Category: English

Three in the morning, and I was shivering in a police station. The officer across from me tapped his pen on the desk. “You’re a college student. So tell me again why you believe a food truck’s secret sauce is being made with… fluid from a corpse?” I stared at the cold steel of the handcuffs, catching the lingering scent of decay trapped under my fingernails. It was, without a doubt, the smell of death. The smell a human body weeps after it’s gone. 1 My family ran the oldest funeral home in the state since 1892. Grandfather used to say corpses develop two extra mouths—one for decay to enter, one for stench to escape. I grew up in the quiet halls of a funeral home, a childhood scented with formaldehyde and decomposing tissue. I’ve seen more of the dead than I have of the living. I grew up Even my last medical report noted it: Olfactory sensitivity, preternaturally acute. So, when my roommate, Lucy, shoved a carton of loaded fries under my nose, drenched in their famous, pungent sauce, I threw up on the spot. “Seriously, Mia?” she said, stabbing a sauce-laden fry and popping it into her mouth with a look of pure bliss. “This is from that viral spot in the food truck alley by campus. I waited two hours for this.” I wiped my mouth, silent. The smell was indescribable. It was like rotting fish gills scraped with a rusty scalpel. Identical to the drowning victim I’d prepared just last month. 2 To figure this out, I went with Lucy to the fries truck. A long line snaked from the front of the truck. I muttered, “Is it really that good?” Lucy was unfazed. “Told you. It’s an internet sensation.” Well, I was already here. I trudged to the back of the line, resigning myself to the wait. The owner worked fast, though, and we were at the front in just over an hour. As we got closer, the putrid smell of the sauce hit me like a wave. My stomach clenched, and a sour taste rose in my throat. Lucy, oblivious, grabbed my arm excitedly. “You have to try it this time.” I didn’t refuse, just gave a weak nod. 3 Fighting back my nausea, I studied the stall. It was a small, grimy food truck, its metal siding dented and dull. The owner was a middle-aged man with a perpetually simple, honest-looking smile. He worked with an expert rhythm, scooping golden fries into cartons and ladling on the thick, dark sauce, his movements almost unnaturally efficient. I decided to probe. “Hey, what’s in this sauce? It’s so… pungent.” The owner didn’t even look up, his hands a blur of mechanical motion. “Family secret. Passed down through generations.” I watched his face, trying to read something, anything, in his expression. But he kept his head down, busily adding toppings over the sauce. 4 “Business is booming,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Ever think about hiring some help?” A place this popular could easily afford another pair of hands. This time, he glanced up at me. “I manage just fine on my own. Can’t afford to hire anyone.” Lucy chimed in. “What about your wife? Or kids? Can’t they lend a hand?” The owner’s smile tightened slightly as he handed Lucy her order. “Here you go. Next!” The conversation was over. The person behind us was getting restless. “Hey, if you’re done, move it.” Lucy mumbled an apology over her shoulder and pulled me away by my sleeve. 5 We found an empty bench nearby. Lucy eagerly held a fry, dripping with sauce, to my lips. “Go on, try it. It’s best when it’s hot.” I grimaced but leaned in, taking a careful sniff. That familiar, unidentifiable stench instantly flooded my senses. This was absolutely not a normal food smell. Fermented or aged sauces could be pungent, yes, but they smelled of yeast, chili, or soy—of things that were meant to be eaten. But this… this was tainted with a faint but undeniable metallic foulness. It was closer to what I smelled at work every day. The smell of a corpse. 6 I instinctively covered my nose. “Don’t eat that,” I said, my voice sharp. Lucy just laughed, completely missing my tone. “Smells strong, tastes amazing. That’s the whole point.” “You and your super-sniffer nose,” she teased. “You just can’t handle intense flavors.” “No,” I said, pulling her closer. “It doesn’t smell strong. It smells like a corpse.” “Like crap?!” Lucy exclaimed, a little too loudly. Her voice, while not a shout, turned the heads of the people at the next table. The owner, who happened to be clearing a nearby trash can, shot us a cold, irritated look. “Watch your mouth, young lady.” Lucy, realizing what she’d said, clapped a hand over her mouth, her wide eyes pleading with me for help. I gave her a subtle shake of my head and whispered, “Let’s go. Back to the dorm. Now.” 7 I dragged Lucy away, grabbing the two half-eaten cartons as we left. She clung to my arm, her voice a nervous whisper. “You were serious, weren’t you? About the… you know.” Lucy knew my sense of smell was no joke. The possibility that she’d been eating something so vile was starting to sink in, and she was terrified. “We’ll talk in the dorm,” I said, my voice low. It wasn’t the place for this conversation. Even after we passed through the campus gates, I could feel a pair of hot, angry eyes burning into my back. Back in our room, Lucy opened one of the cartons and started eating again. “What are you doing?” I demanded, exasperated. “How can you still eat that?” Most people, upon hearing the word “corpse,” would have thrown the food into the nearest biohazard bin. 8 Lucy shrugged, her nonchalance forced. “I thought about it. A little dirt never hurt anyone, right? So what if it smells like crap?” “Besides,” she added, stabbing another fry, “look how many people eat it. It’s not just me.” She popped it into her mouth, the dark sauce smearing the corner of her lips. I recoiled, putting more distance between us. “Did you mishear me?” I asked. She chewed thoughtfully. “Didn’t you say it smelled like crap?” I pressed my lips together, fighting for patience. “I said it smells like a corpse.” Lucy’s chewing stopped. The food was stuck in her mouth, unable to be swallowed, unwilling to be spit out. She thought for a moment, her words muffled. “Which word did you say?” I answered calmly. “The kind with a ‘p’.” 9 This time, she lost it. She scrambled for the trash can and retched violently. “Mia, are you serious? Or are you just messing with me?” I looked at her with pity and shook my head. “I wish I were, Lucy. But it’s true.” Her face went ashen. She stuck two fingers down her throat, trying to force out every last trace. When she was finally done, her stomach empty, she looked up at me, her eyes red and tear-filled. “How… how can you be so sure?” she asked weakly. I had never told anyone that my family worked with the dead. It’s a taboo subject for most people. After a moment of silence, I decided to tell her a modified truth. “I have relatives who work at a morgue. The smell is exactly the same as the one in the holding rooms.” Her face twisted in a mask of agony. Whether she fully believed me or not, the seed of doubt was enough. “Oh god,” she wailed. “What about all the times I ate it before?” I patted her shoulder, offering what little comfort I could. “Don’t worry. All that is long gone, flushed down the sewer.” 10 Even though I was certain something was deeply wrong with that truck, I had no actual proof to report. The business continued to be a massive hit. Then, one day, as I was walking past the food truck alley, I saw a familiar figure in the line. At first, I didn’t believe it. But when she turned, I saw her face clearly. “Lucy?” She jumped, spinning around to face me, her mouth smeared with the dark, distinctive sauce. She looked down at the carton in her hand, then back at me, a deer caught in the headlights. “Mia,” she stammered. “What are you doing here?” A hot surge of anger went through me. I strode over, snatched the carton from her hands, tossed it into a nearby trash can, and dragged her back to the dorm. “You promised you’d never eat that stuff again!” 11 Lucy’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’m sorry, Mia, but I can’t help it. Nothing else tastes right anymore.” Tears streamed down her face, and her expression was one of genuine despair, not just guilt. I’d heard stories of certain substances being addictive. Could this sauce have a similar effect? This was bad. I looked at her, my voice firm but concerned. “Okay. From now on, I’m watching you. You are absolutely forbidden from going near that place again.” Lucy knew I was trying to help, so she reluctantly agreed. But after that, her appetite plummeted. She started losing weight at an alarming rate, and it was the unhealthy kind of thin. Her skin was sallow, with dark, bruised-looking circles under her eyes, and her lips were perpetually pale. She walked like she was wading through water, utterly drained of energy. 12 Finally, after two weeks of this, Lucy broke. “Please, Mia,” she sobbed, clutching my arm. “Just let me have some. Just one bite.” I turned away, unable to look at her. “No.” Her state was a clear sign of addiction, and this was the withdrawal period. If she could just push through it, she could beat it. Giving in now would mean starting all over again. I gently patted her back. “Just hold on a little longer, Lucy,” I said softly. “It’ll get better soon.” Lucy knew I wouldn’t budge. She gave a weak, defeated nod, too exhausted to argue anymore. 13 A month later, it all fell apart. It was 8:50 AM, and Lucy hadn’t gotten out of bed. We had a major lecture in ten minutes. I knocked on the frame of her bunk bed. “Lucy? You still not up?” She was on the top bunk, so I couldn’t see her clearly. I stood on my toes, but all I could make out was the back of her head. She was curled into a tight ball, completely unresponsive. This was strange. Today was a core class for her major; she never missed it. Was she sick? A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I scrambled up the ladder. 14 I gently shook her shoulder. Her brow was furrowed, her cheeks flushed an unnatural, feverish red, and her breath came out in hot puffs. Oh no, I thought. She’s burning up. I decided to get her to the campus clinic and pulled back her duvet. The moment the blanket came off, I gasped. Lucy’s neck and arms were covered in angry, pus-filled sores. They looked like they were about to burst. I didn’t dare touch her. My only option was to call for an ambulance. As her roommate, I rode with her to the hospital. In the ambulance, I overheard one of the paramedics mutter, “Not this university again.” Just as I was about to ask what she meant, the other paramedic shot her a sharp look, silencing her. 15 The hospital was in chaos. Apparently, a large number of students from our university had been admitted with the exact same symptoms. The situation was so severe it had even drawn the attention of the police. An officer glanced at Lucy, who was now lying in a hospital bed, and gestured for me to follow him into the hallway. The corridor was a whirlwind of activity, doctors and nurses rushing back and forth. “Has your roommate been acting strangely lately?” the officer asked. I shook my head. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” “Think carefully. Has she eaten anything unusual? Injected anything?” I froze, looking at him in disbelief. They suspected Lucy was… a drug user? 16 “Impossible,” I said, my tone firm. “But she might have eaten something bad.” The officer, who had looked bored and tired, suddenly straightened up. “Oh? Eaten something bad?” “Yes.” I told him everything I knew about the fries truck and its secret sauce. The officer’s hand, holding the pen, paused. “Do you have any proof?” I fell silent. I didn’t. A smell, a subjective experience, wasn’t evidence. “No.” “Without proof, it’s just speculation. We can’t get a warrant based on that.” Seeing that he wasn’t going to get any more useful information from me, the officer looked disappointed. “Alright, you can go for now. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.” 17 I glanced back at Lucy, an IV drip attached to her arm. I had no choice but to nod and leave. Back at the dorm, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, a sense of unease gnawing at me. So many students from our school were in the hospital, yet it hadn’t affected the fries truck’s business one bit. Over the next few days, I spent all my free time at the coffee shop across the street from the food truck, watching. I started to learn the owner’s routine. Every morning at 7 AM, he would arrive in a silver cargo van and park in the small alley behind the truck. He’d unload several large, heavy sacks of ingredients and carry them inside. For the next two hours, he’d prep in the back. At 10 AM sharp, he’d open for business. He wouldn’t close up until around 11 PM, when he would start cleaning. 18 I watched for days but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then, on the fifth night, I finally saw something. The coffee shop was about to close, and I was leaving, feeling dejected, when I saw the owner acting strangely. He peeked his head out from the back of the truck, scanning the alley nervously. When he was sure no one was around, he carried two large, dark bags to his van. The bags looked wet, glistening slickly in the moonlight. A cold dread washed over me. The image was sickeningly familiar, reminding me of the body fluid that sometimes seeped from the bags at the funeral home. He loaded the bags into his van and drove off. This was my chance. I couldn’t let it slip away. I waited until the coast was clear and slipped into the unlocked food truck. 19 I cautiously pushed aside the curtain to the back kitchen area, and after confirming it was empty, I stepped inside. Compared to the front counter, the kitchen was a sanitary nightmare. The floor was wet and sticky, and the damp walls were breeding grounds for black mold. A faucet dripped incessantly into a sink stained with the dark sauce. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. I looked around the small kitchen. Besides the filth, there was nothing obviously amiss. But wait. I tilted my head back and took a deep breath. There it was again—a faint but definite smell of rot. I followed the scent, moving slowly through the cramped space. My eyes landed on the side of a large metal cabinet. There, almost perfectly flush with the wall, was a hidden door. I gave it a gentle push, and it swung inward on a silent hinge. A thick, suffocating stench rolled out. I froze, gagging. 20 The room had an old-fashioned pull-string light. I tugged the cord, and a dim, yellow bulb flickered to life. The small chamber was filled with twelve large industrial-grade plastic drums, each sealed with a sheet of oiled canvas. I lifted the cover off the nearest vat. The smell of decay exploded outwards. A murky, foul-smelling liquid filled the vat. Floating within were chunks of what looked like marinating meat and vegetables—the base for the sauce, I guessed. But the stench… it was unbearable. My eyes stung, and I had to stand up and gasp for fresh air. Thankfully, my years of exposure to death had given me a high tolerance for such smells. Once I had calmed myself, I took out my phone and turned on the camera. This was why I had risked coming in here—to get evidence. 21 I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and plunged my hand into the murky liquid. Beneath the floating chunks of meat, my fingertips brushed against something else. Something soft. I froze. The texture was disturbingly similar to human skin. Just as I was about to pull the object out, I heard the sound of hurried footsteps from outside. Panicked, I slammed the cover back on the vat and dove behind a stack of them in the far corner. The light was dim; if I stayed still, he might not see me. The footsteps grew closer. My palms slicked with nervous sweat. A man’s heavy, ragged breathing filled the small room. He walked around the vats, seemingly checking that everything was in order, before stepping back out. He seemed to be looking for something. 22 Time crawled by. My legs started to go numb. The man still hadn’t left. Just as I was about to cramp up, a shrill ringtone cut through the silence. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but after a short, sharp conversation, the man left in a hurry. I let out a silent breath of relief. I fumbled in the darkness, searching for the pull-string for the light. Suddenly, a puff of warm breath hit my arm. My body went rigid. For a split second, my brain refused to process it. It had to be my imagination. I yanked the cord. The room was flooded with light. “What are you looking for?” a hoarse voice rasped from right behind me. 23 The owner stood in the doorway, a heavy iron ladle in his hand, his face a grim mask. My eyes widened, and my scalp prickled as if struck by lightning. “I… I was…” The words died in my throat. I couldn’t exactly say I was looking for a dead body, could I? He started walking towards me. I threw caution to the wind and charged, trying to shove past him. It was a foolish miscalculation. Years of manual labor had made him strong. He tackled me with surprising speed, sending me crashing to the floor. I was no match for him. After a brief, desperate struggle, my energy was gone. I lay pinned beneath him, his weight crushing the air from my lungs. He clamped my hands above my head, his voice a low growl. “What were you looking for?” 24 His grip was like iron; I couldn’t move an inch. Then, the piercing wail of sirens cut through the night. The police burst through the door, and his grip on me finally loosened. Several officers swarmed into the small space. The first one helped me to my feet. Before I could even explain, the owner’s demeanor flipped. He became the victim. “Officer, thank god you’re here! This girl, she broke in and was tampering with my marinade!” He pointed at my phone. “She was filming it, too! These kids today… they’ll do anything for clicks…” The sudden switch was so jarring it left me speechless. “I didn’t,” I managed, my voice weak. “Then what were you doing here?” the lead officer asked, his question hitting the nail on the head. I stammered, unable to come up with a coherent answer. 25 Just as they were about to lead me away, I took a desperate gamble. I grabbed the officer’s sleeve and pointed at the vats. “There’s a body in there.” The officer’s eyes widened. He waved a hand at his team. “Search them!” The team moved quickly, ripping the covers off the vats. The stench that filled the room became so thick it was hard to breathe. After a few minutes, one of them reported, “Sir, besides the marinade base, we’ve found some chunks of meat.” My heart hammered in my chest. I looked at the owner, who stood with his head bowed, silent. “It has to be human remains!” I cried. 