Category: English

1 After luring me abroad, Randall O’Neill held a lavish engagement party with his first love back home. I saw it on a stranger’s phone—him, taking her hand, slipping my wedding ring onto her finger. The guests were buzzing with surprise. “So she’s the one Mr. O’Neill truly loves!” Randall just smiled, a silent confirmation. Then, he announced he would offer the legendary stallion, Obsidian, as a betrothal gift to his new fiancée. Seeing this, a calm smile touched my lips. My heart, weary and heavy, simply teleported back across the ocean. What Randall didn’t know was that I came from a thousand years in the past, here only to repay a debt to his family. And Obsidian, the legendary stallion? He was my companion, my steed. I had given him to Randall as a gift on the day we registered our marriage. Now, watching their fingers intertwine, a profound exhaustion washed over me. A promise that spanned a millennium, shattered in a single moment. It was time for Obsidian and me to go home. … Randall probably never imagined I could teleport, faster than any airplane he could charter. By the time I returned, his proposal to Isabelle had been a resounding success. Photos of their blissful moment still scrolled across the grand screens of the hotel ballroom. I was sitting in the office of the Keeper of the Veil, the guardian of time travel, watching it all unfold. The Keeper, Silas, was trembling. “My lady,” he stammered, “are you sure? Perhaps Mr. O’Neill has a reason for all this… a difficult situation…” I pointed a slender finger at the giant screen outside the window, at the intimate photos of the happy couple. “Are you suggesting I’m blind, Silas?” He shook his head frantically, trying to placate me. “But Mr. O’Neill gave explicit orders to have everything restored to normal before your return! He still cares for you, my lady, he does—” I raised a hand, cutting him off. My voice was sharp as ice. “A mere Keeper,” I said, “after a few days as Randall O’Neill’s assistant, have you forgotten your place and your duty?” In truth, I knew exactly what Randall was doing. Isabelle was his childhood sweetheart, a dream from his youth. Now that she was back, they had a silent understanding. This was their chance to give their “missed connection” a perfect, storybook ending. This engagement party was their gift to themselves. He had coaxed me into taking a trip abroad precisely to keep me in the dark while he and Isabelle carried on with their sordid affair. He wanted to give her a love that was bold and public, while I remained his secret, hidden wife. But I saw it. And I would not tolerate impurities in my love. If Randall chose her, then he could have nothing to do with me. Silas, shaking, processed the paperwork and stamped my release. “The full reversal process will take seven days,” he informed me. I slammed my palm on the desk, shattering it into splinters. “Seven days is too long. You have three.” I turned and left without another word. Behind me, I heard Silas stamping his feet in frustration. “Oh, Mr. O’Neill, what have you done? You foolish, foolish man! It’s over now. You can live with your regret.” Once outside, I teleported to a high vantage point, a spot with a perfect view of the hotel where they were celebrating. The guests had all departed. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the presidential suite, I saw Randall and Isabelle, their gazes tangled, electric. They were wrapped around each other. After several glasses of champagne, Isabelle had gone limp in his arms. I saw a flicker of conflict in Randall’s eyes, but it passed. His hands slid around her slender waist, and he carried her upstairs. Even though I knew it was over, I picked up my phone and called him. “Randall,” I said, my voice light, “where are you? Do you miss me?” His voice was thick with guilt, trembling slightly. “Cathy! Of course I’m at home. I miss you so much. I wish I could fly to my beautiful wife’s side right this second.” A cold smile touched my lips. Oh, really? Then let me grant your wish. “Then come pick me up. I’m at the airport.” Randall shot to his feet, glancing at Isabelle, who was now stirring on the bed. His brow furrowed. “Cathy, isn’t your flight supposed to land tomorrow night? Why don’t you head home first? I have to leave right now, the office just called an emergency meeting.” “Alright,” I said, and hung up. A chill seeped into my very bones. I had given him a chance. He chose Isabelle. The moment he hung up, Randall frantically ordered his subordinates to take down all the public screens and begin damage control. On the bed, Isabelle let out a soft moan. Randall turned, a fond look on his face as he gently pulled the covers over her. She had been faking it, of course. Seeing her chance, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Without a moment’s hesitation, Randall loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and their bodies became a mess of tangled limbs. Watching them, I couldn’t say I wasn’t hurt, but a greater sense of release washed over me. After centuries of wandering, my heart longed for my family from a thousand years ago. Now, finally, I could go home. The sight of their carnal embrace disgusted me. I had no interest in watching the rest. I turned and went back to the house Randall and I had shared. As I was packing the few things I had left there, a picture message arrived on my phone. It was from Isabelle. It showed her and Randall, locked in a passionate kiss, her body covered in love bites. Along with the photo came a single, taunting sentence. “Cathy, has he ever been this wild with you? Two boxes of condoms are already empty.” A sharp pain lanced through my heart, but I was never one to take an insult lying down. I sent back a photo of my own. “I don’t know about Randall, but I’ve certainly seen the pictures of you getting wild with that muscle-bound trainer in Europe.” Message sent. I could just imagine Isabelle, sleepless and frantic all night. It was wonderful. I slept like a baby. 2 The next day, after clearing out my room, I went to the stables to retrieve Obsidian. Obsidian was more than a horse I had brought from the past; he was family. He had once saved Randall’s life when he’d nearly been thrown from another horse. Randall had always doted on him, even building him a private, state-of-the-art stable. But I was sorry. I could part with everything else, but not Obsidian. I was taking him back to our time. Our family was waiting. The moment I teleported to the stables, I heard his cry of pain. I rushed inside, and the sight that greeted me made my blood boil with rage. Obsidian was chained, and Isabelle—holding a barbed whip she’d gotten from who-knows-where—was lashing him relentlessly. Her eyes were filled with a vicious cruelty. Every strike was meant to maim. “You ugly beast! You think you’re worthy of being my wedding gift? One day, I’ll throw you and that bitch of a master out of here!” she shrieked. “That pathetic bitch dared to threaten me with a photo? I’ve already had all the evidence destroyed. Let’s see how she threatens me now!” Obsidian screamed in agony, his glossy black coat split open, blood pouring from the wounds and pooling on the pristine grass in a shocking, crimson puddle. The scene drove me to the brink of madness. I flashed over to Isabelle, grabbed her, and delivered a series of sharp, stinging slaps. She shrieked in terror, her viciousness vanishing the moment she saw my face. She immediately began to beg. “Cathy! What are you doing here?! No, I’m sorry, please, don’t hit me!” I sneered and raised the whip, ready to bring it down on her. But it never landed. Randall caught it mid-air. The second Isabelle saw her protector, she burst into theatrical, tear-streaked sobs. “Randall, save me! Cathy’s gone crazy! She’s trying to kill me with this whip!” Randall, who I hadn’t seen in days, didn’t even spare me a glance. He rushed to Isabelle’s side, comforting her. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here now. She won’t dare to touch you.” Finally, he looked up at me, his voice a block of ice. “Cathy, what is the meaning of this?” I pointed a trembling finger at Obsidian and told him exactly what Isabelle had done. Isabelle panicked, her sobs growing louder. “Randall, darling, I didn’t mean to! It was Obsidian, he was being disobedient, he kicked me in the stomach! I just lost my temper and hit him a few times, I didn’t realize I’d grabbed the wrong whip… I really didn’t mean it…” It was the most ridiculous excuse I had ever heard. But Randall believed her. He lifted Isabelle’s shirt to look at her stomach. Sure enough, there was a faint red mark. He turned his cold glare on me. “Cathy, Obsidian is just an animal. So what if Isabelle hit him? It wouldn’t matter if she beat him to death. How can you compare a beast to a person? You shouldn’t take advantage of my affection for you to attack Isabelle. Apologize to her. Now!” My heart shuddered. Obsidian had saved his life, and now he was calling him a beast. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Apologize? Fine. On one condition: we get a divorce.” At the mention of divorce, Randall flew into a rage. “Cathy, have you not caused enough trouble? You want a divorce over something so trivial? Can you stop being so unreasonable?” “Unreasonable? Why don’t you check the security cameras? Then we’ll see who’s being unreasonable!” At the mention of cameras, Isabelle, who had been enjoying the show, went pale. “Randall, darling, I’m fine, really. Please don’t fight with Cathy because of me…” She made a show of trying to stand, looking faint. Randall immediately rushed to support her, his glare fixed on me. “Cathy, Isabelle is being the bigger person here. I don’t want to argue with you. Go home and think about what you’ve done.” He then helped Isabelle walk away. As they reached a safe distance, she turned and flipped me the middle finger. I turned back to Obsidian, unfastening his chains. I whispered in his ear. “My brave boy, want to get some revenge?” Obsidian understood. He let out a powerful neigh and shot forward like an arrow, closing the distance to Randall and Isabelle in a heartbeat. With a single, powerful kick, he sent them both sprawling, face-first, into the mud. I clutched my stomach, doubled over with laughter. Randall glared at me, his face a mask of fury. Isabelle, however, was more cunning. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed in a dramatic faint. Randall panicked. He made a huge scene, rushing her to his family’s hospital. I stroked Obsidian’s neck as he trotted back to me, sighing. “Well, my boy, I think we might be in a little trouble.” 3 When the test results came back from the hospital, an exhausted Randall called me. “Cathy, look what your beast has done. The doctor said Isabelle was kicked in her womb. She’ll never be able to have children. This is your fault. Come to the hospital and apologize. If you beg, maybe she’ll forgive you for my sake.” My hand holding the phone trembled slightly. Obsidian was incredibly intelligent. He would never have truly harmed her. Besides, even I, an outsider, knew that Isabelle had spent years planting her own people throughout Randall’s hospital network. Forging a medical report would be child’s play for her. When I arrived at the O’Neill Family Hospital, a group of doctors glared at me with contempt. “How can another woman be so vicious? Forcing her animal to attack like that.” “Please. Everyone knows she’s just jealous that Ms. Isabelle is Mr. O’Neill’s first love.” I ignored them, my gaze fixed on Randall, who was silently feeding Isabelle a spoonful of medicine. He hadn’t told anyone about our secret marriage, and it was clear he had no intention of clarifying things now. I remembered my father’s words about the life debt. I could tolerate being nameless, but Obsidian was my line in the sand. An apology was out of the question. But I was willing to offer compensation. “Randall,” I said, my voice steady, “this entire incident began because Isabelle attacked Obsidian first. She was the one in the wrong. However, I am willing to give her this hospital as compensation—” Before I could finish, Isabelle’s face went white. She pouted, tears welling in her eyes. “Randall, darling, she’s cursing me! Who wants a hospital as compensation? I just want that beast dead! Or I want its stomach cut open!” Isabelle screamed hysterically, and Randall wrapped his arms around her, soothing her. “Okay, okay, Isabelle, don’t get excited. I promise you, darling, whatever you want…” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Randall, if you dare touch a single hair on Obsidian’s head, I will make you and Isabelle pay a price you cannot imagine.” Randall stood up, his fingers digging into my arm as he leaned in, his voice a venomous hiss in my ear. “Cathy, what do you have to threaten me with now? Have you forgotten that after we married, you signed all of your shares over to me? You’re not the Vice President of O’Neill Industries anymore!” He smirked. “Be a good girl. Be the wife behind the man. Don’t talk back to your husband.” His words were like a snake’s poison. I looked up at his triumphant face, and my heart turned to ice. Was this truly the descendant of the man who saved my grandfather? How could he be so selfish, so utterly repulsive? Seeing the dawning realization on my face, Randall smiled. Isabelle, too, looked satisfied. The medical staff in the room snickered. But I simply pulled out my phone. “Hello, Linda,” I said into the phone. “Issue a corporate directive. Effective immediately, Ms. Isabelle is blacklisted from all O’Neill Industries subsidiaries and affiliates. Anyone who dares to employ her or work with her is to be terminated, no exceptions.” Randall stared at me in disbelief. He lunged forward, snatching the phone from my hand and smashing it on the ground. “Cathy, are you insane? It’s just a horse! Do you have to be so malicious?” He grabbed my wrist, his voice a growl through clenched teeth. I grinned. “Randall, have you forgotten? Obsidian saved your life. Without him, you would have broken your neck and died during that riding lesson years ago. You wouldn’t even be here to be such an ungrateful bastard.” Randall fell silent. He let go of my hand, looking helplessly at Isabelle on the bed. Finally, he turned back to me. “Cathy, this is the last time. If Obsidian dares to hurt anyone again, I will not be so lenient.” His tone shifted, becoming cold and official. “However, I will be sending out a memo. From this day forward, you no longer have any say or decision-making power in the company. To compensate Isabelle, I will be appointing her to your former position as Vice President, and she will join the core management team.” At this, Isabelle’s eyes lit up with joy. The doctors and nurses in the room immediately began congratulating her. I just laughed, looking at him as if he were the biggest fool in the world. Did Randall really think I had made a real phone call? They didn’t realize it, but in that moment, I had completely and cleanly severed myself from O’Neill Industries. 