girlfriend had been in a horrible car accident and needed the money for emergency surgery. I transferred it without a second thought. Snapchat and bank records don’t lie. Do you have the guts to open your phone and check right now?” Martha immediately chimed in. “She even remembers the exact date. That sounds like the truth to me.” She stepped forward and patted Jessica’s shoulder. “Girl, you better check your boyfriend’s phone. Some men are pathological liars. They lie like it’s breathing.” Jessica’s face flushed. “He wouldn’t dare lie to me!” “Then check his phone! Stop wasting time, we want to see who the real liar is!” the crowd cheered. Tyler didn’t look scared at all. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed. “Check it then! Who’s afraid of who? Chloe, you’re dead!”

Jessica grit her teeth and demanded Tyler’s phone. Tyler handed it over with a smirk, throwing me a dirty look. Jessica opened his Snapchat and demanded, “Is this you?” I looked at the profile picture. “Yes, that’s me.” She triumphantly showed the chat history to the crowd. “Look at this, everyone! Look at how much money this leech dragged out of my boyfriend!” “April 2nd: ‘Tyler, sweetie, my appendix is acting up. I need ten thousand for surgery.’ And my boyfriend sent it immediately!” “June 8th: ‘Hey Tyler, emergency! My landlord is threatening to evict me. Can you send your favorite girl five thousand?’” “And just last month, on the 9th: ‘Hey Tyler, can I borrow fifty thousand? I need it for tuition to further my studies.’” The disgusting pet names made my stomach turn. I almost threw up on the spot. But I had absolutely no memory of any of these messages. The crowd erupted in disgust. “Ugh, that’s vile. ‘Sweetie’? ‘Your favorite girl’? She’s a professional leech.” Jessica shoved the screenshots right in front of Brad’s camera lens. “See this? She’s been using my boyfriend as her personal bank!” She grew more and more furious. “Just two days ago, I told him to make her pay it back. You know what she said? She said she would ‘pay him back with her body.’ You hear that? She was literally begging to be his kept woman!” “If I’m lying about a single word, let lightning strike me down!” Her sheer confidence made Martha, the vegetable vendor, change her tune. She snatched the phone, looked at it, and glared at me with pure rage. “And here I was, standing up for you! I can’t believe you’re actually a cheap gold digger! The screenshots and chat logs are right here. What do you have to say for yourself?” She looked like she wanted to tear me apart. Old Hank looked devastated. “My stand is ruined. Get out of here! I don’t want your dirty money!” The crowd’s anger boiled over. They began shouting insults at me, and someone even threw a rotten cabbage leaf. I was completely bewildered. I tried to step closer to get a better look at the screen, but Tyler suddenly kicked me right in the stomach, knocking me to the ground. “Chloe! Since you want to play dirty, don’t blame me for being ruthless. Pay me back my money right now!” Martha led the chant: “Pay it back! Pay it back!” Jessica clapped gleefully, crossing her arms in triumph. “How could a person like her have any money? We’ve known her long enough to know she’s a broke loser.” She looked down at me with absolute contempt. “Tell you what. I did the math, and you owe Tyler about two hundred thousand dollars. We’ll be generous. Just write a promissory note, leave a thumbprint, and promise to pay it back within six months.” Tyler kissed her on the cheek in front of everyone. “My girl is so sweet and understanding. She always knows when to be merciful.” Then he turned to me with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Chloe, for lying about me, you need to get on your knees and apologize. Only then will we call it even. Don’t say I’m being too harsh. A man’s reputation is everything.” Brad, the live streamer, started chanting, “Kneel! Kneel! Kneel!” Looking at Tyler’s smug, punchable face, a sudden realization hit me. I clutched my stomach and struggled to my feet. “I can prove I’m innocent. And I can prove you are the lying fraud here.” Jessica scoffed. “Oh yeah? Show us the proof then. Stop bluffing.” Just then, a voice called out from the crowd. “Here’s your proof.” Tyler looked toward the voice, and the smug grin on his face instantly froze. He turned white as a sheet.

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I had been with Alpha Ethan for five years. Every time we had sex, I would beg him to mark me. But he would always tell me gently, “Not yet, Mia. The Council has arranged a political alliance for me. If I mark you now, they’ll see it as a direct challenge to their authority.” “Just wait a little longer. Once my position is stable and I can stand up to those power-hungry Elders, we can be together.” I believed him. I suppressed my inner instincts, waiting for the day he would finally declare me his Luna. Until our fifth anniversary. I had prepared a surprise gift for him. Instead, I walked into the VIP lounge at the bar and saw him pressing Summer, an Omega from our pack, against the wall. He was kissing her with a wild, desperate passion. Summer gasped, weakly pushing against his chest. “Ethan, stop… Your girlfriend will be furious if she finds out…” Ethan let out a casual, low chuckle. “Let her be. I’m exhausted from all this Council mating drama. I need to relax.” “She’s obedient. I’ll just throw a few sweet words her way, and she’ll stay. She’s not going anywhere.” Standing outside the door, my hands and feet went cold. My heart squeezed so tightly I could barely breathe. All those times I had tolerated his coldness, believing his excuses, he was just using them to seek thrill and novelty with someone else.

I blinked back the hot tears stinging my eyes, threw the anniversary gift straight into the trash can, and walked back into the main bar area without looking back. Five minutes later, Ethan and Summer walked back in, one after the other. Ethan looked completely unfazed. He walked straight over to me, sat down, and handed me a glass of wine. “When did you get here? Have a drink. You looked lost standing there by yourself.” I didn’t take the glass. My eyes were locked on a faint smudge of pink on his lip. Noticing my gaze, he casually wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. “What’s wrong? Do I have something on my face?” He arched an eyebrow, his tone filled with that same old, patronizing fondness. I felt a wave of nausea hit my stomach. Before I could speak, a soft cry echoed from the other side of the lounge. “Oh my gosh!” Summer was sitting on the floor next to a sofa, her eyes brimming with tears. “I think I sprained my ankle… It hurts so bad…” She clutched her ankle, but her eyes slid right past the crowd, landing straight on Ethan. A few guys nearby immediately swarmed her, offering to help. Summer bit her lower lip, shaking her head tearfully. “No, thank you. I… I can just call an Uber.” Ethan set his glass down, his brow furrowing. He stood up and turned to me. “Mia, it’s not safe for her to go alone. I’ll drive her home.” I looked up, staring at the face of the man I had loved for five years. “She only sprained her ankle; her legs aren’t broken. Besides, Chris is right there.” Chris was a Beta from our pack, and one of the very few who knew about my relationship with Ethan. An impatient flicker crossed Ethan’s eyes, though he masked it quickly. He reached out to ruffle my hair. “Be good, babe. Don’t overthink this. Summer helped me out with a pack matter last time.” “You’re always so sensitive. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. We’ll get your favorite pastries, okay?” I tilted my head, dodging his touch. For the first time in five years, I refused his touch. Ethan’s hand froze mid-air. “Alpha Ethan, thank you for the offer, but if Mia is upset, please don’t worry about me. I can manage…” Summer whimpered, tugging lightly at the hem of his jacket. Ethan’s expression darkened. Without another look at me, he grabbed Summer’s arm and helped her up. “Let’s go. I’m taking you home.” Without a single word of explanation, he walked out of the bar, supporting Summer. As the door swung shut, I heard people whispering nearby. “Alpha Ethan is way too good to that Omega. And Mia didn’t even care?” The night grew colder. I walked the streets alone. As I passed the coffee shop where Ethan and I always went, my feet froze. Through the glass window, I saw a young couple laughing. The boy wrapped his jacket around the girl’s shoulders, whispering something in her ear. I stood in the freezing wind, my nails digging deep into my palms. The sharp pain kept me grounded, but my eyes burned. I bit my lip hard, forcing myself not to cry. I walked all the way back to the Stoneclaw Pack’s residential villa. It was a small pack with only a dozen members, and everyone was already asleep. I went back to my room, but sleep wouldn’t come. I pulled out my phone and opened a hidden album. It was filled with screenshots of every text he had sent me over the last five years, every selfie we took after our dates, and photos of every love letter he had ever written me. My finger hovered over the screen for thirty seconds. Then, I selected all and hit delete. “Are you sure you want to permanently delete these items?” “Yes.” Right then, a notification popped up. It was a text from Ethan, saying he had bought me a gift. Immediately after, a second message arrived. “Wear it tomorrow. I had it custom-made for you. It’ll look perfect on you.” I stared at the photo of the necklace. It looked incredibly familiar. Just last week, Summer had been bragging to the housekeepers about an early birthday gift she had received. It was the exact same design. A cold, mocking chuckle escaped my lips. “All this waiting… I’m done.”

“Mia, over here!” The next morning, Ethan was leaning against his car outside the villa, holding a small cake box. I walked over, looked at the box, and made no move to take it. “What time did you get back after dropping Summer off last night?” I asked, looking him straight in the eye. Ethan’s eyes flickered, his smile faltering slightly. “Around nine. Why?” I kept my voice flat. “Then did you send her that ‘I had a great time tonight, get some rest’ text at 2 AM in your sleep?” After deleting my photos last night, I had checked Summer’s Snapchat. At 2 AM, she had posted a screenshot with the caption: *“Not only did he drive me home, but he also made sure to tuck me in text-style~”* She had deleted it quickly, but I had already screenshotted it. Panic flashed across Ethan’s face, his grip tightening on the cake box, but he recovered quickly. “Don’t start making a big deal out of nothing. I’ve been exhausted lately. Can’t I just unwind?” “Or do I need your permission to talk to people now? Mia, when did you become so unreasonable?” His words triggered a memory. Once, a male werewolf from our pack had asked me to spar. When Ethan found out, he gave me the silent treatment for two whole days. In the end, I was the one who apologized and cut ties with that warrior just to appease him. His standards had always been double. I had just been too blinded by love to see it. “Whatever you say.” I looked away and walked past him toward the villa. He yelled after me, “Calm down! And don’t forget to submit your transfer application to Moonshadow Pack like we agreed. Don’t let your petty temper ruin our future.” I stopped and looked back through the glass window. Right in front of me, he answered a phone call. The name caller ID read: *Summer*. When he answered, his lips curved into a smile, his voice softened, and his posture relaxed. He looked exactly like he did when he first pursued me. I looked away, went up to my room, and sat at my desk. On the desk lay the application form to leave the Stoneclaw Pack and join the Moonshadow Pack. I remembered how, five years ago, Ethan had painted a picture of our future. Living together in the Moonshadow estate, running pack business together, spending every full moon side-by-side. I folded the application in half, then in half again. Then, I tossed it into the trash can in the corner of my room. I left the villa and took an Uber to the townhouse Ethan had bought for me. He had said it wasn’t appropriate for us to be seen together inside the pack, so we always met there. I used to think of it as our secret sanctuary. I had been so happy, believing he belonged only to me. I unlocked the front door. But in the entryway stood a pair of unfamiliar high heels. From the living room, Summer’s voice drifted over. “Ethan, I took a bite of the cake you bought for Mia… She won’t be mad, will she?” Then came Ethan’s lazy chuckle. “It’s just a slice of cake. She’s not that petty.” I stood in the entryway, clutching the key in my hand. Then, I turned around and quietly pulled the door shut behind me.

“Mia, why haven’t you been going on dates with Ethan lately?” A week later, Chris caught me in the villa stairwell, keeping his voice down. I didn’t answer. In the past, whenever we fought, he would freeze me out for a few days, and I would always be the first to cave. Clearly, Ethan was waiting for me to do the same this time. I found a cardboard box and packed up everything he had ever given me. The scarves, the keychains, the handwritten letters. As I picked up one of the notes, my eyes fell on his handwriting. *“Mia, the moment the Council alliance is resolved, the first thing I’ll do is mark you. — Your Ethan.”* I ran my finger over the words “Your Ethan.” Then, I closed the lid. I grabbed the packing tape. I wasn’t crying, but it took me three tries to tear the tape. My hands had absolutely no strength left. On the third day, Ethan finally sent a text. “Been busy with pack business. Text me back when you’re done throwing your tantrum.” Attached was a photo of the Moonshadow estate. I didn’t reply. That afternoon, I went to a cafe downtown. As I sat by the window on the second floor, my eyes drifted to the corner of the patio downstairs. Ethan, who was supposedly “busy with pack business,” was sitting there, helping Summer adjust her jacket. There were two drinks on the table. Summer’s drink had two straws in it. I gripped my cup tightly from upstairs. Summer’s sweet voice floated up clearly. “Ethan, are you sure Mia won’t be mad that you’re out with me?” “Is she still giving you the silent treatment? Honestly… I know I’m not qualified to join the Moonshadow Pack. You shouldn’t pull favors for me.” Ethan chuckled softly. “With her stubborn head, where else is she going to go but with me?” “She definitely submitted her transfer application. Don’t worry about it. Once she moves into the estate, I’ll buy her something nice, and she’ll get over it.” He paused, then added, “Just be good and don’t make trouble for me.” Summer giggled, tapping his hand playfully. “But what about Mia?” “Her? She’s obedient. A bouquet of flowers, and she’ll be fine. Don’t worry!” I remembered a winter years ago, when we were walking in the snow. I had asked him, “If we ever fight, will you find someone else?” Back then, Ethan had stopped, looked at me, and said with absolute sincerity: “Mia, I’ve given all my patience in this lifetime to you. I don’t have any left for anyone else.” It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. Now, I realized it was just a blank check he had casually signed. The pain didn’t even register anymore. Because the man who had said those words to me was not the same man sitting downstairs talking about how “obedient” I was. I set my cup down, stood up, and left. When I got home, I took the sealed box of his things and threw it into the recycling bin outside. Then, I blocked his number and social media accounts one by one. At that exact moment, downstairs in the cafe. Ethan’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, saw it wasn’t a text from Mia, and put it away. “I’ll let her stew for another two days,” he murmured to Summer. “Once I finish this pack business, I’ll go get her. She’ll probably cry from joy.” He had no idea that back at the Stoneclaw villa, the Moonshadow transfer application had already been sitting in the trash.

By mid-August, Ethan had wrapped up his duties at the Moonshadow Pack. He was in a great mood. He pulled out his phone to text Mia. *Click.* A red exclamation mark popped up. *Message failed to send. You are blocked by this user.* Ethan stared at the screen for two seconds, then let out a scoff. He tried Snapchat. Blocked. He tried calling. It went straight to voicemail. Still, he didn’t panic. He actually found it kind of amusing. This was the first time Mia had taken a fight so far as to block him everywhere. She must be really furious this time. But it didn’t matter. No matter how much she threw a fit, she would always come back. Ethan joked with his Beta, Marcus, “Mia blocked me. Haha, she’s really going all out this time.” The pack warriors around them started laughing. “Alpha Ethan, you’re legendary. You haven’t checked on her in a month, and you aren’t even sweating?” “With Mia’s personality, the moment you show up, she’ll probably burst into tears and throw herself into your arms.” Hearing their praise, Ethan’s chest swelled. He admitted he had been a little too close to Summer lately, and he felt a tiny twinge of guilt. But that was different. Summer was just a distraction. Mia was his true Luna. He made a mental note to make it up to her once he got her back. Ethan drove downtown and walked into a florist. “Give me the most expensive bouquet of red roses you have,” he said, tapping his card on the counter. It cost twice as much as the gifts he usually bought for Summer. Then, he went to a jewelry store and picked out a diamond necklace. At the register, the clerk smiled. “Sir, we offer free engraving on this piece. Would you like to add anything?” Ethan thought back to the promise he had made her years ago. “Engrave ‘Wait for me.’” He smiled, thinking the gesture was flawless. He went home, changed into a fresh shirt, styled his hair, and checked his phone. He sent a quick text to Summer: *“I’m busy today. Don’t text me.”* Summer sent back a sad face emoji. Ethan ignored it and locked his phone. He drove toward the Stoneclaw Pack territory, the roses sitting on the passenger seat, the cake and necklace box in the back. He could already picture the look on Mia’s face when she opened the door. She’d probably start with a cold face, pretending to be angry. Then, she’d see the engraving on the necklace. Her eyes would well up with tears. Finally, she’d take the flowers and mutter, “At least you know you were wrong.” She always did that. Five years. He knew her inside out. She could never escape him. Just two blocks away from the Stoneclaw villa, his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. He pulled over and looked at the screen. It was Marcus. Ethan answered, his voice light. “Marcus, what’s up?” Marcus’s voice sounded hesitant. “Alpha… I was just reviewing the transfer list for Moonshadow. I’ve gone through it three times… Mia’s name isn’t on here.” “Are you sure she’s coming?” The smile froze on Ethan’s face. “What? That’s impossible. We agreed on this.” “Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” Marcus sighed. “Her name isn’t on the list. Maybe you should ask her yourself?”