26 The meat was laid out on a plastic sheet. Twelve pieces in total, one from each vat. The lead officer, a detective, crouched down to examine them. After a moment, he shook his head in disappointment. “These aren’t human.” He was right. I could see it now, too. The texture and fiber were wrong. The owner feigned outrage. “Officers, if I were really hiding a body, would I have called the police myself?” he whined, conveniently forgetting that I had been the one to trigger his security alarm. “That’s just pork! It’s part of my family’s secret recipe! How am I supposed to do business after this?” “And you,” he snarled, pointing at me, “why do you keep saying there’s a body? You’ve ruined this entire batch of marinade! You’re going to pay for this!” The detective sighed, clearly overwhelmed by the situation. He pointed at me. “Cuff her. Take her in.” All the fight went out of me. I let them lead me away without another word. 27 Once we were in the patrol car, the detective slowly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He took a long drag, his eyes fixed on the glowing sign of the food truck. “How did you know there was a body in there?” I told him the truth. “I smelled it. My family is in the death care business. I’ve been around that smell my whole life.” The detective glanced at me, a flicker of surprise and then approval in his eyes. “You’ve got a good nose, kid.” I looked at him, confused. “You… you’re not mad at me?” He shook his head. “There was definitely the stench of a corpse in there.” “You smelled it too?” I gasped. He looked at the cigarette between his fingers, now burned down to a short stub. He took one last drag and flicked it onto the asphalt. “I’ve worked enough cases and seen enough bodies to know the smell of death. It was thick in there.” “Then why didn’t you keep searching?” I asked. “No probable cause. We can’t just tear a place apart unless we know where the body is hidden.” His words sent my mind racing. The vats reeked of decay, but there was no body. And that pork… was it really a secret ingredient, or was it meant to hide something else? 28 At the station, the detective handed me over to a young officer for processing. The young officer, looking tired and overworked, slid a form across the desk. “Fill this out. Personal information.” Then he went back to his own chaotic paperwork. The station was buzzing with activity, even in the middle of the night. Drunks, domestic disputes, fights—it was a cross-section of the city’s misery. About fifteen minutes later, the young officer slammed a missing person flyer down on his desk in frustration. “God, I’m so sick of this,” he muttered to a colleague. “It never ends.” The sudden noise made me look up. The photo on the flyer was blurry, showing a thin woman in a bright magenta sweater, a little girl of about seven or eight standing beside her. 29 The officer tapped the desk. “What are you looking at? You done?” I averted my gaze and handed him the completed form. He glanced at it, confirmed the details, and began the official questioning. “You’re a college student. So tell me again why you believe a food truck’s secret sauce is being made with… fluid from a corpse?” I stared at the cold steel of the handcuffs, catching the lingering scent of decay trapped under my fingernails. It was, without a doubt, the smell of death. The smell a human body weeps after it’s gone. The officer saw my silence and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He stood up and dialed the number I had written down for my emergency contact. After a brief, clipped explanation of the situation, he hung up. “Your family is on their way to pick you up.” 30 Seeing my dazed expression, he sat down across from me, his tone softening into a lecture. “Look, you’re a student, so we’re not going to press charges this time. But you will have to compensate the business owner for the damages.” A jolt went through me. I came back to myself. “I understand,” I whispered. My parents lived in a distant suburb, about an hour and a half away. But with no traffic at this hour, they made it to the station in just under sixty minutes. They burst in, not even bothering to close the car door behind them. They fussed over me, checking me from head to toe, and only relaxed when they were sure I was unharmed. My mother pulled me over to the officer. “Officer, what on earth has my daughter done?” The young officer, seeing I was just a kid, tried to downplay the severity of it. “Your daughter was found trespassing in a private business… luckily, no serious harm was done, but you’ll need to cover the owner’s losses.” “Here,” he said, handing my dad a slip of paper with a phone number on it. “This is the owner’s contact information. You can arrange the compensation with him directly.” My parents shot me a look of disbelief before turning back to the officer with apologetic smiles. “We’re so sorry, officer. We’ll be sure to have a serious talk with her when we get home.” 31 The moment we were back in the car, my mother’s face hardened. “What really happened?” she demanded. From her tone, I knew I had to tell them everything, or she’d never let it go. I sighed and recounted the whole story, from the first smell to being caught in the back room. “Mom, you know my nose,” I finished lamely. “How could I be wrong about something like that?” My father, who had been listening intently, finally understood the gravity of the situation. “But to go in there alone? Mia, that was incredibly dangerous!” My mother’s expression was grim. “Your father’s right. You need to stay out of this. This is not something a young girl should be involved in.” I knew they were right. I had been reckless. I hung my head in shame. “I’m sorry. I was impulsive.” The tension in the car was thick. My father tried to smooth things over. “Well, as long as you’ve learned your lesson. Listen to your mother, honey. From now on, you stay away from that place.” Seeing me nod obediently, my mother’s expression finally softened a little. 32 By now, it was long past the dorm’s curfew. There was no way I could get back in. Fortunately, before the semester started, my parents had rented a small two-bedroom apartment for me near the campus. I used it occasionally when my work at the funeral home ran late and it was inconvenient to go back to the dorm. After my mom made me promise I’d be okay on my own, she and my dad finally left. I took a hot shower and collapsed into bed. I must have been more exhausted than I realized, because I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. I didn’t wake up until noon the next day. Luckily, I had no morning classes. After getting ready, I headed out to go back to campus. As I was walking down the stairs of my apartment building, I nearly collided with a familiar figure. The fries truck owner. He was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. We both froze. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air thick with awkward silence. What a small world. Who would have thought that the man I suspected of murder lived in the same building as me? 33 I lowered my head and tried to walk past him without a word. After the lecture from my parents, I had decided to drop the whole thing. “Thump!” A loud crash and a cry of pain came from behind me. I spun around. The owner was sprawled on the landing of the stairs, clutching his ankle and groaning in pain. Did he fall? I looked around. The stairwell was empty. With a sigh, I went back and helped him up. “Thanks,” he muttered, leaning his full weight on me. I had to brace myself to keep from toppling over. 34 The moment his left foot touched the ground, his face contorted in pain. Looks like a sprained ankle. “Do you need me to help you get back to your apartment?” I couldn’t just leave him here. It felt wrong. He gritted his teeth and nodded. “If you don’t mind.” I helped him hobble up one flight of stairs to the fourth floor. He stopped in front of his door. I glanced at the apartment number: 402. Huh? 402? My apartment was 302. The owner lived directly above me? What a strange coincidence. I didn’t mention it, though. The less he knew, the better. And really, there was no reason to.

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1 “Jackson, if you want to divorce Freya, you will forfeit everything—the trust, the shares. You will leave with nothing.” “Fine.” “You will also relinquish all rights to the child and are never to see them again. Can you accept that?” “I accept.” Jackson Vance’s voice was resolute, devoid of emotion. “Mrs. Burrows, the contract has expired. Freya and the boy have someone to look after them now. It’s time for me to go.” Silence lingered on the other end of the line before Freya’s mother sighed, a long, weary sound. “If you’re so determined to leave, then as we agreed, I’ll arrange for you to study music at the Vienna Conservatory. The paperwork will take a week.” “As for the divorce… you can tell Freya yourself.” “Thank you, ma’am.” After hanging up, Jackson quietly pulled out a photograph. In the picture, Freya Burrows’s face was alight with a blissful, radiant smile. Their son, Leo, was beside her, waving a toy in a blur of happy motion. The cruel irony was that the man in the photo with them wasn’t Jackson. It was Freya’s childhood sweetheart, Sebastian Cole. … Sebastian and Freya were heirs to powerful families, inseparable from childhood and each other’s first love. But at twenty, Sebastian went abroad for an arranged marriage with another woman. When Freya found out, she nearly lost her mind, spending her days lost in a haze of tears and grief. Desperate to save her daughter, Mrs. Burrows found Jackson, a brilliant Juilliard student in desperate need of money. For half a million dollars, she bought ten years of his life to pull Freya back from the brink. From that day on, a relentless suitor appeared at Freya’s side. He was not only strikingly handsome but a gifted musician, full of talent and life. When Freya’s spirits fell, he would appear as if from nowhere to play a soothing melody for her. When she was ill, he would keep a sleepless vigil by her bedside, his care absolute. Slowly, she grew accustomed to having this male nurse, this shadow, but she never agreed to his advances. Until one night, at a high-stakes business dinner. A rival heir challenged the table to a drinking contest, with a massive international project on the line. To secure the deal for Freya, Jackson drank himself into the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. That was the first time Freya ever cried for him. “Jackson,” she had whispered at his bedside, “I’ll marry you. I believe we can make this work…” Only later did Jackson learn that day was also the day of Sebastian’s grand wedding, and photos of him kissing his new bride were circulating throughout their entire social circle. The truth didn’t break Jackson’s spirit. Instead, he fulfilled his contract with even more diligence, marrying into the Burrows family. For eight years, he was a devoted husband. He and Freya had their son, Leo, who took the Burrows family name. Jackson thought their quiet life might last forever, but then Sebastian’s family business collapsed. He divorced his wife and returned home. The day he landed, Freya raced to the airport at a hundred and twenty miles an hour. She threw him the most extravagant welcome-home party and gifted him a million-dollar watch and a luxury sports car. Their old flame was quickly rekindled, their contact becoming more and more frequent. To push Jackson out faster, Sebastian deliberately got close to Leo, poisoning the boy’s mind with whispers about his father. Soon, his once-proud son was affectionately calling another man “Dad.” His wife, a woman who had never lifted a finger in the kitchen, began baking Sebastian his favorite pastries from scratch. Jackson understood. There was no place left for him in this home. But none of it mattered anymore. In one week, he would be free from this gilded cage that had held him for a decade. He would finally pursue his own dreams, his music. Jackson drafted the divorce papers and waited quietly for his wife and son to return. Half an hour later, the front door of the villa opened. 2 At the sound, Jackson moved automatically, lining up their slippers by the door and taking their coats, just as he always did. He had timed dinner perfectly, ensuring the food would be hot and ready the moment they walked in. “It’s getting cold out. I made some chicken soup. You and Leo should have some while it’s warm.” “We already ate. I was catching up with Sebastian,” Freya said dismissively, her eyes glued to her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen. Beside her, Leo scowled. “Soup again? I told you I wanted fried chicken!” “Leo, fried chicken isn’t healthy…” “I don’t care! Sebastian bought me fried chicken! You just don’t want to make it for me.” Leo threw the chopsticks Jackson offered him onto the floor. “No wonder everyone says you’re useless! You have no money and no skills! You can’t even make fried chicken!” “You’re not even half the man Sebastian is! Hmph!” The childish, venomous words were like steel needles piercing Jackson’s heart, a cold sickness spreading through him. He couldn’t imagine what poison Sebastian had been feeding the boy to make him so ungrateful. Jackson slowly looked to Freya, but her reaction was even more chilling. “He’s just a child, Jackson. Don’t take it to heart.” She glanced up for a second, her tone flat. “Leo, don’t talk to your father like that.” “I will!” Leo made a face and ran upstairs. “He doesn’t even dare to talk back. He really is a useless loser…” And just like that, everything returned to normal. The vast living room fell into a dead silence, the crystal chandelier hanging precariously above. Jackson sank onto the sofa and sat there for a long time before finally pulling the divorce agreement from beneath the coffee table. Freya was still staring at her phone, but now her frown had smoothed into a look of pure, relaxed contentment. It was obvious she was texting Sebastian. That genuine joy was something he hadn’t seen on her face in their entire marriage. Jackson let out a self-mocking laugh and placed the papers on the table. It didn’t matter. Once she signed, he and Freya would be finished, completely and utterly free. “Freya,” he said, his voice as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “Let’s get a divorce. I’ll leave with nothing.” “Mm-hmm,” she grunted, her eyes fixed on the screen. “Leo will stay with you. We’ll never see each other again. If that’s all good, just sign here.” “Okay.” He was used to her distracted replies; it was the soundtrack to the last decade of his life. But now, with Sebastian back in the picture, she couldn’t even be bothered to pretend. Jackson slid the pen and paper towards her. Without hesitation, she scribbled her name, only to pause at the final stroke. He glanced over and saw her smiling foolishly at her phone. “Freya, did you hear a word I just said?” “Hmm?” She looked up, annoyed, and quickly finished her signature without a second glance at the document. “Isn’t it just about that charity event again? From now on, you can just sign for those things yourself.” With that, she stood up and went to her room, closing the door firmly behind her. Watching her leave, Jackson’s mouth twitched into a bitter line. She hadn’t heard him. She hadn’t cared at all. Ten years of his life, ten years of devotion, and in the end, it amounted to nothing more than his wife’s indifference and his son’s contempt. But it was almost over. Just seven more days, and he would be gone for good. His wife, his son, and this thing they called a home. He didn’t want any of it anymore. 3 The next morning was cold, the first real bite of autumn in the air. When Jackson woke, Freya’s side of the bed was already empty. He fixed himself a quick breakfast and then headed to St. Jude’s Hospital. He walked into the patient room, and the elderly woman lying in bed immediately sat up, her wrinkled face breaking into a joyful smile. “Jackson… what are you doing here?” “Director Miller, I came to say goodbye.” Jackson handed the old woman an envelope containing the final hundred thousand dollars from his contract payout. “I’m going abroad to study music soon. This is the last of the money for the orphanage.” “Oh, you dear boy… more money?” The director was so moved she began to cry. She had found Jackson at five years old and raised him in the orphanage. He had earned a scholarship to Juilliard on his own merit and was on the verge of a brilliant career abroad when a sudden illness left her in desperate need of a half-million-dollar surgery. To repay her kindness, Jackson had sold ten years of his life. The money had paid for her surgery, and the rest had helped rebuild the orphanage. She didn’t know how she could ever thank him. “Please, don’t worry about it, Director. Once I finish my studies, money won’t be an issue anymore.” “You’re right, of course. Going abroad is a wonderful opportunity. I’m so happy for you.” Then, a thought struck her. “But if you go overseas, won’t it be difficult to see your wife and son?” “It’s better if I don’t see them. Less trouble that way,” Jackson said with a hollow laugh. “I… I’m divorced.” The director stared at him for a moment, then pulled him into a tight embrace, stroking his head. “Good,” she murmured. “It’s for the best. You’ve suffered enough all these years. From now on, you have to be good to yourself.” “I will be, Director. I promise.” … After leaving the hospital, Jackson went back to the villa to pack. He had tied up his last loose end. He could leave the Burrows family with a clear conscience. It only took a few hours to pack up his life. He also boxed up everything related to Freya and Leo. The scarf he had knitted to please her, the baby bottles left over from Leo’s infancy… For ten years, he had poured his heart and soul into this family. Even without the contract, he had wanted a warm home to call his own. But it had all been a fantasy. Jackson took one last look at the boxes, then carried them out to the trash cans by the gate. Just then, a Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb. Leo jumped out of the car first. Seeing Jackson by the trash, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “What are you doing, digging through the garbage? Have you no shame?” “Is dinner ready yet? I want fried chicken!” Looking at the boy he had raised for six years, Jackson’s heart twisted, but the pain was quickly overshadowed by a surge of cold anger. “If you want fried chicken, go ask your Uncle Sebastian.” “You…” Leo’s face was a mask of shock. It was the first time Jackson had ever spoken to him like that. At that moment, Freya and Sebastian walked up. “Jackson, Sebastian’s house is undergoing some renovations. He’ll need to stay with us for a few days. I trust that’s not a problem?” This was the first time Jackson had seen Sebastian up close. He had a naturally refined, almost delicate beauty that years of marriage hadn’t touched. It was no wonder Freya was still so captivated by him. In contrast, Jackson, who had once been just as young and handsome, was now worn down by years of thankless labor. Leo seized the opportunity. “Hurry up and help Uncle Sebastian with his luggage! Didn’t you hear me, you bad daddy? If you don’t, I won’t like you anymore!” Jackson looked from Freya to Sebastian. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice flat. “I just pulled a muscle in my back. I can’t lift anything.” At his words, a flash of coldness crossed Sebastian’s eyes, but he quickly masked it with a look of pained reluctance. “Oh, then… perhaps we should forget it. It seems Mr. Vance isn’t too happy about this. My apologies…” He turned as if to leave, but Freya grabbed his arm. “Don’t be silly. I’ll help you with your bags. You’re staying here. He won’t have a problem with it.” Jackson watched the scene unfold with a quiet, bitter amusement. “That’s right,” he said. “You can have our room. I won’t have a problem with it at all.” What did it matter anymore? Judging by Freya’s attitude, this house would belong to Sebastian soon enough anyway. 4 Freya immediately rushed to help with the luggage, afraid that if she delayed for even a second, Sebastian would change his mind. Leo, playing the part of the dutiful son, trotted over to grab a smaller bag. The three of them, laughing and talking as they supported each other, looked like a perfect little family returning from vacation. “What are you still standing there for? Go make dinner!” Leo demanded. “I want fried chicken, and Mom and Uncle Sebastian want seafood to… you know, build up their strength.” Treating Jackson like a personal chef had become the norm in this house. For years, he had been their live-in butler, catering not only to Freya’s demanding palate but also designing perfectly balanced, nutritious meals for Leo. They had never had to lift a finger. This time, however, Jackson’s reply was unexpected. “I can’t.” Freya stared at him, stunned. In her memory, this was the first time he had ever refused to do something she asked. Before she could react, Sebastian put on a wounded expression. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’m just an outsider, after all. I don’t deserve to have Mr. Vance cook for me.” He picked up his bags, turned around, and put them back in the trunk, slamming it shut. “This has nothing to do with you,” Freya snapped, her brow furrowing as she shot Jackson a dark look. “You said you didn’t have a problem with this. What game are you playing now?” Jackson’s answer was calm. “There’s no food in the refrigerator. I can’t cook.” He was leaving, so he hadn’t gone grocery shopping. Besides, he had no intention of cooking for them anyway. It was a convenient excuse. After ten years of swallowing his pride, he refused to back down again. At his words, Leo threw a full-blown tantrum on the lawn. “I knew it! You’re the most useless dad in the world! You didn’t even buy groceries! Are you trying to starve us? Waaah!” “You’re not my dad! I want Sebastian to be my dad!” Seeing this, a flicker of triumph crossed Sebastian’s eyes, quickly replaced by a mask of false sincerity. “Leo, you shouldn’t talk to your father like that. It’s very rude.” “I’m sorry, Uncle Sebastian. I’ll be more careful.” “Well, since there’s no food here,” Sebastian said smoothly, “why don’t we go to that steakhouse we passed on the way? I’ll even order you your own plate of fried chicken.” “Yay! Uncle Sebastian, you’re the best!” Leo hugged Sebastian’s leg, and Freya watched them with a doting smile. The scene was sickeningly sweet. The three of them piled into the back seat of the car, and Freya told Jackson to drive so that Sebastian could rest. The entire way, Sebastian played games and chatted with Freya and Leo in the back, their laughter filling the car. They treated Jackson like he was nothing but air. “Mr. Vance,” Sebastian called out, his voice loud enough to make sure he was heard. “Freya and I are just catching up. I hope you don’t mind.” He added, with deliberate condescension, “We wouldn’t want to bore you with things you wouldn’t understand.” Jackson just grunted, his eyes fixed on the road. He didn’t need to know, and he didn’t want to know. None of it mattered to him anymore. … Half an hour later, they were seated at a table. Freya took the menu and began ordering for them. “Sebastian likes the filet, medium-rare, and no black pepper…” After a decade, she still remembered Sebastian’s every preference. Then, for the first time in ten years, she asked Jackson what he wanted. “Jackson, what cut would you like?” “I don’t eat steak,” he replied flatly, surprising her. In ten years of marriage, he knew every detail of her life, but this was the first she had ever learned about his. “You guys enjoy your meal. I’m leaving.” He had brought them here. He had no desire to stay and be tortured further. None of the three of them tried to stop him. They simply watched in silent agreement as he walked out of the restaurant. A few minutes later, Jackson realized he still had the car keys. He turned around and headed back. He hadn’t even reached the door when he heard exclamations from inside. “Isn’t that Ms. Burrows? What a beautiful family you have.” “And this handsome gentleman must be your husband. No wonder you keep him hidden away; you must be afraid someone will steal him!” 5 Although Sebastian had been abroad for years and was largely forgotten in their social circles, his elegant demeanor and refined speech quickly captured the attention of the gossiping crowd. Everyone was charmed by him. “Ms. Burrows and Mr. Cole are such a perfect couple. How long have you been married? Your son is already so big!” Freya blushed slightly but didn’t deny it. Leo, meanwhile, played his part perfectly, calling Sebastian “Dad” over and over again. Watching the scene unfold, Jackson felt a brief stab of pain, but it quickly faded into a calm numbness. What was there to be angry about? He was just a toy Mrs. Burrows had bought to appease her daughter, a tool used to produce a Burrows heir. The contract was ending, the transaction was complete. None of this had anything to do with him anymore. Inside the restaurant, Sebastian caught a glimpse of Jackson through the window. He deliberately speared a piece of steak and held it gently to Freya’s lips. “Freya, thank you so much for helping me move today. You must be exhausted.” “It was nothing. Your business is my business,” she replied with a small smile, opening her mouth to accept the bite. Sebastian leaned in closer, their faces nearly touching, the gesture charged with intimacy. The onlookers started to cheer. “This is so sweet! Am I watching a romance movie?” “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Leo joined in with a mischievous grin. “Mom, hurry up and kiss! I can’t wait!” “We’re in public! Behave yourself!” Freya’s cheeks were flushed as she whispered a soft reprimand. This only excited Sebastian more. He cupped the back of her head and pressed his lips to hers. She hesitated for a moment, but as he deepened the kiss, she surrendered, slowly closing her eyes to enjoy it. Watching her feigned shyness from outside, Jackson let out a cold, silent laugh. So, the great ice queen CEO wasn’t always so cold and distant. She was just cold and distant to him. He had no desire to be nauseated any further. He handed the keys to a waiter and left without another word. “Ms. Burrows,” the waiter said, approaching their table. “A gentleman just dropped off these car keys for you.” The two of them were still nestled close together, their faces glowing with happiness. At the waiter’s words, Freya’s head snapped towards the door. “What? Was Jackson just here?” Seeing her apparent concern, Sebastian felt a prick of annoyance. He feigned surprise. “Oh no, this is bad. We were just joking around. I hope Mr. Vance didn’t see and get the wrong idea.” “Don’t worry about him, Uncle Sebastian,” Leo piped up, his mouth full. “He’s just our butler.” “Besides, you and Mom used to date. What’s wrong with a little kiss?” “Leo, don’t talk nonsense,” Freya said, her expression shifting as she cut her son off. She quickly gathered her purse and rushed outside. On the cold, empty sidewalk, Freya ran to catch up with Jackson just as he was about to hail a cab. 6 The moment their eyes met, she held her breath, bracing herself for an angry tirade. But they stood there in a long, tense silence, his face as calm and still as a stagnant pool of water. “Don’t misunderstand what happened back there,” she finally said. “Sebastian and I were just joking around. It didn’t mean anything.” When he still didn’t react, a flicker of anger ignited in her. “Are you blaming me? What was I supposed to do with everyone cheering us on?” “I’m not blaming you,” he said, his frankness terrifying. “Is there anything else?” Freya shook her head, stunned into silence as she watched him get into a taxi and drive away. For some reason, a strange, unsettling feeling crept into her heart. When had Jackson become so… tolerant? Sebastian had already followed her out. Without another thought, she went back into the restaurant to finish her meal. … Night fell, and the trio returned to the villa, their laughter echoing in the grand foyer. Freya immediately started preparing bedding and toiletries for Sebastian, but having never done a single chore, she had no idea where anything was. Though she felt a pang of guilt, she ended up calling Jackson to do it. Jackson silently retrieved the items, then returned to his study and shut the door. Sebastian clenched the towel in his hand and sighed dramatically. “It seems Mr. Vance is still hostile towards me. Maybe I should just check into a hotel tomorrow.” “A hotel isn’t as comfortable as a villa,” Freya said, her expression complicated. “He’s been acting a little strange today. Don’t mind him.” Leo immediately grabbed Sebastian’s hand. “Uncle Sebastian, my dad took the study. You can sleep in the master bedroom with us tonight!” “I don’t think that’s a good idea…” “Don’t be silly, you’re our guest! We can’t let you sleep on the sofa!” “Alright, then.” After Sebastian reluctantly accepted the invitation, Jackson’s phone buzzed with a new message less than half an hour later. [Mr. Vance, mind if I borrow your razor?] The message was accompanied by a photo. It showed not only the razor but also Freya and Leo playing a board game with Sebastian on the master bed in the background. [It’s used. If you don’t mind my germs, go ahead.] Jackson replied without a second thought, then switched his phone to silent and fell into a deep sleep. … Two days flew by. Only four days remained until the divorce was finalized. Jackson had already purchased the instruments he would need for his studies and was practicing in his room. But the constant noise from downstairs was a grating distraction. He went down to find Sebastian and Leo roughhousing. “Uncle Sebastian, I want to play cats and fish! Can you get that fishbowl down for me?” “Hold on,” Jackson said, stepping in front of them. “You can’t play with the fish. Pick something else.” Leo had a history with that fishbowl. Every time, he would torture the small fish until they were half-dead, leaving Jackson to clean up the mess. Jackson had tried many times to teach him to respect life, but his efforts were always met with curses and resentment. He was trying to stop it this time to save the fish he had so carefully raised. “You… you just don’t want me to have any fun!” Leo snarled. Sebastian seized the opportunity. “Jackson, how much can a few fish be worth? You shouldn’t crush the boy’s spirit.” “The fish aren’t worth much. I’m just trying to teach him to be kind.” “And how much is ‘kindness’ worth?” Sebastian sneered, poking Jackson in the shoulder. “You’re so kind, but could you even keep your own wife? Your own family?” Sebastian was a man who never let a slight go. He was still fuming from their confrontation the other night and was eager to humiliate Jackson. “I only protect what’s important to me,” Jackson said, calmly placing the fishbowl back on its high shelf. “What you’re talking about isn’t as important as these fish.” “Then you can have them.” “You…?” Sebastian was flushed with anger. “Talk tough all you want. I don’t believe you have no feelings for the woman you’ve been married to for ten years. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the hell out of here before I make you.” This time, Jackson didn’t even bother to reply. He simply turned and walked away. A vicious glint appeared in Sebastian’s eyes. He lunged forward and snatched the fishbowl from the shelf. Jackson reacted instantly, his hand shooting out to grab the edge of the bowl. As they struggled, the glass slipped from their grasp and crashed to the floor. CRASH! Shards of glass flew everywhere, the sharp edges instantly slicing through their skin. At that exact moment, Freya was coming down the stairs.

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The moment I was reborn, my sister had already been drugged. “Ash, I’m so hot…” Her warm breath ghosted over my earlobe. But this time, instead of making the same mistake, I knocked on the door of the man she truly loved. In my last life, I fell for my adoptive sister. Fueled by alcohol, I gave in to the impulses I had long suppressed. Even though I knew she was calling out another man’s name, I carried her into my own bedroom. The next morning, when we were discovered, she was forced to marry me. On our wedding day, the love of her life, her “white moonlight,” went hiking to clear his head. He fell from a cliff. As he lay dying, he sent her one last text message. [My dear Luna, let’s be together in our next life.] My sister, Luna, stared at that message in silence for an entire night. Then, during our honeymoon, she pushed me off the very same cliff. I clung to the edge, begging her to pull me up, but she just laughed, a wild, terrible sound. She pressed her foot onto my hand, grinding it back and forth into the sharp rock. Through her maniacal laughter, I finally understood. She blamed me for his death. And then I woke up, back in the present, watching my sister, flushed and feverish with desire. 1 “I’m so hot, Ashton…” she murmured, her voice thick with a desire that wasn’t for me. “Hot… help me…” Under the influence of the aphrodisiac, Luna’s consciousness was fading. Her glossy red lips were slightly parted, emitting soft, breathy moans. The feeling of her soft body pressed against my arm was a visceral reminder that I had been given a second chance. In my last life, emboldened by alcohol, I lost all reason to her whispered pleas. I crossed a forbidden line, and it led to my brutal death at the bottom of a ravine. But now, reborn, I refused to repeat that mistake. Ashton, the man she loved, was staying in the guest room on the second floor. The moment he opened the door, I pushed Luna into his arms. “My sister’s had too much to drink,” I said, my voice flat. “She’s been calling your name.” I turned and walked away, ignoring the complex look in Ashton’s eyes. The sound of his door closing behind me was a profound relief. Because of one selfish choice, my past life had ended with Luna forced into a loveless marriage with me, and Ashton dead. Luna’s heart had filled with a murderous hatred, and she’d changed our honeymoon plans specifically to lead me to that cliff and exact her revenge. Even now, the visceral terror of that fall lingered in my soul. This time, I had given them their chance. Surely, the ending would be different now. The next morning, a servant woke me. As I entered the dining room, my eyes met Luna’s. Unlike the dead, hollow look she’d had in our last life, this time her eyes were practically overflowing with joy. Seeing me, she cleared her throat and lifted her hand from under the table, her fingers intertwined with Ashton’s. “Now that everyone’s here, I have an announcement,” she declared. “Ashton and I have decided to get married. We’ll let you all know the date once it’s set.” “I’ll take good care of Luna,” Ashton said with a slight bow. “Soon, we’ll all be family. I hope you’ll all be patient with the new guy.” Watching them, a perfectly matched pair, my mind drifted. If this were my past life, what would I be doing right now? Throwing things? Screaming? My silence seemed to bother Ashton. “Caden isn’t saying anything,” he teased, a malicious glint in his eye. “Don’t you want your sister to get married? Or… do you just hate me?” I snapped back to reality just in time to see the corner of his mouth twitch into a smirk before it vanished. He immediately turned to Luna, his expression one of wounded innocence. “Luna, Caden is your brother. I don’t want any trouble between you two. If he can’t accept this right away, I can leave for a while.” Luna frowned at me, her gaze sharp. “Ashton is going to be your brother-in-law. If I see you giving him that sour face again, don’t blame me for being harsh. Do you understand?” I had no intention of getting between them this time, but they seemed determined to drag me in. My already small appetite vanished completely. I mumbled that I understood and turned to leave. Luna slammed her hand on the table. “Get back here and eat. Are you going on a hunger strike just because I said a few words to you? Where did you pick up such a pathetic habit?” I had already decided to leave this house soon. I didn’t want to spend my last days here fighting. Seeing the anger in her eyes, I sat back down and forced a few bites of food. Then I stood up and smiled. “I’m done, Luna. Ashton. You two enjoy your meal.” I had barely reached my room when the doorknob turned. Luna walked in, her expression serious. 2 “You should knock before entering.” My words made her brow furrow. “Are you avoiding me?” she asked abruptly. “Or are you throwing a tantrum because of Ashton?” “We’re not children anymore. I just think we should be mindful of appearances. I don’t want your fiancé to get the wrong idea.” I shook my head and offered a small, formal bow. “I’m very happy for you and Ashton. I wish you a long and happy life together.” I tried to sound playful, but for some reason, it only seemed to anger her more. “Are you sure you mean that?” “At your eighteenth birthday party, you kissed me while I was drunk and asleep. On your twentieth, you stood outside my door all night. On our graduation trip, you buried a stone with our names on it under the lover’s rock at the shrine…” As I stared at her in shock, a cruel smile spread across her face. “Caden, did you really think I didn’t know? You thought you were being so clever, hiding your feelings, but you were so obvious. Everyone in this family knows you’re in love with me!” She lifted my chin with her fingertips, her red lips parting. “I was adopted by our parents before you were even born. We were raised as brother and sister. But the moment you found out we weren’t related by blood, you started having inappropriate feelings for me.” “And what makes me angriest,” she continued, her voice dripping with venom, “is that you knew I loved Ashton, yet you deliberately antagonized him at every turn.” In the privacy of my room, she unleashed all the malice she had kept hidden. “So you should be grateful you never confessed your feelings to my face.” “Because if you had… it would have only disgusted me.” Even though I had already let go of my feelings for her in this life, her words still sent a sharp, stabbing pain through my heart. I lifted my head, meeting her gaze, searching for an answer for the me of the past. “In your eyes, was I really that terrible?” “What else would you be?” She pulled her hand back and wiped her fingertips with a tissue from the desk. “Last night, even though I was drugged, I wasn’t completely unconscious. I saw the desire in your eyes. And I’m telling you, if you had dared to do anything, I would have killed you.” She threw the used tissue at me. “The thought of you touching me makes my skin crawl.” I never knew. I never knew she had started hating me so long ago. I pressed my lips together, forcing back the tears. It was a good thing I had already moved on. If I hadn’t, this truth would have been unbearable. “I understand,” I said, my voice low. “I’ll be more careful from now on.” I lowered my head. My professor from abroad had just emailed me, accepting my application. I just had to get through these last few days. I had no fight left in me. But I didn’t know Luna could be even crueler. She walked to the window, glanced outside, and then turned back to me. “Ashton’s room is a bit damp. He’s not sleeping well. Your room gets the best sunlight. You can move out today. He’ll take this one.” Sunlight streamed through the window, framing her in a halo of light. I couldn’t quite make out her expression. Her voice turned cold. “What, you’re not willing?” I kept my head down, my voice as neutral as I could make it. “No. This was your room to begin with. You can give it to whomever you want.” This room had been Luna’s a long time ago. But when I was seven, I nearly drowned and suffered from a persistent chill for a long time afterward. She had insisted I take her room, the one that got the most sun. I had almost forgotten. She used to be good to me. But now, she had someone she loved more. And she was giving him all her affection, without reservation. Luna narrowed her eyes. “You’re really okay with this?” I just grunted in affirmation. It wasn’t until the servants had moved almost all of my belongings into another room that she finally spoke again, unable to contain her suspicion. “You used to cry and throw a fit if I was nice to anyone else. Why are you suddenly so well-behaved? Are you plotting something?” She was testing me. “I don’t care what you’re planning, but if you hurt Ashton, don’t blame me for what I do. You know what I’m capable of.” The last of my things were moved into the guest room. I stepped inside, and just before closing the door, I looked back at her. “A well-behaved, obedient little brother. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” “I’m not going to target anyone. I just want to be left alone.” I shut the door, cutting off her hissed reply: “You’ve got a lot of nerve.” She was angry. But this time, I wasn’t going to comfort her.

