Category: English

My husband Steve works in America. For ten years after our marriage, we’ve maintained a long-distance relationship across borders. I’ve been rejected for a green card ten times. On the tenth attempt, the visa officer laid it out for me directly: “Miss! Your so-called husband is already married! His wife obtained a green card ten years ago! Your marriage certificate is fake!” With that, he turned his computer screen to show me the documentation. In Steve’s spouse column, the name clearly displayed was his brother’s wife—Mila. I couldn’t believe it. I immediately called Steve. He responded casually over the phone: “Our marriage certificate is indeed fake!” “I did get a marriage certificate for Mila. That’s the only way her son David could come study in America. My brother died—I have a duty to take care of his wife and child!” “Once David turns eighteen and we’re sure he can stay in America, then we’ll get married.” I didn’t lose my temper. I simply said calmly: “No need. I’m not interested in someone else’s husband.” Then I called my assistant: “Notify Steve’s company—I want him fired. And cancel his credit card!”

Ten years ago, Steve’s offer to work in America was snatched away by someone else. I couldn’t bear to see him depressed, so I secretly created an exclusive overseas assignment plan just for him. I not only helped him connect with the top American universities, but invested ten million to secure a professor position. I paved his way with money at every turn, helping him build a world-class research team and become America’s youngest external consultant. Due to visa issues, I could only stay in this country three months each year before I had to leave. For ten years, I traveled back and forth, exhausted. Every year I prepared the materials needed for a marriage-based green card well in advance. I reviewed every detail meticulously before submitting, but was rejected every single time. Steve always comforted me: “America’s marriage green card review process is extremely strict, especially when the spouse is someone in a high-level technical position like me. Getting rejected is normal—we’ll try again next year.” I always thought it was just my bad luck. Now I finally know—it was my pillow partner who fabricated everything. I had even asked Mila before about how she got her green card, how she could stay here long-term with her child. Every time, Mila would respond with a half-smile: “Probably just my good luck?” So that’s how it was… To say I wasn’t heartbroken would be impossible. Just after I hung up with my assistant, Steve’s call came through. I wanted to hear what else he had to say, so I answered. The moment I picked up, I heard his scolding voice: “Mila just found out you called to question me, and she’s so upset she’s crying. She says she wants to take David and withdraw from school to return home tonight. You’ve scared David to tears.” Over the phone, I could indeed hear Mila’s sobbing and David’s angry crying: “Why do we have to leave?! I’m not going! This is my home! I won’t let that bad woman come here!” “Marta, if you’re going to blame someone, blame me. Don’t fight with Steve…” Steve said to David and Mila in a gentle voice: “As long as I’m here, no one can drive you away.” “I’ll have her apologize to you now, okay? Marta, apologize to them.” I hung up directly. I tore up all the visa documents and turned toward home. This green card—I don’t care about it anymore. I hadn’t walked far when Steve’s car pulled up in front of me. He rolled down the window and said: “I knew you were angry. Fine, you don’t have to apologize anymore. Really, why are you getting jealous over a widow and her child?” “I came specially to pick you up. Get in.” I didn’t bother saying anything and walked straight to the passenger side. I opened the door to find Mila there. She raised her eyebrows and said apologetically: “Sorry, Marta. I’m not feeling well today, so I took the passenger seat. You can sit in back.” Steve looked at me nervously, opening his mouth to defend Mila. After all, on any other day, I would have frowned and insisted on getting my rightful place in the passenger seat as the lady of the house. But today, I said nothing and got in the back seat. The visa center was eighteen kilometers from downtown—hard to catch a ride. If he was willing to pick me up, I’d just treat him as a free driver. Steve seemed surprised. His lips moved as he turned to say something to me. Mila interrupted: “Steve, the car behind us is honking. Let’s go.” I closed my eyes. I don’t know how long passed before the car stopped. When I opened my eyes, we were parked outside a Michelin restaurant. Seeing me frown, Steve smiled and said: “Mila knows you’re upset about the green card situation. She specially wants to treat you to dinner and apologize.” I said coldly: “Not necessary. I want to go home.” But Steve pulled me out with a laugh. “Be good. Mila and I will explain the marriage certificate situation to you properly.” I sat down expressionless. The whole evening I just watched the three of them interact intimately. I lost patience and said: “If you have something to say, say it now.” Steve said unhurriedly: “Let me add some red wine first.” Right after ordering, David suddenly knocked over the wine. Mila cried out in alarm. Steve quickly said to me: “Marta, I’ll take David to the restroom to wipe off his clothes. Just wait for me.” Mila shot me a triumphant look, then pulled Steve away. But I waited a full hour without seeing any sign of them. Instead, the restaurant manager came over and said politely: “Miss, we’re closed now. Please settle your bill—that’s $10,000 total.” I froze. The next second, Steve sent me a message: “You insist on making things difficult for Mila and the child and refuse to apologize simply because I’ve spoiled you too much.” “Now I’ve frozen your card!”

Seeing me grip my phone in silence, the manager raised his voice: “Miss! Please settle your bill!” Whispered laughter came from customers around me. “Coming here to eat when she has no money.” Countless mocking gazes fell on me like a resounding slap in the face. My phone kept buzzing with messages: “Marta, apologize to Mila and admit you were wrong! Promise you’ll never bring this up again. Otherwise, you’ll be detained in the restaurant or sent to jail.” I read his messages expressionlessly. Then I looked up and said in fluent English: “Go call your store manager. Tell them Miss Marta is here.” The manager didn’t understand what this meant, but his instincts told him he needed to do as I said. After the manager left, I took out that bank card from my wallet, snapped it in half, and tossed it in the trash. Steve really seemed to think I was just some appendage who could only depend on him. But he didn’t know that I had long ago inherited my parents’ estate, with business holdings spanning the globe. I never told him any of this because when my parents died, they left a will stating that if I wanted to marry, I had to conceal my identity from my partner. If my partner ever learned my true identity, all my assets would be taken by the family foundation, and I could only receive annual dividends. I knew they did this to prevent me from being taken advantage of. I once thought Steve was different. He was ambitious and hardworking, stayed on at the university as a teacher based on his excellent academic record, and even got an opportunity to study abroad on a government scholarship. But when the list came out, that slot went to someone with connections. Steve was devastated and locked himself in his study in despair. I couldn’t bear it, so I secretly had my assistant donate a building to a prestigious American university in exchange for a joint training opportunity and a visiting professor position. When Steve learned the news, he wept with joy, holding me and choking out: “Marta, I’ll work hard out there. Once I make something of myself, I’ll bring you here to live permanently.” Actually, I didn’t care about permanent residency status. What I cared about was not wanting to only be reunited with him for three short months each year. At this thought, a self-mocking smile appeared on my lips. Turns out Steve never planned on letting me stay here with him long-term. He had already given his legal status to Mila. No wonder every time I came back, I’d see things in our American home that didn’t belong to me. No wonder every time, even before the three months were up, Steve would pack my luggage and tell me to go back early. Turns out during the nine months I wasn’t there, the house I had carefully decorated had another lady of the house. Soon the store manager came in. As soon as he saw me, he bowed in greeting. Then he said to the restaurant manager: “Miss Marta is our BOSS. Her bill doesn’t need to be—” I raised my hand to interrupt: “Why shouldn’t it be settled?” I tapped the security camera above my head lightly and said: “Intentional dine-and-dash. You should call the police immediately. According to local regulations, the debt should be recovered tenfold.” Steve, you got it backwards. You’ve been deceiving me without any qualms all along simply because you’ve been relying on my love for you. Now that my love is gone, let’s see what becomes of you.

I returned home. The moment I pushed open the door, I saw an incredibly heartwarming scene. David sat in Steve’s arms, coaxing him to tell a story. Mila held a fruit plate, occasionally feeding Steve a grape. Her fingers brushed Steve’s lips, and Mila’s face flushed. But my eyes were fixed on what Mila was wearing—matching couple’s pajamas nearly identical to Steve’s. I had once bought these and begged Steve to wear them with me. He was dismissive: “Marta, that’s too childish.” When I came back the next year, those pajamas were gone. I always thought Steve had thrown them away. I never imagined… they were already being worn by someone else. I kicked the door open, startling the three people in the room. Mila cried out and hid helplessly behind Steve. Steve looked briefly surprised, then asked with an ugly expression: “How… how did you get back here?” I laughed coldly: “My own home—why can’t I come back?” Steve was speechless. Just as he was about to say something, David in his arms already rushed over like a little cannonball. He rammed into my lower abdomen. I slammed hard into the table corner, a piercing pain shooting through my lower back. I stumbled and fell to the floor. “It’s all your fault! Every time you come, Mom and I have to leave home!” “You bad woman! Don’t you have your own home?! Why do you have to take over ours?!” Steve pulled David back awkwardly, his face stern: “Kids say the darndest things. It would be petty of you to argue with a child.” I gritted my teeth and barely managed to stand: “Fine. I won’t argue with a child.” Before a satisfied smile could appear on his face, I had already strode forward and slapped Mila across the face. “It’s the mother’s fault if the child isn’t taught properly. Mila! You deserved that!” But my wrist was gripped tightly. The next second, a burning pain spread across my cheek. I fell to the floor, looking up at Steve with his raised hand. He said to me coldly: “Are you done yet, Marta?! Looks like today’s lesson wasn’t enough for you!” As if suddenly remembering something, his face darkened: “Today’s bill was $10,000, and you don’t have a cent on you! How did you pay?!” Before I could speak, Mila said tearfully: “Marta, even if you’re angry with us, you can’t hurt yourself!” “No wonder that manager was smiling at you when we left. Did you… with him…” She covered her mouth with a look of regret. Steve’s anger ignited. He looked at me with an ugly expression: “Marta! To avoid apologizing, you’d rather sell your body?! Is this how you treat me?!” “You’re just… how can you be so cheap!” He pointed a trembling finger toward the door: “Get out! Get out right now!” “Didn’t you want to break up with me? Fine! Let’s break up! Leave now!” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and stood up shakily: “Steve, this is my marital home. The ones who should leave are you!” Mila’s eyes were mocking, though her tone remained gentle and patient: “Marta, I know you put in some money initially… but Steve already transferred the property rights of this house to me. Sorry, but you’ll have to leave now.” I jerked my head up to look at Steve: “You transferred our marital home to Mila?!” Mila walked over and took Steve’s arm, saying awkwardly: “Steve was afraid David and I wouldn’t be comfortable living in someone else’s house, so he transferred it to me.” “He said this way I’d have my own home…” Though I was already disappointed, at this moment I still felt my heart being cut by knives: “This is our marital home! The home we decorated together! Steve! How dare you!” He looked at me coldly: “This house is Mila’s now! No amount of talking will change that.” I looked at the two of them for a long moment. Then I laughed lightly and made a phone call. “Send me some people.”

The moment I hung up, Steve let out a scoffing laugh. “Marta, what are you pretending for?” “You don’t have a cent on you. Who could you possibly call?” Mila also sighed softly, her tone gentle: “Marta, I know you can’t accept this right now, but things are what they are.” She lowered her head and stroked David’s hair. “Steve only transferred the house to me because he feels bad for us, a widow and orphan.” I said nothing, just looked at them. Our arguing attracted quite a few neighbors. Someone recognized Steve and called out: “Isn’t that Mr. Steve? Do you need us to call the police?” Mila smiled graciously: “It’s fine. She’s our friend from back home who won’t leave my house…” Hearing this, they all looked at me with disgust. Someone even shouted at me: “Ugly woman! Get out of here!” Steve turned to look at me: “Just leave, Marta. This isn’t something an apology can fix anymore. You… you’re already dirty.” I looked at him expressionlessly: “$350,000.” “What?” “The total price of this house.” I said calmly: “I paid half, so you paid $350,000. Steve, I’ll pay you back that $350,000.” Steve looked at me and lost his patience. “Marta, stop talking nonsense. You probably took out loans for years just to scrape together your own $350,000. Where would you get the money to pay me back?” He pulled out his phone and made a call: “This is Steve. I want to report someone for forging documents to fraudulently obtain a marriage green card.” “Yes, I have evidence. Please come take her away immediately.” Steve hung up and looked at me with a complex expression: “Marta, this could have been resolved with just an apology.” “I already explained to you—once David gets into college and he and Mila are completely settled, I can get our marriage certificate. Why won’t you accept that?” “You were willing to wait ten years. What’s another ten years?” I laughed coldly, but felt only sorrow in my heart. So this is the kind of man I wasted ten years on. Steve took a deep breath and said to me: “As long as… you promise never to mention the thing with Mila and me again, I can explain to immigration that this was all a misunderstanding…” “I know you don’t want to keep traveling back and forth. I can promise that every year during university winter and summer breaks, I’ll go back to spend time with you… Back home, we can still be like husband and wife…” Hearing this, Mila glared at me venomously, though her tone remained soft: “Marta, stop being stubborn. Do you know that if immigration takes you away, you’ll not only face ten years in prison, but also a fine of hundreds of thousands of dollars?” “The restaurant bill could be handled by the manager helping you out, but you can’t possibly handle the prison bill by…” Just as she finished speaking, footsteps sounded outside. Steve’s face darkened, with an undertone of threat: “Marta! This is your last chance! If you agree, I’ll go send them away. If you don’t agree, I can only let them take you…” But I calmly pulled at the corner of my mouth, shook off Steve’s grasping hand, and walked over. Several tall men in black suits and sunglasses walked in. Steve’s jaw clenched. He seemed to finally make up his mind, looked at me deeply once, then pointed at me and said: “It’s her…” Before he could finish, I raised my hand and said: “Smash it. Smash this house to pieces for me!” Mila and Steve’s eyes widened instantly: “You’re crazy!” Before they could say anything else, they were tied up and thrown to the ground. I smiled and walked forward, slapping each of them until my palms went numb: “$350,000, right here.” I casually tossed down a check. “Steve, my things—I’d rather smash them than give them to you.” I said coldly: “Smashing isn’t enough. Bring explosives. I want this filthy marital home razed completely to the ground!” “Marta! You’re insane!” Amid Steve and Mila’s terrified screams, the house was instantly blown to rubble. The massive explosion drew attention. Within minutes, countless vehicles bearing immigration and security bureau insignias blocked the entrance. Steve roared: “I’m Steve! A senior consultant hired by America! This woman is insane! She forged a green card and hired illegal personnel to maliciously threaten me!” “She should be imprisoned for life! Arrest her now!” But I wasn’t afraid at all. I just smiled faintly.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “371029”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #惊悚Thriller #重生Reborn #狼人Werewolf

“I’m sorry, this flight is overbooked. We’re compensating you two hundred dollars. Please deplane immediately!” The head flight attendant gripped my suitcase tightly. I looked at her coldly, then at the man beside her who had just boarded late, dressed head to toe in designer labels. “Why does he get to board when he’s late, but I have a ticket and I’m being kicked off?” The flight attendant sneered: “Because he’s the heir to Houston’s top medical group! He needs to rush to Houston to see a renowned physician! Could your emergency possibly be more urgent than a life-or-death matter? Now get off!” Several security guards forcibly dragged me off the plane. I watched as the cabin door closed. I laughed bitterly. That heir was dying from a terminal illness. And I was the miracle doctor his entire family had been begging on their knees for three months, who had finally agreed today to fly to Houston to perform his surgery. Since they threw me off the plane, I won’t be doing this surgery anymore.

I dragged my suitcase step by step to the ticket change counter. “I want a refund.” I slapped my passport on the counter, my voice filled with resentment. The counter staff glanced at the screen, looked me up and down, and rolled her eyes. “Sorry, but since you didn’t board for personal reasons, you can only get a two-hundred-dollar refund, not the full amount.” I laughed in fury. “Personal reasons? Your flight was overbooked and you threw me off. That’s my personal reason?” The counter staff’s fingers clattered on the keyboard, her face full of impatience. “Who told you to make a scene in the cabin and disturb the order? You’re lucky to get two hundred dollars back. Don’t be ungrateful!” Just then, the sound of high heels approached. The flight attendant from earlier strutted over arrogantly, holding up her phone that was still recording. “A broke loser desperately trying to extort money from the airline—truly desperate for cash!” “Isn’t she just trying to get more compensation? What’s with the high and mighty act?” The flight attendant crossed her arms, her face full of mockery. “Two hundred not enough? I’ll post this online so everyone can see how pathetic you look. Maybe some kind soul will crowdfund three hundred for you!” I looked at her extremely arrogant face and suppressed my anger. “You’ll regret what you did today.” The flight attendant laughed as if she’d heard a joke, nearly tearing up. “Regret? Coming from someone too poor to afford first class, who can only squeeze into economy?” “Mr. Thompson booked the entire first-class cabin. Even his bodyguards are in business class!” “Who do you think you are to make me regret anything?” She spun around and shouted at the passengers coming and going in the departure hall. “Everyone, come look!” “This is the person who not only refused to cooperate when the flight was overbooked, but tried to extort our airline!” “Now she’s making a scene at the counter, seriously disrupting everyone’s travel. She’s a menace to society!” Surrounding passengers were instantly drawn over, their pointing and gossiping rising in waves. “She’s dressed so well, how can she be so classless?” “Exactly! The airline already compensated her and she’s still making trouble. She must be crazy for money!” “Just get out of here and stop embarrassing yourself!” I ignored the onlookers and turned to the ground staff. “I’ll take the refund.” “But you must write in black and white on the refund form that this is due to your airline’s overbooking and forcible denial of boarding.” I didn’t want the Thompson family tracking me down later and thinking I’d deliberately broken the contract. I absolutely wouldn’t take the blame for this. The flight attendant’s face darkened. She slammed her hand on the counter. “Dream on!” “We gave you a solution and you refused it. Now you want to smear our airline?” “Security! Get this crazy woman out of here!” Several airport security guards immediately rushed over and grabbed my arms from both sides. “Let go!” I struggled desperately, but the security guards wouldn’t listen. They dragged me toward the airport exit. As I passed the flight attendant, I couldn’t help warning her. “You’d better remember my face today, and every word you just said.” “Soon you’ll be on your knees begging me.” But instead of being intimidated, she kicked over my suitcase. My already damaged suitcase completely burst open. The clothes and specially prepared medications inside spilled all over the floor. The flight attendant stepped on a medicine bottle, crushing it. The custom medicine inside instantly turned to powder. This was bad! That was the special medicine I’d prepared specifically for Thompson—one of a kind! Without this medicine, Thompson wouldn’t survive the post-surgery recovery period! “Oops, I’m so sorry.” The flight attendant mocked from behind with fake sympathy. Countless phone cameras instantly focused on me. Various mocking voices completely drowned me out. I was thrown out of the departure hall and landed heavily on the concrete floor. The flight attendant tossed my luggage at me like garbage. “Take your junk and get lost! If you make any more trouble, we’ll call the police and report you for disturbing public order!” Just then, my phone suddenly vibrated frantically. The moment I answered, a barrage of questions came through. “What’s going on with you!” “The plane took off ages ago. I just checked the passenger manifest and your name isn’t on it!” The caller was the Thompson family’s butler, his tone full of reproach and arrogance. “Our family spent so much effort inviting you. We even sent the deposit. And now at this critical moment you’re pulling a diva act?” “Who do you think you are to make our family wait for you?” “If it weren’t for your surgical skills, you think you’d be qualified to treat Mr. Thompson?” I was about to explain it was the airline’s fault, but he wouldn’t listen at all. “I’m warning you, Mr. Thompson’s terminal illness can’t be delayed. If you’re not at Houston First Hospital’s operating room before dark today, don’t blame our family for being ruthless!” “You took our money and dare not do the job? Believe me, I’ll make sure you can’t work in the entire national medical field!” The call was abruptly hung up. The busy tone echoed in my ear.