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At the pack gathering, my mate, Alpha Liam, came back smelling like a scent that didn’t belong to me. And my best friend, Jade, sat in the corner with a fresh bite mark on her neck. Everyone tried to brush it off, calling it a “training accident.” I smiled and pretended to believe them. I should have felt his betrayal through our mate bond, but the connection had been strangely foggy lately. As it turned out, out of the twenty people in the room, I was the only fool left in the dark. Since you love putting on a show, let me build you a stage. “Luna Serena, don’t be mad! It was really just an accident!” The tension in the living room of the massive villa was suffocating. Alpha Liam stood in the middle of the room, that strange, foreign scent still clinging to him. Jade sat on the couch in the corner, a fresh bite mark glaringly obvious on her neck under the bright lights. A dim light, an awkward silence. The man was Liam—my boyfriend of five years, and my fated mate for two. The woman was Jade—my best friend of ten years, the girl I used to share everything with. Just minutes ago, Liam and Jade had walked back in together. They claimed they went outside to grab some drinks, but when they returned, Liam was covered in a scent that wasn’t mine. Dead silence. It lasted for a painful ten seconds. Then Chad, a Beta who hosted the party, burst into a loud, forced laugh. “Hahaha! What’s with those faces? They just used the same cologne, that’s all!” He slapped his thigh and turned to me. “As for the wound… Serena, did it scare you? During group training yesterday, Jade accidentally got nicked! Look at how tense you all are!” As soon as Chad spoke, the frozen pack members came back to life. “Yeah, Luna Serena, don’t take it seriously!” “Accidents happen during training. Look at the angle, it was obviously a mistake!” “Chad’s right! Just a minor accident. Look how pale Serena is, we really scared her!” Jade sat across from me, her face even paler than mine. She bit her lip, avoiding my eyes, fidgeting with her hem. Her voice trembled. “Luna Serena… please don’t be mad. It was just an accident during training…” Then, Liam walked over. He saw everyone’s faces, noticed the bite mark on Jade’s neck, and realized what was happening. He rushed over and wrapped his arms tightly around my shoulders. “Babe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t watch her closely enough during training yesterday, and she got hurt.” Liam sounded perfectly panicked and apologetic, his warm breath brushing my ear. “Don’t be mad. I’ll be more careful next time.” His embrace was tight, smelling of the familiar scent I used to love. But right now, it made my stomach churn with pure disgust. I looked around. Chad’s fake smile, Jade’s teary eyes, the guilty, dodging looks of the pack members. They were good actors. Their coordination was flawless. I should have known if he was lying through our mate bond, but the connection felt like it was wrapped in a thick fog. Then, I caught a faint whisper on the mind link. It was Liam and Jade. “Did she believe it?” Jade’s voice flickered in my mind. “Yeah. Don’t worry, she’s too stupid to notice. She hasn’t suspected a thing this whole time, she won’t start today,” Liam replied. I froze. Looking at Liam’s “sincere” face, I suddenly smiled. I gently pushed him away, let out a long breath, and patted my chest as if relieved. “Oh my god! You guys are so mean! How can you make a training accident sound so scary?” I grabbed a throw pillow and tossed it at Chad. “Chad, that was a terrible joke. No beer for you tonight!” The tension in the room instantly evaporated. Everyone let out a massive sigh of relief. “I knew Serena was the best!” Chad cheered, grabbing a beer. “My bad, my bad! I’ll drink to that! Let’s party, guys!” Liam relaxed too. He kissed my forehead. “You’re the best, babe. Let me get you some food.” Jade came over, wrapping her arm around mine. “Serena, you’re not mad at me, right? I was so scared.” “Silly girl, why would I be mad at you?” I squeezed her hand, smiling warmly. “We’re best friends.” But as she relaxed, a cold dread coiled in my chest like a venomous snake. Best friend. Beloved Alpha. Trusted pack. I had been living in a giant lie.

The drama seemed to blow over just like that. Music started playing again. People ate BBQ, drank beer, and played games. But I felt like a ghost, completely detached from the world. I watched them. I noticed Liam and Jade purposely avoiding each other. They didn’t even make eye contact. But the way the others looked at me had changed. It was subtle, but I caught it. It was pity, mockery, and amusement. They were probably laughing at me in their minds: *Look at Serena, the clueless Luna. Her mate is cheating on her, and she believes any stupid lie.* Halfway through, I excused myself to the restroom. I stared at my pale face in the mirror. Serena, you’re pathetic. There was a knock on the door. It was Chad. He handed me a glass of warm water, his playful smirk replaced by a patronizing look. “Here, Serena. Have some water.” I didn’t take it. I just looked at him coldly. “What do you want, Chad?” Chad sighed, leaning against the doorframe, keeping his voice low. “Serena, look… we’re all adults. Sometimes, it’s better to play dumb.” My heart sank, but I kept my face blank. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I mean, Liam still treats you well. He’s an Alpha; sometimes they just need a little excitement. But in his heart, the pack is the pack, and you’re still his Luna.” Chad looked at me with an air of superiority. “I heard you’re the Alpha King’s least favorite daughter because your mother passed away when you were born. Even if you throw a fit, the Alpha King won’t back you up. Liam is the Alpha of Moonridge now. Staying with him at least keeps you as Luna. Just turn a blind eye, and your life will still be comfortable. Don’t you think?” I got it now. He wasn’t here to comfort me. He was here to warn me. He was telling me: *We all know Liam is cheating, but you better pretend you don’t. Play the good Luna, don’t make a scene, and don’t ruin our fun.* Looking at Chad’s smug face, I found it incredibly ridiculous. “Chad, Jade was marked by my Alpha,” I said, staring into his eyes. “And instead of being angry, you’re telling me to be generous?” Chad stiffened, looking uncomfortable for a second, but quickly shrugged it off. “Serena, don’t look at it that way. We’re just trying to have fun. Besides, Jade…” He waved it off. “Anyway, I’m telling you this for your own good. Be smart. Don’t push Liam too far, or you’ll end up with nothing.” “For my own good?” I let out a cold laugh. “Well, thanks a lot.” I pushed past him and walked back to the living room. I didn’t blow up. Because I knew that if I did now, they would just deny it and turn it on me. They had the numbers. They were a united front. I needed proof. I needed solid, undeniable evidence to drag them all down.

3:00 AM. The villa was finally quiet. Everyone was passed out in their rooms. Liam lay beside me, fast asleep, snoring softly. I stared at the ceiling, waiting in the darkness. Then, I heard voices. Not with my ears, but deep in my mind, echoing at the edge of my consciousness. I thought it was a dream at first, but the voices grew clearer. It was Liam, Chad, Jade, and several others from the pack. They were talking in a private mind link. “She bought it. We’re safe,” Jade’s voice laughed with relief. “I told you she was easy to fool,” Chad chimed in. “You should’ve seen her face. Like a total idiot.” “Alright, let’s drop it,” Liam said. “That was too close tonight. Be careful from now on.” “But with her mate bond blocked, what could she possibly find out anyway?” Liam added, sounding incredibly smug. I lay frozen, barely breathing. They forgot to block me from this link. Or rather, they thought I was asleep and couldn’t hear anything since my mate bond was suppressed. I didn’t even know you could suppress a mate bond. “By the way, how much of that suppressant do you have left?” Chad asked. “Enough for six months,” Liam replied. “Once she’s completely used to the foggy connection, I could mark someone else right in front of her, and she wouldn’t even feel it.” They laughed. My hands clenched the sheets. So that was it. There was nothing wrong with my mate bond. He had poisoned it. “What are you going to do about the Hunt Festival tomorrow?” Jade asked. “With so many packs there, if she makes a scene…” “She won’t,” Liam said confidently. “She has no proof, and she doesn’t have the guts. Her Alpha King father doesn’t care about her. She has nothing without me.” “True,” Chad agreed. “Even her job at the agency—she only got that director position because of you. If she’s smart, she’ll keep her mouth shut and play the good Luna.” “Exactly,” Jade purred. “Once she’s fully trained, we can keep having our fun.” I wanted to laugh. My job? I pulled endless all-nighters and launched three major campaigns to secure that director position. Liam had done nothing but forward my resume once. Yet in their minds, all my hard work was just his charity. They kept talking, planning tomorrow, scheduling their next hookup, laughing at how they’d keep deceiving me. I lay there, recording every single word in my mind. I didn’t cry. Tears are too cheap for this level of rage. I closed my eyes and waited for dawn. Since you think I’m a fool, and since you think I’m easy to handle. Since you love putting on a show in your little mind link. I’m going to play a game so big, it’ll ruin you. I’ll show you what happens when you push a quiet person too far.

The next day was the Moonridge Pack’s annual Hunt Festival. The pack gathered in the central clearing, a bonfire roaring, the air filled with the scent of roasted meat and pine. Guests from neighboring packs had arrived, making the crowd lively. I woke up early, put on a full face of makeup with bold red lipstick, and wore a stunning red slip dress. When I walked down, everyone stopped. Liam walked over, eyes wide with admiration. “Babe, why so gorgeous today?” I smiled sweetly, straightening his collar. “It’s the Hunt Festival. I have to look my best.” Liam let out a sigh of relief. He thought last night was completely behind us. “Yeah, it’s going to be a wild day!” Chad chimed in. Jade slid over, wrapping her arm around mine. “Serena, that lipstick color is gorgeous. Can I borrow it?” I looked at her innocent face, swallowing my disgust, and smiled. “Sure, it’s in my bag. Go ahead.” Breakfast was filled with laughter. The pack treated me with their usual fake warmth. They thought the storm had passed. They had no idea a tsunami was coming. The festival began. Guests arrived, the bonfire blazed, and young wolves showed off their strength while the elders drank and talked. Chad stood in the center, shouting to the crowd. “Gather around, everyone! Let’s get a pack photo to show the other packs how united Moonridge is!” He gathered all twenty-something members in front of the fire. Liam stood on my left, Jade on my right. They flanked me like loyal guardians. “Say Moonridge on three!” Chad yelled, holding up his phone. “Moonridge!” Everyone smiled brightly for the camera. Chad grinned. “Thanks, everyone! Moonridge has been together for years. We’re like family. No secrets, no lies!” “Yeah, no secrets!” Liam laughed. “We’re one big happy family!” Jade blew a kiss to the crowd. Seeing their sickening acts, I knew it was time. I stepped into the center of the clearing, facing everyone. “Alpha Liam.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the noise. The crowd went quiet, turning to me. Liam blinked, his smile faltering. “What is it, babe?” I didn’t answer him. I turned to the entire crowd, including the visiting Alphas from other packs. “Everyone, I am Serena, Luna of the Moonridge Pack. I have a few words to say today.” Liam’s smile froze. Sensing something, he quickly stepped forward to grab my arm. “Serena, don’t make a scene—” “Don’t touch me!” I slapped his hand away, my voice dripping with ice. Liam gasped, his hand hanging in the air. I glared at him, my eyes like daggers. “Alpha Liam, I heard everything you said in the mind link last night.” Liam’s face went completely pale. “You said you used suppressants to block our mate bond. You called me a fool who wouldn’t dare make a scene,” I said, my voice echoing. “You even said you could mark someone else right in front of me, and I wouldn’t feel a thing.” The crowd erupted into whispers. The visiting pack members began murmuring excitedly. “What is going on? Drama!” “Is the Alpha cheating on his Luna?” “This is huge!” Liam looked like he had seen a ghost. “Serena, let me explain…” “Explain what?” I snapped. “Explain how you marked Jade?” I pointed at Jade, who was trembling in the crowd, her bite mark burning under the bonfire’s light. “That’s not a training accident,” I shouted. “That’s a mating mark. My Alpha mate marked another woman behind my back!” Gasps echoed through the clearing. The silence that followed was suffocating. Liam suddenly fell to his knees with a loud thud. “Serena! I’m sorry! I was wrong! Please don’t do this! You’ll ruin me!” He tried to grab my legs, crying. Disgusted, I stepped back and kicked him squarely in the shoulder, knocking him to the dirt. “Ruin you? You ruined yourself!” I pointed at him. “You slept with her while I was sick! I worked myself to the bone to save this pack from bankruptcy, and you were busy flirting with her! Now you’re worried about your reputation? Too late!” Jade broke down, sobbing on the ground. “Luna Serena, I’m sorry… it was a mistake… I’ll give Liam back to you, please forgive me…” “Give him back?” I laughed coldly. “I don’t want your sloppy seconds!” I turned back to the silent pack. “Do you think that’s all? Oh, it gets better.” I raised my voice, repeating the vicious words I heard on the link. “‘I bet Serena finds out within six months.’” “‘I bet she never finds out.’” “‘She’s nothing without Liam.’” With every line, I stared down a different face. The people who had been smiling at me minutes ago now looked like they wanted to swallow their own tongues. “You loved watching the show, didn’t you? You loved betting on me?” “Today, I’m letting every pack here watch your downfall!”