4 Seeing that I had no objection to his decision, Randall let out a sigh of relief. He dismissed the medical staff, then turned back to whisper a few sweet nothings to Isabelle, which made her blush deeply. He pulled me out to the parking garage, his expression and tone instantly softening. He looked at me with deep affection as he explained. “My darling wife, there were so many people there. You have to help me keep up appearances, right?” He continued, “And about Isabelle… yes, she’s my first love, that’s true. But I also feel sorry for her. Both of her parents are gone. In this whole world, I’m the only one she can rely on. Do you understand?” I smirked, a bitter irony twisting my lips. Randall seemed to have forgotten that in this world, I, too, was all alone. But it didn’t matter. After tomorrow, Cathy would cease to exist. I couldn’t care less what kind of sordid life he wanted to live with Isabelle. As for our marriage certificate, the Keeper would handle its annulment. After his little speech, Randall made an excuse about having work to do and left. I knew he was going back to Isabelle. Just to be safe, I took Obsidian to the Keeper’s sanctuary. With that done, I returned home. The moment I opened the door, I saw Isabelle lounging on the sofa, eating fruit, while Randall massaged her calves. Seeing me, Randall jumped up and began to explain. “Isabelle has nowhere else to go…” I waved a hand, a generous smile on my face. “It’s fine. Do you want me to give you the master bedroom?” Randall frowned, but Isabelle, surprisingly, was incredibly polite to me. “Cathy, I’m so sorry to impose. Don’t worry, as soon as I find a place, I’ll move out. I promise I won’t disturb you and Randall.” Her sincere expression sent a shiver down my spine. After Randall went upstairs to prepare a room for her, Isabelle sat across from me and began to prepare tea. “Heh,” she began with a little laugh. “Randall told me he hasn’t touched you yet. He says you’re an old-fashioned prude, insisting on a grand wedding before you’ll sleep with him. What century are you living in? A woman like you will never be able to hold onto a man.” I watched her skillful, practiced movements as she prepared the tea, saying nothing. She placed one cup in front of me, and one in front of herself. I almost laughed out loud. Such a clumsy, pathetic attempt at a setup. Just as we heard Randall’s footsteps coming down the stairs, Isabelle suddenly raised her voice, a bright smile on her face. “Wow, Cathy, the tea you made smells amazing!” With that, she drank her cup in one gulp. Randall reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to see it. He was about to praise my tea-making skills when Isabelle suddenly coughed, spraying a mouthful of blood onto the floor. Randall was horrified. He rushed over to her, frantic. Isabelle clutched his shirt, her voice weak. “Randall, darling… I tried so hard to please Cathy, but it seems she still can’t accept me…” At that moment, any explanation I could offer would have been pointless. I expected Randall to fly into a rage, to lecture me and protect Isabelle. Instead, he calmly called for an ambulance to take Isabelle to the hospital. Then he walked me back to my room and kissed my forehead. “My love, so much has happened these past few days. You must be exhausted. I haven’t made you my special soup in so long. Tonight, I’ll make some for you, to help you recover.” He turned and went downstairs. I watched his retreating back, an infinite coldness spreading through my heart. If I didn’t know what he was planning now, I was no better than a fool. After he coaxed me into drinking the sweet soup, a look of relief flashed across Randall’s face. I pretended my consciousness was fading. His soft voice whispered in my ear. “Sleep, Cathy. Sleep now. Don’t blame me…” Next, I was carried into a black van. Randall, his face a mask of sorrow, kissed my forehead one last time, finally revealing his true intentions. “Cathy, I know what you’re capable of. For Isabelle’s safety, I have to do this. Just for a little while. Once you’ve cooled down, once you’ve learned to coexist peacefully with Isabelle, I’ll let you come back…”

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1 It was Family Day at the kindergarten. My wife, Carol, claimed she had urgent business at the office and told me that Lily and I should skip it, too. My heart ached seeing the disappointment wash over my daughter’s small face. I couldn’t stand it. I decided to take her myself. We had barely stepped through the gates when I saw her. Carol. She was holding a little boy’s hand with one hand, and with the other, she was holding the hand of Andrew, her childhood friend. They looked like a real family of three, laughing and chatting, a perfect picture of domestic bliss. It was only when she saw Lily and me that a slight frown creased her brow, and she finally let go of Andrew’s hand. “Mark, don’t get the wrong idea,” she said, her voice a little too quick. “Andrew’s a single dad, it’s not easy for him. Today is his son’s fifth birthday, and he just wanted to feel what it’s like to have a mother around.” I gave her a long, meaningful look, then crouched down to take my daughter’s tiny hand in mine. “Honey, say hello to the nice lady.” … Andrew, seeing the tension, quickly pulled his son closer, an apologetic look plastered on his face. “Mark, please don’t be angry. Carol was just being kind. This boy… he’s never had a mother. It’s his fifth birthday today. Carol was just helping him fulfill a dream, just for a day.” A humorless smile touched my lips as I stared him down. “Is that so? Well, now that Lily and I are here, I suppose you can give Carol back to us? After all, we’re the real family of three.” Andrew froze for a second. It was his son, Max, who broke the silence. “Mommy, you promised you’d spend today with me and Daddy!” The five-year-old’s eyes, fierce and possessive, glared at me. I raised an eyebrow. Mommy? They were already at that stage? Before I could say another word, Carol stepped in front of them, shielding them as if they were her own. Her voice was laced with impatience. “Mark, you have a child too. Don’t you have any empathy?” she snapped. “Andrew and I grew up together. I’m just spending one day with them. Just one day! Are you really going to make a scene about this?” I almost laughed out loud. Was Andrew’s misfortune somehow my fault? Just then, other parents began to stream into the kindergarten, leading their own children by the hand. A woman waved as she approached. “Max’s mom, Max’s dad, good morning! You three always look so perfect at these Family Day events. Not like my old man, always using work as an excuse. He doesn’t care about our kid’s development at all.” Andrew managed an awkward hello, and I saw a flash of panic in Carol’s eyes. I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Carol, is this what you call ‘just one day’?!” Her face flushed with anger. She grabbed my arm, her grip tight. “Mark, there are people everywhere! Don’t make a scene!” Then, glancing down at our daughter, she lowered her voice to a hiss. “It won’t be good for Lily if this gets ugly, you understand?” Lily, hearing her name, looked around, confused. She didn’t grasp what was happening, only that something was wrong. She pressed her small body against my leg, her hand, now slick with sweat, clutching mine tightly. I felt her fear. I knelt, gently stroking the little ponytail perched on top of her head. “Daddy’s here,” I whispered. “Nothing to be afraid of.” I watched as Carol led Andrew and Max away, their backs turned to me. Within moments, they were surrounded by a crowd of admirers. I could hear their fawning compliments. They praised her for her business acumen, calling her one of the city’s top female executives, the CEO of a billion-dollar company before she’d even hit her mid-thirties. Carol, naturally, basked in the glory, her pride practically radiating off her. Andrew stood beside her, his gaze fixed on her, glowing with a vicarious sense of achievement. Then, Max, held in Carol’s arms, glanced back at me over her shoulder and pulled a defiant, mocking face. A cold smirk crept onto my face. It seemed Carol had let the success get to her head. Yes, I had been spending less time at the office lately to care for Lily, but I still owned 75% of Apex Holdings. I was the one who truly steered the ship. She was just a manager, a title I’d given her out of a sense of spousal duty after she’d latched onto me. I pulled out my phone and sent a text to HR. “Ms. Roberts, remove Carol from her managerial position. Internal announcement Monday.” Then, another to my legal team. “Mr. Davis, draft my divorce papers.” Carol, oh, Carol. If you want to play me for a fool, you’d better be sure I’m not the one holding all the cards. 2 Soon, the Family Day activities officially began. Each family sat at a pre-assigned table. Lily gazed at Carol, who was sitting in the row ahead of us with Andrew and Max, and asked with a quavering voice, “Daddy, why isn’t Mommy sitting with us?” I squeezed my daughter’s soft cheek. She was too young, too innocent to be dragged into this filth. “Because Daddy is a superhero,” I said, forcing a smile. “To make it fair, Mommy is helping the other kids today.” Just then, the teacher announced the first activity—a block-building contest. “And there’s a prize for first place!” she chirped. “A brand-new spaceship Lego set!” Lily’s eyes lit up. She pointed at the box on display. “Daddy, I want that!” “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s do our best!” As the last grains of sand were about to fall through the hourglass, Lily shot her hand into the air, her voice filled with excitement. “Teacher, we’re finished!” The teacher walked over, nodded in approval, and was just about to announce our victory when a small figure darted over from the front row. It was Max. He shoved our carefully constructed masterpiece, sending the blocks crashing to the floor. “Now I’m number one!” he declared, his chin held high in triumph. Lily stared at the ruins of our work, her eyes instantly welling with tears. In a fit of rage, she grabbed a large wooden block and threw it at Max. The first thing Carol said when she rushed over was, “Lily, how could you hit him?! Apologize to Max right now.” A stubborn fire ignited in Lily’s eyes. “No! He pushed my blocks over first! He’s a mean bad guy!” I stood firm behind my daughter. “Carol, anyone with eyes can see who started this. Max owes Lily an apology.” Andrew hurried over and tugged on Carol’s arm. “Carol, let it go. Let’s not stoop to their level. We can be the bigger people here.” The teacher tried to mediate, but just then, Lily’s voice, thick with tears and betrayal, cut through the air. “Mommy, why aren’t you protecting me? Why are you yelling at me?” That one word—Mommy—froze everyone in place. All eyes darted between Carol, Andrew, and me. Color drained from Carol’s face, then flooded back in a crimson tide. Andrew looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Max planted his hands on his hips and glared at Lily. “Who’s your mommy? What are you talking about? She’s my mommy!” My daughter hiccuped, a fresh wave of tears streaming down her face. Her small, milky voice cracked as she cried out, “Mommy, say something!” My heart shattered. I shot Carol a furious glare, my own voice turning harsh. “Carol, are you not going to explain? Are you just going to stand there and let them misunderstand our daughter?” Carol’s eyes flashed. She swept Max up into her arms. “Explain what? For today, I am Max’s mom!” As if to punctuate the statement, she stroked the back of his head. Instantly, the whispers started. The other parents began pointing at me and Lily. “What’s with that kid, calling anyone Mommy?” “I don’t think Lily’s family ever comes to these things. This time it’s just the dad… you don’t think he’s… you know… someone’s side piece?” “I heard that Carol woman is a big-shot CEO, super rich. Maybe Lily’s dad is some gold-digger who tried to hit on her and got caught by his own daughter.” As the venomous rumors swirled around us, Carol said nothing. She just cooed at Max, while Andrew shot me a look of barely concealed amusement. I pulled my sobbing daughter into my arms, gently patting her back. I wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug looks off their faces with my fists, but this wasn’t the time. I couldn’t let Lily be hurt any more. One of the parents, hoping to curry favor with Carol, chimed in with a sycophantic smile. “The young master and Ms. Carol look so much alike! You could be mother and son.” I glanced up at Carol. I saw a flicker of guilt in her eyes before she laughed it off. Andrew, however, was beaming. I’d seen Andrew and his son before, but how had I never noticed? The resemblance between Carol and Max, around the eyes… it was undeniably there. Lily was still crying, unable to stop. I had no choice but to ask the teacher to show me to a quiet room so I could calm her down. In the staff lounge, I held her, whispering reassurances until her sobs quieted and she finally drifted off to sleep. Looking at her swollen, red-rimmed eyelids, my heart twisted into a painful knot. I gently laid her down and slipped out of the room. As I reached the turn in the hallway, I pulled out my phone and dialed my team. “Mr. Davis, Ms. Roberts, I need you both at the Rockwell Kindergarten now. Bring my marriage certificate, the divorce papers you’re drafting, and Carol’s termination letter. And be quick about it.” I was still on the line, hashing out the details, when a piercing scream ripped through the air. It was my daughter’s voice. My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. 3 At the end of the hall, by the bathroom doors, Lily was on the ground, pushed down and sobbing uncontrollably. The ringleader standing over her was Max, his face twisted with malice. “I told you not to call her your mommy! I’m gonna beat the crap out of you!” He punctuated the threat with a vicious kick to Lily’s stomach. She cried out in pain, trying to scramble away, but two other boys grabbed her arms and held her down. “Little homewrecker’s kid deserves a beating!” “My mom says bastards like you should’ve been drowned at birth!” Lily flailed, her small hands batting uselessly at the air, her cries choked and breathless. “You’re lying! She is my mommy! Daddy… Mommy… help me!” “It hurts so much!” “Daddy… Mommy… where are you!” The sight sent a roaring thunderclap through my head. Blood surged, and I felt as if every vein in my body was about to burst. When the boys saw me, their eyes widened in fear at the look on my face. They exchanged panicked glances and scattered like rats. I swept Lily up into my arms and felt her whole body trembling violently. I immediately called 911. “It’s okay, baby, Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here.” By the time the ambulance arrived, a crowd of curious parents had gathered. I sprinted toward the flashing lights, my daughter cradled against my chest. As I passed the activity area, I saw Carol, smiling as she helped Max with his block tower while Andrew stood by, tenderly wiping sweat from her brow. She heard the commotion and looked up, a flicker of confusion on her face. She started to get up, asking, “What’s going on? What’s wrong with Lily?” But Andrew grabbed her hand, stopping her. “Carol, you promised you’d spend today with Max. You have no idea how happy he was last night when I told him he’d have you all day.” Carol hesitated. In that moment of hesitation, I was already in the ambulance with Lily. My daughter had passed out. The paramedics began working on her immediately. When a female medic lifted Lily’s shirt to examine her, she gasped. “She’s so little… who could do something like this?!” My eyes burned with tears, my body shaking with a fear so profound it was paralyzing. On my little girl’s pale skin, angry purple and blue bruises were already forming, with a massive, fist-sized hematoma blooming on her side. Her small body was still shuddering from the shock. The medic’s voice became urgent. “Get the monitor on her, now!” Two hours passed before Lily was stable. Two hours that felt like an eternity. A toxic storm of regret and hatred churned inside me, growing wild and uncontrollable. My own mother was there, weeping with heartbreak and anger. “How could you let this happen? How could you let her suffer so much!” On the hospital bed, with an IV drip in her arm, Lily’s eyes fluttered open. She looked at me, her gaze clouded with confusion. “Daddy, why does everyone say Mommy doesn’t want me?” she whispered. “But I have a mommy. Why didn’t she protect me?” I leaned down and pressed a long, gentle kiss to her forehead. “Daddy will always, always protect you, Lily. You are my most precious treasure in the whole world,” I told her, my voice thick with emotion. “As for your mother… we’re the ones who don’t want her anymore.” When I returned to the kindergarten, the final Family Day activity was underway: drawing a family portrait together. Carol was patiently coloring in a drawing, with Max nestled quietly in her lap. Andrew stood beside them, a look of pure contentment on his face as he snapped pictures of his perfect little family. A scene of tranquil, domestic joy. But why should they get to enjoy this bliss while my daughter was lying in a hospital bed? I stormed over to them and, without a word, swung my hand across Andrew’s face. The force of the blow sent him stumbling backward, and he crashed into the corner of a table with a sickening thud. The sharp crack of the slap stunned everyone into silence. “Mark, what the hell are you doing?!” Carol shrieked. She rushed to Andrew’s side, her eyes filled with concern as she checked his injuries. “Andrew, are you okay? Does it hurt?” Andrew shook his head, playing the victim. “Mark, you must have misunderstood something. I… I apologize to you.” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “A verbal apology? Don’t you think that’s a little… insincere?” I moved to punch him again, but Carol lunged to block me. I pivoted, and the full force of my swing landed squarely on her face. A bright red handprint, five fingers starkly visible, blossomed on her cheek. She stood there, stunned for a second, clutching her face. Then, she exploded. “Mark, are you fucking insane? Who do you think you are?!” The kindergarten teachers rushed over, trying to break up the fight, asking what had happened. I pointed a trembling finger at Max. “That little bastard,” I snarled, my voice shaking with rage, “took a group of boys and ganged up on my daughter while I was gone!” Before the words were even fully out of my mouth, Andrew blurted out, “That’s impossible! Max is a good boy. Carol, you have to believe me!” I took a step closer. “Impossible? Then why do you think a 911 ambulance was just here?!” Once again, Carol positioned herself in front of Andrew and Max, a human shield. “They’re just children! What kind of evil could they possibly have in their hearts? Kids roughhouse, it happens! But you… you overreact, you come in here swinging like a maniac!” Seeing my unyielding fury, she saw her chance. In a swift movement, she shoved me with all her strength. I lost my balance and fell, my palm scraping hard against the concrete, drawing blood. The sycophants who had been fawning over her moments before now gathered around, looking down on me, their voices dripping with scorn. “Is this guy for real? Trying to shake down the CEO for money?” “He has no idea who he’s messing with. He’ll be crying when Apex Holdings’ legal team is done with him.” “You think maybe he tried to seduce Ms. Carol before and got shot down? Now he’s back to cause trouble. Look at him, he’s nothing compared to her husband!” “Typical homewrecker behavior!” Just then, the sound of powerful engines grew louder, and three sleek, black executive cars screeched to a halt outside the kindergarten gates. A parent with a sharp eye gasped. “Those cars have the Apex Holdings logo! That’s the executive fleet!” Someone else chimed in, still sucking up. “See? Ms. Carol is no joke. She’s already called in the corporate lawyers.” He then spat in my direction, his face a mask of smug satisfaction. “You’re finished, buddy. Everyone knows the Apex legal team is the best in Rockwell. They never lose. Get ready to pay up and go to jail!” One of the parents, a social media influencer, was already giddy with excitement, her phone held high. “I can’t believe I’m seeing this! Guys, you are not going to believe the drama! Follow me now, and I’ll live-stream the downfall of this male gold-digger!” Andrew’s face lit up with a mixture of surprise and adoration as he gazed at Carol. Beside him, Max puffed out his chest, looking more arrogant than ever.

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The day the King was ambushed, my husband—the Captain of the Royal Guard—was busy placating his childhood sweetheart, who had stormed off in a fit of pique. I did not light the signal flare in my hand. Instead, I stood before the King, my belly swollen with child, and became his human shield. I made this choice because, in my previous life, I had lit that flare. My husband had abandoned his precious Elara to rush to the King’s side. He was hailed as a hero, named Lord Protector of the realm for his valor. But Elara, left alone, fell into the assassins’ trap and was killed on the spot. My husband said nothing at the time. But on the day I gave birth, he threw me into the Beast Pit. As the creatures closed in, I screamed at him, demanding to know why. He gave me a single, cold glance. “The King has a legion of guards. Why did I, and only I, have to return? It must be that you, with your eyes only for power and wealth, deliberately summoned me!” “If you hadn’t lit that flare, would Elara have died? The suffering she endured… I will make you repay it, tenfold!” The beasts tore me apart, devouring even the newborn child from my womb. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on the day of the King’s assassination. … 1 “Protect the King!” The black-clad assassins moved with deadly precision. I took a reflexive step back. I was truly reborn. And it was right at the beginning. My eyes fell to the signal flare clutched in my hand. While no one was watching, I hurled it into a nearby lake. Then, with all my strength, I threw myself in front of the King, who was locked in a desperate struggle with the attackers. I saw the shock in his eyes as I became his shield, absorbing blow after brutal blow meant for him. I watched as the confusion in his gaze slowly gave way to disbelief, then to a dawning sense of awe. I knew, in that moment, that my gamble had paid off. My husband, Lord Valerius, was the Captain of the Royal Guard. He was meant to be by the King’s side at all times. Yet today, with the King’s life in peril, he was absent. He was chasing after his pouting first love, Lady Elara. In my last life, I had lit the flare, fearing he would be reprimanded for his absence. Instead, after being showered with titles and honors, he decided I was a power-hungry shrew who had orchestrated Elara’s death. He had me thrown into a pit of wild beasts he had “prepared” just for me, a final, gruesome end for me and my child. Since the heavens had granted me a second chance, I would not walk that same path to ruin. I shielded the King with my life. Blades plunged into my body, but I gritted my teeth and refused to make a sound. The King had other guards nearby; if I could just hold on until reinforcements arrived, I would live. The King understood this. Though it pained him, he took shelter behind me. The assassins, realizing my intent, exchanged a look. Then, one of them drove his sword deep into my abdomen. My child. I was eight months pregnant. I felt him move within me every day. In my last life, just before the end, I could have sworn I heard him cry. This single blade felt more agonizing than being torn apart by a hundred beasts. A raw scream tore from my throat. My vision swam with red. I felt their killing intent focus on me, the final blow about to fall. A sharp, tearing pain radiated from my core, different from the agony of my first death. I felt something precious, something vital, slipping away from me. I reached out, but my hand only found the King’s blood-soaked tunic. The thunder of approaching footsteps. I heard the King’s frantic roar. “Healers! Where are the Royal Healers? Whose lady is this? Someone, attend to her!” I opened my mouth, but only blood came out, spilling in crimson waves. The King knelt beside me, heedless of the gore. With the last of my strength, I forced out the words. “I am… the wife of the Captain… of the Royal Guard… Lord Valerius.” 2 After speaking, I felt myself slipping into darkness. But a sharp prick from a healer’s needle jolted me back. “My lady, you cannot sleep,” he urged, wiping sweat from his brow. “If you sleep now, you may never wake. Think of your husband, your child! They are waiting for you!” The King’s voice joined his. “Yes, yes, that’s right. You have saved the Crown. When you recover, I shall name you Lady Protector of the Realm, and you will want for nothing. And your child! If it is a girl, she shall be betrothed to my son, the Prince. If a boy, he will be granted a great title. You must hold on! I’ve already sent for Lord Valerius!” I managed a weak, bitter smile. I was no fool. The moment that blade entered my womb, I knew my child was lost. As for Valerius… he would not come. Just then, the messenger the King had dispatched returned, breathless. He fell to his knees, his eyes fixed on the floor. The King’s brow furrowed. “Where is Lord Valerius?” The page trembled. “My lord… Lord Valerius refuses to come. He said… he said not to use such cheap tricks to gain his sympathy.” The boy’s head hit the stone floor with a dull thud. I knew Valerius must have said far worse, things the page dared not repeat in the King’s presence. Of course. In Valerius’s heart, I was worth less than a single hair on Elara’s head. And yet, I was his lawfully wedded wife. Elara was merely his mistress. He had abandoned his post, abandoned his King, to chase after her. That signal flare… I had knelt and begged him for it before he left. In my last life, I lit it, and he called me ambitious. In this one, the King himself summoned him, and he ignored the call. If he loved Elara so much, why had he ever married me? Rage surged through me, and I coughed up another mouthful of blood. The healer, his cap askew, glanced nervously at the King. “Your Majesty, the Lady’s emotions are too volatile. If she does not have family by her side at this critical moment, I fear she will not survive!” The King looked at me, his jaw tight with fury, but he swallowed his anger. He pulled a heavy, carved jade pendant from his belt and threw it to the page. “Go. Tell him it is a command from his King. If he does not come, I will have his head!” He was truly enraged now. He was surrounded by guards, yet on this day, the one who mattered most was gone. I had nearly died for him, yet he could not even summon my husband. For a man of his absolute power, it was a profound humiliation. My condition was too fragile to be moved. The healers could only keep me alive with needles and potions while they brewed a stronger draught. When the page returned again, I was still conscious enough to hear his report. This time, he was not alone. With great effort, I opened my eyes. I saw a face I knew all too well from my past life: Elara’s handmaiden, Leah. Leah had originally been my maid. But after I became pregnant, she had started poisoning my food. By the time it was discovered, I was on death’s door. I had been about to have her executed when Valerius had walked in, Elara on his arm. I still remember the way he looked at me—with such coldness, as if I were not his wife, but his mortal enemy. Elara had been weeping, clutching Leah’s hand, her eyes pleading with me. “My lady, how can you be so cruel? You are not dead. Why must you take this girl’s life? It is monstrous! Valerius, my love, perhaps you could give her to me? Though I am only your mistress, surely I have the power to save one small life.” 3 Valerius had turned to Elara, sighing with a weary fondness. “You are too kind, my love.” Then he faced me. “Elara is right, Lyra. You are not dead. Why make such a fuss? Give Leah to Elara. And in the future, try not to be so dramatic over trivial matters.” I had stared at him in disbelief. I was carrying his child, and had almost been poisoned to death, yet he thought it was a trivial matter because I had survived. There was no justice in it. But at that time, I still loved him. I believed he was simply blinded by Elara, and that as his wife, I should be magnanimous. Then one day, I overheard them talking. Valerius’s eyes were full of adoration. “You silly girl. Next time you use poison, be more discreet. If you’re caught again, I won’t be able to help you.” Elara wrapped her arms around his, cooing. “I know, I know. Thank you for your help this time, my lord.” Leah stood nearby, smiling. The three of them, a perfect picture of harmony. And I, standing in the shadows, felt as if I’d been plunged into a frozen hell. All along, Valerius had known. He had even encouraged it. I was the only one who had been a fool. The hatred from that memory boiled within me, and seeing Leah again made my blood run hot. But in her eyes, my agitation was a sign of guilt. Her initial timidity vanished, replaced by a smug confidence. “Lady Lyra, my lord says he is with my lady Elara now. As for you, as long as you don’t die, it’s fine. If you bother him again, he will send you a writ of divorce! Not only that, he will make the child in your belly call my lady ‘Mother’!” “My lord also said that he never liked you. He only married you because your family had power and could help his career. Now that he is Captain of the Royal Guard, he keeps you around out of the kindness of his heart. If you continue to cause trouble, you will have only death to look forward to!” By the time Leah finished, the King’s face was black with rage. He smashed his teacup on the floor, and the servants in the hall dropped to their knees in a wave of fear. But Leah, oblivious, strode up to my bedside, sneering. “Lady Lyra, I advise you to save your energy. Your little act won’t work on my lord. And as for this… commoner?” She gestured vaguely at the King. “If you think you can make my lord jealous, you are sorely mistaken.” “When I tell my lord how you risked your own child to carry on an affair with this man, do you think he will have you drawn and quartered, or simply torn limb from limb?” She was gloating. The King’s royal robes had been ruined, and he was now wearing a simple linen tunic. She had mistaken the King of the realm for my secret lover. The King’s expression was unreadable, a mask of cold fury. He gave a sharp, humorless laugh, and with a nod, the guards who had just arrived seized Leah. She finally realized her mistake and opened her mouth to scream, but a page muffled her cries and dragged her away. “Take her,” the King’s voice was like ice. “Have her drawn and quartered. And throw her remains before Lord Valerius. I am very curious to see what is so special about this man that Lady Lyra would suffer so much for him.” I noticed the King’s choice of words. Lady Lyra. He had already separated me from Valerius in his mind. My gamble had not been in vain. 4 The life-saving draught the healers had been preparing was finally ready. I drank it down and gratefully fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke, a strange handmaiden was helping me sit up. “My lady, the attempt on His Majesty’s life is a matter of great importance. The King has returned to the palace, but he has commanded that you are to rest and recover here, under his protection. He will visit you once things are settled.” I nodded. In my last life, the investigation into the assassination had been a long and arduous affair. It was only after it was concluded that Valerius received his rewards. The King had been through a great ordeal; it was a testament to my sacrifice that he remembered me at all. All I had to do now was wait. I was just about to speak when the sound of frantic footsteps approached. Before I could turn, a rough hand seized my chin. It was Valerius. His face was a thundercloud. “You have some nerve,” he snarled, “to have Leah tortured and killed behind my back!” “Do you have any idea how much Elara grieved when she saw Leah’s body? You venomous shrew! I must have been blind to ever choose you!” His blow sent my head snapping to the side, my cheek burning. “Is that so?” I whispered, wiping away a tear. “Then let us divorce.” I had been holding those words in for so long. I had planned to wait for the King’s official decree, to leave Valerius with honor and grace. But I couldn’t bear it any longer. The hatred and grief from my past life, combined with the pain of this one, swirled around me like a suffocating cocoon. Valerius, who had been so self-righteous, froze. He frowned, his eyes raking over me, and just as I wondered what he was thinking, Elara appeared. The previous day’s turmoil seemed to have had no effect on her. She was as beautiful as ever. The moment she entered the room, Valerius had eyes for no one else. He gently gathered her into his arms, the same hand that had just struck me now caressing her face with infinite tenderness. “What are you doing here? You haven’t fully recovered.” Elara shook her head. “My lord, I was worried about you. I came to see you, only to hear you arguing with my lady again, and all because of me. I cannot bear to see you and my lady in such pain. Perhaps… perhaps it would be best if you divorced me! Then you would have no more worries.” She began to weep, her tears falling onto Valerius’s tunic. He was beside himself with pity, fumbling to comfort her. “Don’t say such foolish things. You know you are the only one in my heart. Her… she has my pity only because she carries my child. A woman like her could never raise a child properly. Once she gives birth, I will give the child to you to raise, and I will make you my equal wife!”