Holding back my anger, I called him back. The moment he answered, the butler’s impatient voice came through. “What else do you have to say? Just figure out how to charter a plane and get here!” “No need to fly anymore.” My tone was cold. “If you want to know why I didn’t board, go ask the flight attendant on Mr. Thompson’s flight.” With that, I hung up directly. I opened my mobile banking, found the three-million-dollar deposit the Thompson family had sent earlier, and transferred it straight back. The note only had four words: Find someone else. Three million was a fortune to others. To me, it couldn’t buy back the humiliation I suffered today. After doing all this, I blocked all the Thompson family’s contact information, completely cutting ties with them. Looking at the crushed special medicine powder all over the floor, I laughed coldly. Thompson, I won’t be responsible for your life anymore. I hailed a taxi and went straight back to the hospital. The moment I sat down in my office, my phone vibrated frantically again. I pressed answer, and Director Tony’s roar came through. “Mary! What the hell are you doing!” “The Thompson family called me directly! They said you caused trouble at the airport and tried to assault Mr. Thompson!” “Their flight attendant had no choice but to remove you from the plane to protect Mr. Thompson. Not only do you not repent, you dared to refund their deposit?” I froze for a moment, then couldn’t help laughing when I realized. The flight attendant’s ability to twist the truth was truly first-rate. To shirk responsibility for the overbooked flight, she could even fabricate such lies. Even more ridiculous was that the Thompson family believed this nonsense without even checking. “Old Mr. Thompson has spoken. You will immediately get to Houston to apologize to Mr. Thompson and arrange the surgery!” “If you dare not go, I’ll fire you immediately!” I ignored the shouting on the phone, took out a blank sheet of paper, and quickly wrote a resignation letter. Then I went upstairs and pushed open the director’s office door. Director Tony was holding his phone. He froze when he saw me enter. “Smack!” I slammed the resignation letter heavily on his desk. “No need to fire me. I quit.” Director Tony looked at the resignation letter on the desk, eyes wide. “Are you crazy? You think resigning will help you escape?” I placed both hands on the desk, looking down at him from above. “Director, I’ve been too tired lately. I’m planning to take a long vacation out of town.” “My medical license—if the Thompson family can revoke it, let them try. As for them wanting to blacklist me, let them.” With that, I turned and walked away. “Stop!” “Get back here!” Director Tony raged impotently behind me. But I didn’t look back. I walked straight out of the office. Calculating the time, it was about right. Thompson’s terminal illness was being kept alive by my specially prepared medicine. Now that the medicine was gone, it was time for the illness to flare up.

When I got home, I turned off my phone, drew the curtains, and went straight to bed. The next morning, the moment I turned on my phone, it was full of missed calls from the Thompson family. Then a strange number with a local area code called. The moment I answered, a familiar voice came through. “Dr. Mary! Please come back to the airport immediately! Mr. Thompson vomited blood and passed out on the plane!” “The airline has approved a free business class seat for you—a private charter to Houston!” It was yesterday’s flight attendant. I scoffed coldly and exposed her without mercy. “Free business class? Just now weren’t you saying I was poor and only deserved to be thrown off the plane?” “Stop your nonsense!” She panicked, her tone still imperious. “The Thompson family is pressuring the airline right now. If I lose my job because of you, I won’t let you off! Get over here now!” I hung up directly and blocked this number too. But less than half an hour later, there was pounding on my door. “BANG BANG BANG!” Accompanied by a strong, pungent smell. “Mary! You murderous quack! Get out here!” I yanked the door open. A bucket of red paint splashed across my security door, dripping down through the crack. The flight attendant, with several security guards in airline uniforms, blocked my doorway menacingly. The hallway was already filled with neighbors peeking out, their gossiping voices rising. “What a sin. She usually seems like such a quiet girl, but she’s actually a black-hearted doctor.” “Exactly! Someone came to her door and threw paint. She must have done something terrible!” The flight attendant heard the surrounding discussion and became even more pleased. “Everyone look! This is the quack doctor!” “She took the patient’s money but didn’t do her job, deliberately delaying treatment until the patient’s life was in danger!” “Now she’s hiding at home playing dead. This kind of black-hearted doctor should be arrested and sentenced!” Her face was twisted. She’d obviously been pushed to the edge by the Thompson family and wanted to use me as a scapegoat to earn favor. “You think hiding will work? Today you’ll crawl to Houston even if you have to!” I looked at the red paint all over the floor. Just as I was about to call the police, heavy footsteps came from the stairwell. Several bodyguards in black roughly pushed aside the onlooking neighbors. Butler John came upstairs, looking down at me from above. The flight attendant immediately rushed to greet him when she saw him. “Mr. John, look! I found this woman! She definitely won’t delay Mr. Thompson’s treatment!” John didn’t even give her a proper glance. He walked straight to me. “Dr. Mary, finished throwing your tantrum?” He pulled out a check and waved it between his fingers. “Six million. Double the price.” “Come with me right now, and our family can let bygones be bygones.” I didn’t even look at the check. I coldly spat out two words. “Not going.” “Don’t be ungrateful!” John’s face instantly darkened as he dropped all pretense. “You really think you can afford to offend our family?” He leaned in slightly, his voice extremely low but bone-chillingly cold. “If you won’t go willingly, I’ll tie you up and drag you to the operating table today.” “If you won’t operate, our family has ways to make you operate.” “I heard Dr. Mary’s mother is currently staying at Green Care Nursing Home?” My whole body shook. They were despicable enough to track down my mother’s location! “You dare touch my mother and see what happens!” I clenched my teeth, staring at him. “To cure the young master’s illness, our family will do anything.” John sneered continuously, his face full of arrogance. “You’d better be smart and go pack your things now.” “Otherwise, I guarantee your mother will be kicked out of the nursing home today and left homeless on the streets!” The surrounding bodyguards immediately stepped forward and restrained me. The flight attendant gloated from the side. “Did you hear? You dare show off in front of the Thompson family? How audacious!” Looking at their shameless behavior, I suddenly laughed. John frowned, extremely impatient. “What are you laughing at!” “I’m laughing at how stupid you are.” I stopped smiling and looked at the flight attendant who was still gloating. “You think I don’t want to save Thompson?” “Even if I go now, he won’t survive.” John’s face changed dramatically. He grabbed my collar. “What do you mean!”

“Ask her.” “Yesterday at the airport departure hall, she broke my suitcase.” “She also crushed the special medicine I specifically prepared for Thompson.” “Without this medicine to protect his heart meridian, forget surgery—he won’t even survive the anesthesia!” The smile on the flight attendant’s face instantly froze. “Stop slandering me!” “You deliberately spilled your things yourself, and now you want to blame me?” “Butler John, don’t listen to this crazy woman. She’s a fraud!” I watched her panic and found it laughable. “The departure hall surveillance recorded everything clearly. Want to check it yourself?” John stared at me hard, as if trying to judge whether I was telling the truth. After a long moment, he snorted coldly. “Stop making excuses! Our family has access to all the precious medicinal materials in the world. At worst, we’ll have someone prepare another dose!” “Now, come with me immediately!” He waved his hand. Several bodyguards in black directly lifted me up and forcibly stuffed me into a black business van parked downstairs. Several hours later, I was brought to the entrance of Houston First Hospital’s intensive care unit. Through the glass, Thompson was covered in tubes, and the monitor beside him emitted sharp alarm sounds. “Heart rate continuously dropping! Blood pressure barely measurable!” Several experts surrounded the bed, sweating profusely but helpless. “The miracle doctor is here!” John pushed through the crowd and pulled me to the front. At the end of the corridor, an elderly man with silver hair and an imposing presence walked over with a cane. Thompson’s grandfather, Paul, looked me up and down and directly handed me a blank check. “Fill in any amount you want.” “As long as you can save my grandson, our family won’t treat you poorly.” “But if you can’t save him…” His voice suddenly turned cold, full of killing intent. “I’m afraid your mother won’t be safe.” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The Thompson family members were all cut from the same cloth. “Mr. Paul, you certainly have impressive authority.” I looked at him coldly, not taking the check. “Unfortunately, your grandson’s life can’t be bought back with any amount of money.” Paul flew into a rage, raising his cane and striking it heavily on the ground. “Outrageous! You dare curse my grandson!” “Someone, tie her up and throw her in the operating room! Today she’ll operate whether she wants to or not!” The bodyguards immediately surrounded me. I didn’t resist. I just took out my phone from my pocket and opened a video. I held the phone screen up to Paul’s face and pressed play. In the video was yesterday’s scene of the flight attendant crushing the medicine. “This medicine is one of a kind in the world.” “Without this medicine to protect his heart meridian, even God couldn’t save him.” Paul suddenly turned his head and looked at the flight attendant cowering in the corner. The flight attendant was so frightened her legs gave out. She fell directly to her knees. “Please let me explain…” “SLAP!” A loud slap landed hard on her face. The flight attendant’s face instantly swelled on one side, blood trickling from her mouth. She covered her face, scared out of her wits. “It wasn’t me! It was her! This woman is lying!” The flight attendant pointed at me, trying to throw all the blame on me. Paul was shaking with rage, his hand pointing at the flight attendant trembling.

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I was in the middle of negotiating a business deal when my husband Ethan’s newly hired intern, Lily, barged in and demanded I go buy her breakfast. Watching the client’s face darken, I immediately threw her out. Afterward, I apologized repeatedly before finally securing the partnership. Just as I was about to share the good news with Ethan, patent agreement in hand, he slapped me twice across the face in front of the entire company. “You vicious woman! Is money all you ever think about? Do you know you almost got Lily killed?” That’s when I learned Lily had been hospitalized for low blood sugar from skipping breakfast. But there was clearly chocolate on her desk that I’d bought for her earlier. I looked up at Ethan’s furious face. My cheeks burned, but my heart went cold. After a long silence, I finally spoke: “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.” The moment those words left my mouth, Ethan’s expression froze. Then he grabbed a janitor’s mop bucket and dumped the filthy water over my head. Ice-cold, reeking water soaked through my clothes. My white shirt clung to my skin, revealing the color of my bra underneath. The stench spread through the air. I was completely drenched, hair plastered to my face, water dripping down my cheeks. Under everyone’s stares, I’d never felt more humiliated. Ethan pointed at me, his tone violent: “Not thinking clearly? Let me help you wake up.” A deathly silence fell over the room. All the employees kept their heads down. I clutched the patent agreement, now soaked, my fingertips ice cold. A wave of bitterness surged in my chest as I shot back: “Ethan, do you know what this project bonus is for? It’s to save my mother’s life. What could be more important than keeping the company from going bankrupt, more important than keeping my mom alive? Lily had low blood sugar, but her desk was full of soda and chocolate I gave her. Why didn’t she eat any of it? There were so many idle colleagues just now. Why did she specifically barge in to find me while I was negotiating a hundred-million-dollar project? Let me be blunt—I’m the Vice President of this company. Why should I buy breakfast for an intern?” Ethan’s face turned pale. He seemed at a loss for words, then let out a cold snort: “Since you want this money so badly, fine. I’ll tell you right now—I won’t give you a single cent of this project bonus. I’m awarding it all to Lily.” My whole body shook. I couldn’t believe these words were coming from my husband of ten years: “On what grounds?” His tone was cold, looking at me with contempt: “Your mom’s already got one foot in the grave. Does this money even matter? Lily is young with a bright future ahead. This money suits her better. It’ll also knock down that arrogant attitude of yours.” Those words stabbed into my chest like a knife. I steadied my trembling body as tears finally spilled down my face. This company survived until today not because of him, but because of the patent my mother developed by exhausting her life’s work. My mother contracted cancer precisely because developing that patent meant long-term exposure to experimental metal radiation. It was because of my mother’s sacrifice that I threw everything into securing this project. For this project, I pulled every string I could, drank until I had stomach bleeding at business dinners, just to connect with this well-established partner who could provide a hundred-million-dollar collaboration deal. But now… My voice trembled, tears beyond my control: “Ethan, have you forgotten how you begged my mother when you were penniless, begging her to give you the patent? My mom felt sorry for me, pitied you, and let the company use her core patent for over a decade for free—not asking for a single cent. Now you talk about her like this. Doesn’t your own heart ache?” Complete silence fell. My accusation echoed through the office. All the employees looked at me with sympathy, then began discussing in lowered voices. “Ethan went too far. How could he say something like that?” “Right? We were all free at the time. Lily didn’t come to any of us—why did she specifically go find Jordan while she was in the middle of a project meeting?” “So this company exists today because of Jordan’s mother. Ethan’s words are just too…”

The employees’ murmurs died down when they met Ethan’s dark expression. The whispered sympathy and indignation fell on his ears. Ethan’s face alternated between pale and flushed, utterly humiliated. Cornered by the accusations, Ethan’s tone softened for a rare moment: “Jordan, I… I didn’t mean it like that…” Before he could finish, footsteps echoed from the lobby entrance. Lily was being supported by bodyguards, her face pale, stumbling as she rushed in. Her voice dripped with theatrical grievance: “Stop fighting, please! It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have troubled the Vice President to buy me breakfast.” “A poor person like me isn’t worth anything. I don’t deserve to make you angry on my account.” “It’s all my fault. Please don’t fight because of me…” Lily cried while actually starting to kneel before me. “I was so thoughtless! I shouldn’t have asked the Vice President to buy breakfast. The Vice President did nothing wrong—it’s all my fault. Someone like me is worthless anyway. I might as well just jump out a window.” She screamed and rushed toward the window, acting like she wanted to end her life. Ethan’s face changed drastically. He immediately rushed forward and grabbed her tightly, pulling her back with force: “Lily! Don’t be rash! I’m here.” After some struggle, he pulled her back into his embrace. But during the scuffle, the top button of Ethan’s shirt popped open. From his neck down to his chest—covered in fresh and faded red marks. We’d been sleeping in separate beds for nearly a month now. His late nights coming home, the perfume smell on him, the mysterious expenses, how he never let his phone out of his sight. All the signs I’d ignored suddenly connected in that moment. He was having an affair. With this intern he held so precious. My whole body went cold. Even breathing hurt. Seeing me staring at his neck, panic flashed in Ethan’s eyes, quickly replaced by rage: “Jordan, what’s the point of dredging up your mother’s old business? I run this company now, and you need to listen to me.” “Stop trying to fool me. Your mother’s illness isn’t that serious. She said herself it’s nothing major. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” Bitterness surged in my chest again. My mom had pretended she was fine so Ethan could focus on the company without distraction. But if he’d just asked at the hospital even once, he’d know my mom would die soon without surgery. Before I could respond, he continued: “You think being Vice President gives you some kind of superiority? Starting today, you’re demoted. You’ll be Lily’s assistant and learn how to be a decent human being.” That sentence ignited all the humiliation I’d endured today and my fury over Ethan’s affair. I couldn’t control myself anymore. I raised my hand to slap Lily across the face. Ethan moved quickly, immediately shouting: “Security! Hold her down.” Two large bodyguards instantly rushed forward, twisting my arms and pinning me so I couldn’t move. Ethan’s eyes turned vicious. “Still trying to hit people? Beat her. Beat her until she comes to her senses.” Slap after slap landed on my face. At least a dozen. My lip split, my cheeks swelled and burned, my ears rang, darkness crept into my vision. Ethan glared coldly at all the employees: “What happened today—anyone who breathes a word of this gets fired immediately and blacklisted permanently.” The bodyguards shoved me hard to the ground. Covered in filthy water mixed with tears and blood, I looked as pathetic as a drowned rat. I tried to push myself up. Ethan walked over and crouched down in front of me. “Jordan, if you dare call the police, I’ll stop your mother’s medication immediately and let her fend for herself.”

My chest constricted sharply. Sourness rushed straight to my nose. My mom spent her whole life as a professor—frugal and modest. Most of her savings went to Ethan’s startup, the rest to charity. She kept nothing for herself. I bit down hard on my teeth, unable to say a word. I could only swallow the choking bitterness in my throat. I stumbled out of the company and headed straight for the hospital. But just as I reached the inpatient building, the doctor called, his voice urgent: “Ms. Rivers, your mother’s medication has been stopped.” My whole body trembled. With shaking hands, I dialed Ethan’s number. The moment he answered, his cold voice came through: “This is your lesson. Behave yourself. Come to the company tomorrow to be Lily’s assistant, or your mother won’t last another day.” Through the receiver, I heard Lily’s sweet, cloying laugh: “Ethan, let’s go to that Japanese restaurant tonight, okay?” The call ended. I stood in the hospital’s cold corridor, watching patients’ families come and go, finally unable to hold myself up. I slowly sank to the ground and cried. I clutched the salary card I’d saved for ten whole years, my hands shaking as I handed it to the payment window. The nurse swiped it, then looked up at me with a gentle shake of her head, her tone sympathetic: “Ms. Rivers, this card has been frozen. The primary cardholder needs to unfreeze it before it can be used.” In an instant, all the strength drained from my body. Ten years of marriage. I’d stood by him from nothing to the brink of going public. In his eyes, I wasn’t worth a single cent. My mom was still in her hospital room waiting for life-saving medication. I had no choice. I wiped the tears from my face, gritted my teeth, and headed back to the company. By the time I stumbled back to the office, it was long past closing time. Only the top-floor executive office still had its lights on. Just as I reached the elevator, the head of security blocked my path, looking me up and down with disdain: “Ms. Rivers? Oh wait—you’ve been demoted. What are you doing at the company now? Planning to steal something?” I had no energy to argue with him. I shoved him aside and rushed toward the office. The closer I got to the door, the clearer I could hear the indecent sounds coming from inside. A woman’s sultry moans mixed with a man’s heavy grunts, along with the desk creaking under strain. “Ethan, slower… I can’t take it anymore…” “What if that shrew finds out? She’ll beat me…” Ethan’s voice came through between ragged breaths: “Don’t worry. She can only depend on me now. Without me, she’s nothing…” My mother was dying in the hospital, and he was here sleeping with his intern. Overwhelming fury and humiliation instantly clouded my judgment. I raised my foot and kicked the office door hard. “BANG.” The door flew open. The scene inside was obscene. Ethan immediately grabbed his shirt to cover himself, pointing at me and cursing: “Jordan! Have you lost your mind?! Acting like a total psycho—wasn’t the last lesson enough for you?!” My whole body trembled. Tears finally fell uncontrollably. I stared at him hard, my voice hoarse beyond recognition: “Ethan, what will it take for you to give my mother her medication?” He straightened his clothes, pulled a document from his drawer, and threw it on the desk. “Simple. Sign this patent transfer agreement. Transfer the core patent from your mother’s name to mine personally.” “The patent is still in your mother’s hands. I’m not comfortable with that. Sign it, and I’ll renew your mother’s medication immediately.” I stared at the agreement, my whole body shaking with rage. That patent cost my mother half her life’s work. She got cancer from radiation exposure developing it. It was her life. “I’ll never sign. This is my mother’s lifelong work. Don’t even think about it.”