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1 Liam’s family was supposed to be broke. Since we started dating, I was always the one buying things, paying for dinners, trying to ease the burden of his empty pockets. With our anniversary just around the corner, I took a part-time job at a high-end luxury department store, hoping to save up enough to buy him a decent tailored suit. The store was quiet, the afternoon dragging, when a young couple walked into the Cartier boutique right next to my section. The girl clung to the man’s sleeve, her voice dripping with sweet, performative irritation. “Why haven’t you broken up with that charity case yet? You aren’t actually serious about her, are you?” The man didn’t look up from his phone as he handed his black card to the cashier, casually purchasing an array of gold jewelry. “Didn’t you tell me to make her fall madly in love with me before throwing her away? The game is only halfway through. What’s the rush?” A cold, heavy numbness settled in my chest. The girl was Brooke Harrington—the person who had made my high school years a living hell. And the man standing beside her, holding the black card, was Liam. When I first saw him in the boutique, my brain refused to connect the dots. He was wearing an Italian silk shirt, a luxury watch glinting on his wrist. The Liam in my head only wore faded denim jacket and worn-out sneakers, the kind of guy who stared at a six-dollar draft beer and hesitated before ordering. Just last week, we had walked past this very jewelry store. I had paused for half a minute, admiring a delicate gold pendant in the window display. Liam had looked at me with a heavy, guilt-ridden expression. “Audrey, I’m so sorry. I’m useless. I can’t afford things like this for you right now.” He had squeezed my hand, his voice thick with emotion. “But wait for me. I’ll save up. One day, I’ll buy you something real.” Liam was supposedly from a struggling family in a small rust-belt town, surviving on university financial aid. I knew how hard things were for him. So, I had gently pulled him away from the glass. “It’s just gold. Who cares?” I had led him down the street to a cheap convenience store, pointing to a rack of plastic hair clips. “This is perfect. Buy me this instead.” A hair clip was five dollars. It was something he could easily afford. I remembered how Liam’s eyes had shimmered with unshed tears. He had leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Audrey, you deserve so much more than this. I’m so lucky to have you.” But that same broke, self-sacrificing Liam was now spinning a titanium credit card between his fingers. Beside him, Brooke tried on a succession of thick gold bangles. He offered her a lazy, indulgent smile. “If you can’t decide, just take them all.” Every necklace she touched was added to the pile. The sales associate smiled warmly as she processed the transaction. “Your total is ninety-eight thousand dollars, sir.” Ninety-eight thousand dollars. I stood frozen in the shadow of the display pillar. That was ten times the amount he had once told me he was trying to save for our eventual wedding. 2 By the time I finished my shift and walked back to our cramped, rented apartment, Liam was already there. He was waiting for me in the small entryway. “Audrey, close your eyes and hold out your hand,” he whispered. A thin red thread fell into my palm. Threaded through the center was a tiny, gold-plated bead, no larger than a grain of rice. “I couldn’t get you a real bracelet, so I hope this holds you over,” he said, his voice soft and earnest. “Don’t let the size fool you—it cost me half of my grocery budget for the month. But as long as you like it, it’s worth every penny.” The warm, cheap light of the hallway lamp fell over his face, softening his handsome features. He looked so incredibly sincere. If this had been yesterday, my heart would have ached with appreciation and guilt. I would have hugged him tightly, telling him he shouldn’t have spent the money. But now, I only stared at the little red thread with a hollow, dead sensation. I knew exactly what it was. It was a complimentary gift—the cheap freebie the jewelry boutique gave out to customers who spent over fifty thousand dollars. I raised my hand and slowly slid the thread off my wrist. Liam blinked, his gentle smile faltering slightly. “What’s wrong? Are you embarrassed to take it?” He tried to laugh it off, pulling me closer. “Hey, aren’t you working extra shifts to buy me that suit? Gifts are supposed to go both ways.” Before we started working, Liam had mentioned he had never owned a proper suit. I wanted to get him a custom-tailored one for his upcoming birthday. It cost thousands of dollars—money I didn’t have—which was why I had taken the grueling retail job. As he spoke, he wrapped his arms around me from behind. An instant later, the familiar scent of his laundry detergent was overwhelmed by a sharp, heavy note of chypre perfume. Brooke’s signature scent. It was the fragrance that had haunted me throughout my sophomore year of high school. Just catching a whiff of it made my stomach violently churn. I jerked my head away, avoiding his lips as he leaned down to kiss my cheek. Liam froze for a fraction of a second. Then, he raised his hand to sniff his own collar, his expression smooth and untroubled. “Ah, someone in the crowded elevator must have been wearing some heavy perfume. It probably rubbed off on me. I’ll go take a shower.” He grabbed his fifteen-dollar Target sweatpants and disappeared into the bathroom. I walked silently into the small study and booted up my laptop. I hadn’t confronted him at the mall because I wanted to understand. I needed to see the full scope of the lie. 3 The computer was mine, but I rarely used it, so Liam had been using it for his schoolwork. His messaging app was still logged in. A new notification popped up from a contact saved simply as “Little Sis.” “Liam, thanks for the gold jewelry today! I absolutely love it.” “And remember, you’re just playing a part with Audrey. It’s a game.” “Do not dare to actually fall for her! Don’t forget how she used to treat me in school.” I knew the person on the other end was Brooke. But had I ever actually bullied her? During our sophomore year, I had stumbled upon someone hurting a stray cat in the alley behind the school. The poor creature was crying out in agony, a sound like a weeping infant. I had turned my phone’s flashlight toward the noise. Brooke had jumped, dropping a small pocket knife. She had quickly tried to laugh it off, explaining she wanted to go to pre-med and was just “practicing dissection.” In the corner of the alley, a pregnant stray was trapped in a wire cage. I had insisted on freeing the animals, but she had blocked my way. The commotion had drawn the attention of a nearby teacher and several students. The incident was exposed, sparking massive outrage across the school. But Brooke’s family was incredibly wealthy; they made a few phone calls, paid a hefty donation, and the school quietly buried the scandal. People eventually forgot. But Brooke never did. She and her friends began leaving dead mice in my locker. They put thumbtacks on my chair, threw my textbooks into the toilets, and followed me like ghosts. It only ended when my foster family relocated, and I transferred to a different school district. Another ping broke the silence. “Honestly, that ‘knight in shining armor’ stunt I planned for you worked perfectly, didn’t it?” “Is that idiot Audrey completely obsessed with you now?” My breath hitched. My first meeting with Liam had indeed been a rescue. During our junior year of college, Brooke had come to our campus as a visiting student. By some cruel twist of fate, we were assigned to the same community outreach project in a remote, rural town. While we were out collecting environmental data in the woods, my backpack—containing my phone and map—was stolen. I got separated from the group. As dusk began to fall, a few local men started following me, whispering and whistling. Just as panic was setting in, Liam had suddenly appeared from the trees. He got into a brutal physical altercation with them, giving me enough time to run. We escaped, but his leg was badly injured in the scuff. I had rushed him to the local clinic, where the doctor diagnosed him with a severe meniscus and ligament tear—a permanent, irreversible injury. Even when he was told he would always walk with a slight limp, Liam had looked up at me from his hospital bed, his eyes warm and comforting. “Audrey, don’t blame yourself. This has nothing to do with you. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” The sheer, overwhelming guilt and gratitude of that moment was what made me fall for him. Because he had permanently injured himself to save me, I had resolved that no matter what happened, I would always protect him. He had earned a permanent pass in my life. But the words on the screen kept scrolling. “She still has no idea that your leg was never actually injured, does she?” “It’s hilarious. That private clinic is literally owned by your family’s foundation. You could have ordered any medical report you wanted.” The room seemed to spin. Even his permanent injury—the ultimate proof of his love—was nothing but a fabricated lie. 4 Liam walked into the study after his shower, his hair still damp. He reached out to touch my shoulder, but I stood up, stepping out of his reach. “Audrey, what is it?” his voice softened, adopting that familiar, pleading tone. “It’s raining tonight. My leg is starting to ache again. Can we just hold each other and go to sleep?” In the past, the moment he mentioned his leg, any anger or stubbornness I held would instantly melt away. But tonight, I remained silent. He let out a small, hurt sigh. “Why are you acting like this? Are you still upset about the gold bracelet? Is it because the bead is too small? Do you think I’m too poor to give you what you want?” It was almost comical. The heir to one of the largest shipping empires on the East Coast was standing in my cheap apartment, lecturing me about being materialistic. I walked past him into the bedroom and closed the door. “I have a long day tomorrow. I need to sleep.” The department chair had been reviewing candidates for a prestigious study abroad fellowship in London. I had been working toward it for two years. The final recommendation list was supposed to be posted tomorrow morning. My GPA was perfect, and my community service hours were the highest in the department. I knew I was the top candidate. The next morning, my academic advisor called me into her office. She looked pale, holding a document in her hand. “Audrey, the university committee put you forward as our primary recommendation,” she began, her voice tight and hesitant. “But… this fellowship is fully funded by Brighton Holdings. The final decision rests entirely with their board.” I nodded, waiting. She sighed, refusing to meet my eyes. “They rejected our recommendation. They claimed you have… ‘questionable moral character.’ I’m so sorry, Audrey. The fellowship is going to someone else.” I stood there, completely numb. Questionable moral character? Based on what? My advisor couldn’t give me an answer. She only patted my shoulder and muttered some empty platitude about how the corporate world has its own harsh rules. But Brooke was more than happy to give me the answer. As I walked out of the social sciences building, she was leaning against the courtyard railing, swirling an iced latte and looking at me with a triumphant smirk. “Surprised about the fellowship?” she cooed. “Don’t look at me like that. You brought this on yourself when you decided to stick your nose in my business years ago. My brother happens to be close friends with the CEO of Brighton Holdings. A quick text was all it took to cross your name off the list.” With a single, casual text, she had demolished two years of my hard work. At that moment, Liam walked up to meet me after class. His eyes met Brooke’s for a fraction of a second. It was a cold, calculated look of mutual recognition, but they instantly masked it, acting like complete strangers. Liam turned to me, his brow furrowing with gentle concern. “Audrey, you look incredibly pale. What happened?” He reached into his pocket and produced a cheap pink plastic hair clip. “Look, I got paid for my tutoring shift today. I saw this and thought of you. Does this make you feel any better?” The cheap plastic clip caught the afternoon sun, looking utterly pathetic. Compared to the diamonds and designer clothes Brooke was wearing, it was an insult. I stared at Liam, my voice quiet. “Do you really want me to be happy?” He nodded without a second thought. “Of course I do.” Without another word, I turned and caught up to Brooke before she could walk away. Before she could even register my presence, I swung my hand and slapped her across the face. The crack echoed through the courtyard. Brooke stumbled back, clutching her reddening cheek in sheer shock. “Audrey! Are you out of your mind?!” I grabbed her by the wrist, keeping her pinned, and looked back at Liam. “Liam, she’s the one who’s been ruining my life. If you want me to be happy, do something about it.” Liam stood frozen. In all the time he had known me, I had never once raised my hand against anyone. He stared at Brooke’s swollen cheek, his eyes flickering with an incredibly complex web of panic and annoyance. Finally, he stepped forward, his voice low and tight. “Audrey, let her go. This is getting out of hand. Violence isn’t going to solve anything.” He didn’t ask what she had done to me. He didn’t ask why I was hurt. He simply took the high road, hiding behind a shield of moral superiority. When I didn’t let go, I raised my other hand and slapped Brooke again. Tears welled in Brooke’s eyes as she looked at Liam, silently pleading for him to intervene. Liam’s patience finally snapped. He lunged forward, grabbing my wrists with force. “Audrey! Stop acting like a crazy person! No matter what happened, you’re classmates. Can’t you talk like civilized adults?” In his haste to protect Brooke, the plastic hair clip slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the asphalt. A student riding a bicycle zipped past, and the tire rolled directly over the cheap plastic, crushing it into sharp, useless shards. My mind flashed back to that rainy evening outside the convenience store. Under the dim yellow streetlights, he had carefully tucked a similar clip behind my ear, his eyes full of nothing but me. I had held his hand, believing we were building a future out of nothing. A cold wind swept the plastic shards across the concrete. My chest construct contracted, a sharp, physical ache blooming behind my ribs. After all, I had loved him. Even when you find out it’s a lie, the extraction of that love still tears at your skin. Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was an unknown number. Over the last few days, I had been getting persistent spam calls. The scammers were getting increasingly ridiculous, claiming I was the long-lost daughter of some prominent East Coast family. I cut the call off immediately. I looked up, meeting Liam’s eyes, and finally said the words I had been practicing all night. “Liam, we’re done. Don’t ever contact me again.” 5 That evening, as I worked my shift at the luxury boutique, my phone buzzed continuously. “Audrey, stop being dramatic.” “There were too many people around campus today. I was just worried about your reputation. Getting suspended for fighting isn’t worth it.” “Don’t use breaking up as a threat to get my attention. It hurts me.” I muted the screen and ignored every single message. By the time my shift ended, the sky had completely ruptured. Torrential rain poured down, accompanied by heavy rolls of thunder. The subways were delayed, and Uber prices had surged to three times the normal rate. My apartment was less than a mile away. I pulled my cheap umbrella open and stepped into the storm. The wind tore at the fabric, turning the umbrella inside out within seconds. I was soaked to the bone in an instant. My phone buzzed again. “Audrey, you must be off work by now, right?” “I wanted to come pick you up, but the damp weather is making my leg injury flare up. It hurts so bad I can barely stand.” “I’m heading to the clinic to get some painkillers. Just go straight home.” I reached the intersection, waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green. Three feet away from me, a sleek black Maybach rolled to a stop at the red light. The passenger window was halfway down. Through the glass, I saw Liam. He was leaning back against the leather seat, one hand casually resting on the steering wheel. Brooke was in the passenger seat beside him. Liam’s brow was furrowed in mild annoyance. “Next time, wear a lighter perfume. Her nose is incredibly sensitive.” Brooke glanced at his phone, laughing. “Still not replying to you? All this drama over a tiny argument. It looks like the great Liam Campbell is losing his touch.” Liam tapped his index finger against the steering wheel—a habit he only did when he was genuinely agitated. “Don’t talk nonsense. Girls just like to be coddled. She’ll come around once I apologize. Audrey loves me too much to actually leave.” The soft yellow glow of the dashboard illuminated Brooke’s face as she admired her fresh manicure. “I suppose. If it weren’t for me, a charity case like her would never have even breathed the same air as someone of your status. She should be thanking her lucky stars.” She sighed, her tone turning bitter. “But she really went too far today. My face is so swollen I had to cancel my dinner with Ethan Vaughn. My dad spent months trying to set up that connection. If the Vaughn family gets insulted, we’re in deep trouble.” The light turned green. I stepped off the curb, walking directly past the hood of the Maybach. Liam’s eyes locked onto mine through the rain-streaked windshield. He saw me—completely drenched, my clothes clinging to my skin, my broken umbrella dripping in my hand. I remembered another storm, a year ago. We had been huddled under a single tiny umbrella, and I had whispered, “I wish we had a car. Just a cheap one, so we wouldn’t have to freeze like this.” He had pulled me closer, shielding me from the wind, and whispered, “We will, Audrey. I promise.” He already had one. He just never had any intention of letting me inside. The Maybach’s engine roared, and the luxury sedan sped past, kicking up a massive wave of dirty street water that drenched my legs. I pulled my wet coat tighter around myself, Brooke’s final words echoing in my mind. Vaughn. We shared the same last name, yet how could Ethan Vaughn and I live in such completely different worlds? He was the crown prince of Manhattan’s old money elite, born with a silver spoon, while I had aged out of a state-run foster home. As I stood lost in thought, a sleek black town car pulled up quietly beside the curb. I tried to step back, assuming it was another luxury vehicle about to splash me, but the passenger window slid down smoothly. Ethan Vaughn looked out at me, his dark eyes calm and serious. “Audrey,” he said. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”

