Category: English

After three years together, Xander set a rule: we couldn’t hold hands for more than three minutes a day. He said we had to meet at the summit—that we absolutely couldn’t let ourselves get distracted before the SAT exams. I believed him. I suppressed my desires and stayed up late studying with him. The night the scores came out, there was a class party. I went to find him with my results—scores high enough to get into the same university as him. But at the bar, I caught him pinning Summer, the worst student in our class, against the wall, kissing her with wild, unrestrained passion. Summer gasped and pushed him away: “Xander, your girlfriend will be angry if she finds out…” Xander laughed carelessly: “She’s obedient as a dog. I just need to buy her a gift and say a few sweet words, and she’ll be fine. She can’t leave me.” Outside the door, my hands and feet went ice cold. My heart hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. I thought he had a low sex drive. Turns out he just wasn’t interested in me. I forced back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes and tore up that application form where I’d filled in the same choices as him, piece by piece.

I wiped away my tears, tossed the scraps into the trash, and walked back to our private room without looking back. Five minutes later, Xander and Summer pushed through the door one after the other. Xander’s expression was normal as he walked straight over to sit beside me, handing me a glass of water. “Have some water. Your voice sounded a bit hoarse from singing earlier.” I didn’t take it. My eyes were fixed on the faint red mark at the corner of his mouth. He noticed my gaze and casually wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. “What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying a hint of indulgent helplessness. I felt nauseous. Before I could speak, a delicate cry suddenly came from the other end of the room. “Oh no!” Summer had fallen onto the sofa by the karaoke machine, her eyes rimmed with red. “I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts so much…” She clutched her ankle, but her gaze traveled over the crowd to land on Xander. Several guys immediately rushed over with concern. But Summer bit her lower lip and shook her head pitifully: “You don’t need to trouble yourselves. I’ll… I’ll just take a cab home.” Xander set down the water glass, his brow furrowing slightly. He stood up and turned to look at me. “Mia, it’s not safe for Summer to take a cab alone. Let me take her home.” I looked up at this face I’d loved for three years. “She just twisted her ankle, not broken her leg. Can’t the classmate take her?” A flash of impatience crossed his eyes, quickly suppressed. He reached out to ruffle my hair. “Come on, we’re all classmates. It’s just helping each other out.” “Don’t be so sensitive. Tomorrow I’ll go with you to submit your applications, and I’ll grab that Black Forest cake you love from my house, okay?” I turned my head away, avoiding his hand. This was the first time in three years I’d refused his touch. Xander’s hand froze in mid-air. “Xander, if Mia isn’t happy about it, forget it. I can manage on my own…” Summer grabbed the hem of his shirt, her voice choked with tears. Xander’s expression darkened. Without looking at me again, he gripped Summer’s arm and helped her up. “Let’s go. I’ll take you.” He didn’t give me a single extra word of explanation before walking out of the room supporting Summer. The moment the door closed, I heard classmates whispering: “Xander is way too good to Summer. I’m surprised Mia isn’t even mad?” When the party ended, it was already ten at night. I walked the streets alone. Passing by the corner convenience store that Xander and I used to frequent, my feet seemed nailed to the ground. Through the glass, I saw a young couple in school uniforms huddled together working on homework. The boy draped his jacket over the girl’s shoulders, saying something in a low voice. I stood in the wind, my nails digging deep into the soft flesh of my palms. The sharp pain came, and my eyes instantly rimmed red. But I bit my lip hard, refusing to let the tears fall. Back home, I turned on my computer by the light of the streetlamp streaming through the window. The screen lit up. In the center of the desktop was a folder named “MIT Sprint.” It contained scanned copies of every handwritten note Xander had made for me over these three years. My hand gripped the mouse, the cursor hovering over that folder for a full thirty seconds. Then I permanently deleted it. Just then, my phone on the desk suddenly lit up. It was a shopping link from Xander—a white floral dress. Immediately, a second message popped up. “Wear this dress tomorrow when we submit applications. I just bought it, it’ll look really good on you.” I stared at the product photo. This dress looked way too familiar. Last week, Summer had posted on Ins about receiving an early birthday gift—the exact same style. I pulled at the corner of my mouth in an extremely short, cold laugh. “I don’t want this so-called meeting at the summit anymore.”

“Mia, over here!” The next morning, outside the school hallway. Xander waved at me, holding a small cake box. A little flag was stuck in the box with the words: “See you at MIT.” I walked up to him, glanced at the cake, but didn’t take it. “What time did you get home last night after taking Summer back?” I looked into his eyes, my tone calm. Xander’s gaze flickered for a moment, the smile at the corner of his mouth slightly fading. “Around nine. Why?” I pulled out my phone, brought up a screenshot, and held it in front of him. “Then the message you sent her at 11:47 saying ‘home safe, remember to use the body wash I gave you’—were you sleepwalking when you sent that?” Last night after clearing the folder, I casually checked my social media feed. Summer had posted at 23:50 saying “Thanks Xander for taking me home, got the body wash.” Though she deleted it two minutes later, I’d already taken a screenshot. Xander panicked instantly, his fingers tightening on the edge of the cake box, but he quickly recovered. “Stop making everything into a big deal. We were stressed for three years in senior year—can’t I relax a bit?” “Or are you trying to control who I’m friends with too? Mia, when did you become so unreasonable?” Hearing these words, my mind flashed to the week before finals in second semester of junior year. Another guy in class had asked me to study together at the library on the weekend. When Xander found out, he gave me the cold shoulder for two whole days. In the end, I apologized first and deleted that guy’s contact, and only then did he return to normal. He had always held double standards. I’d just been too in love with him before, choosing selective blindness. “Say whatever you want.” I put away my phone and walked past him. He called after me: “Cool off for a bit. Fill in MIT computer science major for your application like we agreed. Don’t gamble with your future out of spite.” I stopped, looking back through the hallway’s glass window. Right in front of me, he answered a phone call. The name flashing on the screen was Summer. When he answered, the corners of his mouth turned up, his voice softened, his steps became light. Exactly like when he used to chase after me. I withdrew my gaze and walked alone into the classroom, sitting down at the computer. I logged into the application system. On the screen, the first choice field blinked with an empty cursor. I remembered when we first got together in freshman year, when Xander leaned on his desk and drew me a future plan. Freshman year, take photos together at the MIT entrance. Junior year, intern together. Senior year, he’d propose. I’d kept that draft paper tucked in my diary for three whole years. The mouse clicked. First choice: MIT Computer Science and Technology. I hit the backspace key. Cleared it and typed again. First choice: Harvard University, Law. The South. Two thousand miles away. This was my original dream when I started high school—the dream I’d personally abandoned to attend the same school as Xander. My finger hovered above the submit button. My hand was shaking. Not because I was hesitating, but because I suddenly realized that from this moment on, the boy who used to lean on his desk and draw me our future—he was truly dead. I clicked submit. Then I pulled out my backpack and extracted that future plan I’d saved for three years. I folded it once, then again. Then stuffed it into the paper bin in the corner of the classroom. As I left the classroom, Summer’s voice came from the end of the hallway. Around a corner, her voice floated over clearly. “Xander, I sneaked a bite of the cake you just bought for Mia… She won’t be mad, will she?” Then came Xander’s suppressed laughter: “You need to eat less sugar or your teeth will hurt again.” I carried my bag and left through the hallway’s other exit.

“Mia, why have you been ignoring Xander these past few days?” The first week after submitting applications, a classmate messaged me. I didn’t reply, just silenced my phone and tossed it on the bed. In the past, whenever we fought, as long as he gave me the cold treatment for three days, I’d be the first to back down. This time, Xander was clearly waiting again. I found an empty shoebox and packed all the things he’d given me into it. Handwritten problem sets, a cheap silver bracelet, sticky notes covered with physics formulas. When I got to the workbook from second semester of junior year, I opened the cover page. “Mia, I’ve organized the thought process for every wrong answer in this book. If you master them all, MIT is guaranteed. —Your Xander.” I ran my fingertip over the words “Your Xander.” Then I closed the book and put it in the shoebox. I picked up the packing tape, preparing to seal it. I didn’t cry, but when sealing the tape, I had to tear it three times before it broke. Because my fingers had completely lost their strength. On the third day, Xander finally sent me a message: “Been at my grandma’s in my hometown these past few days. Bad phone signal. Stop being mad and reply.” Below was a photo from his hometown. I still didn’t reply. That afternoon, I went to a bookstore downtown, planning to buy some travel guides for the South. While picking books on the second floor, my peripheral vision caught the first-floor café area. Xander, who said he was in his hometown, was sitting by the window helping Summer organize travel plans. On the table sat two milk teas, with two straws in Summer’s cup. I stood behind the bookshelf, my fingers crushing the corner of the book in my hand. Summer’s voice floated up clearly. “Xander, will Mia be upset that you came out with me?” “Is she still mad at you? Actually… my scores aren’t high enough for MIT either. You don’t need to worry about me.” Xander laughed lightly: “She’s so stubborn—where else would she go besides to me?” “She definitely filled in MIT. Don’t worry about it. After school starts in September, once she’s on my turf, I can just sweet-talk her a bit and it’ll be fine.” He paused, then added another line. “You’re different. I’m worried about you going to that community college alone. After I get settled, I’ll fly over to see you on weekends.” Summer giggled and tapped his hand. “But what about Mia?” “Her? She’s very sensible. Just buy her some flowers and she’ll be fine. Don’t worry!” I slowly released the crumpled book pages. I remembered the New Year’s Eve party in sophomore year, on the way home when Xander walked me back. I’d asked him: “If we ever fight, will you go comfort other girls?” Seventeen-year-old Xander had stopped and turned to look at me. Seriously and clumsily, he’d said: “Mia, I’ve given you all the patience I have in this lifetime. How could I have any left to give to someone else?” That was the best sweet talk I’d ever heard. Looking back now, it was just empty promises casually made by a teenage boy. I finally stopped feeling the pain. Because the boy who said those words and the person downstairs who said “just sweet-talk her a bit” weren’t the same person at all. I put the book back on the shelf, turned around, and went downstairs. I went home, grabbed that sealed shoebox, and stuffed it into the roadside clothing donation bin. Then I pulled out my phone and blocked his contact one by one. At the same moment, on the bookstore’s first floor. Xander’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it—not a message from Mia. He paid it no mind and continued helping Summer check travel routes. “I’ll give her the cold shoulder for two more days. When the acceptance letters come, I’ll take mine to her apartment building. I guarantee she’ll be moved to tears.” What he didn’t know was that below the group message he’d scrolled past, there was another one. The advisor had sent an @everyone notice in the grade group chat. “Please verify your application information, everyone. The system has been locked and cannot be changed.”

Mid-August, the acceptance letters finally arrived. Xander looked at the MIT acceptance letter in his hand, unable to suppress the smile spreading across his face. He pulled out his phone, took a close-up shot of the acceptance letter, and prepared to send it to Mia. He clicked send. A red exclamation mark popped up on the screen. Below it, a line of small text: “The other party has enabled friend verification. You are not yet their friend.” Xander froze for two seconds, then let out a scoffing laugh. He opened Ins. The message wouldn’t send. He called. It went straight to voicemail. But he didn’t panic. He even found it a bit amusing. This was the first time Mia had escalated the cold war to blocking him across all platforms. She must be really angry this time. But it didn’t matter. No matter how much of a fuss she made, wouldn’t she come back in the end? Xander switched back to the group chat and typed: “Mia blocked me, hahaha, she’s really going all out this time.” The group chat instantly exploded. “Xander, you’re so bold. You ignored her for a whole month and you’re not even worried?” “Mia’s such a good girl. If you just stand at her door with that MIT acceptance letter, won’t she just cry and throw herself into your arms?” He looked at these messages, in high spirits. He admitted that these past few months he’d gotten too close to Summer, and he felt a bit guilty. But that was different. Summer was just novelty. Mia was the one who truly understood him, who’d endured three years with him. He thought to himself that once school started, he’d definitely make it up to her properly. Xander rode his bike to the mall and walked into a flower shop. “Give me a bouquet of your most expensive red roses.” He tapped the counter. Payment: $399, more than double the $188 bouquet he’d bought for Summer. Next, he went to the jewelry counter and picked out a silver necklace with small diamonds. When he was paying, the clerk smiled and asked: “Sir, this necklace comes with free engraving. Would you like anything engraved?” Xander thought for a moment, his mind flashing to the words he’d written on the corner of their desk freshman year. “Engrave ‘Meet at the Summit.’” He thought this arrangement was absolutely perfect. He went home and changed into a dress shirt, checked his hair in the mirror, then pulled out his phone. He sent Summer a message: “Got something to do today. I’ll contact you tonight.” Summer instantly replied with a cute emoji. “Okay. Contact me when you’re done, Xander!” Xander smiled slightly and casually cleared his entire chat history with Summer. Just in case Mia wanted to check his phone when they met later. He rode his bicycle, holding that bouquet of gorgeous red roses with one hand. In the rear storage basket sat the cake box and the necklace box. He rode across the entire city toward Mia’s house. In his mind, he was already imagining Mia’s expression when she opened the door and saw all this. She’d probably keep a stern face at first, pretending to be unhappy. Then when she saw “Meet at the Summit” engraved on the necklace, her eyes would slowly redden. Finally, she’d reach out to take the flowers and quietly complain, “It’s good you know you were wrong.” She was always like this. For three years, he’d understood her too well. She couldn’t escape from the palm of his hand. Two blocks from Mia’s house, his phone started vibrating violently in his pocket. He stopped his bicycle, pulled out his phone and saw it was his high school teacher Mr. Johnson calling. Xander answered the phone, his tone relaxed and cheerful: “Mr. Johnson, I received the acceptance letter. MIT Computer Science. Thank you for three years of guidance…” Mr. Johnson cut him off directly. “Xander, I’m not calling about you. I’m asking you—what’s going on with Mia?” He frowned. “Mia? She should have received her MIT acceptance letter too, right?” A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone: “With her scores, getting into MIT would have been more than enough. I even told other teachers you two would definitely go together.” “But when I got the final admissions list today…” Mr. Johnson’s voice suddenly rose. “Her application—she ended up choosing Harvard University Law School. That’s over two thousand miles from you.”

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On my way home, I picked up my last rideshare order. A man with a six-year-old child was on the phone with his wife. “Honey, I’m in the car now. I’ll drop off our son and come right back to spend our anniversary with you.” His wife’s voice came through. “Don’t we have a car at home? Stop taking rideshares. Those cars are filthy.” My grip on the steering wheel suddenly tightened. Not because of the insult in her words, but because the woman’s voice sounded exactly like my wife, Serena Moore. After the man hung up, he said apologetically, “Sorry about that. My wife is a bit of a germaphobe.” I nodded and probed cautiously, “What does your wife do for work?” The child answered proudly, “My mom’s a professor at Harvard! Her name is Serena Moore! She’s amazing!” The man stroked the boy’s hair affectionately. “My family would only let me marry a professor. She used to be a designer, but she became a professor for me.” It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me. My whole body went cold. It really was her! Seven years of marriage, and her illegitimate child from her affair was already six years old! I suppressed my heartache and went home, only to overhear Serena on the phone. “Mom, find a way to make Holden have a car accident. Once he loses his memory, I’ll bring Preston and the kid home.” “I’ll arrange the best medical care for him, but he’s occupied Preston’s place for so long. It’s time he gave it back.” I stood frozen in place, my heart finally turning cold. Then I pressed send. [Dad, I agree to the arranged marriage, but the company has to go to me too.]

After finishing her shower, Serena placed a bowl of broth on the table. “You’re home so late today. Were you busy?” She was still playing the role of devoted wife, as if she wasn’t the one who had been cheating for six years. Serena rarely had time to cook. Usually it was me rushing home to make dinner for her. The old me would have been moved to tears by this bowl of soup. But I didn’t touch it. I just sat down and looked at her quietly. She sensed something was off, but still asked patiently, “What’s wrong? Bad day? Didn’t get any orders?” “You don’t need to put so much pressure on yourself. The kid thing—we don’t need to rush it.” I smiled bitterly to myself. Yeah, your kid is already that old. What’s the rush? Throughout our marriage, Serena had used her career advancement as an excuse to avoid having children. I thought she felt our life wasn’t stable enough, and I felt bad about how hard she worked as a professor, so I desperately took on orders to earn money, driving from 4 AM until midnight. Now it was clear. She just didn’t want to have children with me. Thinking of our seven years together, I held onto one last shred of hope. “Serena, is there anything you’re hiding from me?” “If you tell me now, I can pretend nothing happened.” Serena’s body stiffened. Clearly I’d struck a nerve. “What do you mean?” I didn’t bother explaining further. “I mean, who are you cheating on me with?” Suddenly, a slap landed hard across my face. Serena flew into a rage and knocked the broth to the floor. “Holden Hayes, you sit around doing nothing all day and come up with this nonsense?” “Imagining your own wife sleeping around—how disgusting are you?” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. The last trace of affection disappeared. “I’m disgusting?” “When you told your mom to hurt your own husband, didn’t you think you were disgusting?” Serena froze for a moment, then frowned in disgust. “You eavesdropped on my phone call?” After a few seconds, she calmed herself and looked at me coldly. “Since you heard it, I’ll just say it straight.” “Preston and I have been together for many years. If he hadn’t gone abroad that year, and if you hadn’t saved me—” “How could I possibly have married someone as useless as you?” Her phone screen lit up. Serena glanced at something and her face filled with happiness. I laughed bitterly inside. So that man was still her true love. A belated pain started in my chest, followed by a dull ache from my ribs. That was a lingering injury from when I’d saved her. My breathing grew labored. “Serena, help me get my medicine… My rib injury is flaring up…” But Serena didn’t even glance at me. She grabbed her keys and walked out the door. “Holden, holding a favor over someone’s head works once. It won’t work a second time.” “You owe Preston so much. Apologize to him properly, and we can go back to how things were.” “I’m going to spend our anniversary with Preston. Think it over, then come find me.” My heart went completely numb. In her eyes, everything I’d done for her was just me holding a favor over her head. The pain in my ribs intensified. I struggled to move and find my medicine. Just as I took it, Lynn, my butler, called me. “Mr. Hayes, the arranged marriage with Miss Jones is set for three days from now. Please prepare yourself.”

