Category: English

Seven years of love, and I personally pushed Julian Vance to the absolute peak of Hollywood. On the day he bid fifty million dollars for a legendary, flawless pink diamond at a charity auction, the entire internet was waiting for him to propose to me. Even I thought this would be the perfect fairytale ending to our seven-year romance. But under the blinding spotlights, he walked right past me. He placed the pink diamond necklace around the neck of Chloe White—a helpless, naive rookie who had just debuted. “This necklace is too heavy for you to wear, Selena. You don’t need it. Chloe needs it more.” I wanted to fight back, but I soon realized he had already secretly transferred my movie contracts, my connections, and even my life’s work to her. It wasn’t until a raging fire broke out on the set of a survival reality show that the truth fully hit me. I was left struggling in the smoke, screaming for help, while Julian carried Chloe—who had nothing but a tiny scratch on her knee—out of the flames without once looking back. At that moment, my heart died. He forgot one thing. Everything he owned was given to him by me. I could build him up to the highest peak, and I could drag him down to the deepest hell.

The Metropolitan Charity Gala was a glittering sea of luxury. The massive crystal chandeliers cast a mesmerizing glow over the room. The wealthiest elites, tech billionaires, and A-list celebrities of New York were all gathered here. I was wearing an haute couture, star-embellished gown, sitting in the center of the very front row. Sitting right next to me was Julian Vance—the newly crowned Oscar-winning actor, the man of the hour, and my boyfriend of seven years. “Next up is our final masterpiece of the night—the legendary Pink Hope Diamond! We will start the bidding at ten million dollars!” The auctioneer’s voice echoed through the grand hall. A month ago, rumors had already flooded Snapchat and Instagram. Everyone said Julian was going to buy this diamond to propose to me on this live-streamed night. “Twenty million!” “Thirty million!” “Forty million!” The bids kept rising, pushing the atmosphere to a fever pitch. Julian hadn’t raised his paddle yet. He just leaned back in his seat, looking effortless and handsome, gently stroking my knuckles with his thumb. His hand was warm. It was a touch that always made me feel safe. When the price stopped at forty-five million, the room fell quiet. Finally, Julian slowly raised his paddle. His voice was deep and commanding: “Fifty million.” The crowd gasped. Countless cameras instantly spun toward us. Flashbulbs went off like wild lightning, making the room as bright as day. The live chat on the streaming platforms was exploding. The screen was covered in comments like: “OMG! Propose! Propose!” “They are literal goals!” The auctioneer’s voice trembled with excitement. “Fifty million! Mr. Julian Vance bids fifty million! Any higher bids? Going once… twice… sold!” The moment the gavel hit, the room erupted into thunderous applause. I turned to look at Julian, my heart beating so fast it felt like it would burst out of my chest. Seven years. From the days when he had nothing, to now, standing at the absolute peak of the entertainment industry. I had shared cold, cheap takeout with him in leaky basements. I had drunk myself to stomach bleeding at corporate dinners just to secure auditions for him. Now, was he finally going to keep his promise to marry me? Julian stood up. Under the watchful eyes of the world, he took the velvet box containing the pink diamond from the model. He turned around, his deep eyes looking in my direction. My breath caught. My eyes grew hot, and I even began to raise my hand, ready for him to slide a ring on it. But Julian walked right past me. A cold draft swept by as his suit jacket brushed against my arm, taking all the warmth from my body with it. I froze. My mind went completely blank. To the absolute shock of the audience, Julian walked to a quiet corner in the second row. Sitting there was a young, rookie actress wearing a simple white lace dress, looking like a frightened little deer. Chloe White. Julian stopped in front of her and opened the velvet box. The pink diamond sparkled brilliantly under the lights. It hurt my eyes to even look at it. “For you, Chloe.” Julian’s voice wasn’t loud, but through the microphone he was wearing, it echoed clearly through the entire hall. The silence in the room was deafening. Even the camera flashes stopped for a second. Chloe covered her mouth, her eyes instantly turning red as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Julian… this is too expensive. I can’t take this…” She shook her head, looking incredibly fragile and adorable. But Julian smiled warmly. It was a gentle, adoring smile he had never once shown me. With his own hands, he put the fifty-million-dollar necklace around Chloe’s slender neck. “Take it. You just started your career. You need something to give you confidence. Think of this necklace as my encouragement to a promising talent.” He said it so grandly, so righteously. Then, he turned his head and looked at me, still frozen in my seat. There was no guilt in his eyes. Instead, there was only a cold, condescending look of charity. “Selena, you’re already an Oscar winner. You have everything. This necklace is too heavy for you; you don’t need it. Chloe needs it more to light up her path ahead. You’re always so generous, I’m sure you don’t mind, right?” I looked at his familiar face, suddenly feeling like he was a complete stranger. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, crushed into tiny pieces. I could barely breathe. “I don’t mind?” He took the pink diamond I had waited years for, on the night everyone expected him to propose, and gave it to a rookie who had done nothing but copy me and talk trash about me behind my back. And he had the nerve to ask if I minded? I bit my lower lip so hard that I tasted iron. But I didn’t scream. I didn’t run away crying. I am Selena Shaw. I never let anyone see me defeated. I slowly stood up, smoothed down the wrinkles of my gown, and kept my spine perfectly straight. Under the strange glances of the crowd, I walked right up to Julian. “Julian,” I said. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “Since you love playing the generous hero so much, I hope the two of you stay locked together forever.” Without waiting for his face to turn pale, and ignoring Chloe’s fake gasp of shock, I turned around. Stepping in my five-inch heels, I walked out of the gala, head held high. The moment I reached my private dressing room backstage, all the strength was drained from my body. I collapsed onto the sofa, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Julian’s spare jacket was still draped over the back of the couch. I took a deep breath, wanting to throw his trash jacket into the bin. But as I grabbed it, a neatly folded document slipped out of the inner pocket. There was no title on the front, only a stamp: “Project: Eclipse” As if possessed, I opened it. With just one look, the blood in my veins completely froze. “Step 1: Gradually strip Selena Shaw of her major brand endorsements. Under the excuse of “rebranding,” quietly transfer these contracts to Chloe White.” “Step 2: Use Selena’s social media traffic and industry connections to build hype for Chloe’s new movie. If necessary, leak negative rumors about Selena to make Chloe look pure and innocent.” “Step 3: On the day Chloe wins Best Actress, officially announce the breakup with Selena, securing Chloe’s place as the new queen of Hollywood.” At the bottom of the page was Julian’s signature. The date was from six months ago. Six months ago—right when Chloe first signed with his agency. I stared at the document, and a dark, hysterical laugh escaped my lips. Tears fell from my eyes, blurring the signature of the man I had loved for seven years. He didn’t just stop loving me. He had been planning this. He was systematically draining my life, my career, and my influence to build up his new girl. He wanted to destroy me to make her a star. Julian Vance, you are a monster.

Late at night, a heavy storm raged outside. The wind violently slapped sheets of rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the villa, making an eerie, pounding sound. I sat in the pitch-black living room, refusing to turn on the lights. Next to my feet were two packed suitcases. At 2:00 AM, the electronic lock on the front door clicked open. Julian walked in, smelling of rain and expensive cologne. He casually loosened his tie and flicked on the living room lights. The sudden brightness made me squint. He saw me sitting on the couch, and then his eyes landed on the suitcases. His movements paused, and his brow instantly furrowed. His voice was filled with irritation. “Selena, what kind of drama are you pulling now?” “I already explained the auction to you. Chloe is just a rookie. What’s wrong with me helping her out? You’re the veteran here. Did you really have to embarrass me in front of everyone tonight?” As he spoke, he poured himself a glass of whiskey at the bar. He sounded so righteous, as if I were the one who had committed a crime. I looked at him—this man I once thought I would grow old with. “Explain?” I let out a cold laugh and threw the “Project: Eclipse” documents directly at his face. The sharp edge of the paper sliced across his cheek, leaving a thin red line. The sheets scattered all over the floor. Julian looked down, and when he realized what the papers were, his pupils shrunk. He snapped his head up, his mask of calm sophistication finally cracking. “You went through my things?” he growled. “If I hadn’t, how would I have known that my boyfriend of seven years was planning to ruin my life for a girl he met six months ago?” I stood up, walking toward him step by step. “Julian, did you think I was an idiot? Did you think I would let you ruin me and thank you for it?” Julian’s throat moved as he swallowed hard, a flash of panic in his eyes. But he quickly forced himself to look calm, even reaching out to grab my hand. “Selena, let me explain. This plan… it’s just a standard business strategy from the agency. You’re already at the top. You don’t need these resources anymore. But Chloe is different. She’s fragile. She needs protection.” “Fragile?” I slapped his hand away, my eyes as cold as ice. “She’s fragile, so you stole my global luxury cosmetics contract and gave it to her?” “She’s fragile, so you paid tabloids to spread rumors that I was a diva on set, just to make her look sweet and hardworking?” “Julian, you’re not protecting her. You’re trying to destroy me!” Julian’s face went completely dark. His controlling ego was triggered. “Selena, don’t be ungrateful! Everything you have right now—which part of it didn’t come from me? Without me, do you think you’d be where you are today?” He pointed a finger at me, his words cutting like knives. I looked at him, feeling a deep, hollow sadness. “Julian, have you forgotten? Years ago, you were the one kneeling in the snow outside a director’s office, begging for a five-minute audition. I was the one who used my own salary to buy you a supporting role!” “When you were framed in that media scandal and almost canceled, I was the one who used every single connection I had, begging people face-to-face to save your career!” “I made you who you are, and now you have the nerve to say you gave me everything?” I grabbed the whiskey glass from the bar and smashed it onto the floor. With a loud shatter, glass flew everywhere, and the amber liquid spilled across the floor—just like our broken seven years. Julian was stunned by my anger and took a step back. “You’re crazy, Selena. You’re completely out of your mind.” He took a deep breath, returning to his cold, arrogant tone. “Fine. Since you’ve seen it, I have nothing to hide. Let’s take some space. You need to calm down. As for the contracts, I’ll compensate you.” “Compensate?” I grabbed the handle of my suitcase, my back straight, looking like a queen going to war. “Julian, keep your disgusting charity to yourself. As of tonight, we are done.” “You better pray your little rookie can stay hidden under your wing forever. Because if she flies out, I will show both of you what happens when you cross me.” Dragging my suitcases, I walked straight out into the pouring rain. Behind me, Julian’s furious roar echoed through the storm: “Selena! If you walk out that door, don’t ever think about coming back! Let’s see how long you can last in this town without me!” I didn’t look back. The freezing rain drenched my face, but it couldn’t put out the fire of revenge burning in my chest. “How long can I last?” “Julian, I will outlast both of you.” “I will stand at the absolute top and watch you slide into the mud.”

The morning after I left Julian, the retaliation came exactly as expected. My agent, Harper, walked into my apartment with red eyes and threw a stack of termination papers on the table. “Selena, Julian is going crazy. He used all his industry backing. Overnight, he got your remaining five brand deals canceled. Even the massive sci-fi movie you were supposed to star in has recast you with Chloe.” I calmly flipped through the contracts. The cancellation fees were in the millions. Julian was trying to completely blacklist me, forcing me to crawl back to him. “That’s not all,” Harper’s voice shook. “The internet is flooded with fake news about you. They’re saying you’re jealous of rookies, that you threw a tantrum at the gala, and they’re even hinting that you have an old billionaire sugar daddy…” I opened Snapchat and Twitter. Eight out of the top ten trending topics were about me. “SelenaShawGalaTantrum” “CancelSelenaShaw” “PoorChloe” At 3:00 AM, Chloe had posted a selfie with red, teary eyes: “I will always respect my seniors’ advice. I will work harder and not let anyone down.” Under her post, Julian’s fanboys and paid bots were leaving nasty comments: “Selena is just a bitter, aging actress who’s jealous of Chloe’s beauty!” “Bullying rookies? Cancel her forever!” “Julian finally saw her true colors. Good riddance!” I looked at the toxic comments, a cold smile appearing on my face. This was Julian’s play. Destroy my career, then ruin my reputation. “Harper, how much money do we have left in the business account?” I asked. Harper paused. “After paying off the fees, we won’t even be able to pay next month’s rent for the studio. Selena… maybe you should just talk to Julian? You guys were together for seven years…” “Never,” I cut her off. “I would rather starve than beg that piece of trash for mercy.” Just then, Harper’s phone rang. She picked it up, her face changing expressions rapidly. After she hung up, she looked at me, hesitating. “What is it?” “It’s… the production team of “Wilderness Survival”,” Harper bit her lip. “They’re offering to pay triple your usual rate to guest-star in the premiere episode. But…” “But what?” “But Chloe is a permanent cast member on that show. And you know how dangerous that show is. It’s unscripted, real-deal wilderness survival.” I understood instantly. This wasn’t a sudden lucky break. This was a trap set up by Julian. He knew I was broke. He was using the massive paycheck as bait to get me onto a show where I would be forced to make Chloe look good, get humiliated, and become the laughingstock of the internet. “We should decline. It’s too dangerous,” Harper said, worried. “No,” I raised my head, a dangerous spark in my eyes. “Accept it. Why wouldn’t we?” Since they wanted to play, I was going to play with them until the very end. I wanted to hit them the hardest when they thought they were winning.

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Married for seven years, Julian Sterling and I tried every single way to get pregnant, but nothing worked. Looking at my body, bloated from all the hormone injections and medications, Julian’s eyes would turn red. He’d hug me and say, “Claire, it’s all my fault. My sperm count is practically zero. I can never make you a mother in this lifetime. But I swear, I will love you with my entire life to make up for it.” I believed him. For his sake, I gave up on having children. I even locked up the beachfront Malibu mansion I had fully decorated for a future baby, just to cut off any painful memories. Until today, when I received a call from the prestigious Royal Swan Ballet Academy. “Mrs. Jian, your daughter Lily just pushed her dance partner off the three-foot-high stage! The other child has a broken leg. Please come with Mr. Sterling immediately!” My brain went completely numb. I had never been pregnant. Where the hell did a daughter come from? I rushed to the academy, only to see my supposedly sterile husband holding a beautiful little girl tightly in his arms, shielding her. And standing right next to them was his unforgettable first love—Evelyn Ward. On the incident report, the home address listed was none other than my private Malibu mansion. It turned out that my compromise, my mansion, and my money were nothing but a cozy nest he had built for another woman! Well. I’m going to see how deeply in love you two really are once my money is completely out of the picture.

The lights at the charity gala were blinding. On stage, the auctioneer was holding up a crystal angel statue, his voice booming through the microphone: “Six million dollars! Offered by Mrs. Claire Jian! Do I hear any higher bids?” I held up my paddle, my expression calm. Julian had been staring at this angel statue in the catalog for days. He told me his mother had been suffering from terrible migraines lately, and he wanted to win the auction to give it to her as a peace offering to soothe her mind. In our seven years of marriage, Julian had treated me incredibly well. His only flaw was his diagnosed male infertility. To make up for this regret, his love for me was almost pathologically obsessive. And because I loved him, I went out of my way to be the perfect daughter-in-law. I didn’t even blink when paying the hundreds of thousands of dollars for his mother Beatrice’s annual “wellness spa retreats.” “Buzz!” The moment the gavel fell, my phone vibrated violently inside my clutch. It was an unknown number. I lifted my gown and walked out to the terrace of the banquet hall to answer it. “Hello, is this Claire Jian?” a sharp, anxious female voice demanded over the line. “This is the Royal Swan Ballet Academy! Your daughter, Lily Sterling, pushed the lead dancer off the stage during rehearsal! The other girl has a broken leg, and her parents have already called the cops. You and Julian Sterling need to get here right now!” The early autumn night wind blew over me, but I felt like I had been plunged straight into an ice bath. “You have the wrong number,” I said, my fingers gripping the phone so hard they turned white. “I don’t have a daughter.” “That’s impossible!” The woman immediately read off a list of information. “Lily Sterling, seven years old. Father: Julian Sterling. Mother: Evelyn Ward. The emergency contact listed under your name, Claire Jian, with this exact phone number! Mrs. Jian, your kid caused a massive accident. Playing dumb won’t get you out of this!” Julian Sterling. Evelyn Ward. These two names were like poison-tipped nails driven violently into my eardrums. Evelyn was Julian’s college sweetheart. Seven years ago, when Julian proposed to me, he deleted all her contact info right in front of me and swore they would never see each other again. But now, not only were they seeing each other, they had a seven-year-old daughter? “Mrs. Jian? Are you still there?!” “Send me the address.” I hung up. The cold wind against my back made me shiver, but my mind was suddenly incredibly clear. Without even picking up the angel statue I had just won, I stepped into my high heels and walked straight into the dark night.