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1 I was in my third month of playing the part of Sabrina Sinclair’s trophy boyfriend when she wrapped her Porsche around a guardrail and ended up in a medically induced coma. Just as I was about to pack my designer luggage and slip out the back door like any sensible gold digger, a stream of neon-blue text floated across my vision, looking exactly like the live chat on a Twitch stream. [These boy toys have absolutely no vision. She’s just in a coma, not dead. She’ll wake up in three years.] I froze. I rubbed my eyes hard, but another line of text scrolled past immediately: [Sabrina Sinclair is going to be Chicago’s wealthiest tech mogul. When these freeloaders realize what a massive cash cow they walked away from, they’re going to die of regret.] I didn’t hesitate. I flung my cashmere coat onto the chair, turned on my heel, and threw myself over Sabrina’s ICU bed, weeping hysterically. “Sabrina! Oh my god, Sabrina! Don’t worry, even if the whole world gives up on you, I never will!” [Wait, Reid isn’t leaving? Whatever, even if he plays the devoted nurse, she’s still going to choose Tristan in the end. Tristan looks ninety percent like her late husband, Thomas. Tristan is the destined male lead here.] [Besides, Tristan is too smart to show up now. Taking care of a vegetable is exhausting. The suffering belongs to the side character; the sweet fruits of victory belong to the male lead. Classic.] My throat hitched, and my sobbing faltered into a pathetic squeak. My ticket to the high life was going to run off with some look-alike? So what? I was here for the money, not the romance. Before she could dump me, I was going to scrape enough gold off this relationship to set myself up for life. As a top-tier kept man, I only played high-stakes games. I looked around the sterile, empty private suite and let out a soft laugh. A trophy boyfriend is paid to look pretty, not to empty bedpans. I pulled out my phone and dialed Vivian Ross, Sabrina’s executive assistant. “Mr. Carter?” Vivian’s voice was clipped, professional, and entirely cold. “Ms. Sinclair is hospitalized. Your contract is officially void. Please do not contact this office again—” “Vivian,” I interrupted, my voice sharp. “Is Sabrina dead?” “What? Of course not. She’s in critical condition, but—” “Then why the hell is she lying in a hospital bed alone, with not a single person here to look after her?” I snapped, not giving her a chance to breathe. “Or did her most trusted advisor decide to jump ship the moment she went under, just to suck up to the next CEO in line? Are you really that certain she’s never waking up?” Silence stretched over the line. When Vivian spoke again, the dismissive edge was gone, replaced by her usual guarded respect. “My apologies, Mr. Carter. It was an oversight. I will be at the hospital shortly.” The moment the call ended, my vision erupted in a flurry of scrolling comments. [How is Reid so arrogant? He’s literally a paid plaything. How does he dare talk to an executive assistant like that?] [Does he not know his place? He’s embarrassing himself.] [I can’t wait for Vivian to show up and put him in his place.] When Vivian arrived forty minutes later, I met her with an icy, disappointed glare. “I know the contract is legally void, Vivian,” I said, preempting her. “But I’m not leaving. Sabrina paid for my father’s heart surgery. Now that she’s the one fighting for her life, I’m staying by her side until she opens her eyes.” Vivian looked at me, her eyes scanning my face for any sign of a bluff. “The doctors aren’t optimistic, Mr. Carter. She might not wake up for three years, five years… or ever. If that’s the case—” “If she never wakes up, then I’ll stay for the rest of my life.” I met her skeptical gaze with absolute candor. “Look, I come from nothing. I don’t have a pedigree, I don’t have a safety net, and I certainly don’t have a trust fund. This is my one shot at changing my destiny. I’m betting everything on Sabrina. If she stays under, I accept my loss. But if she wakes up, my life changes forever.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “You’re a smart woman, Vivian. You can keep climbing the corporate ladder at Sinclair Enterprises, but leave a line open here. When the tide turns, keeping a foot in Sabrina’s camp might just be your ticket back to the top.” The floating comments blurred into a chaotic mess. [What a calculating snake! Reid is literally admitting he’s using her as a ladder.] [He’s so shameless. Vivian, kick him out! Don’t let his silver tongue fool you.] Vivian stood quietly for two long minutes, her gaze searching mine. Finally, a tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. “Is there anything you need me to coordinate, Mr. Carter?” I smiled back. “First, I want a job at Sinclair Enterprises. Any department will do. If Sabrina doesn’t wake up, I still need to make a living. Second, I’ll oversee her daily care, but I need you to lease an apartment for me within walking distance of the hospital so I can be here every day.” [Is he serious? He’s a community college dropout, how does he expect to get hired at a Fortune 500 company?] [Entry-level salaries there start at eighty grand. Tell him to kick rocks, Vivian!] Vivian didn’t hesitate. “Consider it done.” The comments went wild. I just grinned. They were right—I was taking the scenic route. In this economy, a good career trajectory is hard to find, let alone one with rapid growth and high-paying opportunities. A kept man’s ultimate evolution isn’t to remain a pet. It’s to become the predator. 2 I immediately hired four elite private nurses, paying them top dollar to provide round-the-clock, meticulous care. It was hilarious to watch the comments complain about the cost. Why should I skimp on her care? The company was footing the bill anyway. Vivian assigned me to the sales department—the absolute most brutal, high-turnover division in the company. She was clearly still testing me, hoping the grueling pressure would make me quit. But she underestimated how badly I wanted to rewrite my life. Within a year, I was the top-performing sales representative in the regional division. My annual income, bolstered by heavy commissions, officially crossed into seven figures. Yet, I never let my performance at work overshadow my commitment to Sabrina. No matter how late I pulled overtime, I went to the hospital every single night. I sat by her bed, talking to her about my day. I walked the halls, building rapport with the doctors, consulting with specialists, and offering comforting words to other patients’ families. To the hospital staff and anyone looking on, I became the epitome of the devoted, grief-stricken boyfriend. Loyal. Incurably romantic. Selfless. When the opportunity for a promotion to Sales Manager came up, I turned it down. Instead, I requested a transfer to the Investment Department as a entry-level analyst. The comments watching my life play out were utterly baffled. [Is Reid out of his mind? He was about to be promoted to manager, and now he wants to start over from the bottom in investments?] [By the way, those two massive projects that eventually turn Sabrina into a billionaire are arriving in two weeks. It’s a shame the investment team is too blind to see their value and rejects them. Luckily, Sabrina discovers them herself after she wakes up.] I kept my face entirely blank, silently memorizing every scrap of information. I worked through a fever, refusing to take a single sick day, terrified I would miss the window. Finally, on a rainy Tuesday morning, the virtual chat lit up with excitement. [Here it is! The project that’s going to change everything. Who would have guessed Aegis Energy’s solid-state battery tech would completely disrupt the market?] [Quiet down, guys. The investment board is going to veto it anyway. They’re clueless.] During the pitch meeting, I sat quietly in the back, acting as a glorified shadow. When the board inevitably passed on the project, I volunteered to escort the founders to the parking garage. Once we reached the concrete basement, I stepped in front of them, blocking the elevator doors. “My company might have passed on your proposal,” I said, handing them my personal card. “But I believe in your technology. I want to invest in Aegis Energy under my own name. Money won’t be an issue.” Under their stunned gazes, we signed a preliminary contract right there on the hood of a sedan. The moment our hands met, the comments scrolled past so fast they were a blue smear. [What is this guy doing?! He’s literally stealing the female lead’s destiny! That’s a billion-dollar venture!] [Is he a regressor? How does he know about this?] [Whatever you do, don’t let him get his hands on tomorrow’s EcoLoop project!] The next morning, I executed the exact same maneuver with the green energy recycling start-up, EcoLoop. The virtual chat went entirely numb. There were curses, tears, and eventually, desperate pleas. [You’re just a man, why do you have to work so hard? If you just let Sabrina go, we can petition the collective consciousness to let her keep you as her exclusive kept lover.] [Being the man behind a powerful woman is so much easier. You get pampered, loved, bought luxury cars and expensive gifts. Why choose the hard road?] Why be a favorite concubine when I could build my own empire? I ignored the whining. Over the next few weeks, I picked up several quick-turnaround, mid-sized ventures, using their rapid returns to fund my two major acquisitions. And then, the day arrived for the “destined male lead” to enter the picture. [Tristan is finally on shift tomorrow! He’s assigned to Sabrina’s private wing.] [In a week, Sabrina is going to wake up. The very first thing she’ll see is Tristan working tirelessly by her bedside. It’s going to be love at first sight!] [She’ll think Tristan was the one who nursed her through those three years. The romantic tension is going to be insane. Ha! Reid worked himself to the bone for nothing!] 3 Someone was trying to harvest my crops? I had guarded this billionaire for over a thousand days. No one was stealing my harvest. First thing the next morning, I initiated a transfer to move Sabrina to a standard, multi-patient general ward. The head nurse was horrified. Given Sabrina’s wealth, a general ward was practically an insult. “I feel like the private suite is too sterile, too isolating,” I lied smoothly, letting my eyes well up with performative tears. “Sabrina’s vitals are improving. A livelier environment with ambient noise might give her the sensory stimulation she needs to wake up. I want her to feel the warmth of the living world.” And just like that, before Tristan could even clock in for his first shift, I had Sabrina wheeled out of his assigned wing. As we crossed paths in the corridor, Tristan glanced toward the gurney, but I casually stepped into his line of sight, blocking his view entirely. Not knowing the exact moment she would wake, I took a two-week leave of absence from work. I lived in that hospital room, sleeping in an uncomfortable plastic chair, running to the bathroom only when absolutely necessary. On the seventh morning, the floating comments began to flicker wildly. She’s waking up! I leaped out of my chair, draped myself over the edge of her mattress, and buried my face in my arms right beside her hand, making sure my exhausted, pale profile was perfectly positioned toward her. I closed my eyes and pretended to be fast asleep. When Sabrina opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a handsome, deeply exhausted man holding her hand, sleeping fitfully by her side. I let my eyelashes flutter, slowly opening my eyes to look at her. “Sabrina? Oh my god… you’re awake? You’re really awake?” “One thousand, one hundred and eighty-four days,” I sobbed, letting the tears spill over. “You’re finally back.” Sabrina’s awakening threw the entire company into a frenzy. Executives and board members flooded the room, but I quietly withdrew to the corner, playing the part of the devoted, unassuming partner who only cared that she was safe. When the room finally cleared, Sabrina reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me close. “Reid,” she said, her voice raspy but fierce. “Vivian told me everything. You were the only one who didn’t leave. You’ve suffered so much for me.” Billionaires have a wonderfully practical way of showing gratitude. Within forty-eight hours, she gifted me a penthouse, a custom sports car, and wired a nine-figure sum to my personal account as “living expenses.” To ensure the longevity of my investment, I spent the next few weeks reinforcing my devoted persona. During her physical therapy, I walked alongside her, encouraging her to take slow laps around the hospital gardens. I even coaxed her to eat in the public cafeteria to “experience normal life again.” Every time we went out, it was a masterclass in public relations. “Oh, Reid! Your girlfriend is finally awake!” a nurse called out. “Your dedication paid off.” “Reid is a saint,” an elderly visitor whispered to his wife. “He was here every single day, rain or shine.” With every public interaction, Sabrina’s affection for me deepened. The gifts became a daily occurrence: designer watches, bespoke cufflinks, gold bullion, luxury SUVs, and cash. Even with my high expectations, the sheer volume of wealth was staggering. Striking while the iron was hot, I requested to work directly from her VIP suite so I could manage my investments while keeping her company. I fed her, kept her entertained with lighthearted gossip, and occasionally asked for her advice on business matters. We fell into a comfortable, domestic rhythm. One evening, as she held me close, her chin resting on my head, she murmured softly, “Reid, let’s make it official. Let’s get married and spend the rest of our lives together. What do you say?” I buried my face in her shoulder and nodded slowly. The trophy boyfriend was finally securing the crown. The next day, confident in our arrangement, I returned to the office full-time. To make her own work easier, Sabrina transferred back to the VVIP wing. For the first time in three years, the virtual comments celebrated as if they had won a war. [Oh my god, they’re finally going to meet! The legendary ‘glance of destiny’ is happening!] [Look! Tristan just tripped and fell right into Sabrina’s arms!] 4 I watched the screen of comments with a detached calm, then quietly called my broker to liquidate several of the luxury watches and cars Sabrina had given me, funneling the cash straight into Aegis and EcoLoop. The projects were already beginning to yield massive returns. When I arrived at the hospital that evening, Tristan was indeed draped across Sabrina’s lap, looking flustered and delicate, though he showed no rush to get up. “What… what is going on here?” My voice trembled. I stepped back, my eyes wide with hurt, my hand flying to my mouth as if to stifle a sob. Sabrina panicked instantly, shoving Tristan away so hard he nearly hit the bedside table. “Reid! It’s not what it looks like. Tristan’s blood sugar dropped suddenly, and I was just holding him up—” Tristan hit the floor, staring up at Sabrina with wide, tear-filled eyes, but she didn’t even look at him. He shot me a venomous glare, scrambled to his feet, and pushed past me, deliberately clipping my shoulder as he stormed out. I forgave Sabrina with a display of quiet, magnanimous grace. She, consumed by guilt, immediately wired another massive sum to my account to “make things right.” [The second lead is so shallow. All he cares about is money. Our Tristan is so pure; he only cares about true love.] [Sabrina doesn’t even realize she’s falling for Tristan yet. She’s hurting him just to placate this gold digger. She’s going to regret this so much.] Over the next three months, the comments were filled with romantic developments between them. Sabrina “accidentally” brushing Tristan’s hand; Tristan “accidentally” falling onto her lap during a reflex test. I caught them in these intimate, lingering moments regularly. Every time, I played my part: I cried, I made a scene, I demanded answers. And every time, Sabrina explained, comforted me, and bought my silence with more assets. But I could feel the routine wearing thin. Her apologies were becoming perfunctory, and the look in her eyes when she watched Tristan was growing increasingly intense with curiosity and a strange, lingering familiarity. The plot was pulling them together, and no amount of my interference could stop it. The day after Sabrina gifted me a massive countryside estate, Tristan blocked my path on my way to the office. “Reid, are you blind?” he sneered, his delicate face twisting with arrogance. “She doesn’t love you anymore. She loves me. How do you still have the nerve to cling to her?” I rolled my eyes. “She calls me her fiancé, Tristan. I don’t care who she looks at; I’m the one who’s getting married to her. You’re just a side piece she keeps in the dark.” Tristan raised his hand as if to strike me, but he froze, his fingers trembling in the air before he dropped his arm. What a coward. “Don’t act so high and mighty,” he hissed. “I know you started out as her kept plaything. You only got promoted because of those three years. You won’t win. Just wait—in a few days, I’ll make sure you’re out of her life for good.” He turned and strutted away, his shoulders high. I watched him go, completely unbothered. Honestly, I had accumulated more than enough wealth, and my investment portfolio was becoming too demanding for me to keep playing this exhausting game of domestic jealousy. I just needed Tristan to be competent enough to give me a clean exit. A week later, I received a text from an unknown number. The trap was set. It was time to leave. When I arrived at the VVIP wing, the corridor was already packed with reporters, their cameras flashing. I smiled to myself—this was going to be spectacular. Under the harsh glare of the media lights, the door to Sabrina’s suite was wide open. Inside, Sabrina and Tristan were caught in a state of clear disarray, her coat hastily draped over her bare shoulders. A reporter spotted me and shoved a microphone into my face. “Mr. Carter! Ms. Sinclair has been caught in a compromising position with her private nurse, despite your three years of loyal devotion. As her fiancé, what is your response to this betrayal?” I let my eyes redden, casting one final, lingering look of deep sorrow at Sabrina before putting on a brave face for the cameras. “Ms. Sinclair and I actually ended our romantic relationship amicably some time ago,” I said, my voice steady but thick with emotion. “We are currently just close friends and business partners. Since both Ms. Sinclair and Mr. Tristan are single, it is entirely natural for them to explore their feelings. Please refrain from using terms like ‘infidelity’ or ‘betrayal’ to tarnish her reputation. Sinclair Enterprises will not hesitate to pursue legal action against any defamatory press.” Behind me, I heard Sabrina let out a choked, devastated cry of disbelief. I turned away, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across my face.

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1 After three years of managing our firm’s London branch, I stepped off the plane at Logan Airport and went straight to Cambridge City Hall. I hadn’t even checked into my apartment. I just wanted to finally get our marriage license. But when Vanessa met me on the steps, she wasn’t holding paperwork. She was holding a newborn baby, wrapped in a thin, faded hospital blanket. Before I could even ask, she casually pressed the bundle into my arms. “She’s mine and Blake’s,” Vanessa said, her voice entirely flat, as if she were handing me a coffee order. “Her name is Daisy. You’re going to help me raise her.” My ears started ringing. The noise of the city traffic faded into a dull hum. Behind Vanessa, Blake Miller—my childhood best friend—stepped out from the shadow of a brick pillar, a smug, easy grin plastered across his face. “We got wasted one night, Austin,” Blake said, chuckling as he clapped a hand on my shoulder. “One thing led to another. Hey, look at the bright side—you get to be a dad the second your transfer ends. Quite the welcome-home gift, right?” I looked from Blake’s grinning face to Vanessa’s cool, detached eyes. My hands trembled beneath the weight of the infant. “Is this some kind of sick joke to you two?” Blake’s laugh grew louder, sharper. “I told you, Nessa! I bet her fifty bucks you wouldn’t cry. I knew you’d take it like a man. Since I won, she’s keeping her promise to take me on that backpacking trip across South America. We’re leaving tonight.” Vanessa reached out, gently patting Blake’s arm with an affection she hadn’t shown me in years. Then she looked back at me, her tone dripping with a patronizing pity. “Look, Austin, my daughter is your daughter now. Just take good care of her while we’re gone. When I get back, we’ll get our license. I promise.” Without waiting for me to answer, she took Blake’s hand, and they walked down the stone steps. I stood there, frozen on the bustling sidewalk, looking down at the baby. Her skin had a distinct, deep yellow cast—severe jaundice. I called out their names, but neither of them turned around. They just kept walking, merging into the crowd. Three years later, she walked into my design studio in downtown Boston. “I’m here to keep my promise, Austin,” Vanessa said, stepping into my office with her chin held high. “I’m ready to marry you.” She walked toward my desk, pulling a small velvet box from her designer handbag. “But there’s a catch. For Daisy’s sake, Blake and I had to legally register our marriage last year to sort out her trust and legal status. So, I can’t give you a marriage license right now. But we can still have a beautiful, lavish wedding. Just for us.” She opened the box, revealing a platinum band, and reached for my left hand. I pulled my hand back, stepping out of her reach. “Save the ring, Vanessa. My wife already bought me one.” Vanessa froze, her hand hovering in the empty air. Her eyes drifted to my bare ring finger, and the brief flash of doubt in her eyes was quickly replaced by a familiar, patronizing confidence. “You’re still doing this?” she sighed, shaking her head. “You always did love playing hard to get when you were angry. Stop throwing a tantrum, Austin. I’m back now, aren’t I?” She reached up, trying to pinch my cheek the way she used to. I turned my head away, taking another step back. “Vanessa, you and I ended three years ago. There is no ‘us.’” Deep down, a sudden pang of regret hit me. I had been in such a rush this morning that I’d left my wedding band sitting on the bathroom sink. Vanessa let her hand drop, a look of weary tolerance settling over her features. “I know you’re still hurt about what happened with Blake. But it is what it is. I had to find a compromise that kept everyone happy. I’m trying to do the right thing here.” “A compromise?” I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Your idea of a compromise is giving him the legal marriage and giving me the party?” “Of course,” she said, as if explaining basic math to a child. “Blake’s daughter can’t be legally classified as born out of wedlock. It would ruin her standing in the family. But don’t worry, we won’t make our wedding too public. I don’t want to hurt Blake’s feelings.” I stared at her, genuinely amazed by the sheer scale of her delusion. “And you honestly believed I’d just sit here, waiting for three years, eager to jump into this absolute circus?” She smiled, interpreting my disbelief as a sign of weakness. “Austin, you loved me so much you almost died for me. I know I took a little detour, but I knew you’d never actually leave.” She was referring to our college graduation trip in the White Mountains. She had slipped near a steep ravine and fallen. The search and rescue team had looked for twenty-four hours and were ready to call it off, but I refused to stop. I scrambled down the slippery rocks in the dark, eventually finding her unconscious near the riverbank. I carried her up on my back, but slipped on a wet boulder, striking my head. I spent three days in a medically induced coma. When I finally woke up, she had wept over my hospital bed, whispering, “Austin, I know you love me, but you can’t throw your life away like that.” Later, during my three years in London, she stood me up at City Hall multiple times when I flew back on leave. When I asked her if she was afraid of losing me, she had run her fingers through my hair and said, “You love me more than life itself, Austin. You’re not going anywhere.” It was my own devotion that had given her the armor of absolute certainty. My love had turned into her license to abuse it. I opened my mouth, ready to tell her exactly who my wife was, but the office door swung open before I could speak. Blake walked in, looking exactly as he had three years ago, wearing the same easy, shameless grin. He acted as though he hadn’t systematically dismantled my life, opening his arms wide. “Austin! Man, it’s good to be back. Did you miss me?” I sidestepped his embrace. His arms hovered awkwardly before he slowly lowered them, his grin faltering. “Come on, don’t be like that,” Blake grumbled, his tone turning whiny. “I literally gave you my own daughter to raise. Why are you still holding a grudge?” At one point, their betrayal had felt like a physical weight in my chest. Now, looking at them, I realized they deserved each other. They possessed the exact same toxic trait: the ability to inflict maximum damage on someone else and convince themselves they were handing out blessings. “Look, I brought you a peace offering,” Blake said, reaching into his leather messenger bag and pulling out a couple of watches. I glanced at them. They were cheap, promotional giveaways from a high-end brand—the kind of junk they give you when you buy a real watch. I remembered seeing Vanessa post the actual, five-figure timepiece she had bought for Blake on her Instagram a few months ago. Years ago, I had saved up to buy a watch from that same brand, and Vanessa had scoffed, calling it an “unnecessary, pretentious waste of money.” When I didn’t reach for the watches, Vanessa chimed in, her voice hardening. “Is this how your mother raised you, Austin? Blake went out of his way to bring you a gift, and you’re just going to stand there with a sour face?” Before I could reply, Blake grabbed my wrist. “Forget the manners, Austin. Where’s my girl? Let me see her.” The memory of the fragile baby they had abandoned flashed in my mind, leaving a dull ache. I shook his hand off my arm. “I haven’t seen your daughter in years. Go ask Vanessa’s mother.” Vanessa let out a cold, sharp laugh. “You haven’t seen her? Then who the hell is that?” She pointed to the large, framed photograph hanging on the wall beside my desk. It was a picture of me holding my daughter, Lily, at the beach last summer. “That’s my daughter—” I began. “It’s her!” Blake cut me off, pushing past me to rip the frame off the wall. His fingers trembled as he touched the glass, his eyes instantly welling with tears. “Nessa, look at her. She’s beautiful. She has your eyes.” Vanessa leaned in, her expression softening into something remarkably tender. “She really does. She’s perfect.” Blake wiped his eyes, turning to me with a look of deep, righteous indignation. “Austin, I thought we were brothers. Why didn’t you send me any photos over the last three years?” I stared at him, incredulous. “Are you serious right now?” The moment they left for South America, Vanessa had blocked my number and all my social media accounts to “prevent any drama.” And whenever I had tried to call Blake during those first terrifying weeks with the baby, he had rejected my calls, busy posting photos of their luxury resorts and yacht parties. “This is my daughter,” I said slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “Why on earth would I send you photos of her?” “That’s enough, Austin,” Vanessa snapped, her patience finally evaporating. “We let you look after her, we didn’t hand over legal custody. You don’t own her.” She looked around my studio, her nose wrinkling in disapproval. “We left her with you so you could focus on being a parent. Clearly, you’re too busy running this little business to give her the attention she needs. Since Blake doesn’t have a job yet, you’re going to sign this studio over to him. It’ll give him an income, and it’ll free up your schedule to focus on the child.” For a second, I thought the room had lost oxygen. “You want me to hand over the business I spent three years building… to Blake? On what planet does that make sense?” Vanessa rubbed her temples, letting out a heavy, theatrical sigh. “Blake is your best friend, Austin. He’s been traveling for three years and has nothing on his resume. Is it really that hard for you to help him get back on his feet?” Blake looked at me with wide, puppy-dog eyes. “Yeah, Austin. You’ve always looked out for me. You wouldn’t say no to this, right?” A wave of disgust washed over me. Blake had grown up in a broken home, ignored by his mother after she remarried. I was the one who used my own savings to help pay his college tuition. During my final year in London, Blake had called me, panicking because his girlfriend was pregnant and wanted to keep the baby. I had never met the girl, but I didn’t ask questions. I helped him coordinate medical appointments and even offered financial support. I remembered him laughing over the phone, saying, “You’re going to be the godfather, Austin. No doubts about it.” And then, the day I landed, he told me the mother was Vanessa. I looked directly into Blake’s eyes. “All those times Vanessa stood me up when I came home from London… you were the one who made sure she didn’t show, weren’t you?” Blake’s gaze flickered with a brief, guilty panic before he quickly recovered. “Look, I was going through a rough patch back then. I needed her. Besides, that’s ancient history now. Why are you bringing it up? Just tell me where my kid is.” His eyes filled with tears again, playing the victim perfectly. The sheer hypocrisy made my temple throb. Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a text from my wife: My afternoon is clear. I’ll be there to pick you up in twenty minutes. I looked at the clock. She’d be here soon, and the last thing I wanted was for her to run into Vanessa and Blake. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice even. “Your daughter is not here. I have to get ready to leave, so please, get out of my office.” “How can you be so heartless, Austin?” Blake suddenly boiled over, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. “She’s my flesh and blood! You have no right to keep her from me!” He was crying now, but his grip was vice-like, his fingernails digging straight through my shirt into my skin. I tried to pry his hands off, but as soon as I pulled back, he threw himself backward, landing hard on the hardwood floor. Vanessa rushed to his side, pulling him up before turning on me like a wild animal. “Austin! What the hell is wrong with you? He just wants to see his daughter! Why did you push him?” It was like looking at a stranger. Three years of unchecked entitlement had completely eroded whatever intelligence Vanessa once had. Blake whimpered, rubbing his elbow. “It’s fine, Nessa. He’s clearly bitter. Let’s just come back tomorrow.” Vanessa’s eyes flared with anger. “Apologize,” she demanded, pointing a finger at my face. I stood ground, silent. “Fine,” she said, her voice dropping into a cold, transactional register. “If you won’t apologize, you’ll sign the studio transfer deed over to Blake as compensation.” She pulled a document from her bag and slapped it onto my desk. I glanced down. Blake’s signature was already at the bottom. They had planned this before they even walked through my door. “And if I don’t sign?” I asked. “Then the wedding is off,” Vanessa said flatly. “You’ll never get to stand at the altar with me.” A short, sharp laugh escaped my throat. “Vanessa, who said I wanted to marry you? I told you, I’m already married.” Vanessa’s grip tightened on my wrist. “Stop lying to save face, Austin! Who else would ever marry you?” I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to tell her that my wife was Audrey Harrington—the brilliant, terrifyingly capable eldest daughter of the Harrington family. The woman who, unlike Vanessa, actually ran the family empire. Vanessa leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Hey, stop being dramatic. I’m finally home. Do you really want to push me away over some stupid paperwork? Just sign it. I’ll make sure some money finds its way to your account. Blake is your brother. Just do this for him, and let’s put this behind us.” “You want me to give up my life’s work… to appease your husband?” I asked, completely dumbfounded. “Why do you have to be so incredibly petty?” Vanessa hissed, her frustration breaking through. “Blake and I have to take Daisy to see my parents eventually. If he doesn’t have a respectable job, my mother will never let him through the door. You know what she’s like.” Of course I did. When I was a fresh college graduate working eighty-hour weeks, Mrs. Harrington had pulled me aside at a charity gala. She told me in no uncertain terms that a middle-class kid like me would never be welcome in their family. I had been devastated, even considering breaking up with Vanessa to spare her the drama, but my love for her had made me stay. I worked myself to the bone, sleeping five hours a night to build a reputation. Vanessa had never stood up to her mother for me. But now, she was willing to steal my business to protect Blake from that exact same judgment. The sheer absurdity of it broke something inside me. “Get the hell out of—” “Daddy, I’m back!” The glass door of the studio swung open. My daughter, Lily, ran into the room. She was only two, but she was tall for her age, inheriting my genes. The nanny usually brought her by the office around this time so we could drive home together. But before Lily could even reach my desk, Blake lunged forward, snatching her up into his arms. “My sweet girl,” Blake sobbed, clutching her tightly. “Daddy’s finally here.” Lily shrieked, her small body stiffening in terror. She began to sob, flailing her arms toward me. “Daddy! I want Daddy! Let me go! You’re a bad man!” “Let her go!” I yelled, stepping forward to pull her away. But before my hand could touch her, Blake spun around and delivered a hard, stinging slap across my face. “Don’t touch my daughter, Austin!” Blake roared, his eyes bloodshot and wild. “I let you watch her, I didn’t give you permission to steal her from me! You tried to turn her against her own father!” Lily’s cries escalated into high-pitched, panicked screams. When the nanny tried to step in and comfort her, Blake slapped her hand away too. “I’m taking my daughter home today,” Blake shouted, backing toward the door with Lily clutched to his chest. “And you’re never seeing her again.” Seeing my daughter’s pale, terrified face, my heart shattered. I lunged forward, desperate to get her back. “She’s my daughter! Let her go!” But Vanessa grabbed my jacket from behind, dragging me back with surprising force. “Austin, stop this! Are you obsessed? She’s three years old and she doesn’t even recognize her real father because of how you’ve brainwashed her!” I stumbled backward, my lower back slamming hard against the sharp corner of my mahogany desk. A white-hot pain flared up my spine, making me gasp. “She is my daughter!” I screamed at Vanessa, my voice cracking with rage. “I am the only father she has ever known!” Vanessa’s face twisted in fury, and she raised her hand to strike me. But a sudden, sharp cry from Blake stopped her. Lily, terrified and desperate to reach me, had sunk her teeth deep into the flesh of Blake’s hand. Blake cried out in pain, and in a blind reflex, he violently flung the toddler away from him. Lily’s small body sailed through the air. She couldn’t catch her balance, falling hard against the brass base of a floor lamp. There was a sickening thud as her forehead hit the metal, and blood immediately began to seep from a gash near her hairline. “She has a coagulation disorder!” I screamed, my vision turning red. “She won’t stop bleeding! Get out of my way!” I tried to crawl toward her, but Vanessa kicked me square in the knee, sending me crashing back down to the floor. “Austin!” Vanessa yelled, her face pale but her voice defensive. “You raised her to be a monster! She just bit her own father! You brought this on yourself!” The nanny rushed to Lily, trying to apply pressure with a tissue, but the blood was already soaking through, spilling down her small face. “Vanessa, she is bleeding out!” I roared, pushing myself up despite the pain in my leg. “Are you blind?” I gathered Lily into my arms. She was sobbing weakly, her voice fading to a whisper. “Daddy… it hurts…” But Blake lunged at me again, tearing her from my grasp. “Nice try, Austin. You’re just trying to scare us so you can keep her. A little cut doesn’t require a hospital. You’re trying to ruin my relationship with my daughter.” Vanessa stood by his side, her expression hardening into a mask of cold indifference. “Blake is right. You’ve spoiled her, Austin. A little blood and she’s crying like the world is ending? She’s a Harrington. She needs to be tougher than this.” “Sir! Sir, she’s losing consciousness!” the nanny cried out. I looked over. Lily’s eyes had rolled back, her small head lolling uselessly against Blake’s arm as the crimson stain spread across her collar. “Give her to me!” I screamed, throwing myself at Blake. I managed to rip Lily from his arms and ran out the door toward the parking lot. But as I reached my SUV, a heavy object struck the back of my head. My vision went black for a split second, and my knees buckled, sending me kneeling onto the hot asphalt, still clutching Lily to my chest. “I told you, you’re not touching my kid,” Blake hissed, holding a heavy metal paperweight he’d taken from my desk. Vanessa caught up, looking down at me with utter contempt. “You’ve really lost your mind, Austin. Calling yourself ‘sir’ in front of the nanny? Who gave you the right to put on these aristocratic airs?” She reached down, attempting to pry Lily from my arms. I squeezed my daughter tight, refusing to let go, even as my head throbbed with a dull, sickening ache. Blake grabbed my shoulder, dragging me backward onto the pavement. “If you want a kid, go breed your own. Stop trying to steal mine, you pathetic loser.” Vanessa didn’t say a word. She didn’t even look at the bleeding, unconscious child in her arms as she turned and headed toward their rental car. Blake followed closely behind. I lay on the asphalt, my vision blurring, a cold desperation clawing at my chest. Then, the screech of tires tore through the quiet afternoon air. A sleek, black Mercedes SUV swerved into the parking lot, blocking Vanessa’s car. The door flew open, and a woman stepped out, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. “Who the hell do you think you are, touching my daughter?” Audrey’s voice echoed across the parking lot, cold, sharp, and commanding.