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Only when they saw Aethelgard’s corpse-strewn fields and Lady Agnes’s head on the Crimson Covenant’s gates did they believe me. They turned on Seraphina, voices raw. “You said Caden was jealous! You made us celebrate Lysander’s birthday! How could this happen?” Seraphina trembled. Last life, when the Covenant attacked, Seraphina had led our best mages to celebrate novice Lysander’s birthday. I’d raced back to help repel the attack—but too late for Lysander. The cultists tortured him to death, dismembered him, and hung his remains on their gates. Seraphina alone retrieved his body. After three months secluded, she emerged—and ran me through with her sword. “If you hadn’t conspired with them,” she hissed, “Lysander would live. You never should have existed.” 1 When I opened my eyes, I was back. It was the day of the attack. I scrambled out of my chambers. Lady Agnes and a handful of junior disciples were at the main gate, desperately pouring their aether into the Great Ward. In the distance, a horde of Covenant cultists watched like wolves, launching fireball after fireball at the shimmering barrier, trying to batter their way through. I began my own incantation, adding my aether to the Ward. Sensing my presence, Lady Agnes turned. “Caden! Go to the rear mountain! Find Seraphina and bring the others back, quickly!” It pained me, but I had to tell her the truth. “My Lady, they aren’t at the rear mountain. They’ve gone down to the village to celebrate Lysander’s birthday.” Ever since the Shadow Lord of the Covenant was captured and imprisoned within Aethelgard, a new rule had been established: no Adept-rank mage was to leave the Citadel without the Grandmaster’s explicit permission. And the dozen mages who had left with Seraphina were the Order’s strongest. “Those irresponsible fools!” Lady Agnes cursed. “Use the Vox Crystal! Tell them to return at once!” I hesitated. “My Lady, perhaps we shouldn’t. If we interrupt Lysander’s birthday, Seraphina will be furious.” “Caden, have you lost all sense? A birthday party or the fate of Aethelgard? Which do you think is more important?” Before I could answer, she had already activated the Vox Crystal herself, her voice ringing with urgency. “Seraphina! The Crimson Covenant is at the gates! Bring your brothers and sisters back now!” Lady Agnes was her mother. In the past, Seraphina had always been the most obedient of daughters. But this time, a cold, dismissive laugh came through the crystal. “Mother, please, spare me the theatrics.” Lady Agnes frowned. “What are you talking about?” “I know you’ve never been fond of Lysander, but you shouldn’t stoop to conspiring with Caden to trick me back with such a ridiculous lie. I made inquiries this morning. The Covenant’s high priest is getting married today. The entire cult is celebrating. They have no time to attack Aethelgard. Today is Lysander’s birthday—the first one he’s ever truly celebrated. We promised him we would spend the entire day with him. So please, you and Caden, just behave yourselves and don’t bother us.” The connection was severed. Lady Agnes’s face was a mask of fury. “That boy, Lysander! What potion has he fed my daughter that she no longer trusts her own mother’s word?” Suddenly, the entire mountain shuddered. She whipped her head around, her face draining of color. “Sky-Breaker… How do they have the Sky-Breaker Axe?” At the head of the enemy horde, two hulking figures were swinging a colossal axe, each blow sending spiderweb cracks across the surface of the Great Ward. Sky-Breaker was the legendary weapon of our Order’s first Grandmaster. Upon his Ascension, he had left it behind as the Citadel’s ultimate defense. “They stole it,” Lady Agnes whispered in horror. “No wonder they could bypass the lower wards.” She turned to me, her eyes filled with desperate resolve. “Caden, I will hold the Ward here. You must go to your master.” “But the Grandmaster is in seclusion!” I protested. “To disturb him now could cause his aether to run wild, it could kill him!” Three years ago, after subduing the Shadow Lord, our master had been gravely wounded. He’d been meditating in the sealed Grotto of Sorrows ever since, leaving the Order in Seraphina’s care—which was precisely why she’d been able to lead so many adepts away. “Caden,” Lady Agnes said, her voice stern and unyielding. “Do you know what lies south of this mountain? The mortal realms. The Covenant first grew its power by devouring mortal souls. The First Grandmaster founded this Order here to protect those people, to beat the darkness back. We bear a responsibility not just to contain the Covenant, but to shield the innocent.” She looked me dead in the eye. “Compared to the lives of all those people, what is your master’s life? What is mine?” Her words struck me like a tolling bell. I clenched my fists. “Then you go to the Grandmaster. I will defend the Ward.” “No.” She shoved me back. “My power is greater than yours. I can hold them for half an hour. Go! You must return with him before then!” With tears in my eyes, I nodded, and launched myself into the air, flying toward the Grotto of Sorrows. But as I reached the foot of the sealed mountain, a flash of light slammed into me, sending me crashing to the ground. I thought the Covenant had found me. But when I looked up, it was my junior sister, Rhea, standing over me. My eyes widened. “Rhea! What are you doing here?” “I was waiting for you.” 2 Rhea’s expression was strange, unreadable. I didn’t have time for this. “The Covenant is at the gates! Rhea, you have to help Lady Agnes! I’m going to get the Grandmaster.” Rhea was the most gifted prodigy in our Order. With her help, they could surely hold on longer. I tried to take flight again, but a hand grabbed the back of my tunic. In one smooth motion, Rhea twisted and threw me over her shoulder, slamming me hard onto the packed earth. “Oh, cut the act, Caden. Don’t play these games with me.” Her words were almost identical to Seraphina’s. My mind went blank. “What are you talking about?” “You’re just jealous that Seraphina organized a party for Lysander, aren’t you? Is it really necessary to bother the Grandmaster over something so petty? He’s at a critical point in his healing. If you disturb him over this, he’ll never forgive you.” “Rhea, I’m not jealous!” I scrambled to explain. “The Covenant is really here!” “Don’t lie to me,” she scoffed. “Seraphina told us this morning. She said you were upset about her and Lysander and would definitely cause a scene. She even took us down the mountain to reinforce the lower wards herself. Even if the Shadow Lord himself escaped, he couldn’t break through them.” I sighed, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. “They stole the Sky-Breaker Axe. Rhea, I swear on my life, everything I’m saying is true.” Perhaps the desperation in my voice gave her pause. She seemed to hesitate. But then a small, pitying smile touched her lips. “You really are a terrible liar, Caden. Sky-Breaker is locked in the Grandmaster’s private chambers. How could they possibly have stolen it?” No matter how I tried to explain, she was convinced I was lying. I couldn’t waste any more time. I twisted out of her grip. “Fine, don’t believe me! But I have to get to the Grandmaster, or all of Aethelgard will be lost!” “Don’t run!” The next moment, Rhea produced a set of silver chains. With a single word of power, they flew through the air and wrapped around me, binding me tight. I struggled on the ground, helpless. “Rhea, let me go! There’s no time! Lady Agnes is still at the gate! If you won’t save her, are you going to stop anyone else from trying?” She shook her head. “Stop shouting, Caden. To be honest, Seraphina told me to wait here specifically to catch you. I’ve been here for a while, and I haven’t seen a single cultist.” She looked at me with genuine confusion. “I just don’t get it. Seraphina and Lysander are perfect for each other, a match made in the heavens. Why do you have to be so conniving and try to ruin their happiness?” I knew. They all thought I was a scheming, petty villain. And Lysander, their precious Lysander, was a true gentleman. A year ago, Seraphina had found him, an orphan with no discernible aether, and brought him back to the Citadel. She had insisted on taking him as her personal apprentice, a position of incredible honor. I had argued with her, pointing out how unfair it was to the other, more talented disciples. It broke all our traditions. It was a clear abuse of her authority. I was trying to stand up for fairness, but somehow, I was branded as being jealous of Lysander. From that day on, my relationship with Seraphina had grown colder and more distant. When Lysander’s training wand broke, she accused me of sabotaging it. When he “tripped” and fell down a flight of stairs, she accused me of pushing him. When he had a manic episode and was found scrubbing the floors in the middle of the night, she said I had bullied him into it. It wasn’t just her. As Lysander’s “misfortunes” piled up, everyone began to see me as the villain, jealous of his closeness to Seraphina. They all seemed to have forgotten that I was the one betrothed to her. Worried the chains weren’t enough, Rhea placed a paralysis sigil on my chest. She dusted off her hands. “There. Don’t be so upset, Caden. I’ll keep you company today.” I was so frantic I could have wept. “Rhea, I’ll stay with you, I promise! Just… just go back to the Citadel and look! Please! If you’re too late, it won’t just be Aethelgard that falls, the mortal realms will be plunged into chaos!” Despite my repeated, desperate pleas, she stood firm. “No. Seraphina said she’s planning a firework display from the top of the Citadel for Lysander tonight. I have to take you somewhere else.” As the words left her mouth, the jade pendants we all wore at our waists began to chime violently. Clang, clang, clang! The color drained from Rhea’s face. The Citadel Jade trembles for only one reason. The Great Ward of Aethelgard, the unbreakable shield of the Order, had been shattered.

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The day I was supposed to marry Jimmy, he ran off with Sienna, the one he always said was his soulmate. As if to taunt me, he’d send a postcard from every new city they visited—a picture of the two of them, smiling and carefree. I was getting a manicure and enjoying macarons flown in from Paris when their ninety-ninth postcard arrived. I tossed it in the trash without a second glance. Just then, after three years of silence, Jimmy stormed back into my life. He pointed a trembling finger at my wedding photo—the one with my actual husband—and roared, “How dare you cheat on me with some bastard while I was gone!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you talking about? My husband and I have been married for three years.” I raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Jimmy, you didn’t actually think I’d be waiting for you, did you?” 01 Jimmy’s eyes bulged. “You think I’ll believe that pathetic excuse?” he snarled, grabbing my arm. “Tell me! Who’s the lowlife you’ve been shacking up with? I’ll make you both pay!” He yanked so hard I heard a sickening pop in my shoulder, and a sharp pain shot through me. My mother-in-law, hearing the commotion, came out. Seeing a strange man gripping my arm, she rushed forward. “Who are you? Let go of her immediately!” Jimmy glanced at the simply dressed older woman and instantly dismissed her as our housekeeper. He shoved her hard, sending her stumbling to the ground. “Get lost, old hag. This is between me and her.” “Mom!” I cried out, watching her fall. “Are you okay?” Hearing me call her ‘Mom’ stopped Jimmy cold for a second, then the fury in his eyes intensified. His grip on my arm became a vise. “Mom? That’s your mother? And here I thought you’d landed someone important.” He sneered, his gaze sweeping over her plain clothes. “Judging by how ragged she looks, your new man must be a real loser.” Tears of pain streamed down my face. A dark, ugly bruise was already forming on my arm. “Are you insane? You vanished for three years! You abandoned me without a word, and now you have the gall to come back and act like this?” “And don’t you forget,” I choked out, “we never even had the ceremony. We were never legally married!” My words seemed to stun him for a moment. Then, he started dragging me out of the house. “Everyone knows our families were arranging a merger! You think you can just say we weren’t married?” he spat. “This mansion is mine! You moved your boy toy in here and you dare to talk back to me? You’ve got some nerve!” He dragged me all the way from our private estate to the main intersection, stopping in the middle of the street where the most people were gathered. “Chloe Winters!” he bellowed, making a public spectacle. “You couldn’t even wait for me to be out of the country before you started sleeping around! You have no shame!” “This mansion is mine! I want you out, and you’re going to pay me five million dollars in rent for the past three years!” he screamed. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure you and the entire Winters family become the laughingstock of this city!” Through the crowd, I spotted a familiar figure. Sienna. She was smirking at me, her eyes filled with triumph and contempt. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He had humiliated me when he left, and now he was back to do it all over again. The whole point of our arranged marriage was to save my family’s business. I thought marrying him would secure the investment we desperately needed. But he left, the money never came, and my family’s company went bankrupt. The people living in this neighborhood were all from high society. Hearing Jimmy’s tirade, they were already whispering, their minds made up. “No wonder she’s such a recluse. She’s been hiding her lover in there!” “I thought she was somebody special. Turns out she’s just a gold-digging tramp living off her man’s money.” 02 Just then, my mother-in-law limped out, clutching her back, her face a mask of fury. “You let her go this instant!” she yelled at Jimmy. “Just wait until my son gets home. You’ll regret this!” “Chloe, don’t be afraid. Mom will protect you.” Her words only enraged Jimmy further. He sneered and gave my arm another vicious tug, dragging me a few feet across the rough pavement. “You’re threatening me, you old crow? I don’t care who your son is! You’re squatting in my house! Pack your things and get the hell out!” The sharp gravel scraped my legs raw, leaving bloody trails on the asphalt. “Jimmy, this house is mine!” I cried out. “Go home and ask your parents what really happened after you left!” I tried to warn him. “Let me go, right now, or I swear you’ll be sorry! She’s not my housekeeper! You have no idea who you’re messing with!” Before he could respond, Sienna pushed her way through the crowd. She shot me a venomous look and kicked me squarely in the chest. “You little slut, stop your pathetic crying!” she shrieked. “Are you trying to seduce the rich men around here? Cheating on Jimmy with one man isn’t enough for you? You have to flaunt yourself in public?” A wave of pain radiated from my chest, and it felt like a ball of cotton was lodged in my throat. Seeing Sienna attack me, my mother-in-law threw herself over my body to shield me. “Chloe, are you okay? Just hold on, Mom will find a way to help you!” Sienna, furious that someone dared to interfere, grabbed my mother-in-law by the hair and slapped her hard across the face, again and again. “You old bitch! You really think this is your house now, don’t you?” she spat. “Forget this slut, even if that pretty-boy son of yours showed up, I’d beat him down too!” My mother-in-law stumbled back from the blows and fell to the ground, motionless. Covered in dust, her face already swelling, she looked so fragile. “Mom!” I screamed, a primal, gut-wrenching sound. I turned my head, my voice raw with fury. “Come after me! Leave my mother alone! She’s over sixty years old! Are you even human?” My words only seemed to provoke Jimmy. He grabbed me by the hair, ripped the belt from his pants, and began whipping me with it. I collapsed to the ground, the world blurring into a kaleidoscope of pain and moving shadows. I was going to die here. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the darkness. Suddenly, a man’s voice cut through the chaos. “Hey! Stop that!” A burly-looking man from the crowd had stepped forward. Jimmy glanced at him, a scornful laugh escaping his lips. “What, are you one of her clients too? You seem awfully concerned. She must be great in bed, huh? You’re all lining up for her!” He turned to the watching socialites. “You ladies better watch out! This woman will sleep with anyone. She’ll steal your husbands right out from under you!” His words hit their mark. The few sympathetic glances I’d received turned icy cold, replaced with looks of disgust. The man stood between me and Jimmy. “Sir, you need to watch your mouth. No matter what, you can’t just beat a woman in the street!” Jimmy’s eyes darted between me and the man. Then, with a roar, he punched the man in the face, knocking him down and climbing on top of him, raining down blow after blow. “You think you can scare me? I’m going to kill both of you today, you cheating whore and your pathetic lover!” 03 I blinked, my vision swimming. The kind stranger’s face was already a mess of blood and bruises. “Stop… don’t hurt innocent people,” I rasped. “Do what you want… to me.” Jimmy sneered and stalked toward me. He planted his foot on my face, grinding his heel into my cheek. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him off the hook. Or this old hag,” he said, gesturing to my mother-in-law. “You’re all trash. I’m going to enjoy taking my time with you for squatting in my house!” Then, he and Sienna were on top of us, slapping us relentlessly. I felt a tooth loosen. My mother-in-law, barely conscious, was no match for Sienna. Her face was quickly covered in blood, her head lolling limply to the side. Seeing her like that, I panicked. The shock and lack of air triggered my asthma. “Please…” I wheezed, clawing at my throat. “My… my inhaler…” I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. All I knew was the terrifying sensation of being unable to breathe. Jimmy ripped my hand away, rummaged through my pocket, and found my emergency inhaler. He threw it as far as he could. “You want your medicine?” he sneered. “Stop the act. I never knew you had asthma.” Sienna leaned against him, laughing. “Jimmy, honey, she cheated on you. Why should we care if she lives or dies? If she dies, it’s just God punishing her for being a slut.” As if on cue, they grabbed me and started tearing at my clothes. “You like being a slut, don’t you? Well, today we’ll let you be a slut for everyone to see!” They ripped my blouse open, exposing my chest. I could see people in the crowd raising their phones, recording. I could barely breathe, but I kept begging. “Give me… my medicine… I’ll die…” I pleaded with Jimmy. “Please… give it to me… and I’ll forget everything that happened…” He laughed as if I’d told the world’s funniest joke and threw me back on the ground like a rag doll. “You want me to forget? I’m the one who should be settling scores with you! What a joke!” “Get out of my mansion today, and pay me my five million! Or I’ll make sure you regret it!” His eyes lingered on my exposed chest, and he licked his lips. “Damn, if I’d known you had a body like this, I would’ve taken you for a test drive before I left.” He smirked. “But it’s not too late now. You make me happy, and I’ll give you your inhaler.” He dangled the inhaler in front of my face, then scooped me up and started carrying me toward the mansion. “No! Don’t touch me! Please, let me go!” I clutched the torn fabric of my shirt, sobbing. His eyes raked over my body. “Begging me now? Too late! You just be a good girl and take care of me, and maybe I’ll forget about the three years of rent you owe.” He pressed his full weight on me, his unfamiliar scent turning my stomach. I closed my eyes in despair. Just then, a deafening car horn sliced through the air.