The Royal Swan Ballet Academy was located in the most expensive district downtown. When I pushed open the heavy doors of the rehearsal hall, the room was already in absolute chaos. “You need to give us an explanation today! My daughter is supposed to audition for top international companies, and now her leg is broken! Can you even afford to compensate for that?!” A woman dripping in diamonds was pointing her finger and screaming at a man. The man, who was bowing his head and repeatedly apologizing, was Julian. The very same Julian who, before leaving the house, had kissed my forehead and told me he had to work late at the office. And hiding behind him was a little girl dressed in a custom white swan tutu. She was clutching the hem of Julian’s designer suit jacket, sobbing uncontrollably. “Daddy, I didn’t mean to… I’m scared…” “Don’t be scared, Lily. Daddy’s here. Daddy will protect you.” Julian knelt down, his heart clearly breaking for her. He pulled her into his arms, reached into his pocket, pulled out a strawberry gummy, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. Standing at the doorway, my stomach turned. Julian had severe OCD and absolutely hated sweets. He would frown even if I ate a single piece of candy near him. Yet, in the pocket of his hundred-thousand-dollar custom suit, he kept strawberry gummies just to comfort this little girl. “Oh, my poor baby! Who dares to bully my sweet granddaughter!” A familiar figure suddenly rushed in from the hallway. My mother-in-law, Beatrice, who was supposed to be resting at a private high-end wellness clinic because she “couldn’t handle the outside draft,” was running like a track star. She was holding a pink thermos and immediately threw her arms around Lily, kissing her face. “Mom.” I walked forward, my heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. My voice was like ice. The room fell into a dead silence. Beatrice froze. Julian snapped his head up. The moment his eyes met mine, every drop of color drained from his face, and his pupils shook with sheer terror. “Cl… Claire? What are you doing here?” He instinctively let go of the little girl and tried to stand up to walk toward me, but a fragile-looking woman next to him quickly grabbed his arm. She was wearing a simple, elegant white dress, her eyes red and tearful. It was Evelyn Ward. “Claire…” Evelyn looked at me timidly, tears streaming down her face. “It’s all my fault. Please don’t blame Julian. The child is innocent…” I ignored her completely and stared straight into Julian’s eyes. “Julian, weren’t you working late at the office?” I took a step closer, backing him down. “Aren’t you sterile? Didn’t you say I was the only woman you’d ever have in this life?” Panic took over Julian. He violently shook off Evelyn’s hand and rushed over, trying to grab my shoulders. “Claire, let me explain! It’s not what you think! Lily is Evelyn’s child with another man. That man ran out on them, and Evelyn was struggling so hard on her own. I was just… just helping out an old classmate. I’m only her father on paper!” “On paper?” I let out a cold laugh and turned my gaze to the family showcase board on the rehearsal hall wall. Right in the center hung a massive family portrait. Julian was in casual wear, holding a beaming Lily, while Evelyn leaned her head happily on his shoulder. Underneath the photo, the home address was clearly printed: “Malibu Mansion, Rose Garden No. 1.” That mansion was my pre-marital property. It was the only inheritance my late parents had left me!

“Julian, you’re not just her dad on paper. You actually used my private mansion to register her school records?” My voice wasn’t loud, but every word cut like a knife. Julian’s face was whiter than paper. He shook his head frantically. “Claire, don’t misunderstand! That mansion has been sitting empty anyway. To get Lily into this academy, we had to show proof of a multi-million-dollar property. I only borrowed the address! They have never actually lived there, I swear!” “Yes, exactly!” Beatrice chimed in, quickly finding her voice. “Claire, don’t be so petty. You can’t even get pregnant anyway. T he Sterling family needs an heir! Even if Lily isn’t Julian’s biological child, she calls me Grandma. What’s wrong with me loving her? What’s wrong with using an empty house address?” I looked at this mother and son, feeling a wave of sheer absurdity. “I” couldn’t get pregnant? Years ago, during our fertility checks, Julian was the one whose medical report showed zero active sperm. He had literally knelt in the pouring rain, slapping his own face, begging me not to leave him. To save his pride, I had told everyone that my body was too weak to carry a child. And now, they were throwing that lie back in my face as if it were my fault. “Are you Claire Jian?” the mother of the injured girl sneered, looking at us. “I don’t care about your family drama. But today, if I don’t get three million dollars in compensation, this isn’t over! Since that mansion is yours, you are paying for this!” The school administrator also stepped up, handing me an incident liability form. “Mrs. Jian, since you are listed as the primary emergency contact and the owner of the registered property, please sign here.” I looked down at the paper. “Mother’s Name: Claire Jian.” “Contact Number: My private cell number.” “Home Address: Rose Garden No. 1.” They hadn’t just stolen my house; they had stolen my identity. Evelyn had been walking around using my name, enjoying the social status of being Mrs. Sterling! I pulled out my phone and took high-definition photos of the liability form, the family portrait on the wall, and the three guilty faces in front of me. “Claire, what the hell are you doing?!” Julian lunged to grab my phone. I stepped back, dodging his hands. My eyes were dead. “Julian, I’m not signing this, and I’m not paying a single penny.” I looked around the room, making sure my voice was clear enough for everyone to hear. “I, Claire Jian, am declaring right now. I do not have any children. This girl, Lily, has absolutely nothing to do with me. As for the Rose Garden No. 1 mansion, I have never authorized anyone to use it. If you dare forge my signature on any documents, I will see you in federal court.” Without giving Julian another glance, I turned on my heels and walked out into the night. The cold wind hit me again. I kept my back straight, but my tears finally broke free, streaming down my face. Seven years of marriage. Seven years of devotion. It was all a meticulously planned scam.

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I hid my identity as the sole heiress to the Kingswell Group—one of the most powerful Wall Street empires—and spent five years living in a cramped apartment with Carter Miller, helping him build his tech startup from scratch. Finally, our company, Atlas Tech, was about to go public on Nasdaq. But at the IPO celebration party, he went down on one knee and proposed to Tiffany Vance, the daughter of a wealthy real estate developer. After the proposal, he dragged me into a quiet corner and handed me a non-disclosure agreement. “Tiffany is bringing a hundred million dollars in Series C funding to Atlas Tech,” Carter said, his eyes cold and transactional. “What do you have to offer, Stella? You’re just an orphan. Sign this. I’ll buy you a luxury condo in downtown Manhattan and give you a hundred thousand dollars a month. Just stay in the shadows and be my good girl.” I looked at his arrogant, smug face and burst out laughing. “Carter, did you forget? I wrote every single line of the core AI algorithm that made this company worth billions.” He thought I was just a nobody with no background. He had no idea that with one single phone call, the tech empire he was so proud of would crumble into dust.

On the stage, Carter raised his champagne glass. The spotlight hit him perfectly, making him look like the king of the world. “Tonight is not just the fifth-anniversary celebration of Atlas Tech,” Carter announced into the microphone, his voice dripping with confidence. “It is also the most important day of my life.” He looked down at the VIP section with deep, calculated affection. “Tiffany, will you marry me?” The ballroom erupted into deafening applause. Wearing a custom Dior gown, Tiffany walked up to the stage like a proud princess, lifting her skirt. Carter dropped to one knee, pulled out a massive Harry Winston diamond ring, and slipped it onto her finger. I stood in the dark corner of the hall, holding a glass of warm water I had poured for him because his stomach had been acting up earlier. A sharp, stabbing pain hit my stomach. Five years ago, Carter was just a broke college kid who couldn’t even pay his rent. I hid my identity as the Kingswell Group heiress and squeezed into a damp, freezing basement with him. We had no heating in the winter. My fingers got frostbitten, but I still kept typing on my keyboard to write the very first code for Atlas Tech. Back then, he held my hands and said, “Stella, when the company goes public, I will give you the grandest wedding in New York.” Now, the company was going public. But the bride wasn’t me. At the back exit of the ballroom, Carter blocked me in the hallway. He handed me a folder. “Stella, you’re a smart girl. You should understand my situation,” he said smoothly. “The Vance family can bring a hundred million dollars to Atlas Tech. That’s our ticket to securing our Nasdaq listing.” “You’re just an orphan who had to work three part-time jobs just to pay for college. You can’t help me scale this company.” I looked at the “Voluntary Settlement and Non-Disclosure Agreement” in my hands and laughed from sheer anger. “So, you’re throwing me away like trash?” Carter frowned, clearly annoyed by my attitude. “Don’t put it so harshly. The agreement states that the apartment in Tribeca is yours, and I’ll wire a hundred thousand dollars to your bank account every month.” “As long as you play nice and don’t make a scene in front of Tiffany, nothing will change between us. Except for the marriage license.” I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. “SMACK!” “Carter, you disgust me.” Carter’s head snapped to the side. His expression instantly darkened. “Stella! Don’t push your luck!” he hissed, grabbing my wrist. “Without me, you’d still be working retail in some sketchy neighborhood! A hundred thousand a month? You couldn’t make that money even if you sold your soul!” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Did you forget, Carter? The core AI algorithm of Atlas Tech was written by me, and me alone.” I reached into my collar and pulled out a cheap plastic hair clip hanging from a string around my neck. That was a five-dollar gift he bought me during our first year of starting the company. “You told me this clip was our promise. You said you’d replace it with a real crown one day.” Carter let out a cruel laugh. He snatched the clip from my neck, threw it onto the marble floor, and crushed it under his shiny leather shoe. “Cheap trash. It looks pathetic.” “Wake up and face reality, Stella. Your code is valuable, but Tiffany’s hundred million dollars can buy me into high society.” “Tomorrow, hand over the master access codes of the core algorithm to the tech department. Otherwise, you won’t get a single penny.” I stared at him coldly. “And if I refuse?” Carter snapped his fingers. Four massive, burly security guards stepped out from the shadows of the hallway. “Take Miss Kingswell to the basement archive room so she can cool down. Nobody opens that door without my permission.”

“Carter! This is kidnapping! You won’t get away with this!” I shouted. But the guards didn’t give me a chance to fight back. They grabbed my arms and dragged me down to the basement. “I’m doing this for your own good, Stella. Once the opening bell rings next week, I’ll let you out,” Carter said, adjusting his Tom Ford tie as he turned back toward the bright, glamorous ballroom. “When you’re ready to talk, write down the password.” The heavy steel door of the basement archive room slammed shut. “CLANG!” Total silence. There were no windows, no cell service, only a dim motion-sensor light overhead. The AC was blasting, making the room feel like an icebox. I was thrown onto the cold concrete floor. The pain in my stomach suddenly intensified, crawling down to my lower abdomen. A sharp, throbbing cramp made me gasp. I curled up in the corner, clutching my stomach as cold sweat soaked my back. With trembling hands, I reached into my pocket and touched the folded ultrasound report. I had just gotten it from the hospital this afternoon. I was six weeks pregnant. I had planned to tell him the good news at the celebration party tonight. What a pathetic joke. “Baby… you chose the worst time to come,” I whispered, tears finally streaming down my cheeks. The next morning, the steel door groaned open. Carter walked in, holding a glass of warm milk. “Have you thought it through?” He looked down at me, his eyes completely devoid of warmth. I held onto the metal shelving and forced myself to stand up. “Carter, I’m pregnant.” Carter froze for a second, then his brows knitted tightly together. “Stella, are you seriously making up a lie like this just to keep the password?” I crumpled the ultrasound report and threw it at his face. “See for yourself!” Carter caught the paper. As he read the medical stamp, his expression shifted. But there was no joy in his eyes. Only panic and irritation. “Get rid of it,” he said coldly. I stared at him in disbelief. “What did you say?” “I said, get an abortion!” Carter raised his voice, his face twisting. “Tiffany hates kids. If she finds out you’re pregnant, the Vance family will pull their funding immediately!” “Stella, do not ruin my life right now!” My body was shaking violently. I pointed at the open door. “Get out! Get the hell out of here!” Carter sneered. “If you don’t hand over the password, you can rot in this room.” He turned and walked out, locking the steel door behind him. I collapsed onto the floor, swallowed by a wave of absolute despair. This was the man I had loved for five years. For money and status, he didn’t hesitate for a second to kill his own child.

I lost track of time. The steel door opened again. The bright light blinded me temporarily, and I shielded my eyes. The sharp click of high heels echoed in the empty room. Tiffany Vance walked in, wearing a Chanel tweed suit. She pinched her nose, looking at me with pure disgust. Two muscular bodyguards followed closely behind her. “Oh, so this is the pathetic rat who’s been begging Carter for scraps?” Tiffany walked up to me and kicked my leg with the toe of her designer heel. “You look so cheap. I have no idea how Carter tolerated you for five years.” I glared at her. “What are you doing here?” Tiffany giggled, pulled a document from her Hermès Birkin bag, and threw it in my face. “Just checking on the loser.” “And, helping you take care of the mistake in your stomach.” I looked down at the paper. It was an “Authorization for Termination of Pregnancy”. At the bottom right corner, Carter’s signature was written in bold, familiar cursive. “No… he wouldn’t…” My head spun, and my blood ran ice-cold. “Why wouldn’t he?” Tiffany knelt down, grabbing my chin tightly. Her long acrylic nails dug into my skin. “Carter said as long as it makes me happy, you and your bastard child are nothing but trash.” “My family has a reputation to protect. We can’t have a low-life woman giving birth to my fiancé’s child.” She stood up and wiped her hands with a wet tissue, looking disgusted. “Do it. Carter said as long as she has enough breath to write down the password, she doesn’t need anything else.” The two bodyguards immediately pounced on me like wolves. “Get off of me! This is assault!” I screamed, kicking and scratching with everything I had. But I hadn’t eaten in days. I was no match for two grown men. One guard pinned my shoulders to the ground, while the other raised his heavy boot and stomped hard on my abdomen. “AHHH!” An agonizing pain ripped through my body. I screamed, curling up into a tight ball. “Keep going until she miscarries,” Tiffany ordered coldly from the side. Another heavy kick landed on my stomach. Something warm and wet started flowing down my thighs, quickly soaking through my pants and pooling onto the concrete floor in a gruesome crimson stain. “My baby… help…” I weakly stretched out my hand, trying to grab onto anything. Tiffany walked over and stepped on my hand, grinding her heel into my knuckles. “Scream all you want. Nobody is coming to save you.” “Remember this pain, Stella. Know your place, and don’t try to climb into a world you don’t belong in.” She laughed, turning on her heel and leaving with her guards. The steel door slammed shut again. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my consciousness fading. My life was draining away. With the last bit of my strength, I reached into the hidden lining of my bra and pressed a tiny panic button. It was the exclusive GPS tracker for the sole heir of the Kingswell Group. “Beep—” A faint blue light flickered once. I closed my eyes, a single tear of blood slipping down my cheek. “Carter. Tiffany.” “You will pay for this with your lives.”

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On the eve of my engagement party to my fiancé, Brooks, our friends put together a “Mystery Box Game.” Each guy put a gift inside a box, and the girls drew them at random. When I opened mine, there was only a thin slip of paper inside: [Thank you for participating.] Brooks rubbed my hair gently. “Still as unlucky as ever, babe.” Bryant, my best friend since kindergarten, lowered his voice too. “It’s just a game, Alice. Don’t let it ruin your night.” Then it was Michelle’s turn. She opened her box. Inside was a pink diamond necklace Brooks had personally picked out, and a voucher for a couple’s getaway to Maui—a trip I had been begging Brooks to take me on for three years. There was also a card written by Bryant: [We will always protect you.] I forced a tight smile and set my empty box back on the table. It was just a lucky draw, right? It was all about luck. Until I went to the restroom and overheard the coordinator in the lounge checking the guest list. “Mr. Brooks, did we distribute the boxes correctly?” “The one with the gifts goes to Miss Michelle. The empty one goes to Miss Alice.” Brooks gave a casual “Yeah.” Bryant chimed in with a chuckle, “Perfect.” Standing outside the door, I quietly tore the paper slip into pieces. I’m canceling the wedding. This little game of luck they rigged? I’m not playing anymore.