“Then don’t blame me for forcing you.” Ethan’s expression darkened as he advanced toward me. I was about to step back when sudden, sharp pain exploded at the back of my head. My vision went black instantly. The world spun. I struggled to turn my head. The last thing I saw was Lily holding a black iron rod. Ethan’s icy voice reached my ears: “Let you experience what Lily went through. See if you still talk back.” With that, he intimately took Lily’s arm, and they turned to leave. I completely lost consciousness and collapsed heavily to the floor. When I regained consciousness, darkness surrounded me. The air reeked of mildew and dust. I was locked in an abandoned warehouse. Doors and windows sealed tight. I called for help, but no one came. I still wore that filthy water-soaked shirt, cold and stinking against my skin. My stomach growled with hunger. My lips cracked and peeled. Not a drop of water to drink. Cold, hungry, thirsty—I was on the verge of collapse. And all I could think about was my mother in the hospital without her medication. Was she in pain? Was she suffering? Was she… I didn’t dare think further. I curled up in the corner, breaking down. I don’t know how many times I passed out, only watching the sun rise and set through the window. Two full days and nights. I had no chance to call for help. Just as my consciousness was about to fade completely, the warehouse door suddenly opened. A longtime company employee passing by discovered me barely alive and got me out. The first thing I did was take a cab to the hospital, then borrowed the driver’s charging cable to charge my phone. The moment it powered on, a text message popped up. “Is this Professor Quinn’s daughter? I’m Professor Quinn’s former student. I heard Professor Quinn’s patent license to Gray Corporation has expired. Our Sullivan Group is willing to pay ten billion for ten years of usage rights, with 51% profit sharing. Would you be interested?” Before I could reply to that message, the car had already stopped at the hospital entrance. I stumbled inside, running straight into my mother’s attending physician: “Where’s my mom? How is she?” The doctor looked troubled. “Ms. Rivers, your mother was already discharged by someone else and transferred home. All treatment was stopped.” My head buzzed. “Who did it?” “A young woman. She said she was following Mr. Gray’s orders, that home care would be fine.” “I explained Professor Quinn’s serious condition to her. She said the family didn’t have money for hospitalization…” It was Lily. I ran home like a madwoman. The moment I pushed open the door, my entire world collapsed. My mother lay quietly on the cold floor, her face pale, no longer breathing. She was gone. While I was locked in that warehouse crying for help. While Ethan and Lily were enjoying themselves. My mother—who lived her whole life in modest poverty, who gave us everything—died alone. Without medication. Without treatment. Just like that, she was gone. I knelt on the floor, holding my mother’s gradually cooling body, sobbing until my heart shattered. Until I couldn’t make a sound anymore. Only suppressed whimpers remained. I couldn’t understand how everything had turned out this way. I didn’t notify Ethan. During those days handling funeral arrangements, I moved like a walking corpse. Until an elegant, dignified man entered the mourning hall to pay his respects. Afterwards, he turned to look at me. “Ms. Rivers, my deepest condolences. I’m Sebastian Sullivan, Professor Quinn’s former student and the person who sent you that message.” After I told him everything in fragments, his expression darkened bit by bit, the pressure around him becoming frightening: “I never imagined we’d meet under these circumstances. This is my fault. I sent the Professor messages recently that she never replied to. I should have looked for her sooner.” He lowered his head in self-reproach. I shook my head, indicating he shouldn’t blame himself. My mom didn’t want to make a big deal of her illness. She always thought of others first. She knew if her students found out she was sick, they’d visit every day. Sebastian understood my mother’s nature and sighed. I looked up at Sebastian with red eyes: “Mr. Sullivan, I wonder if you’re still willing to sign that licensing agreement?” This was something my mother paid for with her life. I would never let Ethan profit from it by a single cent again. Sebastian nodded firmly. Just as the pen touched paper to sign, my phone vibrated. A message from Ethan: “Have you thought it over? Sign the patent transfer agreement, and I’ll have the hospital give Mom her medication and surgery immediately.” Reading that message, my chest felt like it was being torn open, the pain suffocating. The hatred made my whole body tremble. My mom was already dead, and he was still threatening me with her life. Sebastian pressed his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be impulsive. For evil people to fall the hardest, you have to wait until they’re at their highest point.” He was right. I gripped my phone tightly but ultimately didn’t reply with a single word. On the other side, Ethan waited a long time without receiving my response. An inexplicable panic rose in his heart. He turned to ask Lily, who was nestled in his arms: “When you went to the hospital that day, did the doctor say how serious Mom’s condition really was?” Lily’s eyes flickered. She forced herself to stay calm: “Not serious at all. The doctor said it was just a minor issue that would get better with rest. Jordan was just making a mountain out of a molehill.” Ethan breathed a sigh of relief and sneered: “I knew it. She was just using her mother to manipulate me.” “But it doesn’t matter if she won’t budge. At the company’s IPO launch the day after tomorrow, I’ll publicly announce that the patent belongs to the company. Done deal. Anyway, my mother-in-law has always been fond of me. When the time comes, I’ll sweet-talk her a bit and she definitely won’t make a fuss.” Lily immediately smiled, her eyes crinkling: “Ethan, you’re so clever! Once we go public, we’ll be the envy of everyone.” The two embraced, fantasizing about their glorious success. Soon, Gray Corporation’s IPO launch event arrived as scheduled. The venue was brilliantly lit, packed with reporters. Ethan stood on stage, full of confidence, about to announce the company’s core patent and IPO news. Just then, his secretary rushed in, face deathly pale, voice trembling: “Mr. Gray! This is bad! Something terrible has happened.” Ethan frowned and snapped: “What are you panicking about?!” “Professor Quinn—your mother-in-law’s patent license to the company has expired! And also…” Before the secretary could finish, the venue erupted into chaos. Investors and partners’ faces instantly changed. Ethan waved his hand impatiently: “What’s there to worry about?! That’s my mother-in-law’s patent. One phone call from me and it’s settled. What’s the big deal?!” The secretary closed their eyes in despair. “Mr. Gray, Professor Quinn has passed away from illness.”

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I always felt like my husband had some kind of condition. Every time we had sex, his rough fingertips would push me to climax over and over, But just as he was about to fully possess me, he’d always pull away abruptly. All night, I listened to the water running in the bathroom and the muffled sound of a man trying to breathe quietly. I figured he must have been forced into this marriage. That was why he was so half-hearted. Then came that night. Divorce papers in hand, I stopped outside the study. The door was half-open. “Kai, you’re clearly addicted to Nora, so why won’t you touch her?” “Human girls can’t resist temptation. You better watch out or some other wolf will steal her away one of these days.” The man being teased took a leisurely sip of his drink, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck. “What do you guys know? I dream about absorbing her into my very bones. But what if I lose control and hurt her? What if I scare her away and she doesn’t want me anymore?” His friends all laughed at that. “Then maybe stop taking those ice-cold showers for two hours every night.” That same night, while Kai was in the bathroom taking another cold shower, I unlocked his tablet with trembling hands. Ninety-nine search history entries, all variations of the same question. “I finally married my mate, but I’m a werewolf and she’s just a human. How can I have sex with her without hurting her?”

My fingers flew across the tablet screen, The further down I scrolled, the more my hands shook, until even my breathing trembled. A condition? Forced marriage? Frigid? All lies. He was actually a werewolf! The bathroom water stopped. Before I could process the truth, the bedroom door swung open. Kai’s black hair was still dripping wet. When he saw me holding his tablet, the color drained completely from his face, and he even stopped drying his hair. He froze in the doorway, panic and helplessness flashing in his eyes. We stared at each other silently for a good ten seconds before I finally broke the silence, my voice shaking uncontrollably, “Kai, is all this stuff you posted real?” His Adam’s apple bobbed hard as he walked toward me step by step. “Nora, let me explain…” “Explain what? Explain that you’re a werewolf? A monster?” I looked up at him, my eyes instantly reddening, “You’ve been lying to me this whole time!” “Yes.” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were filled with honest humility, “I’m the Alpha of the Karen Pack of werewolves. I’m sorry, Nora. I’ve been hiding this from you for so long.” “What about the arranged marriage?” My voice tightened, “When my sister suddenly called off the engagement and ran to Europe, you had something to do with that, didn’t you? This marriage was your scheme from the very beginning?” “Yes.” He didn’t hide anything, his voice hoarse as he laid out all his secrets, “The day of our college graduation, the first time I saw you, I knew you were my fated mate-my one and only partner for life.” “To switch the arranged marriage to you, I helped your sister arrange everything for Europe so she could pursue the life she wanted without any worries.” At this point, Kai clenched his fists, “It’s not that I didn’t want to touch you-I was afraid I couldn’t control the werewolf possessiveness and would hurt you. Even more, I was afraid that if you found out I wasn’t human, you’d be scared of me. That you’d leave me.” He laid all his restraint, all these years of hidden love, bare before me. My heart felt sour and numb, but more than anything, I was shocked at being deceived and terrified by this truth about werewolves that was beyond my comprehension. For twenty-four years, I’d never imagined that the husband who’d slept beside me for half a year wasn’t human. Looking at this man I’d once thought cold and distant, I only felt he was strange and frightening. I jerked backward, avoiding his outstretched hand. “Don’t touch me!” My voice cracked with tears as my whole body trembled, “Kai, you say you love me, but you couldn’t even give me basic honesty. You lied to me for six whole months!” “Did you ever think about how scared I’d be when I found out?” “Nora, I…” His eyes filled with hurt and regret, “I was just afraid of losing you. I never wanted to hurt you, never.” “Stop talking.” I grabbed my coat and bag from the bed, desperate to escape this suffocating place. Kai’s tall figure blocked my path, his hands covering my shoulders as he looked at me with reddening eyes, “Nora, I won’t force you, just don’t run away, okay?” His voice shook hoarsely, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. You can yell at me, punish me-I’ll take it all. Just don’t go out alone. I’m worried about you.” I wrenched free of his grip. “Kai, I think we both need to calm down.” Ignoring his anxious calls behind me, I slammed the door and drove off, heading straight to my best friend Jade’s house.

When Jade opened the door and saw my tear-stained face, she jumped in alarm and quickly pulled me inside. “Nora? What happened? Didn’t you say you were going to ask Kai for a divorce? Did he fight with you?” All the emotions I’d bottled up that night came crashing down. I buried myself in her arms and told her everything about Kai. Jade’s eyes went wide as saucers, her face full of disbelief. “This is more insane than a movie plot! There are actually werewolves in the real world?” “So he’s not impotent-he’s afraid of losing control and hurting you? And he’s had a crush on you for four or five years?” “Yes.” I sniffled and grabbed the whiskey from the table, taking a large gulp, “But my head’s a complete mess right now, Jade. I don’t know how to face him.” “So what are you going to do? Actually get divorced?” Jade handed me a tissue, asking carefully. My hand holding the glass froze. Divorce? I’d been set on divorce before because I thought this marriage had no love-only half-hearted obligation. But now that I knew about all his restraint and deep feelings, I couldn’t bring myself to say the word “divorce.” Yet I couldn’t immediately accept that he was a werewolf and interact with him without any reservations either. “I don’t know.” I took another gulp of whiskey, my eyes reddening even more, “I just feel so confused. He kept me in the dark for so long. Now when I look at him, he feels like a stranger.” Jade didn’t push me further, just kept me company as I drank glass after glass. My mind was chaotic and stifled. I drank quickly and heavily, and before long, my consciousness grew fuzzy. In my daze, I thought I heard my phone vibrating non-stop, but my eyelids felt glued shut. I simply turned off my phone, rolled over, and passed out. Meanwhile, at the villa, Kai sat in the living room all night, the ashtray piling up with cigarette butts as the bloodshot in his eyes grew heavier. Looking at the messages that remained unanswered, his mood grew increasingly heavy, but he didn’t dare push too hard, afraid I’d become even more resistant. He leaned back, muttering to himself, “Nora, what am I supposed to do with you?” When I woke up the next day, my head felt like it was about to explode, my throat was parched, and my whole body was weak. Rubbing my neck, I picked up my phone. The moment I turned it on, a flood of messages and missed calls poured in. Reading through dozens of messages made my chest ache. Jade woke up too, yawning as she asked me, “Awake? Figured things out yet?” I shook my head, but I knew that no matter how confused I felt, I couldn’t keep hiding here forever. What needed to be faced would eventually have to be faced. After saying goodbye to Jade, I drove back to the villa. As soon as I pushed open the front door, the heavy smell of cigarette smoke hit me. Kai sat on the couch, radiating unmistakable exhaustion. Hearing the door open, he whipped his head around. The moment he saw me, he immediately stood and strode quickly toward me. “Nora, you’re back.” His voice was extremely hoarse, his gaze urgently scanning me, “Are you hungry? I kept some porridge warm for you.” His cautious demeanor made me feel even worse. But thinking about how he’d hidden things from me for six months, I hardened my heart and didn’t respond. Just then, his gaze fell on my neck, and his pupils constricted sharply. In that instant, I clearly felt the surrounding air turn cold. An extremely strong sense of oppression emanated from him, and even his breathing grew several times heavier. He opened his mouth, his Adam’s apple rolling repeatedly. “You… who were you with last night?” “None of your business. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m going upstairs.” I waved him off and walked straight upstairs without another glance. After I turned to go upstairs, Kai’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white, and he ground his teeth. The werewolf possessiveness over one’s fated mate was an instinct carved into their bloodline. Those overlapping red marks on my neck stabbed into his heart like needles. Jealousy and pain submerged him like a tidal wave, but he didn’t even have the right to question me. He was the one who’d hidden his identity first. He was the one who’d never dared touch her, making her suffer so much grievance. He closed his eyes, forcibly suppressing the metallic taste rising in his throat, left only with overwhelming bitterness.

I collapsed into bed as soon as I got to my room. The hangover hit hard, and by the time I woke up, it was already completely dark outside. As I tried to get up, I felt burning hot all over, without even the strength to kick off the covers. In my daze, the bedroom door was gently pushed open. The moment Kai entered and saw me curled up under the blanket, my cheeks flushed red with fever, he walked quickly over and touched my forehead. His whole body panicked. “Nora?” “How did you get such a high fever?” I frowned and instinctively shrank away, my voice hoarse. “I don’t need you. Go away.” His hand froze in mid-air, his eyes instantly flooding with heartache and self-blame. “Be good, don’t fuss. Let’s take your temperature and you’ll feel better after taking medicine, okay?” He turned and quickly fetched a thermometer and fever medicine. I was too dizzy and weak to argue with him, letting him help me obediently swallow the medicine. When his cool fingertips touched my burning lips, the hand at his side clenched tightly, and his breathing grew heavy. In my foggy consciousness, I seemed to hear the sound of cold water running in the bathroom, continuing for a very long time. When I fully woke up again, it was already morning. As soon as I opened my eyes, I found myself tightly held in Kai’s arms. Seeing me awake, he immediately looked down at me, his fingertips touching my forehead before he let out a heavy sigh of relief. “The fever’s finally broken. Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere? Do you want some water?” Looking at the dense bloodshot in his eyes, most of my anger dissipated, though my words remained stubborn. I struggled out of his embrace, saying ungraciously, “I won’t die. I don’t need your fake kindness.” Kai’s hand froze in mid-air, a flash of hurt crossing his eyes as he said quietly, “It’s my fault for not taking good care of you. I knew you’d been drinking but still let you catch a chill and get a fever.” “What does my fever have to do with you?” I looked at him as two days’ worth of grievance and anger suddenly surged up, “Kai, who are you putting on this devoted act for now? You weren’t honest from the start, and after we got married you wouldn’t even touch me. What exactly do you think I am?” The more I talked, the more wronged I felt, and I continued recklessly. “Jade already found me two male models with eight-pack abs. Being with them would be better than staying with an old-fashioned stick-in-the-mud like you!” The moment those words left my mouth, Kai’s expression changed instantly. His pupils contracted sharply, his hand gripping the bedsheet so tightly his knuckles went white. But seeing my reddened eyes, that towering rage was forcibly suppressed. “Nora, I’m sorry.” Seeing him only capable of apologizing made me even angrier. I rolled over with my back to him, not wanting to deal with him anymore. Kai sat behind me for a long time-so long I thought he’d left-before I felt him gently touch my hair, “It’s my fault. All of it is my fault.” His voice was very low, heavy with self-blame, “Don’t be angry, and don’t go to anyone else, okay? Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. I’ll change everything.” I ignored him, keeping my eyes closed and pretending to sleep. He sighed softly and got up to leave. The moment the door closed, I opened my eyes, my heart a tangled mess. Outside the door, Kai leaned against the wall and closed his eyes hard. His friends were right. If he kept being such a coward, he really would lose his fated mate. Kai pulled out his phone and messaged his childhood friends, asking them to come to the house. He needed these brothers to help him figure out how to make his little mate stop being angry, How to make her completely believe that he loved her more than his own life.