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On my prenatal check-up day, Eric was too busy, so Althea—his so-called “childhood friend”—drove me. She suddenly jerked the wheel. Metal screamed as we crashed into a semi-truck. The world collapsed around us. I didn’t call Eric, an ER doctor. I called 911 and waited. Because last time, I called him first. He saved our baby, but Althea bled out and died. He pretended not to blame me, even arranging a private room for my recovery. Then, on the day I was discharged, he took me to Althea’s grave—and stabbed me. My baby died instantly. As I bled out, his eyes burned with hatred. “If you hadn’t grabbed the wheel, Althea would still be alive!” he hissed, twisting the knife. “A life for a life.” My blood splattered across her headstone. Then—I woke up back in the wrecked car. … A violent jolt, and the searing, twisting pain in my abdomen dragged me back to reality. I had been reborn. My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone in my purse. This time, I didn’t call my husband, the brilliant ER doctor. I dialed 911. The ambulance arrived quickly. Eric, of course, was the first responder on site, sprinting past the passenger side, straight to the driver’s door. Only after he had carefully lifted Althea from the wreckage did I dare to whisper for help to the other paramedics. One of his colleagues, a woman I recognized, shot me a disgusted look. “Really, Leah? Now is not the time for your games,” she snapped, her face a mask of disapproval. My strength gave out. My hands slipped from my belly, and the weight of my pregnancy slammed me against the back of the front seat. A warm, sticky wetness spread beneath me, staining the fabric of my maternity dress a horrifying crimson. They didn’t even glance my way. Gritting my teeth, I used every last ounce of my will to crawl out of the shattered rear window. But every piece of emergency equipment—the oxygen masks, the IV drips, the heart monitors—was being used on Althea. Eric never once looked at me. I heard him mutter, “Serves her right.” A cold sweat drenched my body. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. It was everywhere—under me, in me. With every passing second, I could feel the baby’s heartbeat growing fainter, a tiny drum slowing to a stop. In my past life, I had called him screaming, and Althea had been on the phone with him too. He chose me then, because of the baby. He rushed me to the hospital. By the time he returned to the crash, the police had already towed the car away. Althea’s body was lying on the roadside, covered by a white sheet, dead from blood loss. He had been so calm when he told me. “It’s not your fault,” he’d said, his voice steady. He even upgraded me to a lavish private suite to “rest and recover.” And then, he’d murdered me on her grave. “Althea wasn’t just my friend, Leah,” he had hissed, the knife twisting in my gut. “She was my life. Do you have any idea what it feels like to bleed out? Don’t worry. You’re about to.” This time, I just wanted to escape. But even now, he refused to spare me. He wouldn’t even grant me the mercy of a single piece of medical equipment. My dress was soaked through, and I was lying in a rapidly expanding pool of my own blood. My voice was a faint rasp. “Please… my baby… save my baby…” The nearest nurse finally seemed to notice me. She glanced over, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. She bent down and patronizingly patted my swollen belly. “Leah, honey, the drama’s getting a little old, don’t you think? Everyone at the hospital knows you’re jealous of Eric’s friend. But to pull a stunt like this while you’re pregnant? Seriously?” “Even if you don’t care about yourself, think of your child. Is a man really worth having a death on your conscience? Right now, you should be praying that Miss Miller is okay. Because if she’s not, with how close she and Eric are, you can bet he’ll file for divorce.” I knew Eric didn’t love me. But I never imagined his colleagues saw me this way, as a manipulative, hysterical shrew. The cramps in my belly intensified, stealing my breath, silencing me completely. The blood flowed out of me, a relentless tide. Every single medic was gathered around Althea. Not one person checked on me. Just as my vision started to tunnel from blood loss, I heard a gasp nearby. “Whoa! That’s… that’s a lot of blood. Oh God, you don’t think she’s actually hurt, do you?” “Nah, it’s an act,” another voice scoffed. “She’s trying to guilt-trip Eric into leaving his friend and running to her. She caused this whole mess. Ask Eric if you don’t believe me.” Finally, Eric’s footsteps approached. But not to save me. He kicked my head, his voice laced with venomous impatience. “Leah, have you had enough? I’m here now. You can stop pretending.” “What is wrong with you? You grab the steering wheel, cause a crash, and end up like this, all so I’ll feel sorry for you? I’ve told you a thousand times, Althea is my friend. That’s it. Do you enjoy this?” “I’ve explained everything. Believe it or not, I don’t care anymore!” To him, I was still the villain who had caused the crash, a madwoman using my own child’s life as a pawn. Despair washed over me, a cold wave extinguishing the last embers of hope. I was too broken to even try to explain. I just grabbed his ankle, a desperate, silent plea for him to see that this wasn’t an act, that I was dying. He paused for only a second before a cold, cynical laugh escaped his lips. He lifted the hem of my bloody dress. “The blood pack looks pretty realistic,” he sneered. “If Althea hadn’t told me you were planning something, I might have actually fallen for it.” With that, he turned and walked away without a second glance. The whispers of the paramedics floated around me. “Wait… that doesn’t look like blood from a pack, does it?” “You think the baby’s really in trouble?” “Forget it. Althea said she got it from the hospital’s blood bank, of course it looks real. If she wants to play make-believe, let her. She’ll be the one who kills her own kid.” Someone, tired of the spectacle, kicked me in the side. The impact flipped me over, and my face slammed into the gritty asphalt. Darkness consumed me. In the blackness, a dream took me back to the day I first met Eric. He was giving a lecture at my university on emergency first aid, a star doctor from the city’s top hospital. Tall, handsome, brilliant—he captured the hearts of half the girls in the auditorium. Including me. It was love at first sight. I did everything I could to find a way to talk to him. I was still in college then, a naive kid in his sophisticated world. He turned down every other girl who approached him, but he accepted my friend request. He told me he saw his friend in me, a shared innocence. I didn’t understand then. The very thing that made me special in his eyes was also the cage he’d built for me. I didn’t know about his twisted history with Althea. I was just ecstatic, thinking I was the one. For that scrap of his attention, I pursued him relentlessly. He never said yes, but he never said no, either. I mistook his tolerance for encouragement and fell deeper and deeper. After the hundredth time I asked him out, he finally agreed. I’ll never forget the pure joy of that day. I had no idea it was the beginning of a nightmare. Once we were together, he grew colder, always finding excuses to avoid intimacy. It was for my own good, he said. We should wait until after the wedding. I loved him, so I believed him. Then, the night before our wedding, an email arrived from Althea. That’s when I learned the truth. He wouldn’t touch me because I looked like her. Her email was a brutal collage of their ten-year love affair. They couldn’t be together because their families disapproved, so they’d made a pact to remain “friends” forever, always in each other’s lives. And he had chosen me, the perfect stand-in. Looking at a decade of their shared memories, my heart shattered. On our wedding night, Eric got drunk. For the first time, he came to me willingly. And at the height of his passion, he whispered her name. Althea. I swallowed my tears and played my part. Even after Althea’s supposed death in the other timeline, when he seemed so calm, I thought he had finally moved on. I thought my time had finally come. But as I died by his hand, the truth became brutally clear. From start to finish, I was nothing but a replacement. A convenient cover for his undying love for Althea. When I woke up, I was in a hospital room. It wasn’t Eric by my bedside, but a stranger. “Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “I was driving by the accident. I saw you lying there all alone and brought you here. I was going to call an ambulance, but some guy said they’d already come and gone…” His voice hardened with anger. “I don’t know what’s wrong with those paramedics. Leaving a person bleeding on the ground! And all those people just standing around, watching… If I hadn’t brought you in, you might be dead right now!” I tried to move, my limbs stiff and sore. I placed a hand on my stomach and froze. The familiar, rounded firmness was gone. “I’m so sorry,” the man said, his voice soft with pity. “I got here too late. The doctors said… they said the baby was likely gone at the scene.” A bitter smile twisted my lips. I shook my head. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s not your fault. I know.” After a long silence, he poured me a glass of water. “Why were you, a pregnant woman, out in a car by yourself? Doesn’t your family care?” He paused. “The baby’s father should be here. Give me his number, I’ll call him. These doctors have no professional ethics! I can’t leave you here alone. I’m going to post about this online, expose them. These… these cancers of the medical profession need to be cut out!” Remembering Eric’s cold, sneering face as he walked away, I said flatly, “The baby’s father is dead.” The man, thinking he’d stumbled onto a fresh wound, immediately started apologizing. I drank the water and told him it was fine. He wanted to stay and look after me, but I insisted he leave after I transferred him the money for the hospital fees. He had barely walked out the door when a nurse came in to change my IV drip. She glanced at the name on my chart. “Your name is Leah, too?” she asked, her voice cautious. “What a coincidence. One of our doctors, Eric Cole, his wife has the same name. Do you know him?” I shook my head. She let out a visible sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I hear his wife is… not a very nice person. Nothing like you, you seem so quiet and gentle…” I said nothing. After she left, I pulled out my phone and checked the news. The kind stranger had kept his word. His post about the ER team’s negligence had gone viral. A photo of me, lying helpless at the crash site, was trending. The comments were a firestorm of outrage against the hospital. A hospital employee tried to do damage control, explaining that I was a doctor’s wife. That only poured gasoline on the fire. A doctor’s wife doesn’t deserve to be saved? So it’s okay to just leave your own family to die at an accident scene? If a doctor can’t even be trusted to care for his own injured wife and child, how can any patient trust him with their life? Someone else posted a photo they’d taken from another angle. It clearly showed Eric kicking me. The internet exploded. People flooded the hospital’s official social media accounts, demanding answers. I liked every single one of their comments. I was about to text Eric about the divorce when I saw Althea’s post from two hours earlier. It was a photo of Eric, his gaze filled with a tenderness I had never seen, carefully cleaning a small cut on her hand. The caption read: “So lucky you’re my friend for life, my family without blood ties. Not even death can part us.” I casually liked her post. A second later, my phone rang. It was Eric. “Leah, what the hell is your problem?” he roared. “Why are you harassing Althea? If you have an issue, you take it up with me! She barely survived what you did today, and you’re still going after her? You push her again, and I swear, we are done!” “I put up with your nonsense before, but you don’t get to play with people’s lives! Do you even realize what you did? That’s attempted murder! Are you insane?” “Althea said she forgives you, but that doesn’t mean I do! I’m giving you one last chance. Apologize to her. Now.” Before I could speak, I heard Althea’s theatrical sobs in the background. “Eric, stop, don’t blame her. It was my fault. If I had just let her have the wheel when she grabbed for it, this wouldn’t have happened. Pregnant women get emotional, I understand.” Eric’s voice softened with pity. “You’re my friend, Althea. Why should you have to put up with this? She’s an outsider. What right does she have to treat you like this? Don’t enable her. This time, she needs to learn her lesson.” While the two of them continued their nauseating drama, I spoke, my voice calm and clear. “Fine. Let’s get a divorce. I agree. This outsider won’t get in your way anymore.” Eric was stunned into silence. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be the one to end it. After a two-second pause, his rage erupted. I hung up before he could start screaming. I hadn’t even had time to block his number before a flood of texts came through. “You’re the one who caused the crash by grabbing the wheel. I haven’t even blamed you yet, and you have the nerve to ask for a divorce?” “You’re a murderer, Leah. You should be on your knees thanking me for not calling the cops. Don’t push your luck.” “Get those posts offline. Now. Don’t make me expose you for the psycho you really are.” I didn’t read any more. I deleted the messages and blocked his number. Later, the nurses who came to check on me were chatting amongst themselves, unaware of my identity. “Did you see the news online? I heard it’s Dr. Cole’s wife acting up again. Talk about having the same name but different fates. If she were half as gentle as our Leah here, none of this would be happening.” “I know, right? They’ve been friends for over ten years. What is she so jealous about? She must be mentally ill. That would explain why she’d cause a car crash on purpose.” “Poor Dr. Cole and his friend, getting stuck with a lunatic like that…” I listened numbly, nodding along when it seemed appropriate. But the online furor was too intense. The truth was bound to come out. The hospital administration figured out who I was. A few of them came to “visit” me, gently probing to see if I would be willing to make a public statement to clear the air. They said Eric had taken an emergency leave of absence and they couldn’t reach him. I refused every time. Eventually, they stopped asking and just started blaming me, muttering that I had brought this all on myself. Then, the hospital released an official video, shifting the entire blame for the accident onto my shoulders. To minimize the PR damage, they concealed the fact that I had been seriously injured and had a miscarriage. They painted a picture of a jealous, hysterical wife who had staged a car crash to hurt her husband’s friend, wasting precious medical resources and subjecting their star doctor to a vicious online mob. The same people who had championed my cause turned on me instantly. Learning I was supposedly just a jealous wife, they questioned my sanity. The mob that had attacked the ER department now directed all their venom at me. I became a pariah. They even started an online group, a “Take Down the Venomous Wife Alliance,” or something equally charming. Every few days, a new group of them would show up outside my hospital room to scream obscenities and throw things at my door. Through it all, I never said a word in my own defense. I was waiting. Waiting for the day Eric and Althea’s “friendship” was exposed for what it truly was, and for the world to see their reaction. The day the doctor told me I could be discharged, I unblocked Eric’s number and sent him a single text. “City Hall. Tomorrow. For the divorce.” I was about to block him again when his call came through. “You have the nerve to message me?” he spat. “What, now that you’re the most hated woman on the internet, you finally realize you were wrong? It’s too late for regrets.” “A divorce? Fine by me! I’m sick of you, you psycho! You’re a goddamn lunatic! And don’t even think about seeing the child after it’s born. A monster like you doesn’t deserve to be a mother.” He hung up before I could say a word. I called a mechanic and asked him to retrieve and copy the dashcam footage from my car. The next morning, I arrived at City Hall on time. And there, at the entrance, was Althea. Her eyes dropped to my stomach, and her face broke into a mask of feigned surprise. “Oh, my. What happened to the little bastard? Such a shame. But with a mother who can’t even keep her man, it was probably doomed from the start. A short, pathetic life for a short, pathetic reason. Even if it had been born, it would have just been another fatherless orphan…” Before my brain could even process the words, my hand had already flown across her face. I hadn’t even hit her that hard, but she crumpled to the ground, fat tears instantly welling in her eyes. “Althea!” Eric rushed past me from behind, shoving me so hard I stumbled backward into the middle of the street. A car screeched to a halt, its bumper inches from my head. He cradled Althea in his arms, then, as if remembering something, he whipped his head around to look at me. His gaze fell on my now-flat stomach, and all the color drained from his face. “The baby,” he choked out. “Where’s the baby?!” I struggled to my feet, a grim satisfaction blooming in my chest as I watched the panic dawn on his face. “The baby? You remember you had a child?