When I walked back into the VIP room, everyone was crowding around Michelle, taking photos. The pink diamond necklace rested against her collarbone, sparkling like a teardrop being cradled in someone’s palm. Someone teased, “Brooks, you have crazy good luck. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were proposing to Michelle tonight.” Michelle’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. “Don’t say that. It’ll make Alice uncomfortable.” The moment she spoke, every eye in the room shifted to me. Seeing me walk in, Brooks frowned slightly. “Why are you standing by the door?” “Anyone would think someone was bullying you.” I looked at him, suddenly finding it hilarious. I was the one who got hurt, yet even my silence was treated as me throwing a tantrum. So, I didn’t move. Brooks’ brow furrowed deeper. Bryant stood up first and walked over to me. He had gentle eyes and always seemed to look at people with a warm smile. Before I turned eighteen, I always believed Bryant was the last person on earth who would ever embarrass me. But now, he bent down, keeping his voice incredibly low. “Alice, don’t make a scene and embarrass Brooks tonight.” I looked up at him. “Did I say anything?” Bryant choked on his words. Michelle clutched the necklace, her tears falling faster. “Alice, let me give the necklace back to you. I shouldn’t have taken it anyway.” The moment her hand touched the clasp, Brooks spoke coldly. “Keep it on.” Then Brooks turned to me. “The game decided who got it. That’s it.” I let out a soft chuckle. The room went dead silent. Brooks’ gaze turned icy. Bryant frowned. “Alice, it’s just a game. Do you have to make things so ugly?” He stepped in front of Michelle, shielding her. His voice was still soft, but it felt like a cold blade pressed against my throat. “Michelle has been insecure since she was a kid. She’s finally happy for once. Can’t you just let her have this?” There it was again. That same old line. I couldn’t help but look at Michelle. She was hiding behind Brooks, tears still hanging on her lashes, but the look she shot me was filled with a smug, silent triumph. A second later, Brooks stood up and walked over to me. He smelled of cold cedarwood. I was the one who chose that cologne for him. I told him it suited him—clean and sophisticated. But he used to complain it was too subtle. Later, Michelle said she liked it. He had been wearing it for three years now. He reached out, trying to ruffle my hair like he always did. I tilted my head and stepped back, dodging his hand. Someone in the room gasped. Brooks’ expression finally darkened completely. “I’ll be there for your bridal fitting tomorrow.” I looked up into his eyes. “You actually remember?” He stared back as if I had just said something ridiculous. “When have I ever forgotten a promise I made to you?” Just then, Michelle let out a soft cough. Brooks turned around instantly. “What’s wrong?” Michelle shook her head. “Nothing. My neck is just a little itchy. Maybe I’m not used to the necklace yet.” Brooks picked up his coat from the couch and draped it over her shoulders. Bryant looked at my pale face and sighed. “Alice, stop overthinking.” “Brooks is marrying you tomorrow. Michelle is just like a little sister to us.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Does a ‘little sister’ accept a pink diamond handpicked by the fiancé?” The smile faded from Bryant’s face. “Do you have to be so bitter?” Brooks looked back, his voice dropping to a warning whisper. “Alice, that’s enough.” Suddenly, I didn’t want to say another word. In this game of theirs, even after being humiliated, I was expected to smile and say, “Oh, I guess I’m just unlucky.” When the party ended, Brooks drove Michelle to the hospital. Her neck had broken out in a small red rash. Bryant stayed behind to take me home. As we reached the exit, he took off his scarf and wrapped it around my neck. “The wind is cold tonight. Don’t catch a cold.” I stared down at the scarf. He always did this. Just when I was about to give up on him completely, he would throw me a tiny crumb of warmth. And in the next second, he would push me right back into the dark. Sure enough, once the scarf was secured, he said, “Alice, don’t take tonight to heart.” “You know Brooks. He’s cold on the outside, but he cares about you.” “He’s going to your fitting tomorrow, and you guys are getting your marriage license the day after.” “You’ve already won. Stop fighting Michelle over these little things.” I looked at him. “What exactly did I win?” Bryant froze. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Because even he couldn’t answer that.

The next morning, I went to the bridal boutique alone. When the stylist pulled the main wedding gown out of the dust bag, her eyes lit up. “Miss Alice, this is absolutely perfect for you. Is Mr. Brooks joining us today?” I hesitated. “He’ll be here.” That was the very last time I would ever make excuses for him. But ten o’clock came, and he wasn’t there. At ten-thirty, his assistant sent a text: [Miss Alice, Mr. Brooks has an urgent matter to attend to. He might not make it today.] I dialed Brooks’ number. He actually picked up. But over the line, I could hear Michelle’s muffled whimpers in the background. “Alice, I’m at the hospital,” Brooks said. I gripped my phone tightly. “What happened to you?” “Not me. It’s Michelle. She had an allergic reaction to that necklace last night. Her neck is severely swollen.” I looked down at the wedding gown I was wearing. The corset was laced so tightly it made it hard to breathe. “Today is our wedding fitting.” The line went silent for a moment. Then, Brooks let out a heavy sigh. “Alice, don’t compare yourself to her.” “You’re the one registering the marriage with me tomorrow. You’re the one who will stand beside me at the altar.” “Michelle is sick, and I’m just staying with her for a bit. Do you really have so little security in our relationship?” A lump formed in my throat, choking me. Just then, a stylist walked over, holding a box. “Miss Alice, Mr. Brooks just had this delivered.” Inside was a pair of off-white satin wedding heels. The heels weren’t too high, and there were blister pads pre-applied to the back of the shoes. A card lay next to them: [Your heels blister easily. Don’t wear them too high.] Staring at the card, a sharp ache bloomed in my chest. So he did remember. When I was eighteen, the first time I wore high heels, my heels ended up bloody and raw. On the phone, his voice softened. “Did you get the shoes?” “Yeah,” I whispered. “Be good,” he said, coaxing me. “I’ll come home and have dinner with you tonight.” Before I could reply, Michelle’s voice drifted through the receiver. “Brooks, is my neck going to scar?” Brooks immediately turned away from the phone. “No, let me see.” The call clicked dead. I looked down at the shoes. The shoes fit perfectly. But the man who sent them never showed up. At 3:00 PM, Bryant arrived. By then, I had already finished trying on all the dresses. Bryant pushed the door open, and when he saw me, his eyes widened slightly. “You look beautiful.” He walked closer and looked down at my feet. His brow furrowed instantly. “Did you get blisters again?” He knelt down, pulling a tin of Band-Aids from his pocket. “Don’t move.” He applied the bandage with extreme gentleness, a routine he had mastered years ago. Once done, he looked up at me. “Does it hurt?” I didn’t answer. Bryant stood up and helped me up. “Let’s get in the car. It’s freezing outside.” It was pouring. He tilted the umbrella completely over my side, leaving his own shoulder soaked within seconds. I followed him to the car. Just as I was about to slide in, I noticed a white plush lamb sitting on the passenger seat. I froze. Bryant hesitated for a split second, then quickly held the door open, speaking in a casual, dismissing tone. “Just sit in the back.” I stared at the toy. “It can’t sit in the back?” Bryant went stiff. “Don’t start, Alice. Michelle has been waiting for this toy all afternoon.” “So, I sit in the back, and the toy gets the front seat?” He sighed deeply. “Alice, you’re different.” “You’re stronger than her.” Tears stung the back of my eyes. But I reached out and pushed his hand off the car door. “Bryant, I don’t want to be strong today.” The warmth on his face vanished. “Don’t make this hard for me.” I smiled weakly. “You always tell me to be understanding. Why do you never tell her to be understanding?” Bryant was silent for two seconds. Then, he said: “Because she actually cries.” I nodded slowly. “And I don’t.” I hugged my wedding gown bag tightly, turned around, and walked into the rain. The downpour was heavy. Within steps, the back of my heels began to throb with pain. I didn’t look back, and Bryant didn’t chase after me. Honestly, it didn’t matter anymore. Twenty minutes later, Michelle posted on her Instagram. In the photo, the white plush lamb was sitting clean and cozy next to her hospital bed. Her caption read: [Someone ran through the storm just to bring me this. He said he won’t rest until my pain is gone.] I stood by the side of the road, holding my heavy dress garment bag, my feet completely numb from the cold and pain. The boutique assistant ran out, handing me a small paper bag. “Miss Alice! You forgot your veil!” I took it. At that exact moment, I decided I didn’t want to register the marriage anymore.

But the next morning, I still went to City Hall. I just wanted to see, with my own eyes, if he would actually show up. At 9:15 AM, I saw Brooks’ car pull up across the street. When the car door opened, my chest loosened. I even subconsciously smoothed down my hair. Honestly, if he had just walked up to me and said, “Alice, I’m here,” I might have swallowed all of last night’s pain and pushed forward. But then his phone rang. Brooks answered it. I didn’t know what Michelle said on the other end, but his face turned pale. In the next second, he got right back into the car and drove away. The sound of the car door shutting was quiet, but it felt like a sledgehammer to my heart. Ten minutes later, Michelle posted on Instagram. [I told him I didn’t want to be alone, and he actually came back for me.] The photo showed Brooks holding her hand while she was hooked up to an IV. At 9:40 AM, Bryant rushed to City Hall. When he got out of his car, his face was lined with exhaustion, looking like he hadn’t slept. “Stop waiting, Alice. Brooks isn’t coming today.” I stared at him. “I saw him.” Bryant was stunned. He opened his mouth, but in the end, he only said, “Michelle’s allergy flared up again last night. She can’t handle any stress right now.” I asked quietly, “But I can?” He frowned. “Alice, stop asking things like that.” He stepped closer, his voice taking on a coaxing tone. “You’re the one getting the wedding, the title, and the name Mrs. Brooks.” “What does Michelle have? She only has us as her friends.” I packed up my ID, turned, and walked away. Bryant grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?” “The wedding planning company.” He let out a sigh of relief. “To finalize the schedule?” “Yeah,” I murmured. His face softened. “Good. Don’t ruin the big day. If you make a scene, you’re the one who will look bad.” At the wedding planner’s office, the coordinator looked incredibly uncomfortable. She pushed her tablet toward me to show me the screen. On the screen was a giant photo of Brooks standing in the middle, with me on his left and Michelle on his right. The photo was taken at Michelle’s birthday party last year. She was wearing a white dress, holding Brooks’ arm, looking like the real bride. I was standing off to the side, still holding the knife we used to cut her cake. The welcome sign had been changed too: [Thank you for witnessing our ten years together.] But why did “our ten years” have to include Michelle? I scrolled through the itinerary. Everything had been modified. In our wedding vows, there was even a paragraph dedicated to thanking Michelle. I looked at the coordinator. “Who approved this?” The coordinator said timidly, “Mr. Brooks did.” Seeing my face turn pale, Bryant immediately spoke up. “It’s just the welcome area, not the main stage.” “Michelle never had a real family. She just wanted to feel included.” I looked at him. “It’s my wedding. Why does she need to feel included?” Bryant’s voice grew heavy. “Alice, don’t be so petty.” Just then, Brooks called my phone. The moment I picked up, he asked, “Did you see the new itinerary?” “I did.” “Michelle cried all night, saying she felt like an outsider. I had them add a few photos.” I asked, “Do you think that’s appropriate?” “What’s wrong with it?” he snapped, his voice filled with impatience. “She’s your maid of honor, and she’s our mutual friend. You’re marrying me tomorrow, Alice, not a digital screen.” I kept scrolling. When I reached the jewelry confirmation page, my fingers froze. The note read: [Pearl earrings to be worn by Miss Michelle for the wedding promo video shoot.] Those pearl earrings were a family heirloom left to me by my mother. Before she passed away, she told me she wanted me to wear them on my wedding day. It was my “Something Old.” I asked, “Why is Michelle wearing my mother’s earrings?” Brooks was silent for a moment. “She’s just modeling them for the promo…” I cut him off. “Those belong to my mother.” “I know.” I let out a bitter laugh. “You know, and you still let her wear them?” Over the phone, Michelle started crying softly. “Brooks, forget it. I won’t wear them. I don’t want to make Alice mad…” Brooks’ voice softened instantly as he comforted her. “Don’t say that.” When he spoke to me again, his voice was like ice. “Alice, Michelle was just trying to help you test them out. Do you have to be so harsh?” I said, “Get them back. Now.” Brooks didn’t reply. Standing next to me, Bryant suddenly spoke up. “Alice, if your mother were still here, she wouldn’t pick a fight with a young girl over this.” I whipped my head around to look at him. The conference room went dead silent. Bryant flinched under my gaze, but he kept pushing. “Am I wrong? Your mother would have wanted you to be the bigger person.” “If she saw you making such a massive scene over a pair of earrings, she wouldn’t be happy either.” Slap! I slapped him across the face. On the other end of the line, Brooks roared, “Alice! Did you just put your hands on him?!” Bryant stumbled back, his hand on his cheek, his eyes wide with utter shock. “Alice… I don’t even recognize you anymore!” I didn’t answer him. I grabbed my bag and walked out. Behind me, Brooks’ voice came through the phone: “If you walk out now, don’t expect me home tonight.” I paused for a fraction of a second. “Whatever.”

At 11:00 PM, Brooks wasn’t home. I sat in the living room of our new house, flipping through the wedding program from start to finish. My name only appeared twice. This didn’t look like a wedding between Brooks and me. It looked like a celebration of three people. At 1:00 AM, the front door unlocked. Brooks walked in, smelling heavily of hospital sanitizer. Seeing me still sitting there, he frowned. “You’re still up?” I asked, “Where are the earrings?” He stopped unbuttoning his collar. “Michelle has to shoot the promo video tomorrow morning. They’re staying with her tonight.” I stood up. “Get them back. Now.” Brooks’ face darkened, the last of his patience completely evaporating. “Alice, I am marrying you tomorrow!” “What more do you want?!” I said, “I want my mother’s things.” Brooks let out a cold, arrogant chuckle that cut like a knife. “She’s literally just wearing them for a video, and you can’t even handle that?” “Alice, don’t be so greedy.” I stared at him, dumbfounded. To him, wanting my deceased mother’s heirloom back was “greedy.” Right then, Bryant called Brooks. His voice was frantic. “Brooks, we have a problem.” “Michelle says the earrings are gone.” My entire body went rigid. Half an hour later, we rushed to the hotel dressing room. Michelle was sitting in front of the vanity mirror, wrapped in Brooks’ coat, her eyes swollen red from crying. The vanity table was a complete mess. But the pearl earrings were nowhere to be seen. I looked at the stylist. “Where’s the security footage?” The stylist kept her head down. “The cameras broke this afternoon.” How convenient. I looked at Michelle. “Give them back to me.” Tears streamed down Michelle’s face. “Alice, I swear I didn’t take them!” “Then we call the police.” Michelle’s face turned pale. She suddenly stood up and made a move to throw herself against the wall. “It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have touched Alice’s things! I should just die!” Brooks caught her in his arms, and Bryant rushed over to help hold her back. The two of them shielded her, one on each side, keeping her safe in the middle. Brooks looked back at me, his eyes colder than ice. “Apologize.” I thought I had misheard him. “What did you say?” “Apologize to her.” He said it slowly, emphasizing every word. “She is already having a breakdown. How much further do you want to push her?” I stared at him. “Brooks, she lost my mother’s only keepsake.” “She said it wasn’t on purpose!” “And you just believe her?!” “Do you have any proof that she did it on purpose?” I was speechless. Bryant pleaded in a low voice, “Alice, just swallow your pride.” “You’ve already won. Why do you have to make things so hard for her?” Looking at them, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion washed over me. Michelle was clearly the one winning everything, yet everyone treated her like the victim. So, I nodded. I didn’t want to fight anymore. “Fine.” The dressing room went quiet. Brooks frowned, clearly not expecting me to give in so easily. Even Bryant looked stunned. I turned to Michelle. She was still shrinking behind Brooks, tears pooling in her eyes. I said, “I’m sorry.” Bryant stared at me, his lips parting. “Alice…” I didn’t look at them again. I slipped off my engagement ring and placed it quietly on the vanity. “The wedding can go on tomorrow.” “Don’t let me ruin your fun.” I turned and walked out. Brooks looked like he wanted to chase after me. But Michelle suddenly clutched her neck, her voice trembling, “Brooks, it hurts so bad…” Brooks immediately turned back to her, and Bryant instantly focused all his attention on her. In that split second, I stepped out of the room. By the time they looked up again, the door had closed, and I was gone. That night, I went back to the house and canceled every single wedding vendor, one by one. The wedding planner took my call at 3:00 AM, her voice trembling with panic. “Does Mr. Brooks know about this?” “He doesn’t need to.” Before the sun rose, I dragged my suitcase and left the city. On the morning of the wedding, at 10:00 AM. Brooks went to the jewelry store himself and picked out a pear-cut diamond ring. He stared down at the ring, his voice quiet. “She’s loved this cut since she was eighteen.” Bryant stood beside him, holding a long, black umbrella. My name was engraved on the handle. He smiled softly. “This should work too.” “She’s remembered that rainy night when we were eighteen for so many years.” Brooks shot him a look. “You still remember that?” Bryant’s smile faded a bit. “Yeah.” He paused, then added, “She apologized way too quickly last night.” Brooks scoffed. “She was just tired.” “After throwing a tantrum all night, she needed a way out.” Bryant nodded. “True.” He forced a laugh. “Alice has a soft heart.” “With you giving her the ring and me giving her the umbrella, she won’t be able to stay mad once she sees them.” But when the two arrived at the hotel venue, they found the staff taking down the wedding decorations. Brooks froze. “Who told you to tear this down?” The coordinator was shocked to see him. “Mr. Brooks… wasn’t the wedding canceled?”

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I heard my husband, Richard, charged a hundred dollars an hour for private tutoring. A student of his, Chloe, was practically begging me to save a spot for her. In my past life, I felt sorry for her and agreed. A month later, rumors spread like wildfire across the school that Richard had put his hands on her during their tutoring sessions. The day the school issued the official suspension notice, Richard locked himself in his study and never stood on a teacher’s podium again. Our daughter, Hailey, was pointed at by her classmates, who whispered, “Your dad’s a creep.” She cried every day and refused to go to school. My mother-in-law, Nancy, had trash thrown at her at the local grocery store. The neighbors avoided us like the plague. Meanwhile, Chloe took a minor bruise report to a local news station for an exclusive “brave girl speaks out” interview. She walked away with a $300,000 settlement from the school and was praised all over TikTok as a hero for “speaking her truth.” But now, I had been reborn. Chloe pushed open my office door, looking desperate. “Please, Sophia, just let me join Richard’s prep class! I really, really need this…” I sat behind my desk, my face completely expressionless. “Sorry, we aren’t doing private tutoring this year.”