The fever completely broke the next afternoon. After sleeping through it, I woke up feeling much lighter, though my stomach growled with hunger. I wanted to go downstairs to find something to eat. Just as I reached the top of the stairs, I heard Kai’s friends’ voices. “Kai, you’re clearly addicted to Nora, so why won’t you touch her?” “Human girls can’t resist temptation. You better watch out or some other wolf will steal her away one of these days.” Kai’s voice carried deep exhaustion, “I’m afraid she hasn’t recovered yet. She’s still angry with me and won’t even talk to me.” “Being angry means she cares! If she really didn’t care, she would’ve asked for a divorce already. Would she even come back to this house?” “You didn’t dare touch her before, and now you don’t dare speak up. Wait until Nora really runs off with someone else-you won’t even have a place to cry!” Listening to their conversation, the last of my stubbornness and anger gradually faded. I took a deep breath, about to walk downstairs and talk everything through with him. Just then, the doorbell suddenly rang. The crisp chime was particularly jarring in the quiet living room. Immediately after, two young men’s voices came from the entrance, loud enough to penetrate right through the door. “Is Nora here? We’re sent by Jade. She said you weren’t feeling well and asked us to come keep you company and cheer you up!” The conversation in the living room stopped abruptly. I froze on the stairs, my mind going blank with a buzzing sound. Oh no. When I’d been venting to Jade earlier, in the heat of the moment I’d agreed to her suggestion about male models, then completely forgot about it. I never thought she’d actually send people over, and at this exact moment! The living room fell deathly silent. The next second, I saw Kai walk to the door. His voice was as cold as ice. “Get lost.” The two male models outside hesitated, trying to say something more, when Kai spoke again, “Say one more word and I’ll make sure you never leave this neighborhood.” Even through a door, a top-tier Alpha’s dominant pressure was enough to make two ordinary human men break out in cold sweat. The voices outside immediately went silent, followed by panicked, fleeing footsteps. He slowly turned around. Looking up, he locked onto me standing on the stairs with pinpoint accuracy. His friends very tactfully moved toward the door. “Kai, we’ll head out now. You and Nora take care.” Kai’s gaze fixed on me as he walked toward me step by step. His eyes were thick with desire that couldn’t be dissolved, and the aura around him was frighteningly cold. He trapped me between himself and the stair railing, his tall figure completely enveloping me. “Nora,” his voice was extremely hoarse, “do you want it that badly?” My heartbeat skipped. I was about to explain that Jade had messed things up. He lowered his head, his lips brushing my neck, his hands restlessly moving downward, “Whatever they can give you, I can give you too. What they can’t give, I’ll give you even more.” His hand stopped between my legs, and my body couldn’t help trembling, “Nora, give me a chance to be your real husband, okay?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “371032”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #惊悚Thriller #重生Reborn #狼人Werewolf

My body is a traitor. To be specific, my nervous system has its wires crossed. In the cutthroat ecosystem of Hollywood, I am universally known as the ultimate crybaby. The diva who weeps at the drop of a hat. Then, I booked an extreme horror reality show. We filmed in a house where actual murders had taken place. And there I was, tears streaming down my face, revving a beat-up motorcycle with a sidecar, dragging five terrified A-listers through the dark, and belting out The Star-Spangled Banner at the top of my lungs. I became the patron saint of unhinged survival. The internet’s verdict? “I bow down to our new terrifying queen.” 1 I had been out of work for six months when the offer came in. The production team was top-tier. For a C-list actress like me, hovering dangerously close to the “where are they now” lists, this was the equivalent of a winning lottery ticket fluttering through my open window. But my manager, Valerie, looked like she was aging in dog years right in front of me. “Delilah, this cast… everyone who goes into production has to sign a liability waiver.” She slid the thick stack of papers across the desk, her manicured fingers hesitating before letting go. It was a horror-themed survival show. The first of its kind on American network television, backed by a massive budget, promising absolute, unscripted psychological terror. And I… well. I was the industry’s designated weeping willow. I cried while suspended on wire-rigs during action shoots. I teared up when interviewers raised their voices. If a harmless spider dropped onto my sleeve, my eyes would flood with red-rimmed panic. The tabloids called me manipulative. They said I weaponized my tears for sympathy. It was a spectacularly unfair accusation. I have a stress-induced lacrimation condition. An involuntary reflex. Since I was a kid, any surge of intense emotion—rage, excitement, profound injustice—bypasses my vocal cords and goes straight to my tear ducts. Sometimes, I cry so hard I literally cannot form words. The truth behind the headlines? I cried on the wire-rig because the stunt coordinator was ignoring safety protocols, and I was furious, fighting for my life. I cried in that infamous interview because the journalist was hurling misogynistic insults, and I was trying to rip him a new one. It was a never-ending cycle. In my head, I was a gladiator; on the outside, my tears stripped away every ounce of my authority. When I was seven, I got into a fight with an older boy in my neighborhood. My condition flared up. I was sobbing uncontrollably—while simultaneously pinning him to the asphalt and beating the living daylights out of him. When his parents ran over, they saw my tear-streaked face, assumed I was the victim, and dragged their son home by his ear to ground him. From that day on, I was branded with a reputation: the girl who folds and cries at the first sign of trouble. It followed me all the way to Hollywood. I had begged my PR team to release a statement explaining the medical reality of it. They refused. In their eyes, the “fragile, weeping ingenue” label was great for engagement. The internet loved to hate me. Over time, that’s just who I became to the world. When I got angry, I just stayed quiet. The bitterness pooled in my chest, unseen. “Maybe we just pass on this. A liability waiver is no joke. If you have a panic attack on live television, the studio will drop you completely.” Valerie leaned in, her voice softening. As she looked at me, I caught that familiar, fleeting look of distraction in her eyes. It was my face. The industry dragged my personality, mocked my tears, and despised my supposed fragility, but no one ever criticized my face. “We can just stick to playing the quiet, pretty girl next door…” she murmured, already pulling the contract back. Before the papers could slip off the edge of the desk, I grabbed a pen, signed my name with sharp, deliberate strokes, and pushed it back to her. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice steady. “I can do this.” What the world didn’t know was that I was a hardcore, borderline-obsessive horror fanatic. 2 The show premiered with a blitz of marketing. The call time was midnight. The location: a sprawling, desolate cemetery miles outside of city limits. To maximize the raw terror, the producers opted for hidden cameras and a live, unedited stream. The cast list had been kept strictly under wraps, leaving the internet to discover our identities in real-time as we arrived. [Wait, Cole Montgomery? They actually got Cole for this?!] [Blair Kensington is here! The scream queen herself. Lmao, remember that escape room show where everyone was sobbing and she was just casually drinking tea? She said she’s naturally desensitized to fear.] [Knowing this network, it’s a cast of six: three alphas, three absolute cowards. I’m just here to see who breaks first.] As the cast members stepped out of their SUVs one by one, the live chat was a blur of hyperactive text. Alongside the brooding, A-list heartthrob Cole Montgomery and the “fearless” Blair Kensington, there was Jaxson Ford, the martial arts action star; Dominic Russo, the gritty crime-show lead; and Garret Boyd, a massive retired NFL linebacker. It was a roster of certified tough guys and badasses. But the final guest was taking their sweet time, and the suspense was killing the internet. [Where is the last one?] [Producers are messing with us. This is a hardcore horror show, but they booked an entire team of fearless tanks. How does that even work?] [Plot twist: if they booked all tough guys, how terrifying is this show actually going to be?] Just as the collective patience of millions of viewers snapped, a sleek black production van crept into the camera’s view, rolling to a stop in front of the cast. The tinted window rolled down. The harsh floodlights caught my face, broadcasting my arrival to the world. The internet imploded. [BRO. The Crybaby is here?] [Now it makes sense why they brought five tanks. They needed to balance out the ultimate liability.] 3 I couldn’t see the live chat. But judging by the five pairs of eyes staring at me with varying degrees of utter disbelief, I knew exactly what the internet was saying. “Did production make a mistake? Why are you here?” Blair stepped forward first. She yanked the van door open, craning her neck to peer into the back, confirming I was alone. Her manicured brows pinched together. “Aren’t you just going to be a liability to us?” she muttered, just loud enough to carry. The show’s mechanics required absolute teamwork to survive the escape rooms and challenges. In Blair’s eyes, I was dead weight. [Lmao, Blair isn’t even trying to hide her disgust.] [I’d be mad too. Who wants to deal with someone who cries every five minutes?] [She’s just here for clout. Watch her pretend to be terrified so she can throw herself into the guys’ arms. Stay away from Cole!] A hot spark of irritation flared in my chest. Thankfully, six months of unemployment had taught me some self-restraint. I took a breath, gave her a flat look, and said, “I’m under contract. Let’s get to the checkpoint.” Blair immediately threw her hands up, her voice dramatically loud. “Oh my god, please don’t start. I’m just worried you won’t be able to handle it. Please don’t cry…” The sheer volume of her voice made my temples throb. Which eye of hers saw me crying? I wanted to snap back, but I could feel the familiar, traitorous prickle of heat behind my eyes. The harder I tried to force the anger down, the closer I got to losing my voice entirely. While I was swallowing down my own biology, the heavy van door on the passenger side clicked open. Cole Montgomery, who hadn’t spoken a single word since I arrived, slid into the passenger seat. “She isn’t crying,” his voice was a low, resonant rumble. “Stop stalling. Get in the car.” I blinked, startled. Did Cole… just defend me? As the undeniable heavyweight of the cast, his word was law. The guys immediately piled into the back. Only Blair remained frozen on the dirt path. She looked me up and down, then suddenly grabbed the handle of the driver’s side door. “Delilah, you’re so timid. Maybe I should drive.” She phrased it as a suggestion, but her hand was already gripping my forearm, trying to physically leverage me out of the seat. The sheer audacity. I instantly shook off her grip. “Sit in the back. Me driving is part of the mission directive.” Rejected, Blair’s face tightened into an ugly sneer. She stared at me for a long, heavy second before throwing her hands up in a mock surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll sit in the back. Just don’t cry. You’re making it look like I’m bullying you.” Excuse me? Since the moment I stepped onto this set, my emotional baseline had been a flatline. But Blair was ruthlessly pushing her narrative, twisting every interaction to fit the internet’s preconceived notion of me. And worse, the camera angle only showed the back of my head. To the millions watching at home, Blair looked like the exasperated victim of my fragile ego. The live chat was a bloodbath. [Why is she crying already?!] [Typical Delilah manipulation. So annoying. If she’s this weak, why didn’t she just go on a dating show so she can sob into some guy’s chest?] [Ngl though, she looks really pretty when she cries.] [Bro, you are starved.] 4 Blair eventually relented, sliding into the back seat. But for the entire drive, the micro-aggressions didn’t stop. “Delilah, your agency is practically throwing you to the wolves. Letting you take a gig like this just for the paycheck,” she sighed dramatically. “When we get inside, if you get so scared you can’t walk, just ask Garret to carry you.” She shot a pointed look at the former NFL player sitting in the very back. Garret was a mountain of a man, built like a brick wall, with a friendly, unassuming face. Always eager to be the good guy, he thumped his chest. “Yeah, absolutely. I got you.” Blair was playing a masterful game. Under the guise of looking out for me, she was neatly pairing me off with Garret, ensuring she could monopolize the rest of the A-list men when we got inside. “I just want everyone to look out for you, Delilah. After all, you’re not like me…” She let the sentence hang, her eyes heavy with subtext. I met her gaze in the rearview mirror. We were both veterans of this industry. Who was she trying to fool? This was high-school mean-girl politics wrapped in faux-concern. To my surprise, Dominic Russo leaned forward, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s 2026. Are we really still doing the whole ‘fragile damsel’ routine?” Ah, so there was an idiot in the car. Dominic belonged to a rival management company; of course he was going to take any opportunity to dig at me. Between Blair’s passive-aggression and Dominic’s blatant hostility, my patience snapped. I opened my mouth to verbally eviscerate them both— BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. The van’s dashboard erupted in a frantic symphony of alarms. This was a state-of-the-art smart vehicle, heavily marketed for its advanced pedestrian-detection system. The high-pitched warning meant only one thing: there were people directly outside the car. But we were driving through an abandoned, unlit cemetery in the dead of night. Who could possibly be out here? The relentless beep-beep-beep drilled into our skulls. The cabin plunged into a heavy, suffocating silence. “It’s just production messing with us… right?” Dominic asked, his voice losing its arrogant edge. Outside, the darkness was absolute. Even knowing it was likely a trick, the primal fear was contagious. On the dashboard’s radar screen, little red blips began to multiply, darting frantically along both sides of the digital car icon. [Holy shit, midnight in a graveyard and the car radar is picking up bodies?!] [Lmao, look at the action star. Jaxson is literally shrinking into his seat.] [Production is not holding back. This is terrifying.] The chat was a wall of terrified emojis. Just as the audience was bracing for a jump scare, the van violently lurched forward, shuddered, and died. “AHHH!” Blair shrieked, a piercing sound that shattered the silence. The entire car jolted. Everyone in the back seat scrambled backward in panic. Only Cole and I remained completely still in the front. “Delilah, do you even know how to drive?!” Blair yelled, her voice trembling. “What the hell was that?” Dominic demanded. “Are you trying to get us killed?!” I slowly turned around, resting my arm over the back of my seat. “The engine stalled.” For a split second, the van was dead quiet. The live feed seemed to freeze. For five long seconds, the guys just sat there, frozen in their defensive postures. I turned the key. Nothing. I tried again. Dead. In the suffocating silence, Dominic finally cleared his throat, his eyes darting to the pitch-black windows. “You know… they say if your car breaks down in a graveyard, you’re supposed to step outside and pay your respects to the dead. Ask for safe passage.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking pointedly at Jaxson. “Someone should probably go try it.” Jaxson’s face was completely devoid of expression. Very slowly, the martial arts badass scooted a few inches further away from the door. [Hahahaha! Jaxson’s tough-guy image is in shambles.] [Dominic is such a fake. Jaxson is scared, but at least he’s quiet. Dominic is terrified but trying to force someone else to be the sacrificial lamb.] [Can we talk about Blair? ‘Naturally desensitized to fear,’ my ass. She screamed louder than anyone.] [Notice how Delilah hasn’t made a single sound this whole time?] The comments rolled by, a few people finally catching on to the reality of the situation. From the moment I got in the car, I had been profoundly, beautifully calm. I was radiating the unbothered energy of a capybara at a spa. After my fourth failed attempt to turn the ignition, I looked over my shoulder at the terrified men. “Do you want me to go out and check?” 5 Maybe it was their bruised egos not letting a woman take the risk, or maybe it was a desperate attempt to save face on national television. Either way, Dominic practically threw himself out of the car. He let out a guttural, macho yell, stomping toward the hood and delivering a solid, aggressive kick to the bumper. Nothing happened. Jaxson awkwardly stepped out next, followed by Garret. The three massive men stood in the dark, facing different directions, nervously muttering disjointed apologies to the empty air and throwing random shadow-boxing punches into the fog. It was a masterclass in absurdity. After ten minutes of this embarrassing ritual, the van still wouldn’t start. Inside, Blair was curled into a tight ball on the leather seats, pale as a sheet and visibly trembling. Cole, meanwhile, was quietly attempting to radio the production crew. The internet was losing its mind: [Some people are busy. Some people are pretending to be busy. Some people can’t even pretend.] CLANG. A heavy metallic thud echoed from the darkness behind the van. The three tough guys instantly shrieked, dropping to their knees and covering their heads. Blair began to sob hysterically. In the midst of the total chaos, I calmly stepped out from behind the rear of the van, a flashlight in one hand and a heavy wrench in the other. I looked at the men cowering in the dirt, my expression completely deadpan. “We’re out of gas.” Absolute, deafening silence. Then, millions of viewers collectively lost their minds. [I am SCREAMING. The producers are evil. They gave them an empty tank and stranded them in a cemetery just to mess with their heads.] [God bless Delilah. If she had waited five more minutes, those three grown men would have been fully bowing to the dirt.] [Okay, I’m officially a Delilah stan. She is so logical! First she tries the engine, then she grabs a tool and checks the back. Standing in the dark with a wrench? Mother behavior.] [Compared to Blair whining and crying all night, Delilah is a breath of fresh air. So much for Blair’s ‘fearless’ brand.] Blair, realizing how badly she was coming across, snapped. The humiliation of being shown up by the “crybaby” was too much. She scrambled out of the car, her face twisted in a vicious sneer, and marched right up to me. “You were driving! How could you not know the tank was empty? Did you plan this with the producers to make us look like idiots?! Is this your little strategy to look cool?!” Her voice was shrill, cutting through the night air. Dominic, sensing an opportunity to deflect from his own cowardice, immediately chimed in, backing her up. That was it. My fuse burned out. “Production obviously rigged the—” I tried to defend myself, but the moment I opened my mouth, the familiar, suffocating burn of acid rushed to my throat. My eyes welled up violently. The angrier I got, the harder I fought it, and the harder I fought it, the more paralyzed my vocal cords became. Seeing my eyes shine with unshed tears, Blair moved in for the kill. “Oh, here we go! Can you stop crying every time there’s a problem?! It’s so annoying! If you’re innocent, say something! The fact that you’re crying just proves you’re guilty!” I couldn’t speak. My condition was a physical trap. My face was flushed red, my heart pounding in my ears, my mind completely blank with rage. She was dancing on my last nerve. And the worst part was, my body was betraying me again, cementing my reputation as the pathetic, weeping victim right when I wanted to tear her head off. I wanted to hit her so badly. “It has nothing to do with her. It’s a production stunt.” A voice cut through the dark like a blade of ice. Cole emerged from the shadows, his sharp features illuminated by the pale moonlight. He looked utterly untouchable. I don’t know if it was the sudden backup, but something inside me clicked. The invisible dam broke. I planted my hands on my hips, leaned forward, and screamed at the stunned Blair with the force of a hurricane: “EXACTLY!” The chat went wild. [LMAO, Delilah getting furiously angry for exactly one second.] [Am I the only one who thinks she’s adorable? Honestly, I’d be pissed too. She solved the problem, and they attacked her to cover up their own embarrassment.] [Blair has a point though. For someone who cries so much, she’s weirdly calm about the haunted cemetery. It is suspicious…] [Does crying automatically mean you’re a coward?] I couldn’t see the defense mounting for me online. But Cole’s intervention had the desired effect. No one dared to say another word. 6 The rules dictated we had to reach the main set before dawn. According to the GPS, we were miles away from the target location. With the van dead, walking through the pitch-black woods meant we would likely fail the mission. As the group stood around in defeated silence, Cole stepped forward. Without a word, he held out a set of keys and dropped them into my palm. “Production left a motorcycle down the dirt path,” he said, his voice flat. “Keys were in the ignition. It runs.” The relief was palpable. The group realized Cole hadn’t disappeared out of fear; he had gone scouting ahead for a solution. The live chat flooded with praise for Cole’s stoic leadership. But Blair couldn’t let it go. Glaring at the brief moment of connection between Cole and me, she snapped, “Cole, if you found the bike, why didn’t you just drive it back here yourself?” Dominic and the others nodded, looking equally confused. Cole had a naturally intimidating aura. When he wasn’t speaking, his dark eyes held a weight that made people physically shrink back. He stared at the group, his expression unreadable, letting the silence stretch until it became profoundly uncomfortable. The entire internet seemed to hold its breath. Finally, under the collective gaze of millions, Cole looked slightly to the side and said, with deadpan simplicity: “I don’t know how to ride a motorcycle.” I blinked. Everyone blinked. The chat exploded. [HAHAHAHA. I thought he was being mysterious. I thought he was being arrogant. No, he just literally doesn’t know how.] [Cole: You’re questioning my methods? Sir, I do not have a license.] [We love a secure king. While the rest of them were praying to ghosts, he was negotiating with producers and scouting ahead.] [Is it just me, or do Cole and Delilah have insane chemistry?] [You are not alone, bestie.] … I was the only person standing there with a motorcycle endorsement on my license. Blair looked like she had swallowed a lemon. When we finally walked down the path and saw the bike, she couldn’t resist one last dig. “Still going to claim you aren’t colluding with production? A motorcycle just happens to be waiting out here, and you’re the only one who can drive it?” Even on live television, she couldn’t mask the sheer jealousy radiating off her. My emotional baseline had leveled out. I gripped the handlebars, swung my leg over the leather seat with practiced ease, and looked down at her. “If you don’t want to get in, you can walk.” Blair shut her mouth. 7 The moment I revved the engine, dragging an overloaded sidecar and five terrified A-listers through the dark, I broke the internet. Twitter was a bloodbath of trending hashtags: #DelilahMonroeBikerQueen #DelilahDrifting #SixPeopleOneMotorcycle #HellOnWheelsDelilah The show’s viewership skyrocketed to unprecedented, record-breaking numbers. The live chat was moving so fast it was a blur. [Put this in the history books. The Founding Fathers wept.] [Delilah Monroe single-handedly carrying the entertainment industry on her back.] [Wait, is that even legal? Five people crammed into a rusted-out Ural?] [Lmao, you think the ghosts care about traffic laws?]