I packed my things to go home. A colleague sent me a text message. “Holden, why is the platform full of bad reviews about you?” “The company fired you and locked your car access.” I felt no emotion. I knew without asking this was Serena’s doing. She wanted to use this method to force me to apologize, to force me to endure. But that was fine. I was going to resign anyway. This saved me the trouble. But the next sentence truly stopped me in my tracks. “Oh right, Miss Moore is actually the daughter of Mr. Moore, our chairman!” Serena was the daughter of Steven Moore, the owner of the rideshare company? My heart sank to rock bottom. No wonder management always gave me trouble and assigned me barely any orders. No wonder she could get her mother to sabotage me. But from our marriage until now, she’d lied to me, saying her parents were farmers in the countryside who couldn’t conveniently come to the city. I’d never met her parents. They hadn’t even attended our wedding. I didn’t care about her background, but I couldn’t accept that she’d deceived me for five years. From the very beginning, she never planned to accept me, and after all these years, she still hadn’t. I was about to block Serena’s contact information when an unknown number called. “Is this Holden Hayes? I’m Serena’s mother. Do you have time to come over for dinner?” I thought about it and agreed. Our seven years together deserved some kind of closure. I arrived at the Moore family mansion. Inside was lavishly decorated, filled with their relatives. After dinner, out of respect, I volunteered to wash dishes and clean up. That’s when I heard people around me gossiping. “So this is the man Serena never brought home? He’s quite handsome, but he looks so shabby.” “Oh honey, he’s just a rideshare driver who saved her once. How can he compare to Preston?” “Exactly. Preston may not have a job, but his family background is so much better.” I kept my expression unchanged, but my heart ached again. Back then, for Serena’s sake, I’d refused the family’s arranged marriage. I’d fought bitterly with my father and been kicked out of the house. I’d worked hard to give Serena the best life possible. She complained I was useless, yet the man she was devoted to was a freeloader who did nothing. The difference between love and lack of love was indeed obvious. Mrs. Moore sneered. “What husband? The marriage certificate is fake.” “My daughter said he’s just a male housekeeper Serena hired.” All the blood in my body seemed to freeze. I stood there rigid. The marriage certificate was fake? I thought of yesterday, when I’d taken out the marriage certificate to file for divorce, never imagining it was a fake document. The year we got married, Serena and I walked out of the courthouse together. She held that red booklet and smiled at me for the first time. “Holden, I’ll treat you well.” I’d been so excited I couldn’t sleep all night. How moved I’d been then was how ironic it felt now. Mrs. Moore even pulled out photos of their family of three and introduced them to everyone. “This is my real son-in-law. The child looks so much like his father, doesn’t he?” Just then, a news segment played on the TV. “The Moore family heiress has publicly revealed her longtime partner, Mr. Preston.” “According to the couple, they will hold a wedding of the century at the end of this month.” Looking at the TV screen showing the two of them smiling and snuggling sweetly together, I finally understood Mrs. Moore’s intentions. She’d called me here just to make me leave on my own, to establish in front of everyone that I was the homewrecker destroying their family. After gathering my things, I pushed open the door to leave, only to run straight into Serena, who’d just returned. Behind her stood the child and Preston. When she saw me, she slapped me without a word. “Holden Hayes, how dare you make a scene at my house?” “In front of all these people—what exactly are you trying to do?” After all these years, she still jumped to conclusions without asking, never caring about my feelings. My face stung painfully. I pulled at the corner of my mouth. Might as well make everything clear in front of everyone. “Serena Moore, I came to tell you that not everyone is like your freeloader mistress.” “I, Holden Hayes, never used a cent of your money or asked you for a single favor.” “From now on, you and I have nothing to do with each other. Understand?”

Serena’s usually proud face showed a trace of disbelief and panic. “What do you mean? You want a divorce?” I laughed coldly. “Divorce? The marriage certificate is fake. There’s no divorce to speak of, is there?” “All these years with you, wasn’t I just a free housekeeper?” The Moore family relatives started chiming in. “Serena, this man just claimed to be your husband. What’s your relationship with him?” Serena’s earlier panic vanished in a flash. She gripped Preston’s hand tightly behind her. “How is that possible? Preston has always been my husband.” “Would I, Serena Moore, ever like a rideshare driver?” Then Preston smiled and put his arm around her shoulder, sizing me up. “Oh, it’s you. That driver from the other day. I guess it’s true—dirty car, dirty person.” I clenched my fists, holding back again and again. Forget it. Arguing with these people was a waste of life. But just as I passed by him, Preston lowered his voice and leaned close to my ear. “She hasn’t let you touch her in a long time, right? Want to know why?” “Because her body is covered with my marks. And you—you’re dirty and weak, can’t even hold onto your own woman.” Hearing that, my anger finally exploded. Though I no longer cared about Serena’s affair, I couldn’t stand the mistress’s constant provocations. But before I could move, Preston suddenly let go and fell backward down the steps. He slammed hard onto the ground in front of the mansion entrance, blood seeping from the back of his head. The Moore family members screamed. Serena shoved me aside hard and ran down to hold Preston. “Preston, Preston, are you okay… Does it hurt…” Seeing her face full of concern, I found it laughable. Years ago, when I’d saved her, I’d broken two ribs and used my body to pry open the crushed car door. I’d been in so much pain that tears streamed involuntarily down my face, yet she’d said coldly, “You’re a grown man. Can’t handle a little pain? Do you need to cry about it?” Serena turned her head and shouted at me with red eyes. “Holden Hayes, have you lost your mind? To get me, you want to kill Preston?” This was the first time I’d seen her this angry. I said coldly, “He fell on his own. Are you blind?” Before I finished speaking, a sharp pain shot through my hand. It was Serena’s illegitimate son. He was hitting my arm with a scalding kettle of hot water. “Bad man! Don’t bully my daddy!” I frowned and pushed the child away. But Serena suddenly rushed over and slapped me several times. She held the child tightly behind her. “You bastard, you even want to hurt my son?” “Holden Hayes, do you really enjoy using these dirty tactics?” Mrs. Moore pulled out her phone and pointed it at me. She was livestreaming. “Everyone come see! The homewrecker is making trouble at the real wife’s house, trying to kill her husband and harm the child!” I looked at this absurd scene and suddenly felt exhausted. No matter how I explained, no one would believe me. They didn’t care about the truth. They wanted to ruin my reputation. Serena kept pounding on me, her eyes full of hatred. “Holden Hayes, I must have been blind to show you any mercy!” “You’ve occupied Preston’s place for so many years—how dare you lay a hand on him!” “Get on your knees and apologize to him right now!” I almost laughed in anger. “Why should I apologize for something I didn’t do?” “You chose to marry me. You chose to cheat. What do I owe Preston?” I looked at them one last time, coldly. “Serena Moore, you’ve lied to me for seven years. You’re the one who owes me.” “I hope you never regret this for the rest of your life.” With that, I ignored everyone’s curses and walked straight out. After instructing Lynn to pick me up, I stood by the road waiting for the car. But the next second, a black car suddenly came barreling toward me. I couldn’t dodge in time and slammed directly into the hood.

When I woke again, I was lying in the Hayes family’s private hospital. My head was dizzy, and my right leg hurt terribly. But compared to when I’d saved Serena, this injury was nothing. My father’s hoarse voice sounded. “You’re awake?” I turned my head to see him sitting by the bed, his eyes red. “Dad.” Seven years. I’d finally seen my father again. He touched my head, as if only then daring to confirm I was really awake. “How long was I out?” “Five days.” Five days. That’s when I learned that to get revenge on me, Serena had deliberately called a car to run me over. Fortunately, Lynn had arrived in time and rushed me to the best hospital for emergency treatment, which was why I’d woken up. Luckily there was no major injury—just a mild concussion and external wounds. I tried to sit up, propping myself on my arms. A dull pain shot through my ribs. Dad said he’d already sent people to deal with the hit-and-run driver, but as for those two people, he’d leave them to me. I nodded without asking more. Of course I wouldn’t let them off easily, but not now. Then I remembered something else. “What about the arranged marriage with the Jones family?” Lynn hesitated. “Miss Moore said we could wait a bit longer.” I frowned and immediately threw off the covers to get out of bed. “No waiting. Today.” “Making a young lady wait so long—what kind of behavior is that?” Dad came over and patted my shoulder gently, saying nothing. Finally, I changed into a suit and got in the car heading to the Jones residence. On the way, I opened my phone. There was a message Serena had just sent. I didn’t open it. I just deleted it. When I arrived at the Jones residence, Amelia Jones was already waiting for me. She wore a white dress. Seeing me get out of the car, she paused slightly. I walked over and extended my hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Jones.” She smiled and placed her hand in my palm. “Just call me Amelia.” At the Moore mansion, Serena adjusted Preston’s collar. “Preston, the Jones family’s young lady is getting married today. I’m going over to discuss a project.” “Many elites will be there. It’s a perfect chance to introduce you around.” She took Preston’s arm and got in the car heading to the Jones residence. She opened her chat with Holden Hayes, still feeling uneasy. “Have you finished throwing your tantrum? When you’ve thought it through, come apologize to Preston.” “As long as you sincerely apologize, I can let it go. We can go back to how things were.” But he hadn’t replied to a single message these past few days. After thinking, she sent another one. “I was wrong about the marriage certificate. Whatever compensation you want, I’ll give it to you.” After sending it, she took Preston’s arm and entered the Jones family reception hall. Inside, business elites packed the space. Once everyone had arrived, the Jones family announced they would present the newlyweds. Preston said enviously, “I heard the man marrying Miss Jones has an even better background. I wonder which Mr. Hayes it is.” As soon as he finished speaking, I walked into the hall with a smile, holding Amelia Jones’s hand. The guests below applauded to congratulate us. After Serena saw my face clearly, she froze in place. Her purse dropped to the floor with a thud.

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Once again, Ethan Pierce pinned me down and took what he wanted. When it was over, he stared at my face and whispered another woman’s name. “Yolanda, I love you.” Yolanda Reed was the woman he truly loved. And I had been his secret lover for eight years. I thought eight years by his side would finally make him love me. But the moment Yolanda came back, he got down on one knee and proposed on live television. Ethan even made me, his assistant, present the engagement ring. When I walked onstage holding the box, Yolanda leaned close to my ear and whispered with a soft laugh. “Thanks for warming his bed for eight years. Now it’s time to give him back to his rightful owner.” The crowd erupted in applause. The lights were blinding. And that man who had me pinned beneath him just last night didn’t spare me a single glance as he kissed Yolanda passionately. My heart turned to ash. It was finally time to leave. Sienna POV Ethan Pierce’s control over my body was as absolute as ever. In the dark, castle-like master bedroom, he’d just finished another empty, emotionless round. I barely had time to take the pill from the nightstand before exhaustion shut my eyes. When I woke again, it was already the next morning. A sharp ringtone jolted me awake. I pulled on a robe and walked to the living room, only to find Ethan’s special assistant standing there with a freshly printed legal contract in hand. “Miss Sienna Hayes, Mr. Pierce has instructed you to sign this copyright transfer agreement.” The assistant’s voice was all business, devoid of any warmth. I was a children’s book author. During these eight years by Ethan’s side, I had written countless warm and healing fairy tales under the pen name Starlight. The worlds I created were filled with light, miracles, and unwavering love. But in reality, I was just Ethan’s secret lover who could never see the light of day. I lowered my gaze to the contract. “The Deer Above the Clouds.” This was my latest full-length fairy tale, three years in the making, my heart and soul poured into every word. And in the transferee column, two words were printed clearly. Yolanda Reed. “What is this supposed to mean?” My fingertips went ice-cold instantly. My voice trembled uncontrollably. Ethan emerged from his study wearing an impeccably tailored dark suit, his features cold and sharp, radiating aristocratic hauteur. “Exactly what it says.” He spoke casually, his tone matter-of-fact. “Yolanda’s depression has gotten worse recently. She needs an opportunity to return to the public eye. This fairy tale has a very healing tone. Publishing it under her name will be good for both her condition and her image.” My brain exploded with a roar. I stared in disbelief at this man I had loved for eight years. “Ethan, that’s my life’s work! Every single word, every single story. I stayed up countless nights writing it. Yolanda hasn’t even read it. What gives you the right to hand it over to her?” Yolanda Reed, Ethan’s first love, the woman he cherished most. A year ago, Yolanda’s career abroad hit rock bottom, and she came back carrying the label of “depression.” From that day on, my life became absolute hell. Whenever Yolanda was the slightest bit unhappy, Ethan would trample me underfoot without hesitation. Ethan frowned slightly, as if displeased by my resistance. “Sienna, don’t be unreasonable. You write fairy tales to make money, don’t you? I’ll compensate you ten times the royalties for this book. Yolanda is mentally fragile right now. She needs applause and flowers to rebuild her confidence. You’re just a ghostwriter. What use do you have for fame?” I bit down hard on my lower lip until I tasted blood. Ten times compensation? To me, fairy tales were my only refuge in this broken life. They were my soul. They were the light that kept me alive. But Ethan was about to rip out my soul with casual ease and stitch it onto Yolanda’s false shell. “I don’t want the money.” I looked at him. “I wrote this fairy tale for Oliver. I will never give it to anyone, especially not Yolanda!” Oliver, Oliver Hayes, my younger brother who had autism. Hearing my refusal, Ethan’s gaze turned ice-cold in an instant. He stepped forward, his long fingers gripping my chin with force enough to crush bone. “What makes you think you have the right to negotiate with me?” Ethan looked down at me from above, his voice laced with frost. “Everything you and your brother have had these past years. Who do you think paid for it? Now Yolanda needs it. So you’ll give it to her.” My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. I couldn’t breathe from the pain. Eight years. When I was eighteen, my parents died, leaving me alone with my autistic brother with nowhere to turn. Ethan descended like an angel and gave me a home. I thought it was salvation, so I gave him my entire heart, my entire life. I was the quiet, obedient woman by day and the bedmate he could take at will by night. I thought if I was good enough, if I loved him enough, someday I could melt this iceberg. Even in bed, in his most passionate moments, he had kissed my forehead and called my name. Turned out it was all just a dream. A tear fell from my eye onto the back of Ethan’s hand, scalding him into a brief pause. But he quickly released me in disgust. “Sign it.” Ethan took the fountain pen his assistant handed him and threw it on the coffee table. “Don’t make me use other methods. You know Oliver is still at the care facility.” My whole body trembled. He was threatening me with my brother. I closed my eyes as tears slid down my cheeks. Eight years of devotion, and in the end, all I got was a calculated robbery with a price tag. My hand shook as I picked up the pen and signed my name on the agreement. Every stroke felt like carving flesh from my own body.

Sienna POV Three days after signing the agreement, Yolanda made her high-profile comeback with “The Deer Above the Clouds.” News articles flooded every outlet praising Yolanda as a “talented beauty author,” saying she used fairy tales to heal herself and the world. I sat in my dim room, watching Yolanda’s radiant smile on the screen, my heart bleeding with every beat. But I didn’t even have time to grieve. The care facility called. Something had happened to Oliver. I stumbled to the facility in a panic. When I arrived, Oliver was curled in the corner of the art room, trembling violently, clutching broken paintbrush shards in his hands. Torn papers littered the floor. “Oliver!” I rushed over and wrapped my brother tightly in my arms. Oliver was an autistic savant. He couldn’t speak, so all his emotions came through in his art. Every illustration in “The Deer Above the Clouds” had been drawn by Oliver, stroke by painstaking stroke. “The deer… it’s gone…” Oliver forced out a few words, his eyes filled with terror and despair. My heart felt like it was tearing apart. I turned around to see Yolanda standing at the art room door, with Ethan beside her. Yolanda wore a pristine white dress, looking like an innocent angel. She hid behind Ethan, her eyes rimmed with red. “Ethan, I just wanted to visit Oliver and let him know his paintings would be published under my name from now on, so he wouldn’t worry. Who knew he’d suddenly go crazy and almost hurt me…” My brain exploded with rage. It wasn’t just the words. They were stealing Oliver’s artwork too! “Yolanda Reed, do you have no conscience?!” I stood up. “Stealing my book wasn’t enough? You had to come provoke Oliver too? Those paintings are his life!” I lunged forward to push Yolanda away, but Ethan grabbed my wrist and flung me aside violently. I lost my balance and crashed hard onto the floor covered with torn paper. A broken paintbrush sliced open my palm, leaving a long gash that bled profusely. Ethan looked down at me from above, his eyes full of warning. “Sienna, have you lost your mind? Yolanda came here out of kindness to visit him, and your brother not only showed no gratitude but almost injured her hand. She’s a violinist. Don’t you know how important her hands are?” I lay on the floor, staring at my bleeding palm, and laughed. Yolanda’s hands mattered, but my brother’s life didn’t? “Ethan, are you blind?” I pointed at Oliver cowering and trembling in the corner. “She came here to steal Oliver’s paintings! She’s the one who pushed him to this!” “Enough!” Ethan cut me off coldly. “It seems this facility is no longer suitable for Oliver. I’ll arrange to send him to a closed psychiatric rehabilitation center abroad. There, he can receive proper discipline.” I felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. A closed rehabilitation center abroad. In other words, a psychiatric institution. For someone like Oliver, going there was a death sentence. “No! You can’t take Oliver away!” Ignoring my injured hand, I crawled over and clutched Ethan’s legs desperately. “Mr. Pierce, I’m begging you. I gave you the book, I gave you the paintings, let Yolanda take everything, all of it! Just please don’t send Oliver away. He’ll die without me!” I abandoned every shred of dignity, humbling myself to dust. Ethan looked down at me clinging to his legs, his brow furrowing slightly. But then Yolanda gently tugged at his sleeve. “Ethan, I’m so scared. Oliver looked terrifying just now…” Yolanda leaned weakly against his shoulder. Ethan’s gaze hardened once more. He pried my fingers off one by one, his voice utterly flat. “This isn’t up for discussion. Keeping him here will only make him a threat to Yolanda. Tomorrow morning, I’ll have someone pick him up.” With that, he put his arm around Yolanda and left the art room without looking back. I collapsed on the floor, watching their retreating figures, tears streaming down uncontrollably. I had always thought that even though Ethan was cold, he at least had some compassion for me. Now I understood. In Yolanda’s presence, my brother and I didn’t even qualify as human beings. We were just stepping stones on Yolanda’s path to success, ready to be crushed at any moment. I turned and held Oliver, burying my face in my brother’s thin shoulder, crying silently. I had to find a way to save my brother. Even if it cost me my life, I couldn’t let Ethan take Oliver away.