Chloe froze. She clearly didn’t expect me to reject her so flatly. The office was dead silent. Paul, who worked at the desk next to mine, peeked over his partition. Chloe lowered her head, clutching the straps of her backpack so hard her knuckles turned white. Her voice sounded fragile, like it was about to crack. “But I asked around… they said Mr. Richard always takes a prep group before the SATs.” “My math score is terrible. He’s the only teacher whose explanations actually make sense to me.” “Sophia, I know my family isn’t rich, but I’ll find a way to pay the tuition. I promise.” I had heard this exact speech in my past life. Back then, I was stupid. I thought I was helping a struggling kid survive the college admissions race. I had even paid for her first week’s fees out of my own pocket. And what did I get in return? She dragged Richard into the mud and stepped on my family’s bleeding bodies to climb her way to fame. Looking at her watery, innocent eyes now, my stomach churned with pure disgust. “Chloe, the school adjusted the curriculum this year. Richard is not taking any extra students.” Her lips trembled. “Can I just stand in the back of the classroom then? I won’t take up a seat, and I won’t distract anyone.” “No.” “What if I only listen to the last ten minutes of—” “No.” With every “no” I dropped, the look of victimization on her face grew deeper. Soon, a few other teachers gathered near the office door. One of them whispered to me, “Sophia, she’s practically begging you. Don’t be so heartless.” “Yeah, her scores are tanking. If she doesn’t get them up, she’ll have to retake the SAT next year. Poor girl.” “Richard is used to working hard anyway. One more student won’t hurt him.” I looked up at them. In my past life, it was these exact guilt trips that backed me into a corner. “Just help her.” “You’re both educators, you shouldn’t just care about the money.” “It’s a kid’s future, don’t be so cold.” Yet, when the scandal broke, these were the very first people to run away and delete us from their contacts. No one remembered that they were the ones who forced her into our lives in the first place. Seeing people take her side, Chloe’s tears fell even faster. “I don’t want to cause trouble, Sophia.” “I just really want to go to a good college.” “My dad’s back is ruined from construction work, and my mom washes dishes at a diner. They told me if I don’t get a scholarship, I can’t go.” She bent forward, trying to give me a dramatic, apologetic bow. I moved fast, stepping aside to avoid it. “Don’t do that.” She froze mid-motion, a flash of humiliation crossing her eyes. I stared at her coldly. “If you want to study, do it. But don’t put on a show in my office.” Just then, Mr. Harrison, the Vice Principal, walked in, frowning. “What’s going on here?” Chloe looked at him like he was her savior and immediately turned to him. “Mr. Harrison, I wanted to sign up for Mr. Richard’s math prep class, but Sophia said he’s not doing it this year.” Mr. Harrison glanced at me. “Not doing it? Why wasn’t I informed?” I replied calmly, “Richard’s schedule is completely packed. He doesn’t have the time or energy for extra work.” Mr. Harrison’s face darkened. “Sophia, you work in administration. You know we have to look at the bigger picture. Chloe is one of our priority students this semester.” “Richard is one of our top teachers. He shouldn’t be picky about his students.” I let out a soft laugh. “Mr. Harrison, are we talking about an officially approved school program, or an unofficial private arrangement?” He choked on his words, unable to answer. The office went completely silent. Private prep schools have incredibly strict rules. Any after-school tutoring must go through the school’s billing system. Schedules, invoices, and parental consent forms are mandatory. In my past life, Chloe’s smartest move was framing a standard after-school Q&A session as a “private, secret meeting.” This time, I was going to leave her zero gray areas. Mr. Harrison cleared his throat. “Of course it’s an official school program.” “Great. Then we’ll follow standard protocol. We’ll use the AV recording room. We need her parents’ signed consent, and all tutoring sessions must take place directly under the school’s security cameras.” Chloe snapped her head up, her face turning pale for a split second. But Mr. Harrison didn’t notice. He just nodded. “Fine. Let’s do that.” I looked at Chloe. “Hear that? If you really want to study, we play by the rules.” She bit her lip, waiting a long time before finally nodding. “Okay.” But the sheer resentment in her eyes did not escape me.

That night, I pulled Richard out onto the balcony. He had just finished grading a mountain of tests. His glasses were still resting on the bridge of his nose, and he looked exhausted. “What’s wrong, babe?” I looked at him, my throat tightening. The last time he stood on a podium in my past life, he looked exactly like this. A crisp white shirt, black-rimmed glasses, and chalk dust on his cuffs. But later, he would flinch every time his phone buzzed. The vile comments online had acted like razor blades, slicing away his dignity piece by piece. He had done absolutely nothing wrong, yet he was forced to explain himself over and over again to a mob that didn’t care. “There’s no smoke without fire,” they had said. I took a deep breath. “Starting tomorrow, you are never to be in a room alone with Chloe. Not even for a second.” Richard blinked in confusion. “Chloe? The girl who came by today?” “Yes.” “Is something wrong with her?” I wanted to tell him everything about the past life. But the words got stuck in my throat, coming out as, “I had a really terrible nightmare.” He didn’t laugh at me. Richard was always like that. Even when things sounded ridiculous, he would listen to me seriously. I described what Chloe might do, framing it as a “dream.” He said he would be careful. I shook my head. “Being careful isn’t enough.” I slid a piece of paper across the table to him. It was a list of ten rules I had drafted. As Richard read through them, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper. “Sophia, do you know something I don’t?” I stared into his eyes. “I just know that human nature is sometimes much harder to solve than any math equation.” He fell silent for a long time, then folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. “I trust you. I’ll do it.” The next day, Chloe officially joined the six-person AP Calculus prep group. I personally moved the class to the third-floor AV room. When Chloe signed the attendance sheet, her fingers hesitated. I stood beside her. “Any questions?” She looked up, offering a sweet, innocent smile. “No, Sophia. You’ve thought of everything.” I smiled back. “We have to protect our students. And our teachers.” The voice recorders were standard school equipment. Serial numbers, check-out times, and return logs—everything was strictly documented. They were meant for resolving classroom disputes, but in my past life, nobody had thought to use them. This time, I wasn’t letting a single detail slip through the cracks. For the next two weeks, Chloe was on her best behavior. She was so quiet that I almost thought I had successfully rewritten our destiny. But by the third week, she started testing the waters. When the bell rang and the other students packed up and left, Chloe stayed behind, holding her workbook. “Mr. Richard, could you explain this problem to me one more time?” Richard glanced at the door. The female teaching assistant I had assigned immediately stepped into the room. “I’ll stay and listen too,” the assistant said with a polite smile. Chloe’s expression stiffened. “Never mind. I’ll just figure it out at home.” Another time, she collapsed in the hallway, clutching her stomach right as Richard was walking by. “Mr. Richard, I feel so dizzy…” Before Richard could even speak, I stepped out from around the corner, with the school nurse right behind me. “What’s wrong? Let’s get you to the clinic.” Chloe gasped when she saw me, panic flitting across her face. “I… I think my blood sugar is just low. I’ll be fine if I sit down.” Then, she started sending late-night messages to Richard on Snapchat. [Mr. Richard, I really can’t take this pressure anymore.] [I don’t want to live.] [Can we please just talk? Just between us. Please don’t tell anyone.] In my past life, these exact screenshots were leaked and edited into a viral video. “If their relationship was totally innocent, why did she only reach out to him?” the internet had screamed. This time, Richard didn’t reply. Instead, he took screenshots and posted them directly into the school administration’s group chat, tagging the school counselor and Chloe’s homeroom teacher. Within ten minutes, the school counselor contacted Chloe’s parents. When Chloe came to school the next day, her eyes were red and swollen. She marched up to my desk, her voice dropping to a cold whisper. “Sophia, I trusted Mr. Richard. Why did you have to turn this into such a massive deal?” I looked up. “Because your life is more important than your secrets.” She stared at me. At that moment, the fragile, victimized mask she wore slipped, just for a second. “You really know how to play the saint, don’t you?” I closed my file folder. “And you really know how to act.” Her expression shifted, but then she quickly lowered her head and let out a soft, mocking laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I ignored her. But I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer.

A month later, on a Friday afternoon, the parent group chats exploded. I was in the administration office verifying the schedule for the next week when my phone started vibrating violently. Seconds later, someone dropped a link into the school’s public forum. The headline made my eyes burn. [Eighteen-Year-Old Prep School Student Breaks Down: ‘I’m Too Terrified to Go to Class After What My Math Teacher Did to Me’] The thumbnail of the video showed Chloe in her school uniform, her eyes swollen like plums, sobbing into the camera. “I hesitated for so long… I didn’t know if I should speak up,” she whimpered. “He’s a highly respected teacher, and I’m just a student. That night, after everyone left, he kept me behind…” She didn’t finish the sentence. But the silence she left was more damaging than any direct accusation. The comment section was already in a state of absolute fury. [Another monster hiding behind a teaching license.] [The school needs to fire him immediately!] [It takes so much courage for a young girl to stand up like this.] [Doesn’t this guy have a daughter of his own? Does she know what a creep her father is?] My hands shook so violently I almost dropped my phone. The ghost of the internet mob from my past life was clawing its way back to me. A second later, Richard called. His voice was steady, but noticeably hoarse. “Sophia, don’t look at the internet.” I could hear a massive commotion on his end of the line. People were shouting in the hallway: “Mr. Richard, did you really do it?” “Is the school calling the police?” “Are Chloe’s medical reports real?” I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. “Where are you right now?” “The third-floor conference room. Mr. Harrison called me in to explain.” “Don’t say a word. Wait for me.” I slammed the phone down and ran out of the office. As I passed the middle school building, I saw my daughter, Hailey, sitting in the corner of her counselor’s office. She was clutching her backpack, her eyes bloodshot from crying. On the desk in front of her lay a crumpled piece of paper. Scrawled on it in black marker were the words: Creep’s Daughter. My brain went entirely numb. In my past life, this was the exact moment Hailey stopped going to school. She had locked herself in her room, asking me over and over again, “Mom, Dad isn’t a bad guy, right? Tell me he didn’t do it.” I walked in and knelt in front of her. “Hailey.” The moment she saw me, she burst into tears. “Mom, everyone is saying Dad did something horrible…” I pulled her into a tight embrace. “Your father did nothing wrong.” “And this time, I am going to make sure everyone shuts their mouths.” Her tiny body trembled in my arms. I handed her over to a colleague I trusted completely, then turned and stormed upstairs. The hallway outside the conference room was packed with people. Parents, teachers, board members, and a few strangers holding up smartphones to film. One woman in a beige blazer and heavy makeup had her phone camera pointed directly at the closed door. I recognized her instantly. Amber, a local influencer who specialized in “social justice” content. She was also Chloe’s cousin. In my past life, she was the mastermind who packaged Chloe as the ultimate victim. She had edited out all the logical loopholes in Chloe’s story, leaving only tears and dramatic silences. She had gained millions of followers off those viral videos. Later, she even launched a masterclass on her TikTok, teaching young girls “how to protect themselves from predators,” making a fortune in the process. As I approached, Amber was speaking directly into her livestream. “We are currently live outside the administration building at prep school.” “The teacher in question is inside, but the school administration has been completely silent. We have to ask: is academic prestige being used as a shield to protect a predator?” The surrounding parents started chanting in agreement. “Make him come out!” “Stop hiding him!” “Suspend him now!” I pushed the heavy double doors open. Inside the conference room, Richard sat on one side, his face completely pale. Mr. Harrison stood at the head of the table, sweating profusely. Chloe was curled up in a corner, a blanket draped over her shoulders, her body shaking as she sobbed. Next to her lay a medical report. Soft tissue contusion. I looked at those words and wanted to laugh. They didn’t even bother to change their script from my past life. Mr. Harrison looked at me like I was a ticking time bomb. “Sophia, thank god you’re here.” “The situation is completely out of hand. You need to convince Richard.” I asked coldly, “Convince him to do what?” He lowered his voice, leaning in. “Just have him issue a temporary apology and step down for a few days.” “The school will offer Chloe some financial compensation to quiet down the media. We need to stop this from escalating.” I stared at him. “Richard did absolutely nothing. Why on earth should he apologize?” Mr. Harrison’s face turned red. “This is not the time to be stubborn, Sophia!” Chloe suddenly let out a loud, dramatic wail. “Sophia… do you think I’m lying?” She lifted her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I know you’re his wife. Of course you don’t believe me.” “But what girl would ever make up something like this? Why would I put myself through this nightmare?” Amber’s camera immediately shoved past the doorway, aiming straight at my face. “Sophia, as a woman, why is your first instinct to protect your husband instead of supporting a vulnerable student?” I looked straight into the camera lens. In my past life, this exact question had nailed me to a cross. The moment I tried to defend my husband, the internet branded me as an “enabler” and an “accomplice.” This time, I wasn’t going to let them control the narrative. I pulled out my phone, unlocked it, and dialed 911 right in front of everyone. “Yes, I’d like to report a crime.” “We have an active case of extortion, defamation, and malicious slander taking place right now.” The entire conference room went dead silent. Chloe’s crying abruptly stopped. Amber’s smug smile froze on her face.

Mr. Harrison was the first to panic. “Sophia! Are you insane?” “We haven’t even investigated this internally yet! Why are you calling the police?” I looked at him with sheer disgust. “Exactly. It hasn’t been investigated, which is why the police need to handle it.” “Or were you planning to play judge, jury, and executioner in this conference room?” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Amber recovered quickly, pivoting her phone back to me. “Are you all seeing this? The moment a victim speaks out, the school administrator calls the police to intimidate her. Is this how they silence victims?” I walked right up to her face. “Miss Amber, you’d better save this livestream raw.” “You are filming minors without consent, disrupting school operations, and actively inciting a targeted harassment campaign against a teacher’s family. My lawyer will be receiving a copy of every single second of this.” Her expression soured. “Who do you think you’re threatening?” I smiled. “Try me.” Chloe started sobbing loudly again. “I don’t want the police involved! I just wanted an apology!” Hearing this, the parents outside started murmuring again. “Look how terrified she is.” “Calling the police is just going to traumatize her more.” “The school can’t use the law to bully a student.” I suddenly raised my voice, cutting through the noise. “Chloe.” She flinched. I locked eyes with her. “In your viral video, you claimed that on the night of March 27th, after after-school tutoring ended, Richard kept you alone in the third-floor classroom. Is that correct?” She bit her lip, then nodded. “Yes.” “Are you absolutely sure?” “Yes.” “And you claim there was no one else in the room but the two of you?” Her face went pale for a split second, but she forced herself to double down. “Yes.” Richard stood up abruptly. “I did not—” I pressed a hand firmly on his shoulder, keeping him grounded. “Easy, Richard.” Then, I turned to Mr. Harrison. “Mr. Harrison, pull up the security footage from the third-floor hallway from that night.” Mr. Harrison frowned. “Sophia, the hallway cameras only show people entering and leaving. They can’t prove what happened inside the classroom.” A flash of smug satisfaction crossed Chloe’s eyes. She thought she had won. She knew she hadn’t done anything suspicious on the hallway cameras, and she knew the cameras couldn’t see into the corners of the classroom. She knew that allegations like this succeeded because they were impossible to disprove. As long as she stuck to her story, Richard would never be able to wash the dirt off his name. But what she didn’t know was that I had been planning for this exact day for an entire month. Two police officers arrived shortly after. “Who called 911?” I raised my hand. “I did.” I gave them a quick, clear summary of the situation and handed over a sealed manila envelope I had prepared in advance. As the officers flipped through the documents, their expressions became incredibly serious. Mr. Harrison wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Officers, the public backlash online is severe right now. Maybe we should just suspend Richard first to prevent—” “No,” I interrupted him flatly. He glared at me. I ignored him, looking directly at the officers. “Officers, Chloe is accusing my husband of an incident that allegedly occurred after 9:45 PM on March 27th.” “That class took place in the AV recording room. All students signed a consent form prior to starting the program.” “I am officially requesting that we play the audio recording from that classroom from that night, right here, right now.” Chloe’s head snapped up. Amber’s hand holding the phone began to tremble. “Classroom recording?” Chloe’s voice pitched high, laced with sudden panic. “But… I thought the mic was turned off after class ended!” I stared at her, my voice ice-cold. “The notice on the door is very clear, Chloe.” “The audio equipment automatically records from the start of class until thirty minutes after the room is cleared. You signed the agreement yourself.” The color completely drained from her face. Amber tried to salvage the situation, yelling, “How do we know you didn’t tamper with the audio?” I reached into my bag and pulled out a sealed, transparent evidence bag. “The voice recorder used that night was checked out by the teaching assistant according to school protocol, and sealed immediately upon return.” “The seal, the log, and the serial numbers are all fully documented.” I looked around the room. “Chloe, didn’t you want justice?” “Let’s listen to what actually happened in that room.”