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “You said I don’t deserve to be a mother. Do you deserve to be a father? When I was bleeding out after the crash, where were you? When the entire world was calling me a monster, where were you? When I was on an operating table, unconscious, needing my husband’s signature for emergency surgery, where were you, Eric?” His face grew paler with every word. My voice dropped to a frigid whisper. “The baby is gone, Eric. Thanks to you.” “And now, our marriage is, too.” A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, but it was quickly swallowed by rage. “Don’t you dare try to play the victim here! You brought all of this on yourself!” “You caused that accident! Althea was the one who was nearly killed, and she’s the one who forgave you! And now you have the audacity to try and pin this on me?” “Leah, how did I never see how shameless you are?” He took a step closer, his voice a low growl. “What happened to the baby? I’m asking you one last time.” A small crowd had started to gather. Someone recognized me from the news. The pointing and muttering began. “That’s her! The psycho wife who tried to kill someone out of jealousy!” “Look at her, she looks so normal. How can she be so evil?” “Dr. Cole must have the worst luck in the world, getting stuck with a venomous snake like her. If I were him, I’d have had a heart attack by now!” “And she has the nerve to blame him? After what she did? She almost killed someone! I thought this only happened in soap operas. They should lock her up in a mental hospital before she hurts someone else!” …

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My husband’s business empire crumbled, a casualty of failed investments and crushing debt. I decided to sell the gold jewelry he’d given me over the years, one piece for every anniversary. I wanted to see how much of a dent it could make in his financial ruin. That’s when I was told it was all fake. Next, I went to a real estate agent for a property appraisal. He pulled up the records right in front of me. The deed was a forgery. But the house—a five-million-dollar property—was a wedding gift from Kevin. He’d promised it would be in my name, and my name alone. What else was a lie? On a whim, I snapped a photo of our marriage certificate and sent it to my best friend, Lily, who worked at the county records office. Her reply came back in minutes. “Fake.” I stared at the crimson-bordered certificate, the official-looking seal, and a laugh escaped my lips, brittle and sharp. “Thank God,” I whispered. “It was all fake.” 1 My heart hammered against my ribs as I waited for Lily’s final confirmation. In the five years I’d been married to Kevin, I had never once doubted his love for me. His work was demanding, and he often missed our anniversaries, but he always made up for it. He’d shower me with lavish gifts as compensation, and in the days that followed, he’d be doubly attentive, doting on me. I never questioned the authenticity of those gifts. He was my husband. I loved him unconditionally. So I’d spent the entire day, from sunrise to sunset, clutching the tokens of his affection, visiting one high-end boutique after another. I’d grilled every clerk, my last shred of hope evaporating with each sympathetic shake of the head. The final blow came when a jeweler, to prove his point, held a piece of the “gold” to a flame. It blackened and crumbled into ash. The blade that had been hanging over my head finally fell. I steadied myself against the polished glass counter. “Then why,” I asked, my voice trembling slightly, “does it have a receipt from your store?” The clerk checked his system. “The receipt is real, ma’am,” he said gently. “But the jewelry you brought in isn’t ours.” So Kevin had bought the real pieces. He just hadn’t given them to me. I stared at the forged property deed in my hand and dialed the city’s land registry office. “I’d like to check the owner’s name for the property at One Riverside Drive, Apartment 101.” “Of course, one moment please,” a calm voice replied. Just then, my phone buzzed with Lily’s final, damning message. It was the death sentence for my marriage. “Julie, it’s a fake. But I checked Kevin’s records. He has a legally valid, existing marriage. The woman’s name is… Jasmine Vance.” The voice from the land registry returned. “Ma’am, the registered owner of that property is a Ms. Jasmine Vance.” Ten years ago, I had defied my parents to be with him. I’d packed my savings and moved from the quiet South to this bustling northern city to build a life with him. Back then, Kevin’s career was just taking off, and he was out networking until the early hours of the morning. To make him more comfortable when he stumbled home, drunk and exhausted, I’d wait up for him every night with a thermos of hot, soothing broth. For a decade, I never once slacked. I appreciated how hard he worked to provide for us, so I took on everything at home. I was the cook, the cleaner, the planner. He never once set foot in the kitchen. As his business thrived, the smoke and fire of my domestic life slowly transformed me into the weary, worn-out housewife he now seemed to despise. The years of household labor left me with a chronic ache in my lower back; sometimes if I bent over for too long, I couldn’t straighten up. He’d say he didn’t mind, but whenever his gaze fell on me, I’d catch the flicker of aversion before he looked away. I told myself it didn’t matter. As long as we were together, everything was fine. But the husband I thought loved me down to my bones had been living a sweet, secret life with someone else for the entire decade. Jasmine Vance. Kevin’s high school sweetheart, the one that got away. Now, she was a massively popular influencer. She’d started out with suggestive, borderline-NSFW live streams but had recently rebranded, championing a new philosophy she called “Single and Sovereign.” She preached to her legions of devoted followers that being an unmarried woman was the ultimate form of empowerment, a life of freedom to be enjoyed to the fullest. Just last week, she was trending for her “unapologetically unattached” lifestyle. I opened TikTok and found her profile. A single account had liked every single one of her videos. A quick search confirmed it: the account was linked to Kevin’s phone number. They even had matching profile pictures, a subtle couple’s set. I used to make silly videos myself, nudging him to like them like other couples did. He wouldn’t even glance at my screen, his face a mask of annoyance. “Look at that filter, Julie. It’s embarrassing. Besides, I don’t even have a TikTok.” But under Jasmine’s very first video, he had commented: “Stunning.” I looked at my own reflection in the mirror and saw a ghost of the woman I was ten years ago. I thought my devotion would be seen, would be cherished. I never imagined he didn’t even want to look. Just then, the front door clicked open. Kevin was home. He dropped onto the sofa in silence, waiting for me to scurry over with a hot drink, as I always did. When I didn’t move, he huffed, got up, and began rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. “Where do you keep the water?” he finally barked, his voice laced with impatience. Of course. After all these years, he didn’t even know where to find a glass of water. This man, who had never lifted a finger at home, had meticulously schemed to buy fake jewelry and forge official documents just to deceive me. What was I to him? An unpaid maid? I tossed my phone onto the coffee table in front of him. “Kevin, I thought you didn’t have a TikTok account. Then why have you liked every single one of Jasmine Vance’s videos? I checked. The account is registered to your phone number.” He looked startled, as if it had never occurred to him that I might check. He had been so brazen because he thought I was blind. After a long moment, he finally muttered, “It’s just business.” “Business? You’re too busy to look at your phone? You take hours to reply to my texts, but you have time to—” “Will you drop it?!” he snapped. “Her career depends on engagement and traffic. What’s the big deal if I give her a like?” It was just like before we were married, when Jasmine’s shadow loomed over our lives. Kevin remembered she was afraid of thunderstorms and would video chat with her every time it rained, even though I’d told him, countless times, that I was scared of them too. He knew all her favorite foods, and over time, they somehow became my favorite foods too. After we got married, I threw a few tantrums about it, and he finally seemed to back off. I thought his heart was finally mine. I never realized they had just found a new, more discreet way to be together. Despair washed over me. I turned and walked into the bedroom to pack. “Sweetie, I’ve got the paperwork for the capital injection into Kevin’s company almost finalized. Just waiting on your go-ahead.” It was my father on the phone. I was in the middle of stuffing clothes into a suitcase. I let out a long sigh. “Dad, cancel it. We’re not investing.” “What happened? I thought he was having cash flow problems. Tell me, did that boy do something to hurt you? I told you not to run off so far away, all alone with no one to fall back on, but you wouldn’t listen…” “No, it’s not that. I’m just… a little tired.” “My dear girl,” he said, his voice softening. “If you’re tired, you come home. Dad will take care of you.” Before I moved to this city for Kevin, I’d tested the waters, but he’d always claimed he was too busy with work to even visit my parents once. When we got married, I had a huge falling out with my family, and they didn’t attend the wedding. So, to this day, Kevin had never met them. He believed I was utterly alone, with no one to rely on but him. But what fight between a father and daughter can’t be mended? Years ago, Dad had secretly come to see me, and we had long since reconciled. When I learned Kevin’s company was in trouble, I had prepared a two-pronged plan: first, I would liquidate my own assets to help him pay off his debts; second, I would have my father inject capital to get his company flowing again. A few days ago, Kevin had excitedly told me that an investor from the South had contacted him, and the company was saved. I was genuinely happy for him, smiling and congratulating him, believing I would soon see that confident, ambitious man again. I never imagined that in this marriage I had poured my entire soul into, I was the most insignificant person in his eyes. When I walked out with my suitcase, Kevin looked baffled. “What is this? Are you really doing this over a TikTok account? Seriously? Besides, you don’t know anyone in this city. Where are you even going to stay?” I didn’t answer. I just walked out the door and didn’t look back. But Kevin followed me. I knew exactly what he was thinking. With the investment on the line, he couldn’t afford any drama. He’d once told me that these southern entrepreneurs valued character above all else, and the most direct reflection of a man’s character was his family life. Kevin followed me into my hotel room, his eyes scanning the luxurious suite. “You rented a place this nice? This must cost a fortune.” I just smiled and shook my head. This apartment, located in the heart of downtown, was worth millions. My father had secretly bought it for me the year I got married. After we reconciled, he had the deed transferred to my name. And this wasn’t all. I had over a dozen other properties in my name back south. I had originally planned to use these assets to help Kevin get back on his feet, no matter how badly his company failed. We could have started over. Now, I was just thankful I had decided to check on the gold jewelry first. What a close call. I had almost helped him rise from the ashes. Kevin sat rigidly on the sofa, waiting for me to fawn over him. He still believed he had done nothing wrong. I glanced at the tie he was wearing, a terrible mismatch with his shirt, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. For all these years, I had picked out every single one of his outfits. And all his love, he had given to Jasmine. “Julie, stop this nonsense. Come home with me,” he said, reaching for my hand. I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his fingers digging into my wrist. It hurt. “Kevin, what are you doing?!” “I said, come home with me!” I twisted my wrist sharply, breaking his grip. “And what gives you the right to take me anywhere?” He sneered. “What right? We’ve been married for five years. We are a legally married couple!” His eyes were firm, confident. “What kind of wife just walks out like this?” “Is that so? A legally married couple?” “Of course!” That’s when I threw the crimson-bordered certificate on the table. “You mean, with this marriage certificate? The one with a forged seal?” His face went pale. “You… you…” “I had Lily check. Your legal wife’s name is Jasmine Vance.” I watched his expression shift from shock to panic. He tried to deny it. “That friend of yours is just jealous of us, she’s lying to you! You can’t just believe everything she says.” I was prepared for this. I pulled out my phone and showed him the official registration document Lily had sent me. The name ‘Jasmine Vance’ was printed neatly right next to his. His face fell. “Julie, listen to me. I didn’t mean to deceive you. It’s just… she was threatening to kill herself. I did it to calm her down, that’s all… But I’ve been with you all these years! You’re the one I love, you know that!” I let out a cold laugh. “So the fake jewelry, the forged deed… you call that love?” Kevin wouldn’t leave. He kept stammering, pleading with me to go back with him. Perhaps he had forgotten that before I became his wife, I was a doctoral candidate in law. I picked up my phone. “Mr. Hayes, if you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police.” After Kevin left, I stretched out on the plush king-sized bed. So this is what it felt like to do nothing for a whole day. The release of tension was so complete that I fell into a deep sleep and didn’t wake until dusk. When I did, my phone was blowing up with hundreds of notifications. I thought maybe one of my old, silly videos had gone viral. But when I opened TikTok, I saw my inbox was flooded with vicious messages from strangers. “You’re just a housewife, what gives you the right to throw a tantrum!” “You think you can compete with our Jasmine? She’s a queen, single and sovereign!” “Get lost, you bitter hag. Stop trying to ride Jasmine’s coattails!” “With a face like that, playing the victim is your only move. Just leave our Jasmine out of it!” … Confused, I started searching online. Jasmine streamed every day, and screenshots were everywhere. It didn’t take long to find it. During her latest stream, Kevin had suddenly appeared on camera and launched into a tirade, painting me as a freeloader who had lived off him for a decade, now throwing a fit and running away from home over nothing. Jasmine fanned the flames. “It’s just typical little-woman drama. She’ll cry for a day or two and be back home in a week, guaranteed.” Then, feigning innocence, she added, “He’s just my buddy, everyone, don’t get the wrong idea.” It was clear she had no intention of making their real relationship public. At the end of the stream, Jasmine even shared my TikTok handle, encouraging her fans to “go talk some sense into her.” Kevin thought this public humiliation would break me, that I’d come crawling back to be his beast of burden. The last message in my inbox was from Jasmine herself.