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1 The summer vacation plans had been in motion for weeks. My mother spent half a month obsessing over itineraries. My father booked the oceanfront suite. My brother, Dylan, picked out a brand-new performance surfboard. My sister, Sadie, spent hours online shopping for breezy, photo-ready dresses. The night before we were set to leave, I helped them pack. I was zipping up Dylan’s duffel bag when I noticed the airline envelope sitting on the coffee table. Inside were the physical boarding passes—crisp, glossy cardstock. Four tickets. David Mercer. Diane Mercer. Dylan Mercer. Sadie Mercer. None for me. My mother caught me staring at the pile and froze, her hand hovering over a bottle of high-end sunblock. “Oh,” she said, a brief, awkward pause breaking her voice. “Summer, sweetie… I forgot to count you in.” Dylan didn’t even glance up from his phone, scrolling through his social media feed. “Then she can just stay home and watch the place.” Sadie lowered her head, her voice barely a whisper. “Maybe… maybe I shouldn’t go then?” My mother’s face softened with instant distress. “Don’t talk nonsense, Sadie. You’ve been looking forward to this trip for months.” My father walked over and patted my shoulder—two heavy, perfunctory thuds. “Summer, let’s skip it for you this time. Next time, we’ll take you to the coast.” I looked at those four tickets, the printed names glowing under the living room light, and let out a faint, dry smile. The next morning, they loaded their bags into an Uber and headed for the airport. I packed my life into a single suitcase, took the ten million dollars I’d won in the lottery, and boarded a flight to Clearwater—eleven hundred miles away. Under an endless sky, the road ahead stretched out into the unknown. I was never coming back. In truth, that winning ticket had been sitting in my drawer for two weeks before the beach trip. It was July 19th—my eighteenth birthday. I had kept quiet about it. I wanted to see if, during those final two weeks of my quiet, uncomplaining compliance, this family would remember to include me just once. They didn’t. On the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I got up early and boiled an egg for myself in the quiet kitchen. I had just cracked the shell when my mother poked her head out from the pantry. “Summer, don’t eat that,” she said casually. “Give it to your sister. Sadie needs the protein before her dance intensive.” I looked down at the warm egg in my palm. Steam was still rising from the cracked shell. “There are more in the pot, Mom.” “The ones in the pot are boiling hot. The one in your hand is already peeled—just let her have it.” Before I could answer, she reached over and slid it out of my hand. Sadie was sitting at the dining table in her pink ballet leotard, her hair slicked back into a tight bun. She looked up at me as our mother handed her the egg. “Sis, aren’t you eating?” I forced a tiny smile. “No.” She smiled back, bright and unburdened. “Thanks, Summer.” At lunch, Dylan came home from his morning workout. My mother had gone all out: garlic butter shrimp, spicy dungeness crab, and steamed egg with sea urchin. I have a severe shellfish allergy. When I was eight years old, a single bite of shrimp landed me in the emergency room. My skin broke out in hives, and my throat closed up so fast I couldn’t breathe. The doctor told my parents I could never touch shellfish again. But my mother always forgot. Or rather, whenever Dylan wanted seafood, my health became a detail too small to remember. She placed a bowl of cold, leftover white rice in front of me, topped with a spoonful of jarred pickled greens. “Summer, eat this. It’s really flavorful.” I didn’t say anything. I just lowered my head and shoved the rice into my mouth. It had been cooked the day before, stiff and dry. When I swallowed, it scraped against the back of my throat like sandpaper. Not a single person around that table remembered what day it was. That evening, my mother posted a photo on Facebook. Dylan was making a peace sign over a plate of crab legs, Sadie was grinning with a fork in her mouth, and my father was pouring soda into their glasses. I was sitting on the far edge of the frame, cut off so completely that only half of my bare forearm was visible. Her caption read: A lovely feast with my family, kicking off summer break early! My family. I opened the app, zoomed in, and stared at the image for a long time. That half-severed arm on the edge of the screen was the only proof I existed in that house. Later that night, taking out the trash, I passed the local convenience store down the street. The clerk was leaning against the doorway, taping a promotional flyer for the state lottery onto the glass window. Seeing me slow down, he smiled kindly. “Hey kiddo. You eighteen yet? Want to grab a scratcher or a draw ticket for good luck?” I was about to walk away. But then I remembered the date. It was my eighteenth birthday, after all. Maybe I was due for a little luck. “Today’s actually my eighteenth birthday,” I said softly. The clerk behind the counter paused, reached into a jar, and handed me a cherry lollipop. “Happy birthday, kid.” I gripped the paper stick of that cheap candy, and my eyes suddenly burned with a hot, terrible sting. The only birthday wish I received in the real world came from a complete stranger who didn’t even know my name. I pulled out a ten-dollar bill and bought a single quick-pick draw ticket. 2 When I got home, my mother was leaning over the sofa showing Sadie a board on Pinterest—aesthetic photoshoot ideas for the beach. Dylan was sprawled on the couch, reviewing options for customized surfboards. He had recently built a modest following on TikTok posting workout and action-sports videos, and he was desperately trying to curate his image to lock in brand deals with athletic companies. My father looked up from his iPad. “We should really treat ourselves this break. Everyone’s worked hard this year.” My mother beamed. “I agree. Sadie’s been dying to get out to the ocean.” “I get to do surf lessons, right?” Dylan interrupted, not looking away from his screen. “Sign me up for the private coaching.” “Of course,” my father said cheerfully. “I’ll get you the best instructor on the beach.” I stood in the entryway, slipping off my shoes. Nobody asked me where I wanted to go. Nobody asked me how my day was. At ten o’clock, when the winning numbers were announced online, I locked my bedroom door and checked my ticket against the screen. I checked once. Twice. A third time. Seven numbers. Every single one matched. Jackpot. Ten million dollars before taxes. I stared at the glowing numbers on my phone for ten solid minutes, my pulse slow, steady, almost surreal. “Summer!” my mother shouted from the kitchen. “Come cut up some melon for your brother!” I slipped the lottery ticket inside my acceptance packet from Clearwater University. The thick envelope had arrived a week ago. My mother had torn it open when it came in the mail, glanced at the letterhead, and said, “Clearwater? That’s clear across the country. You’ll have to figure out your own living expenses, Summer—we still have to support your brother’s college fund.” Then she turned right back around to book Sadie’s beach photography session. I slid the acceptance letter and the winning ticket together, burying them deep under the winter sweaters in my bottom dresser drawer. One was my future. The other was my exit strategy. A profound calm washed over me. Eighteenth birthdays weren’t entirely devoid of gifts after all. At least the universe remembered me. Once the family vacation was officially set, the house transformed into a whirlwind of excitement. My mother created a meticulously detailed three-page itinerary document. Page one: Oceanfront resort bookings. Page two: Waterfront dining reservations. Page three: Scenic photography spots. At the top of every single page, she had typed: Itinerary for Four. I stood by her desk and asked quietly, “Four people?” She was busy comparing reviews for sea-view suites and didn’t look up. “Well, don’t you have college orientation paperwork to deal with?” I watched her face. “I never said I wasn’t going with you.” She finally paused, raising her head as if noticing my presence in the room for the first time that day. “Oh… Summer. You wanted to come too?” Dylan let out a loud snort from the living room. “What’s she gonna do there? She doesn’t even like the sun, and she won’t swim. She’ll just drag down our schedule.” Sadie played with her phone, her voice small and delicate. “If Summer wants to come, can’t we just pack an extra bag?” My mother instantly reached out to smooth Sadie’s hair. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. It’s your first professional photoshoot—Mom is going to make sure everything is perfect for you.” I lowered my eyes to the paper printed on the desk. The hotel was booked as a four-person suite. The dinner reservations were fixed for a four-course tasting menu for four. The rental car was a four-seater sedan. From the very beginning, there had never been a seat reserved for me. Over the next two weeks, I kept doing what I always did. I ran errands. I picked Sadie up from her dance studio. I picked up Dylan’s Amazon packages from the porch. I helped my mother cross items off her packing lists. At night, behind a locked door, I researched the legal procedures for claiming a major lottery prize. I looked up how to request anonymity under state law. I calculated the net lump-sum payout after federal and state taxes. I researched apartment rental prices in Clearwater, bank wealth management safety, and consulted with an estate lawyer online. I was eighteen now. I had my official ID. I had my own personal bank account. The lottery ticket had been purchased with my own debit card. I verified every single detail with cold, methodical precision. Not because I was greedy for the wealth, but because I knew them too well. If they found out before I left, I knew exactly what would happen. “Summer, you’re too young to handle this kind of money. Let us manage it for you.” “Your brother needs money for a down payment on a condo down the line.” “Your sister’s dance training is so expensive.” “We’re a family. Don’t be so selfish.” They would carve up that ticket using the knife of familial duty. A chunk for Dylan. A chunk for Sadie. A chunk for my parents’ mortgage. And for me? They’d hand me a pat on the head and a gentle reminder: “You’re just a girl going to school, Summer. You don’t need all that cash.” 3 A week before their scheduled departure, Clearwater University called my cell phone to confirm my enrollment in their early-arrival Urban Design program. I had just pressed the receiver to my ear when my mother pushed open my bedroom door without knocking. “Summer, go help Sadie pull up the zipper on her dress. She’s trying on her outfits.” I covered the phone speaker with my hand. “Mom, I’m on the phone with the university.” She frowned, her tone instantly sharp. “How long does pulling a zipper take? Don’t be ridiculous.” The admissions coordinator on the other end of the line was still speaking: “Ms. Mercer, your spot in the Urban Renewal Freshman Intensive has been finalized. Please ensure you arrive on campus by the 12th.” My mother caught the word Clearwater and her frown deepened into a scowl. As soon as I hung up, she stepped into the room. “Are you really going all the way across the country?” “Yes.” “What’s wrong with the state college ten miles down the road? It’s better for a girl to stay close to home. Get a teaching credential, get a stable local job—it’s safe.” “I want to go to Clearwater.” She let out a long, heavy sigh of disappointment. “You’ve always been like this. So stubborn, so full of your own ideas. But did you stop to think about what happens to this house if you just pack up and leave?” I looked at her, searching her eyes. “What happens to the house?” “Who’s going to drive Sadie to her weekend rehearsals?” she asked, as if the answer were glaringly obvious. “Who’s going to record Dylan’s athletic drills for his social media? Your father and I work full-time, Summer. Someone has to keep things running here.” A cold realization settled in my chest. She wasn’t sad to lose her daughter. She was stressed about losing her unpaid domestic help. In that moment, I realized there was no point in testing them anymore. The verdict was already in. Yet, I still stayed until the very end. I wanted to wait until the night before their trip—until those printed boarding passes were sitting on the counter—just to see if, at the absolute last second, a single one of them would realize I was being left behind. Three days before the trip, Dylan’s new custom surfboard arrived in the mail. Five hundred dollars. He unboxed it in the middle of the living room, practicing his stance and banging the heavy fiberglass tail against the coffee table with a loud thud. My mother only smiled, watching him affectionately. “Be careful with your knees, honey. Tomorrow we’re going to the mall to buy you those designer rash guards.” My university welcome packet arrived the same afternoon—a thin paper envelope. Dylan had sliced right through the top corner of it with his box cutter while opening his own parcel. I picked up the torn envelope from the hallway floor. Dylan glanced at it sideways. “It’s just paper. It’s not like there’s money inside.” I wiped the dust off the cardboard cover and didn’t reply. My mother was ironing Sadie’s white dresses nearby. “Summer, where’s that hard-shell luggage set of yours?” “In my closet.” “Bring it out so Sadie can use it. Her dresses can’t get wrinkled.” I looked up. “I need that suitcase for my own move.” My mother finally turned her full attention to me, exasperated. “Aren’t you staying home while we’re at the beach?” “I’m leaving for Clearwater.” A heavy silence descended on the living room. Dylan burst out laughing from the rug. “Wait, you’re actually going? How are you even paying for it?” My father stepped in from the balcony, adjusting his glasses. “Did you figure out your tuition and housing deposits?” “I’ll manage it myself,” I said quietly. My father’s face darkened instantly. “Summer, do you think going off to college is a game? Food, housing, transportation, health insurance—do you think those things drop from the sky?” Dylan leaned against his surfboard, tossing a roll of grip tape in his hand. “If you’re so tough, don’t ask Mom and Dad for a single penny.” I met his gaze dead-on. “I won’t.” The whole room stunned into silence. My mother’s brows knit together. “Don’t talk out of spite, Summer.” I wasn’t talking out of spite. I simply had money now. I didn’t need to depend on them for my survival anymore. I dragged my trunk back into my bedroom and closed the door. Outside, I heard Dylan’s voice carry through the thin drywall. “She’s just throwing a tantrum because we didn’t invite her on the trip. She’s being dramatic.” My father sighed. “Ignore her. She’ll get over it in a day or two.” “She used to be such an easy child,” my mother chimed in, her voice full of weary complaint. “Now she’s so resentful.” I sat down on the hardwood floor and began packing my essentials into my backpack. My driver’s license. My debit card. My university acceptance letter. My financial aid documents. My lottery ticket. And, tucked in the corner, a physical architectural model I had spent the last month building for my freshman design seminar. It was a scaled model of a deserted train station converted into a community library. I had named the project Sanctuary. I carefully placed the model inside a clear acrylic protective box and set it on my desk. Suddenly, a violent crashing sound erupted from the hallway outside, followed by the splintering of plastic. I rushed out. Dylan was standing on my desk chair, reaching up toward the high closet overhead to grab a duffel bag. He had stepped directly on my acrylic display case. The clear box was shattered into sharp shards. The miniature pitched roof of the library had collapsed inward, and the miniature wooden platform was snapped completely in half. I stood at the doorway, the blood rushing into my ears with a deafening roar. “Dylan Mercer.” 4 My father hurried out of his bedroom at the sound of my voice. “What happened now?” Dylan immediately raised his hands, pointing at the mess. “I accidentally bumped into her little art project, Dad, and she screamed my full name like I murdered someone.” My father glanced down at the broken plastic and wood scattered across the rug. “It’s just wood and glue, Summer. You can make another one. Your brother is traveling tomorrow—don’t ruin his mood over a toy.” I looked from my father’s impassive face to Dylan’s careless expression. In that exact second, every trace of sadness left my body. Sadness is a feeling reserved for those who still hold on to hope. I had none left. I knelt down on the floor and picked up the broken wooden pieces, one by one. That night, I stayed up until three in the morning repairing the model. The quick-dry wood glue stuck to my fingertips, peeling off a layer of skin when I rubbed them together, but I felt no pain at all. When it was finally reassembled, I packed the repaired model into the very bottom of my trunk. Then I placed my lottery ticket, my identification, and my legal paperwork into a cross-body bag that wouldn’t leave my side. Outside my window, the sky was beginning to turn light gray. I stared at the delicate, glued-together model and realized something simple: when something shatters, you can glue it back together, but the cracks remain forever. This family was no different. And I was done trying to mend it. On the night before their flight, I helped them pack their final items. “Summer, since you’re staying home anyway, organize these bags,” my mother instructed, tossing clothes onto the dining table. I didn’t argue. I packed Dylan’s surfboard accessories, Sadie’s white dresses, my father’s travel documents, and my mother’s skincare sets. “Make sure you keep an eye on the place while we’re gone,” my mother added casually, ticking items off her list. “Water the patio plants every two days. Dylan has a package arriving on Thursday—don’t open it. And if Sadie’s dance competition notice comes in the mail, make sure you put it on my desk.” My father put on his jacket. “There’s instant ramen in the pantry. If you’re hungry, cook that.” Dylan walked past my door. “Don’t go into my room while I’m gone.” Sadie held up a small, pearl-embellished shell charm. “Sis, I’ll bring you back real seashells from the ocean.” I looked at her and nodded faintly. “Okay.” That was the very last okay I would ever give them. They went to sleep early that night. I didn’t sleep at all. At four in the morning, I cleaned my bedroom until it was spotless. I smoothed out the bedspread. I wiped down the desk. All the old academic certificates, middle-school ribbons, and birthday cards they had forgotten to throw away were left behind in the top drawer. I walked out the front door with a single rolling suitcase. It was astonishingly light. Eighteen years in that house, and the things that were truly mine barely filled a bag. At five in the morning, I laid my house key softly on the shoe rack in the foyer. I pulled my old SIM card out of my phone, snapped it in half, and tossed it into the dumpster outside the building. At six-thirty, they boarded a shuttle to the airport. At six-forty-five, I boarded an express transit line to the terminal. At eight-twenty, their flight took off for the coast. At eight-forty-five, my flight lifted into the sky, headed for Clearwater. By noon, my mother tried to reach me to check if Dylan’s package had arrived. She wasn’t calling out of concern; she just needed a task done. The line was dead. My social media profiles were completely dark. At three in the afternoon, their family taxi pulled up to the luxury beach resort. At the exact same hour, back in our old neighborhood, the convenience store hung a bright red banner outside its doors: JACKPOT WINNER! $10 MILLION DRAW TICKET SOLD HERE! A neighbor took a photo of the banner and texted it directly to my mother: [Diane! The store owner posted in the neighborhood group chat that the ten-million-dollar winner was an eighteen-year-old girl who bought it on her birthday! Isn’t that Summer? Didn’t she just turn eighteen two weeks ago?] My mother stared at the text, the color draining from her face second by second. She frantically dialed the store owner. “Yeah, Diane, it was a young girl,” the owner confirmed over the line. “Bought it on her eighteenth birthday. I even gave her a cherry lollipop for good luck. I heard this morning she flew out to Clearwater to claim the prize at the state office.” My father snatched the phone from her hand, his voice rising in disbelief. Dylan bolted upright from the resort lounge chair. Sadie dropped her pearl shell charm onto the tile floor. Meanwhile, my plane touched down eleven hundred miles away. I slid my new SIM card into my phone. A text notification lit up the screen from the Clearwater State Lottery Office: [Ms. Summer Mercer, your prize verification appointment for tomorrow at 9:00 AM has been confirmed.] The skies were wide, the roads were long, and they were far too late to ever catch me.