Sienna POV To stop Oliver from being sent abroad, I stood outside Ethan’s villa all night. The autumn night rain cut through me with bone-chilling cold. I was soaked to the skin, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t until the next morning that Ethan’s black sedan finally pulled through the gate. The car window rolled down. Ethan saw me standing in the rain, his brow furrowed deeply. “Get inside.” He threw out those cold words. I followed him into the living room. Rainwater dripped from my hair onto the expensive carpet. Ethan removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, his sharp gaze fixed on me. “Playing the victim? Sienna, when did you learn these underhanded tactics?” I stood there numbly, my voice so hoarse I could barely speak. “As long as you don’t send Oliver away, I’ll do anything.” Ethan let out a cold laugh and walked up to me, his long fingers hooking open my soaked collar. “Anything?” His tone was mocking. “Besides this body of yours, what else could possibly interest me?” I closed my eyes and didn’t resist as he scooped me up and threw me onto the bedroom’s large bed. What followed was a conquest without foreplay, only punishment. Ethan seemed to be venting some unknown fury, his movements rough and brutal. I gritted my teeth and didn’t cry out once in pain. Only silent tears slid from the corners of my eyes, soaking the pillow. I let him tear into me. When it was over, Ethan looked at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “Oliver can stay for now.” Ethan lit a cigarette, dispensing his mercy in the coldest tone possible. “But you have to move out of your current apartment and live in my villa in the western suburbs. You’re not allowed to leave without my permission.” The western suburb villa was where Ethan kept his “pets” in a gilded cage. “Okay.” I agreed without a moment’s hesitation. As long as I could protect my brother, I would give up even my life, let alone my freedom. For the next two weeks, I was completely confined. Ethan came almost every night. He adorned me with the most expensive jewelry and possessed me with the most extreme control. He was trying to prove that I still belonged completely to him. But during the day, I was forced to do the most humiliating work. Ghostwriting for Yolanda. “The Deer Above the Clouds” was a huge success, and the publisher demanded Yolanda produce a sequel as soon as possible. Yolanda couldn’t write a single word herself, so Ethan forced the task onto me. “Ten thousand words per day. If you don’t finish, Oliver’s medical expenses stop.” Those were Ethan’s exact words. I sat at the computer, staring at the screen filled with fairy tale elements that should have been mine, now bearing someone else’s name. Every keystroke felt like a knife cutting into my heart. I wrote faster and faster, but the stories grew sadder and sadder. The princesses in my stories no longer had knights to protect them. They could only bleed alone in dark forests. One afternoon, the villa door opened. It wasn’t Ethan who entered, but Yolanda. Yolanda looked at me, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. “Sienna, do you think Ethan comes to see you every night because he loves you?” Yolanda walked to the desk and casually flipped through my discarded drafts, her tone contemptuous. “He just doesn’t want to hurt me. My wrist was injured, my body is delicate. He can’t bear to touch me. So he uses you as a tool to vent his frustrations instead.” My fingers froze on the keyboard. “Do you know Ethan bought me a wedding dress yesterday?” Yolanda leaned closer, lowering her voice. “At next month’s book launch, he’s going to propose to me. And you? You’ll always be nothing but a dirty woman who can’t see daylight, who doesn’t even deserve to have her name on her own work.” I stared at the screen, my nails digging deep into my palms. I said nothing. I thought my heart had already died, but hearing the word “propose” still made it convulse with pain. Seeing that I wouldn’t fight back, Yolanda seemed to lose interest. She scoffed and left. The room fell silent again. I looked at the sentence on my screen. “The deer finally died on a night without stars.” I covered my face and let out a desperate, muffled cry.

Sienna POV The launch event was dazzling, packed with media and celebrities. I was supposed to be confined to the western suburb villa, but out of the blue, Ethan had someone deliver a haute couture gown and ordered me to attend. “Yolanda’s signing session needs an assistant to hand her pens and organize manuscripts. You’re most familiar with this material. You’ll go.” Ethan’s reasoning sounded official, but every word cut like a blade. I wore an ill-fitting gray business suit and stood in the shadows where the spotlights couldn’t reach. I watched the center of the stage. Yolanda wore a white haute couture gown, looking every bit the fairy tale princess. She held the trophy that should have been mine, smiling gracefully and beautifully. “This work wouldn’t exist without the most important person in my life.” Yolanda spoke into the microphone, gazing affectionately at Ethan in the front row. “He gave me inspiration, and he pulled me out of the abyss of depression.” Thunderous applause erupted. Ethan walked onstage and took the microphone from the host. His usually stern face now wore an unusually gentle smile. “Yolanda is a genius. She deserves the best of everything this world has to offer.” Ethan looked at Yolanda, his voice deep and pleasant. Then, before countless flashing cameras, he dropped to one knee and produced a dazzling diamond ring. “Yolanda, marry me.” The crowd went wild. Romantic confetti rained down from above. I stood in the corner, coldly watching this scene unfold. My heart had gone numb from pain. Even breathing tasted like blood. Eight years. I had accompanied him through his family’s most difficult power struggles, shielded him from harm in the business world, and even nursed him meticulously for a month when he had a bleeding ulcer. I had naively thought that if I just kept waiting, someday he would turn around and truly see me. But now, he was giving all his glory, favor, and promises to another woman. And I had been personally pushed into the mud by his hands, forced to witness their happiness. “Could the assistant please bring up the books for signing?” The host’s voice suddenly rang out. A spotlight hit me. Every eye in the venue focused on me. I froze in place. Yolanda smiled and beckoned. “Come on over, everyone’s waiting.” Ethan also turned his head, his gaze locking coldly onto me with unquestionable authority. I took a deep breath, picked up the thick stack of new books, and walked toward the stage step by step. The book’s cover bore Yolanda’s name. The illustrations were Oliver’s. The words were mine. This was my brother’s and my flesh and blood, now reduced to props for someone else’s romance. When I reached Yolanda’s side, she suddenly lowered her voice to a volume only we could hear. “Sienna, see? Your life’s work, your man. They’re all mine now. You’re nothing but a complete failure.” My hands trembled violently. The books tumbled from my arms and scattered across the floor with a loud crash. Gasps rippled through the audience. “What kind of work is this? You can’t even do such a simple task!” Ethan shouted harshly. “Hurry up and pick them up! Apologize to Yolanda!” I looked at the books scattered on the floor, at Ethan’s heartless face, and suddenly found it all absurd. I didn’t bend down to pick up the books. Instead, I stood straight and looked directly at Ethan. “Ethan, do you really love her?” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet venue, it rang out clearly. Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly. “What nonsense are you spouting? Security, get her out of here!” “If you don’t love her, why did you steal my life to give to her?” I smiled, the last light in my heart extinguishing completely. “If you do love her, then why do you pin me down every night and call out her name?” The moment those words left my mouth, the entire venue fell deathly silent. Yolanda’s face went deathly pale. Ethan’s eyes churned with a terrifying storm. “Shut her up and drag her out!” Ethan exploded with rage. Several security guards rushed forward, roughly twisting my arms behind my back and dragging me away. I didn’t struggle. I just turned back and looked deeply at Ethan one last time. In my heart, there was no more love, no more hate. Only the dead ashes of what once was. Ethan, I don’t owe you anything anymore.

Sienna POV After the launch event scandal, Ethan’s revenge became absolutely insane. I was completely cut off from the outside world, locked in the western suburb villa like a real prisoner. Every day, aside from being forced to write, I endured Ethan’s furious punishment at night. Ethan used his actions to show me exactly what happened when I defied him. But I didn’t care about any of it anymore. The only thing I still worried about was Oliver. However, the thing I feared most still happened. Late one night, the villa’s landline suddenly rang. The servant watching over me wasn’t there, so I picked up the phone. “Is this the family member of Oliver Hayes? This is the care facility. The patient’s condition is critical. Please come immediately!” The doctor’s voice was extremely urgent. My mind went completely blank. I bolted out of the villa without thinking. Rain poured down. I had no umbrella, no money, didn’t even have my shoes on properly. I ran barefoot through the storm for what felt like forever before finally flagging down a taxi. When I reached the facility, Oliver had already been rushed into the emergency room. “What happened? What’s wrong with Oliver?” I grabbed the nurse’s hand, trembling uncontrollably. The nurse sighed. “This afternoon, a Miss Reed came to visit him. We don’t know what she showed him, but the patient suddenly lost complete emotional control, triggered severe stress-induced heart failure, and… and mutilated both his hands.” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Yolanda! It was Yolanda again! I rushed into the hospital room and saw the floor covered with twisted, bloody drawings Oliver had made. Every single one screamed silently. I collapsed in the pool of blood, my heart so broken I couldn’t even cry. I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and dialed Ethan’s number. Once, twice, three times… no answer. Oliver needed to be transferred. He needed the top specialists for consultation. All of this required Ethan’s approval, required the Pierce family’s resources. I had one last option. I called Ethan’s special assistant. “Miss Hayes, Mr. Pierce is currently on a yacht celebrating Miss Reed’s birthday. He’s given strict orders not to be disturbed by anyone.” The assistant’s voice was ice-cold. “Please, just let me speak to him for one second! Oliver is dying. He needs to be transferred to another hospital. Please!” I stood outside the emergency room, desperately pleading into the phone. After a moment of silence, Ethan’s impatient voice finally came through. “Sienna, what game are you playing now?” Hearing his voice, I grasped at that sliver of light. “Ethan, Oliver is dying! Yolanda went to provoke him. He went into heart failure and destroyed his hands! Please help me. Send a helicopter to get him to the best hospital. I’m begging you!” I could hear Yolanda’s sweet laughter in the background, probably cutting cake. Ethan’s voice instantly turned arctic. “Sienna, there’s a limit to how much you can lie. Yolanda has been with me all day. How could she possibly have gone to the facility? Are you so desperate to ruin her birthday that you’d even curse your own brother’s life?” “I’m not lying! Check the surveillance footage! Ethan, this is a human life!” I screamed hoarsely, my throat filled with the taste of blood. “Enough!” Ethan cut me off brutally. “Oliver going crazy is his own problem. Since he destroyed his own hands, he’s just a useless wreck now anyway. I don’t have time to deal with your mess.” The call ended mercilessly. I stared blankly as my phone screen went dark. Useless wreck. My brother was a genius who had been driven to this, step by step, by them! Just then, the emergency room light went out. The doctor emerged, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Hayes. We did everything we could. The patient… didn’t make it.” I didn’t cry. I slowly stood up and watched as they wheeled out Oliver’s body, covered with a white sheet. I pulled back the sheet and looked at his pale face and his hands, which he had bitten until they were mangled beyond recognition. “Oliver, don’t be afraid. I’m taking you home.” I gently stroked his ice-cold cheek. My heart, in that moment, died completely. Not even ashes remained.

Sienna POV On the luxury yacht Ethan had chartered for Yolanda, lights blazed and elegantly dressed guests mingled. Yolanda wore that starry gown, nestled against Ethan’s side, accepting everyone’s blessings and envious gazes. I shoved the banquet hall doors open with force. The cheerful music cut off abruptly. Every eye turned to me. I wore a thin windbreaker soaked through with rain and mud, barefoot, the soles of my feet covered in bloody cuts. The moment Ethan saw me, his expression darkened sharply. “What are you doing here?” Ethan strode over, trying to block everyone’s view, and hissed quietly in fury. “Didn’t you embarrass yourself enough last time? Get out of here!” I ignored him. I stared hard at Yolanda hiding behind him. “Yolanda Reed, what did you show Oliver this afternoon?” My voice was eerily calm. Yolanda flinched and clutched Ethan’s sleeve tighter. “Ethan, I’m scared… She looks like a lunatic…” “Sienna! I told you, Yolanda was with me all day!” Ethan grabbed my wrist, squeezing hard enough to shatter bone. “Where’s security? Drag her out!” I laughed. I wrenched my hand free from Ethan’s grip and pulled a blood-stained phone from my pocket. It was Oliver’s phone. Inside was a video Yolanda had sent him. In the video, Yolanda threw Oliver’s original artwork into a fire pit one by one, burning them while telling him in the most vicious language: “Your sister has been used up by Ethan. She’ll be thrown out of the Pierce family soon. You idiot, you do nothing but drag her down. These garbage drawings of yours are only good enough to be my stepping stones.” I held the phone screen up to Ethan’s face. “Ethan, look closely. This is the kind, fragile woman you’ve been protecting with your life!” Ethan’s gaze fell on the screen. His face instantly darkened. He turned to look at Yolanda. Yolanda panicked. Tears immediately started falling. “Ethan, it’s not like that! That autistic boy went crazy first and tried to hit me. I just got upset and scared him a little… I really didn’t…” “Scared him?” I advanced step by step. “Do you know that because you ‘scared’ him, he went into heart failure? He’s dead! Yolanda Reed, you killed my brother!” The entire room gasped. Ethan’s body went rigid. He looked at me in disbelief. I pulled a sharp knife from my sleeve and lunged straight at Yolanda. “You’re going to pay for his life!” Yolanda screamed and dodged. In that critical moment, Ethan instinctively stepped in front of Yolanda. With a sickening sound, the blade slashed Ethan’s arm. Blood immediately gushed out. I froze. I stared at the blood on the knife’s edge, then at how Ethan had protected Yolanda without hesitation. Suddenly, it all seemed laughably absurd. “Have you lost your mind?!” Ethan snatched the knife from my hand and shoved me violently to the ground. I crashed hard onto the cold marble floor. My bones made a dull thud. “Oliver is dead because he had bad luck. What does that have to do with Yolanda?” Ethan looked down at me from above, his eyes utterly devoid of warmth. “You actually dared to pull a knife and try to kill someone on my turf because of some autistic kid?” “Bad luck?” I lay on the floor, tilted my head back to look at him, and finally let the tears fall. “Ethan, it wasn’t bad luck. It was meeting you! You enabled Yolanda. You personally cut off his path to survival!” “Send him for cremation. I’ll cover the funeral expenses.” Ethan cut me off impatiently and turned to order the security guards. “Take Sienna back to the western suburb villa. Lock her in the basement. Without my permission, no one is to let her out. When she learns to apologize to Yolanda, then she can eat again!” I didn’t struggle. I let the security guards drag me away. I watched Ethan anxiously check whether Yolanda had been hurt, watched him cradle that murderer in his arms protectively.I closed my eyes and told myself: Ethan, this is the last time I’ll cry for you. From now on, we’ll never see each other again.

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One month before the wedding, Lucas gave my wedding venue to his first love, Serena. He even said, “Her grandfather is dying. He wants to see her married before he goes. I’ll marry her first.” Serena also sent me a taunting text: “I’ve already worn your wedding dress. Tonight, on your wedding night, I’ll sleep with your man first too.” The attached photo showed her in my custom wedding dress, lying on our marriage bed. Seven years as his fiancée, and I didn’t even have the right to wear my own dress. I had to give it to someone else. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I calmly posted online: “Wedding canceled. Looking for a new groom. Anyone interested?” A call came in immediately. It was my lifelong rival, Theodore Holt. “Elara, marry me.” Elara’s POV The wedding was just a month away. But inside the VIP room of the wedding planning company, Lucas and I sat in deathly silence. It started with a call from Serena. After that, Lucas made an absurd decision. He wanted to give her the island chapel and the wedding date we’d spent a year preparing. “Serena’s grandfather is dying,” Lucas said. “His last wish is to see her get married. She found a fake fiancé just for the ceremony, and she urgently needs a venue and a date. We can have our wedding anytime. But she can’t wait. His voice was cold. Clinical. Like he was talking about rearranging furniture. Looking at this man I’d loved for seven years, I felt chilled to the bone. “That’s our wedding date. That’s the venue I’ve always dreamed of. Don’t you think it’s ridiculous to give it to another woman?” Lucas frowned, a flash of impatience crossing his eyes. “Elara, since when did you become so heartless? It’s a dying man’s last wish. Have you no compassion?” My eyes burned, but I held back my tears. This wasn’t the first time. Ever since Serena came back, Lucas kept pushing his boundaries further. When Serena was afraid of the dark, he left me with a fever in the middle of the night to stay with her. When Serena was upset, he canceled our anniversary to cheer her up. And now, even our wedding had to be given away. Seeing my silence, Lucas directly took the venue transfer agreement from the table and signed his name. “I have things to do. I need to go to the hospital to see her grandfather. You should calm down on your own first.” With that, he turned and left without a second thought. Watching his retreating figure, I suddenly realized that over seven years, I’d always been watching his back. In college, Lucas was the finance department’s golden boy. I gave it everything I had to become his girlfriend. I thought I was special. Then Serena appeared. And I understood that the place beside him was never meant for me. My phone buzzed. A text from Serena. She sent a photo. Lucas sat by a hospital bed, head down, peeling an apple for her. His face held a tenderness I’d never seen. The caption read: “Thanks for lending me Lucas and the wedding venue, Elara. Grandpa is so happy.” I felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. Lending? Since when could you lend out a fiancé? I suddenly felt tired, that bone-deep exhaustion instantly drowning me. For Lucas, I’d sacrificed too much, given up my dignity, and in the end, I was ruthlessly abandoned right before the wedding. Since he didn’t cherish this relationship, I didn’t want it anymore either. I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, photographed the canceled wedding plan on the table, and posted it on Instagram, blocking Lucas. “Wedding canceled. Now I want a new groom. Anyone interested?” After posting on Instagram, likes and comments quickly appeared below, most thinking I was joking. I didn’t reply. Just as I was about to lock my screen and leave, a phone call suddenly came in. A name flashed on the screen: Theodore Holt. I froze. Theodore was my childhood enemy. Our family backgrounds were similar, and we’d fought from kindergarten through high school. Later, to chase Lucas, I resolutely stayed in this unfamiliar city and lost contact with Theodore. Our only recent interaction was when I posted my wedding dress fitting photos on Instagram a while ago, and he left a mocking comment below: “Terrible taste. Can you not marry him?” I was so angry at the time that I ignored him. When I answered the phone, before I could speak, a man’s deep, magnetic voice came through without a trace of jest. “Elara, if you want a new groom, how about me?” The air fell into dead silence. I gripped my phone, my fingertips turning white. “Theodore, don’t joke about this kind of thing.” “I’m not joking.” Theodore’s voice carried unprecedented seriousness. “We’ve known each other for so many years. We’re very familiar with each other. Since you want to change, I’m the best choice.” After a long silence, I spoke hoarsely. “Alright. What are your conditions?” “Only one condition. Change my contact name to ‘Husband.’ And whatever other wives can give their husbands, I want too.” My eyes welled up, tears nearly falling. I thought I’d be mocked, but I never expected that at this moment, the one catching all my embarrassment would be my former enemy. “Okay.” “Give me half a month. I’ll handle things here and then come back to New York to find you.” After hanging up, the first thing I did was change Theodore’s contact name to “Husband.” Looking at the contact name on the screen, a mocking smile curved my lips. Lucas, since you could give away even our wedding for Serena, then I’ll get a new groom.