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After my daughter died, I finally became exactly what Alpha James Sterling wanted me to be. He kissed his human adoptive sister. I acted like I didn’t see a thing. He slept with her. I was even willing to buy them condoms. Everyone in the pack praised me for being mature and generous. James finally let his guard down around me. But I used that exact moment to escape, fleeing to the Forbidden Zone for five whole years. Five years later, I returned. James knelt in the freezing snow, begging for my forgiveness. I only gently wrapped my arm around the man beside me and smiled. “Alpha James, long time no see. Meet my true mate, Alpha King Zane.” Elena POV After my daughter died, I finally became exactly what James wanted me to be. He stayed out partying with his friends until midnight. I stopped asking when he would be back, and I stopped caring who he was with. When he got drunk and mumbled “Clara” in his sleep, I didn’t throw a tantrum anymore. Even when I was ambushed and severely injured outside, I dragged my bleeding body back to the packhouse alone, quiet as a ghost, and patched myself up. Gamma Frank looked at my wounds, his eyes filled with worry. “Luna Elena, should I call Alpha James?” James? I let out a soft laugh. It was self-deprecating, but mostly, it was the sweet taste of letting go. “No need,” I whispered. “We aren’t close.” Frank opened his mouth to protest, but eventually closed it. As my second-in-command, he knew exactly what had happened in this pack. He knew the hell I had been through. Once he left, the bedroom fell back into a suffocating silence. I closed my eyes. My daughter’s sweet, smiling face flashed across my mind. I could still hear her tiny voice calling me “Mommy.” But right after that came James’s cold, heartless face. “Elena, Anna needs the antidote. Only Clara has the cure. But she has one condition.” “She wants you to leave.” “Your departure in exchange for Anna’s life. It’s a fair trade, isn’t it?” Fair? What a joke! When had James ever been fair to me? Only after I married him did I find out that his heart belonged to Clara, the fragile, helpless human girl his parents had adopted. I had been naive enough to believe that since we were fated mates, my love would eventually be enough to win him over. But five years of marriage only brought me to a point where he forced me to choose between my daughter’s life and my marriage. If he hated me so much, why did he accept me in the first place? In the end, I agreed to leave. I gave up my title as Luna just so he would save our daughter. But he lied to me. At the very last minute, Clara smiled and claimed she actually didn’t have the cure. And James? He just patted my shoulder and said indifferently, “Clara is just a human. How could she get her hands on Wolfbane? We’ll find another way.” Another way? The poison in Anna’s tiny veins was spreading every second. There was no time. Two weeks ago, Anna took her last breath in my arms. At that exact moment, my heart died with her. “Luna, the Alpha is here,” Frank’s voice called gently from the door. I opened my eyes and, right on cue, James was standing at the doorway. He was still painfully handsome. His black wool coat made him look tall and imposing, but there was a dark, irritable shadow lingering between his eyes. The silver glow in his eyes faded as he walked over to my bed. He looked down at me, his tone laced with his usual accusation. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? If the pack warriors hadn’t informed me, how long were you planning to hide this?” I stared back at him. I knew he was only here because his wolf demanded it. If this were the past, I would have been thrilled by his concern. But now, even my inner wolf remained dead silent. “Alpha James is a busy man. I didn’t want to bother you with such trivial matters.” I paused, adding coldly, “Besides, we are over. I won’t be your Luna for much longer.” I emphasized the title “Alpha James” to draw a clear line between us. I knew he hated this version of me. In his memory, I was always the girl who blushed at his slightest touch, who waited up all night with a warm plate of food, and who cried under the blanket whenever Clara made an intimate phone call to him. Back then, he found me annoying. He said I was too dramatic, too clingy to be a proper Luna. But now, I was exactly what he wanted. I didn’t care about his life, and I didn’t need him when I was sick. Yet, he looked furious. “I haven’t accepted your rejection yet! We are still mates! Even if we end things, I am still Anna’s father!” James growled, desperately trying to use our dead daughter to hold onto the last thread of our connection. At the mention of Anna, my body stiffened, but I quickly forced myself to calm down. “Anna doesn’t need a father anymore.” I lowered my gaze to hide the raw grief in my eyes. “James, the moment you chose Clara over Anna, you lost the right to be her father.” “You!” James’s face turned pale. He wanted to snap back, but no words came out. Just then, his phone buzzed. It was his custom ringtone for Clara. He instinctively glanced at me. I had already turned my face to the window, ignoring him completely. James answered the phone, his voice instantly softening. “Clara? What’s wrong?” Clara’s weak, sobbing voice echoed through the quiet room. “My chest hurts so much. James, I’m scared. Can you come over?” James frowned. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up, swallowed hard, and looked at me as if he wanted to explain. I spoke first. “Go. I have plenty of people to look after me.” He couldn’t say a word. The moment the door slammed shut, a single tear finally escaped my eye. It wasn’t for him. It was for the foolish girl who had loved him so blindly, and for the sweet little daughter who never got the chance to grow up. I reached under my pillow, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number. “Professor Charles, I accept the Royal Council’s assignment. I’ll go to the Forbidden Zone for the Wolfbane research project.”

Elena POV The Forbidden Zone. It was the only place in the world where werewolves dared not step. It was created ten years ago during a brutal war between two massive packs. One side had used a highly volatile, mutated strain of Wolfsbane. But they didn’t realize the poison was airborne. It infected everyone in the area. Most died instantly. The survivors went completely feral, turning into mindless rogues. The 18-year-old prince had personally led his royal guards to settle down the battle, forcing all packs to migrate. He then gathered the top healers and scholars in the country to establish a research base right on the border of the contaminated zone. On the phone, my former herbology professor from the Werewolf Academy spoke in a serious tone. “Elena, this project is funded directly by the Royal Family. It requires a five-year commitment. During this time, you will be under strict NDA. You cannot contact anyone from the outside world. It means cutting off your entire past, including your family. Are you absolutely sure about this?” I gripped my phone tightly. “I am absolutely sure.” “But you rejected this offer three times before just to stay by James’s side. Are you really ready to leave everything behind for five years?” Ready? What was left for me here? My heart was dead. “Professor, James and I are done. You don’t have to worry about him.” “What? You mean that bastard actually rejected you?” In the werewolf world, it was incredibly rare for fated mates to separate. Most wolves remained fiercely loyal to their mates, finding peace and happiness only in their other half. But James chose a human. My inner wolf let out a painful whimper, mourning the injustice of our fate. This was exactly why I had to leave. I couldn’t stay here and let my wolf suffer his humiliation day after day. “Don’t be angry, Professor. I am the one leaving him.” “Fine. I understand. Your departure is scheduled for the fifth of next month. I’ll email you the NDAs. Once you sign, there’s no turning back.” The call ended, and the email arrived seconds later. Without a shred of hesitation, I signed my name. As the screen went black, it reflected my pale, hollow face. James and I had met at our graduation ball. He was the young, powerful Alpha of the Ironridge Pack, and I was the top graduate of the Academy. The Moon Goddess had chosen me to be his fated mate. I still remembered how he walked up to me, pulling me into his arms and kissing me passionately, whispering, “Mine.” My wolf had howled with joy back then. We actually had a sweet honeymoon phase. But shortly after I got pregnant, I accidentally overheard a heated argument between James and his mother outside his study. “…Elena is your fated mate! She is brilliant and perfect for the Luna title!” “But I don’t love her, Mom! You know who has my heart!” “That’s exactly why I’m stepping in! You either treat Elena right, or I will send Clara to a place where you will never find her!” That was the day I realized James was hopelessly in love with Clara. Even though his wolf craved my scent, his heart belonged to her. And yet, I had foolishly stayed, believing that my love could change his mind. Now, reality had slapped me in the face and taken my daughter’s life. I didn’t wait for James to come home. I grabbed a large cardboard box and began packing up everything that no longer mattered to me. I carried the heavy box to the trash incinerator behind the packhouse and threw it in. Suddenly, a loud screech of brakes echoed through the yard. “What are you doing?” James demanded, slamming his car door shut and rushing toward me. He looked inside the incinerator and saw the items I had thrown away. Our first date souvenirs. The little gifts he brought me from his business trips. Our honeymoon photos. And even my diaries. “Elena, have you lost your mind?” James stared at me in disbelief. “You used to treasure these things. Why are you throwing them away?”

Elena POV “It’s nothing,” I said, not even looking at him. “These things used to be valuable to me, but now they are just trash. There’s no point in keeping trash.” I turned to walk back inside, but James quickly caught up and grabbed my wrist. “Elena!” he yelled at the staircase, pulling me back. “How long are you going to keep acting like this? I am grieving Anna too! I am her father! Do you think you’re the only one hurting?” “You’re hurting?” I repeated, looking at him as if he had just said the funniest joke in the world. “If you actually cared about Anna, you would have believed me instead of Clara! You missed the only window to save our daughter!” I still remembered the day I figured out the toxin in Anna’s body was a rare form of Wolfbane. I realized the only cure was the blood of the person who poisoned her. And I knew, without a doubt, it was Clara. But when I told James, he had scoffed. “Clara is a fragile human. She doesn’t even know what Wolfbane is! Your jealousy is making you delusional, Elena!” He refused to believe his precious Clara could do such a thing. “Elena, please, stop this,” James sighed, pulling me into a tight embrace, his voice softening. “We are still young. We can have another baby. We can…” “Don’t touch me! You disgust me, James!” His words triggered something violent inside me. I shoved him away with all my strength. Unprepared, James stumbled back, hitting his back against the wooden banister. He stared at me, shocked. I let out a cold laugh. “James, let me make this very clear. I, Elena Vance, formally reject you as my mate and my Alpha. If you don’t accept it, I will find another way to break this bond. You can have babies with whoever you want, but it will never be me.” My only child was Anna. And she was dead. Seeing the cold determination in my eyes, James panicked. “I only asked you to leave back then to trick Clara into giving up the antidote! I didn’t think she would actually lie about it…” He swallowed hard. “I will never accept your rejection. We are not breaking up.” Too late. What James didn’t know was that I had already submitted a petition to the Lycan Council. If he refused my rejection, I would ask the Alpha King himself to sever our bond. I ignored him, turned around, and locked myself in my bedroom. “Elena!” James tried to follow, but his phone rang again. He pulled it out and answered irritably. “Clara, what is it now?” “If your stomach hurts, go to the hospital! I am not a doctor!” I didn’t care what Clara said next. All I heard was the sound of James leaving the packhouse once again. This had happened too many times to count. Over the years, Clara had used every excuse, chest pain, panic attacks, fevers, to drag James away whenever Anna and I needed him. In the past, I would cry, scream, and smash things in the house. But now, my heart was a flatline. When you truly stop caring, the things that used to drive you crazy don’t even make you flinch.

Elena POV The next afternoon, James came home early. He told me he had booked my favorite French restaurant and hired the violinist I loved to play for us. “Go change your clothes. Let’s go out,” he said. “I’m not going,” I replied instantly. “Elena, you’ve been locking yourself in this room since the funeral. You’re going to make yourself sick,” he said, his eyes filled with genuine worry. “Just come out for some fresh air, okay?” How ironic. I had spent years begging for his attention, and now that my heart was completely dead, he was suddenly playing the caring husband. Before I could refuse again, he grabbed my hand and practically pulled me into his car. “It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. It’s just the two of us anyway.” I tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight. But when we arrived at the restaurant and the hostess led us to our table, I froze. Sitting at the table, wearing a delicate white dress, was Clara. I turned to James and smiled mockingly. “So this is your idea of ‘fresh air’?” “She feels incredibly guilty about what happened to Anna,” James whispered, tightening his grip on my wrist. “When she heard I was taking you out, she begged me to let her come. She wants to apologize to you face-to-face.” Clara stood up, her eyes immediately welling with tears. “Elena, I am so, so sorry… I know nothing can bring Anna back, but I truly want to make it up to you…” “Shut up!” I snapped, slapping her hand away. “Apologize? Make it up to me? What kind of game are you playing now, Clara?” Clara’s tears fell instantly. “I know you’ve always hated me, and I know you blame me for Anna’s death… but losing Anna broke my heart too…” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Enough, Clara! If you’re actually sorry, go kneel at Anna’s grave! Don’t bring your pathetic acting in front of me!” Clara froze, then looked at James with a trembling lip. “James…” James frowned, looking at me as if I was being entirely unreasonable. “Elena, she came here in good faith. Can’t we just leave the past in the past? We are family.” “Who is her family?” I interrupted, my eyes cold as ice. “My only family was my daughter, and she is dead.” The air in the restaurant turned freezing cold. Without another word, James grabbed my shoulders and forced me into my seat. “We didn’t come here to fight. Sit down, eat, and listen to the music.” He clapped his hands, and the waiters began serving the dishes. The violinist started playing a beautiful, soft melody. The food was everything I used to love, and the music was perfect. But I couldn’t swallow a single bite. Sitting across from Clara made me feel physically ill. Halfway through the dinner, I excused myself to the restroom. When I walked out, Clara was waiting for me by the door. The weak, tearful girl was gone. Instead, she had a smug, wicked smirk on her face. “How does it feel, Elena?” Clara whispered, leaning in. “To have hope dangled in front of you, only to have it ripped away into total despair? It must hurt like hell, right?”

Elena POV I didn’t even want to look at her. I tried to walk past her, but she stepped in my way. “You know,” Clara sighed fake-sadly, “Anna had such a beautiful little face. Those cute little dimples when she laughed… It’s such a pity she had to die so young.” My heart, which I thought was numb, shattered all over again at the mention of my daughter. I glared at her. “You never had the cure, did you? You set me up from the start just to watch me suffer, didn’t you?” “So what if I did?” Clara smirked. “James and I are the ones who belong together. You’re just an annoyance the Moon Goddess forced on him. That little brat you gave birth to was a mistake anyway. She deserved to die.” She leaned closer, her eyes glittering with malice. “Oh, by the way… did I mention? The poison inside your daughter… was cultivated using James’s own blood. The only antidote was his blood too.” “Clara!!” A mistake? Deserved to die? And the poison was made from James’s blood? Every ounce of my sanity snapped. I raised my hand and slapped Clara across the face with all my strength. The force of the slap sent her stumbling back. “You.” She clutched her red cheek, but instead of fighting back, she immediately burst into tears, a triumphant gleam flashing in her eyes. “What do you think you’re doing!” a furious voice roared from behind. Before I could react, a heavy hand grabbed my shoulder and violently shoved me away. I lost my balance and crashed hard against the brick wall. My head hit the solid surface with a sickening thud, making my vision go completely black for a second. Realizing he might have pushed me too hard, James froze. “Elena, I…” Suddenly, the heavy, gilded painting hanging on the wall above me shook. The wire snapped, and the massive frame came crashing down. “Watch out!” James yelled. His protective instincts kicked in, but instead of saving me, he instinctively lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Clara and shielding her with his body, turning his back to me. The heavy painting crashed directly onto my head. I didn’t even feel the pain before darkness swallowed me whole. When I finally opened my eyes, I was back in my bedroom at the packhouse. My head felt like it was about to explode. “You’re awake,” James’s voice came from the bedside, sounding relieved. I stared at the ceiling, not moving a muscle. “Does it hurt anywhere?” His eyes were glowing silver, meaning his wolf was currently in control. I shook my head slowly, watching as the silver faded and James’s human consciousness took over. He reached out to touch my forehead, but I flinched, turning my head away. James’s hand froze in mid-air, a flash of anger crossing his face before he suppressed it. He pulled his hand back and said in a cold, lecturing tone: “No matter how much you hate Clara, you shouldn’t have hit her. She is just a fragile human, and you are a werewolf. You could have killed her! How could you be so cruel?” I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t even have the energy. Of course. To him, Clara was always the victim who needed protection, and I was the violent monster. Even when he literally shielded Clara and let a heavy painting crush me, he didn’t care. “Do you know what she said to me?” I asked, turning my gaze to him. James scoffed. “What could she possibly say? She wanted to apologize, and she brought up Anna, which made you upset. I know you’re grieving, Elena, but Clara is…” “She said,” I interrupted, “that Anna was a mistake who deserved to die.” “How dare she say that?!” his wolf roared in my mind. But I knew it wasn’t James speaking. I was sick of the constant conflict between him and his wolf. “She also said that she was the one who poisoned Anna.”