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Right before the holidays, my husband and I were supposed to drive back to our hometown together. I reached for the passenger door, only to find my husband ushering me to the back seat to make room for his female coworker. “Hailey gets carsick,” he told me, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re my wife, Tara. Be a team player and accommodate our guest.” He completely ignored the fact that I was pregnant, currently battling a brutal wave of morning sickness. Halfway through the drive, they deliberately lit up cigarettes in the enclosed space, the suffocating smoke forcing me to violently throw up. Disgusted by the smell, and wanting to “teach me a lesson” for ruining their vibe, my husband intentionally abandoned me at a highway rest stop. What they didn’t know was that my parents were already at that rest stop, waiting for me. And on that drive home with them, I made the silent, shattering decision to terminate my pregnancy and file for divorce. Later, when my husband found out our child was gone, he lost his mind. 1 This Christmas, my husband, Carter, and I had planned to drive back to our home state together. He left the house early that morning. I assumed he was just running to the store to grab some last-minute gifts or coffee for the road. But when I walked out to the driveway and pulled open the passenger side door of his SUV, I froze. A woman was already sitting there. I recognized her from Carter’s social media. She was a junior associate in his department. Hailey. She was undeniably young, with a fresh, effortless beauty that made the heavy winter coat she wore look like a fashion editorial. Seeing me standing there in stunned silence, Hailey offered a bright, entirely too comfortable smile. “Hi, Tara!” Before I could process that, two male voices boomed from the back seat. “Morning, Tara!” I blinked, my confusion morphing into a cold knot in my stomach as I turned to Carter. He didn’t look at me directly as he loaded the last bag into the trunk. “We’re all heading upstate for the holidays. It made sense to carpool.” “And you didn’t think to run this by me?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “I’m so sorry, Tara,” Hailey chimed in, her voice dripping with a soft, honeyed sweetness. “Carter was afraid you’d say no, so he thought it would be better to just surprise you. Please don’t be mad at him.” I swallowed the bitter taste of humiliation, deeply aware of the three pairs of eyes watching us. Not wanting to make a scene and strip Carter of his pride in front of his subordinates, I forced my voice to remain steady. “Fine. But Hailey, I need you to sit in the back. I’d like to sit up front.” Carter sighed, a harsh sound of exasperation. “Tara, come on. Hailey gets terrible motion sickness. You’re the host here. Try to be accommodating instead of acting so territorial.” “Carter, I’m pregnant,” I gritted out. “I’ve been dealing with severe morning sickness all week. You know this.” The moment the words left my mouth, Hailey’s eyes instantly welled with tears. Her lower lip trembled. “I’m so sorry, Tara. You’re right. I’ll get in the back right now.” She made a move to unbuckle, but Carter reached out, his hand firmly pressing against her shoulder to stop her. He shot me a glare sharp enough to draw blood. “Tara, you’re pregnant, you’re not dying. Stop being so fragile. Do you have no concept of hospitality? Get in the back.” My hands curled into fists inside my coat pockets. The tension in the car was suffocating. I thought of the baby growing inside me, and my parents eagerly waiting for us back home. For the sake of peace, I swallowed my pride, pulled the back door open, and slid into the cramped space. But I didn’t realize then that my initial silence was only the prologue to my humiliation. I was squeezed between two grown men—Kevin and Derek—in the back seat. Carter didn’t check on me once. Instead, he kept up a lively, flirtatious banter with Hailey. Catching a glimpse of my stiff posture in the rearview mirror, Hailey feigned concern. “Tara, is it too tight back there for you? With your… new shape, I mean. Maybe I should swap with you at the next rest stop.” Before I could even open my mouth, Carter let out an awkward, dismissive laugh. “Yeah, she’s put on a lot of weight since she got pregnant. Kevin, Derek, she’s not squishing you guys, is she?” The two men, who had been manspreading and forcing me into the middle sliver of the seat, chuckled and pulled their knees in a fraction of an inch. “Nah, we’re good.” “Good. Don’t worry about her, Hailey,” Carter said smoothly. “She’s the wife. It’s her job to look out for you guys.” His words sliced through the air, carving a deep, invisible hollow in my chest. Carter and I had been together for eight years. From our college days to our wedding, we had always been a team. Until Hailey joined his firm. At first, she was just “the new intern.” Then, she was “a really fast learner.” Eventually, he stopped saying her name altogether. Instead, Hailey simply began appearing in his social media photos—always standing just a little too close to him, both of them smiling a little too brightly. I had confronted him about it multiple times. His response was always the same cocktail of irritation and gaslighting. “Jesus, Tara! I kill myself at work every day, and I have to come home to your manufactured drama? It’s exhausting!” he had screamed during our last fight. “With your paranoia, I might as well just chain myself to the kitchen sink!” He had slammed the door and didn’t come home for a week, leaving me—pregnant and hormonal—sobbing on the bathroom floor. Looking at them now, laughing in the front seat, the devastating truth settled over me. I hadn’t been overthinking anything. Carter’s rage hadn’t come from false accusations; it had come from a guilty conscience. 2 The low, constant thrum of the highway made my stomach churn. Terrified I was actually going to be sick, I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, desperately trying to force myself to sleep. But the group up front was bored. They cranked up the stereo and decided to play a music trivia game. The bass vibrated in my teeth. The chaotic noise made it impossible to drift off. Just as I started to doze, Kevin let out a deafening shout right next to my ear. “‘Toxic’! It’s Britney! That’s five points for me!” he roared with laughter. I snapped my eyes open, turning a dark, exhausted glare his way. Kevin’s laughter died in his throat. He shifted uncomfortably. “Uh… Tara? Do you want to play?” Carter snorted from the driver’s seat. “Don’t bother asking her. She’s a total wet blanket. She’ll just kill the vibe.” He had forgotten. He had conveniently forgotten that when we met in our college debate club, it was my vibrant, outgoing energy that he claimed he fell in love with. He used to say my brightness gave him life. Now, to protect the fragile ego of his pretty coworker, he tore me down without a second thought. “Well, what made you marry her, then?” Hailey asked, her voice light, innocent, probing. “I mean, someone as successful as you, Carter… she must have some amazing hidden talent, right?” Carter smirked, a cruel, dismissive curve of his lips. “She’s… domestic, I guess. She knows how to keep a house running.” “Wait, so like a manager? Or a maid?” Hailey giggled. “I’m sure she’s a very high-end maid.” Kevin and Derek snickered. “Yeah, that’s the word. A built-in housekeeper.” My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms. Staring at the back of their heads, I let the silence stretch for a beat before I spoke, my voice dangerously soft. “Someone as entertaining and clever as you, Hailey… you’d be a much better match for Carter, wouldn’t you?” Hailey whipped her head around. In the blink of an eye, her face crumpled, and tears spilled over her lashes. “Tara! How could you say that? You’re completely misunderstanding us! I just look up to him as a mentor!” She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with perfectly timed sobs. “I know you’re just jealous, Tara. And I get it, pregnancy makes women so emotionally unstable. Carter, please, just pull over at the next exit. I’ll get an Uber the rest of the way. I don’t want to ruin your marriage.” Carter’s face instantly softened into a mask of pure panic and heartbreak. “Hailey, no, stop. Tara’s just being psychotic. She loves to start drama. Ignore her.” He reached out, grazing her arm. “You are not getting out of this car. I would never just leave you stranded.” Then, he tilted his head back, his voice hardening into a vicious bark. “What the hell is wrong with you, Tara? Can you shut your mouth for five minutes? Are you happy now that you’ve made her cry?” “If you can’t behave, I’ll kick you out at the next rest stop. You’re embarrassing me. Show some damn class.” Kevin and Derek immediately rallied to Hailey’s defense. “Yeah, Tara, that was super out of line. Carter and Hailey are totally professional. You can’t just throw accusations around.” “Seriously,” Derek muttered. “Does being pregnant just strip away all basic logic? You’re being insane.” Their voices piled on top of me, a suffocating wall of noise. My blood boiled, rushing to my ears. I wanted to throw myself out of the moving car. But watching the blurred gray of the interstate flying by, I knew I was trapped. My voice trembled with a mix of rage and absolute heartbreak. “Carter… I am your wife.” “So what?” he snapped, his eyes fixed on the road. “Just because you’re my wife means I have to coddle your delusions? Apologize to Hailey. Now.” A physical pain seized my chest, sharp and absolute. I turned my head to stare out the window, completely ignoring him. Quietly, I pulled out my phone, opened my maps app, and found the name of the nearest upcoming rest area. I texted it to my parents. I was done being a passenger in this car. And in this marriage. 3 Carter caught me looking at my phone in the rearview mirror, and his volume spiked again. “Are you seriously playing on your phone right now, Tara? I said apologize!” “It’s fine, Carter,” Hailey sniffled, playing the martyr. “She didn’t mean it.” “I am absolutely not apologizing,” I said, my voice dead flat. “You test me one more time, Tara, and I swear to God I will dump you on the side of the highway,” Carter threatened, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. I met his gaze in the mirror, unblinking, unyielding. Finally, Kevin cleared his throat, sensing the danger. “Hey, man, maybe let’s not pull over on the interstate. State troopers are everywhere. Not worth the ticket.” Carter exhaled a sharp breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Fine. We’ll deal with your attitude when we get home.” I leaned my head against the cold glass, squeezing my eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. In that moment, whatever residual love I had left for Carter evaporated into the dry, heated air of the SUV. A heavy, awkward silence descended over the car. After a few miles, Carter seemed to remember he was supposed to be the benevolent patriarch. He softened his voice, aiming for a patronizing gentleness. “Look, Tara. We’re all friends here, and we’ve got a long drive ahead. Don’t ruin the trip over one stupid comment. Just be the bigger person, show them my wife isn’t crazy, and let’s move on. Okay?” When I didn’t respond, he tried to sweeten the deal. “Be good, and when we hit the rest stop, I’ll buy you those sour gummies you like.” A hollow, humorless laugh escaped my lips. I didn’t say a word. Carter’s jaw ticked. Embarrassed that his grand gesture had failed in front of his audience, his face flushed dark red, and he went back to ignoring me. Time slipped by. I was hovering in a restless half-sleep when an acrid, chemical smell assaulted my senses. I jolted upright, gasping. “Who is smoking? Are you kidding me? I’m pregnant!” A plume of vapor and tobacco smoke drifted back from the front seats. Hailey peeked over her shoulder, an e-cigarette in her hand. “Sorry, Tara. I asked Carter, and he said it was fine.” “Yeah, you really stressed me out back there,” Hailey added with a pout. “I needed a hit to calm my nerves. Just deal with it.” “Hailey’s upset because of what you said,” Carter justified without missing a beat. “You brought this on yourself. Deal with it.” Hearing this, Kevin and Derek perked up. “Well, if we’re lighting up…” Derek pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. “I’m dying for a smoke.” I stared at them, my eyes wide with disbelief. “You are intentionally exposing my unborn baby to secondhand smoke?” “It’s just one cigarette. Stop being so dramatic,” Kevin scoffed, rolling his window down a fraction of an inch. He lit his cigarette and offered one to Carter. “You’ve been stressed lately, man. Take the edge off.” Without a second of hesitation, Carter took it. “Yeah. Just one.” “Carter! Have you lost your damn mind?” I screamed, my voice cracking. “That is your child in my stomach!” Carter froze. The lighter hovered inches from his face. Slowly, he handed the cigarette back to Kevin. “Never mind. I’ll pass. You guys wrap it up quick.” “Carter, can I at least finish mine?” Hailey whined, touching his arm. “Yeah, go ahead, Hailey. It’s Tara’s fault you’re stressed anyway.” “Well, we might as well finish ours too,” Derek chimed in, taking a long drag. Carter glanced at me in the mirror. “Just crack your window, Tara. A little smoke isn’t going to kill the kid.” A sharp cramp seized my abdomen. I clutched my stomach, staring at the back of Carter’s head like I was looking at a stranger. “What kind of father are you?” “He’s right, you know,” Hailey exhaled a cloud of fruity vapor. “They say if you’re too careful, kids grow up weak. You need to toughen the baby up early. It builds immunity.” 4 The enclosed space quickly filled with a sickening mix of cheap tobacco and artificial strawberry vapor. The fumes burned my throat and sent my already fragile stomach into a violent tailspin. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I grabbed a plastic grocery bag from the seat pocket and vomited. The sound of my retching and the sour, acidic smell instantly ruined the party. “Jesus! Watch my jacket!” Kevin shrieked, pressing himself against the door. “Oh my god, that is so disgusting. I’m going to throw up,” Hailey gagged, rolling her window all the way down. Carter didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t pull over. He panicked. “Tara! Do not get that on my leather seats! I swear to God!” Because of the sharp swerve of the car, a small amount splashed onto the floor mat. Tears of physical exertion streamed down my face, but beneath the nausea, a dark, vindictive satisfaction bloomed in my chest. I had ruined their sanctuary. And I didn’t have to suppress my sickness for their comfort anymore. I wiped my mouth with a tissue, my voice hoarse. “I told you I have severe morning sickness. Now you can deal with it.” Because we were on the highway, they couldn’t keep the windows entirely down due to the freezing wind. The car remained filled with the lingering stench of vomit and smoke. Everyone looked pale and miserable. Except me. I closed my eyes, rested my head against the cold window, and actually managed to fall asleep. Finally, the car rumbled to a stop. We had reached the rest area I had mapped out. The doors flew open, and everyone scrambled out like they were escaping a burning building. Carter included. He stormed off with a dark scowl, not throwing a single glance my way. Not a word to ask if I needed water, or to help me out of the cramped back seat. He was probably embarrassed by me. He probably wanted to put as much distance between us as possible. I watched his retreating back through the tinted glass, my expression entirely hollow. I remembered when I first found out I was pregnant. Carter had cried. He had picked me up and spun me around, and for the first three months, he treated me like glass. Looking at him now, I realized the man I loved was dead. All that remained was a man playing a role when it suited him. I took my time getting out of the car. I walked to the restrooms, washed my face, and rinsed out my mouth. As I walked out into the biting winter air, I spotted them huddled behind a vending machine, smoking and chatting. I stepped into the shadow of a pillar and listened. “I am so sorry, guys,” Carter was saying, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my wife did something so revolting. You guys didn’t deserve that.” Derek took a drag of his cigarette. “Pregnant women are a nightmare, man. The mood swings, the throwing up on command… I don’t know how you put up with it.” Hailey stepped closer to Carter, her voice low and conspiring. “She’s only acting like this because you let her get away with it, Carter. You spoil her too much. You need to set boundaries. Show her you won’t be manipulated.” Carter nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right, Hailey. I’ve been too soft on her. But how do I fix it?” “Before she comes out of the bathroom, let’s move the car,” Hailey suggested, her eyes gleaming. “We’ll park it behind the building where she can’t see it. Let her panic for a bit. When she calls you crying and begging for you to come back, then you show up. It’ll put her right back in her place.” “That’s brilliant. Let’s go do it now.” I stood in the shadows, watching them hurry away to move the SUV. A freezing laugh escaped my lips. Beg? They were delusional. I waited until I heard the engine start and saw the SUV pull around the back of the Starbucks. Then, I pulled my coat tight around myself, walked straight across the parking lot, and climbed into the back of the black sedan waiting near the exit. “Tara, sweetheart! How are you feeling?” My mother turned from the front seat, her face etched with deep concern. The dam broke. I collapsed forward, burying my face in her shoulder, and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe. As my dad pulled onto the highway, I poured out everything. Every insult, the smoke, the plotting. My parents were livid. My dad gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, cursing Carter’s name. “Mom. Dad. I’m divorcing him.” My mom stroked my hair, tears in her own eyes. “Okay, baby. We support you. You come home, and we’ll help you raise this baby. You’ll never be alone.” I shook my head, my hands resting on my slightly rounded stomach. “No. I’m not keeping it. I am not bringing Carter’s child into this world.” A heavy silence filled the car. My parents exchanged a heartbroken look in the rearview mirror. Finally, my dad nodded. “Whatever you need, Tara. It’s your body. It’s your life.” Perhaps the emotional whiplash was too much, or the stress had finally broken my body. As we approached the toll booth, a searing cramp tore through my abdomen. A warm rush of fluid soaked my jeans. “Mom! Dad! It hurts!” I screamed, clutching my stomach. The world tilted, fading to black, and I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at the harsh, fluorescent ceiling tiles of a hospital room.