Elara’s POV Over the next few days, Lucas didn’t come home. I calmly contacted relatives and friends, taking back all the invitations I’d sent. My friends were shocked. “Why the sudden cancellation? Haven’t you two always had a good relationship?” My tone was flat. “I’m getting a new groom.” No one took it seriously, after all, everyone knew how shamelessly I loved Lucas. Three days later, Lucas finally came back. His eyes showed exhaustion, his shirt was wrinkled, and seeing me in the living room, he said casually, “Serena’s grandfather passed away last night. She’s emotionally devastated. I need to stay with her these next few days. As for the wedding, let’s talk about it later.” He thought I would make a scene and had already prepared his excuses. However, I just nodded lightly. “Got it.” Lucas froze slightly but didn’t continue asking. He turned and went into the bathroom. After washing up, he changed into clean clothes and said to me, “Serena is very vulnerable right now. I’ll take you to see her, and you can comfort her.” Looking at Lucas, I found it laughable. But I didn’t refuse. I wanted to see what other disgusting things they could do. When we arrived at the Ashford villa, as soon as we entered, I heard a delicate sob. “Lucas…” Wearing a plain white dress, Serena flew like a bird straight into Lucas’s arms. Lucas immediately reached out to catch her steadily, his movements practiced as if he’d done it many times. He coaxed her softly, his eyes showing gentleness and patience I’d never received. “Don’t cry. I’m here with you.” I stood to the side, watching this tender scene with cold eyes. My heart was surprisingly calm. I guess when a heart is truly dead, even jealousy has nowhere to live. Serena finally seemed to notice me. She pulled away from Lucas’s arms and apologized, her eyes red-rimmed. “I’m sorry, Elara. I was so upset. I couldn’t help it. Please don’t blame Lucas.” “It’s fine.” My tone was completely flat. “You two continue.” Lucas frowned, somewhat dissatisfied with my cold attitude. “Elara, can you show some compassion? Serena just lost a relative.” I couldn’t be bothered to respond and turned to sit on a nearby sofa. For the next two hours, Lucas stayed by Serena’s side. I was like a ghost, quietly watching their performance. It wasn’t until Serena’s emotions stabilized that Lucas walked over to me, his tone carrying an unquestionable command. “Elara, there’s one more thing I need to tell you. Hand over the Starlight project at the company to Serena.” I jerked my head up, my eyes finally showing emotion. The Starlight project was a core project I’d pulled countless all-nighters for and attended countless business dinners to secure. Lucas had promised that once the project landed, I would become the company’s design director. “Why?” I asked coldly. “Serena’s in a terrible state right now. She needs a project with a sense of achievement to distract her and rebuild her confidence. You’re capable and will have more opportunities later, but Serena needs this now.” Lucas spoke naturally. I laughed bitterly. “To rebuild her confidence, you’re going to take away my achievements? Lucas, what do you think the company is? What do you think my hard work is?” “Elara, stop making a scene!” Lucas’s face darkened. “It’s just one project. Do you really need to be so petty about it? I’m the company president. I’ve already decided this.” Looking at his cold face, my heart completely died. “Fine.” I stood up, my gaze as calm as stagnant water. “I’ll give her not just the project, but my job too.” Lucas froze. “What do you mean?” “I resign.” I dropped this sentence and walked out of the Ashford house without looking back. Lucas didn’t chase after me. He probably thought I was just angry. However, he didn’t know that this time, I truly didn’t want him anymore.

Elara’s POV The next day, I showed up at the company on time and slapped my resignation letter on Lucas’s office desk. Lucas didn’t even glance at it. He threw the resignation letter directly into the trash, his tone cold and hard. “Elara, there’s a limit to throwing tantrums. I said giving the project to Serena is temporary. Do you have to cause me trouble at a time like this?” I looked at Lucas, my eyes clear and resolute. “Lucas, I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’ve already sent the handover list to HR. I’m leaving today.” With that, I turned back to my desk to pack my things. My colleagues watched me leave with a cardboard box, all showing shocked expressions. After all, everyone knew I was Mr. Gray’s loyal follower, and for Lucas, I would give up even my life. I didn’t explain. Holding the box, I walked out of the building where I’d worked for five years. The sunlight was blinding, but I felt unprecedentedly relaxed. Over the weekend, my friends organized a party. I didn’t want to go, but thinking I’d soon be leaving the city, I decided to say goodbye. I’d just sat down in the private room when the door opened and Lucas walked in with Serena. Serena wore a haute couture dress with a dazzling pink diamond necklace around her neck. The moment I saw that necklace, the room fell silent, everyone’s eyes turning to me. That necklace was what Lucas had bid for at an auction six months ago. At the time, he’d said in front of everyone that it was a wedding gift prepared for me. But now, the necklace was around Serena’s neck. My friend Sophie was furious. She stood up abruptly and demanded, “Lucas, what’s the meaning of this? Wasn’t that necklace the substitute wedding ring you were giving Elara? Why is it around her neck?” Lucas’s expression didn’t change. He said calmly, “Serena liked it, so I lent it to her for a few days. It’s just a necklace. I’ll buy Elara a better one later.” “Lent?” Sophie sneered. “You can even lend out wedding gifts. Lucas, why don’t you just lend her the groom’s position too!” “Sophie, watch your words!” Lucas’s eyes were cold as he instinctively shielded Serena behind him. Serena immediately teared up, pitifully tugging at Lucas’s sleeve. “Lucas, I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was Elara’s wedding gift. I’ll return it to you…” As she spoke, she pretended to unclasp the necklace. “No need.” Lucas held her hand, his gaze coldly sweeping toward me. “Elara isn’t that petty.” I sat in the corner, watching this farce, feeling only nausea in my stomach. I stood up, picked up the wine glass in front of me, and walked over to them. Lucas thought I was going to get angry, his brows furrowing. “Elara, don’t embarrass yourself here.” I laughed lightly, my wrist turning as I splashed all the red wine from the glass onto Serena’s dress. “Ah!” Serena screamed and hid in Lucas’s arms. “Elara, are you crazy!” Lucas was furious. “It’s just a necklace. If it gets dirty, it gets dirty.” I casually threw the empty wine glass on the table, producing a crisp shattering sound. “Lucas, take your trash and get out of my sight.”

Elara’s POV After splashing the wine, I left the private room without looking back under everyone’s shocked gazes. Just as I walked out of the restaurant, a sharp pain suddenly shot through my abdomen. My face instantly turned pale, cold sweat pouring down. I clutched my stomach, the pain so intense I could barely straighten up. It was acute appendicitis. I’d had irregular meals while working on that project, and the symptoms had been building for a while. I just hadn’t expected it to flare up at this moment. With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and instinctively dialed Lucas’s number. After all, in this city, he was the only one I could rely on. The phone rang for a long time before being answered. An angry voice came through. “Elara, what do you want now? Do you know Serena was so scared by you that she almost had a heart attack!” “Lucas… my stomach hurts so much. Could you… take me to the hospital…” My voice was so weak it was barely audible. The other end fell silent for a moment, then Serena’s weak moan came through. “Lucas, my chest hurts so much…” Lucas’s voice immediately became anxious. “Serena, hang in there. I’ll take you to the hospital right away!” Then he said coldly to me on the phone, “Elara, if you’re going to fake being sick, find a better time. Serena’s in bad shape right now. I don’t have time to play along with your act. Take a cab yourself!” The call was ruthlessly disconnected. I leaned weakly against a lamppost, my phone slipping to the ground. The severe pain made my vision go dark, but what hurt more was that completely dead heart. This was the man I’d loved for seven years. When I was in so much pain I was about to die, he abandoned me for another woman. My vision gradually blurred. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, a black Maybach suddenly stopped in front of me. The car door opened, and a pair of long legs stepped out. “Elara!” A familiar, anxious voice rang in my ears. I forced my eyes open and saw Theodore’s stern face. How could he be here? Before I could figure it out, Theodore had already scooped me up and put me in the car. “To the nearest hospital! Hurry!” Theodore shouted at the driver, then turned to hold me tightly, his voice trembling slightly. “Elara, hang on. I’m taking you to the hospital.” Breathing in the crisp cedar scent on him, my taut nerves finally snapped, and I completely lost consciousness. When I woke up again, I found myself lying in a VIP hospital room. The anesthesia hadn’t completely worn off, and the wound throbbed dully. By the bedside, Theodore was peeling an apple with his head lowered. He wore a well-tailored suit, though his tie was somewhat disheveled, and his eyes showed faint red veins, clearly having gone without sleep all night. Hearing movement, he looked up. Seeing me awake, his cold, hard features instantly softened. “You’re awake? Does it still hurt?” I shook my head, my voice hoarse. “How did you end up here?” “If I hadn’t come, was I supposed to watch you die on the street?” Theodore snorted angrily, cutting the peeled apple into small pieces and bringing them to my mouth. “I wanted to come early and surprise you, but the surprise almost turned into a shock. Elara, your taste is truly terrible. You actually liked that trash for so many years.” I lowered my eyes, not refuting. Yes, he was right. “But it doesn’t matter.” Theodore put down the apple and reached out to gently ruffle my hair, his tone domineering yet gentle. “From now on, your life belongs to me.”

Elara’s POV I stayed in the hospital for three days. Lucas didn’t call even once. Looking at the empty chat interface, my heart remained unmoved. I completed the discharge procedures. Theodore wanted to take me back, but I refused. “Give me one last bit of time. I need to give myself closure.” Theodore looked at me deeply but didn’t force me. “Alright. I’ll wait for you downstairs. When you’re done, I’ll take you home.” I returned alone to the apartment where Lucas and I had lived together for five years. The moment I opened the door, I froze. At the entrance sat a pair of unfamiliar women’s slippers. Several pink coats were thrown on the sofa. The table was covered with various imported snacks and medicine bottles. The air was filled with a sickly sweet perfume scent. Serena’s favorite. The bedroom door opened, and Lucas came out carrying a glass of warm water. Seeing me, he frowned slightly, his tone carrying a hint of reproach. “Where have you been these past few days? You didn’t even send me a message. Are you still throwing a tantrum?” I didn’t answer. My gaze moved past him to look at the master bedroom. Serena, wearing my pajamas, walked out from the master bedroom. Seeing me, she immediately put on a frightened expression. “Elara, you’re back. I’m sorry. The pipes in my apartment burst, and Lucas was afraid I’d be scared alone, so he let me stay here temporarily.” She paused, then added, “I thought the master bedroom bed was most comfortable, so Lucas gave me the master bedroom. Elara, you don’t mind, do you?” I looked at the new pajamas on Serena that I hadn’t even worn yet, then at Lucas’s matter-of-fact expression, and suddenly felt utterly disgusted. “I don’t mind.” My tone was frighteningly calm. “If you two like it, take it all.” Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. He thought I finally understood him. “I’m glad you understand. Serena’s health isn’t good. Sleep in the guest room these next few days and don’t disturb her.” I ignored him and walked straight into the guest room, pulling out my suitcase. I started packing. Clothes, skincare products, documents… anything that belonged to me, I packed into the suitcase piece by piece. Lucas stood in the doorway, watching my actions. “What are you doing? Packing to go where?” “Moving out.” I didn’t look up. “Elara, haven’t you had enough!” Lucas finally lost his temper, slamming his hand on my suitcase. “Serena’s only staying temporarily for a few days. Do you really need to be so petty about it? You didn’t use to be this small-minded!” I stopped, looked up, and stared at him coldly. “Lucas, do you think that no matter how much you trample on my boundaries, I’ll stay by your side like a dog?” Lucas avoided my gaze. He didn’t dare look directly at me. “I didn’t trample on your boundaries. I’m just helping someone in need!” “Is that so?” I laughed lightly, forcefully pulling back my suitcase. “Then take good care of her. I wish you two the best together forever.” I zipped up the suitcase, took off the diamond ring Lucas had given me when he proposed, and casually tossed it on the table. “Lucas, we’re breaking up.”

Elara’s POV The diamond ring landed on the glass table with a crisp sound. Lucas looked at that solitary ring, his pupils contracting sharply as he reached out to grab my wrist. “Elara, make yourself clear! What do you mean, breaking up? We’re getting married soon!” I dodged his touch, my eyes full of disgust. “Getting married? To whom? To the you who gave away the wedding venue to someone else, or to the you who put the substitute wedding ring around someone else’s neck?” “I told you that was temporary!” Lucas gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead. “Why do you have to make a scene at a time like this? Serena has depression. She can’t handle stimulation!” “She can’t handle stress, so I’m the one you humiliate?” My voice was low but firm. “Seven years, Lucas. I cooked for you. I worked for your company. I gave up my own future in New York. I thought I could reach you. But I was wrong. It’s not that you don’t have a heart. You just gave it all to Serena.” “I didn’t!” Lucas refuted in a panic, but his rebuttal seemed so pale and weak. “You know the truth in your heart.” I pulled my suitcase and walked out without any reluctance. Serena stood in the living room. Watching this scene, she cried pitifully. “Elara, don’t go. It’s all my fault. I’ll move out right away…” “Shut up.” I looked at Serena coldly. “Put away that nauseating act. It’s revolting. This house, this man. I find them both dirty. I’m giving them to you.” With that, I pushed open the door and strode out. The door slammed shut with a bang, blocking out Lucas’s stunned face and Serena’s fake crying. Downstairs from the apartment, Theodore leaned against the car door, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. Seeing me come out with my suitcase, he immediately put the cigarette away. He strode forward and naturally took the suitcase from my hand. “All cleaned up?” he asked in a low voice. “Yeah.” I took a deep breath of the outside air, feeling even my breathing become smoother. Theodore looked at my resolute face, a satisfied arc curving his lips. He opened the passenger door and helped me into the seat. “Let’s go, Mrs. Holt. We’re going home.” The car smoothly left that neighborhood, speeding toward the airport. This time, I truly flew out of Lucas’s world and would never look back. Three hours later, the plane landed at New York airport. I pushed my suitcase out of the terminal, looking at this city I’d left seven years ago, my eyes slightly warm. I was finally back, back to the place that truly belonged to me. Theodore walked beside me, his tall, upright figure blocking the surrounding crowd for me. He glanced at me, deep tenderness hidden in his eyes. “Back to your place first, or come with me somewhere?” I paused. “Where?” Theodore didn’t answer. He just smiled mysteriously and pulled me onto the Maybach that had been waiting outside. Half an hour later, the car stopped in front of a solemn, dignified building. Theodore was actually taking me to register our marriage! “Really?” I turned to look at Theodore, my voice trembling slightly. Theodore unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned close to me, his warm breath spraying on my ear. “Elara, I never joke. Since I promised to marry you, I don’t want to wait even one more second.” He looked at me steadily, his eyes showing undisguised aggression and determination. “I’ve prepared all the materials. Now, you have one last chance to back out.” I looked at this man before me. He didn’t have Lucas’s coldness and calculating nature, only full sincerity and determination. I took a deep breath, unbuckled my seatbelt, and pushed open the car door. “Back out, and you’re a coward.” Theodore laughed softly, caught up, and took my hand firmly. When we completed the registration, I was still a little dazed. Had I really just married myself off like that? Theodore looked at the marriage certificate. His eyes were practically smiling. The caption was just one simple sentence: “I’ve finally married the one I love.”