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I had just finished slaving away at my late-night food cart, scrubbing grease off the flat-top, when I finally hit the milestone: fifty thousand dollars. It was every cent Hannah needed for her startup capital. Then, my phone buzzed. It was a FaceTime call from an unknown number. When I picked up, the face staring back at me was my own—only ten years older. Exhaustion forgotten, my heart leapt with a sudden, naive hope. I leaned into the screen and asked him, “Did she do it? Did Hannah’s business take off? Did she buy us that house with the big yard she always talked about?” I held my breath, waiting for the payoff of all those sleepless nights. “She promised me a beautiful wedding. Tell me, did I cry like a baby when she walked down the aisle?” The older version of me didn’t smile. He just shook his head, his voice dead and flat. “Hannah’s startup took off during her senior year,” he said. “In your timeline, she’s already a millionaire. She bought the house, Sean. But you’re not the one living in it. It’s Devon—the scholarship student you spent your own rent money to help.” My breath caught. “And that wedding?” he continued, a cruel edge slicing through his quiet tone. “You cried, alright. But only because you had to watch her marry Devon.” I stared at the screen, a nervous laugh bubbling up in my throat. “This is a joke. Who is this?” Instead of answering, he reached up and slowly pulled down his black face mask. The face beneath was mine, but ruined. A web of thick, jagged burn scars puckered across his skin, distorting his jaw and cheek. Before I could even scream, he tilted the camera downward. He lifted his pant legs to reveal a pair of cold, metallic prosthetic limbs. “This is what loving Hannah Kelly gets you,” he said, his eyes hollow. “This is your future.” “If you don’t believe me,” he added, “go to the Sapphire Lounge right now. The private room in the back. She’s there with him.” 1 The call disconnected. The silence in my cramped, dark apartment was so thick I could hear the erratic rush of my own breath. I tried to tell myself it was a prank, a deepfake, some elaborate hallucination brought on by sheer exhaustion. But the image of that ruined face, those metal legs, was burned into my retinas. It was too vivid, too terrifyingly real to ignore. Driven by a desperate, sickening panic, I grabbed my keys and drove to the Sapphire Lounge. The club was loud, a low bass vibrating through the floorboards, but the VIP hallway was quiet, smelling of expensive cologne and leather. When I found the door to Hannah’s private booth, my fingers hovered over the brass handle. Before I could push it open, a burst of laughter drifted through the gap. “Come on, Hannah,” a voice teased. “You bought Devon such a gorgeous birthday present. The least you can do is put it on him.” I leaned in, peering through the narrow crack in the door. There she was. Hannah. She was holding a sleek, heavy wristwatch, her fingers gently threading the leather strap around Devon’s wrist. She looked up at him, her eyes soft, glowing with an intimacy I hadn’t seen in years. My heart stopped. I recognized that watch. I’d seen it in a luxury magazine last month. It was a Patek Philippe. A hundred thousand dollars. Instinctively, my left hand went to my right. My fingers brushed against the cheap, lightweight band on my ring finger. She had put it there just yesterday. We were sitting on our sagging secondhand sofa when I asked her to marry me. No flowers. No grand gestures. Just us in our tiny kitchen. She’d slipped the ring onto my finger, her eyes filled with a sudden, tearful guilt. “I’m so sorry, Sean,” she’d whispered, kissing my cheek. “I don’t have the money for anything better right now. But once my business takes off, I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy you the world.” I had squeezed her tight, telling her I didn’t care about rings or money. As long as I had her, I had everything. When Devon had come over to congratulate us later that night, he’d looked at the ring and made a passing joke about how it looked like something bought off a cheap wholesale site. At the time, I’d brushed it off as him just being his usual blunt self. But standing in that hallway, a cold, sharp pain bloomed in my chest. He hadn’t been joking. My ring really was a cheap piece of online junk. But his watch—his watch was something she had spent months planning for. I stepped back into the shadows of the hallway, my hands trembling as I pulled out my phone. I typed a message to the number from the video call. When did they start? I wrote. If they love each other so much, why keep up this agonizing lie? Why not just break up with me? My future self replied almost instantly. Hannah told me they’ve been together since graduation, the text read. She didn’t break up with you because she couldn’t bear the thought of Devon being labeled a traitor or a gold digger. She pitied him. She hated that he had to stay in the shadows while she built her empire. So, she gave him the money, and she gave you the title. A bitter laugh escaped my throat, tasting like ash. Hannah and I had grown up together. When she was ten, her parents died in a tragic car accident. I remember her sitting on our porch, looking so small and broken, that I begged my parents to adopt her. We became family. The very first night she slept under our roof, she looked at me with tear-streaked eyes and promised, “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you’re happy, Sean.” And Devon. He was my high school classmate. His family lived below the poverty line, struggling to keep food on the table. Back then, my father’s business hadn’t collapsed yet. I used my own allowance to buy Devon lunch, to pay for his study prep books, to make sure he didn’t fall through the cracks. On his sixteenth birthday, he sat in my room and told me I was the first person who had ever made him feel like he mattered. The two people who had promised to protect me were the ones holding the knives. Inside the room, Hannah’s voice cut through the laughter, sharp and authoritative. “Nobody breathes a word about me and Devon to Sean. I mean it. I don’t want him starting drama or making Devon’s life difficult.” It felt like someone had shoved a handful of dry sand down my throat. Even when she was warning people about me, she was doing it to shield Devon. I stumbled away from the door, running blindly out of the lounge and into the cold night air. The city lights blurred before my eyes as cars rushed past on the wet asphalt. I pulled out my phone again, typing with numb fingers. Is this the night? I asked my future self. Is this the night you lost your legs? His reply took a long time to load. No. It’s in three days. You’ll come home early from your food truck shift and find them in our bed. You’ll lose your mind. You’ll scream, you’ll demand answers, until Hannah finally snaps and tells you the truth. You won’t be able to breathe. You’ll run out into the pouring rain, blind with grief, and step right in front of a speeding truck. My lungs seized up. By the time I dragged myself back to the apartment, my body felt like lead. I lay on the mattress in the dark, staring at the peeling wallpaper, unable to quiet the screaming in my head. It was nearly two in the morning when Hannah finally came home. By the time she crept into the bedroom, she had already changed out of her designer clothes and back into her old, faded grey t-shirt and worn-out jeans—the uniform of the struggling entrepreneur she pretended to be. I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep as she slipped beneath the covers. But when she settled in, turning her back to me, the quiet became unbearable. I reached out and gently took her hand, squeezing her fingers. “Hannah?” I whispered into the dark. “Are you marrying me because you love me?” The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Finally, she gave my hand a weak, reassuring squeeze. “Of course, Sean,” she murmured, her voice soft but distant. “I told you. We’re going to build a home together.” I pulled my hand back, a cold, bitter smile settling on my face. A home. She was doing this out of a sense of obligation, out of a childhood promise. Not love. And because there was no love left, my future self had ended up in ruins. The next morning, Hannah was already gone when I woke up. It was the perfect opportunity. My mother’s medical bills at the care facility were mounting, and every decision I made was ruled by tight budgets and cheap alternatives. As I walked around the apartment packing my things, I realized with a sudden, aching clarity how little I actually owned. Aside from my legal documents and a few changes of clothes, there was nothing of value. Nothing worth keeping. I had just zipped up my battered suitcase when the front door swung open. Devon walked in, a heavy silver key fob swinging from his index finger. He gave me a smug, bright grin. “Hey, Sean. Look what my girl just bought me.” He tossed the keys in the air and caught them. “I swear, she’s crazy. She already bought me a townhouse last year, and today she wanted to buy me a Porsche. I told her it was too flashy for a daily driver, so I compromised on a fifty-thousand-dollar BMW instead. Oh, by the way, I ran into Hannah downstairs. We rode the elevator up together.” If this had been yesterday, I would have smiled and congratulated him on finding someone who treated him like royalty. But today, hearing the words “fifty thousand dollars” and “Hannah” in the same breath made my blood run cold. I turned toward the doorway. Hannah walked in right behind him, her eyes lingering on Devon’s face before she finally looked at me. “The fifty thousand dollars in our joint savings account,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “You… you transferred it?” Hannah nodded casually, tossing her purse onto the kitchen counter. “Yeah. My startup needed some quick liquidity for a new inventory shipment. I took it this morning.” She noticed the raw, red rim of my eyes and paused, looking slightly puzzled. “What’s that look for? Didn’t you tell me two days ago that you finally hit the fifty-thousand mark? You were sleeping so peacefully this morning, I didn’t want to wake you.” A jagged, burning pain sliced through my chest. I remembered the night she cried about not being able to afford a decent wedding ring. I had held her close, telling her I only needed another hundred dollars to hit our fifty-thousand-dollar goal. I told her we would use it to launch her dream. She had taken those words, waited until I was asleep, and used my sweat and blood to buy Devon a car. Images flashed through my mind: evading the city inspectors in the freezing rain, arguing with angry customers, collapsing on the curb over a five-dollar discrepancy because my bones ached so badly. My throat felt parched. “Hannah… do you have any idea how hard it was for me to save that money?” I had no intention of letting her keep it. I needed that money to move my mother to a better, safer care home, far away from this city. Hannah stared at me, a brief flicker of guilt crossing her face before she brushed it off with a quick, dismissive smile. “Sean, I know you work hard. But don’t worry, once my business starts bringing in real revenue, everything I make is yours anyway. Besides, between your regular job and the food cart, it’s not like you have time to spend money anyway.” She knew how hard I worked. She knew the physical toll of those late-night shifts. But when it came to Devon, my pain was a sacrifice she was entirely willing to make. Before I could say another word, she grabbed Devon’s sleeve, pulling him toward the door. “This idiot managed to scrape the bumper against a concrete pillar on the way here,” she said over her shoulder, giving me a bright, artificial smile. “I’m going to go with him to the auto shop to get it sorted out.” Devon rolled his eyes, nudging her playfully. “Who are you calling an idiot?” They bickered softly, their voices fading down the hall as the elevator doors slid shut. It was a scene I had witnessed dozens of times before, but today, the scales had fallen from my eyes. It was sickeningly clear. I walked over to the window, looking down at the street below. I watched Hannah walk Devon to his brand-new car, naturally reaching out to open the driver’s side door for him. As my eyes lingered on the scraped front bumper of his car, my mind flashed back to last week. I had been rushing from my day job to get the food cart set up in time. I was driving too fast, took a corner too sharply, and my old truck flipped over. The impact had shattered the windshield, glass slicing into my forehead. I lay on the asphalt, blood pooling around my head, fading in and out of consciousness. With trembling fingers, I had dialed Hannah’s number. Her voice had been soft, but unyielding. “Sean, sweetheart, I’m in the middle of a pitch meeting. Can you call an ambulance and head to the ER? I’ll be there as soon as this wraps up.” I sat in the emergency room for six hours, getting fifteen stitches in my brow. She never showed up. Later, she told me the client had dragged the meeting out until midnight. That same night, lying alone in my hospital bed, I saw Devon post a picture on social media. It was a shot of two hands holding drinks, captioned: “Finally found my forever.” I had stared at the delicate, slender hand resting in his, feeling a strange, nagging sense of familiarity. Only now, after seeing my future self, did I realize those were Hannah’s fingers. I dialed my future self on FaceTime again. “If I leave her right now,” I pleaded, staring at his scarred face, “if I just pack up and disappear, can I stop all of this? Can I save us?” He looked back at me, his eyes dark with a heavy, sorrowful pity. “It’s too late to stop the first tragedy, Sean. It’s already happened.” He took a slow, jagged breath. “Dad’s death? That was Devon.” A wave of pure, icy dread washed over me, starting from my chest and freezing my limbs. The memory of my father’s body lying broken on the pavement outside his office building rushed back into my mind, sharp and agonizing. I clenched my fists, forcing my voice to remain steady. “What did Devon do?” A tear slipped down my future self’s scarred cheek. “He stole our family company’s proprietary designs and sold them to our biggest competitor. That’s why Dad went bankrupt. That’s why the debts were so overwhelming he felt he had no choice but to jump.” My hands began to shake violently. I had been the one who got Devon that internship at my dad’s firm. I had begged my father to give him a chance. I never imagined that a boy who looked so sweet and harmless could harbor such venom. “The competitor paid Devon a fortune,” my future self continued. “And he turned around and used every single dollar of that blood money to fund Hannah’s first startup. That was her seed capital.” My voice shook. “Did… did Hannah know?” The older Sean closed his eyes, tilting his head back to keep from sobbing. “She claimed she didn’t. I didn’t believe her. I lost my mind, grabbed a knife, and tried to stab her. She blocked it, and I ended up slicing her arm. But even after she found out exactly what Devon did to my father, she stayed with him.” I squeezed my eyes shut, a sob catching in my throat. “What do you want me to do?” He opened his eyes, burning with a desperate intensity. “Take Mom and run. Get her out of that care facility immediately.” He swallowed hard. “After they confessed their affair to me, Devon went straight to the facility to find Mom. He mocked her, taunted her about Dad’s death, until she had a psychotic break and tried to attack him. Devon stabbed her right through the heart.” The room felt like it was spinning. “I went to the police,” my future self whispered, his voice cracking. “I wanted him executed. But Hannah used her money, her lawyers, and her influence to spin the story. They made it look like self-defense. She told me… she actually looked me in the eyes and said, ‘Sean, your mother is already gone. There’s no point in ruining Devon’s life over an accident.’” My knees gave out. I collapsed onto the dusty floor of my apartment. I hated myself. I had welcomed the wolf into our home. I wanted to scream, to tear my own hair out, but looking at the ruined man on the screen, a profound, hollow exhaustion settled over me. I wanted to ask him about the fire. I wanted to ask how his face had been destroyed, what other horrors were waiting for him. But in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to say a word. After we hung up, I drove straight to my mother’s facility. Seeing her sitting quietly by the window, her mind fragile but peaceful, I knew I had to act. I called a trusted friend from college, someone outside Hannah’s circle, and arranged to have Mom transferred to a specialized private clinic in another state. My friend worked quickly. By that afternoon, Mom was safely checked out and on her way. On my drive back, I passed through the market district where I usually set up my food cart. Through the crowded sidewalk, I spotted them. Hannah and Devon. They were walking hand-in-hand, their fingers laced together. He said something that made her laugh—that beautiful, genuine laugh I used to love—and she looked up at him with a gaze so full of pure devotion it made me physically sick. I covered my mouth, leaning against the steering wheel as a sob finally broke through. This was the girl who had held onto my hands for dear life when we were children, refusing to let go when I slipped into a storm drain. This was the woman who, after my father died, held me in the dark and swore we would rebuild our lives together. She had become an absolute stranger. A sharp, burning pain flared in my abdomen. It had been lingering for weeks, but today it was unbearable. For peace of mind, I drove myself to the local clinic. After running some blood tests and an ultrasound, the doctor sat me down with a grim look. “Mr. Collins, you have severe gastric ulcers. You need immediate treatment and rest. You cannot keep pushing your body like this.” I stared at the medical report, feeling a strange, dark echo. I picked up my phone and called the older Sean once more. “What happened today?” I asked. “In your timeline, on the day you got your diagnosis.” He let out a ragged, trembling sigh. “The exact same day I found out about my stomach, Hannah took a pregnancy test. It was positive. They hid the truth from me. They let me believe the child was mine.” My chest tightened as his voice broke into a full sob. “I loved that boy, Sean. I loved him with every fiber of my being. I raised him for ten years, wiped his tears, took him to baseball games… and then, on the day Hannah and Devon finally had their public wedding, Devon cornered me. He laughed in my face. He told me the boy was his. And the worst part? The kid already knew. They had taught him to treat me like a foolish servant.” The sheer cruelty of it left me numb. I reached my hand toward the screen, wishing I could reach through the glass and comfort him. “So… you couldn’t take it anymore. You set the fire?” He nodded slowly, a look of profound regret passing over his scarred features. “I wanted to end it. But Hannah dragged me out of the flames. She wouldn’t even let me die in peace. Now I’m stuck like this. Half-human, half-monster. And the hatred… it eats me alive every single day.” A heavy weight settled over my chest. I took a deep, steadying breath. “I understand,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.” I hung up the phone and walked back into my empty apartment. Just as I crossed the threshold, my phone buzzed with a text from Hannah. Working late at the office tonight, babe. Won’t make it home. Don’t wait up! I stared at the screen for a moment, then locked my phone without replying. I slept for what felt like days, drifting in a dreamless, heavy fog. When I finally opened my eyes, I was surprised to find Hannah sitting at our small kitchen table. She was wearing her favorite faded grey hoodie, looking like the same girl I’d loved for a decade. “Morning, Sean,” she said softly, offering a warm smile. “I brought breakfast.” I sat down across from her, my expression entirely neutral. She slid a beautifully wrapped box toward me. “Your support meant everything. We secured the new account, and I wanted to get you a little something to say thank you.” I opened it. Inside was a high-end electric razor. I looked at it, then gently closed the lid. Hannah’s eyes searched mine, a trace of anxiety in her voice. “You don’t like it?” No, I didn’t. Last night, Devon had posted a picture of this exact razor on his social media, mocking it as “grandpa gear” before quickly deleting the post. I realized she must have bought it for Devon first, and when he rejected it, she decided to pass it off to me as a romantic gesture. I looked up, forced a small smile, and said, “It’s nice. I’ll try it out after breakfast.” She seemed to relax, letting out a soft sigh. “Sean… there’s something I need to tell you.” Before she could finish her sentence, her phone blared on the tabletop. I didn’t need to look at the screen to know who was calling. She answered quickly, her tone instantly shifting to panic. “What? I’m on my way. Hold on!” She hung up and scrambled to grab her purse. “Sean, I’m so sorry. Something came up. I have to go.” I remained silent, taking a slow sip of my coffee. She made it to the doorway, but then she froze. She slowly turned back to look at me, her expression thick with an odd, lingering anxiety. “Sean?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I’m going?” She was waiting for me to play my usual role—the doting, slightly worried fiancé who would tell her to drive safely. I offered her a polite, empty smile. “If I ask, will you stay?” She flinched, the words hanging heavy in the air. She stared at me for a long moment before speaking with intense solemnity. “Wait for me here. Please. I have something really important to tell you when I get back.” “Okay,” I replied softly. “I have a gift for you, too.” A soft, hopeful smile touched her lips, and she turned and left. The moment the front door clicked shut, I stood up. I placed the cheap engagement ring she had given me on the center of the kitchen table. Beside it, I laid the electric razor. Then, I grabbed my packed suitcase and walked out of the apartment without looking back. Stepping into the bright morning sunshine, I pulled out my phone and sent a final text to my future self. Don’t hate anymore. Your nightmare is over. Meanwhile, after rushing to the hospital to check on Devon, Hannah’s anxiety only deepened. Unable to shake the cold dread in her stomach, she ignored his pleas for her to stay and drove back to the apartment like a madwoman. When she pushed open the door and found the place unlocked and dead quiet, her heart sank. She saw the empty closet. She saw the ring on the table. Panic clawed at her throat. She realized she had to find me, to explain everything, to fix this before it was too late. But as she spun around to run back to the stairs, she collided with a woman standing in the hallway—a woman who looked older, exhausted, but wore her exact same face.