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I froze—there in the arcade was my husband, Hayden Blackwood, kneeling to tie a pink-haired girl’s shoelaces. The ruthless CEO now cradled her ankle as she kicked impatiently, his face full of submission. His friends laughed. “Damn, Mr. Blackwood looks hot kneeling! Princess Gigi trained him well!” I fled. At home, Hayden winced as I scrubbed off his tattoo: [Gigi’s Dog]—with a streak of pink dye matching her hair. “You’ve heard the rumors,” he said coldly. “I’m pursuing her. Track me again, and you won’t remain Mrs. Blackwood long.” My phone buzzed. A girlish voice chirped: “Aunty, don’t worry—a 37-year-old geezer isn’t my type anyway.” 1 The call ended with a peel of silvery laughter. I finally looked in the bathroom mirror and saw the tear tracks that had carved their way down my face. My assistant sent over the girl’s profile. Gigi Li, 19 years old. A middle-school dropout who smoked, drank, and got into fights. Besides a pretty face, the only thing she had going for her was her family background—a fact I wasn’t sure Hayden was even aware of. “Vivienne, does your husband have a sister? What’s with those pictures from the arcade?” My best friend, Summer, texted me a link. The photo was a crystal-clear shot of Hayden on one knee, tying Gigi’s shoelaces. The comments section had already exploded. [Isn’t that the CEO of Blackwood Industries? I thought he was an only child. How could he suddenly have a sister who hasn’t even graduated college?] [He’s obviously cheating. Mrs. Blackwood is, what, thirty-five? What man doesn’t prefer someone younger? I just didn’t expect Mr. Blackwood’s taste to be so… unique. He passed on all those high-society debutantes for an e-girl.] [Wow. So fifteen years as a model couple can’t compete with a little novelty?] I scrolled mechanically, each comment a needle in my heart. Fifteen years. From meeting in college to a strategic marriage that merged our family empires, everyone said we were a rare case of true love in the world of high society. How ironic it all seemed now. The next morning, just as I had for the past six years, I woke up at six on the dot to make breakfast. Hayden walked into the dining room as I was pouring his coffee. He glanced at the table and then, without warning, swept his arm across it, sending the plate crashing to the floor. Scalding coffee splashed onto the back of my hand. I flinched, my skin instantly turning red, a searing pain shooting straight to my heart. “Ah!” I bit down hard on my lip, my years of training in composure preventing me from crying out again. “Ten years. Every single day, it’s the same thing.” Hayden’s voice was as cold as ice. “Scrambled eggs and toast, black coffee. Even the placement on the plate has never changed.” I stared at my burned hand as he continued. “Look at you. You’re always like this.” “The same boring business suit, the same severe bun. Even your expression looks like it’s been measured and set.” He stepped closer, reaching out to pull my hair free from its bun. “Not a single strand out of place. You’re more of a doll than a person.” My hair fell around my face. I looked up at him. “Isn’t that what a socialite is supposed to be?” “Ha!” He laughed, a short, sharp sound. “That’s why I can’t stand it! Gigi cries, she laughs, she yells when she’s hurt, she jumps for joy when she’s happy. And you? You get burned like that and you don’t even make a sound. Are you a person or a machine?” I slowly knelt, picking up the broken shards of porcelain one by one. In that moment, I decided this sham of a marriage was over. But I needed to end it with dignity, not like this. “Vivienne, can’t you even argue?” I remained calm. “Miss Lee posted a video of you two drinking on her social media yesterday. She was quite impressive, chugging straight from the bottle.” A flicker of pride crossed Hayden’s face. “She’s real.” “Is she?” I honestly thought Hayden had lost his mind. At the charity gala, I had stood in heels for five hours, networking with every guest on his behalf, not even daring to drink too much water, all to maintain our perfect image. When a key partner backed out at the last minute, I led my team through three all-nighters to create a new proposal. The stress gave me stomach cramps so bad I was drenched in cold sweat, but I just popped a painkiller and kept working. And now. He thought some little girl who chugged beers at a club and threw tantrums could fill the role of the lady of the Blackwood estate? Had he been blinded by love, or did he simply believe that Blackwood Industries was now so powerful it no longer needed a composed, capable woman at its helm? 2 I watched him drive away. A moment later, a notification popped up on my phone. Hayden had just liked another post from my alternate account, “Jasmine.” I opened our chat. The last message was from him, sent late last night. Hayden: Sometimes, I feel like talking to you is the only time I’m truly alive. I’d created this account five years ago. We had just gotten married, and Hayden had stumbled upon it by chance. He’d started confiding in “Jasmine,” pouring out his thoughts and frustrations. I shut my phone off and walked into the closet. I looked at my reflection—the bespoke suit, the flawless makeup. This was the Mrs. Blackwood that Hayden needed. Poised, elegant, eternally proper. Hayden thought that in finding Gigi, he had discovered his true self. But he would never know that the person he connected with most deeply had been by his side all along. Just then, a man who had been a silent contact in my phone for years sent me a message, asking to meet. I stared at the name “Leo Lee” for a full ten minutes before typing out a single word: “Okay.” I met Leo at his racing club. Before I could even speak, he pulled out his phone, the screen displaying my “Jasmine” account. “So, Miss Spencer is even more beautiful in person. I have to admit, I’m a fan.” We’d seen each other countless times at galas and business meetings. “Let’s skip the pleasantries. You asked me here for a reason.” He snapped his fingers. “Want to try something really exciting?” Half an hour later, I was strapped into the passenger seat as Leo handled the wheel with one hand. The roar of the wind was almost louder than the engine. I clung to the seat, but as we took the most treacherous curve, a laugh escaped my lips. Leo shot me a surprised glance, then started laughing too. “Now I believe you’re the Jasmine from the internet.” It was late when I got home. The light in the foyer was on. Hayden was standing at the top of the stairs, his eyes fixed on the grease stain on my racing suit. A sarcastic smile twisted his lips. “Trying to be like Gigi now, playing race car driver?” I placed the pack of cigarettes I’d bought on the coffee table. The metal case made a sharp, clean sound. Hayden’s expression changed instantly. “A clumsy imitation.” He used an idiom I’d always hated. I calmly unzipped the racing suit. “If you feel I’m no longer suitable to be your wife, we can discuss a divorce.” He froze, then let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Vivienne, can you afford the humiliation? Isn’t the title of Mrs. Blackwood what you’ve always dreamed of?” He was right. I had dreamed of it. My father had said the Blackwoods were out of our league, but I had knelt in the rain for three hours until my mother agreed to try and arrange a meeting. The night before our engagement, Hayden’s own mother had warned me that the Blackwood family didn’t need a daughter-in-law; they needed a beautiful, capable ornament who could manage their public life. She had asked me if I could be eternally proper, if I could promise to never embarrass Hayden. Looking back, her careful planning had been utterly destroyed by her own son. “You’re the one who cares about the title,” I said, finally letting a small smile show. “Hayden, you’ve always been the one obsessed with appearances.” Without me, who else in our circle was a more suitable match? Back in my room, a message from Leo was waiting. “Sorry, Vivienne. I just found out about my sister and your husband.” I knew it was a polite excuse. He had asked me out today for two reasons: one, because of “Jasmine,” and two, because of his sister. I replied curtly: “See you at the jewelry gala.” That night, Hayden found “Jasmine” online and immediately started complaining. “My wife is being so unreasonable! She’s trying to get my attention by copying Gigi and going racing!” I let out a cold laugh and deleted the message. The next morning, the kitchen was silent. When Hayden came downstairs, the dining table was bare. No warm milk, no sandwich. “Where’s breakfast?” he asked, frowning. I was sitting on the sofa, reviewing the program for the jewelry gala. I didn’t look up. “Don’t you have hands?” He was taken aback for a moment, then sneered. “Copying Gigi again? How much have you been investigating her? Do you really think acting out like this will get my attention?” The memory of his message to “Jasmine” made my blood boil. The idiot actually thought I would imitate that little punk? I looked up at him, my voice dripping with a sarcasm I had never used with him before. “You’re overthinking it, Mr. Blackwood. I’ve just realized that serving a blind man is incredibly boring.” His face darkened instantly. “Vivienne, have you been getting a little too bold lately?” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I stood up and headed upstairs. Hayden followed, grabbing my shoulder. “Vivienne, I’m warning you, stay away from Gigi.” I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. He shoved me, and I stumbled backward, my foot missing a step. Thump! I tumbled down the stairs. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. I curled into a ball on the floor, a cold sweat instantly soaking my back. 3 Hayden stood at the top of the stairs, a flicker of panic in his eyes that was quickly replaced by cold indifference. “Stop pretending. It was only four steps. Are you trying to act like you’re dying?” I bit my lip, saying nothing, as I felt a warm trickle between my legs. “Hospital… take me to the hospital.” The pain was so intense I could barely form a sentence. Hayden’s expression finally changed. He scooped me up and rushed toward the door, but his phone rang halfway there. “Gigi’s in a holding cell? Okay, I’m on my way.” He dumped me at the hospital entrance, told a nurse, “She took a fall,” and then turned and left. In the emergency room, the doctor took off his mask. “It was a threatened miscarriage. We’ve managed to save the baby, for now.” Lying in the hospital bed, staring at the white ceiling, I started to laugh. Hayden would never know what he had thrown away today. I forced myself to get up and go to the jewelry gala. The suit I had personally ironed for Hayden was now folded neatly under Gigi’s bare legs. She was holding a bowl of spicy noodle soup, the red broth filled with cilantro—the one herb he despised. Love really does make you tolerant. “Vivienne! You must be Hayden’s wife, right?” “Come eat with us!” Gigi waved at me, her pink sequin dress glittering under the lights. I only then noticed that her dress was the exact same shade as Hayden’s tie. As I walked over, the guests around us started whispering. “Why aren’t you angry?” Gigi asked, stirring the noodles in her bowl. “If I were you, I’d have dumped this soup on his head by now.” I smiled. “Why would I be angry?” “Because I’m stealing your husband!” she said, her voice loud enough to make the woman at the next table nearly choke on her wine. “Do you like him?” I asked. Gigi wrinkled her nose. “Of course not. He’s old and boring. Not my type at all.” “Then why accept his gifts? Why wear a dress that matches his tie?” I looked at the red oil stain on Hayden’s cuff. “Why let him tie your shoes in public, and break all his rules for you?” Gigi stopped chewing. She stared at me, dumbfounded, for several seconds. Then, she slammed her chopsticks down and pulled out her phone. “Mr. Blackwood, I’m transferring you the money for everything you’ve given me!” Not long after she sent the voice message, Hayden appeared, tugging at his tie. He looked anxious, his usual cool demeanor completely gone. The moment he saw me sitting next to Gigi, his face hardened. “What did you say to her?” “Vivienne, are you using a little girl to fight your battles for you?” Gigi jumped up, pulling at his hand. “Hey, you’re hurting her!” “Mr. Blackwood, I figured it out myself! It has nothing to do with her!” She took out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen. “The bags, the necklaces, all the other stuff you’ve given me these past two months—I’m cashing it all out and sending it back to you!” Hayden grabbed her arm. “Gigi, you don’t have to do this. I’m serious about you.” “Don’t call me that!” Gigi stood up, her pink hair bouncing. “Do you know how pathetic this is? You have such an amazing wife at home—she’s beautiful and kind—and you’re chasing after me?” Her voice grew louder, echoing through the ballroom. “You had me use your knee as a stepping stool to get into your car, you tied my shoes in public, and now you have me wearing this dress to piss off your wife? Mr. Blackwood, are you some kind of a freak?” The entire room fell silent. Hayden’s face turned a shade of gray. He whipped his head toward me. “Did you teach her to say that?” Before I could answer, Gigi stepped in front of me. “Hey! Who are you yelling at? I told you, I figured it out myself!” 4 “Anyway, you’re not allowed to come near me again. If you do, I’m leaving this place and never coming back!” I thanked Gigi. I hadn’t expected my supposed rival to be quite so… unpredictable. Just then, my phone buzzed in my purse. The hospital’s number flashed on the screen. “Miss Spencer, your aunt collapsed. She’s in emergency surgery right now…” The blood in my veins turned to ice. “I’m on my way.” I hung up and scanned the room for Hayden, but only saw Leo standing nearby. I walked over quickly. “Tell Hayden my aunt is in critical condition and I have to go. Please try to keep things under control here.” With that, I turned and ran for the exit. But at that moment, Gigi was walking toward me with a glass of champagne. We collided hard. The champagne tower next to us came crashing down. Gigi fell into a sea of broken glass. “Ah!” she cried out, her face pale with pain. Shards of glass were embedded in her arm. Hayden appeared out of nowhere and shoved me. “Vivienne! Are you insane?” I stumbled back, my back hitting a wall of people. Gigi tried to stand, but fell back down. Her calf was also bleeding from several deep cuts. Hayden knelt to check her injuries, roaring at me without even looking up. “Apologize! Now!” “I never knew you were such a vicious, cold-hearted woman! She was already planning to cut ties with me, what more do you want?” The ballroom was dead silent. Every eye was on us. “You wanted to leave? Fine. You can go after you finish this bottle as an apology.” I took a deep breath and picked up an unopened bottle of red wine. The harsh liquid burned my throat, but I didn’t spill a drop. After the last swallow, I slammed the empty bottle down on the table, my expression unreadable as I met Hayden’s gaze. “Is that sufficient?” I turned and walked away. Behind me, I heard Leo’s voice. “Hayden, you’re going to regret this.” “Regret what?” Hayden sneered. “Do you know who she is? She’s Jasmine.” The closing doors cut off the rest of his words. I walked briskly to the elevator, my stomach churning, but my steps were steady. Inside the ballroom, Hayden was still reeling from the shock when Gigi suddenly pointed at the floor. “Blood! There’s blood here!” On the polished floor, where I had just been standing, were several drops of crimson. Gigi shoved Hayden hard. “Go after her! She drank all that wine!” Hayden spun around and sprinted for the door, but Gigi called him back. “Wait!” She pointed at the floor again. “The blood… I think it dripped from the hem of her dress…” The three of them froze. “Is she…”