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1 Three years into my relationship with Gavin, I came home with a heart full of light, ready to sit down with my mother and pick a wedding date. The sharp crack of her palm across my face echoed through the foyer before I even had time to take off my coat. The impact knocked my head back, my cheek burning hot and stinging instantly. “What wedding?” my mother snarled, her breath raspy with venom. “How shameless can you be? He’s your sister’s boyfriend!” I stood there, paralyzed, my hand flying up to cover my throbbing cheek. “Mom, what are you—” “Men these days are too good at faking it!” she cut in, her eyes wide, glittering with a terrifying sort of righteousness. “I was terrified Haley would pick the wrong guy, so I set him up with you first! I gave him to you for three years so you could test him out!” She stepped closer, her voice dropping into a firm, unyielding hiss. “Gavin was reserved for Haley from the very beginning. You don’t get to steal what belongs to your sister.” I stared at her, my vision blurring, completely unable to process the absurd, grotesque truth unfolding in front of me. I wasn’t a daughter bringing home her future husband. I was a guinea pig. A trial run. A terrible, suffocating clarity washed over me. Suddenly, the last three years made a twisted kind of sense. My mother—who had ignored me for most of my life—had been strangely insistent after I started dating Gavin. She constantly demanded that I bring him over for dinner, weekend brunches, family barbecues. For three long years, she had put Gavin through a brutal, invisible pressure test. She nitpicked his manners, scrutinized his background, pried into his finances, picking him apart inch by inch. I had thought she was just being a protective mother to me. It had all been for Haley. My mother was already pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor, muttering to herself in a high-pitched, excited blur. She was rambling about what a match made in heaven Gavin and Haley would be. “Honestly, at first, I wasn’t satisfied with Gavin at all,” she fussed, smoothing down her sweater with trembling fingers. “He was a bit too arrogant, didn’t know how to take care of anyone. A man like that was nowhere near good enough for Haley.” She stopped and looked at me, a proud, sickening smile touching her lips. “Thank God I was smart enough to steer him to you first. Three years by your side, and you smoothed out all his rough edges. Now he knows how to talk to women, how to cater to them, how to show affection. You broke him in nicely.” I bit the inside of my lip so hard I tasted copper, desperately fighting back the tears threatening to spill over. “Mom,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Gavin loves me. We’re getting married. I am not handing my fiancé over to Haley.” The room fell dead silent. My mother’s face transformed, contorting into pure, unadulterated rage. SLAP. The second blow hit the exact same spot on my cheek, harder this time. My vision flickered black for a second, a sharp ringing filling my ears. “Are you deaf?” she screamed, towering over me. “I said Gavin is Haley’s! He was only beside you because of your sister’s grace! The timing is right now—Haley is getting older, and it’s time you return him to her!” She grabbed my shoulders, shaking me violently. “Grow up for once in your life! Pick up your phone right now, call Gavin, and break it off!” Something inside me snapped. The years of quiet obedience, of trying so desperately to earn a shred of her affection, crumbled into dust. I opened my mouth to scream at her, to tear down the walls of this house with my rage— She turned her back on me, completely unbothered, and dialed her phone. “Brenda? Hi, sweetie!” Her voice instantly shifted into a cheerful, melodic sing-song as she talked to my aunt. “Oh, yes, yes! Haley’s finally dating someone wonderful… My heart can finally rest easy…” Every word out of her mouth was about Haley. She didn’t spare a single glance for the daughter standing two feet away, bleeding from the lip, her heart shattered into pieces. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stay in that house for another second. I turned and bolted through the front door into the brisk afternoon air, the cheerful murmur of her phone call following me all the way down the driveway. Running down the sidewalk, surrounded by the cold autumn wind, I finally let out a ragged, ugly sob. 2 My parents were always biased. Haley was the golden child; I was the background noise. I had realized that when I was barely old enough to form memories. When we were kids, I was sent to the neighborhood public elementary school down the street, walking home alone every afternoon, constantly picked on by the older kids. Haley, on the other hand, was enrolled in an elite private academy twenty miles away. Rain or shine, my parents personally drove her back and forth every single day. When it came time to choose a major in college, I wanted to study graphic design. My mother threw a historic fit. She cried, screamed, and emotionally blackmailed me until I caved and enrolled in a rigorous pre-med track, eventually dragging myself into a brutal medical residency program. Yet, when Haley graduated high school a few years later, she didn’t apply to medical school like she had always promised. She picked Corporate Finance instead. One afternoon, when our parents weren’t home, I asked Haley why she had abandoned medicine. She looked at me with bright, innocent eyes, twirling a strand of her hair. “Oh, Mom said medical school is awful. She said the hours are grueling, the burn-out is crazy, and the golden era for doctors is over anyway. We don’t have any high-level connections in the hospital system, so I’d just be grinding myself to the bone for nothing. Mom told me to go into finance so Uncle can just give me a cushy job at his firm.” The breath left my lungs as if I’d been struck in the chest. Everything Haley rattled off was insider knowledge—hard truths you only learned after drowning in the medical system. Where had my mother gotten all that information? From me. From watching me cry over textbooks at 2:00 AM, from listening to me vent about eighty-hour hospital shifts. I was her crash-test dummy. She wanted Haley to go into medicine, but she was afraid of the dark, treacherous waters. So she threw me in first to map out the depths. Once she saw how deep the current was, she pulled Haley back and handed her a smooth, paved highway. My suffering was the blueprint for Haley’s happiness. And now, the man I had loved for three years was being packaged up and handed to her on a silver platter, too. My mother wanted to give Haley the world. But this time, I refused to yield. An icy cold war began. Or, more accurately, I cut my mother off completely. I stopped texting her, stopped visiting. She, predictably, didn’t bother to reach out to me either. I let myself drown in the dark silence, refusing to bow my head. Haley, however, began texting me occasionally, her messages dripping with casual complaints: “Nora, Mom’s standards are ridiculously high. Every guy I talk to gets torn apart by her—except Gavin, of course. At this rate, I’m gonna end up an old maid.” I stared at the glowing screen for a long time before typing back: “Why do you keep calling him Gavin?” I remembered distinctly that she used to call him “Brother-in-law.” I hadn’t realized when that shifted to just “Gavin”—a casual, intimate familiarity. Haley replied instantly, oblivious to the knife she was twisting: “Oh, Mom told me to! She said you guys might not end up together anyway, so I shouldn’t call him ‘Brother-in-law’ so I don’t get weirded out later.” I felt like I was plunging through ice. I forced myself to sit down and reconstruct the timeline. Haley had stopped calling him my fiancé about a year ago—right around the time I was hospitalized with a compound leg fracture after a bad car accident. My parents had dropped by the hospital twice, performing dutiful, shallow check-ins before slipping away. Gavin was the one who stayed. For three straight months, Gavin lived in that hospital room with me. He drove miles out into the countryside every weekend to buy fresh organic chicken just to stew rich, nourishing broth for my bones. He bathed me, cooked for me, carried me to the bathroom, refusing to let nurses do what he felt was his duty. I remembered one afternoon when my mother brought over a dish of spicy eggplant. Gavin ate it all himself, gently reminding her that nightshade vegetables could trigger inflammation and slow down my surgical wound healing. He had spoken with such authoritative care. I remembered the look in my mother’s eyes that day—a sudden, intense, calculating heat. By the time I could walk again, Gavin had lost nearly twenty pounds from exhaustion. It was right after my recovery that my mother’s attitude toward Gavin flipped overnight. She began inviting him over constantly. And every single time Gavin sat down at the dinner table, Haley was placed directly across from him. Connecting the dots tore my soul apart. Long ago, while I was broken in a hospital bed, my mother had already decided that Gavin belonged to Haley. And I had been the oblivious clown, smiling through the pain. 3 A week later, after yet another blind date arranged by Aunt Brenda fell short of my mother’s insane standards, she finally called me herself. She didn’t ask how I was doing. Her voice came blasting through the speaker, sharp and demanding. “Where are you? Have you broken up with Gavin yet? You have no idea what kind of losers your aunt tried to set Haley up with today. Not a single one of them holds a candle to Gavin.” I was in the middle of my residency rotation, running on three hours of sleep, the hospital intercom blaring overhead. My attending physician had already called my name twice down the hallway. I rubbed my swollen, aching temples, suppressing a wave of bone-deep exhaustion. “Mom, Gavin and I love each other. I am not breaking up with him. Haley can take her time and find her own boyfriend.” A beat of silence, and then the line shuffled. My father’s heavy, somber voice replaced hers. “Nora,” he began, adopting the posture of a wise, long-suffering patriarch. “Your mother and I are getting old. All we want is to see your little sister settled with a good man for the rest of her life. You’re the older sister—what’s wrong with making a sacrifice for Haley? If it weren’t for your sister’s sake, do you really think your mother would have let a high-caliber man like Gavin into your life in the first place?” He paused, letting out a heavy sigh. “You’ve enjoyed three years of a good man’s company. You should be grateful you got to borrow him thanks to Haley.” A harsh, hysterical laugh escaped my throat. “Borrow him?” my voice cracked, tight with rage. “What does Gavin have to do with Haley? I know you guys favor her, but I’m your daughter too! Do you hate me so much that you can’t bear to see me happy?” My voice had raised higher than I intended. Across the nurses’ station, my attending shot me a stern, warning glare. I took a deep, shuddering breath, lowering my voice into a cold, hard promise. “Gavin and I are not breaking up. Think very carefully about what you’re trying to do, Dad. Don’t blow this family apart.” I foolishly believed my warning would make them back off. Two hours later, my phone buzzed with an incoming photo from Haley. It was a shot of my parents’ living room. Gavin was sitting on the sofa, completely surrounded by a dozen extended relatives—aunts, uncles, cousins—looking visually overwhelmed. Haley’s text followed: “Nora, Gavin is being cross-examined by the whole family right now. Poor guy looks terrified haha.” The blood rushed out of my face. My head spun. My mother had invited Gavin to the house alone. What was she planning to do to him?! I ripped off my white coat, abandoned my charting, and drove like a maniac back to my childhood home. I threw the front door open, striding into the foyer just in time to hear my mother’s voice ringing out clearly over the crowd, discussing wedding terms. “I won’t let my precious daughter be wronged,” my mother was saying, her tone pompous and grand. “We will provide a $300,000 cash contribution toward their house down payment, plus a brand-new SUV as a wedding gift. And whatever registry money comes in, she keeps it all.” A collective gasp echoed through the living room. The relatives exchanged amazed glances, marveling at what an extraordinarily generous mother she was. It sounded like the ultimate expression of maternal love. Except the “precious daughter” she was talking about wasn’t me. Gavin spotted me standing by the entryway first. His face lit up with immense relief, and he instantly stood up. “Nora! You’re here!” He walked toward me, his eyes shining with adoration, completely oblivious to the trap laid out around him. “Nora, I’m going to marry you. I promise I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world.” The moment the words left his mouth, the room fell dead silent. Except for Haley, everyone in the room shot Gavin deeply uncomfortable, bizarre looks. Aunt Brenda broke the silence, her tone dripping with bewildered pity. “Oh, Gavin, sweetie… you must be so excited you’re talking nonsense. You’re Haley’s boyfriend! The girl you’re marrying is Haley!” Gavin froze mid-step, his jaw dropping. “What? No… Nora is my girlfriend.” I stood there, icy cold from head to toe, staring directly at my mother. She had clearly lied to the entire extended family, telling them all that Gavin was Haley’s fiancé. I wanted to see how she was going to wriggle her way out of this absurd lie. My mother met my gaze calmly, unhurried. She offered the relatives a gentle, long-suffering smile. “Nora and Gavin broke up a while ago,” she said smoothly, her voice laced with practiced sorrow. “Gavin is such a wonderful young man, and he and Haley are such a perfect match… so I thought we’d make it official today.” 4 Haley let out a soft, dramatic gasp. “Mom?” She stole a shy, blushing glance at Gavin, her cheeks turning bright crimson. “He is MY boyfriend!” I roared, my voice breaking the tension like a shattered window. “We never broke up! Haley, if you want a boyfriend, go find one yourself! Why do you always have to steal mine?!” I was losing my mind. The sheer absurdity of it was suffocating me. My mother turned to me, her eyes dropping into a frosty, commanding glare. “Nora, lower your voice. Control your emotions. Stop acting like a crazy person. Do you honestly think a hysterical woman like you deserves a man like Gavin?” Control my emotions? With parents like them, staying sane was a medical miracle! I had just pulled a twenty-four-hour shift at the hospital, running from patient rooms to emergency charts without a single second of sleep. My brain was firing on empty, my vision swimming with black spots, my chest tightening as if an iron band were wrapping around my ribs. One of the distant aunts chimed in hesitantly, “Evelyn… Gavin is Nora’s boyfriend. Doing this… isn’t it a bit inappropriate?” My mother shut her down instantly. “They weren’t engaged yet!” she declared, raising her chin. “Besides, as far as I’m concerned, they are completely wrong for each other!” She pointed a finger at me, turning to face the relatives. “Nora is just a lowly resident doctor! The medical field is an endless, soul-crushing grind with terrible pay starting out—what kind of future does she have? Haley is different. Haley is already a Corporate Finance Director at a major firm. She and Gavin—a regional manager—are a match made in heaven!” My mother’s eyes brimmed with sudden, tragic tears. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, performing the role of an exhausted, selfless mother to perfection. “I’m her mother! Would I ever hurt her? Instead of watching them get divorced five years down the road, it’s better to cut the cord now!” I’m her mother. Those three words were her ultimate shield, an impenetrable armor that made her morally invincible in front of the older generation. Aunt Brenda nodded thoughtfully, convinced. “Honestly… Evelyn has a point. Nora and Gavin really don’t seem to have much in common. If they got married, they’d probably end up drifting apart anyway.” She looked at me, her voice softening into a preachy tone. “Nora, honey… a marriage without your parents’ blessing never ends well.” The relatives chimed in one after another, picking apart my relationship, dissecting all the ways Gavin and I were supposedly incompatible. Gavin tried to step forward to defend us, but I raised a hand, grabbing his arm tightly, stopping him. I wanted to hear it. I wanted to see just how deep my mother’s cruelty could run. My mother looked at me, tears streaming down her face like a tragic heroine. “Nora, you and Haley are both my daughters. I love you both equally. But as your mother, I genuinely know what’s best for you. You two were never meant to be husband and wife.” Equal love. What a sick, malicious joke. The last embers of heat in my chest died out, leaving behind a cold, hollow void. I felt a finality settling over me—my blood ties to these people were officially severed. This was why she had assembled the entire family today. She wanted to publicly humiliate me, tear down my worth, elevate Haley, and use the collective pressure of our relatives to force me into walking away from Gavin. I looked at my mother’s tear-stained, manipulative face. Then I looked at the relatives nodding along like sheep. If she wanted to play dirty, then nobody in this room was getting out unscathed. I took a step forward, a cold smile spreading across my lips. “Aunt Brenda,” I said softly, my voice echoing clearly through the quiet living room. “Did you know that Cousin Audrey’s ex-fiancé was actually the first guy Mom scouted out to be Haley’s husband?”