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The tour bus carrying my mother-in-law and son overturned on a winding mountain road. The entire vehicle was caught on a tree, dangling precariously over a cliff, ready to plummet at any moment. My husband, Mark, was the captain of the nearest rescue squad. But when the police called for aid, they discovered he’d taken his entire team off-duty to attend his old flame’s son’s school competition. In my last life, I had to beg a friend to physically drag him from that school to save our family. But because his old flame’s son didn’t win first place, she felt humiliated and cut ties with him completely. Mark was also fired from the rescue squad for his dereliction of duty. After my mother-in-law and son were discharged from the hospital, he tied me and my friend up and threw us from that same cliff. “If it weren’t for you,” he’d screamed, “I wouldn’t have lost everything!” This time, his old flame’s son won his first-place trophy. But this time, Mark would never smile again. 1 The piercing wail of sirens sliced through the air. A sharp, urgent rapping on my car window startled me. “Ma’am, have you called for rescue?” A jolt shot through me. I turned, staring blankly at the scene before me, the chaos slowly registering. It took a moment to realize what had happened. I had been reborn. In my previous life, my mother-in-law had forgotten her scarf and called for me to bring it to her. By the time I arrived, the tour bus had already left. She told me to just follow them in my car. Then, chaos. I never knew what happened, but the bus ahead of me suddenly swerved, lost control, and plunged off the side of the mountain. I had frantically called my husband, Mark, but he’d hung up on me with an irritated sigh. I’d then called the official emergency line, only to be told that Mark had taken his entire squad off the clock to attend an event at his old flame Evelyn’s son’s school. The police officer’s voice pulled me back to the present. My hand tightened on my phone. The phantom pain of my own bones shattering on the rocks below still lingered. Seeing my stunned silence, the officer must have thought I was in shock. He pulled out his own phone and made the call right in front of me. He received the exact same answer I had in my past life. Just then, my phone rang, a desperate, tinny sound. It was my mother-in-law. “Claire! You have to save me and Leo! My battery is about to die! Call Mark, tell him to come save us!” The officer leaned in. “You have family on that bus?” “Yes,” I said, my voice shaking. “My mother-in-law and my son. My husband is Mark, the captain of the local rescue squad.” “Then call him! Now! We’ll contact other units in the meantime.” I dialed Mark’s number, the officer watching me intently. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. His voice, the one I had come to despise, crackled through the speaker. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me? I’m cheering for Zac right now!” “Mark, the bus Mom and Leo were on went off a cliff,” I said, my voice tight with urgency. “It’s caught on a tree, but it won’t hold for long. You have to come now!” Suddenly, another voice took over the line—Evelyn’s. “Claire, please, have a heart. Zac doesn’t have a father. It means so much to him to have Mark and his team here, cheering him on. Please don’t make him leave. I don’t want to ruin this for my son.” She continued, her voice taking on a martyred tone. “I know you’ve always been insecure about our past, but I promised you I would never interfere with your family. You don’t have to lie like this to get him to leave. If it makes you feel better, I’ll never contact him again after today.” Her voice broke into a sob. Mark snatched the phone back, his voice thick with rage. “You’d use my own mother and son to lie? Are you even human, Claire? The more you act like this, the less I ever want to come back to that house! I’m warning you, don’t bother me again today!” He was about to hang up when the officer took the phone from my hand. “This is Officer Miller with the Westbrook Police Department. Your wife is not lying. The situation here is critical. I’ve already contacted your squad’s dispatch, and they confirmed your entire unit is off-site. I need you and your team back here immediately. There are thirty-four lives hanging in the balance!” But the phone only erupted in a chorus of jeers from Mark’s men. “Who is this guy?” one of them slurred. “I know people at Westbrook PD. Never heard of an Officer Miller.” “Yeah, Captain’s on a pretty short leash at home,” another chimed in. “Can’t you give the guy a break? And making up a story is one thing, but why call the squad? You trying to get us all in trouble?” Even Officer Miller’s face flushed with anger at their blatant disrespect. I leaned in and whispered to him, “Please, just call another unit. That bus doesn’t have much time.” In my last life, they hadn’t believed me either. The school was close, so I had called my friend Nathan, who worked nearby. He had rushed over and found the principal, forcing Mark and his team to return. But in the end, that act of kindness had only gotten both of us killed. This time, I wouldn’t drag an innocent person down with me. But Mark had overheard my whisper. His voice turned venomous. “Enough, Claire! Who else are you going to drag into this? I know every firefighter and rescue worker in a fifty-mile radius. You dare call any of them, and I swear, I’ll show you what happens to liars!” 2 He slammed the phone down. Officer Miller was livid. “I don’t believe this. Does this guy think he’s some kind of king, that a mere squad captain can just ignore a direct order?” He started furiously dialing numbers on his own phone. I sighed. The sad truth was, Mark did have that kind of influence. He’d worked at nearly every fire station in the area. He could never get promoted, so he’d finally jumped ship when the new rescue squad offered him a captaincy right out of the gate. “It’s better to call a team from further away,” I urged. “We’re running out of time.” I knew from my past life that the bus, including rescue time, had held on for exactly forty minutes before it fell. Even with Mark’s team arriving relatively quickly back then, half the passengers had still plunged to their deaths. They could have saved everyone. But because his mother and son were at the back of the bus, he’d recklessly focused on them first. His actions unbalanced the vehicle, snapping a crucial branch and accelerating its fall. This time, even without his interference, the bus had an hour at most. A team from the next county would take about forty minutes to get here. It was tight, but at least some lives could be saved. As if on cue, my phone rang again. It was Kevin, one of Mark’s former colleagues and a frequent dinner guest at our house. “Claire, you’re putting me in a tough spot,” he said, his voice wheedling. “You and Mark shouldn’t let your little fights get this big.” “Dispatch just assigned us the call, and then Mark called me personally. You know, filing a false police report is a serious offense. You’re wasting emergency resources.” Officer Miller snatched the phone, furious. “I am the one who called dispatch. This is Officer Miller from the Westbrook PD—” Kevin cut him off. “Yeah, yeah, save it. Mark told me about you. There’s no Miller at Westbrook. Tell Claire to stop the theatrics. I’m doing her a favor here. I already had the alert cancelled for her.” 3 My mother-in-law called again. The background was filled with screams of terror. “Help us! Did you call Mark or not?” “I did, Mom. He’s not coming.” A torrent of abuse erupted from the phone. “You useless waste of space! I told Mark he never should have married you! You can’t even do one simple thing right!” Then, my son Leo’s voice, sharp and cruel. “Mom, why are you so useless? If Mommy Evelyn were here, she would have made Dad come save us by now!” Tears streamed down my face, hot and immediate. This was the family I had poured my heart and soul into maintaining. A husband who only had eyes for his old flame, a mother-in-law who despised my very existence, and a son—a son who had been turned against me, who called another woman ‘Mommy.’ My mother-in-law had always preferred Evelyn, the gentle, domestic type. I was a media executive, a career woman who had to network and meet clients. I couldn’t be like Evelyn, revolving my entire life around Mark. But for years, I was the one who paid for the house, the cars, every single expense. I made sure they had the best of everything, and in return, I received not a single shred of gratitude. I had wanted to make it work, to hold our family together. When my mother-in-law was bedridden after a surgery, I took a long leave of absence to be her full-time caregiver, handling everything from her meals to her bedpan. Her attitude had just started to soften when Evelyn reappeared with a son in tow. My mother-in-law not only rented an apartment for them in our neighborhood but also insisted they come to our house for meals every single day. Evelyn won my son over with junk food and cheap toys, turning him against me to the point where, for a long time, he called her ‘Mommy’ and referred to me only by my first name. Mark had taken our entire life savings and used it to buy Evelyn and her son a large house. “Don’t overthink it, Claire,” he’d said. “I owe this to her. As my wife, you should share this burden with me.” I was furious, but for the sake of a love I thought was real, for the memory of our first three happy years together, I had endured it. I never imagined my endurance would cost me my life. Suddenly, a rock flew through the air and struck my forehead. A warm trickle of blood ran down my face. Several other family members of the passengers had arrived, and they were throwing whatever they could find at me. “My mother is on that bus! She called me and said your husband is the rescue captain! Why isn’t he here?” “He has no right to abandon his post! This is negligent homicide! If my mom dies, I’ll make sure your whole family pays!” Clutching my bleeding head, I scrambled back into my car and tried to video call Mark. He declined it instantly and sent a text. “Stop your games! Do you want a divorce? Is that it?” Then, he blocked me. I tried his teammates. I tried Evelyn. One by one, I found myself blocked by all of them. I called my mother-in-law’s number again. It went straight to voicemail. Her phone was dead. It seems fate has made its decision, I thought, a cold resignation washing over me. I’ve done all I can. 4 The chaos outside intensified. Someone screamed, “It’s slipping! The bus is slipping! It’s not going to hold!” Despite the hatred churning in my gut, I couldn’t bear to watch all those innocent people die. I rushed out of the car and looked down at the horrifying scene. As a last resort, I called Nathan. Before I could even speak, his voice came through, urgent and breathless. “I’m almost there! I’ve got a chopper! Just hold on!” I was stunned, but he hung up before I could ask any questions. Moments later, a helicopter appeared in the distance, flying directly over the teetering bus. Nathan was the first one to rappel down, beginning the rescue. I could see his equipment wasn’t standard-issue, and someone in the helicopter was frantically giving him hand signals. But his presence was a beacon of hope for everyone. I heard my mother-in-law screaming from a window at the back of the bus. “Save me first! Are you deaf? I’m an old woman! Save me!” But I also heard the commander in the helicopter shouting to Nathan, “Follow my instructions, or you’ll send everyone plunging to their deaths!” The process was slow, but Nathan was calm and methodical, bringing people up one by one. We all stood on the roadside, holding our breath for him. Twenty minutes later, the roar of more helicopters filled the sky. The professional rescue teams had finally arrived. Tears of relief streamed down my face. The other families were embracing, sobbing with joy. “They’re saved! They’re saved!” I glanced at my phone. My heart lurched. There were only twenty minutes left before the bus would fall. In my past life, only two helicopters had come, and with Mark’s reckless interference, many hadn’t been saved. But this time, with so many rescuers, maybe twenty minutes would be enough. I stared at my phone, the timer on the screen a torturous countdown. With five minutes left, everyone had been rescued except for my mother-in-law and Leo, who were at the very back of the bus. A rescuer lowered a harness to them, instructing her to secure herself and Leo. But my mother-in-law threw a fit. “What kind of terrible service is this? You expect us to do it ourselves? Stop wasting time and get down here and strap us in! What if we do it wrong and fall? Will you take responsibility then?” The bus was tilted at such a precarious angle that the weight of one more person would send it over the edge. The rescuer pleaded with her, but she refused to listen, arguing relentlessly. As they argued, the countdown on my phone hit zero.

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The day I returned, an airline official said there was a problem with my luggage. They led me to a private room. When the door opened, the scent of roses overwhelmed me—the floor covered in red petals. And there was Ethan, my Ethan, the man I once thought was the love of my life, kneeling with a ring, his eyes full of longing. The Grant family erupted in cheers. “Marry him! Say yes!” Everyone expected me to cry and whisper “I do.” After all, I’d spent five years worshipping him before he noticed me. But they’d forgotten. Forgotten how, three years ago, Ethan accused me of plagiarizing his protégé’s work. Forgotten how he reported me for alcoholism, blaming me for a patient’s death. I was thrown out like trash, beaten by the grieving family outside. With every door closed, I fled the country to rebuild my life. Now, Ethan’s father claimed, “He spent everything to clear your name. He’s waited for you, crying over your photo.” I stayed silent, my gaze drifting to my bag—to the marriage certificate inside. 1 “That whole incident was a huge mess, Audrey. You had to give him time to sort things out. Why did you just run off in a huff?” “He’s been a wreck these past three years because you left without a word. He barely eats, barely sleeps. He’s torn this city apart looking for you.” From the moment I’d been ushered into this room, Mr. Grant had been clinging to my hand, his words a relentless stream. He had aged considerably in three years. The sharp, judgmental glare he used to give me—the one that screamed I wasn’t good enough for his son—was gone, replaced by a weary sadness. But his words were still as sharp as ever. He was trying to paint his son as a tragic romantic hero, but all I heard was blame. Honestly, the name ‘Ethan’ sounded foreign to me now. Three years is a long time. More than enough to wash away a past that was never worth remembering in the first place. It was obvious they had no idea I was married. I gently pulled my hand from Mr. Grant’s grasp, my expression a placid mask. “Mr. Grant, Ethan and I ended things three years ago. I don’t understand why you’re telling me any of this.” The Grants stared at me, their faces a collective mask of disbelief. This was not the reaction they had anticipated from the girl who once would have done anything for Ethan. The girl who had thrown away an acceptance letter from Johns Hopkins just to work at the same city hospital as him. Just to be near him. Just to take care of him. Being a doctor is a grueling profession, but I made sure he had three home-cooked meals a day. I took on his extra surgeries to ease his workload, even when I was so exhausted I could barely stand by the end of my own shifts. I even put his name on my research papers so he could get promoted faster, forcing myself through sleepless night after sleepless night, my body growing paler and more fragile. But when Ethan finally accepted my proposal, none of it mattered. It was all worth it. Suddenly, my life was a dream. I’d return to my office to find a hot coffee on my desk, a small note with his sweet words scrawled on it. When a patient’s family got aggressive, he would step in, a solid wall of protection. As our wedding day approached, we’d spend hours planning our honeymoon, picking out venues together. He once fought with the hospital director just to get a day off so we could go try on wedding dresses. I remember the look in his eyes as I twirled on the platform in a cloud of white lace—pure, unadulterated adoration. Even the shop assistant sighed, “I’ve never seen a couple so in love.” Back then, I truly believed I must have saved a nation in a past life to deserve a man like him. And then, a new doctor transferred to our department. Her name was Chloe. From that day on, Ethan stopped talking about the wedding. The coffee on my desk disappeared. At first, I told myself he was just busy, mentoring the new subordinate. I didn’t want to bother him. But then the venue coordinator called, saying they needed Ethan’s final signature. I had no choice but to knock on his office door. He sighed, annoyed. “It’s such a hassle. Can’t you just sign for me?” But when I arrived at the venue, the coordinator handed me two contracts. One for me. And one for Chloe. The groom’s name on both was Ethan Grant. 2 My hand, clutching the papers, was slick with sweat. It’s just a coincidence, I told myself, a simple mix-up of names. But when I returned to the hospital, I found my colleagues gathered around, each holding a small box of wedding candy. They were showering Chloe with congratulations on her marriage. And Ethan… Ethan was leaning against the far wall, a soft, tender smile on his face as he watched the girl at the center of the crowd. In that moment, it felt like a scalpel had plunged straight into my heart. The pain was so sharp I couldn’t breathe. He turned, and his eyes met mine. He saw the tears welling up, the crimson blush of betrayal on my face, but there wasn’t a flicker of sympathy in his expression. Just a cool, detached inquiry. “You’re back already? Did you get it signed?” My gaze swept over the laughing crowd, then back to him. I slapped the documents against his chest. “Which one are you talking about?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Mine? Or Chloe’s?” My accusation made him frown. “Can we talk about this at home? I’ll explain everything. Everyone’s having a good time right now. Don’t make a scene and ruin the mood.” A scene? Ruin the mood? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I couldn’t believe it. The man who was whispering “my wife” in my ear just a few nights ago was now standing here, humiliating me. Perhaps my laughter stung him, because a flash of guilt crossed his face. He softened his tone. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t overthink things.” He glanced at his watch. “I have a surgery now. I’ll come to your office as soon as I’m done, okay, Audrey?” He reached out, his hand gently patting my arm in a placating gesture. I flinched away, wiping the corner of my eye with the back of my hand as I turned to leave. “Fine,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. Ethan started to call after me, but he stopped himself. I waited in my office, staring blankly at a patient’s chart, the words blurring into meaningless shapes. I don’t know how much time passed before a knock came at the door. “Come in.” Ethan entered, holding a cup of coffee. “Brought you this. I heard you have a long surgery later. This should help.” I glanced at the cup. It was blank. No note. I gave a quiet “mmhmm.” “Chloe is my junior from medical school,” he began, his voice earnest. “Her family is very traditional, and they’ve been pressuring her to get married. A few days ago, her mother threatened to kill herself over it. She asked me to help her out, just for a little while.” He paused, watching my reaction. “I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d misunderstand.” I sipped the coffee, listening in silence. Finally, I asked, “So, you two are legally married?” He hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. Seeing the look on my face, he rushed to explain. “Don’t worry. As soon as I meet her parents and they’re satisfied, we’ll get a divorce. Chloe’s not the clingy type. She promised.” He sounded so sincere, but the whole story was just… insane. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Seeing my continued silence, he reached into the pocket of his white coat and pulled out a small box. He dropped to one knee, his eyes locked on mine. “Trust me, Audrey. You’re the only one I love.” His voice was a low, desperate plea. “I know this is hard on you. But once this is all over, I promise I’ll give you the grandest wedding you’ve ever seen.” Before I could even think to refuse, he slid a diamond ring onto my finger. Then he took out the matching band and put it on his own. The brilliant sparkle on my hand seemed to calm the storm in my heart, just a little. Maybe… maybe he really was just helping a friend. 3 He never wore that ring again. His excuse was flawless: he couldn’t wear it during surgery. He and Chloe became inseparable at the hospital, acting for all the world like a devoted couple. They were in the conference rooms together, the cafeteria, the hallways. They were the hospital’s golden couple. And I became the “crazy ex.” Rumors started to spread that I was a bitter mistress who couldn’t accept defeat. I was about to set the record straight when Chloe cornered me. She strolled up to me, hands stuffed in her pockets, a smug, challenging look in her eyes. “Dr. Lin,” she began, using my formal title, “Ethan is my husband. I hope you’ll stop bothering him from now on.” She smirked. “He told me everything. He only got with you because you hounded him relentlessly. No wonder a relationship built on begging is so fragile.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do yourself a favor. Resign.” My nails dug into my palms, but my face remained a mask of calm. “Chloe, I have no intention of resigning. And you are not my superior. You don’t have the authority to fire me.” She laughed, a sharp, unpleasant sound. She pulled her hands from her pockets and crossed them over her chest. “Oh, really? Let’s make a bet, then. A bet on how you’ll be leaving this hospital.” I ignored her and simply showed her the door. That evening, I told Ethan everything. To my shock, he didn’t believe me. Instead, he turned on me. “I already told you I’m going to divorce her! Why can’t you just be patient? Why do you have to make up such ridiculous stories to attack her?” His voice rose with frustration. “She’s trying to force you to resign? Logically, isn’t it more likely that you’re the one trying to drive her away?” “Audrey, stop it. I’m trying to focus on my career right now. I thought you’d support me, help me, like you used to. The least you can do is not add to my stress.” … I hung up the phone. I pulled the ring from my finger and tossed it into the back of a drawer. Ethan was right. I needed to focus on my career. My own ambitions had stagnated while I poured all my energy into him. It was time to change that. I threw myself into studying for the annual board certification exams. In the weeks that followed, Ethan and I became ghosts to each other. We didn’t speak. We didn’t text. If we passed in the hallway, we were strangers, not even colleagues. Finally, the day of the exam results arrived. I was called into the director’s office. He slammed his fist on the desk, his face red with fury. The research paper I had submitted was identical, word for word, to Chloe’s. Faced with the accusation, I wasn’t nervous. I knew my work. I was a far more skilled researcher than she was. But no one in that room believed me. Someone shoved a phone in my face. It was Chloe’s social media feed, filled with daily updates on her “progress” with the paper. My colleagues had, in effect, watched her “write” it from scratch. A torrent of insults rained down on me. “Plagiarist.” “Thief.” My eyes scanned the room, past the accusing faces, until they landed on Ethan, standing at the very back. He deliberately avoided my gaze. And in that moment, I knew. There was only one other person in the world who knew the password to my computer. It was his birthday. The evidence was damning. The director demoted me on the spot. I ignored him. I pushed through the crowd of scornful colleagues and walked straight up to Ethan. I grabbed his chin and forced his head up, making him look at me. “Ethan,” I asked, my voice deadly calm, “do you also believe I copied her?” I saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes, a tiny hesitation before it was extinguished, replaced by a single, devastating word: “Yes.” A small, broken laugh escaped my lips. I let him go. As I turned away, my eyes burned so intensely I felt they could bleed. “Audrey…” I heard him call my name, his voice suddenly uncertain. But I didn’t stop. I walked straight out of that conference room and didn’t look back. After that day, my colleagues began to shun me completely. No one wanted to be associated with the “plagiarist,” the “homewrecker.” I didn’t care. I buried myself in my work, a phantom flitting between the office and the operating room. A demotion was nothing. I could climb my way back up. Until the day the director threw a letter in my face. An anonymous tip. An accusation that I had performed surgery while intoxicated, resulting in a patient’s death. For a moment, the world tilted. The words were English, but they made no sense. “Director, there must be a mistake,” I stammered. “That patient had a severe congenital heart defect. He was critical when he arrived.” The director didn’t speak. He just gestured to the witness he’d brought in. The anesthesiologist from that surgery—Chloe’s best friend. “Director, she’s Chloe’s closest friend! Chloe and I have a history. This is a setup!” “Enough!”