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The thunderstorm came suddenly, trapping me under the office building. Ethan Quinn rushed over with an umbrella, but it tilted without hesitation toward the girl beside him. “Sophia’s shoes can’t get wet. Wait here for a bit. I’ll take her to the car first, then come back for you.” I watched his shoulder getting soaked. The scene was so familiar. Years ago, he would’ve gotten himself completely drenched just to keep the umbrella entirely over me, afraid I’d get touched by a single raindrop. “Don’t bother.” I slipped off my heels and tossed them into a nearby trash can. “Mr. Quinn’s umbrella is too small to cover two people. Don’t strain yourself.” I walked barefoot into the pouring rain. Behind me, Ethan called out. “Violet!” I didn’t turn back. The rain pounded painfully against my soles. The pebbles on the ground dug into my feet. I’d been pampered since childhood. As a kid, I’d cry for hours just from stepping on seashells at the beach. Ethan knew this better than anyone. He used to laugh and say my feet were only meant for carpets, that they couldn’t endure any hardship. But today, even though he saw me abandon my shoes, his first instinct was still to tilt the umbrella toward Sophia White. When I got home, I was dripping water everywhere. My mom was coming down from upstairs. When she saw me like this, her face immediately darkened. “Who did this?” “Who did it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve figured things out.” I bent down to get my slippers. My sole had been scraped raw in one spot, and it hurt to step down. Ethan used to get anxious over small injuries like this, as if they were major incidents. In senior year when I twisted my ankle, he carried me on his back for two blocks to the hospital, then cut up and threw away the shoes that had hurt me the next day. Looking back now, I realized a man’s devotion could have an expiration date. I’d just finished my shower when my phone rang. I thought Ethan had finally remembered me. When I answered, his first words were, “Violet, Sophia got caught in the rain and her shoes are wet. Do you have any new clothes you haven’t worn? I’ll have my driver come pick them up.” I said nothing. “Violet Smith, did you hear me?” I laughed. “I heard you.” “Why don’t you send her my unused boyfriend while you’re at it?” I hung up immediately. The next second, Ethan sent me a message. “Stop being passive-aggressive. Sophia is timid and can’t handle you acting like this.” My mom sat across from me and spoke slowly. “Are you going to continue with this?” I didn’t play dumb. “No. I’m done.” She nodded, as if she’d expected it all along. “You and Ethan grew up together. Your father and I always thought that even if he wasn’t the brightest, he would at least treat you sincerely. Turns out we misjudged him.” I bent down to apply medicine to my foot. The alcohol stung sharply when it touched the wound, making my hand tremble. My mom took the medicine from me. “Move back home tomorrow. Your father bought that wedding apartment for you anyway. No need to let someone else benefit from it.” I hummed in agreement. That apartment had been decorated before Ethan and I got engaged. I’d picked the living room sofa, the dining table, even the dishes in the kitchen—I’d carried them back piece by piece from business trips. Back then, I felt marriage was close, and Ethan was close too. Only now did I realize that being close doesn’t mean you won’t drift apart. At one in the morning, Ethan called again. “Are you still throwing a tantrum?” “No.” “Sophia just got a fever. She’s been blaming herself, saying she shouldn’t have bothered me to pick you up. Come by tomorrow if you’re free and tell her not to overthink it.” I almost thought I’d heard wrong. “I’m supposed to comfort her?” “Violet, she was scared today too.” “She was scared, so I have to make her feel better?” Ethan was silent for two seconds. Then he said, “You weren’t this petty before.” I hung up on him. Early the next morning, I had the driver take me to the wedding apartment. I’d only planned to grab a few clothes. But when I opened the door, I saw a pair of soaked white sneakers in the entryway. There was half a cup of warm milk on the table. And Sophia White, wearing my pajamas, sat in my usual spot, looking up at me timidly. “Violet, don’t misunderstand…” Ethan walked out wearing an apron, holding freshly baked bread. “Good timing.” “Sophia had a fever last night, so I let her stay over.”

The pajamas Sophia wore were ones I’d bought for my birthday last year. I’d washed them once but never worn them. The rabbit-fur slippers on her feet were also mine. Even the cup in her hands—the small chip on the rim—I’d accidentally made that myself. Everything was mine. “Violet, I’m sorry.” Sophia immediately stood up, her voice soft. “Ethan said you had lots of clothes, so I just grabbed something. I’ll wash it and return it.” What really disgusted me wasn’t that she wore my clothes. It was Ethan standing there, accepting all of this as reasonable. I pushed my suitcase inside and said flatly, “No need to return it. You can have everything.” Sophia froze. Ethan frowned. “Violet, don’t be so cutting.” I smiled slightly. “I’m generously giving things away. Isn’t that gracious enough?” Ethan set the porridge on the table, his expression unpleasant. “You know Sophia is sensitive right now. Why do you have to be like this?” I didn’t bother arguing. I went straight into the bedroom to pack. Several dresses were missing from the closet. I didn’t ask. The perfume I used regularly on the vanity had been opened. The engagement venue catalog in the nightstand drawer had been rummaged through messily. As I packed, Ethan followed me in. “Why are you taking so much stuff?” “I’m moving out.” “Just because of one night?” I zipped up my suitcase and finally looked at him. “Ethan, do you think that as long as you say ‘Sophia isn’t feeling well’ or ‘Sophia is timid,’ I should give up everything?” He looked stunned. Then quickly frowned again. “I didn’t mean it like that.” “But everything you do means exactly that.” As I reached the door, Ethan suddenly spoke. “Tomorrow night is my mom’s birthday. Don’t make a scene.” I paused. “Don’t worry.” “I’ll be more dignified than anyone.” Mrs. Quinn’s birthday—in previous years, I’d picked the gifts, ordered the cake, even reviewed the guest list for them. The Quinn family had been close to ours for years. Everyone in our circle knew that this future daughter-in-law cared more than their actual son. Mrs. Quinn used to hold my hand and say with a smile, “When Ethan marries you, he’ll be so blessed.” Looking back now, that blessing was probably wasted. That afternoon, Ethan sent me the birthday party itinerary. His last message read: “Sophia is meeting so many elders for the first time. She’ll be nervous. Don’t target her later.” I read it and tossed my phone aside. Julia Brown had just come over to drop something off. She couldn’t help cursing. “Is he sick? You’re not even married yet, and he’s already setting rules for you on behalf of the other woman?” “Not the other woman,” I corrected her. “I’m not married yet. At most, I’m the one who got cut in line.” Julia laughed at my comment, then felt sorry for me. “Are you really just going to let this go?” “Let what go?” I looked down, selecting earrings. “Storm into the Quinn house and make a scene? Or grab Ethan and ask when he became this disgusting?” Julia fell silent. She knew better than anyone how Ethan and I had gotten this far. Sophomore year, when the Quinn family ran into trouble and their funds dried up, Ethan stayed up every night with bloodshot eyes. Afraid he’d collapse, I transferred all the money from my account to him. Later, my dad pulled the Quinn family out of trouble for my sake. Back then, Ethan held me and said he’d never let me lose in this lifetime. Yet just a few years later, he made me lose to a “timid” Sophia White. That evening, I’d just changed into my dress when Ethan called again. I didn’t answer. He called persistently three times. Finally, I picked up, and he got straight to the point. “Where did you put that emerald necklace you prepared for my mom?” “Sophia’s dress tonight has an open neckline. I want her to wear it.” That necklace was left to me by my grandmother. I’d been willing to give it to Mrs. Quinn as a birthday gift because I thought we’d soon be family. But now, Ethan wanted to give it to Sophia White to wear. When I didn’t respond, he sounded impatient. “Violet, don’t be difficult right now.” I slowly removed my earring, looking at myself in the mirror. “Ethan.” “Yeah?” “I’ll give your mom a big gift tonight.” “What do you mean?” I smirked. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

When I arrived at the Quinn house, most people were already there. As soon as Mrs. Quinn saw me, she smiled and waved. “Violet, come here. I thought you weren’t coming today.” I handed her the gift box. “It’s your birthday. Of course I’d come.” Mrs. Quinn pulled me to sit down, looking very pleased. “You’re always so thoughtful.” I didn’t respond to that. Because the next second, I saw Sophia White. She wore a light pink dress, standing next to Ethan. The dress was a limited edition I’d ordered last month. Ethan had said it was too expensive and not worth it, so he didn’t let me buy it. Even more ridiculous—she wore a thin diamond necklace around her neck. Not my emerald. But it was also something I’d left in the apartment drawer. Halfway through dinner, someone at the table started teasing. “Ethan, when are you and Violet getting married? We’re all waiting to attend your wedding.” Mrs. Quinn smiled and chimed in. “Soon, soon. After they finish this busy period.” I was about to speak when Sophia suddenly stood up to toast everyone. She got nervous, her hand shook, and she spilled wine all over her dress. Her eyes immediately reddened. “I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy…” Ethan immediately got up to grab napkins and crouched down to wipe her hem. One of the aunts at the table laughed meaningfully. “Oh my, Ethan really cares about this girl.” Another person glanced at me and deliberately said, “Violet has always had quite a temper. Hope she doesn’t overthink things.” Before I could speak, Sophia hurriedly waved her hands. “No, no, Violet’s been very good to me. Last time I wore her pajamas, she didn’t even get upset.” This one sentence was more clever than her deliberately reddening her eyes or pretending to shake. One phrase—”didn’t even get upset”—put me on the spot. If I minded, I was petty. If I didn’t mind, she’d continue occupying my things while playing innocent. Ethan also looked at me, saying quietly, “Violet, it’s my mom’s birthday today.” That phrase again. As if that one sentence meant I should endure everything. I picked up my bag and headed straight upstairs. Ethan’s lowered voice immediately followed. “Violet, where are you going?” “To get a gift.” I didn’t look back. I knew the Quinn family study well. When Uncle Quinn traveled for business, I’d help organize where documents were kept and where spare keys were. Ethan always said that after we got married, with me managing the house, he could relax. Looking back now, I really had made things too easy for him. So easy that he thought I’d never leave. After entering the study, I first took out a document folder from the drawer. It was a supplementary agreement my dad had asked me to pass to Uncle Quinn last month. I hadn’t looked at it carefully then. Last night when I moved out, my mom reminded me. Inside, it clearly stated—the thirty million our Smith family had given the Quinn family as working capital was lent on the condition of our engagement. If the engagement was called off, the money had to be returned within seven days. I’d just come downstairs with the document folder when Ethan was already waiting at the staircase. He was barely containing his anger. “What exactly are you trying to do tonight?” “Give a big gift.” “Stop this.” “Am I causing a scene?” I looked at him. “Since I walked in, have I smashed any glasses or flipped any tables?” I walked around him and returned to the dining room. Everyone at the table looked at me. I placed the document folder on the table and pushed it in front of Uncle Quinn. “Uncle, Auntie, today is your birthday. I didn’t want to bring this up on this occasion. But if I don’t say it now, I’ll look too oblivious.” Mrs. Quinn’s smile stiffened slightly. “Violet, what’s wrong?” I took out a ring from my bag and gently placed it on the table. Ethan had bought it for me last year, saying he’d officially propose this year on my birthday. Ethan’s expression changed instantly. “Violet!” I ignored him, looking only at Mr. and Mrs. Quinn. “I’m calling off this marriage.” “Also, regarding the money our Smith family previously gave the Quinn family, according to the agreement, please return it by next week.” Mrs. Quinn’s knife and fork clattered onto the table. Ethan was the first to react. He grabbed my wrist. “Have you lost your mind?” “Ethan.” I pulled my hand free bit by bit. “The one who’s really lost it isn’t me.” “It’s you, still thinking I’ll keep standing in place waiting for you to choose.”

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The day before the wedding, a hotel booking confirmation from my fiancé Ethan arrived on my phone. I thought it was a pre-wedding surprise he’d planned for me. But shortly after, his childhood sweetheart Leah posted a photo on Ins of them kissing passionately, with the caption: “Missing you before was my biggest regret. If I still have a chance, I want to tell you—I do.” After I caught him cheating, Ethan didn’t explain. He just sent me a message: “We need to prepare for the wedding tomorrow. Get some rest early tonight.” Seeing that message, bitterness filled my heart. What was I to him, really? A consolation prize? My eyes welled up as I looked at the carefully decorated room, feeling nothing but irony. I took a deep breath, swallowed the bitterness, and replied. “Let’s not get married. Let’s break up.” Ethan didn’t respond to that message. I fought to suppress the sadness inside and threw the wedding dress I’d carefully prepared onto the floor. Ethan was only thirty but already a professor at a prestigious university. In everyone’s eyes, he was handsome and talented. Many people thought I was marrying up, and even before the wedding they’d advise me to be content and become a virtuous, sensible wife. But cheating was something I could never tolerate. After deciding firmly to break up, I sent my mom a message. She was shocked. After a long silence, she said: “Alright. As long as you’ve made your decision, I’ll support you.” That night, I packed my bags and left home, checking into a hotel. Two days later, Ethan suddenly found the hotel where I was staying. His refined face showed deep fatigue, and his ink-black eyes stared straight at me. “Have you calmed down yet?” His voice came out dull and hoarse. I snapped back to reality and looked at him coldly. “Mr. Hayes, what do you want from me?” “Emily, stop making a scene. I’m really tired lately.” He seemed to soften his tone, his eyes clearly showing exhaustion. I let out a cold laugh. Of course he was tired—juggling two women would exhaust anyone. “What does that have to do with me?” I responded coldly. Even looking at him one more time felt like it dirtied my eyes. I turned to leave after saying that, but he grabbed my wrist. The moment his warm palm touched my wrist. I jerked my hand away like a startled bird and glared at him angrily. “Don’t touch me!” Ethan’s body trembled slightly as he looked at me in surprise. He opened his mouth as if to say something. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. We’ve already broken up. Please show some respect!” “Emily.” His tone grew heavier, tinged with displeasure. “I couldn’t find you on the wedding day. You wouldn’t answer your phone or reply to messages. I’m already exhausted dealing with this mess. Can’t we just talk this through properly? Why does it have to come to this?” “Talk about what? About how you had sex with another woman? Sorry, I’m not interested.” Ethan’s eyes were pitch black, his expression so dark it could drip water, his voice cold. “Things between her and me aren’t what you think.”

“I don’t care what your relationship is anymore.” His tone softened a bit. “Emily, let’s go home and talk. My parents are still waiting for you at home.” Thinking of his parents, I felt somewhat guilty. Ethan’s parents were completely different from him. Uncle Richard was kind and pleasant to talk to, and Aunt Claire was gentle and beautiful. They’d always been good to me, never mistreated me, sometimes even treating me better than they treated Ethan. With something like this happening, they must be feeling awful too. Fine. This matter needed to be settled anyway. I didn’t object. I let him take my suitcase and walk into the elevator. I followed him to his parents’ house. Before we even entered, I heard his mom saying, “Go buy some mangoes quickly. Emily likes mangoes.” “Sure thing, I’ll go right now,” Richard replied. Richard came to the door and paused when he saw us, then his face broke into a kind smile. “You’re back. I’m going to buy some fruit. I’ll be right back.” I smiled awkwardly, unable to say what I’d come to say. Claire was still busy in the kitchen. Hearing our voices, she rushed out. “Emily’s back! Rest on the sofa for a bit. Dinner will be ready soon.” Her face was full of smiles, as if my runaway bride act had never happened. My guilt deepened. But that wouldn’t shake my determination to break up. I responded and sat on the sofa, stiffly staring at the blank TV screen. Ethan poured a glass of water and placed it in front of me. “It’s not your first time here. Why so nervous?” I kept my eyes straight ahead and said blandly, “Because this isn’t my home.” Then I added coolly, “Not the first time, but it will be the last.” Ethan gripped the glass tightly, his fingertips turning white, his thin lips pressed into a straight line, as if deliberately restraining something. At that moment, the doorbell rang. Ethan got up to answer it. His childhood sweetheart Leah’s cheerful voice came from outside. “Ethan, what’s cooking at your place? It smells amazing.” As she finished speaking, she changed shoes and walked in with practiced ease. She clearly froze when she saw me, her lips stretching into a strained smile. “Oh, Emily’s here too.” My cold gaze swept over her, pausing when I noticed the slippers she was wearing. Her slippers were cute pink house shoes with little bears. What a coincidence—they matched the blue bear slippers on Ethan’s feet that didn’t suit his image at all. They were a pair. I smiled mockingly to myself and swallowed all the words I wanted to say.

Soon, it was dinner time. Claire, as always, was taking care of my feelings, worried I wouldn’t relax. She even asked Ethan to peel shrimp for me. Ethan’s eyebrows furrowed at this, his resistance plain to see. He never ate these kinds of shellfish—partly because it was too much trouble, and partly because he genuinely disliked them. The same scene had played out before when I visited. Back then, he’d looked puzzled and asked, “Why would you eat something so troublesome?” I’d already felt uncomfortable at the time, and hearing that, I immediately gave up on eating the shrimp. I could only lie and say, “No need, I don’t like shrimp.” Even now, he hadn’t changed his attitude. He looked at the shrimp on the table with obvious disgust. I smiled faintly and grabbed a pair of disposable gloves to put on. “No need, Claire. I can peel them myself.” The smile on Claire’s face gradually froze. She shot him a displeased glare, then smiled and told me to eat more. Leah bit her lip, her gaze drifting meaningfully toward the shrimp. “Emily, you’re so good at peeling shrimp. I love eating them too, but I don’t know how to peel them.” Hearing this, I calmly looked at the peeled shrimp in my hand and casually put it in my mouth. “Really? There are tutorials online. You can check them out.” Leah smiled awkwardly. Ethan looked at me with disapproval. He methodically put on disposable gloves, picked up a shrimp, and began peeling it while gently teaching her peeling techniques. Watching this scene, I suddenly felt like laughing. If his parents weren’t here, I didn’t know how many harsh words I’d say. Claire’s expression changed dramatically. She covered her mouth and coughed heavily several times. “Don’t play favorites. Take care of Emily too.” Ethan glanced at me sideways and reluctantly peeled one for me. It was quite intact, but I’d lost my appetite. From that point on, I didn’t eat another shrimp. The one he placed in my bowl, I never touched either. I acted as if I hadn’t seen it and smiled. “Thank you for having me.” “However, there’s something I need to make clear. Ethan and I have already broken up. I’m sorry, Richard and Claire. I’ve let you down.” Richard and Claire froze. Ethan clenched his fists, staring at me in silence. Instead, it was Leah whose eyes reddened as she asked weakly, “Emily, Ethan treats you so well. Why do you insist on breaking up? Can’t you stay together?” Seeing her act so innocent, I almost couldn’t keep down the food I’d just eaten. My expression turned especially ugly. I smiled faintly and asked back, “Don’t you know the reason?” “Emily!” Ethan interrupted me sharply. His expression was grim, his face full of displeasure. “I already told you, I only see Leah as a sister. Stop being unreasonable.” Leah’s expression changed, unable to maintain her smile. I looked up at him calmly, suddenly feeling tired. I slowly stood up and said softly, “Thank you for having me. Next time I’ll treat you to dinner. I just remembered I have some things to handle, so I’ll leave first.” Claire was a reasonable person who could tell the atmosphere was off. She stood up reluctantly. “Alright then. I made some mango mille-feuille cake. Take it home with you.” Afraid I’d refuse, she hurried to the kitchen to pack it for me. After leaving Ethan’s house, I dragged my suitcase and took a cab home. I hadn’t been back for two days. The hallway was clean, showing no trace that wedding preparations had been made here.