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I am the biological daughter who was lost for fifteen years. When my family finally brought me back, my adoptive sister, terrified that I would slowly usurp her place, hired men to abandon me in the freezing Alaskan Barrens during a family vacation. I survived in that frozen hell for a month, nearly torn to pieces by wolves, before a local bush-dweller miraculously found me and saved my life. When I returned home, bloodied and hysterical, I told my parents she had tried to murder me. My parents brushed it off. “Beatrice was just being immature,” they said. “It was a prank, and she already knows she was wrong. Let it go.” I couldn’t accept the reality that my own parents didn’t love me. In a fit of raw, desperate rage, I took a knife and slashed Beatrice’s arm. Furious, they shipped me off to Stonebridge Academy—a brutal reform school disguised as a boarding school—to “break my spirit.” I spent three agonizing years there in a living hell until my heart turned entirely to stone. Three years later, they sent a car to bring me home. I escaped halfway through the drive and fled back to Alaska. I became a wilderness search-and-rescue specialist in the Barrens. For twenty years, I never lost a single soul. On my thirty-fifth birthday, I received a very specific rescue request. I looked at the dossier, shook my head, and said, “This one, I won’t save.” ……. Jonas, our local community lead, froze, the joy draining from his weathered face. He grabbed my sleeve, his voice tight with panic. “Kaya, why? Why won’t you save him?” “This is easy for you. If you pull him out, they’re offering five million dollars. That’s enough to replace your rusted prosthetic leg, and it would buy the targeted therapy drugs for your cancer.” “That five million is your lifeline. Why are you throwing this away?” I glanced down at the battered, scuffed prosthetic on my left leg and shook my head quietly. “I’ve lived long enough, Jonas. There’s no need to drag it out.” “If I say I’m not going, I’m not going. Just tell them I’ve gotten old and cowardly.” Jonas stared at me, his eyes filled with disbelief. “Old and cowardly? Kaya, if you were afraid of death, you wouldn’t have taken up Mika’s mantle as a search-and-rescue leader in these unforgiving wilds.” “Lately, the wolf packs in the interior have grown massive, and the danger of going out there is through the roof. Everyone else stopped doing runs years ago.” “Only you. For over twenty years, whenever someone screamed for help, you went out—no matter the blizzard, no matter the storm.” “And now you’re telling me you’re afraid to die? I don’t buy it.” My voice remained steady. “My mind is made up. I’m not saving him. You can find someone else.” Jonas sighed, defeated. “Who else? No one has been out into the deep Barrens in six years. They don’t even know the shifting ice paths. Besides, there are hundreds of wolves out there now. If a pack catches a scent, there won’t even be bones left to bury.” “But you’re different. You saved those pups years ago, including the alpha. The pack knows your scent. They won’t touch you.” Jonas ran out of breath. Seeing my stone-cold expression, he lowered his voice, almost begging. “Kaya, please. The boy’s name is Brody. He’s the only heir to one of the biggest billionaires in the country. People that rich… they look for scapegoats. They won’t care about your reasons.” “You have the power to save him. Why invite their wrath and bring trouble down on yourself?” I replied flatly, “Let them be angry. I’m not changing my mind.” Jonas sighed, defeated. He dialed a number on his satellite phone. When the call connected, he spoke with a heavy, pitying tone. “The boy just had his eighteenth birthday. His life hasn’t even truly begun. Can you really bear to let him freeze out there, to let the wolves tear him to pieces?” Eighteen… My mind drifted. I was eighteen when Beatrice had me dumped in the freezing Alaskan interior. I had struggled alone for a month before the wolves finally tracked me down and tore into my leg. Just as I was preparing to die, Mika, a local woman, risked her own life to drag me out and eventually helped send me back to the family who had cast me aside. And when I finally fled that family, hollowed out and broken, it was Mika who took me in. She taught me how to navigate the wilderness, how to survive, how to save others. The first time a survivor wept at my feet, thanking me for saving their life, something inside me healed. I found a purpose. I stayed in Alaska, saving hundreds of lives over two decades. Every rescue wasn’t just about saving someone else; it was about rescuing that terrified, eighteen-year-old girl sobbing in the dark. My thoughts were shattered by an arrogant, sharp voice coming through the speaker of the satellite phone: “If you bring my son back alive, I’ll double it. Ten million.” The familiarity of that voice made my chest tighten. I had spent twenty years convincing myself I had let the past go. But hearing her voice, the old, jagged glass in my chest cut deep. I took a slow, steady breath to quiet the storm inside me. “It isn’t about the money. I can’t do it. I won’t save your child.” On the other end of the line, Beatrice’s voice turned shrill and venomous. “I’ve done my research! You go in and out of the Barrens like it’s a walk in the park. You have the ability to save him, but you’re choosing to let him die. Aren’t you afraid of retribution?” Retribution? I whispered the word to myself and let out a cold, bitter laugh. Oh, Beatrice. Your retribution is already here. Back then, when they brought me back, I had been naive enough to think we could be sisters. I didn’t realize she saw me as a parasite. Terrified that my return would threaten her inheritance and her parents’ affection, she hired men to discard me in the freezing wilds during a family cabin trip. I had wept, begging her to let me go, promising I would leave the family and never claim a dime. Her cruel, venomous words had been burned into my soul for over twenty years: “You’re just a piece of trash they dug up from the dirt. You think you get to be my sister?” “Only when you’re dead will everything in this family truly belong to me.” I was left to rot, my leg mangled by wolves, rendering me a cripple. When Mika saved me and I dragged myself back to our estate, sobbing as I told my parents the truth, Beatrice merely shed a few crocodile tears. She clutched our mother’s sleeve and whimpered: “Mom, I just wanted to play a prank on her. I didn’t think she’d actually get hurt! I’m so sorry!” And my mother immediately shielded her, dismissing my agony with a casual wave. “Beatrice was just being careless. She apologized. Stop being so vindictive.” My mother’s eyes had been cold, filled with a warning. I had lost a leg, and she called it a careless prank. That was the moment I realized they would never love me. Hysterical and broken, I grabbed a paring knife from the counter, lunged at Beatrice, and screamed, “Then let’s see how you like my prank!” My mother threw herself in front of Beatrice, slapping me hard across the face, sending me crashing to the floor. “How did I give birth to such a monster? Your sister made a mistake, and you try to take her life? You should have just died out in the snow!” When my father returned, he didn’t even look at my bandages. He arranged for me to be sent to Stonebridge Academy, barking coldly: “You can come back when you’ve learned some basic decency, respect, and how to behave like a civilized human being.” The abuse I suffered at that reform school stripped away whatever affection I had left for them. The moment I escaped, I fled. But the despair of that day remained lodged in my chest like a rusted nail. Beatrice’s voice cut through my memories again: “If you rescue my boy, I will fund a state-of-the-art school for your village. I’ll make sure every single kid in that town gets a world-class education and a ticket out of there.” Jonas’s breath hitched beside me. I paused, but my voice remained flat. “I’m sorry. I cannot help you.” I hung up. Jonas looked at me, his eyes rimmed with red. “Kaya, did you hear her? She’s offering a future for the kids.” “We live in a place where teachers quit after three weeks because of the isolation. Our kids have to travel hours in freezing temperatures just to get to a basic middle school.” “We’ve been trapped in this cycle of poverty for generations. This is their only shot at a different life.” “Please, I’m begging you. Save the boy.” Listening to Jonas’s desperate plea, my lips trembled. “Jonas… it’s not that I don’t want to. I truly can’t. I won’t survive it, and neither will he.” Before the words fully left my mouth, the deep, thrumming roar of a helicopter echoed overhead, followed by the crunch of tires on ice. A fleet of black SUVs pulled up outside my cabin. The cabin door was thrown open. Beatrice, flanked by my biological parents, stepped inside. “Are you the legendary Kaya who navigates the Barrens?” Beatrice scanned me from head to toe, her expression dripping with cold arrogance. I looked at the three of them. There wasn’t a single flicker of recognition in their eyes. I had only spent three months with them before being shipped away. Now, after twenty years of harsh Alaskan winds, biting frost, and manual labor, my skin was weathered and dark, my cheeks flushed with permanent windburn, my frame thickened by years of hauling heavy gear. I looked nothing like the fragile, pale girl they had discarded. I said quietly, “I never said I could navigate it freely.” Beatrice’s lip curled in disgust. She cut me off dismissively. “Cut the act. You’re holding out for more money, aren’t you?” “Fine. Bring my son back, and I’ll give you fifty million.” I remained silent. Beatrice took my silence as greed, her tone turning venomous. “Don’t get greedy, sweetheart. Too much cash might choke you.” “Beatrice, mind your manners.” My mother pulled Beatrice back slightly, offering me a polite, plastic smile. “My daughter is just out of her mind with worry, Ms. Kaya. Please don’t take offense.” “Please try to understand our position. Brody is the sole heir to our family’s legacy. If we lose him, it will destroy us.” “You must have family of your own. Surely you can understand a mother’s desperation? I am begging you, as an old woman—save my precious grandson.” Seeing my biological mother humble herself to protect the child of the woman who had tried to kill me… a sharp, familiar pain bloomed in my chest. I wanted to scream at her. She isn’t even your blood! You give her and her son everything, so why couldn’t you spare even a drop of love for me? I didn’t need much. Just a crumb. But the words died in my throat. I pulled my lips into a cold, hard line. “I’m afraid I can’t relate. I was abandoned by my parents as a child, and I’ve never had a family of my own.” “I said no. Take your business elsewhere.” “You miserable bitch!” Beatrice’s face contorted with pure hatred. She pointed a finger in my face, her voice shrieking: “You cold-blooded freak! No wonder your parents threw you away. You deserve to die alone. I hope you rot in hell!” “Beatrice, calm down.” My father stepped in, gently patting her shoulder before turning his sharp, calculating eyes on me. He spoke in a measured, powerful tone: “Ms. Kaya, the golden window for rescue is closing. We have less than ten hours. Every second you waste puts my grandson closer to death.” “You’re refusing because the price isn’t right. Fine. Save my boy, and I will personally hire elite tutors to ensure every child in this village gets into an Ivy League school.” “On top of that, I will write a check for one million dollars to every single resident in this town.” “I believe that is more than generous.” “But if you still refuse…” My father’s eyes turned glacially cold as he gestured toward Jonas. “My conglomerate owns the distributors that purchase the wild chaga and morel mushrooms harvested by your people. It is the only source of income for this entire region.” “If you continue to stall, I will blackball your village. I will cut off your livelihood completely.” “Your people can starve on this frozen tundra for all I care. And I promise you, I keep my word.” Jonas’s face drained of color. He fell to his knees in front of me, grabbing my coat. “Kaya… they’re billionaires. They can do it.” “Please. For the sake of my mother who saved your life, bring the boy back. We can handle the cold, but the kids… their futures shouldn’t die here!” “Did you forget what my mother said before she died? She wanted the kids to see the world beyond these mountains!” I looked at Jonas’s tear-stained face, then glanced out the window at the local children huddled in the snow, watching us with terrified, wide eyes. The weight of their entire future crashed down on my chest. Tears welled in my eyes, but my voice remained a whisper. “I’m sorry. I really can’t save him.” “Why?! Why won’t you just save him?!” Jonas scrambled to his feet, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me in sheer, broken desperation. “Stubborn bitch,” Beatrice spat, her smile turning vicious. She turned to the armed security guards standing behind her. “Round up all the kids in this village. We’re taking them into the Barrens.” She laughed, a manic, desperate sound. “The biggest threat out there is the wolves. If we feed them first, they won’t touch my son.” “If this freak won’t go, we’ll use these local stray dogs to pave the way. One way or another, I’m getting my son back.” The guards moved instantly, heading toward the door. Jonas threw himself in their way. “Stop! Stop it! The kids have nothing to do with this!” I couldn’t believe the depth of her depravity. I shook with rage. “Beatrice! This is kidnapping! You’re breaking the law!” Beatrice lunged forward and kicked me hard in the chest. I crashed to the floor, my worn-out prosthetic snapping off and skittering across the wood. She stood over me, looking down with absolute disdain. “The law? There isn’t a cop for a hundred miles, you pathetic cripple. Who’s going to stop me?” “Besides, all of your worthless lives combined aren’t worth a single hair on my son’s head. Dying for him is the highest honor you’ll ever have.” “Don’t worry. Once he’s safe, I’ll pay some priest to pray for your miserable souls.” The guards dragged the screaming children from the snow, binding their wrists with zip-ties. “Kaya! Help us! I don’t want to go to the wolves!” “Kaya, I’m scared!” The screams of the children mixed with the desperate shouts of the villagers trying to fight off the armed guards. The scene was absolute chaos. And my biological parents stood there, watching the brutality unfold with cold, silent approval. Jonas was pinned to the floor by a guard. He watched his own nephew being thrown into the back of an SUV and screamed at me, his voice cracking: “Kaya! For God’s sake, tell me why! What did they do to you that’s worth sacrificing all of us?!” I stared at the cold, indifferent faces of my biological parents. I let out a ragged, hysterical laugh, and screamed at the top of my lungs: “Why?! Because his mother is the monster who tried to kill me!” “If I go out there, the only thing I’ll do is throw her son directly into the jaws of the wolves myself!” “Just like you did to me twenty years ago, Beatrice!”