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1 Hooves pounded across the Royal Hunt grounds when Crown Prince Alaric’s arrow struck an orphan—Seraphina Moss, his disgraced mother’s niece. No one predicted he’d fall instantly in love. “She’ll be my princess,” he declared. Problem: he was engaged to me, Lady Evelyn of House Ashbourne. Alaric came to my estate, jaw set. “I bound her wounds. We touched. She’s ruined—she must marry me.” His gaze flicked to me. “You’re the Queen’s niece. You have options. Must you steal from a helpless girl?” As if a Ashbourne would fight for a man. Absurd. Before the scandal spread, a royal decree arrived: I’d keep the title of Crown Princess—but the role would go to another. … Prince Alaric stood in the grand hall of my family’s estate, his posture straight and proud. But his gaze never left the delicate figure of Seraphina Moss beside him. “Seraphina is fragile,” he announced to the assembled guests. “She has only just arrived in the capital, and she has already met with such a disaster. I injured her. If I do not marry her, how can she possibly go on?” “Lady Evelyn, you must understand. For a woman, honor is everything. Seraphina now has no other path but to marry me.” “If you have any compassion at all, you will agree to end our engagement.” So this was it. He had been smitten with her since that first glance at the hunt. For two months, he had kept it hidden, only to choose my birthday—of all days—to publicly humiliate me and my family. My father’s hands trembled, rattling the teacup he held. He cast aside all decorum. “Your Highness,” he demanded, “do you have any idea what this will do to Evelyn’s future? What of her honor?” “You begged the Emperor for this match yourself! The entire capital knows of your betrothal to my daughter. To come here now and break it… what does that make of House Ashbourne?” Seraphina, her face a mask of fear, tugged gently on Alaric’s sleeve. “Cousin, please, don’t argue with Lord Ashbourne on my account. I am not afraid of whispers and rumors. At worst, I shall take my own life. I could never bear to be a burden to you.” Alaric wrapped a protective arm around her. “Do not be afraid,” he murmured. “I will not let you face them alone.” Then, he looked at me, his expression a mixture of arrogance and disdain. “Lady Evelyn, you come from a noble house. Surely you would not deign to compete with Seraphina for a man. You have your pick of worthy suitors. To cling to this engagement would only make you appear desperate.” “Or perhaps,” he sneered, “you are just like all the other women in this city, greedy for the title of Crown Princess.” “Since our betrothal, you have refused every invitation to ride, every poetry gathering I have hosted. You’ve been cold and distant. It’s clear you were never happy with this match. Annuling it should be a relief for you.” The House of Ashbourne had never endured such an insult. I was speechless with rage. All I could do was retrieve the betrothal contract. “Your Highness. Here is the contract. From this day forward, our paths diverge. You are free to marry whom you please.” My gaze fell on Seraphina. “And Miss Moss, there is no need for such a sorrowful performance in my home. You have found a wonderful match. Soon you will hold the most coveted position in the empire. Shouldn’t you be happy?” Seraphina swayed, her face turning deathly pale. “Lady Evelyn, I know my station is low. I would never dare compare myself to you, nor did I intend to steal your fiancé. Why must you mock me so?” Alaric let out a scornful laugh. “You were very quick to end things, Lady Evelyn. Could it be you already have another man in your heart? Perhaps my actions have done you a favor?” He swept his gaze across the guests. “Today is your birthday. Why not choose a new suitor right now? I will even provide a lavish wedding gift myself.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Seraphina and left, a smug smile on his face. The hall erupted in whispers. “Has the Crown Prince lost his mind? Breaking his engagement for some unknown cousin!” “But Lady Evelyn is the Queen’s niece! She’s his cousin too!” “You haven’t heard? He shot this Seraphina girl during the hunt and fell for her on the spot. Now he insists on marrying her.” “I’ve never even heard of this woman. The security at the royal hunting grounds is impenetrable. How did she even get in? There’s more to this story.” “I heard she’s related to the Prince’s birth mother…” “Hush! Don’t speak of that. The Prince’s origins are a forbidden topic. His mother was nothing but a lowly palace maid.” My birthday celebration was ruined, ending in chaos and humiliation. And overnight, the news that Crown Prince Alaric had jilted a daughter of House Ashbourne for an orphan girl became the scandal of the capital. 2 The next day, I was summoned to the palace by the Queen. She is my father’s sister, my true aunt, and has always doted on me. Though she has reigned as Queen for many years, she remains childless—a constant, hidden sorrow. Alaric’s birth mother was a scullery maid the Emperor happened upon at a country palace. She was so low-born that even after catching the Emperor’s eye, she was never granted a title. She died shortly after Alaric was born. Because of his mother’s status, Alaric was bullied by everyone, even the palace eunuchs. He nearly didn’t survive his childhood. But my aunt, the Queen, was the Emperor’s cherished favorite. Her power in the palace was absolute. Seeing the boy’s pitiful state, she took him in, raised him as her own, and educated him with the utmost care. And so, although he was only the fourth-born prince, his adoption by the Queen made him the natural choice for Crown Prince. She held my hand, her voice filled with pain. “My dear child, I know you have been wronged. Alaric is a fool who doesn’t appreciate his blessings. I taught him for years, I promised him the most beloved daughter of our house, and he casts you aside for a pretty face he’s only just met!” “With such judgment, how can he ever hope to rule? All my years of guidance have been wasted.” Her voice cracked. “The blood that flows in his veins is not of House Ashbourne, after all. He is not my own. I see now that he can never truly be.” I leaned against her knee, clutching her sleeve. “Aunt, it is not a bad thing that the Prince has shown his true character before our marriage. It is better than me suffering after I have entered the palace.” “A daughter of House Ashbourne will not lack for suitors.” The Queen smiled, stroking my cheek. “Our Evelyn is the finest woman in the empire. Rest assured, the position of Crown Princess is yours and yours alone. No one can take it from you.” The Emperor and Queen were childhood sweethearts. Their bond was deep. Even without an heir of her own, she remained the woman he loved and trusted most. Because she raised Alaric, the Emperor’s affection extended to him as well. He had made the son of a palace maid the Crown Prince. Now, the Emperor had heard of the broken betrothal and was furious. “Fool! The greatest houses in the land would move heaven and earth for a daughter of House Ashbourne, and you cast her aside for some nobody?” “The Queen arranged this marriage to give you the backing of a great house! You have no maternal clan to support you. This was your foundation, and you have destroyed it with your own hands! You are as witless as a pig!” The Emperor stormed out, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. Despite the Emperor’s fury, Alaric remained defiant. He brought Seraphina with him to pay his respects to the Queen. He knelt before her. “Mother, you have always cherished me. All I wish is to marry a woman I love. I am the Crown Prince. Surely I can marry someone of my own choosing?” The Queen looked at him with profound disappointment. “You and Evelyn grew up together. You once knelt before me and begged for this marriage, claiming you adored her, that you would support each other as equals for a lifetime. And now you say she is not the woman you love?” “It seems to me that this Seraphina has blinded you.” Alaric held his head high, his hand clutching Seraphina’s. “Mother, Evelyn is just like all the other dull noblewomen—bound by rules, stiff, and utterly lifeless. But Seraphina is different! She laughs, she jests, she dances dances never before seen at court, and sings all manner of rustic folk songs. She is vibrant and captivating! Mother, if you only got to know her, I am certain you would love her too!” 3 From behind the screen, a scornful smile touched my lips. Singing folk songs, performing vulgar dances, and being “captivating”? You could find a girl like that in any tavern. The Queen’s voice was ice. “Alaric, do you have any idea what you will lose without the support of House Ashbourne?” The Prince laughed. “I know you speak of the backing of the great houses. But Mother, I am the Crown Prince, the future ruler of this empire. The entire world is my domain. What have I to fear?” His face brightened. “I know you are fond of Evelyn. Why not let her be my consort? When I ascend the throne, I will make her a Noble Consort. Surely House Ashbourne would not dare to object?” Behind the screen, I clenched my fists. The insolence of this boy. The Queen’s voice was chilling. “A daughter of House Ashbourne will never be a secondary wife. Alaric, you are my adopted son, but you are not the Emperor’s only son. Do you truly believe you can hold your position on your own?” “Of course,” he replied, his voice firm. “I am the future Emperor, Mother.” Seraphina spoke in a soft, weak voice. “Your Majesty, I know my station is low. If Lady Evelyn joins the palace, I will never compete with her. I will treat her as a sister, and we will serve His Highness together.” The Queen let out a short, sharp laugh. “Hmph. Alaric, you had best be certain. Once you marry Seraphina, there is no turning back.” His voice rang with conviction. “Yes. I will have no regrets.” The Queen waved a dismissive hand. “Very well. You may leave. I will issue the decree in a few days.” The Prince’s arrogance was boundless; he clearly held no respect for the Queen’s family. I knew my aunt had made her decision. I said no more and slipped away. As I was leaving the Queen’s palace, Alaric cornered me at the gate. “Evelyn, I was impulsive yesterday. After some thought, I admit I was wrong.” “My father, the Emperor, reprimanded me today. I realize now that I should not have damaged your reputation.” “I have already requested that my mother, the Queen, decree Seraphina as my official Crown Princess. But the position of Royal Consort is not a slight to you. This way, we can still be together, and I will not have broken my promise. What do you say?” He looked at me with such tenderness, as if expecting me to nod in grateful acceptance. He was disappointed. I took a step back. “Your Highness, our betrothal is over. There is nothing more to discuss.” He reached for me. “Evelyn, I know I was wrong. Please, forgive me this once. I can apologize to you in front of everyone, restore your honor. How about that?” I snatched my hand away. “Your Highness, please conduct yourself with dignity. You declared with your own lips that our betrothal was void. Have you forgotten?” Alaric advanced, trapping me against a pillar. “Evelyn, a woman must be sweet and obedient to be loved. We were betrothed. A woman rejected by the Crown Prince… who in the empire would dare marry you? If word gets out, your life will be ruined.” I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze. “You need not concern yourself with my affairs, Your Highness. A daughter of House Ashbourne will never lack for suitors. Even if you scream yourself hoarse, the nobles of this land will still line up at my family’s door.” His face darkened. “Evelyn, a little temper is charming. Too much, and a man loses all interest.” “I will inform the Emperor that the wedding will proceed as planned. When you are my consort, I will take the time to properly teach you how to behave.” From that day on, the Prince paraded Seraphina all over the capital. Because his future bride had no family of means, he commissioned the city’s most luxurious jewelers and silk houses to craft a dowry for her, working day and night. Seraphina had never seen such finery in her life. She stroked the silks, her eyes wide with wonder. Alaric held her close, spending gold like water. “I want everyone to bow to you. One day, you will be the most revered woman in the world.” He showered her with gifts, and a cloud of sycophants followed them everywhere, praising him as a man of true passion, a man who would defy the Emperor and Queen for love, who would cast aside the powerful House of Ashbourne for a humble girl. It was, they said, deeply moving. The more he heard it, the more pleased he became. “I love only you,” he told Seraphina, taking her hand. “One day, you will be my Empress, and rule by my side. Who will dare to speak ill of you then? They will all kneel at your feet. As for that girl from House Ashbourne, she will be fit only to serve you.” Seraphina leaned weakly against his chest. “Cousin, are you truly giving up Lady Evelyn for me? She is the daughter of a great house, the Queen’s own niece. She is far more suited to be Crown Princess. As long as you have me in your heart, I am willing to give up the position. Just seeing you every day is enough…” “Besides, the Queen does not seem to like me. I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” Alaric hugged her tightly. “Do not worry. I am the Crown Prince. Can I not give the woman I love the title of princess? House Ashbourne, for all its power, is still a house of subjects. Offering her the position of consort is the greatest honor I can bestow upon them.” “My mother has no children of her own. She raised me. Who else can she rely on? She will yield, you’ll see.” “As for Evelyn Ashbourne… When a king gives an order, his subjects must obey. I want her as my consort, and House Ashbourne will have no choice but to deliver her to my palace!”

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