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Ever since the divorce, my mother had become a stranger. For three agonizing months, she had been playing a relentless, twisted game, putting my love for her through one bizarre stress test after another. The first time, she faked food poisoning during my lunch period, sending me into a blind panic just to drag me home. The second time, right in the middle of gym class, she called sobbing, claiming she’d been mugged and beaten on the street. And this time—right in the middle of my AP Calculus midterm—she claimed she’d been in a horrific car crash. She told me she was hanging by a thread. I sprinted through the pouring rain, my lungs burning, running through every catastrophic scenario in my head. But when I finally threw open the front door, gasping for air, I found her sitting on the sofa, popping fresh cherries into her mouth and binge-watching a Netflix show. I stood there, my face drained of color, my lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. “So. Your legs aren’t crushed after all.” 1 The hand lifting a cherry to her mouth froze. Instantly, her face twisted into a mask of pure indignation. “What kind of nonsense is that? Why would my legs be crushed? I’m warning you, Harper, don’t you dare curse me!” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me, shouting, but then she paused, taking in the sight of my mud-splattered clothes and dripping hair. “Why do you look like a drowned rat? You didn’t even bring an umbrella.” Then, she gasped. “You got my soup all wet!” She snatched the plastic takeout container of butternut squash soup from my trembling hands, her face etched with exaggerated heartache, muttering a string of complaints about my carelessness. I stood rooted to the spot. Frozen. After a long moment, I forced the words past the lump in my throat. “Mom. I walked out of my midterm for this. I ran the whole way. Why…” Why would you lie to me? For a fraction of a second, a flicker of guilt crossed her eyes. But it vanished just as quickly. When she looked back up, she was the victim. She slammed the container of soup onto the hardwood floor. It burst open, orange liquid splattering everywhere. “What’s more important? Your little test, or me?” “Do you have any idea how much that hurts? Now I’m so upset I’m going to skip dinner entirely! If I get an ulcer from starving, it’ll be your fault!” “You just don’t care about me enough! If your father were still here, he’d never treat me like this!” As she screamed at me, the phantom text began to materialize in the air in front of me again, scrolling like a live-stream chat only I could see. [She just loves you too much. She’s terrified of losing you. Look at her hands shaking—go hug her and apologize.] [It’s not easy being a single mom. Even if you’re hurting, she’s hurting more. If your dad hadn’t cheated and left, she wouldn’t have to carry this burden all alone.] I collapsed to the floor, my knees hitting the wet wood, and sobbed uncontrollably. Even the simple luxury of getting angry had been stolen from me. My parents’ marriage had shattered without warning. I had spent my sophomore year living at a boarding school, and the weekend I came back, my dad abruptly packed his bags. I still didn’t understand the logistics of what had happened. All I knew was my mother shoving me toward the door, hitting my back over and over, begging me to be the one to fix it. “You’re his daughter!” she had shrieked. “He won’t abandon you! Go stop him!” So I cried. I begged. I wrapped my arms around his waist. It didn’t work. Right before he walked out, he knelt down and looked me in the eye. “Harper, I can’t do this with your mother anymore. It’s not a sudden choice. I’ve wanted to leave for years.” That night, my mother held me, weeping until she was hoarse. “He doesn’t want us anymore. It’s just you and me now, Harper, do you hear me? He let some homewrecker sink her claws into him, and he threw us away.” “You’re all I have left!” From that day on, I became my mother’s new husband. I was required, hour by hour, day by day, to patch up her bottomless insecurities with a suffocating, breathless brand of love. Today was the final day of midterms. Halfway through the test, Mr. Harrison had pulled me into the hallway. “Harper, your mother called. She said she was in a terrible pile-up on the North Bridge… she said it’s life or death. Her legs are broken. You need to go, right now!” I hadn’t even stopped to think. I grabbed my hall pass and ran. By the time I reached the bridge, sweating and hyperventilating, there was no sign of her. No ambulances. No shattered glass. Nothing. Dizzy and disoriented, I dialed her number with shaking fingers. Over the line, her voice came out muffled and childishly stubborn. “Harper, I want butternut squash soup from that place downtown. Go get it, or I’m not telling you what hospital I’m at.” The woman had scoffed, playing hard to get. I had scrounged the last crumpled five-dollar bill from my backpack, ran another two miles, and finally bought the soup. When I called her back, she casually laughed and said she was just at home. These were her obedience tests. They wrapped around my throat like ivy, tightening every day. And she loved every second of it. Whenever a spark of rebellion flared in my chest, those floating phantom comments would appear, flashing across my vision, condemning me for being an ungrateful, unfilial daughter. 2 Because of the freezing rain, I caught a fever and was forced to stay in bed for days. When I finally dragged myself back to school, the damage was done. My rank had plummeted from valedictorian track down to fifteenth in the class. My spot in the National Honor Society was gone. At the Parent-Teacher Conference that evening, my mother sat in stony silence, gripping my hand so hard her nails dug into my knuckles. I thought the worst was over. But just as the conference was winding down, she stood up abruptly. She glared at my homeroom teacher. “Mr. Harrison, I think Harper’s drop in grades has a lot to do with you!” Mr. Harrison blinked, totally caught off guard. I froze in my seat. My mother triumphantly pulled a crumpled pink envelope from her designer purse. Her voice went up an octave, piercing through the quiet classroom. “Did you seriously not know? There’s some degenerate boy in this class sexually harassing my Harper!” The room went dead silent. Every single pair of eyes snapped toward that pink envelope in her hand. My face burned with the heat of a thousand suns. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. I had never seen that letter in my life. I had no idea where she found it! But her little stunt was practically a public execution. I gripped the hem of my school uniform, my own fingernails biting into my palms. A few parents in the front row started whispering. Someone discreetly held up a phone to record. I caught snippets of the venomous murmurs: “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. That girl doesn’t look innocent either.” And: “That whole family is a mess. I know her—ever since her husband dumped her, she’s been totally unhinged…” My chest tightened painfully. I grabbed my mother’s arm, my voice dropping to a desperate, pathetic whisper. “Please. Can we just go home and talk about this?” “Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding.” “A misunderstanding?!” she shrieked. “You bombed your midterms because you’re too busy whoring around with boys! You’re just a teenager, Harper! Have you no shame?!” “Is this how you repay everything I’ve done for you?” She paused to take a ragged breath, then went in for the kill. “Do you know I bragged to the whole family about you? I bet them all you’d be number one again!” “But no, you’re just worthless! You’re exactly like your cheating, garbage father!” “Go on, then! Go sleep around! Let’s see who takes care of you when you end up knocked up!” The blood in my veins turned to ice. Her voice echoed off the cinderblock walls, every single word plunging into my chest like a serrated knife. My hand went limp and fell from her arm. Tears pooled in my eyes, refusing to fall. The murmurs grew louder. Someone in the back actually scoffed. I stood there for a long time. Just breathing. Then, I slowly lifted my head. “But Mom… didn’t I fail those tests because of you?” 3 Mr. Harrison stood awkwardly at the podium, looking entirely out of his depth. He tried to run interference. “Harper has always been a stellar student. Her grades only slipped because she had to walk out of her final exam. It was an emergency absence. That’s why her rank dropped.” “Mrs. Davis, I think you’re really misunderstanding the situation.” My mother scoffed loudly. “At the end of the day, she’s just a failure. How come those kids on the news can miss an exam and still get into the Ivy League?” The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I couldn’t take it anymore. The urge to flee was overwhelming. I turned toward the door. She blocked my path, her eyes cold and hard. “If you walk out that door, you are no longer my daughter.” “I yell at you a little bit and you throw a tantrum? Who do you think you are?” The phantom comments flickered to life in my peripheral vision: [Just apologize to her! Your mom is harsh, but she means well.] [No matter what your mom does, you can’t talk back to her. She’s your mother.] [There’s no such thing as holding a grudge against your own family. Say you’re sorry!] Oh, please. I let out a dry, bitter laugh. Right in front of everyone, I walked out. I didn’t look back once. That night, I didn’t go home. I sat by the concrete pylons of the North Bridge until the sun came up. For some inexplicable reason, I missed my dad. I just wanted to crawl into his lap like I did when I was a little kid and pour out every single grievance I had. But my mother had spent the last year drilling it into my head: He was the villain. If he hadn’t abandoned us, none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t have lost her mind, and I wouldn’t have been subjected to this daily psychological torture. Yet, looking back, it was only ever my dad who had protected me unconditionally. He was the only one who made sure I wasn’t bullied. He was the one who hid birthday presents for me weeks in advance. The day he left, he looked so thin. His coat hung loosely on his shoulders. His footsteps had been so quiet. Exhausted, I curled up against the concrete wall and fell asleep. When I woke up, my phone screen was lit with a text from my mother. [Since you think you’re so tough, I’m cutting you off. Not another dime.] [Let’s see how long you can survive with that attitude.] Living without money was hell. I couldn’t afford meals. I couldn’t sleep. My phone service was disconnected. My cafeteria card was zeroed out. I couldn’t even pay the homeroom club fees. I found myself hoarding quarters just to buy a bottle of water. When the hunger pangs made the world spin, I would stand outside the school cafeteria, swallowing dryly as I smelled the hot food. Left with no other choice, I swallowed the last shred of my pride and started walking down the commercial strip, begging shop owners to hire me. I don’t know how far I walked before I stopped outside a brightly lit storefront: Lotus Day Spa. There was a handwritten sign taped to the glass: Nail Techs & Massage Therapists Wanted. Room & Board Negotiable. I clutched the crumpled sixty dollars I had left in my jacket pocket. Raindrops dripped from my bangs onto the glass door, smudging the neon reflection. I walked in and asked the manager, “Are you hiring part-time?” She clicked her tongue, looking me up and down. “You eighteen?” I nodded frantically. “Hundred bucks a day, under the table. Plus tips. Can you work weekends?” “Yes!” The job was simple, though physically grueling. I soaked feet, scrubbed calluses, and gave deep-tissue foot massages. I was terrified and humiliated. I lived in constant fear of a classmate walking in and starting rumors, yet I was overwhelmingly grateful just to have a job that let me buy food. I ate little, meticulously rationing my grocery budget each week. The money I made was enough to keep me afloat, with a little left over. Until one afternoon, a familiar customer walked through the door. It was my mother. 4 I was wearing a surgical mask, so she didn’t recognize me right away. She and a friend were lounging in the plush pedicure chairs, chatting away while their feet soaked. “Are you really going to just let the kid starve?” her friend asked. “She’s your own flesh and blood. What if something happens to her at school?” My mother scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “That little ungrateful brat is useless. Her heart isn’t even with me anyway.” “This time, I’m going to teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.” She leaned her head back against the leather headrest, closing her eyes. “A while ago, I bet the family she’d be top of her class. I told them if she didn’t get first place, I’d marry her off to my cousin’s slow-witted son. And then look what she did to her grades.” “If that idiot boy actually shows up at her door, it’s her own fault. I’m certainly not paying for her college tuition anymore.” My hand froze in mid-air. The glass bottle of eucalyptus oil nearly slipped from my fingers. I barely caught it, my entire body trembling. I kept my head down, staring at the tiled floor. My mother kept talking. “Her dad called again the other day. He wants custody. Do you know what I told him?” “I told him Harper wishes he were dead. When he heard his own daughter said that about him, you should have heard the silence on the line. It felt so damn good. That’s what he gets for divorcing me! Claiming he ‘couldn’t do it anymore’!” “The more he wants Harper, the more I’m going to make her life miserable! And I’ll make sure he sees every second of it!” I bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted copper. A loud, rushing noise filled my ears. “God, that poor girl must absolutely despise her father by now,” her friend muttered. My mother’s smug, triumphant laugh grated against my nerves like a rusted blade. I took a shaky breath. The room tilted. I couldn’t laugh. I couldn’t breathe. Tears completely blurred my vision. So my dad hadn’t abandoned me? He had been trying to find me this whole time? The glass bottle slipped. It shattered against the tile floor, shards of glass and sharp eucalyptus oil exploding outward. The woman finally leaned forward, peering at my face over the mask. Her expression twisted in horror. She practically leaped out of the chair. “What are you doing here?!” Her friend looked confused. “Who is this?” My mother stammered, a panicked, awkward laugh escaping her lips. “No—no one. Just my cleaning lady’s daughter.” I stayed completely silent. Then, a hollow, broken laugh spilled out of my chest. My mother looked frantic. After quickly ushering her friend out to the lobby with some excuse, she spun back to me, her eyes ablaze with sheer rage. “Just how desperate for cash are you to end up working in a sleazy joint like this?!” I pressed my lips together and looked her dead in the eye. “You cut me off. Did you forget?” That made her even angrier. She grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the front counter to scream at the manager. She kicked over a stack of magazines and knocked a display of lotions off a shelf. She caused an absolute scene. “Who hired her?! Do you realize she’s a minor? You people are basically running a brothel, forcing young girls to sell their bodies!” The manager was terrified. She tried to placate my mother. “Ma’am, please lower your voice. Let’s go to the back office and talk about this.” My mother refused. She screamed, “You run a filthy business and you’re scared of a little noise?! I’m going to let everyone in this town know you’re exploiting children!” The manager lost her patience. “Look, lady! The kid begged me for a job! Don’t come in here throwing around accusations like that!” My mother’s face turned purple. “Harper Davis, you are a shameless little tramp! Do you have any dignity left?! How could you beg for a job washing strangers’ feet?! All the money I spent on your education, completely wasted!” Oh, right. When you haven’t eaten a full meal in three days, dignity is the last thing on your mind. A wave of severe dizziness hit me. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs. It hurt to breathe. A crowd had gathered outside the large glass windows. I even spotted a girl from my AP History class standing on the sidewalk, whispering to her friends, a malicious smirk playing on her lips. When our eyes met, I went entirely numb. As my mother continued her self-righteous tirade, spitting venom in my direction, a dark, radical thought bloomed in my mind. The next second, I turned and sprinted straight out the door, aiming directly for the busy street outside. My mother screamed in terror. “Harper! What the hell is wrong with you?! Get back here!” “You think you can threaten me with this?! It won’t work!” The manager was tearing her hair out in a panic. “Ma’am, just stop screaming at her!” “Harper, sweetie, come back inside! We can talk this out!” SCREECH— CRASH! As I turned my head, an immense, crushing force slammed into my side. The sky flipped upside down. I hit the asphalt, my vision tinting red as blood pooled around me. Through the haze, I saw my mother standing on the sidewalk. Her face was frozen in a mask of absolute, unadulterated horror. Her eyes were blown wide, unable to process what she was seeing. And as my consciousness began to slip away, I saw the man jumping out of the silver sedan that had slammed its brakes. It was my dad.