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1 The moment Daniel’s father was rushed back into the emergency room, Daniel fled to a secluded corner of the hospital, his eyes bloodshot, phone pressed to his ear. “Chloe, I’m falling apart,” his voice cracked. “Can you just… talk to me for a bit?” Hidden behind a door just down the hall, I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end. But I didn’t need to. In that instant, I knew it was over between me and Daniel. He was under an immense amount of pressure, after all. His father was in and out of the ICU, with doctors constantly handing us grim prognoses. His company was hemorrhaging investors, who weren’t just pulling their projects—they were taking the capital with them. The weight on his shoulders was crushing. And now, there was a girl who could soothe that pressure. A girl who could buy him a simple bubble tea and make him feel a flicker of peace. What chance did I have? I was the girlfriend whose three calls a day had become a burden. What right did I have to cling to him, to drag this out any longer? Daniel had once promised we’d get married in his thirty-second year. It was a silly, sentimental thing. His grandmother, a woman who read tarot cards like most people read the news, had sworn that if he didn’t have a major “joyful event” to ward off the bad luck in his thirty-second year, he’d face “a cage of steel”—her dramatic way of saying jail time. So I waited. I waited twelve long years for him to finally reach that fateful year, for him to be ready to marry me. But as soon as the year began, instead of wedding bells, disaster struck. First, his father had a massive stroke and was hospitalized. Then, one by one, his business partners started pulling out, gutting the company’s most promising projects. The pressure transformed Daniel. He was either chain-smoking on the balcony or collapsing into bed, the breath rattling in his chest, too exhausted to even speak. My own life was its own special kind of hell. I’d confidently told my mother at the New Year’s party that this was it, this was the year. Now, six months had passed in silence. Her calls became more frequent, her tone sharper with each one. “What is going on with you two? You swore this was the year! What happened?” “Do you have any idea how old you are? You’re thirty-two, Eve! You and Daniel have been together since college. Look around you! Your friends who started dating years after you are already married with kids in kindergarten. What are you waiting for?” Every conversation was a new wave of anxiety. At first, I tried to be patient. I’d explain, “Daniel’s company is in trouble, his dad is in the hospital. I can’t bring up marriage right now.” But her nagging wore me down until one day, I snapped. “If you want to get married so badly, you go do it! Why are you pressuring me?” The stress of that argument sent my mother to the hospital with heart palpitations. So there I was, juggling my job, looking after Daniel’s father, and now, my own mother was in a hospital bed. My head was a constant, buzzing hive of stress. And my mom, she wasn’t done. Lying in her bed, she’d weep and threaten me, the heart monitor beeping erratically beside her. “If you don’t marry Daniel this year, Eve, I’ll die. I swear it.” I couldn’t be the reason my mother died. I caved. I promised her I would talk to Daniel that very night. “Are you insane?” he roared when I brought it up. “Eve, my father is dying in a hospital bed, my entire life is falling apart, and you want to talk about getting married?” His words struck me like a physical blow, and the air left my lungs. My face went pale. It took me a moment to find my voice, my lips trembling. “Daniel, don’t you remember? Your grandmother… the prophecy. If you don’t get married this year, you’ll…” He stared at me for a second, a flicker of something in his eyes, before it was replaced by pure rage. “You actually believe that crap?” he spat. “It was just something I made up to get you to stop bringing up marriage every five minutes! You’re obsessed!” My heart didn’t just drop; it shattered. It plunged into an icy abyss. He didn’t even seem to notice me standing there, frozen in shock. He just turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. After that, a wall of ice went up between us. He wouldn’t answer my calls. He’d leave my texts on ‘read.’ Two weeks ago, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went to his office. It was like stepping into a different man’s world. His minimalist desk was now cluttered with tiny, cheerful green plants and a collection of colorful designer vinyl figures. And his usual black Americano had been replaced with a strawberry boba tea. Daniel hated strawberries. For twelve years, he’d hated them. A chill snaked its way into my soul. As I stood there, reeling, a muffled sound drifted from the conference room. A sob. I knew that sound. It was Daniel. I’d heard him cry like that in his sleep for months now. My heart hammering against my ribs, I crept towards the conference room. Through the glass wall, I saw him. His head was buried in the shoulder of a young woman, his back shaking with ragged sobs. His hands were wrapped around her waist, clutching her like a drowning man holding onto a piece of driftwood. “Chloe,” he choked out, “I’m so tired. I feel like I can’t go on.” The girl gently stroked his back. “Shhh, it’s okay,” she murmured. “Everything’s going to be okay. If the company fails, it fails. We’ll figure it out. And your dad will get better. You have to believe that.” Hearing her words, Daniel lifted his head and kissed her. A deep, desperate kiss. The world went cold. I was so stunned, so horrified, that the thought of storming in and confronting them didn’t even cross my mind. All I could do was stumble backward, my only instinct to flee. Later, I did some digging. Chloe Reed. An intern he’d hired a year ago. A former classmate from his high school. They had even had a brief, bittersweet romance back then, one that ended when he left for college. When I found out, I locked myself in my apartment for three days. But how do you just sever a twelve-year bond? I wasn’t just heartbroken; I was furious. I wasn’t ready to give up. So I started clinging to him, like a fool grabbing at straws. I called him constantly. I begged him to come home. I even humbled myself, apologizing for pressuring him about the wedding. He came home, sometimes. But the warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by a chilling indifference. The dinners I cooked for him would be reheated three or four times before he’d finally walk through the door. I’d text him in the morning—Did you eat breakfast? How are things at the office?—and he’d either ignore me or snap back. Can you just stop texting me? I’m swamped. I don’t have time for this. But I knew the truth. A well-placed designer handbag had bought me a spy inside his office. I had a real-time feed of his daily life. The man who had no time to read my texts had plenty of time to go downstairs for bubble tea with her. The man who was too stressed to talk to me had time to take her shopping and to the movies after work. The memories made my chest ache with a dull, throbbing pain. In the past, if I’d seen him like this—huddled in a stairwell, crying like a lost child—I would have rushed to him, wrapped my arms around him, and whispered, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here.” But now? Now, I just watched him for a moment, turned around, and walked away. I found the private nurse I’d hired to care for his father. I handed her a thick folder containing his insurance cards, medical records, medication lists—everything. “Please give these to Mr. Cross,” I said, my voice steady. “And from now on, you’ll need to get your salary from him.” The nurse stared at me, her mouth agape with confusion. I didn’t offer a single word of explanation. I just turned, walked to the escalator, and descended, leaving that part of my life behind me on the floor above. 2 I had barely stepped into the apartment I’d once shared with Daniel, ready to pack my things, when my phone rang. It was him. His voice was a low growl, laced with raw impatience. “Where the hell are you? Eve, have you lost your mind? My dad’s in the middle of a fucking crisis, and you just disappear?” He didn’t even wait for an answer. “Do you have any idea how important my meeting this afternoon is?” Hearing that familiar, angry tone, a tremor of pain shot through me, even though I’d been expecting it. I took a deep breath, forcing my own voice to remain calm, level. “Daniel, let’s break up.” There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end. Then, the explosion. “What the hell is wrong with you, Eve? How much more drama can you possibly create? My father is lying in a hospital bed, he could die any second, and you pick now to break up with me?” He was right. The old me would never have done this. For the past six months, no matter how much his stress-fueled anger was directed at me, no matter how cruel his words became, I never once mentioned leaving. I understood. People crack under pressure. Their personalities warp. I had even tried to carry some of his burden, to keep him from completely shattering. I was the one who found the best private nurses. I was the one who pulled strings to get appointments with specialists. I was the one who navigated the bureaucratic nightmare of hospital admissions and surgery schedules. Even when I found out about him and his little intern, I made excuses for him. He’s just under too much pressure. He made a mistake. Just last week, his father’s condition worsened dramatically. The doctor issued three critical warnings in a single day. I called Daniel, no answer. I texted him, no reply. I couldn’t let his father die. In a panic, I borrowed $30,000 from my parents and authorized the emergency brain surgery myself. I saved his father’s life. And for my troubles, I got a slap across the face. “Are you crazy, Eve?” he’d yelled, his handprint stinging my cheek. “He’s an old man! You let them perform brain surgery on him? Is it because he’s not your father that you can be so reckless with his life?” My cheek throbbed, a dull, sour ache, but I didn’t dare cry out. I just held my face and tried to explain, my voice trembling. “Daniel, listen to me. The doctor said he wouldn’t have made it through the night without the surgery. You told me… you told me you couldn’t lose your dad. I was just trying to save him.” My eyes filled with tears of fear and hurt. He didn’t care. He just shoved past me and rushed into the hospital room. Then, last night, I saw his text messages. While his father was fighting for his life in the ER, Daniel was on a “getaway to the countryside” with his intern, Chloe, to “de-stress.” And on his frantic drive to the hospital after I finally got through to him, he’d actually detoured to take her to a clinic because she was having period cramps. So, let me get this straight. His father is dying, and he gets to have a romantic escapade with his mistress, but I’m expected to stand vigil outside the ICU like a goddamn martyr until my feet go numb? I choked back the suffocating pain in my chest. “Daniel,” I said again, my voice eerily calm. “What does your father being sick have to do with me breaking up with you? Or do you just subconsciously believe that it’s my duty to stand by you through thick and thin?” I paused, letting the question hang in the air. “I gave you twelve years, Daniel. I think that’s enough, don’t you?” I didn’t wait for his answer. I hung up. What was the point? No matter what I said, he would just see it as me being unreasonable, creating more drama. There can be a million reasons not to love someone, but you only need one to love them. My reason was long gone. 3 I moved out that day, leaving the condo Daniel had bought and returning to my own small apartment. That evening, I texted my mom to tell her it was over with Daniel. I braced myself for the inevitable frantic phone call, the barrage of yelling and accusations. But it never came. She just replied calmly, asking if I wanted her to come stay with me for a few days. I said no, even managed to joke with her on the phone for a bit. But the second I hung up, the tears started to fall. A silent, steady stream. Twelve years. From college sweethearts to something more like family. You can’t just sever a connection like that with a single sentence and not feel the phantom limb. As I was drowning in my own misery, my phone buzzed with a notification from a group chat I’d joined—a support group for families of patients at the hospital. Someone had sent a picture with a caption: “Un-freaking-believable. This guy’s dad is dying in the ICU, and he’s in the men’s room getting it on with some girl.” The picture was a grainy, clandestine shot of two people kissing passionately in a hospital bathroom. It didn’t show their faces clearly, but I knew. I knew it was him. The left hand, sliding up the woman’s dress, had a small tattoo on the back of it—a stylized design of my initials. The ring on his finger was the matching couple’s ring I had given him for our ninth anniversary. The expensive leather shoes in the shot were the ones I’d bought him just two weeks ago. Even the brand of boxer briefs, visible where their clothes were bunched up, was the one I always bought for him. Was he that desperate? That shameless? The moment I break up with him, he drags his intern into a public restroom? Wearing the clothes I bought him, the ring I gave him, to be with another woman? A strange numbness spread through my chest. The picture was scandalous, and the group chat exploded with comments. I couldn’t bear to see any more. Tears streaming down my face, I left the group chat and was about to turn off my phone when an unknown number called. I answered. A soft, gentle voice cooed on the other end. “Hello, is this Ms. Eve Wallace? Hi, my name is Chloe. I’m Mr. Cross’s assistant. I was just helping Daniel organize his things at the apartment, and I noticed that his mother’s heirloom bracelet, the antique one, seems to be missing. I was just calling to ask… did you happen to steal it?” 4 She put a special emphasis on the word steal. Daniel’s mother’s bracelet. He’d pawned it last month to cover a company shortfall. I wasn’t sure if Chloe knew that, but I knew exactly why she was calling. It was a declaration of victory. I’m in his home now. I’m the woman of the house. Everything that was yours is now mine. I didn’t answer her. Instead, I calmly used my other phone to dial 911. Hearing me speak to the police dispatcher, Chloe’s sweet facade finally cracked. “Eve, what are you doing? Why are you calling the police?” I ignored her, finished explaining the situation to the operator, and then finally turned my attention back to her. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Well, Chloe, you accused me of stealing. Words are just words. You wouldn’t believe any explanation I gave you, so I thought it would be best to get the authorities involved.” I paused for effect. “I’ll meet you at the precinct near Daniel’s apartment in twenty minutes.” I hung up before she could respond. Then, I began to put on my makeup. Frankly, I was curious. I wanted to see this woman who had managed to steal Daniel’s heart—or what was left of it—up close. 5 When I arrived at the police station, Chloe was already there. She was wearing a slinky, red silk nightgown I recognized—one I’d left behind because I never wore it. Over it, she had on a designer jacket worth a few thousand dollars—also mine. She looked stunning, a perfect blend of sexy and sophisticated. I took a deep breath and walked toward her. The moment I was in front of her, she burst into tears. “Oh, Eve, I’m so, so sorry!” she cried, her voice catching. “I didn’t know Daniel had sold the bracelet to cover business expenses. It was all a huge misunderstanding. I’ve already explained everything to the officers.” My brow furrowed. Her apology was too quick, too easy. One of the officers chimed in, patting her arm consolingly. “It’s all cleared up now,” he said, giving me a stern look. “It was just a misunderstanding. No need to get so worked up. You’ve scared the poor girl.” Just then, the screech of tires echoed from the street. Before I could even turn around, Daniel’s furious voice cut through the air. “Eve! What are you doing now?” He rushed over, yanking Chloe behind him protectively. He glared at me, his eyes filled with a venom I’d never seen before. “Can’t you just leave us alone?” he seethed. “The second we break up, you drag Chloe to a police station? What is your game, Eve? What kind of revenge are you trying to get?” He shoved his phone in my face. On the screen was a screenshot of the chat logs between me and the employee I’d paid to spy on him. “Look at you! Is there any line you won’t cross? Threatening me to get married, hiring people to spy on me… you’re disgusting.” My gaze shifted from his phone to the girl cowering behind him. I saw the triumphant, defiant glint in her eyes. I understood. This was her plan all along: to make Daniel and me tear each other apart for good. I didn’t say a word. I simply stepped forward and slapped him. Hard. The sharp crack echoed in the night air. “Daniel,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “I’m the one who found out you were cheating. Shouldn’t you be the one who’s scared?” His face paled slightly. Seeing his reaction, a bitter, mocking smile touched my lips. “I was with you from college until now, Daniel. When you started your business with nothing, I supported you. When you were at your lowest, my salary paid our bills. And what did you do? You refused to marry me. For the last six months, I’ve been the one taking care of your father, running around like a madwoman trying to save him. And you? You were screwing your intern.” I took a step closer, my voice rising with every word. “You scream at me because you’re stressed, because your company is failing, and I tried to understand. I bent over backwards to understand. And all along, you were betraying me. Now you have the audacity to stand here and question me? Do you even have the right?” The last words were laced with all the pain and fury I’d been holding back. Did he have any idea what the last six months had been like? My hair falling out in clumps, crying myself to sleep every night, desperately trying to save a man who wasn’t even my own father. And for what? So he could find solace in the arms of another woman. My vision blurred with tears. Maybe it was the sight of my tears, but a flicker of something—humanity, perhaps—returned to Daniel’s eyes. He hesitantly raised his hand, as if to wipe a tear from my cheek. But before his fingers could touch my skin, Chloe shot forward from behind him, slamming her body into mine.

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Zoe and I were in the same car crash. But my boyfriend, the head of orthopedic surgery, shoved my hand away. “Lesley, stop being so dramatic! Zoe needs surgery, now!” And so, I was the one left to die. The day my skeleton was donated to Dr. Iain Shaw’s department, he locked himself in his office for a full day and night. After that, the most brilliant surgeon at Riverside General never held a scalpel again. 1 The lights in the hospital room swam before my eyes, a blurry, nauseating dance. Through the haze, I saw a figure in a white coat rush in. “Dr. Shaw,” a voice said, breathless. “We’ve got an opening in the OR. Who goes first?” I reached out, my fingers weakly pinching the corner of Iain’s coat. I tried to give it a tug, but he just glanced down at me, his brow furrowed. I couldn’t quite make out his expression. From the next bed, Zoe’s soft sobs started up again. “Iain… oh, Iain, am I going to be crippled? Will it leave a scar?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Iain pried my fingers off his coat. “Lesley, you just have a few scratches. A local anesthetic is all you’ll need. Zoe’s fracture is critical, can you please stop making a scene?” My head was spinning, a dizzying vortex of pain and confusion. I watched him turn all his attention to Zoe, his voice a gentle balm, without sparing me so much as a second glance. I tried to speak, but my lips felt heavy and useless. I’m not making a scene, Iain, I wanted to scream. I really can’t remember how Zoe got hurt. I never hurt her, why won’t you ever believe me? I can walk away, you know. I’m not that pathetic. …Iain, please, just look at me? But he was already motioning for the orderlies, helping them move Zoe’s gurney out of the room. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels echoed down the long, sterile corridor of the evening, each sound a nail driving into my ears. He never once looked back. 2 Beeeeeeep— As the heart monitor flatlined into a single, piercing tone, my soul untethered itself, drifting upward. I saw a nurse shout for the on-call doctor as she sprinted toward my room with the crash cart. A pang of guilt hit me. Sorry about that. I know the paperwork for a death report is a nightmare. Now you have to write another one because of me. Floating higher, I passed through the ceiling and into the operating room. Iain was just finishing his scrub, pulling on a pair of sterile gloves. After all our recent fighting, I finally had a moment to really look at the man I’d loved for seven years. Objectively, Iain Shaw was devastatingly handsome. It was the sharp, intense focus in his eyes as he made an incision during a university lab that had first captivated me, that had made me decide to pursue him. Who knew he came with a childhood sweetheart attached? I drifted behind him and poked at his back. “You know, I had plenty of guys after me, too. If you had just told me about her sooner, I wouldn’t have been so set on you.” He couldn’t hear me, of course. He turned, his gloved hands ready, and walked straight through my spectral form. The sensation sent a jolt through me. I almost shot back a sarcastic comment, but then my ghostly shoulders slumped. What was the point? He couldn’t hear me anyway. The heavy lead door swished open, and a circulating nurse entered, phone in hand. “Dr. Shaw, a call from downstairs. They’re in the middle of a code in your department. They’re asking if you want to come down.” Iain didn’t even pause as he tied his surgical gown. “Tell them to handle it. Can’t you see I’m scrubbed in?” I sighed. That was Iain for you. The surgery was his temple, and everything else was sacrilege. Still, I wished he’d make an exception today. After all, the person they were coding was me—his girlfriend. Then I glanced at Zoe’s pale face on the operating table, and my certainty wavered. Between a dead me and a living Zoe, it was anyone’s guess who mattered more to him. Zoe’s fracture was complex, and my resuscitation wasn’t going well. As Iain frowned, meticulously piecing together bone fragments, the lead door opened a second time. “Dr. Shaw, they’re on the line again. They’re requesting Dr. Peterson for an intubation on the code.” The OR was its own social hierarchy. A surgeon as skilled as Iain was always paired with the best, and Dr. Peterson was the top anesthesiologist in the hospital. As a disembodied soul, I could guess what that meant: my condition was critical, so they were calling in the big guns. But Iain refused again. “I don’t switch anesthesiologists mid-op.” Right. Of course. Zoe’s surgery was the most important thing in the world. More important than my life. I was starting to get angry. I floated in front of him and made a face. The third time the door opened, Zoe’s surgery was finally taking shape. “Dr. Shaw, they’ve been doing compressions for half an hour. They want to know if they should continue.” Iain slammed a surgical drill onto the instrument tray, his patience finally snapping. “Are you people clueless? Half an hour? Tell the family to make the call! If it were up to me, I’d stop right now!” I found myself nodding in grim agreement. A doctor couldn’t make that call; only next of kin could. From a purely medical standpoint, after thirty minutes of CPR, my chances were practically zero. Besides, who, other than your most beloved family, would exhaust every resource just for the slimmest hope of a miracle? 3 Zoe’s surgery finished in the dead of night. For some reason, I wasn’t following my own body. Instead, I found myself tethered to Iain, unable to move more than a few feet away from him. He seemed to have completely forgotten about me. He waited in the recovery room for two hours until Zoe was fully awake, then went with her back to her room. He personally lifted her onto the bed, fluffed her pillow, and waited for the nurse to hang her IV drip before he finally glanced toward my empty bed. “Where’s Lesley?” The nurse flinched, seemingly caught off guard by his calm demeanor. She chose her words carefully. “Her mother picked her up earlier this evening.” Iain just nodded, saying nothing more. A moment later, I saw him walk to the window and pull out his phone. The contact name on the screen read: “Wifey.” He hesitated, his long, elegant fingers hovering over the call button. Just as he was about to press it, Zoe’s voice came from behind him. She was sitting up in bed, her face pale, anxiously wringing her hands. “Iain,” she said, her voice thin and reedy, “maybe you should call Lesley… I’m sure she didn’t realize pushing me would hurt me this badly.” Iain froze. His gaze flickered to Zoe’s bandaged leg, a flash of anger in his eyes. Then, he navigated away from the call screen and put his phone away. He walked back to her bedside and gently stroked her hair, his voice once again a vessel of pure tenderness. “There’s no need. After what she did to you, she needs a few days to herself to think about what she’s done.” Excuse me? I wanted to laugh. If I could touch him, I would have kicked him right then and there. Wrong? What did I do wrong? I pushed her out of the way of a speeding motorcycle! I saved her life! Did he not see the gash on my head where I hit the pavement? The one that caused the fatal brain bleed? When I first woke up, the trauma made me forget. But now that I’m dead, I remember everything! But then, a wave of resignation washed over me. What good would it have done if I’d remembered then? He wouldn’t have believed me anyway. Iain stayed by Zoe’s bedside all night. The next morning, when he emerged from her room for rounds, the other staff members stared at him, exchanging uneasy glances. The resident he was closest with finally ventured a question. “Dr. Shaw… your girlfriend… aren’t you going to go see her?” Iain waved a dismissive hand, clearly annoyed at the mention of my name. “It doesn’t matter. It was nothing serious.” With the boss having spoken, no one else dared to say a word. But as they followed him on his rounds, I heard a young female intern mutter, “I never would’ve guessed. Dr. Shaw is completely heartless.” I floated beside her and smirked. Oh, he wasn’t heartless. Not at all. When the team arrived at Zoe’s room, Iain’s entire demeanor softened. His brow smoothed, and a gentle expression took over his features. “I’ll handle this patient’s dressing changes myself. A girl like her can’t have any scars.” I glanced back at the intern who had just criticized him. Her jaw was on the floor. See? Now you get it. When it came to Zoe, he was a completely different person. 4 My mother’s call came while Iain was peeling an apple for Zoe. Mom’s voice, crackling through the phone, sounded exhausted. It filled me with a dull ache. “Iain, aren’t you coming to see Lesley?” Iain set the knife down, his tone becoming much more respectful. “Auntie, Zoe’s leg is still broken, I can’t really leave her right now. You…” Suddenly, my mother’s voice became sharp, piercing. “She can’t be left alone? Then did you know that Lesley was pregnant? She was carrying your child!” Iain’s eyes widened. His hand tightened around the phone. Before he could speak, my mother’s voice broke into sobs. “What am I even saying this to you for? It doesn’t matter anymore… the person is gone… Iain, just stay with your precious Zoe! We’re done. Don’t ever contact us again.” The line went dead. I desperately wanted to dive into the phone, to tell my mom I was right here. I didn’t know how I’d left the hospital last night, but I knew she must be heartbroken. I tried to press the redial button on Iain’s phone, but my ghostly fingers passed through it again and again. A soul can’t cry. Mom, please don’t cry. I’m right here. Don’t fall apart. Iain was still frozen, clutching the phone. I wanted to shake him, to scream at him. Iain, are you an idiot? Call my mother back! Go see her! Is she okay? “What does she mean… gone?” He mumbled the words to himself, then, as if a switch had been flipped, he bolted from the room. He stormed into the doctors’ lounge and slammed his palm on the desk of Dr. Miller, the resident who had been on my resuscitation team. His voice trembled. “Miller, you were on duty last night. Did you treat Lesley’s injuries?” Dr. Miller looked up at Iain’s bloodshot eyes, stunned. “Dr. Shaw… you…” “I’m asking you, did she have a miscarriage?” Iain’s voice rose to a shout, startling the young doctor. “Dr. Shaw, my condolences… We didn’t even know she was pregnant until the very end…” Iain staggered back, all the strength seeming to drain from his body. He ripped off his white coat and turned to leave. I floated beside him, urging him on. Hurry up! Faster! Go check on my mom! The elevator arrived. I was ready to go in with him, but Iain just stood there, motionless. I followed his gaze. Zoe, somehow, had dragged her broken leg out of her room and was crawling on the floor toward him. It was over. We weren’t getting in that elevator. Sure enough, the doors closed and the elevator descended without him. Iain turned back, scooped Zoe into his arms, and carried her back to her bed. Zoe trembled in his embrace, her eyes glistening with tears. “Iain, did something happen to Lesley? I’m so sorry… I saw her buying abortion pills once… It’s all my fault… If my leg wasn’t broken, I would have told you sooner.” Zoe kept talking, but Iain had gone rigid. His eyes were red-rimmed as he sank back into the chair by her bed. He covered his face with his hands, and after a long moment, his voice came out, raw and hoarse.