The apartment I rented wasn’t far from Ethan’s place. He’d asked me to move in with him before. I couldn’t bear to give up this place I’d paid for annually, so I never agreed. Thinking about it now, I realized this was one of the few right choices I’d made. My best friend Sophie found out I’d moved back and rushed over with her child. “Emily, there’s something I’m really curious about. How did you find out he went to that boutique hotel with someone else?” I was playing with toys to entertain the little one when I heard her question. My smile faded. “I used his phone to book a hotel before and entered my number. Last time I forgot to change it back.” That careless mistake completely woke me from the beautiful dream I’d been weaving. “Unbelievable. He looks so decent on the outside, but what he does is worse than trash. Good thing you found out before the wedding. If you’d discovered this after getting married, that would’ve been even more disgusting.” Sophie had always been someone who loved and hated boldly, never holding back when cursing people out. My gloomy mood lightened considerably thanks to her counsel. “Don’t worry. You’re beautiful and capable. You’ll meet an even better man!” I smiled brightly, agreeing with her words. After adjusting my mood, I returned to work at the company. Colleagues who knew I was getting married during this time saw me come to work and expressed their congratulations. Seeing their happy smiles for my sake. A warm current flowed through my heart. After the joy came a wave of melancholy. Who would have thought I’d returned to being single again? “Emily, you’re not planning to start trying for a baby now, are you? Everyone knows the manager position is practically yours. If you choose family at this point, it won’t be worth it.” During lunch break, a colleague wheeled her chair over to sit beside me, speaking quietly. I’d actually struggled with this dilemma before—unwilling to give up the promotion opportunity right within reach, yet also unwilling to abandon the little family I’d just formed. But now, my problem had solved itself. “Don’t worry. I won’t have those plans for the next few years.” “Huh? Your husband won’t say anything?” I smiled calmly. “No one has the right to interfere with my decisions.” My colleague paused, then gave me a thumbs up and praised, “You’re really clear-headed. But you’re right—life is your own. No one has the right to boss us around.” Bitterness rose in my heart. If I’d really been clear-headed, I wouldn’t have waited until now to turn back. After that, I focused all my energy on work, deliberately avoiding everything related to Ethan. I discovered that when you really wanted to avoid someone, it was actually quite easy. For five consecutive days, I didn’t see Ethan. Just when I thought he’d given up, he showed up at my door. I was carrying groceries I’d just bought home. When I stepped out of the elevator, I saw a tall man standing by my door. Ethan held a bouquet of bright red roses. In his well-fitted suit, his superior figure was hard to ignore. I walked coldly to the door, wanting to unlock it. “Emily, let’s talk.” “What is there left for us to talk about?” I glanced at him indifferently. “Move. I need to go home.” “What I did before was wrong. I came to apologize.”

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My Alpha husband Orion’s first love, Beatrix, suddenly had a depression episode and committed suicide by arson. In his fury, he brought me—eight months pregnant—to the hunting grounds during the Hunt Festival and made me prey for the werewolves to chase. “If you hadn’t deliberately provoked Beatrix, why would she have had a depression episode and tried to kill herself by setting that fire?” I was still carrying our child. Through my tears, I admitted fault and begged him to spare me, promising I would never appear in front of Beatrix again. But he only shook his head coldly. “Seraphina, for the child’s sake, I won’t reject you.” “But the pain you caused Beatrix—I’ll make you repay it a hundred, a thousand times over!” After throwing me into the hunting grounds, he turned and left immediately. As more and more werewolves chased me like prey, I struggled and screamed in terror. During my escape, a rush of hot liquid burst from my body. Three days later, he finally remembered me, the one he’d left in the hunting grounds. “Seraphina, Beatrix is fine now. As long as you kneel before her and apologize, I’ll let you out of the hunting grounds.” What he didn’t know was that I had already died in the hunting grounds. Even the child he had longed for had been flung from my body during my escape and turned into a pile of bloody pulp…

“The doctor called me this morning and said Seraphina didn’t show up for her prenatal checkup. What kind of stunt is she trying to pull now to get my attention?” As Orion spoke, his brow furrowed tightly, a flash of disgust in his eyes. The old butler’s face went pale, and he said in a trembling voice, “Alpha Orion, Luna Seraphina doesn’t seem to have been released yet. And she’s eight months pregnant—what if something happened?” Orion waved his hand dismissively. “It’s just the Hunt Festival. Besides, I had the witch put a protective spell on her. The werewolves in the hunting grounds can’t actually hurt her—they’re just scaring her. I’m not really trying to kill her. It’s good for her to learn some fear. Maybe next time she won’t dare bully Beatrix again.” Hearing this, the old butler didn’t dare say more. But Leo couldn’t help interjecting, “But three days ago, at the start, Luna Seraphina was crying her heart out. Then later there was no sound at all. She’s still carrying your child—your own flesh and blood. Maybe you should go check on Luna Seraphina…” Orion’s expression instantly changed from understanding to contempt. “I knew it. Even her screams were fake. How could someone being chased by werewolves make no sound at all? Seraphina is as cunning and scheming as ever. If that’s the case, let her stay in the hunting grounds one more day. Tomorrow I’ll bring her to Beatrix to kneel and apologize, and then we’ll be done with this.” With that, he waved his hand to cut off Leo’s next words and walked toward the bedroom. Orion still thought I was in the hunting grounds. He didn’t know that I was actually already dead. After death, my soul automatically drifted to his side, and I couldn’t go anywhere except near him. At that moment, my soul floated in the air. I saw that in the bedroom, Beatrix was lying half-naked on my marital bed, her body still wrapped in burn bandages from her failed suicide attempt. Orion walked gently to her side. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and the next second he pressed his lips to her swollen ones. The person on the bed let out a soft moan and opened her eyes. She gently tried to push away the Orion on top of her. “Orion, this is your and Seraphina’s marital bed. Seraphina will be heartbroken if she finds out.” “And about what happened before, Orion—I just loved you too much. I thought if I died, Seraphina wouldn’t fight with you because of me anymore. I never meant for you to punish her for my sake. Why don’t I go apologize to Seraphina?” Beatrix bit her lower lip, looking sad and guilty. Sure enough, seeing Beatrix like this, Orion couldn’t hold back any longer. He set the porridge aside. His large hand roughly kneaded Beatrix’s chest as he flipped over and pressed her beneath him. “Beatrix, you’re just too kind. If it weren’t for you all those years ago, I would have died at the hands of those Rogues. When I think about how gentle and kind you are, and how Seraphina drove you to attempt suicide by fire, it breaks my heart. If there’s a next time, even if she’s carrying my child, I’ll make her pay with her life…” Orion kissed the minor burns Beatrix had from the fire, his eyes full of heartache. Yes, because Beatrix had saved Orion, Orion fell in love with her. Beatrix was also Orion’s first love. Orion, Beatrix, and I all attended the same werewolf academy. Back then, Orion was still the Alpha heir. In his school uniform, he was sunny and handsome. I’d had a crush on him from very early on. When I turned eighteen, I discovered that Orion and I were fated mates. I was so happy. Orion also agreed to date me, but I didn’t notice the confusion written all over his eyes at the time. Looking back now, Orion must have been sad about Beatrix breaking up with him and going abroad. I thought that after all these years together, and being fated mates, Orion would surely fall in love with me. But then Beatrix returned to the country, and I overheard Orion coaxing her, “I only married Seraphina because marrying a fated mate would help me become Alpha of the Ashpelt Pack. Deep down, I still love you, of course.” In that moment, I heard the sound of my own heart breaking.

My soul floated in the air, watching Orion and Beatrix have sex on my marital bed. The wedding photo on the nightstand shook. Looking at myself in the photo, so affectionate, and at the cold Orion. Only then did I realize that souls can cry too. But Orion, there won’t be a next time. Because… I’m already dead. At the time, I was so frightened I wanted to run away. He watched with his own eyes as I clutched my eight-month pregnant belly and fled like a headless fly. In the end, he ordered his guards to drag me back. Having lost his patience, before throwing me into the hunting grounds, he had the accompanying witch cast a spell on me. My body began to twist and deform. Antlers grew from my forehead, and brown fur covered my skin. I transformed into the shape of a deer. He waved his hand coldly. “Starting now, you’re the prey for the Hunt Festival.” I was pushed into the hunting grounds. The werewolves behind me caught the scent of prey, and their eyes began to glow red. I ran desperately, but my body, eight months pregnant, was unbearably heavy. The howling of wolves behind me grew closer and closer. I cried and told him I couldn’t run anymore. I begged him to save our child. He hesitated for a moment, but Beatrix, who had just been rescued, reminded him weakly from his arms, “I remember Seraphina’s due date isn’t for another week, right? But she does look really scared. Getting this frightened before it even starts—maybe we should just forget it. I’m fine…” The next second, Orion’s face filled with disgust. “Seraphina! You’re revolting. You’re even using our child as a bargaining chip to compete for favor. Stay in there and reflect on yourself!” In the hunting grounds, the cold wind made my teeth chatter. My stomach hurt more and more. I ran desperately. The werewolves behind me chased closer and closer. A werewolf pounced. Its claws tore through my hind leg. Blood gushed out. I fell to the ground, then struggled to get up again. Another werewolf charged. Its fangs sank into my shoulder. I screamed in pain, desperately shook it off, and kept running forward. Until a third werewolf pounced and slammed hard into my abdomen. Intense pain struck. A rush of hot liquid burst from my body. I looked down. Blood ran down my legs, and a tiny body fell from beneath me. I couldn’t even see clearly whether my child was a boy or a girl. The next second, the wolf pack behind me swarmed forward, fighting over that mass of flesh and blood. I screamed in anguish and lunged forward, trying to retrieve my child. But the werewolves knocked me aside. I could only watch helplessly as that tiny body disappeared in the werewolves’ struggle. My blood spilled onto the dirt of the hunting grounds, staining a large patch red. I stopped breathing amid my agonized screams. And what was Orion doing at that time? He had summoned the most authoritative werewolf doctors of the Ashpelt Pack, all to prevent the shallow burns on Beatrix’s arm from scarring. He bought countless roses and bid on globally unique jewelry to present to Beatrix, hoping only that his frightened white moonlight wouldn’t be afraid anymore. And when someone tried to report news about me to him, he impatiently interrupted, “Even if she died, she brought it on herself.” … “Alright, it’s almost her due date in two days. Bring Seraphina here to apologize to Beatrix. She’s been in the hunting grounds so long, she must be filthy. Have her wash up before coming.” Orion held Beatrix on his lap while working. Beatrix’s hand kept drawing circles on his chest. “Why don’t we just forget it? I believe Seraphina didn’t mean it. At the end of the day, I shouldn’t have come back. But I just wanted to be by your side. I really didn’t mean to make you two fight because of me.” Orion indulgently caught her wandering hand. “Beatrix, you’re my savior. Just for that alone, I’ll protect you forever. She’s my wife—she should be tolerant of you along with me. But instead she deliberately targets you every time, provoking you.” “I can’t even imagine—if the fire hadn’t been put out in time, I might never forgive myself for the rest of my life.” Hearing this, a flash of unnaturalness crossed Beatrix’s face. She shrank her neck and said nothing more.

A bitter smile escaped the corner of my mouth. Half a year ago, Beatrix’s fated mate died, so Beatrix, who had been staying abroad, suddenly returned home. Orion said she was alone and helpless. Without even giving me a heads-up, he brought her back to live with us. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I thought Beatrix had long since stopped liking Orion. I even felt sorry for Beatrix, an orphan, and took care of her in every way. Until one time, she poured a glass of red wine over her own head, then knelt down and begged me to leave her alone. After that, Orion started looking at me strangely. That day he wouldn’t listen to my explanation at all. He threw me in the confinement room and starved me for three days, warning me viciously, “Seraphina, you’ve disappointed me so much! Beatrix’s significance to me is beyond your imagination. If you target Beatrix again, even if you’re my wife, I’ll make you pay.” Things like this happened repeatedly after that. Orion’s gaze toward me grew colder and colder. Originally, I planned to ask Orion for a rejection after the child was born. But I never expected Beatrix would suddenly attempt suicide by fire. And the culprit behind her self-immolation was supposedly the abusive messages and vicious voice recordings I had sent her. Those words were indeed hard to accept, but they weren’t said by me. But Orion didn’t believe me. He felt so sorry for Beatrix that his eyes turned red. He didn’t even care about our soon-to-be-born child—he just wanted to vent his beloved’s anger. “Alpha Orion… Luna Seraphina, she seems to… seems to… You’d better go see for yourself.” Orion was startled. Then his face filled with impatience. “After all this time, she still dares to throw a tantrum?!” Beta Leo hesitated, but finally said with difficulty, “No, Alpha Orion. It’s Luna Seraphina. We found her, but… but she… doesn’t seem to be breathing…” Orion’s hand, which had been holding Beatrix, froze. After a few seconds of silence, he laughed dismissively. “Her methods of escaping punishment are getting more sophisticated. To avoid kneeling and apologizing to Beatrix, she’s even thought of playing dead?!” “Tell her that even if she dies, she has to apologize to Beatrix first! Otherwise, don’t blame me for being rude!” Cold sweat began to bead on Leo’s forehead. He wanted to say something more, but seeing Orion’s furious face, he ultimately withdrew. Beatrix lifted her head with an innocent expression. “Orion, why don’t we just forget it? Even though Seraphina doesn’t like me and makes things difficult for me everywhere, she is your wife after all. As long as I can stay by your side, I can endure it.” Orion held her even tighter. “Beatrix, you don’t need to be afraid of that petty woman Seraphina. She’s not worth a single strand of your hair. This time I have to teach her a lesson so she’ll behave in the future.” “But…” “Alright, listen to Orion. You can’t go wrong.” A teardrop fell on the back of my hand. Only then did I realize that at some point, tears were streaming down my face. So, souls can feel heartache too? Orion said nothing more, but during his next hour of work, he was constantly distracted. In the span of an hour, he inadvertently glanced toward the door no fewer than ten times. Finally, he slammed his laptop shut and irritably ran his fingers through his hair. Having completely lost his patience, he gently coaxed Beatrix, “Beatrix, I don’t know what kind of trick Seraphina is playing. I’m going to drag her here to apologize to you right now.”

Arriving at the entrance to the hunting grounds. He strode inside. Before he got close, he saw the dirt stained red with blood. The smell of blood in the air hadn’t yet dissipated. He covered his nose. “Why does it stink so much? What the hell is that woman Seraphina doing?!” Hearing this, cold sweat poured from Leo’s forehead. “Alpha Orion, maybe you should just see for yourself…” He stepped aside. Revealing me, covered by a white cloth, and a small white bundle next to it. Orion’s hand moved back and forth between the two white cloths. Before he knew it, his brow was furrowed in uncertainty. He seemed hesitant. I clutched my chest. Knowing what he was about to see, my heart ached unbearably, yet I couldn’t bear to look away. Finally, he reached his hand toward that small bundle. He had just lifted the white cloth when a sharp cry came from behind him. “Orion, why did you bring a dead cat corpse over here?! Did you forget? I’m allergic to cat fur! I hate stray cats the most!” Beatrix shrieked and burrowed into Orion’s arms. Orion’s panicked expression froze. He quickly seemed to come to his senses and kicked my child’s corpse away with one foot. He then ordered people to bring over several wild dogs. The beasts, smelling meat, swarmed forward. I screamed and lunged forward, but I couldn’t do anything. I questioned him frantically, bit and clawed at him, but it was useless. I was just a soul now. No matter how much pain I felt, no one could see it. But I truly wasn’t willing to accept this. What did I do wrong?! What did my child do wrong?! Looking at the ground full of scraps, a flash of malice crossed Beatrix’s eyes. Orion frowned. “Stop playing tricks. Where’s Seraphina?! Where the hell is she?!” “Driving Beatrix to attempt suicide wasn’t enough—now she’s using a dead cat corpse to scare Beatrix! I never knew she was so vicious!” “Seraphina! Aren’t you the one who values the child most? If you don’t come out, once the child is born, we’re getting divorced and breaking the mate bond! You can’t win custody from me! You’ll never see the child again for the rest of your life!” I sat dazed on the ground, crying and laughing. Yes, my parents were already gone. Orion had betrayed me too. What I valued most was this child. But he was killed by his own father, and in the end, not even his bones remained! Orion! You will definitely go to hell! He shouted angrily, demanding that I come out. But no one responded. Finally, Leo steeled himself and walked over. While slowly lifting the white cloth covering my corpse, he said tremblingly, “Alpha Orion, Luna Seraphina is right here! As for the child, you just fed him to the wild dogs…”