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The day Harrison cheated, I used the Swiss Army knife he’d bought me for our anniversary to carve a permanent memory into my stepsister’s face. Once I was behind bars, our marriage dissolved automatically. He finally gave her what she wanted: the kind of lavish, white-lace wedding that makes the front page of the society kits. Three years later, I was paroled. Harrison went into a frenzy. He hired twenty bodyguards to form a human wall around her. He laid fifty legal traps, desperate to send me back to a cell. He even sent a hundred different intermediaries to tell me I could name my price—any amount of money, any property—as long as I stayed away from Jade. He was overthinking it. I didn’t want his money, and I certainly didn’t want his wife’s life. I simply stepped out of the prison gates and vanished into the city like a single drop of rain falling into the Atlantic. We met again at my auto shop. I spat out the toothpick I’d been chewing on, wiped my grease-stained fingers on a rag, and popped the hood of his car. I didn’t look at him as I asked, “How long have you had this?” I heard him grind his teeth. The sound was sharp, brittle. “Maya,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “This car was the first gift you ever gave me.” 1 My hand, poised with a wrench, went still for a heartbeat. “Oh. Then it’s been a while,” I said, my voice flat. “Probably needs a complete overhaul.” I was too calm. I could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes, the way his mouth worked as if he had a dozen things to say but couldn’t find the breath for any of them. I went back to work, tapping each bolt, checking the tension with a clinical precision. To me, this gleaming yellow Ferrari was no different from the thousands of beat-up sedans I’d salvaged over the last few years. Perhaps the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal got to him. Harrison’s expression shifted from shock to a twisted, mocking smirk. “Maya, if you’re broke, you could have just called. You didn’t need to scatter nails on the road just to lure me to this hellhole so you could put on a show.” I gave him a small, professional smile, the kind I gave to any difficult customer. “If I were an actress, Harrison, I’d be in Hollywood, not under a chassis. You came from the East Side, right? The news reported a spill from a hardware truck over there this morning. You should be more careful.” I picked up a rag to wipe the black oil from my knuckles. He stared at it—it was a faded pink towel, frayed at the edges, bleached nearly white from too many washes. Something in him snapped. “You used to be like a swan, Maya,” he said, his voice rising. “Claustrophobia, OCD, a germaphobia that bordered on pathological. You were the quintessential heiress. You’d spend ten minutes wiping a speck of dust off your Louboutins. You once fired a maid on the spot because there was a single grease spot on the dining table…” “Now look at you—” “Hey, Maya! Can you take a look at my AC? It’s blowing nothing but hot air!” The shop door groaned open, letting in the humid afternoon air and a boisterous woman in a loud floral shirt. She tossed her keys onto my workbench. “Sure thing, Mrs. Gable. Leave it with me. It’s probably just a refrigerant leak. Easy fix.” “You’re a lifesaver,” she said, patting my shoulder with a meaty hand. She glanced at Harrison, then leaned in, whispering loudly, “Oh, you’ve got a fancy client? I’ll let you get back to it. Catch you later.” Once she was gone, I turned back to Harrison with a polite, distant smile. “Mr. Sterling, your car is ready. That’ll be twenty dollars for the tire plug.” “You…” He stared at me, looking as if I’d slapped him. He fumbled for his phone, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulled up his payment app. A notification chirped. I looked at the screen. He’d sent five hundred. “Mr. Sterling, you overpaid. Let me send the change back.” I instinctively went to look for his contact info, then remembered. He’d blocked me the day I was sentenced. I rubbed the back of my neck. “Well, this is awkward. Could you show me your QR code?” “Didn’t you say… the car needs an overhaul?” Harrison’s eyes were dark, unreadable. “Check the rest of the components. Is five hundred enough?” I shrugged. “More than enough. Have a seat.” I dragged a small, plastic stool over and pushed it toward him. Looking at his bespoke suit, I felt a twinge of pity and laid a relatively clean rag over the seat. Harrison sat down slowly, his movements stiff and elegant, his hands resting on his knees like he was at a board meeting in a junkyard. The door creaked again. “Maya, lunch is here! Business looks good today—I saw you ordered the double protein special.” It was the delivery guy, a kid from the neighborhood I’d known since he was in diapers. I traded a few jokes with him as I took the plastic container. Harrison winced at the term “fancy client,” looking away and letting out a long, slow breath. He couldn’t help it. This world was loud. Penny from the nail salon next door popped in to ask about dinner. A young professional from the apartments upstairs dropped off a suitcase for me to hold until she got off work. A college girl ran in to borrow a portable charger. They all looked at Harrison—some with curiosity, some with blatant interest—but he just sat there, looking increasingly out of place. Finally, he shifted his legs, his voice tight. “Maya, is this what you’ve become? Rotting away in the gutter with… these people?” 2 His eyes looked slightly bloodshot. Or maybe it was just my own vision playing tricks on me. Three years of staring at industrial sewing machines in a dim prison workshop tends to tint your world in shades of red. “The car is fine,” I said, straightening up and wiping sweat from my brow with my elbow. “Brake pads are a bit thin. You should get them replaced soon, but I don’t keep OEM parts for Ferraris here. You’ll have to go to a dealership.” I pointed him toward the nearest authorized service center and started opening my lunch. Curry chicken, spicy peppers, stir-fried greens—the cheap, oily comfort food of the working class. Harrison didn’t leave. I paused, my chopsticks mid-air, and pushed the container slightly toward him. “Are you hungry, Mr. Sterling? It’s not five-star, but it’s filling.” His gaze drifted from the black grease under my fingernails to the glistening, sodium-heavy food. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “This is processed garbage, Maya. It’s not healthy. You… you never used to touch this stuff.” In his memory, I was a delicate creature. I was the girl who picked at organic salads and sashimi. If a meal wasn’t perfectly fresh, I’d spend the night curled over a toilet. I chuckled. “The prison diet cures you of a lot of ‘delicate’ habits. And when you’re doing manual labor all day, you need the calories. This place makes the best spicy chicken in the zip code. You should try it. Oh, look—they gave me an extra packet of chili oil today. Score.” I tucked the extra packet into a small organizer bin behind me. It was full of condiment packets, sugar stirrers, and plastic cutlery. The hoard of someone who knew what it was like to have nothing. Harrison stood up abruptly. “Enough!” I flinched, startled by the sudden boom of his voice. He pulled a black card from his wallet and threw it onto the workbench. “This is a supplementary card to my platinum account. Take it.” He moved so fast he knocked over the plastic stool and nearly sent my lunch flying. I lunged, barely catching the container before it hit the floor. “Mr. Sterling,” I said, a bit tired. “If you’re not going to eat, please don’t ruin my meal.” “Maya!” he hissed, his voice trembling with a desperate kind of rage. “I’m serious! There’s a five-million-dollar limit. Use it. Buy a decent storefront. Start a real business. Be a boss again. Don’t stay in this hole being a filthy mechanic!” “You were a world-class skier, for God’s sake! Have you forgotten who you are?” His shout echoed in the small shop, dragging me back into the cold, crisp air of my past. My family had been one of the biggest investment names in the city. I was an only child until I was seven, when my mother found out she was pregnant with twins. But while we were celebrating the arrival of my sisters, my father was celebrating his affair with a B-list actress named Evelyn. Evelyn wasn’t content with being a secret. She showed up at our house, demanding my mother step aside. My mother was a woman of fire; the argument turned into a struggle. I stood at the top of the stairs and watched as Evelyn, with her long, manicured red nails digging into my mother’s throat, pushed her. One fall. Three lives gone. To protect his new lover, my father locked me in a room for twenty-four hours, beating me until I agreed to change my statement. Evelyn walked free. They married, and she brought her daughter from a previous marriage—Jade. That was the beginning of the nightmare. The bruises, the psychological warfare, the constant “accidents.” I eventually fled to Switzerland, pouring all my pain into the snow. I became a champion. That was where I met Harrison. He was at a prestigious business school nearby. He saw me on a broadcast once and became an obsessive fan. He was at every finish line, screaming my name. When a judge tried to cheat me out of a medal, he organized a protest that shut down the street. He was there for the injuries. He was there for the lows. And when I finally took the gold, I didn’t care about the cameras. I unstrapped my skis and ran straight into his arms. We became the “it” couple of the international circuit. But the night of my victory, as we walked through the cobblestone streets of Zurich, two armed men jumped us. They wanted our watches, our money. Harrison stepped in front of me to fight them off. I was terrified—I couldn’t let him get hurt. I charged in to help him. In the chaos, a shot rang out. The bullet didn’t kill me. But it tore through my lung and grazed my heart. My career was over. I could never compete again. I could barely run a block without gasping for air. But I didn’t regret it. Harrison was my world. I could win a hundred gold medals, but I only had one Harrison. When I lay in that hospital bed, clutching his hand, I told him that. He cried into my chest, promising me the world. “Maya, let’s go home,” he’d whispered. “My family has connections in every sector. Whatever you want to do, I’ll make it happen.” Harrison was a man of action, not words. I believed him. We flew back to the States together. And there, waiting at the gate, was Jade. When she saw the heir to the Sterling fortune standing next to me, her eyes widened for a split second before she masked it with a brilliant, predatory smile. She looked exactly like her mother had when she stood next to my father. My stomach dropped. And soon, my nightmare came full circle. 3 It started slowly. Harrison began mentioning Jade’s name in every conversation. At first, she was “sweet and misunderstood.” Then, she was “a victim of her circumstances.” Eventually, it became: “Maya, why do you have to be so hard on her?” I wanted to sit him down, to talk it out, but it was the anniversary of my mother’s death. I was buried in grief and the rituals of remembrance. When I came home from the cemetery, I walked into a scene I will never forget as long as I live. There they were. Harrison and Jade. Naked on our Egyptian cotton sheets, tangled in each other. “Oh, Harrison,” Jade had giggled, her voice like sugar and glass. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the cemetery with your future mother-in-law?” “Which one?” Harrison grunted. “A woman from the sticks isn’t a mother-in-law. If I’m picking a family, I’m picking yours…” The world turned white. I lost my mind. I grabbed the knife from the nightstand—the one he’d given me for ‘protection’—and I went for her. The sound of her scream when the blade met her skin… honestly, it was the most beautiful thing I’d heard in years. At the trial, the judge considered the provocation. He was leaning toward a suspended sentence. But Harrison hired the most ruthless legal team in the country. He bribed witnesses to say I’d planned it for weeks. He made sure I got three years of hard time. Seven years had passed since that day. I took a deep breath and looked at Harrison. Money is a wonderful preservative; time hadn’t left a single mark on him. He was as handsome as ever. Meanwhile, I had cracked skin, hair chopped short for convenience, and grease that had permanently settled into the creases of my palms. I pushed the black card back across the bench. “I don’t want it, Mr. Sterling. I’m doing fine.” “I have a roof over my head. I’m free. I earn my own keep. I’m a simple woman now—no great riches, but no great tragedies either.” Harrison’s hand stayed on the card. “Just… take it as compensation. Once you take the money, the debt is settled. We don’t owe each other anything.” I looked at him, genuinely surprised. The arrogant Harrison Sterling was actually trying to offer an olive branch. He used to be a man who never apologized, never looked back. “There is no debt,” I said calmly. “I saved you because you were my boyfriend at the time. I went to jail because I committed a crime. We’re square.” Harrison clenched his jaw, staring at me as if trying to find the girl he used to know under the grime. Finally, his head dropped, and I saw his eyes shimmer. “Maya… you’re a stranger to me.” I checked the clock on the wall. “It’s been a long time. People change.” “That night… it was a moment of weakness,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “All these years, I’ve thought… if you hadn’t reacted so violently, if you’d just let me explain… I would have married you out of guilt. I would have treated you like a queen…” I didn’t say anything for a long time. The ticking of the clock filled the silence. “Everyone has their own path,” I said, unwrapping a lollipop and popping it into my mouth. “Don’t look back at things you can’t change.” “You—” Harrison was speechless, his frustration boiling over. “You haven’t changed one bit! Still as stubborn as a mule!” I nodded. “The neighbors say the same thing.” “Maya!” He shouted my name, the old nickname slipping out. It caught me off guard. The tone was exactly as it had been years ago. Seeing me falter, he softened his voice. “If you won’t take my money, let me talk to your father for you. You don’t know, do you? He has stage four pancreatic cancer. He doesn’t have much time left.” “If you go to him now, if you ask for his forgiveness, you could still get your inheritance. You’d never have to work another day in your life…” “Really?” I said, a genuine smile touching my lips. “So karma finally caught up with him. That’s good news.” Harrison snapped. He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me toward his car. “Maya, stop this! Look at yourself! Look at this life! You’re living in a shack, doing back-breaking work! You’re eating garbage and getting excited over a free packet of sauce! Do you think this makes you look strong? It makes you look pathetic! You’re a bottom-tier mechanic, and that’s all you’ll ever be!” I looked down at myself—the stained coveralls, the messy ponytail, the smudge of dirt on my cheek. “It’s not so bad. At least I still have my own face. Unlike some people.” Harrison jumped back as if I’d burned him, his face flushing deep red. “Jade has had the surgeries! She’s fully recovered! There’s a scar, yes, but makeup covers it! And you—you smell like motor oil and your hands feel like sandpaper! No man is ever going to want you!” In his heat, he swung his Hermès bag around, nearly hitting me. The door creaked open again. Two small children, a boy and a girl, came charging in like little rockets.

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On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, I waited for Carter at City Hall for four hours. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t show. When I texted him, demanding to know where he was, his response came through as a blistering barrage of venom: “Who the hell do you think you are, keeping tabs on me?” “My patience has a limit, Tina. If you don’t drop this right now, we are done!” I was in a daze when I stepped off the curb. I never even saw the drunk driver speeding through the red light. As the paramedics rushed my stretcher through the chaotic ER doors to treat my injuries, my eyes caught a familiar silhouette. It was Carter. He was half-kneeling on the linoleum floor, gently holding Mia’s hand as he pressed a small Band-Aid to her knuckle. His voice was a soft, reverent murmur. “Thank God it’s just a scrape. It won’t scar.” I tore my eyes away. With a chilling, hollow calm, I pulled out my phone and dialed my boss. “I’ll take it,” I said, the words tasting like ash. “I’ll take the transfer to head the foreign trade division in the London office.” 1 “That is fantastic news, Tina. With your fluency in four languages, having you anchor things in London is a massive relief.” The moment I hung up, the ER doctor began his examination. A few minutes later, his brow furrowed. “The muscle tear in your calf is manageable,” he said gently, “but there are clear signs of a miscarriage. I strongly recommend we proceed with a D&C surgery immediately.” My whole body went rigid. A baby? Seeing the sheer terror on my face, the doctor’s expression softened into pity. “You didn’t know you were pregnant?” A single tear hot-tracked down my cheek. I gave a numb, trembling nod. He offered a heavy sigh and a few gentle words of comfort I couldn’t process. I took his advice. My leg required twelve stitches, and that same afternoon, I underwent the surgical abortion. By the time I limped back into our apartment that evening, Carter was slouched on the sofa, bathed in the blue glow of his phone. A dopey, irrepressible smile played on his lips. I didn’t have to guess; he was texting Mia. He didn’t even bother to look up when the door clicked shut. “Where have you been? It’s late.” I told him the truth. I told him how I left City Hall, got hit by a car, needed twelve stitches, and had to have a minor surgery. Not a single muscle twitched in his jaw. No flicker of concern. He just gave a distracted grunt of acknowledgment and kept his eyes glued to his screen. I knew it then. He hadn’t heard a single word I’d said. Tears prickled like crushed glass in my eyes. It felt as though someone had taken a hunting knife to my chest, twisted it, and then plugged the wound so the blood couldn’t escape. The pressure was suffocating. “Well, don’t just stand there,” he muttered. “Go make dinner. I’m starving.” I balled my hands into fists, my fingernails biting into my palms until my knuckles turned a stark, bloodless white. It was the only way to keep the tears from falling. I didn’t have the energy to scream at him anymore. “I already ate. Order Postmates.” I dragged my bad leg toward the bedroom. Suddenly, Carter’s hand clamped down on my wrist like a vice. For the first time all night, he actually looked at me. “Are you seriously still throwing a tantrum because I forgot your birthday?” he demanded. “It was weeks ago, Tina. Are you really going to be this petty?” A pale, broken smile stretched across my face. “You’re right. It is petty. Which is why I won’t be sweating the small stuff anymore. You don’t need to worry about me. You just focus on playing nurse to your fragile little assistant.” I wrenched my arm out of his grasp and took a step forward. “What has Mia ever done to you?” he barked, stepping into my path. “Why do you have to be such a bitch to a young girl who looks up to you? Have you lost your damn mind?” “How many times do I have to tell you that she and I are strictly professional? Tina, I didn’t tell you you could walk away!” He shoved me. Hard. Off-balance and favoring my torn muscle, I crashed heavily to the hardwood floor. The sudden, violent bend of my knee ripped the new stitches open. Hot blood instantly soaked through the pristine white gauze, blossoming into a dark stain on my light jeans. My purse hit the floor, spilling its contents. My passport and my birth certificate—the documents I’d carefully gathered for City Hall—scattered across the rug. Carter’s eyes went wide. It was as if the sight of the documents finally jolted his memory. He had promised we’d get our marriage license today. Panic flashed across his face. He scrambled to help me up, dragging me onto the sofa. His tone instantly shifted, softening into damage control. “How did you get hurt?” he stammered. “Look, I had a massive crisis to handle at work today, that’s why I missed City Hall. We’ll just go tomorrow.” A massive crisis. A scraped knuckle on Mia’s hand was a massive crisis. Deep in my pelvis, the fresh trauma of the D&C began to throb—a vicious, hollow cramping. I curled my arms around my stomach. My body was in agony, but my heart was utterly decimated. A sheen of cold sweat broke out across my forehead. “Tomorrow is Saturday,” I whispered. “City Hall is closed.” Carter stared at me, flustered and entirely out of his depth. “Carter,” I breathed out. “Can you just get me a glass of hot water?” “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” He sprang up like a man pardoned from death row, grabbing my mug to head to the kitchen. But just then, his phone chimed. He glanced at the screen. Instinctively, he set the mug back down. The corners of his mouth tilted up into that familiar, sickening smile. He was entirely consumed. He turned, walked into the guest bedroom, shut the door behind him, and never came back out. I curled into a tight ball on the sofa, the taste of bitter ash coating the back of my tongue. 2 For my birthday last month, Carter had promised to drive upstate with me to see my parents and officially ask for my hand. My parents had been over the moon. They’d spent days preparing. They woke up at dawn, went to the farmer’s market, scrubbed the house from top to bottom, and cooked a massive, beautiful feast to welcome him. The food grew cold. I couldn’t reach him. I had cried out of sheer humiliation, but my parents—always so gentle—just patted my back and made excuses for him, assuming he was caught up in an emergency. Later that night, I found his “emergency” on Mia’s Instagram story. He had vanished all day to take her to a pier carnival to watch the fireworks. When I finally confronted him, screaming until my throat was raw, asking how he could humiliate my parents like that, he had just looked at me with cold detachment. He called me a lunatic. “Dinner is just dinner. You can eat anytime. The fireworks were a one-night-only event,” he had reasoned, perfectly calm. “Besides, your parents would have cooked anyway. Stop being so dramatic.” After a week of icy silence between us, he declared that today was an “auspicious date” and told me to get dressed for City Hall. I knew it was his twisted version of an olive branch. And because we had survived the trenches of our twenties together, building a life for eight years just to finally reach the altar, I had spinelessly agreed. Usually, I was the one to break first after a fight. This time, because he had disrespected my parents, I held out for a week. Because I loved him, I had compromised. Again and again. I had drawn lines in the sand, only to let the tide wash them away the moment he smiled at me. I had inadvertently taught him that there were absolutely no consequences for hurting me. Our relationship had degraded from a partnership of mutual respect into a psychological game where he held all the cards. A slap in the face followed by a piece of candy. He had me entirely under his thumb. And then came Mia. It was as if she had a sixth sense. Whenever I needed Carter, she would miraculously face a crisis, cleanly extracting him from my life. Just like today. I had sat there clutching my passport, watching the numbers on the screen tick by for four agonizing hours. He was “handling an emergency.” In reality, he was escorting her to a clinic for a Band-Aid. It was almost poetic in its cruelty. But the well of my disappointment had finally run dry. The moment corporate processed my visa for London, I was a ghost. The next morning, Carter emerged from the guest room and tossed a small, velvet-wrapped box into my lap. “Consider it compensation for missing yesterday.” I popped the lid. Resting on the silk was the new limited-edition Bulgari necklace. I had been obsessed with it, dropping hints for months that I wanted it for my birthday. But before I could speak, he sneered, “It’s such a gaudy piece anyway. Honestly, even if you wear it, people are just going to assume it’s a fake.” The insult hit me like a physical blow. But then, the pieces clicked together. I had seen that exact necklace resting against Mia’s collarbone in her latest post. I weighed the pendant in my palm. The metal felt just slightly off. It was a replica. A high-tier knockoff. In his eyes, I simply wasn’t worth the real thing. In that split second, I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel the familiar sting of betrayal or the urge to weep. Instead, a profound, sweeping clarity washed over me. It was the liberating relief of sunlight breaking through a long, suffocating storm. I carelessly tossed the box onto the corner of the sofa. Carter’s brow pinched in irritation. I didn’t make his customary Sunday breakfast. Instead, I ordered a heavy delivery brunch for one, and a pharmacy drop-off of medical supplies. When the food arrived, Carter scowled. “Delivery again? I told you to stop eating that garbage. It’s loaded with sodium.” I ignored him. My abdominal cramps had been blinding last night, leaving me completely unable to tend to my ruptured stitches. I dry-swallowed a heavy painkiller and waited for the edge to blunt. The blood-soaked gauze had dried and adhered to my skin. As I slowly peeled it back, I had to gasp for air through my teeth to ride out the searing pain. Carter caught a glimpse and slammed his coffee mug down. “Jesus, Tina, I’m trying to eat! That is repulsive. Can’t you do that in the bathroom?” I gritted my teeth and gave the gauze a final yank. Before I could formulate a response, an automated Siri voice chirped cheerfully from his phone on the counter: “Reminder: Mia’s menstrual cycle begins today.” I froze, lifting my eyes to meet his. A flash of genuine panic crossed his face. He quickly flipped his phone over, clearing his throat. “Don’t read into that. She got horrible cramps last month and ended up in the ER. I just wanted to track it so I could remind her to take it easy, so her work doesn’t suffer.” I stared at him in the heavy, suffocating silence. Finally, I asked, “Carter, we’ve been together for eight years. Do you have any idea when my period is?” He shot up from his stool, defensive and annoyed. “Are you seriously picking a fight over this? You’re tough as nails. Why would I need to track yours?” He waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. Make me a thermos of ginger tea before I leave.” 3 A memory unspooled in my mind. A torrential downpour last spring. He had promised to pick me up from work but never showed. I had walked to the subway, soaked to the bone. When I finally dragged myself into our lobby, shivering violently, I ran into him. He hadn’t picked me up because he was busy driving Mia home so she wouldn’t have to take a cab in the rain. I was on my period that day. The freezing rain had triggered debilitating cramps. I had begged him to run down to the pharmacy on the corner for ibuprofen. He had rolled his eyes, calling me dramatic. “It’s downstairs, Tina. The walk won’t kill you. I’m not your errand boy. I’m just grabbing a jacket, I have to head right back out.” He had slammed the door in my face. I found out later he was rushing out to catch a movie premiere with Mia. Good, I thought now. I’m glad you’re leaving. I don’t want to look at your face anyway. Fighting through the dull ache in my pelvis, I boiled a pot of ginger tea. I skimped on the honey but dumped in enough raw ginger to strip the enamel off his teeth. I hoped it burned that manipulative little bitch’s throat. The moment the front door clicked shut behind him, I pulled out a suitcase. I started packing my essentials, arranging for a courier to ship them directly to my company’s temporary corporate housing. Once I landed in London, my coworkers would forward the rest. By 11 AM, I had purged the apartment of my existence. Anything I couldn’t pack, I tossed into the building’s incinerator in two agonizing trips. My phone buzzed. It was Carter. He ordered me to whip up a massive lunch. He was having “the boys” over. A cold fury settled in my chest. “Carter, you know my leg is injured. I can barely walk. And even if I were fine, look at the time. The fridge is empty. What exactly do you expect me to serve them?” Silence hung on the line. Then, a heavy, condescending sigh. “Is there literally anything I can count on you for?” He hung up. I was zipping up my suitcase, ready to walk out forever, when he texted me a pin to an upscale hotel downtown. “Bring the two bottles of vintage Bordeaux from my wine fridge. Pick up some high-end snacks. Leave it all at the front desk.” I let out a long, shuddering breath. The hotel was on the way to my corporate housing. If I didn’t bring the wine, he would blow up my phone all day, and I just wanted a clean getaway. Assuming his friends had brought their kids, I stopped at a boutique grocer and bought a massive bag of imported snacks. When I reached the hotel lobby, another text lit up my screen: “Don’t leave it at the desk. Bring it up to the suite.” When I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the private dining room, the first thing I saw was Carter peeling a shrimp and feeding it directly into Mia’s mouth. The table, packed exclusively with young women, erupted into obnoxious squeals. “Oh my god, Carter is literally the sweetest! Peeling shrimp for you, Mia? We’re so jealous!” Behind Mia sat a mountain of designer shopping bags, jewelry boxes, and a massive, tiered birthday cake. It was Mia’s birthday party. The guests were all her friends and former interns. When Carter saw me standing there, a flicker of guilt crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by a dark scowl. “What are you doing inside? I told you to leave it at the desk.” Before I could answer, Mia gasped, pressing a manicured hand to her chest. “Oh, Carter, don’t be mad at her! It’s my fault. I texted her that I was craving snacks. You’re not mad at me, are you?” She blinked up at him, her eyes wide, glassy, and completely devoid of guilt. The ice in Carter’s expression melted instantly. He reached out, affectionately tapping her nose. “You little glutton.” As he turned away, Mia’s gaze flicked to me. A smug, triumphant smirk played on her lips. Carter waved a hand at me like I was the help. “You dropped it off. You can leave now.” I turned on my heel, but Mia’s sugary voice called out. “Wait, Tina!” She bounded over to me like a sprightly little bird, holding a porcelain plate with a massive slice of cake. “It’s my birthday! Have a bite of cake and wish me a happy birthday before you go.” I didn’t have the patience for her theater. “I’m busy. I’m leaving.” But she grabbed my elbow, her voice amplifying into a performative pout. “Are you refusing my cake, Tina? Or do you just not want to wish me well?” She turned back to the table. “Please, Tina, just make my birthday wish come true.” Carter stood up, puffing his chest out to defend her honor. “Tina, just eat the damn cake. Don’t ruin her day.” I stared at him, the chill in my veins turning to absolute ice. “Carter. You know I am severely allergic to buttercream.” He rolled his eyes. “A single bite isn’t going to kill you. You’re always saying you’re allergic, but no one’s ever seen you have a reaction. Who knows if you’re even telling the truth.” Mia leaned in, her voice dripping with honey. “He’s right, Tina. This is a custom cake Carter ordered specifically for me. You couldn’t buy this anywhere.” She didn’t break eye contact. Her expression was a taunt. She was daring me to fight back. Leaning closer, she whispered so only I could hear: “If we make a scene right now… who do you think he’ll side with?” 4 “Let go of me.” I tried to pull my arm away, but Mia’s grip was surprisingly tight. My patience snapped. “I said, let go! I don’t have time for your pathetic little games!” “Are you just scared of losing to me, Tina?” I yanked my arm back with force. This time, her grip slipped, and the porcelain plate tumbled from her hand. The garishly colored cake smashed directly onto her chest, sending globs of heavy buttercream splattering into her face and eyes. Mia shrieked, stumbling backward in a perfectly choreographed swoon. Carter lunged forward, catching her firmly by the waist before she hit the floor. Fat, crocodile tears began to spill down Mia’s cheeks. “I just… I just thought you were so lucky to have such an amazing boyfriend, Tina. I just wanted some of your good luck. Why are you screaming at me?” Carter’s face twisted into a mask of pure rage. “Tina, you are out of your goddamn mind! I knew bringing you up here was a mistake!” “Apologize to her! Right now!” I stared at him, my face completely deadpan. “Did you even see what happened, Carter? And you’re demanding I apologize to her?” He pulled a sobbing Mia tighter against his chest. “Do you think I’m blind?! I saw you push her! Mia is the sweetest girl in the world, you think she’d frame you? You’re just insanely jealous of her, so you came here to ruin her night!” Hearing those words, I realized I was looking at a total stranger. The man I had loved for eight years did not exist. The fight drained out of me, leaving only a bone-deep, exhausted apathy. I looked him dead in the eye and delivered the eulogy of our life together. “You’re not just blind, Carter. You’re hollow. You don’t deserve a fraction of the love I gave you. We are done.” I turned to walk out the door. He lunged, grabbing my arm in a brutal grip. “Done?” he hissed. “Fine. Apologize to Mia, and I’ll accept the breakup.” “Go to hell.” Shock flashed in his eyes, instantly swallowed by a terrifying, violent fury. “I’m giving you one last chance, Tina. You are going to apologize to her, and you are going to eat a slice of this cake, or you’re not leaving this room.” Tears of sheer rage blurred my vision. “I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m not apologizing to her! And who the fuck do you think you are, telling me whether I can leave?” I wrenched myself toward the door, but he yanked me backward with a terrifying amount of force. “Don’t make me do this the hard way!” The sudden torque sent a jagged, blinding spike of pain through the torn muscle in my leg. Running on pure adrenaline, I spun around, raised my hand, and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. “You’re a monster, Carter!” I had never embarrassed him in public. For eight years, I had been the perfectly compliant, supportive partner. I had been his loyal dog. His face flushed a violent, mottled red. He grabbed me by the throat, dragging me backward until the edge of the dining table dug into my spine. Pinning me down with one hand, he grabbed a fistful of cake from the table. “You need to learn your place, Tina. A little punishment is exactly what you need to fall back in line.” I thrashed against him, beating my fists against his arms, but his grip on my throat was suffocating. I couldn’t make a sound. My eyes blew wide with terror as the mass of dairy and sugar descended toward my face. I managed to choke out a single, raspy plea. “Carter… please… it’ll kill me…” “Scared now?” he sneered. “Too late.” He jammed his fingers into my jaw, forcing my mouth open, and shoved the heavy lump of buttercream past my teeth. Grabbing a glass of red wine, he poured it directly over my face, forcing me to swallow the sickeningly sweet mass to keep from drowning. Satisfied, he threw me to the floor. “Look at that,” he panted, wiping his hands on a napkin. “No allergic reaction. You’re almost thirty years old, Tina. Is throwing tantrums for attention really all you have to offer? And now you’re using breakups as a threat?” Ignoring the bruising on my neck and the agonizing pain in my leg, I crawled toward the hallway, jamming my fingers down my throat, desperately trying to gag the buttercream back up. Disgusted, Carter dragged me by the collar out into the corridor. “Let’s see how long you keep up the act when you don’t have an audience!” He slammed the heavy oak door shut. Collapsed on the carpet, I caught a final glimpse through the closing crack of the door. Mia was looking down at me, a brilliant, victorious smile plastered across her face.