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My counterfeit sister was allergic to lies. The moment she heard one, she’d sneeze, break out in a rash, and her eyes would water. The day I was brought back to my real family, she swelled up like a balloon, a mess of tears and snot. And just like that, my entire family branded me a malicious liar. Later, when my grandmother, paralyzed by a stroke, tumbled down the stairs, I barely had time to shake my head and deny it was me. But the next second, my “sister” had a severe allergic reaction and went into anaphylactic shock. My father was furious. My mother wept and cursed me. My brother slapped me across the face. “How could the Warren family have produced such a venomous, black-hearted monster like you?” I was humiliated, punished, and tormented. It wasn’t until after I died that I finally learned her secret. …

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In the fifth year of our marriage, my husband and I started trying for a baby. I had just propped a pillow under my hips, adjusting my position, when his phone rang. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled away and started getting dressed. “A friend invited me out for a round of golf. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” This was the 99th time our attempts had been interrupted. I looked at him and, to my own surprise, spoke. “Leo, let’s get a divorce.” The motion of strapping on his watch paused for a fraction of a second. He laughed. “You want to divorce me because I’m going to play golf?” I swiped open his phone and pointed to a chat message. “Can’t wait to get a hole-in-one with you tomorrow, big bro! ;)” Leo frowned. “Because of this?” I nodded calmly. “Because of this.” 1 “We’re just golf buddies, it’s slang. Why do you have to be so sensitive about everything?” he grumbled. “You bring up divorce every other week. When was the last time? Two weeks ago?” He stopped dressing and sat back down on the bed. “Fine. I won’t go. Happy now?” He sighed, his tone a mixture of exasperation and condescension, as if he were placating a petulant child. A humorless smile touched my lips. “I’m not joking,” I repeated. “Let’s get a divorce.” Leo’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “So I’m not allowed to have a hobby? I have to be attached to your hip 24/7? When did you become so unreasonable?” He stood up again. “If you don’t trust me, then come with me.” Without giving me a choice, he pulled me up, threw a random set of clothes at me, and drove us to the golf course. When we arrived, four or five people were already there, greeting Leo warmly. “Leo! We’ve been waiting for you. Hey, is this your wife?” “No wonder the papers are always talking about what a happy couple you are. Can’t even play a round of golf without her.” “I’m so jealous.” A young woman walked towards us, vibrant and full of life, every strand of her hair seeming to radiate energy. Her form-fitting sportswear hugged a curvaceous figure. In my drab, oversized coat, I felt completely out of place. “Your wife looks so sweet and gentle, Leo. You’re a lucky man.” Though I’d never seen her before, my gut told me she was the one who had sent the text. “Alright, let’s go! We’ve been waiting!” someone called out. Leo changed and joined them on the course, leaving me to stand on the sidelines like an awkward spectator. “Ah, so close to a hole-in-one!” “Too bad! Next time for sure.” “I’m determined to get a hole-in-one today!” “Nobody leaves until we get a hole-in-one!” The phrase ‘hole-in-one’ was tossed around constantly, as if to prove to me that it was nothing more than a common golfing term. During a break, Leo walked over, his voice laced with exasperation. “See? I told you it was just golf slang. Can you stop making a scene now?” Before I could answer, the young woman, Hailey, jogged over, her ponytail swinging. “Abby, why are you just sitting here? Come play with us!” “I don’t know how.” Hailey covered her mouth in an exaggerated show of surprise. “You don’t play golf? Oh, you have to learn! Leo is an amazing player. He’s the one who taught me everything I know.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Leo loves golf so much. It would be great if you learned to play with him.” “I don’t like it,” I said flatly. Leo’s current success was something we had built together. When he was starting out, he had no money. I was the one who worked myself to the bone to support his dream. The first time I was pregnant, I was delivering food part-time to make ends meet. It was pouring rain, and when I arrived, a few drops of water had gotten onto the customer’s sushi. He was furious. He threw the box in my face and demanded I get on my knees and eat it off the floor. I turned to leave, but he grabbed a nearby golf club and swung it, hitting me squarely in the stomach. I miscarried. I never told Leo what happened. So he could play golf without a care in the world. But I couldn’t. I would never touch a golf club as long as I lived. A few moments later, Hailey and Leo walked off together. As they played, he would occasionally offer her guidance. From where I sat, his tall frame seemed to envelop her completely. There was a subtle, almost imperceptible physical contact between them, a restrained intimacy that crackled with unspoken chemistry. Soon, a loud cheer erupted from the group. “Leo got a hole-in-one!” “You have to buy us all dinner!” “Leo, you’re incredible!” Leo grinned, holding his club aloft. He then tipped all the caddies on duty—a generous five thousand dollars each. Five thousand dollars. That was how much I used to make working three part-time jobs for two months straight. After they finished, they all clamored to go out and celebrate. As we got to the car, Hailey quickly slipped into the front passenger seat. I paused for a second, then opened the back door. As the car started moving, Hailey seemed to suddenly remember me. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Abby! I get carsick, so I just habitually sat in the front. You don’t mind, do you? We can pull over and switch.” Leo’s voice cut in before I could respond. “It’s fine. If you get carsick, just stay there.” I swallowed the words on the tip of my tongue and slowly closed my eyes. After a sudden brake, something rolled out from under the seat and hit my foot. I picked it up. It was a used tube of lipstick. 2 The shade was bright and bold. Not mine. It was, however, very similar to the color on Hailey’s lips. How many times had she been in this car without my knowledge? The thought spun in my mind, but before I could come to any conclusion, Hailey suddenly clutched her stomach, her face contorted in pain. Leo noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?” Hailey was too pale to speak. “It’s not your period this week. Did you eat something bad? I’ll take you to the hospital.” Without another word, he slammed on the brakes. “Abby, Hailey’s not feeling well. I’m taking her to the hospital. You can get out here and find your own way home.” He practically dragged me out of the car, giving me no chance to refuse. Before I could even open my mouth to protest, the car had sped off, leaving me in a cloud of dust. My hands and feet were numb with cold. I stood frozen to the spot. He had forgotten that I’d rushed out of the house without my phone, without my wallet. He had simply abandoned me here. And yet, he remembered Hailey’s menstrual cycle with such perfect clarity. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, but it felt like all the strength had been drained from my body. Under the scorching sun, I began the long walk home. The oppressive heat reminded me of my second miscarriage. I had been wearing a heavy mascot costume, handing out flyers, when a speeding scooter knocked me over. I screamed for help, but my voice was muffled by the costume. By the time I got to the hospital, my second child was gone. I took the five hundred dollars in compensation money and gave it to Leo. He bought a decent suit for a networking event and landed a hundred-thousand-dollar contract. That night, he held me, ecstatic, completely unaware of what had happened to our baby. Later, when I told him, his eyes were red, his voice trembling. “Abby, our baby… is gone.” Two hours later, I dragged my numb legs to our front door and punched in the code. The first thing I saw was Hailey lying on the living room sofa, with Leo kneeling in front of her. He was holding a bowl of porridge, patiently feeding it to her, spoonful by spoonful. So gentle. So patient. I had seen him like this a thousand times, but never from a third-person perspective. Leo turned and saw me. His hand froze mid-air. He put down the bowl and walked over to me. “What took you so long?” I was on the verge of collapse, barely able to speak. “Water…” Leo immediately brought me a glass of water. I tilted my head back and drank greedily. The cool liquid soothed my parched throat, but a second later, I felt my airway constrict. The glass fell from my hand, and I clutched my neck, staring at Leo. “What… did you put in it?” “Honey.” The word left his lips, and then his face paled in horror. After some quick treatment to alleviate the reaction, I could finally breathe again. Hailey rushed to apologize. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault! I didn’t like the taste of plain water, so Leo added some honey for me. I’m so sorry it made you have a reaction, it’s all my fault…” After all these years, Leo knew all my preferences, and he was always so careful about my allergies. Whenever we ate out, he would meticulously check every dish. But now, he had forgotten I was allergic to honey. I lowered my eyes, my heart as still and dead as a stagnant pond. Soon after, Hailey left. Leo saw her out and came back in. I spoke again. “Tomorrow, I’m sending you the divorce papers.” Leo’s eyes widened, and he refused without a second thought. “I don’t agree!” Then, perhaps remembering what had just happened, his tone softened. “I was wrong earlier. I was in a hurry and I forgot. I’ll buy you a gift later to make it up to you.” The next day, I received a package. It was a golf club. 3 My blood ran cold. I threw the club as hard as I could. The pain of my first miscarriage was still so vivid. The feel of the golf club hitting my stomach, the sharp, searing pain. And then, the slow trickle of red down my legs. I had lost my first child before I even knew I was pregnant. Tears streamed down my face, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Just then, a message popped up on my phone. It was from Hailey. “Abby, do you like the gift? Leo asked me to help him pick something out to cheer you up, and I thought of this club. It’s a dream for so many golfers.” “What happened yesterday was my fault. I hope you can accept this gift and forgive me, and forgive Leo too.” So, even the gift to appease me was chosen by Hailey. But why, of all things, a golf club? I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood, the memory of my lost child overwhelming me. The front door suddenly opened. It was Leo. And behind him was Hailey. Leo saw my tear-streaked face and frowned, rushing towards me. “What’s wrong?” But then, Hailey shrieked and fell to her knees, cradling the golf club, which had snapped in two. “How could this happen? This was my favorite club!” she wailed. “I got my first hole-in-one with this club! How could it be broken?” She cried pitifully, hugging the broken club to her chest. Then, she looked up at me, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Abby, d-did you not like the gift? If you didn’t like it, you could have just said so. Why did you have to destroy it?” I was speechless, a lump forming in my throat. Leo’s cold, hard gaze was fixed on me. “Abby, even if you don’t like it, you shouldn’t waste someone’s kind intentions.” “Apologize.” He didn’t ask me why I was crying. He didn’t ask why I had broken the club. He just demanded that I apologize. It was a gift for me, yet I had no right to do with it as I pleased. The irony was suffocating. “Why don’t you just give her another hole-in-one? I’m sure that would make her feel better.” The next second, a sharp slap landed across my face. My head snapped to the side, my ears ringing. Leo had never hit me before. This was the first time. And it was for another woman. Realizing what he had done, Leo’s expression froze for a moment before his face contorted with rage again. “Abby, you’re getting more and more out of line.” I lifted my chin. “How am I out of line? All I did was repeat her own words back to her. Is that so out of line?” Leo’s chest heaved. “You know exactly what kind of filthy mind you have.” He then turned and left, taking Hailey with him. I managed a weak, humorless smile and began to pack my things. I had just finished typing up the divorce agreement when a wave of nausea hit me. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up. A few seconds later, I froze. 4 I didn’t know what to feel when I saw the two pink lines. After a year of trying with no success, now that I was leaving, I was pregnant. But even so, it wouldn’t change my mind. I would consider it a gift from the heavens. With a child by my side, I wouldn’t be so lonely. As for the missing father, I would do my best to make up for his absence. I left the divorce agreement on the table and walked out with my suitcase. But as I reached the door, I ran into Leo, his face dark and stormy. He saw my suitcase and sneered. “Just committed a heinous crime and now you’re trying to run away?” I was stunned. “What?” He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the hospital. “Abby, I never thought you could be so vicious. I told you there was nothing between me and her, but you were so jealous you had to destroy her life! Will you only be happy when she’s dead?” I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I struggled against his grip. “What did I do? What are you talking about?” “Still playing dumb?” Leo’s voice was like ice, his eyes devoid of any warmth. “You hired someone to take a golf club… and shove it inside her, to give her a ‘hole-in-one.’ Abby, don’t you dare tell me you didn’t do it!”