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1 At our engagement party, the “Wonder Twins” were at it again, lost in a world of hydrological flow charts and seismic data. I stood three paces behind them, draped in their heavy wool overcoats like a human coat rack. My arms were starting to ache, but I stayed silent, watching the back of Elena’s head as she gestured wildly at a tablet screen. This was our night—the night we were supposed to celebrate a lifetime together—but the guest of honor was currently more interested in the silt deposits of the Mississippi Delta than her fiancé. The head table, specifically reserved for us and Elena’s parents, sat empty and gleaming under the ballroom lights. I reached out, gently tugging Elena’s sleeve. “Elena, let’s sit down first. The appetizers are being served, and your parents are waiting. You can talk shop later.” Before she could respond, Nathan—her “academic soulmate” and lifelong friend—placed a hand on my wrist. His grip wasn’t aggressive, just firm, with that patronizing steadiness he always used with me. “Evan, buddy,” Nathan said, not looking up from the data. “We’re in the middle of a breakthrough here. Can you try not to break Elena’s train of thought? It’s a bit delicate.” Elena didn’t even glance my way. Her eyes were glued to a shifting heat map on the screen. “Just give us a minute, Evan. Stop hovering.” I felt a phantom sting in my chest. “Stop hovering.” I was the one holding her coat. I was the one who had spent three months coordinating with the florist because she was “too busy with the lab.” Nathan pulled out the chair at the head table—the one meant for me. He sat down, beckoning Elena to join him. “Sit here, El. Look at this spike in the second quadrant.” Elena sat. She pulled her chair close to his, their shoulders brushing as they leaned into the glow of the tablet. My seat. My place next to my bride. I gripped their coats until my knuckles turned white. “And where am I supposed to sit, Elena?” She blinked, finally looking up, though her eyes were glazed with equations. She looked at the table, then at me, as if realizing for the first time that there were only two seats. She didn’t offer to move. Instead, she pointed a casual finger toward a dark corner near the service entrance. “There’s an extra chair over there, isn’t there?” I looked. It was a folding chair tucked beside a large, overflowing trash bin. Nathan looked up then, offering a sympathetic, albeit hollow, smile. “Go ahead and take a load off, Evan. Once El and I finish this simulation, we’ll get to the ‘fiancé’ stuff.” They turned back to their hydrological maps. Our guests began to filter in, glancing at the two geniuses huddled at the head table. No one seemed to find it odd. In our social circle, their brilliance acted as a universal hall pass for rudeness. People whispered about their “vibrant intellectual synergy,” while I was just the “stable accountant” who kept the lights on. I didn’t argue. I didn’t make a scene. I walked to the corner, draped their expensive coats over that lonely folding chair, and walked out of the ballroom. I stood on the curb and pulled out my phone to call an Uber. My heart felt strangely light, the weight of the coats finally gone. If even our engagement could be pushed aside for a data set, then this marriage didn’t need to happen. … It was 11:00 PM when the front door finally clicked open. The sound woke me. I had been drifting in and out of a restless sleep on the sofa, the moonlight cutting a cold silver line across the living room floor. Elena walked in, smelling of expensive perfume and the sterile scent of the lab. “You’re back,” I said, my voice raspy. I didn’t turn on the lights. “Are you sulking?” she asked. She didn’t sound guilty. She sounded annoyed. I looked down at my hands. I didn’t say a word. She sighed, a long, weary sound, and sat on the edge of the sofa near my feet. “Look, I know it was a bit much letting Nathan take your seat for a while. I was distracted. It was an oversight.” It was a rare apology from her, but it felt like a band-aid on a bullet wound. “It’s fine, I—” “But Evan,” she interrupted, her tone sharpening. “That’s no excuse for walking out. You left me there to explain your disappearance to a hundred guests. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was? Over a chair?” I sat up, the darkness making her face look like a marble mask. “You think this is about a chair? You think I’m ‘indulging’ myself because I didn’t want to watch my fiancée play house with another man at our own engagement party?” “Evan, please.” Elena rubbed her temples. “You’re an accountant. You’re a numbers-on-a-spreadsheet guy. You don’t understand the level of research Nathan and I are doing. Even if I explained the data to you, it would go over your head. So what’s the point in you sitting there?” The words felt like a physical blow. What’s the point in you sitting there? “I’m your partner, Elena. Not your assistant.” “Then stop acting like a child. You humiliated Nathan, too. You threw his coat in the corner like he was some intruder. Everyone saw it. You made it very clear you have a ‘problem’ with him.” The anger in her eyes wasn’t for me, or for us. It was for Nathan’s pride. “Elena…” I stood up, my fists clenched at my sides. The words I’d been rehearsing all day finally climbed up my throat. “I think we need to call off the—” Beep-beep-beep-click. The electronic lock on the front door hummed, and the door swung open. Nathan walked in, carrying a stack of manila folders. I froze. “Elena? Why does he have the code to our house?” “Nathan needs to consult on things sometimes,” she said dismissively, already standing up to meet him. “Digital communication is too slow for the nuances of the modeling. It’s more efficient this way.” “But this is our home. This is—” Nathan stepped between us, his shoulder brushing Elena’s with a practiced familiarity. “Hey, Evan. Look, I found the error in the fitting model. The variance wasn’t being cleared in the second loop. Check this out, El.” Elena’s eyes lit up instantly. “Yes! That’s it! Let’s run the simulation again right now.” I reached out to grab her arm, to stop her from disappearing into the office with him. “Elena, we were talking.” Nathan’s hand came down on mine, patting it twice. “Later, buddy. We’ve got real work to do. Whatever it is, it can wait until we’re finished.” “Ignore him, Nathan. Let’s go,” Elena said. They walked into the study and the door slammed shut. A second later, I heard the distinct click of the deadbolt. I stood in the hallway, staring at the wood grain of the door. She had told me this was our sanctuary. She said the door code—259297, the numerical sequence for Always—was a secret just for us. I took a deep breath, trying to still the shaking in my hands. It was fine. Let them have the study. Let them have the data. I wasn’t getting married anyway. I turned to go to the bedroom, but the study door cracked open. “Evan?” Elena called out. “Nathan and I are going to be pulling an all-nighter. Can you brew two cups of coffee? Make Nathan’s hot, two sugars.” She didn’t wait for an answer. She began to close the door, her face already turning back toward the computer screen. She assumed, as she had a thousand times before, that I would simply do it. “Elena,” I called out. She paused, looking impatient. “What?” “I’m going to bed.” She blinked, confused. “Can’t you just make the coffee first? It’ll take five minutes.” “No.” I had grown up in the shadow of “prodigies” like them. Even my own parents used to say, “Don’t get in the way when Nathan and Elena are working, Evan. Be useful. Help where you can. When they’re successful, they’ll pull you up with them.” So, I had spent years carrying their bags. I booked their flights. I picked up their dry cleaning. I even let them steal my seat at my own engagement. Nathan’s head popped out from behind the door. “C’mon, Evan. We’re really in the weeds here. Just two cups? For old times’ sake?” “No,” I said again. My heart was thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird. It was the first time I had ever said no twice. Nathan’s smug smile faltered. Elena pulled the door wide, staring at me with a dark, unreadable expression. “Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll do it myself.” She brushed past me, her shoulder hitting mine with deliberate force. I didn’t look at her. I went into the bedroom, climbed under the covers, and stared at the ceiling until the sun came up. The next morning, the smell of burnt toast pulled me from sleep. When I walked into the kitchen, they were already eating. Two plates. Two glasses of orange juice. “Is there any for me?” I asked, the habit of years still dying hard. I used to always make breakfast for three. Elena wiped her mouth with a napkin, her movements stiff. “If you want breakfast, make it yourself.” Her voice was laced with a cold, lingering resentment. I looked at the counter. The espresso machine was a mess, and a broken ceramic mug lay in the trash. Elena never could handle the “mundane” machinery of the house. I was the one who fixed the Wi-Fi, the one who descaled the coffee maker, the one who kept the physical world running so she could live in her clouds. “She’s in a mood!” Nathan joked, reaching over to playfully pinch Elena’s cheek. He looked at me with a grin. “El didn’t get her caffeine fix last night because someone went on strike. She’s been up all night. I’ve been trying to keep her spirits up.” I said nothing. Their breakfast was simple—fried eggs and toast—far less elaborate than the omelets I usually prepared. But even in its simplicity, Elena hadn’t bothered to crack a third egg for me. “Let’s go, Nathan,” Elena said, standing up. “We need to finish the flow simulation and get the report to the lab by five.” “You got it,” Nathan said, following her. As she passed me, Elena gave me one last look—sharp and dismissive—before they disappeared back into the study. I sighed and went to the kitchen. I made myself a sandwich, then began the invisible labor of the “lesser” partner. I threw their dirty laundry into the wash. I loaded the dishwasher with the mountain of mugs they’d gone through. I cleaned the coffee grounds off the counter. That evening, Elena finally emerged and came into the bedroom. She wasn’t there for me. “I’m setting some boundaries for the house,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing her temples. “Starting tomorrow, I don’t want you entering the study or the three adjacent rooms. Consider them a restricted zone.” I stared at her. “Excuse me? This is my house too. Why?” “Because you’re loud, Evan. You’re distracting.” She didn’t even look at me. “Nathan and I need a focused research environment. Your puttering around, the vacuuming, the kitchen noises… it’s breaking our flow.” “You could work at the lab,” I suggested, my voice tight. “That’s what labs are for.” “Sometimes the lab isn’t an option. We have the server set up here.” She looked at me then, her eyes cold. “You don’t contribute anything to the work, Evan. The least you can do—the absolute least—is stay out of the way. Stop being a hindrance.” I gripped the edge of the duvet. That night, we slept back-to-back, a canyon of silence between us. I thought she was just blowing off steam. But when I woke up the next morning, I found a literal barrier. A temporary plastic partition had been tension-mounted across the hallway, sealing off the study wing. Taped to the plastic was a hand-printed sign: EVAN: DO NOT ENTER. I reached out, my hand trembling, and touched the frame. ZAP. A sharp, stinging arc of electricity jumped from the frame to my fingertips. I cried out, falling back onto the carpet. The study door opened. Nathan stepped out, holding a remote. “Oh! Sorry, man. Forgot to tell you.” He clicked a button, disarming the low-voltage deterrent. He stepped over the barrier and offered me a hand. “It’s just a little security measure to keep the ‘unauthorized’ out while we’re running high-precision sensors. Be more careful.” “Get away from me!” I snapped, scrambling to my feet and backing away. Nathan froze, his expression shifting to a hurt pout. He looked back at Elena, who was standing in the doorway. “Don’t be dramatic, Evan,” she said coldly. “The fence stays until the simulation is finished. If you can’t respect a simple sign, then the tech will have to do it for you.” “This is my home!” My voice cracked. “You put up an electric fence in our hallway? To keep me out?” Nathan stepped forward. “Evan, buddy—” “Shut up, Nathan!” I pushed his hand away. It wasn’t even a hard shove, but Nathan gasped, losing his balance and falling onto his backside on the hardwood floor. “Nathan!” Elena screamed. She rushed to his side, cradling him as if I’d hit him with a car. Nathan held his wrist, looking at me with wide, wounded eyes. “Evan, I… I didn’t mean to upset you,” Nathan stammered. “El, maybe I should go. I don’t want to cause trouble between you two.” He started gathering his papers, stuffing them into his leather satchel with frantic, shaky hands. “We’ll just finish this at the lab, El. It’s clear Evan’s… he’s got some issues with me being here.” “Nathan, stay,” Elena commanded. She turned to me, her face contorted with disgust. She reached out and ripped the partition down, throwing the plastic onto the floor. “There. Is that what you wanted? Are you happy now that you’ve sabotaged our work day?” She didn’t speak to me for the rest of the week. She didn’t bring Nathan back to the house, and at the office, she kept her distance. I thought maybe, just maybe, the message had sunk in. Then came the storm. A torrential downpour trapped everyone at the office late on Friday. I stood in the lobby, checking my watch every few minutes. My car was in the shop, and Elena had promised to drive me home. Finally, I saw her walking toward the exit, keys in hand. My heart lifted. “Elena! Ready to go?” “Move,” she said, pushing past me without a glance. I stumbled back. Nathan was right behind her, clutching a waterproof folder to his chest. “Elena? What are you doing?” She walked to the curb and opened the passenger door of her Audi—for Nathan. “I have to get Nathan home first,” she said, sliding into the driver’s seat. “You’ll have to wait here.” I froze in the cold draft of the lobby. “There are four seats in that car, Elena. Nathan lives five blocks from us. It’s on the way.” She rolled down the window, the rain splashing against her designer glasses. “You’re the one who threw a tantrum about him being at the house, remember? I’m taking him to his place, and then I have some things to discuss with him. It’s out of your way. Just wait.” “Elena!” I stepped toward the car, reaching for the handle. She didn’t wait. She rolled up the window and accelerated, the tires kicking up a wall of dirty rainwater that soaked me from head to toe. I stood there in the wind, the rain masking the tears on my face. I walked back into the lobby, shivering. The lights in the building began to flicker and die as the janitorial staff finished their rounds. I waited until midnight. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Nathan. Hey Evan, don’t wait up. El and I found a massive glitch in the flow-field data. She’s staying at my place to help me iron it out. Catch a ride with a coworker or something. See ya. I stared at the screen until it went dark. The wind howled against the glass of the office tower. I didn’t call an Uber. I didn’t go home. I walked back up to my cubicle, wrapped myself in a spare coat, and slept on the floor in the dark. I was shaken awake by the sound of a high-voltage hum. Still groggy, I grabbed a flashlight and headed down to the basement laboratories. I didn’t know why—call it a gut feeling. When I opened the heavy steel door to the oceanography lab, my heart stopped. The room was flooding. A pipe had burst, and two inches of water already covered the floor. The instrument panels were sparking, needles swinging wildly into the red. I looked at the wall—the master circuit breaker, the one that should have tripped automatically, was manually jammed into the ‘ON’ position. I didn’t think. I lunged through the water, ignoring the prickle of electricity on my skin. I slammed the breaker to ‘OFF’ and punched the emergency drainage override. The room went dark. But something was wrong. Above me, a heavy support beam, weakened by the storm or the vibration of the failing machinery, let out a metallic scream. CRUNCH. The world went black. When I woke up, my head was wrapped in heavy gauze. The hospital room felt too bright. The door burst open. Elena was there, breathless, her hair a mess. “Where is he?” she demanded. My eyes welled with tears. I reached out a hand. “Elena… I’m here. I tried to save the—” SLAP. The force of the blow sent my head spinning. The wound on my forehead throbbed with white-hot agony. “What is wrong with you?” Elena screamed, her voice cracking. “Why would you turn off the master breaker? Do you have any idea what you did? You wiped six months of Nathan’s real-time simulation data! It’s gone, Evan! All of it!” I sat there, trembling, my hand over my stinging cheek. “I didn’t… Elena, the room was flooding. The breaker was jammed open. I had to shut it down or the whole building would have caught fire.” “Evan, please,” a voice said from the doorway. It was Nathan. He looked devastated, his eyes red. “Are you really going to lie about this? Are you going to say I was the one who left the safety overrides off?” I gritted my teeth against the pain. “I’m saying when I got there, the breaker was jammed. I was trying to stop a catastrophe.” “Enough!” Elena looked at me with pure loathing. “This is a classic amateur mistake. I’ve told you a thousand times—don’t touch our equipment. You don’t know the first thing about the lab protocols. You did this because you’re jealous. You did this to hurt Nathan.” The noise attracted a few of our colleagues from the hallway. They gathered at the door, whispering. Elena didn’t care. She turned to leave. “Elena, where are you going?” one of the researchers asked. “To file the incident report,” she said, her voice like ice. “This was a catastrophic loss of intellectual property. The board needs to know. And Evan Brooks is the primary person responsible.” “Elena!” I croaked. “Wait, El!” someone shouted, stepping into the room. “If you file that report, he’s finished. He’ll lose his job, his license… the damages on that equipment are seven figures. You guys are supposed to be getting married next month!” Elena paused at the door. She looked back at me, her silhouette dark against the hospital lights. “I don’t need a husband who is a jealous, incompetent fool,” she said, each word a jagged shard of glass. “You are worse than useless, Evan. You’re a liability.” She left. The investigation was swift. They reviewed the security logs and the lab’s internal backups. “The logs show that Nathan Miller was the last person to officially log out of the lab,” the lead investigator said during the hearing in the main conference hall. “Followed by Evan Brooks entering with a flashlight at 2:00 AM.” I sat in the front row, the bandage still on my head, my eyes fixed on the floor. Elena stood up. She didn’t look at me. She pointed to the grainy CCTV footage on the screen—me, entering the lab. It was the only camera that hadn’t been knocked out by the storm, but it didn’t show the breaker box. “I think the choice is clear,” Elena told the board. “Do you believe our lead scientist, a man with a flawless record, made a ‘rookie’ mistake with a circuit breaker? Or do you believe a sales accountant with a documented history of resentment toward his partner’s colleagues decided to take matters into his own hands?” The room went silent. The investigators looked at me with pity and disgust. “I’m sure I checked that breaker before I left!” Nathan added, his voice trembling with ’emotion.’ “I’m positive!” “Well,” a board member whispered. “If Nathan says so, it’s probably true. Why would he sabotage his own life’s work?” “Exactly,” another replied. “What was Evan even doing there? He’s a salesman. He had no business in the lab. He almost got himself killed, and for what? Spite.” The lead investigator nodded. “Based on the testimony and the technical evidence, we find Evan Brooks liable for the incident.” Elena nodded to the investigator. “Thank you.” Two security guards stepped forward to escort me out. As I passed Elena, she leaned in, her voice a low hiss. “You went too far this time, Evan. Maybe a little time in the real world without me will teach you some humility.” I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. A week later, a junior member of the investigation team—someone who had always liked me—sent an encrypted file to my personal email. “You asked me to look into the external server pings,” the note read. “I found something. Check the timestamps.” I opened the file. As I scrolled through the data, my heart began to pound. Oh, Elena. You and Nathan really did think I was stupid, didn’t you?