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My mother always said that taking things from your own daughter isn’t stealing. It’s just… borrowing without asking. My husband, Mark, had been drowning in a depression that lasted all through the holidays. His startup had imploded, leaving us gasping for air financially. I made a decision. I was going to be the life raft. “Mark,” I said, trying to inject some hope into the stagnant air of our living room. “Gold is at an all-time high. I’m going to sell my investment bars. All of them. It’s enough to clear the debts and give you a fresh start.” Hope flickered in his eyes for the first time in months. But when I spun the dial on the safe and pulled the heavy handle, my stomach dropped through the floor. The shelves were bare. The two pounds of gold bars I had been accumulating for years—my safety net, my emergency fund—were gone. The light in Mark’s eyes died instantly, replaced by the cold, hard glint of a man who feels he’s been played. “Natalie!” He roared, his face flushing crimson. “If you didn’t want to help, just say so! Why drag me through this charade? Do you get off on humiliating me?” Right on cue, my mother rushed out of the guest room, her face twisted into a mask of exaggerated disappointment. “Oh, Natalie, not again,” she sighed, shaking her head as if I were a toddler who had spilled juice on the carpet. “You’ve been like this since you were a little girl. Always losing things. Remember when you lost your birthday money under your own pillow? And now this? You can’t even keep track of gold bars? When are you going to grow up?” I stood there, mouth open, paralyzed. I had no defense. … I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Gold doesn’t just walk away. It was in a locked safe. That night, sleep was impossible. I tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around my legs like vines. Finally, I gave up and grabbed my phone, aimlessly scrolling through Poshmark to numb my brain. The algorithm, cruel and efficient, pushed a listing into my feed. “My daughter is too sweet, she insists on buying me gold jewelry, but the style is just too young for me. Sadly letting it go. Serious buyers only.” The comments section was a chorus of envy. “You’re so lucky! Your daughter is an angel.” “Is this the limited edition chain? I’ve been looking for this forever!” “I’ll take it! Maybe some of your daughter’s good karma will rub off on me.” The blood rushed to my head, dizzying and hot, before draining away to leave me ice cold. My fingers went rigid. That bracelet. The clasp. The specific link pattern. It didn’t just look like the one missing from my safe. It was the one missing from my safe. My hands trembling, I clicked on the seller’s profile: ThriftyMom_55. She had thousands of followers. A “trusted seller.” I scrolled through her sold listings, and it was like walking through a museum of my missing memories. Last Valentine’s Day. “Daughter insisted on buying me these preserved roses. I don’t get the hype. $30 takes them.” The photo showed the limited-edition Venus et Fleur arrangement Mark had waited three hours in line to get me. I remembered placing it on the mantle, feeling so loved. I went to the kitchen for water, came back, and it was gone. Mark and I had a screaming match that night. “Did you lose it? Did you misplace it? Your mom is right, you don’t appreciate anything!” he had yelled. I remembered my mother helping me tear the house apart, looking for it. “Oh dear,” she’d said, checking under the sofa. “You really need to be more careful.” She had sold it for thirty dollars. I scrolled down. Mother’s Day. “Happy Mother’s Day to me. Told my daughter not to spend money, but she bought this bag anyway. Not my style. Is it worth anything? Selling cheap.” It was the vintage Louis Vuitton I had tracked down for my mother-in-law’s 60th birthday. I had wanted to buy one for my own mother too, but she had waved me off, saying she preferred cash. So I wired her the money. But on the morning of the party, the bag for Mark’s mom vanished. Mark went from excited to confused to absolutely furious. “Natalie! If you didn’t want to buy it for my mom, just own it! Don’t lie to me and say it’s lost! Do you think I’m an idiot?” I had cried in the bathroom, feeling like I was losing my mind. My mother had come in with a fruit platter, soothing and toxic all at once. “Mark, go easy on her. Natalie has always been scatterbrained. She probably left it in a cab or something. Let’s not ruin the day.” She was gentle, but every word was a nail in the coffin of my credibility. Mark had exploded. “A three-thousand-dollar bag? Just ‘lost’? How much money has she flushed down the toilet over the years?” In the end, I drained my personal savings to give his mother two thousand dollars as an apology. Now I saw the truth. My mother had sold that bag for a grand. And my two thousand dollars? That just bought me the title of “careless spendthrift” in my husband’s eyes. Suddenly, a knock on the bedroom door made me jump. My mother peeked her head in. “Natalie? You awake? I need to talk to you.” I stared at her, my phone clutched tight against my chest. “What is it?” She didn’t notice the ice in my voice. She was too focused on her performance. “Sigh. I’ve been thinking. I’ve been staying here too long. I’m just a burden. Maybe after New Year’s, I should go back to the old house.” I almost snorted. She wasn’t leaving because she felt like a burden. She was leaving because she had successfully heisted my gold—worth nearly a hundred grand—and she needed to move the merchandise somewhere safe to sell it off piece by piece. When I didn’t respond, she sighed again, playing the martyr. “I see how Mark yells at you. It’s because I’m here, isn’t it? I’m cramping your style. I can’t be the reason your marriage fails. I’ll go.” Burden. Dragging me down. I almost laughed out loud. I grew up in a single-parent home. Just me and her against the world. When I married Mark, she refused a dowry, refused any financial help, and only asked for one thing: to live with us. Mark was touched. He thought she was a saint, unlike those “nightmare in-laws” you read about. He agreed instantly. But after the wedding? Expensive gifts Mark bought me vanished into thin air. We fought constantly. Mark thought I didn’t value his love. I felt like I was going crazy, gaslighted by my own reality. “I swear I put it right here…” I would say, over and over, sounding more unstable every time. And all along, it was her. My mother. orchestrating my insanity from the guest room. The front door slammed. Mark was home, and he reeked of whiskey. He didn’t even look at me. He walked straight to the bedroom, dragged his suitcase out of the closet, and threw it onto the floor. My heart hammered against my ribs. “What are you doing?” I grabbed his arm. He shook me off. “Natalie, I’m done. I want a divorce. I can’t take it anymore. You’re irresponsible, you’re careless, and I can’t build a life with someone who loses our future because she’s ‘forgetful.’” I froze. Before I could speak, my mother stepped out of her room. The timing was impeccable. “Natalie! Look what you’ve done! You’ve broken Mark’s heart again! You’re a grown woman, how can you be so messy?” She turned to Mark, her voice dripping with sympathetic reason. “Mark, please, calm down. This is my fault. I didn’t raise her right. She’s always been clumsy, butterfingers, I’ve told her a million times but she just won’t change.” She pivoted back to me, her face a mask of disappointment. “Hurry up! Apologize to Mark! Tell him you’ll change!” The script. It was always the same script. She frames me. She confirms my guilt by citing my “history.” She plays the long-suffering mother. I looked at her face—that face that claimed to love me while selling my life on a discount app—and something inside me snapped. The dam broke. “Yeah,” I said, my voice trembling with rage. “It’s hard to keep track of things when there’s a thief living in the house.” The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush bones. Mark’s face darkened. “Excuse me? Are you accusing me? Are you saying I stole my own gold? Are you insane?” My mother’s face went pale for a split second before she recovered her composure. “Natalie! How can you say such a thing? Is that how I raised you? Marriage is about trust! Apologize to Mark right now!” She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my flesh, trying to physically silence me. I ripped my arm away. I turned my blazing eyes on Mark. “Trust? You want to talk about trust?” I screamed, my voice raw. “Since the day we got married, whenever something went missing, did you ever once ask, ‘Hey, let’s look for it together’? No! You immediately assumed it was me! You assumed I was stupid! You assumed I didn’t care! You assumed I was trash!” For years, Mark listened to my mother. He never listened to me. Mark frowned, his eyes cold and distant. “Fine. If you think someone stole it, call the cops. File a report.” “No!” My mother shrieked. It was a sound of pure panic. “No police! We don’t air our dirty laundry! Think of the neighbors! Think of your reputation!” Her panic was the final proof. I didn’t just suspect it anymore. I knew. She saw the look on my face and switched tactics instantly. She turned the attack back on me. “Are you sure you even bought two pounds of gold? That’s a lot of money, Natalie. Maybe you just… imagined it? Or maybe you spent that money on something else and you’re afraid to tell Mark?” There it was. The gaslighting. I remembered being seven years old. My grandma gave me a twenty-dollar bill for my birthday. It was a fortune. I hid it under my pillow. Two days later, it was gone. I cried for weeks. I felt so guilty, so stupid. A month later, I heard my mother on the phone with Grandma: “Why did you give her cash, Mom? If I hadn’t taken it, she would have just wasted it on candy.” She stole my birthday money and let me hate myself for a month. “Okay,” I said, my voice deadly calm. “Let’s call the police.” My mother’s face twisted. “Natalie! Why do you have to be so difficult? If you really had that gold, why didn’t you give it to Mark weeks ago?” She was scrambling. Throwing mud to see what stuck. Mark looked at me, suspicion narrowing his eyes. “She has a point. Where did the gold go, Nat? Or did you never intend to help me? Was that your secret exit strategy?” My heart turned to ash. My mother sighed, turning to Mark with a sorrowful smile. “Mark, I’m so sorry. I failed as a mother. She’s been like this forever. Pencils, erasers, backpacks—she’d lose them in a week. I beat her, I scolded her, but she never learned.” I tried to pull away from the narrative she was spinning, shaking with humiliation. “That’s not true—” “Not true?” My mother cut me off, her voice shrill. “What about the anniversary watch Mark bought you? Gone in a month! What about the ring? Mark saved for six months for that, and you lost it on a vacation! And his mother’s bag? I warned you to put it away! But no, you lost it and embarrassed Mark in front of his whole family! I had to sell my own jade bangle—my grandmother’s bangle!—just to buy a replacement so his mother wouldn’t be offended! I’m not bringing up the past to hurt you, Natalie, I’m trying to save you! How can any man build a life with a woman who bleeds money like a wounded artery?” “Are you finished?!” I screamed. The sound tore from my throat, raw and animalistic. “My whole life! Everything that goes missing is my fault! I’m the screw-up! I’m the waste of space!” I stumbled back, tears blurring my vision as I looked at Mark. “And you believe it. You think I’m just a heartless, careless woman who threw away your hard work? You think I hid the gold to watch you suffer?” Mark looked away, his jaw tight. He believed her. My mother saw my breakdown and smirked, a tiny, fleeting thing. Then she put her concerned mask back on. “Natalie, calm down. We’re trying to help. If the gold is gone, it’s gone. I have a little money saved up for my funeral expenses… maybe I can—” “Funeral expenses?” I let out a jagged, bitter laugh. “Mom, are your ‘funeral expenses’ funded by my gold necklace? My designer bags? Mark’s gifts?” Mark’s head snapped up. “What?” I wiped my face. I stood up straight. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “Mom,” I said softly. “What’s the username for your Poshmark account again?” My mother’s face went rigid. Her pupils contracted to pinpoints. “Natalie! We’re talking about gold bars! Why are you bringing up my silly little shopping app?” Mark looked between us, confused.

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