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When Ethan came home after his night shift, I set his favorite pasta on the table. I wanted to tell him that my mom had finally agreed to let us get married. But he tossed his car keys on the table and said wearily, “I got married.” “What?” I was confused. “I married one of the new nurses. She’s pregnant. I have to take responsibility for her.” My voice trembled. “Then what were these eight years I spent with you?” Ethan looked up at me and actually smiled. “As long as you’re willing, we can still be family.” I didn’t cry. I just picked up that bowl of pasta, walked to the kitchen, and dumped it in the trash. Ethan frowned. “Sophia, I just worked an all-night shift. I hate it when you give me the silent treatment like this.” I turned to look at him. “When did you two get the marriage license?” He rubbed his temples. “Yesterday at noon.” “Tara finished her night shift. City Hall wasn’t busy, so we just stopped by.” Just stopped by. Yesterday at noon, I was with my mom for her dialysis evaluation. She lay in the hospital bed, gripping my hand, saying, “Sophia, I’ve thought it through. If you’re really set on Ethan, then marry him.” I almost cried right then and immediately sent Ethan a message: “My mom agreed to let us get married.” He didn’t reply. Turns out he was at City Hall taking wedding photos with another woman. I asked, “Does she know about me?” Ethan was silent for two seconds. “Yes. She doesn’t mind. She’s young and insecure. She cried and said she didn’t want a wedding ceremony, just wanted to legally stand by my side.” I laughed. “Then after eight years with you, where am I supposed to stand?” Ethan looked up at me. “Sophia, you haven’t lost out these eight years. You’ve been living in my house rent-free.” I finally understood. His so-called compensation was letting me continue living here. Continue cleaning up after him, continue taking care of him. Just with my status changed from girlfriend to housekeeper. I went into the bedroom to pack my things. When I opened the closet, my hand froze. There was a row of unfamiliar women’s clothes inside. Pink sweaters, dresses, a nurse’s jacket. In the shoe cabinet was a pair of white sneakers. On the bathroom counter was a new bottle of face wash. On the nightstand was a thin hair tie. I picked it up and asked him, “She’s moving in?” Ethan stood in the doorway and said: “Tara can’t sleep alone in the dorm.” “So she’s sleeping in my bed from now on?” I took off the ring he’d given me and placed it on the table. It was a silver ring he’d bought the year he finished his hospital internship. He said once he became a doctor, he’d replace it with a diamond ring. Later, when he became a doctor, he said he’d buy me a ring after he bought a house. But now, he was married. I pulled out my suitcase. Ethan suddenly panicked. He wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Sophia, I don’t want to lose you. I’m just settling Tara in first. She can’t live without me. You’re different. You’re mature. You understand me.” Being held by him, I only felt nauseous. The doorbell rang. Tara stood at the door, her face small, her eyes red. She was wearing a men’s jacket. The one I’d waited in line for two hours to buy for Ethan last winter. “Ethan, I came to get my marriage certificate.” Then she looked at me and smiled. “Sophia, you’re here too.” I said nothing. She walked straight into the bedroom like she owned the place and opened my nightstand drawer. The marriage certificate was pressed under an old photo album. On top of the album was a letter. A letter my mom had written to Ethan. She’d just finished writing it yesterday and asked me to deliver it. The first line on the paper read: “Ethan, I’m entrusting Sophia to you from now on.” Tara picked up the letter and blinked. “Is this from your mom to you two? Sorry, should I not be reading this?” I reached out to take it. But Ethan grabbed it first. A corner of the paper tore. I watched him standing protectively in front of Tara and suddenly felt like this house was very unfamiliar. I’d lived here for five years. But now standing here, I felt like an outsider.

I forcibly snatched the letter back. Tara hid behind Ethan. Ethan’s face darkened. “Sophia, you’re emotionally unstable right now. Don’t go to the hospital tomorrow.” I looked at him. “I’m the head of the lab department. I don’t answer to emergency room doctors.” Tara’s tears fell instantly. “Sophia, I really didn’t mean to take what’s yours. I just love Ethan too much.” I laughed out loud. “Well, you sure know how to love—you loved your way right into someone else’s home.” Ethan lowered his voice. “Don’t be so harsh.” My phone rang. It was the dialysis center. “Ms. Walker, your mother is experiencing sudden chest tightness and unstable blood pressure. Please come immediately.” I grabbed my bag and left. Ethan instinctively followed. My heart actually relaxed for a moment. The next second, Tara clutched her stomach and crouched down. “Ethan, I’m dizzy…” “I didn’t eat last night. It might be low blood sugar.” Ethan stopped in his tracks. He glanced at me. “You take a cab first.” “I’ll take her to the ER. I’ll be right there.” I said nothing. As the elevator doors closed, I saw him pick Tara up in his arms. In the taxi, I called him three times. No one answered. At the hospital, my mom’s face was ashen. A nurse pushed a risk disclosure form in front of me. “Sign this. She might need emergency dialysis or even resuscitation.” My hand shook so much I couldn’t write my name. For eight years, Ethan always said, “Your mom is my mom from now on.” He said I didn’t need to be afraid. He said he’d handle everything at the hospital. But when the day finally came, I was the one signing. Outside the emergency room, I opened my phone. The first post on my feed was from Ethan. In the photo, he and Tara were holding up their marriage certificate. Caption: For the rest of our lives, please take care of me. Posted at the exact time I made my third call. A bunch of ER colleagues had liked it. Tara replied: “Thank you everyone! Ethan says he’s treating everyone to a big dinner tonight.” I stared at those words as my palms slowly went cold. When my mom woke up, her first words were, “Where’s Ethan?” I pressed my phone against my palm. “He’s treating a critical patient.” “Doctors are busy. I understand.” The family member from the next bed suddenly leaned over. “Isn’t your son-in-law Dr. Hayes? He got married, but the bride isn’t your daughter?” She shoved her phone in front of my mom’s face. I couldn’t stop her in time. My mom saw the photo and her breathing suddenly became rapid. The monitor immediately started beeping. I rushed out to call a doctor. Running to the nurses’ station, I saw Ethan. He was holding Tara’s hand, handing out wedding invitations to the ER staff. Someone teased, “Dr. Hayes, you kept this well hidden.” Tara blushed and leaned against him. Ethan saw me and frowned. His first words were: “How did you upset your mom like this?” I stood there, still clutching my mom’s critical condition notice in my hand. I threw the report in his face. “Ethan Hayes, where do you get the nerve?” The ER fell silent. Tara’s tears fell again. She said softly, “Sophia, don’t blame Ethan. It’s my fault.” Ethan pulled her behind him. “This is a hospital. Don’t make a scene.” I looked at the invitation in his hand and suddenly found it hilarious.

I didn’t make a scene. I just asked him in front of everyone: “What right do you have to blame me?” No one in the ER said a word. Tara leaned against Ethan, crying softly. Ethan lowered his voice. “Sophia, don’t interfere with work.” “You’re the one interfering with work.” “My mom is in the observation room, and you’re here celebrating your marriage.” Someone looked down, pretending to organize charts. Tara suddenly covered her mouth. “I feel sick…” The ER colleagues immediately started making noise. “Just got married and already pregnant? Dr. Hayes works fast.” Ethan’s expression changed. He immediately helped Tara up. “Let’s draw blood first and check.” My mom was still in the observation room. But he stayed by Tara’s side every step of the way for the blood draw. I stood at the lab window and watched him personally label the blood collection tubes. His movements were carefully precise and piercing to watch. She touched her belly, lowering her head with a smile. “I hope the baby grows up healthy.” Ethan said in front of his colleagues: “Once we have a child, I’ll give you a proper home.” I thought that sentence had nothing to do with me. Until that evening, when I returned to that house and saw an agreement on the table. Housing Arrangement Agreement. It stated: To facilitate Tara’s pregnancy, Sophia voluntarily moves out of the master bedroom. Holding the paper, I laughed for a long time. The down payment for that house was two hundred thousand dollars—money I paid. The renovation costs—I charged to my credit card. For years, I’d transferred three thousand dollars to Ethan every month for the mortgage. Only his name was on the deed. Because he said doctors could get loans more easily. He said, “Sophia, there’s no yours and mine between us.” Now he was making it very clear. The master bedroom for Tara. I even had to give up my bed. I asked, “What does this agreement mean?” Ethan sat on the couch. “Tara is pregnant. The master bedroom gets better sunlight. It’s better for the pregnancy.” I spread the agreement in front of him. “What about my two hundred thousand?” “What about the mortgage payments?” He frowned. “Eight years together, don’t make it sound so ugly.” Tara came out of the kitchen with a glass of water. She was wearing an apron, looking like the lady of the house. “Sophia, don’t worry. I won’t live here for free.” “I’ll give you eight hundred a month. Is that okay?” I almost laughed in disbelief. “Eight hundred?” “Are you joking?” I picked up the agreement and tore it up. Ethan suddenly grabbed my wrist. “If you keep this up, I’ll have to transfer your mom to a regular ward first.” I looked up at him. He continued: “And the dialysis scheduling doesn’t have to go through me either.” The room was very quiet. Tara stopped crying. She stood behind Ethan, looking down at me. Her expression was obedient. And also smug. I slowly pulled my hand away. “Ethan Hayes, you’re threatening me with my mom’s life?” He avoided my gaze. “I just hope you’ll calm down.” I nodded. “Fine.” “I’ll calm down enough to make you regret this.”

The next day, I went to the lab department as usual. The first thing I did when I entered the office was export all the transfer records I’d made to Ethan over the years. Including the expenses I’d covered when his father was hospitalized. And the chat records showing he’d been managing my mom’s medical files. I uploaded them all to the cloud, one by one. Ethan sent me a message. “Don’t make this bigger. Let’s talk tonight when you get home.” I didn’t reply. At ten in the morning, Tara came to the lab window. She handed me a blood test order. “Sophia, I’m pregnant. Can you expedite it for me?” The office instantly went quiet. I followed protocol and said, “Register, pay, and wait in line.” Tara’s eyes reddened. “Are you still mad at me?” I pushed the order back. “This is a hospital, not your living room.” She bit her lip and left. To avoid any conflict of interest, I personally handed the sample to a colleague for processing and recorded everything. At noon, the results came out. She wasn’t pregnant at all! Tara looked at the results and her face changed completely. Half an hour later, word came from the ER. Tara had abdominal pain and bleeding between her legs—suspected miscarriage. Tara appeared, supported by a nurse. Her face was pale, her hand covering her stomach. “Sophia, you can hate me. But the baby is innocent.” My colleagues looked at me differently. The director came over too. “Sophia, suspend your work for now and cooperate with the investigation.” I said, “Check the surveillance and the records.” Ethan interrupted me. “Tara miscarried because she was traumatized.” I looked at him: “How can someone who isn’t pregnant have a miscarriage?” Tara cried, trembling. Ethan threw a stack of documents in front of me. The papers scattered. They were notices about my mom’s dialysis deposit and bed adjustment applications. He looked at me coldly. “Kneel and apologize to Tara right now. I’ll make sure your mom can use the machine tonight.” Everyone in the department was watching me. My professional reputation. My mom’s life. My eight years of devotion. He compressed it all into one apology. I bent down to pick up the documents. At the bottom was a test order from another hospital. Tara had it done last week. It stated: No evidence of pregnancy. I looked up at him. His face finally showed panic. Tara screamed, “That’s not mine!” The next second, the director’s office door was pushed open. Someone from the hospital’s disciplinary office stood in the doorway. “Sophia Walker, regarding your suspected tampering with lab reports, please immediately accept suspension pending investigation.”

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It took twenty-four hours for a nurse to find my body. By then, I was a cold weight in a pool of my own blood, a piece of forgotten medical waste. On my tenth birthday, my parents left this world forever. From that day on, my brother threw me out of our home. He packed my life into a suitcase and sent me to a boarding school where I stayed for eight years. He didn’t just dislike me; he loathed the very fact of my existence. As I died on that operating table, I could hear him in the next room. His voice was a velvet caress, a comfort I hadn’t felt in a decade. He was telling Hailey, his adopted sister, not to be nervous. He promised he would save her. He didn’t mention that he was harvesting my brain—my life—to give to her. The last thing he ever said to me over the phone was: “What is it this time? Coughing up blood or another fake fainting spell? I’m warning you, unless you’re actually dead, stop bothering me.” Then, he hung up. 1 After I died, my soul remained tethered to my brother. I watched him, my tether, as he stood outside the Intensive Care Unit like a gargoyle carved from grief and anxiety. Hailey had been moved there after the surgery. Through the observation window, he stared at her pale, fragile face with a look of pure, agonizing devotion. “The next twenty-four hours will determine if the transplant was a success,” Dr. Whitmore said, stopping beside him to offer a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You’ve done everything a surgeon could do, Beckett. The rest is up to fate. If the best neurosurgeon in the state couldn’t save her, then no one could.” “By the way,” the doctor added, “your phone was blowing up while you were in the OR.” He handed the device back. Beckett unlocked the screen, saw the name flashing there, and his jaw tightened until the muscles jumped. It was my homeroom teacher. He held the button down to delete the notification, but the phone rang again immediately. “You should probably take that,” Dr. Whitmore suggested gently. “They’ve called a dozen times. Maybe something happened to Wren at school?” At the mention of my name, Beckett’s eyes flashed with a visceral, jagged hatred. “Something is always happening to Wren,” he spat. “She faints, she vomits blood—it’s a goddamn theatrical performance. Every time I show up, she’s fine. She treats me like a dog on a leash. If she were even half as decent as Hailey, I wouldn’t have had to cut off her tuition.” He gripped the phone so hard his knuckles turned white. “Don’t bring her up. Every time I hear her name, I see my parents’ mangled bodies in that wreckage.” I stood beside him, a transparent ghost, my heart aching with a familiar, hollow despair. Beckett, I wasn’t lying. I would never play games with you. I only took the suppressants before you arrived because I didn’t want you to see me fading. I didn’t want to burden you. From the day our parents died, the brother who used to tuck me in at night began looking at me like I was a murderer. After the funeral, he volunteered for a medical mission in the rural South. That’s where he found Hailey—a girl with a brain tumor and a family too poor to afford a bandage, let alone surgery. He brought her back to our house. He sent me to boarding school. From that day on, he had only one sister. He wouldn’t spare me a glance, yet he moved heaven and earth for Hailey. To fulfill his promise of curing her before her twentieth birthday, he spent years searching for a donor, even putting up his entire life savings as a bounty for a “willing” match. I knew this was my only path to his forgiveness. When I realized I was terminal, I signed the organ donation papers. I thought that if my death saved the girl he loved, he might finally stop hating me. Tears I couldn’t feel rolled down my ghostly face. Just before the call timed out, Beckett finally snapped and pressed ‘accept.’ “Hello? Is this Wren’s guardian?” the teacher’s voice came through, frantic. “She’s—” “I don’t want to hear it!” Beckett barked, cutting her off. “If she’s dead, call me to pick up the body. Otherwise, lose my number.” Beckett, usually the epitome of the calm, collected surgeon, only lost his mind when it came to me. Or Hailey. He treated Hailey like a second chance at penance—as if saving her would earn him a pardon from our parents’ ghosts. Dr. Whitmore, who had been a peer of our parents, watched Beckett’s rage with a look of deep concern. “Beckett, it’s been eight years. The plane crash wasn’t Wren’s fault. I watched that girl grow up alongside you. She is the only family you have left in this world.” “Dr. Whitmore, please,” Beckett said, his voice trembling with suppressed fury. “Don’t mention her again. My only priority is Hailey.” The senior doctor sighed and walked away. A nurse approached timidly. “Dr. Moore, your remaining clinic appointments for today—” “Cancel them all. I’m staying right here until she wakes up. I won’t leave her side for a second.” I felt a bitter smile touch my lips. I looked through the glass at Hailey. I was overwhelmed by a cold, sharp envy. I had donated my entire physical form, and it hadn’t bought me a single smile. She simply had to exist to make him abandon his principles, his patients, and his life. He used to be the kind of doctor who stayed late to see every single person in the waiting room. But for Hailey, the rules didn’t apply. Suddenly, Dr. Whitmore called his cell again. Beckett hit speakerphone without looking away from Hailey’s bed. “Beckett, I just saw Wren’s name on the hospital registry,” Whitmore said, his voice grave. “Did something happen?” 2 Beckett’s brow furrowed. I could see the fuse of his patience burning short. He glanced at the date on his phone, and his chest began to heave with jagged breaths. “Does she have no shame? Does she not know what day it is?” he hissed. “Tell her to get out. I don’t want to see her.” Today was my eighteenth birthday. It was Hailey’s nineteenth. And it was the eight-year anniversary of our parents’ death. “Beckett, this isn’t the visitor’s log,” Whitmore said, his tone dropping an octave. “It’s the inpatient list. Ask her if she’s okay.” “Or check your office,” Whitmore continued. “Whenever she comes to see you, she waits there. She’s a quiet kid; she wouldn’t tell you if she was hurting.” The dam broke. Beckett roared into the phone, “She’s been ‘hurting’ since the day they died! Every day it’s a new symptom, a new crisis, and every time I check, there’s nothing. I’m a doctor—do you think I can’t tell when someone is faking? Her face is yellow as cornmeal, and she doesn’t even have the decency to use the right foundation to hide the ‘sickness’ she’s pretending to have. I don’t know that liar. Stop talking to me about her!” On the other end, Dr. Whitmore sounded breathless with anger. “If you won’t ask, I will. You’re going to regret this, Beckett. If your parents were alive, they would never allow you to treat their daughter this way.” “Wren is no daughter of theirs!” Beckett screamed, his face a mask of fire. “She doesn’t deserve the name. As soon as Hailey wakes up, I’m taking her to the courthouse to legally put her on our family registry.” Dr. Whitmore sputtered, his voice thick with suppressed rage. “If your father were alive, you would be the one kicked out of the family. For eight years, you cut her off. Have you ever wondered how a young girl survives on her own? Have you ever looked in her dorm? She has more work uniforms for her three part-time jobs than she has school clothes! You’re a brilliant surgeon, Beckett, but as a human being, you aren’t worth the dirt under your father’s fingernails.” The line went quiet. Beckett’s eyes were bloodshot. He stood in the sterile hallway and screamed at the ceiling: “Don’t you dare bring them up! If it wasn’t for Wren, they would never have changed that flight! They wouldn’t be dead! I will never forgive her until the day she dies!” His words hit me like a physical blow, pinning me against the wall. A wave of exhaustion washed over my soul. I slid down the wall, burying my head in my hands. I had wanted to be like them. I wanted to be a healer. I worked three jobs to pay for the dream he stole from me. I studied by the light of streetlamps and worked double shifts, and the stress turned into a silent killer. Three years ago, I was diagnosed with liver cancer. I remember the day I tried to show him the report. I was trembling, my hand shaking as I held out the envelope. He didn’t even open it. He tore it into confetti and threw it in my face. “Wren, do you think if you pretend to be sick like Hailey, I’ll love you? In your dreams. If you bring me another fake lab report, I’m calling the police for fraud.” It was a report from his hospital. All he had to do was type my name into the system. I never mentioned it again. When I fainted at school, the teacher would call, and I couldn’t stop her in time. But don’t worry, Beckett. The calls are going to stop now. This time, I’m really gone. 3 My body lay on the cold steel of the operating table in the basement. Piece by piece, the parts of me not ravaged by cancer were being harvested. And upstairs, Beckett was still a sentinel at Hailey’s door. A nurse, hurried and harried, rushed past him toward the service elevator, but he caught her arm. “Wait, keep an eye on her for me,” he said, nodding toward Hailey. “Don’t leave for a second. If there’s a spike in her heart rate, page me. I’m just going to the restroom.” The nurse looked conflicted. “But the donor’s body… we need to prep for transport to the crematorium…” Beckett waved her off, frowning. “The donor saved my sister’s life. I’ll handle the final arrangements personally later. Right now, watch Hailey.” He walked away, glancing back three times, his heart visible on his sleeve. Half an hour later, he returned. It was shift change. The hallway was empty save for the skeleton crew. My body remained on that table, forgotten in the transition of paperwork. A young nurse ran up to him, holding a bag of takeout. “Dr. Moore, this was dropped off at the front desk for you.” Beckett pulled his gaze away from Hailey. He rubbed his tired eyes and saw Hailey’s name on the receipt. A warm, genuine smile broke across his face. “She’s an angel,” he whispered. “Even before surgery, she was thinking about making sure I ate.” There was a long note in the “special instructions” section. Beckett read it word for word, his eyes shimmering. [Big brother, if you’re reading this, the surgery must be over. Are you tired? Did you forget to eat again? I ordered this specifically for you. When I wake up, I’m going to make sure you take better care of yourself. You’re the most important person in the world to me!] Beckett wiped a tear with a napkin and ate the meal standing up. Just as he tossed the trash, Dr. Whitmore called again. “I found Wren’s room number. I’m sending it to you. Go see her. I’m stuck in a consultation.” The warmth vanished from Beckett’s face instantly. “What is she pulling now? Doesn’t she know I’m busy? Did she tell you to call me? If she’s not dead, tell her to crawl over here herself! I am not leaving Hailey until she’s out of the woods!” He gripped the phone, his voice shaking with resentment. “Dr. Whitmore, I call you ‘Uncle’ out of respect for my father. But look at the difference. My biological sister does nothing but cause trouble while I’m trying to save lives. My adopted sister, while facing death, orders me dinner because she’s worried I’m hungry. Do you honestly still think Wren deserves a place in this family?” He slammed the phone shut. It was the first time he had ever truly defied his mentor. And once again, it was because of me. Don’t worry, Beckett. When you finally find out, you’ll never have to be angry again. 4 Beckett glanced at the room number on his screen, his face hardening into a mask of ice. He deleted the message. On his way back from the trash bin, he passed the door to the room I had occupied. He paused for a fraction of a second. His lip curled in a sneer. “Drama queen,” he muttered under his breath. My heart—the ghost of it—leaped into my throat. Just turn the handle, Beckett. Just look inside. You’ll see I wasn’t lying. But he didn’t stop. The weight of his disappointment was so heavy it felt like lead in my soul. I followed him to the corner, where he stopped, breathing hard. Suddenly, he spun around. He marched back to my room and threw the door open with a crash. “Wren! Get out here!” he barked into the silence. There was no answer. He took two steps inside and saw the bed. It was half-stripped, the pillows neatly stacked, but the mattress was empty. Look closer, Beckett! Look at the nightstand! I left everything for you! I didn’t kill them… I swear I didn’t… But he had no patience for me. Seeing the empty bed was proof enough for him. He slammed the door so hard the frame rattled. Back in the hallway, he pulled me out of his block list. He took a deep breath and sent a voice memo, his voice vibrating with rage: “Wren, if you waste hospital resources one more time, I will have security drag you out. If you aren’t in your bed, you aren’t sick. You’re a fraud. I’m giving you twenty-four hours to check yourself out. If you don’t, never call me your brother again.” As the message sent, my phone—sitting on the pillow in that empty room—chimed softly. No one was there to hear it. Beckett returned to Hailey’s window. He seemed to remember something and texted Dr. Whitmore: [I checked. She’s not even in her room. You fell for her act again.] Inside the ICU, Hailey’s finger twitched. Beckett pressed his face to the glass, his eyes wide. When he saw her eyelids flutter, he forgot all about me. He pulled out his phone and started shopping—jewelry, a designer bag, things a girl her age would love. Then he opened a food app and ordered a strawberry cake, her favorite. He paced the hall, muttering to himself. “What else does she like? What else?” He snapped his fingers and ran toward his office. He grabbed his briefcase and pulled out the legal documents for the family registry—the ones he’d had prepared for months. He was running so fast he collided with the nurse who had been assigned to me. She looked up, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. “Dr. Moore! Your sister, Miss Moore, she—” “Not now!” Beckett waved her off, not letting her finish. He burst into Hailey’s room just as she opened her eyes. He let out a long, shuddering breath of relief. Then, his phone rang. It was the morgue coordinator. “Dr. Moore, your sister… the organ donor… she’s still on the table in OR 3. The staff just realized. We need you to come down and sign for the body. There are no other family members on file.”