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In my previous life, when my little sister was three years old, she was diagnosed with mild hydronephrosis—a little fluid backing up in her kidney. The doctor told us it was nothing to worry about. A quick, minimally invasive procedure would fix it. But after they wheeled her into the operating room, she never woke up. They called it an anesthesia complication. Later, my parents dug into the files. They found that her pre-op imaging had been swapped out. Her anesthesia logs had been tampered with. But the most terrifying detail of all was a glaring, inexplicable gap in her surgical records regarding her kidney. My parents realized the horrifying truth: she didn’t die from a medical accident. They had used the surgery as a cover to steal one of her kidneys. They gathered the evidence and drove out of state to an independent medical examiner. They never made it. Their car was crushed into a twisted cube of metal on the interstate. I survived for three years after that. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was the way my sister looked at me right before she was pushed through those double doors. And then, I died, too. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in the blindingly bright corridor of Mercy General Hospital. My mother was leaning over the nursing station, pen in hand, about to sign the surgical consent form. The doctor was smiling, his voice a smooth, comforting hum. “Don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes. It’s a very standard, minor procedure.” I lunged forward, snatched the paper from beneath her pen, and ripped it to shreds. “No.” My voice tore from my throat. “We aren’t doing this surgery. Nobody is taking Lily into that room.” 1 Confetti of white paper drifted to the polished linoleum. The corridor went dead silent. My mother, Sarah, stared at me, her hand still frozen in the shape of holding a pen. My father, David, felt his face darken instantly. “Nolan, what the hell are you doing?” I didn’t look at him. I bent down and scooped my three-year-old sister, Lily, out of her hospital bed. She was swimming in a patterned gown, half a graham cracker clutched in her fist. Startled by the sudden movement, she blinked her wide, innocent eyes. “Noly?” I tightened my arms around her, a sudden, burning heat rushing to my eyes. She was warm in my arms. She was breathing. She was still calling me by my nickname. On this exact day in my previous life, right as my mother signed the paper, she had looked up and asked, “Dr. Campbell, are you absolutely sure there are no risks?” And the man had given her that same warm, practiced smile. “We do hundreds of these a year, Sarah. It’s as safe as can be.” Hours later, that same man had stood before us with a solemn face, saying, I am so incredibly sorry. We did everything we could. I locked eyes with the doctor standing in front of me now. Dr. Arthur Campbell. Chief of Pediatric Urology. Everyone said he was a miracle worker. The expert with a six-month waitlist. The guy whose bedside manner made terrified parents weep with relief. But he was the one who had sent my sister into an operating room that didn’t technically exist. Dr. Campbell frowned, adjusting his stance. “David, Sarah… it seems your son is a bit overwhelmed.” I let out a harsh, ragged laugh. “I’m not overwhelmed. I’m the only one thinking clearly.” My mother finally snapped out of her shock, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “Nolan, stop this right now. Lily’s scans were bad. Dr. Campbell said if we wait, there could be permanent kidney damage. She’s only three.” My throat tightened. “It’s not an emergency, Mom. It’s mild hydronephrosis. We can monitor it. We can do repeat ultrasounds. There is absolutely no clinical reason to put her on an operating table today.” The moment those words left my mouth, something flickered in Dr. Campbell’s eyes. A micro-expression. A fraction of a second where the warm physician dropped away. But he recovered seamlessly, his voice maintaining that perfect, measured cadence. “And where exactly did you read that, Nolan? WebMD?” I didn’t answer. In my past life, my parents had torn through every medical journal in existence trying to build their case. I had read them all alongside them. I was only a fifteen-year-old high school sophomore; I knew I couldn’t out-argue a Chief of Surgery on medical terminology. But I knew one thing with absolute, bone-chilling certainty. If my sister went into surgery today, she was never coming back out. My father was losing his temper. “You’re fifteen years old, Nolan. What the hell do you know about medicine? You think you know more than the Chief of Surgery?” The commotion had drawn the attention of the other parents in the ward. A woman named Brenda, whose son was in the bed next to ours, sighed and shook her head. “Listen to your folks, kid. Dr. Campbell is the best of the best. You can’t mess around with kidneys. If you delay this and she gets worse, you’ll never forgive yourself.” Forgive yourself. The words felt like a physical blow to my temple. In my past life, I had lived with the rot of regret for three agonizing years. Regret for trusting them. Regret for doing nothing but standing outside the surgical ward, staring at a red light that would never turn off. I took a step back, clutching Lily tighter against my chest. “We’re transferring,” I said. “We’re leaving right now.” My mother’s face drained of color. “Transfer? Nolan, are you insane? Do you know how long it took to get on Dr. Campbell’s schedule?” Dr. Campbell timed his intervention perfectly. “Sarah, I strongly advise against delaying. Pediatric cases can be deceptive. She looks stable now, but if renal function drops, it cascades quickly.” I saw my mother’s hands start to shake. My father swallowed hard. I recognized the terror in their eyes. It was exactly like the last time. They loved Lily so fiercely that the mere phrase ‘permanent kidney damage’ paralyzed their logic. I gritted my teeth. “Fine. Then we take her scans and go to Seattle Children’s for a second opinion. Right now.” Dr. Campbell reached up and casually pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose. “The imaging and raw data are already archived in the pre-op system. If you cancel against medical advice today, it will take at least three weeks to get you back on the rotation.” He looked directly at me, dropping his voice into a tone of gentle reprimand. “I understand you’re protective of your little sister, Nolan. But by standing in the way right now, you are actively harming her.” Lily didn’t understand the words, but she felt the crushing tension in the air. Her lower lip quivered, and she wrapped her chubby arms around my neck. “Noly, my tummy doesn’t hurt anymore,” she whispered. “Can we go home?” The sting in my eyes turned into a blinding ache. “Yeah, bug,” I whispered back, my voice cracking. “I’m taking you home.” I turned toward the exit. My father stepped right into my path, his chest blocking the way. “Put your sister down.” 2 I shook my head. “Dad, please. For the love of God, trust me this one time. She cannot have this surgery. There is something wrong with him.” The corridor erupted into whispers. Dr. Campbell’s mask finally slipped, his voice turning icy. “Young man, you need to be very careful about the accusations you make.” I stared right through him. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” My father grabbed my shoulder, his grip bruising. “Nolan Hayes! Have you lost your damn mind?” He yanked me back so hard I stumbled. Lily shrieked, bursting into tears. I curled my body entirely around her to shield her, digging my free hand into my pocket. I hit the speed dial on my phone by memory. The second the call connected, I spoke low and fast. “Aunt Claire. Get to Mercy General right now. They’re trying to take Lily into surgery. Someone is trying to kill her.” My Aunt Claire was the Charge Nurse for the main OR at St. Jude’s Women and Children’s Hospital across town. In my past life, after my parents were killed, she was the one who had helped me parse through Lily’s medical files. She was the one who had noticed that the time of death didn’t align with the anesthesia dosing. “Nolan, slow down,” her voice dropped an octave, shifting instantly from family mode into combat-ready charge nurse. “What floor are you on?” “Twelfth. Pediatric Urology.” The tears finally spilled over, hot and humiliating. “Claire, please bring people with you. I need you to pull the OR board, the anesthesia sheets, the pharmacy logs. Just get here. Please.” My mother heard the phone call and her expression shifted from shock to deep, horrified embarrassment. “Nolan, who are you talking to? Stop making a scene!” My dad ripped the phone out of my hand. “Claire? Ignore him. He’s having some sort of psychotic break about Lily’s procedure—” But Claire didn’t play along. Through the receiver, I could hear her sharp, focused voice. “David, what time is the surgery scheduled for?” My dad hesitated. “Two o’clock this afternoon.” At that exact moment, Dr. Campbell looked down at the tablet a nurse had just handed him and sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, we have a complication,” he announced, his voice carrying just enough to ensure the whole ward heard. “The lab just ran her latest urinalysis, and her repeat ultrasound shows the obstruction is worsening rapidly. With the parents’ consent, I am moving this to an emergency procedure. We need to go in now.” A bucket of ice water poured down my spine. In my past life, they took her at 2:00 PM. Because I was making a scene, because I had called my aunt, he was accelerating the timeline. He was going to take her now. I lunged forward to grab the tablet. “Show me the labs!” Two nurses instantly stepped in front of the doctor, blocking me. Dr. Campbell took a half-step back, all traces of warmth gone from his face. “David, Sarah, I suggest you get your family under control,” he said flatly. “If we delay this any further, whatever happens next is entirely on you.” That was the trigger. My dad snapped. He grabbed my upper arm, his fingers digging into my muscle, and dragged me away from the bed. “Did you hear him? She’s getting worse!” I fought against his grip. “It’s a lie! Dad, he’s faking the data!” My mother was sobbing openly now. “Nolan, I am begging you. Your sister is so tiny. Please stop taking whatever anger you have out on her body.” Anger. I froze. It was true that in my past life, when Lily was born, the entire axis of our household shifted to her. My mom always told me to let things go because I was older. My dad would come home from work and swoop Lily up before even looking at me. Relatives joked that I’d been replaced. But I had never hated her. Not for a single second. The first time she ever walked, it was to wobble directly into my arms. The first time she managed to say ‘Noly’, the whole family laughed until we cried. How could I ever be jealous of her? How could they think I would ever hurt her? “Mom…” My voice came out as a broken rasp. “I’m not.” She wrapped her arms around her own stomach, hyperventilating. “Then why won’t you let them fix her? Tell me! Why?” I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t say, Because I died and came back. I couldn’t say, Because they are going to carve her up and leave her to bleed out. All I could do was repeat, like a broken record, “Don’t let them take her. Just transfer her. Please.” Brenda, the woman in the next bed, chimed in again. “Sarah, I get that he’s scared, but he’s just a kid. You can’t let a teenager make medical decisions. Dr. Campbell has been running this floor for a decade. If he was doing something shady, they would have caught him by now.” Murmurs of agreement rippled through the onlookers. “We waited six months for this guy.” “Don’t hold up the line for the rest of us.” “If that kid dies because her brother threw a tantrum, it’s a tragedy.” Dr. Campbell met my gaze over the nurses’ shoulders. His look was dead calm. And in that moment, a cold sweat broke out across my back. He knew exactly what I was afraid of, and he knew I didn’t have a shred of proof. I was fifteen. In the eyes of this institution, I had zero legal rights. I couldn’t sign a discharge form, I couldn’t demand medical records, and I couldn’t physically walk my sister out the door. My father had reached his breaking point. He raised his hand and slapped me across the face. The sound echoed off the tile walls. The entire floor went dead still. My ear rang with a high-pitched whine. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. Lily screamed, reaching for me in terror. “Don’t hit Noly! No!” My father’s hand hovered in the air, trembling violently. But his jaw was set. “Nolan,” he breathed. “I am warning you. Put. Her. Down.” I stared at him. In my past life, this was the man who had knelt on the concrete outside the hospital entrance, begging for the truth until security dragged him away by his armpits. This was the man who stayed awake for days staring at redacted files, his eyes bloodshot, sobbing into his hands saying, ‘I failed her. I didn’t protect her.’ Right now, he was standing on Dr. Campbell’s side, using violence to force me to surrender her. I didn’t hate him. But I couldn’t obey him. I hitched Lily higher onto my hip, turned, and bolted for the fire stairs. I made it three steps before two male orderlies tackled me. Behind me, Dr. Campbell’s voice was the epitome of calm authority. “Security. The patient’s brother is having an episode and is at risk of dropping the child. Secure the patient.” They swarmed me. I slammed my back against the wall, hunching over Lily to protect her head as hands clawed at my arms. Lily’s face was purple with screaming. “Noly! Noly, I’m scared!” I buried my face in her hair, whispering frantically into her ear. “Don’t be scared, bug. I’ve got you. I’m going to protect you.”

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