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The hurricane warnings were screaming across every news channel, so I told my boyfriend, Ryan, to come over to my place to ride out the storm. It wasn’t long before a knock echoed on my door. I was just about to open it when text began to scroll across my vision, like a live-feed of comments only I could see. [Don’t open the door. It’s not just Ryan out there. He brought his entire family.] [If you let them in, you will die.]

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1 Sebastian and I were a merger waiting to happen—a dynastic agreement inked before we could walk. But he wanted out. And to force my hand, he’d orchestrated a cliché: his best friend was waiting in the wings to play the hero. After my family’s assets were frozen, Sebastian forced me into a high-stakes poker game with the flavor of the month, a starlet named Tessa. Tessa sat nestled in the crook of Sebastian’s arm, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. “If you lose, darling, you owe me three favors. Anything I ask.” I hesitated, my eyes flickering to the tablet on the table where the charity livestream chat was scrolling at hyperspeed. @DramaLlama: Sienna! Don’t do it! It’s a trap set by the ML. He wants the rival to humiliate you so his buddy can swoop in and ‘save’ you! @TruthTea: Yeah, and once you break the engagement, the buddy is gonna ghost you hard. @RomanceReader99: Then Sebastian goes after his ‘One That Got Away’ guilt-free. @DarkTimeline: And you lose the marriage protection. Your dad will lose it, and your mom gets sold down the river to pay the debts! Reading that, the corner of my lip quirked upward. I looked Tessa dead in the eye. “Deal.” Sebastian didn’t know two things. One: I was the “One That Got Away” he’d been pining for online for years. Two: when I eventually collapsed, sobbing, into his best friend Chase’s arms, Sebastian’s composure was going to shatter into a million jagged pieces. 2 When the bankruptcy hit, my father made it clear: if the Sebastian merger failed, my mother was the collateral. Sebastian once mentioned he liked “good girls.” So, for ten years, I played the part. I wore the pearls, I lowered my voice, I folded my hands in my lap. It didn’t matter. I could have set myself on fire and he wouldn’t have looked up from his phone. The only reason we were still engaged was his refusal to be the bad guy who broke a family pact. Then came Tessa. She hung off his arm like a designer accessory, laying out the terms of the bet. Three favors. I agreed without blinking. They didn’t know that my online alter ego, Vesper, was a legend in the underground gambling circuit. I never lost when it came to probability and cards. But as my hand hovered over the final discard, the livestream chat exploded with spoilers about Chase’s scripted rescue and the trap to induce a breakup. I froze. I looked at Sebastian, whose cool eyes held a flicker of tension, and at Chase, who looked like he was rehearsing lines in his head. I swapped the King of Hearts for a Three of Diamonds. “I fold,” I said, my voice steady. “I lose.” Tessa’s grin widened as the chat went nuclear. @CardShark: How did she lose? Is the actress actually good? @PlotTwist: No way. Tessa’s playing the ‘Vesper’ role to trick Sebastian. It’s tragic he doesn’t know Sienna is the real deal. @GalaxyBrain: Wait… did Sienna lose on purpose? Ignoring the digital noise, I fixed my gaze on Sebastian. For years, I’d been taking high-level freelance contracts under the alias Vesper to buy my mother’s freedom. I’d just closed the final deal. We were almost out. And all this time, I hadn’t realized that King of Spades—my online rival, the cold, calculating strategist I’d battled across servers—was Sebastian. The chat said he was in love with Vesper, and Tessa had convinced him she was her. I watched them. Sebastian’s hand rested lightly, possessively, on Tessa’s waist. “I won,” Tessa purred, leaning into him. “Three favors, right? You won’t let her back out, will you, Seb?” A rare, indulgent smile touched Sebastian’s lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t let Sienna welch on a bet.” “Great. First favor,” Tessa said, arching a perfectly sculpted brow at me. “I want Miss Sienna to join us for the polo match this weekend.” Before I could answer, Chase slid into the space beside me, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t worry, Si. If Seb is too busy with Tessa, I’ll look out for you.” I almost laughed. They were really committing to the bit. Fine, I thought. I’ll watch your little play. I forced my eyes to rim with red, turning slightly toward Chase. “Okay.” 3 The polo grounds in the Hamptons smelled of cut grass and old money. I played the role of the novice, gripping my mallet so hard my knuckles turned white. Tessa trotted past on a gleaming chestnut mare, a cloud of expensive oud and leather trailing behind her—Sebastian’s signature scent. “Oops, sorry,” she called out, pulling up. “I assumed a debutante like you knew how to ride. First time?” She smirked. “Need a lesson?” A ripple of laughter went through the spectator stands. “Tessa and Seb are the power couple we deserve,” someone whispered loud enough to hear. “Fire and Ice.” “Why is Sienna still clinging to him? It’s pathetic.” They all assumed that after my family’s fall, I’d been cut off from this world. They didn’t know I’d worked late shifts exercising ponies at these very stables and cleaning locker rooms to pay off interest rates. I could hit a ball through a needle’s eye at full gallop. Sebastian’s eyes were glued to Tessa. Chase stepped in front of me, blocking my view. “It’s okay,” he said, voice low and sturdy. “Just remember what I told you. I’ve got you.” I nodded, widening my eyes to look up at him. “I only have you, Chase.” The whistle blew. As I squeezed my horse’s flanks, I felt the stirrup give way. @InsiderInfo: Seb is ruthless. He let his crew sabotage the stirrup. There’s talc in her glove too. @SafetyFirst: Are they trying to kill her?! I felt the leather strap loosen. I looked upfield. Sebastian and Tessa were a synchronized unit, turning the match into a duet. I ignored the stirrup and kicked into a gallop. I thundered up beside Tessa. I shifted my weight. She glanced at me, a sneer forming. Just as I mimed losing my balance, looking like I was about to tumble, I locked my core, corrected my seat, and swung my mallet. Crack. The ball screamed through the air, grazing her horse’s shin guard. The mare spooked and reared. Tessa went down in a heap of white denim and indignity. If you want to play dirty, make sure you can stay in the saddle. Sebastian was there in a heartbeat, abandoning the play. I dismounted quickly, feigning panic. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I—” Sebastian didn’t even look at me. He shoved me aside with enough force that I stumbled back onto the turf. He scooped Tessa up, his face etched with a panic I’d never seen directed at me. “Get the medic!” he roared, carrying her off the field. My chest gave a painful, involuntary throb. Ten years. Even if he didn’t love me, we grew up together. And he pushed me into the dirt without a second thought. Chase was there instantly, helping me up. I faked a limp. Without asking, he swept me into a bridal carry. I had to hand it to him. Even if it was a setup, Chase was a hell of an actor. 4 In the infirmary, I cried with practiced elegance, making sure my best angle was facing Chase. He knelt, massaging my “injured” ankle. I watched him through wet lashes. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I’ve always known Sebastian and I were… different. I only stayed because of the families.” Chase looked suitably pained. “Seb’s just… cold. You know everyone else loves you. My mom talks about you constantly.” I gave him a brave, watery smile. He blushed. Later, at the dinner, I sat quietly while Chase fussed over my water glass. Sebastian was busy acting as a human shield for Tessa’s wine intake. Tessa, recovering miraculously fast, leaned forward. “I won’t hold the accident against you, Sienna. But since we’re here…” She slid a glass of deep crimson wine toward me. “Try this. Grand Cru Pinot Noir. It’s exquisite.” I flinched, twisting the fabric of my dress. Sebastian, from the head of the table, shot me a look of impatience. “I… I don’t really drink,” I stammered. Everyone knew Sienna, the Good Girl, was a teetotaler. Tessa pouted at Sebastian. He turned to me, his eyes devoid of warmth. “Consider it an apology. And your second favor to her.” I bit my lip, took the glass, and downed it in one go. It burned, but I kept my face blank. One glass. Two. Three. Sebastian didn’t intervene. Chase hovered, looking nervous. But the more I drank, the sharper my eyes became. Tessa’s smile began to falter. I hid a smirk behind the crystal rim. They didn’t know I’d spent years bartending in dive bars to make rent. I could drink a sailor under the table. When I reached for another, Tessa panicked. “That’s enough.” She stared at me, waiting for the sedative she’d spiked the decanter with to hit. I just smiled. Suddenly, a small designer dog—one of the guests’ purse pets—scuttled out from under the table and began enthusiastically humping Sebastian’s Italian leather shoe. Sebastian’s face went stiff. Tessa looked horrified. “Since Tessa said stop, I assume the second favor is done,” I said, standing up smoothly. “Only one left.” I turned to leave. @Sherlock: Did she switch the glasses? Is the dog drugged?! @CinemaSins: LMAO. Sienna is a magician. Sebastian looks like he wants to die. Sebastian stared at my retreating back, a frown creasing his forehead as if he sensed a glitch in the matrix. I swayed, letting myself fall naturally against Chase. I put a hand to my forehead. “I think… the wine is hitting me.” 5 Chase looked like a deer in headlights, trying to shepherd me toward the guest rooms, but Tessa’s voice stopped him cold. “Sienna,” she slurred, her cheeks flushed with victory and wine. She draped herself over Sebastian. “I’m calling in the third favor right now.” The table went silent. “The third favor,” she announced, “is that you let me have Sebastian.” You could hear a pin drop. Guests at nearby tables stopped chewing. Sebastian said nothing. He didn’t push her away. I stayed silent for a long beat, looking down at my phone. A text from my mother had just come through: Debt cleared. Divorce finalized. I’m free. The shackles were off. I took a breath, letting my shoulders drop. “Okay.” It’s over. Sebastian’s head snapped up. The relief he expected to feel was visibly absent, replaced by confusion. He needed to reassert control. “I’m sorry, Sienna,” he said, his voice loud enough for the room. “But tonight is full of eligible bachelors. Why don’t we play a game? I’ve assigned everyone a card. You draw. Whoever you pick, you date. I’ll make sure they treat you right.” @FeministRage: This is disgusting. He’s auctioning her off? @RomanceLogic: He thinks she’s boring. He wants a firecracker like ‘Vesper.’ He has no idea. I ignored him and checked my messages. A notification from my handler: New contract. Vesper, someone wants the dirt on the Sterling family empire. Interested? I looked at a gloating Tessa. I looked at an oblivious Sebastian. Yes, I typed back. Sebastian fanned the deck of cards. Twelve times I drew. Twelve times, without looking, I pulled the Jack of Clubs. Chase’s card. Chase’s jaw was on the floor. Sebastian stared at the cards, his brow furrowing as he calculated the statistical impossibility. Before he could do the math, I threw myself into Chase’s arms, letting a sob escape. “Chase… you’re my destiny. You won’t leave me, right?” Chase hugged me back, tight. And for the first time in ten years, Sebastian’s face went completely, utterly pale. 6 The day after the engagement was transferred to Chase, I sent my mother to Europe. Chase followed me. My father blew up my phone. The Chase family is garbage compared to the Sterlings! Get back here! I blocked him. He still thought he had leverage. I reactivated the Vesper account and forwarded the contract about the Sterling family corruption directly to Sebastian’s King of Spades handle. We had a history. He was the only person who could keep up with me. I used to think he was cool, until I realized he enjoyed the cruelty of giving targets false hope before crushing them. He replied instantly. [Thought you retired?] I tapped the screen. [Changed my mind. Too many big fish swimming in international waters. Also, do you want this Sterling job or not? You always steal my contracts, I’m gifting you this one.] He typed for a long time. @Observer: He’s panicking. He knows something’s up. Ten minutes later: [Why are you abroad?] I smirked. [Honeymooning with my new fiancé.] Chase had been keeping his distance from Sebastian, terrified his friend would realize he’d actually fallen for the girl he was supposed to trick. Sebastian switched to his personal number. Sienna, I heard about your family. We grew up together. Where are you? My mother wants to send a gift. He hadn’t texted me this much in a decade. Europe, I replied. With Chase. We’re very happy. He called. I let it ring. He texted again: Did you get married? I didn’t reply. I walked into the bedroom where Chase was passed out, snapped a photo of his sleeping face, filtered it to look soft and intimate, and posted it to my stories. Then I went out. The club in Ibiza was a sensory overload of bass and strobe lights. I moved to the rhythm, a circle of appreciative strangers forming around me. I felt a gaze. I turned. A phone camera was pointed at me. It was a mutual friend of Sebastian’s. I didn’t hide. I threw my head back, ran my hands through my hair, and dropped into a body roll—a signature move Vesper had once performed on a dare in a Macau casino. @DramaAlert: She’s off the leash! Sebastian is going to lose his mind when he sees that video. @FlightTracker: Pretty sure his private jet just filed a flight plan. I smiled. Finally. The iceberg was melting.

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