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Everyone tells me I’m the luckiest man alive for marrying a woman like Margot. They see the devoted wife, the powerhouse CEO, the woman who stands by her husband’s bedside with red-rimmed eyes. They don’t know that those same hands—the ones currently smoothing my hair—are the ones that systematically destroyed mine. It happened the day the “prodigal son” returned. Margot’s eyes had been a manic, bloodshot red as she swung the heavy paperweight. She didn’t stop until my hands were a pulp of shredded skin and splintered bone. The sound of my own skeleton snapping is a rhythm that still plays in my nightmares. Her tears had fallen directly into the open, weeping wounds on my wrists. She kept whispering, “Don’t hate me, Gideon. Please, don’t hate me,” like it was a prayer that could undo the carnage. Afterward, she shifted into a terrifyingly efficient caregiver. She paced the hospital halls, barking orders at the nation’s top orthopedic surgeons, her voice trembling with a faux-desperate humility. “He’s the star of the cardiothoracic department,” she pleaded with the Chief of Surgery, her knuckles white. “Please, save his hands. I don’t care about the cost. Just make him functional again.” She stayed by my bed every hour of every day, a saint in designer silk, performing a tireless act of penance. “If you can’t hold a scalpel, Gideon,” she whispered one night when she thought I was asleep, “then Timothy can finally take his rightful place as the best surgeon in the country. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I’ll take care of you forever.” I didn’t even look at her. It was almost funny, in a dark, twisted way. She really thought that by breaking my hands, she could hand my talent to Timothy. She forgot one thing: Timothy was a hack. Even with me out of the way, he’d never be more than a shadow. 1 I kept my mouth shut. There was no point in arguing with a fanatic. For the next week, Margot cleared her schedule. She walked away from billion-dollar mergers to wash my face and spoon-feed me broth. I caught the nurses whispering in the hall, their voices thick with envy. “Gideon Wayne hit the jackpot with that woman. You don’t see devotion like that anymore.” I felt a cold, sharp laugh echoing in my chest. Was it guilt driving her? Or was it the thrill of the “compensation” she planned to provide for the rest of my crippled life? On the seventh day, her closest friend, Tinsley, came to visit. She dropped off a basket of overpriced fruit, offered a few perfunctory words of sympathy, and then pulled Margot toward the doorway. The room was deathly silent, making their “hushed” conversation vibrate against the walls. “Margot, you’ve pushed three major acquisitions for this. The board is breathing down your neck to get back to the office, and you haven’t slept in days.” “I can’t leave him yet,” Margot replied. “You love him, I get it,” Tinsley countered, her voice dropping. “But if you wanted to keep him home, a simple accident would have sufficed. Did you really have to go that far? To actually break the bone and tendon?” Margot’s voice turned icy, the warmth of the “devoted wife” vanishing instantly. “His hands had to be destroyed completely. It’s the only way to ensure Timothy’s seat at the top is secure. Gideon stole Timothy’s life, his legacy as the Wayne heir, and the prestige that comes with it. Timothy cares about that surgical chair more than anything. I’m just protecting what belongs to him.” Timothy. The pretender. The man who had occupied my place in the Wayne family for twenty years while I grew up in the back of a dusty laundromat with people who treated me like an unwanted chore. When the DNA tests finally revealed the truth and I was brought back to the Wayne estate, I was a scrawny, awkward kid with defensive eyes. Standing next to the polished, charismatic Timothy, I looked like a mistake. Margot had been the one to approach me. “The Wayne-Cross marriage pact was always intended for the true heir,” she’d said, taking my hand. “Now that the real Mr. Wayne is back, the engagement should return to its rightful owner.” I had been so moved by her, so desperate for a shred of genuine affection, that I swore I’d spend my life being worthy of her. Looking back, it was all a game. Timothy had probably pissed her off by choosing a year-long backpacking trip through Europe over their wedding date. I was just a pawn in their lovers’ spat. But then I worked. I studied until my eyes bled. I discovered I had a gift—a steadiness in my hands that Timothy never possessed. Within years, I was the one the medical journals were calling a prodigy. I became the “star” that outshone the original “sun.” If the tool becomes more brilliant than the master, it has to be broken. She couldn’t kill me; my parents were too consumed by “survivor’s guilt” for the years I spent in poverty. If I died, Timothy would be the first suspect, and he’d lose the Wayne inheritance forever. So, she took my hands instead. She wanted to turn me into a dull, quiet accessory. But she made a mistake. She thought a man who had clawed his way out of the gutters of a nameless town would just lie down and be slaughtered. “With the Wayne fortune and the Cross family backing him, he can spend the rest of his life as a wealthy socialite husband,” I heard her tell Tinsley. “It’s a good life.” That sentence stung worse than the fractures. My foster parents had treated me like livestock. To change my fate, I had worked two jobs at greasy diners while studying under streetlights. I had built a kingdom out of nothing, only for her to burn it down because Timothy felt insecure. I stopped listening. My mind, however, was clearer than it had ever been. This woman had to go. A few minutes later, Margot crept back in. She tucked the blanket around me with a touch as light as a feather. “Gideon,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of you forever.” You already ended me forever, I thought. Now it’s my turn. 2 Margot became even more suffocating as the days passed. She barely left my side, her phone tossed carelessly onto the nightstand, ignored. In a different life, I would have been moved. Now, I just felt the chill of the predator watching the prey. She wasn’t worried about my health; she was monitoring the damage. She was terrified I might recover enough to threaten Timothy again, or that I’d cut a deal with the doctors behind her back. I played the part. I was silent, passive, and let her do everything. I let her wash me, dress me, and watch every painful bandage change. The pain was a living thing—hot, throbbing, and visceral. But beneath the agony, my plan was taking root. A month later, the lead surgeon finally unwrapped the final layers. What lay beneath wasn’t a pair of hands. It was a twisted map of angry, purple scars and distorted joints. Margot’s eyes welled up. She dropped to her knees by the bed, clutching my lifeless fingers. “Gideon, I’m so sorry…” I looked at her, my stomach churning. You did this. You did this so a mediocre boy could play God in an OR. Timothy had been a “rising star” since he was nineteen, mostly because he had the Wayne name and the Cross money buying his way into research papers. He had five percent of the family company handed to him for simply existing. I, on the other hand, was the “Research Machine.” I was the doctor who never slept because I remembered the way my grandmother died of heart failure in a cramped apartment because we couldn’t afford the specialist. I didn’t want to be a trophy; I wanted to be a savior. When the Waynes brought me back, they admired my grit but didn’t know how to handle my intensity. Timothy had hugged me then, saying, “Brother, our research interests align. If you ever need help, just ask.” I believed him. I shared my data. I shared my theories. And he published them under his name while I was busy in the lab. When I found out, Margot had stepped in. She told me she’d use every resource her family had to make me the greatest surgeon in history. She promised me the top of the mountain. On our wedding night, her passion was frightening. I thought it was love. Now I realize I was just a tool she was using to make Timothy jealous, to punish him for leaving her. She played the perfect wife for two years. She helped me reach the peak. But now that Timothy was coming home from his “soul-searching” travels, she decided the mountain belonged to him again. I was being retired. But I hated being “kept” more than anything in this world. My foster parents had “kept” me like a dog. Margot wanted to keep me like a bird with clipped wings. 3 Timothy returned two weeks later. I saw it on the morning news. The hospital held a massive gala for him. The headlines were nauseating: The Return of the Prodigy: Dr. Timothy Wayne Back to Save Lives. The hospital gossip shifted instantly. The nurses who used to pity “poor Gideon” were now whispering that the “true master” had returned. “Gideon was good, but Timothy has that natural flair,” I heard one say. “I heard Margot was always supposed to be Timothy’s. Gideon just moved in while the seat was warm. Now the real drama begins…” Margot walked in just as the whispers died down. She snapped at the nursing station, her voice like a whip. “Is this a hospital or a tabloid office? If I hear my husband’s name in your mouths again, you’ll be looking for work in another state.” The hallway went silent. Margot entered my room, softening instantly. She sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t listen to them, Gideon. I love you. Only you.” I nodded slowly. I didn’t say a word. Her heart had never been mine. After we married, she used to love kissing my hands. I thought it was a fetish for my talent. Now I knew she was just measuring the threat. She pulled out a warm salt pack and placed it over my scarred knuckles. “The doctor says heat helps the circulation.” The door pushed open. It was Timothy. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, his hair perfectly tousled in that “effortless” way that cost two hundred dollars at a salon. He looked vibrant, tan, and utterly unburdened. His face went through a rehearsed series of emotions: shock, then devastating grief. He practically fell to his knees at the foot of my bed. “Gideon… brother. How did this happen?” His tears were perfect. They didn’t even ruin his bronzer. He looked like a tragic hero in a prestige drama. I looked at him and remembered Margot’s words: Only if you can’t hold a scalpel can Timothy be the best. Was he here to mourn me, or to verify the kill? “Brother, why won’t you speak?” Timothy sobbed. “Do you hate me for not being here to save you?” I shook my head. “I’ll do anything,” he continued, clutching the bedsheets. “I’ll spend every cent I have to find a way to fix this.” “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice raspy from disuse. He reached for my hand, but I flinched away. “You should go, Timothy.” His face flickered—a moment of genuine annoyance. “You’re kicking me out?” “Our parents miss you,” I said. That was his weak spot. He craved their adoration. Then his career. Then Margot. Margot walked him to the door. When she came back, she watched me carefully. “Gideon, Timothy had nothing to do with this. Don’t take your anger out on him. If you have to hate someone, hate me.” I gave a non-committal hum. She relaxed, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. Guilt? No. Just the satisfaction of a plan coming together. She didn’t want love; she wanted a husband who matched her stature, and a lover who made her feel like a queen. She wanted the “shining” version of Timothy, and she wanted me to be the silent, grateful ghost in the background. 4 After Timothy’s visit, Margot’s “devotion” hit a fever pitch. She flew in specialists from Germany and Tokyo. “I will fix this, Gideon. When you’re better, we’ll go to conferences together. I’ll be your hands. We’ll be a power couple.” She said it so often I almost started to believe the lie. I looked at her, finally speaking more than a sentence. “Margot, can you do me a favor? Can you look after Timothy? He’s my brother, and I don’t want him to struggle while I’m… like this.” I looked down at my mangled hands, letting my voice crack. “I can’t be the man he needs anymore. Or the man you need.” The joy in her eyes was almost obscene. She tried to hide it, but her smile twitched. “Whatever makes you happy, Gideon. I’ll do anything.” I looked her in the eyes. “If Timothy hadn’t gone on that trip, he would have been the one to marry you. Now I’m just a burden. I’m an embarrassment to you.” Margot’s face went pale. “Enough!” she snapped, then lowered her voice. “Gideon, don’t think like that. Timothy was a placeholder. I didn’t love him then.” Liar. If she didn’t love him, why did she break me for him? She knelt before me, looking like a lost child. “Please, believe me.” I just nodded. She let out a long, shaky breath, convinced that even though she’d ruined my life, I was still her loyal, pathetic lapdog. To fulfill her “promise” to me, she started spending more time with Timothy. She helped him prep for his return gala, accompanied him to high-society fundraisers, and soon, they were all over the tabloids. The CEO and the Surgeon: A Match Made in Heaven? The hospital gossip grew cruel. “He crawled his way into that family, and now that the real heir is back, he’s discarded like trash.” “He thought he could be a star. Look at him now. Can’t even tie his own shoes.” I stayed silent. I didn’t argue. The harder they hit now, the more they’d bleed later. On the day of my discharge, Timothy came to pick me up. Margot was at the Wayne estate, busy “decorating” a private wing for my recovery. “Gideon, my keynote symposium is next week,” Timothy said, helping me into the car. “You’ll come, right? It would mean the world to me.” “No,” I said flatly. Timothy’s eyes went red instantly. “Are you still blaming me because your hands didn’t heal?” I looked at him until he started to fidget. “Margot broke my hands, Timothy. She did it so I couldn’t compete with you. She did it to secure your ‘top surgeon’ title.” He froze. It wasn’t shock on his face. It was a terrifying, subtle ripple of triumph and ego. Before he could speak, I laughed. “I’m kidding. Why do you look so serious?” Timothy exhaled, a ragged, relieved sound. On the day of the symposium, the auditorium was packed with the elite of the medical world and every major news outlet in the city. I wasn’t supposed to be there. But as Timothy stood at the podium, bathed in a spotlight, I walked onto the stage. Timothy’s jaw dropped. I didn’t give him a second to recover. I hit the remote for the projector. The flashbulbs began to explode like gunfire. The room erupted.

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