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I had spent a whole year looking forward to it—the one day my father would take the train down to Boston to see me. But it was barely two in the afternoon when Leona looked up from her phone and said, “Your dad should probably get going.” We had been married for seven years, and every single year, my father made this trip. And every single year, he was ushered out the door before sunset. I wanted to ask him to stay the night, to tell him I’d already made up the guest bed. But before I could even open my mouth, Leona added, “He can keep those slippers if he wants.” He had been wearing them for less than three hours. She didn’t hand them to him. She just gave them a careless flick with the toe of her shoe, sending them sliding across the hardwood floor until they clattered to a stop near his feet. My dad flinched. Then, a slow, tight smile squeezed onto his weathered face. He bent down, his joints popping slightly, and scooped them up. “Thank you, Leona,” he muttered. He was so small, so desperate to avoid being a burden. I knew exactly what he was doing—he was shrinking himself so he wouldn’t cause trouble for me. Before my dad could even straighten up, Frank walked out of the guest bedroom. He was holding a can of Lysol, spraying the air with aggressive, systematic puffs. “God, it’s filthy in here,” Frank muttered, coughing dramatically. “I think my allergies are acting up. Honestly, Leona, you can’t just let anyone track dirt into the house.” Frank had been living in our guest room for three months. Leona had driven two hours to pick him up and bring him to our home herself. My dad’s face flushed a deep, painful crimson. Mortified, he clutched his cheap plastic bag of belongings and hurried toward the door. My tongue felt completely numb. I looked at Leona, waiting for her to say something, anything. But she didn’t even look up. She just turned around and helped Frank spray the entryway. I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my coat and ran out after him. “Dad, wait! I’m coming with you.” … He ended up forcing me to go back. He stood there on the platform, stubbornly pushing my shoulder, trying to smile even though his eyes were raw and red. I stood there for a long time, watching his heavy, slightly hunched back disappear into the crowd. I felt hollowed out. It wasn’t until a sharp, persistent ringing broke the silence that I snapped out of it. It was Leona. “When did you go out?” I looked down at my watch. Almost two hours had passed. It had taken her two hours to notice I wasn’t in the apartment. Before I could even answer, she continued: “Frank wants those roasted nuts from the shop down the street. Grab some on your way back up.” The words I wanted to say died in my throat. “Okay,” I said, and hung up. When I walked back into the apartment, Frank was in the middle of throwing my dad’s favorite mug into the trash can. I reached out and caught his wrist, pulling the mug back. “What’s wrong with this?” I asked. Frank looked a bit embarrassed, but he quickly recovered, offering a smooth, plastic smile. “Oh, it’s just old. Corey bought a brand-new ceramic set for the kitchen, so I was just clearing out the clutter.” “Don’t throw it away,” I said, my voice tight. “I’ll use it.” He shut his mouth, looking sheepish, and took the grocery bag from my hand. As he turned to walk away, I said, “Frank, here’s the receipt.” He froze, not reaching for it, and turned his head toward Leona. She had just stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her wet hair. Her voice was incredibly casual. “Don’t worry about it, Dan. It’s just a few dollars. Let Frank have them.” One hundred and seventy-eight dollars. It wasn’t a fortune. But this was the ninth time this month. In total, I had spent over two thousand dollars on Frank’s errands and cravings. He had never offered to pay me back once. Yet, just this morning, Leona had refused to let me buy my dad a seventy-dollar train ticket. “Your dad has a pension,” she had said, not even looking up from her tablet. “He can pay for his own ticket. Besides, the money you’re spending is marital property.” My dad’s train ticket was “marital property.” But Frank’s snacks were “just a few dollars” of our shared money. Before I could say a word, Frank smiled triumphantly and retreated into his bedroom, leaving me standing in the hallway, my hand still holding the crumpled receipt in midair. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my heart. “When is Frank moving out?” I asked. “Corey is still looking for a place,” Leona replied. She had been giving me that exact answer for three months. “He’s been looking for a long time,” I said, keeping my voice level. “Can’t he just find a temporary studio, or stay with other relatives?” Leona’s hand stopped mid-stroke as she dried her hair. Her expression turned cold, slightly defensive. “Why are you in such a rush? Is someone else planning to move in?” Before I could speak, she sighed, a heavy, performative sound. “Even if someone is, isn’t there another spare room in this place anyway?” Yes. There was a spare room. But she couldn’t find it in her heart to let my father stay in it for even one night. My fingers clenched, crushing the paper receipt into a tiny, sharp ball in my palm. Outside, the sky had turned a bruising shade of purple, and then the rain started. A sudden crack of thunder rattled the windowpanes, and my ears began to ring. When my dad was a boy, he had slipped down a muddy ravine during a flash flood, trapping his leg for hours. Ever since, he had been terrified of heavy storms. During bad rainstorms, his anxiety would spike so violently he would sometimes bite his own tongue until it bled. My temples throbbed. I immediately dialed his number. It rang twice before someone answered—but it wasn’t my dad. “Hello? Are you related to the owner of this phone? He just collapsed in the waiting area of the transit station. We’re loading him into an ambulance right now.” A cold sweat broke out across my back. I thanked the stranger with a trembling voice, hung up, and bolted into the bedroom. As I threw on a dry shirt, I called out to the living room: “Leona, my dad collapsed. My car is still at the mechanic. I need you to drive me to the hospital to get him.” But when I walked out of the bedroom, the living room was empty. Leona was gone. Panic clawed at my chest. I called her three times in a row, but each call went straight to voicemail. Frank walked out of his room then. With Leona gone, he didn’t bother hiding his irritation. He looked at me with open disgust. “Dan, for God’s sake, you’re not a child. Leona went to pick up Corey. If you have some family emergency, go handle it yourself and stop breathing down her neck.” The proprietary tone in his voice, the casual way he spoke as if Leona belonged to his family and not mine, made my stomach turn. I pointed a shaking finger at the front door. “Get out of my house. Now.” Frank let out a condescending laugh, then sat down heavily on our leather sofa, stretching his legs out. “I’m not going anywhere. If you want to leave, then leave. This is Leona’s apartment. You don’t have the right to tell me what to do.” The notification for my rideshare flashed on my phone. I didn’t waste another second looking at him. I turned and ran into the storm. At the hospital, I found my dad sitting on a gurney. He had fainted from panic, and when he fell, he had cut his forehead. When he saw me walk through the sliding doors, he immediately hung his head, looking like a little boy who had broken a vase. There was dried, dark blood flaking near his hairline. He looked so small, so devastatingly fragile in that bright, sterile room. My eyes burned. I walked over and took his rough, calloused hand in mine. “We’re going home, Dad.” “No, no,” he said, his voice quiet as he tried to pull his hand back. “You go on home. I can just stay here in the waiting room tonight. It’s fine.” He tried to smile, his fingers twitching in my grasp. “Don’t worry about me, Dan. I’m a grown man. I can take care of—” He stopped mid-sentence. His eyes widened, and his face crumbled with worry. “Oh, kiddo… please don’t cry. Don’t cry.” But I couldn’t stop the tears. They ran hot and fast down my face, dripping onto his hand. My dad stared at me, helpless and heartbroken. Finally, he let out a long, defeated sigh. “Okay. I’ll come back with you.” In the back of the cab, he held my hand so tightly his knuckles turned white, as if he were being marched into a lion’s den. When we reached the front door of the apartment, I gently brushed a stray lock of gray hair from his forehead. “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “Just stay right beside me.” I pushed the door open. Corey was already there, sitting on the sofa. The three of them—Leona, Corey, and Frank—were laughing, sharing some inside joke. The moment they saw us, the laughter died instantly. The room went dead silent. Leona blinked, her brow furrowing into a deep, immediate frown. “Why is your dad back?” She didn’t see the dried blood on his forehead. She didn’t see his damp, dirty coat. Her very first instinct was to ask why he was back. My dad shrank back slightly, his dry, chapped lips parting as if to apologize. I didn’t give him the chance. “This is his home too,” I said, my voice cold and steady. “He’s staying the night.” Under the heavy, suffocating weight of their stares, I led my father down the hallway and into the guest room. “Wait a minute.” Leona followed us, slamming the guest room door shut behind her. Her face was tight with anger. “You can’t just bring people over without letting me know first, Dan.” “Did you let me know before you brought your people here?” She gasped slightly, her eyes widening. “That is completely different!” I shook my head. “You’re right. It is different. One is my father. The others are strangers.” The words fell like lead weights into the room. Outside the door, the apartment went utterly silent. I could feel my dad trembling beside me, practically on the verge of tears. I squeezed his hand, trying to ground him. Suddenly, the door clicked open. Corey stood there, his eyes rimmed with red, looking incredibly fragile. “Dan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you two. I’ll leave. I’ll pack my things right now.” But Leona was faster. She grabbed Corey’s wrist, holding him back, before turning a furious glare on me. “Dan, stop being so childish!” I just stared at her. I watched her stand in my home, protecting another man, using me as a scapegoat to keep him comfortable. Seven years of marriage, and in that single, quiet moment, I realized it was over. The marriage was entirely, irreparably empty. Without saying another word, I pulled my father into the room and closed the door, turning the lock. When the latch clicked, I felt a warm tear fall onto the back of my hand. My dad was crying silently, his face pale with guilt. “It’s my fault,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I ruined everything. I made you two fight.” My dad had raised me all on his own, working twelve-hour shifts in a factory just to put food on our table. And now, in his old age, he had to suffer this kind of humiliation because of me. I wrapped my arms around his shaking shoulders, a deep, bitter wave of self-loathing washing over me because I hadn’t protected him. “Tomorrow, when I leave, you talk to Leona,” my dad murmured into my shoulder. “Couples shouldn’t sleep angry. You’ll make it right.” But he didn’t understand. There was nothing left to make right. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was an email from my divorce attorney, attaching the drafted settlement agreement and asking if I wanted to make any revisions. I didn’t open it. I just wanted to focus on my dad. I found him a pair of clean pajamas. “Go take a warm shower, Dad. And make sure you lock the bathroom door.” He nodded quietly and walked down the hall. I went to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. As I walked past the master bedroom, I heard muffled laughter coming from inside—both male and female. My stomach dropped. I reached out and tried the doorknob. It was locked. The laughter stopped instantly. There was a sudden, frantic rustling sound from inside. A few moments later, the lock clicked, and Leona opened the door. Corey was standing just behind her. His face was flushed, his collar slightly askew, and his eyes had a bright, heavy look to them. “Hey, Dan,” Corey said, his voice soft, almost timid, though his eyes never left mine. He was watching me, waiting to see my reaction. “I didn’t have any clean clothes left, so I was just trying on one of your shirts to see if it fit.” I didn’t understand. Why did he need to try on my clothes in our bedroom? Why did the door need to be locked? It was a flimsy excuse, wrapped in a thin layer of provocation. Leona cleared her throat, not looking me in the eye, and told Corey to go get some rest. Once he was gone, Leona pulled me into the bedroom and closed the door. She picked up her phone, acting as if nothing had happened, and held it out to me. “Here, Dan. I bought your dad’s return ticket. Does this time work?” I looked at the screen. 7:30 AM. She truly couldn’t stand the thought of him being in her space for a single extra minute. I didn’t take the phone. I just looked at her. “Who said he’s leaving tomorrow?” Leona’s face tightened, a look of pure, cold resentment washing over her features. It was a look I knew intimately. For seven years, every time my father visited, that same look of disgust would creep into the corners of her eyes. I used to tell myself she just wasn’t used to sharing space with older people. But now, the truth was glaringly obvious. She looked down on him. She despised him because he was a retired blue-collar worker from a small town, and because he wasn’t Corey’s father. “Dan, there are already too many people living in this apartment,” she said, her voice dripping with irritation. I nodded slowly. “Then tell Corey’s father to move out.” “That’s different,” Leona snapped immediately, looking at me as if I were a petulant child. “They are our guests.” They were honored guests. My father was an eyesore. In that moment, a strange sense of relief washed over me. I was so incredibly glad we had never succeeded in having a child. It made what I had to do so much simpler. “Fine,” Leona muttered, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Let him stay as long as he wants. I don’t care anymore.” She slammed the door and walked out. When I went back to the living room, my dad had finished his shower. I sat him down on the sofa and went into the kitchen to start dinner. But the moment I turned my back, I heard Frank’s voice boom from the living room. “Hey! Get up. I bought that orthopedic cushion. Go sit somewhere else.” I heard my dad scramble to his feet, his voice small and apologetic. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” But Frank didn’t let it go. His voice grew sharper, louder. “If you don’t know, then ask! Honestly, where are your manners?” My dad went stiff, his head bowing under the weight of the scolding. He looked toward Leona, hoping for some kind of intervention, but she just kept her head down, staring at her phone as if she were completely deaf. My chest tightened. I turned off the stove exhaust fan. Frank’s voice carried clearly into the kitchen now, dripping with venom as he continued to berate my father. “First you show up uninvited, and then you refuse to leave. I’ve never seen anyone so shameless. At your age, don’t you have any dignity?” Something inside my brain snapped. I walked out of the kitchen. My dad was standing frozen by the sofa, looking completely hollowed out, as if he had dissociated from his own body to escape the shame. But Frank wouldn’t stop. “You should pack up and leave tomorrow. You’re just a farmer anyway, don’t you have crops to harvest? I mean, honestly, a man your age behaving like a parasite—” Before he could finish the sentence, I stepped forward and slapped him across the face. The crack of my hand against his cheek echoed through the room. “Dan!” Leona, who had been completely oblivious a second ago, flew off the couch and shoved me backward. “How could you hit him!” Corey ran over, throwing his arms around his father, sobbing loudly. “Dad! Oh my god, Dad! They’re treating us like animals. Let’s go, we can’t stay here!” Frank started wailing, clutching his cheek. “At my age, to be struck in the face like a dog… I don’t want to live anymore!” He lunged toward the dining table, grabbing a silver fruit knife. My dad, terrified that Frank was going to hurt me, immediately threw his frail body in front of mine. His lips were trembling with fear, but he didn’t move an inch. Leona panicked, rushing forward to wrench the knife from Frank’s hand. When she turned back to me, her eyes were burning with a hatred I had never seen before. “Dan, apologize to him. Now.” I didn’t even look at her. I gently took my dad by the arm and led him back into the guest room, closing the door behind him. When I stepped back into the living room, Leona grabbed my wrist, squeezing so hard her knuckles turned white. “I said, apologize!” Behind her, Corey was watching me over his father’s shoulder. The crying had stopped; there was a small, triumphant smirk on his lips. It made my stomach turn. A cold, heavy anger settled deep into my bones. I looked Leona dead in the eyes. “I am not apologizing. And both of them are going to pack their bags and get the hell out of my home.” Leona stepped in front of them, her voice dropping to a dangerous, icy whisper. “Think very carefully about what you’re saying, Dan. If they leave, I leave too.” She looked at me with absolute certainty. In seven years of marriage, we had barely fought, and every time we did, I was always the one to crawl back, begging for forgiveness. I had fallen in love with her first, pursued her for a year, and everyone in our social circle knew I worshipped the ground she walked on. She was entirely confident that she held all the power. “Then go,” I said. Her face froze. She stared at me, her mouth parting slightly in sheer disbelief. When she realized I wasn’t bluffing, a mask of cold fury settled over her face. She packed a small bag, grabbed Frank and Corey, and stormed out, slamming the heavy front door so hard the walls vibrated. For the first time in years, I felt like I could finally breathe. Over the next week, Leona didn’t come home. Instead, she posted photos on her social media accounts—showing Corey and Frank around Boston, taking them to expensive restaurants. She knew I would see them. It was a calculated move, a gamble. She was waiting for me to break, to call her and beg for her to come home. But I spent those days packing. My dad didn’t ask any questions this time. He didn’t try to convince me to make up with her. He just silently helped me wrap my dishes in newspaper and pack my books into cardboard boxes. When we were done, I called a moving service to transport everything to a small condo I had purchased before we got married. My car was finally back from the mechanic. On the day we left, the sky was a clear, brilliant blue. I laid the printed divorce agreement on the dining table, walked out, and closed the door on that life forever.

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To save myself a lot of trouble, I always made up a wife. One afternoon, while out shopping with a coworker, I spotted a jacket I absolutely fell in love with. The only problem was the price tag—it was a bit steep. As the sales clerk kept up her relentless pitch, I casually brushed her off. “Ah, never mind. My wife would kill me. Even if I bought it, she’d just make me return it.” I didn’t think much of it. But the very next day, a package arrived at the office. I ripped it open, and there it was—the exact jacket! My coworker’s eyes went wide. He grabbed the card tucked inside and read it aloud: “To my wonderful husband: If you love it, you should have it. You deserve the best of everything. Signed—Your loving wife!” I froze. My wife was completely made up. I had never even been in a relationship. Where the hell did a wife come from? 1 I figured Brandon was just playing a joke on me, making up the words as he read. I snatched the card from his hand. But the elegant, flowing script on the card was undeniable. There it was, written in black and white. “Damn, Zach. And here I thought you were just complaining all this time,” Brandon teased, nudging me. “Saying your wife doesn’t let you do this, doesn’t let you do that. Turns out she’s incredibly generous. Five grand, just like that!” A few other coworkers started crowding around my desk. “I had no idea your wife was so loaded, Zach!” I forced a tight, artificial smile, my throat completely dry. I couldn’t squeeze out a single word. I’d been at the firm for three months, and my status as a happily married man was rock-solid. Whenever there was a task I didn’t want to do or an after-work gathering I wanted to skip, I’d blame it on my “wife.” Oh, she’s cooking tonight. Oh, she prefers I stay in. It was the perfect shield. But the truth was, I was single. I had been single my entire life. I’d never even held a girl’s hand. So where did this wife come from? I snuck a glance at the label. Even the size was a perfect fit. Who sent this? For a brief, vain moment, I wondered if I had a secret admirer. But I had only seen the jacket when I was shopping with Brandon. He was the only one who knew about it. I quietly watched Brandon’s face. Nothing. He looked genuinely amused, completely devoid of guilt. I spent the rest of the day in a daze, unable to focus. Once I got home, I immediately called the store’s customer service. It was a high-ticket item, so they had to have some record of the buyer. But after a few seconds of keyboard clattering, the representative said, “I’m sorry, sir. This order was placed anonymously. The customer requested full privacy protection, so we don’t have access to their billing details.” Anonymous? Why so mysterious? I stared at the jacket for a long time before shoving it into the deepest, darkest corner of my closet. The next morning, Brandon stopped by my desk. “Hey, Zach, why aren’t you wearing the new threads? I was dying to see what a five-thousand-dollar jacket looks like on a regular Tuesday!” I laughed it off. “Wearing something that expensive to sit in a cubicle? Feels like a waste.” In truth, I was terrified to wear something when I didn’t know where it came from. Brandon dropped it, but before I could ease into my workflow, the receptionist paged me. “Zach, there’s a package for you at the front desk.” My stomach did a cold flip. I had a terrible feeling about this. Sure enough, I opened the box to find a luxury cologne set. And tucked inside was that same card: Your loving wife. Brandon, who had followed me, gasped. “Isn’t this that new limited-edition release? We were just talking about this last week! You said you loved almost every scent in the collection.” He was right. And I vividly remembered saying: “I’d love to buy the whole set, but my wife would have a fit. She already thinks I have too many bottles cluttering the bathroom.” Brandon shook his head in mock jealousy. “She wouldn’t let you buy it, huh? So she just goes ahead and buys the whole collection for you instead. Man, Zach, what kind of angel did you marry?” An angel. Right. An angel so celestial she didn’t even exist. What was happening to me? Was it really a secret admirer? If so, why not just ask me out? Why play this bizarre game, sending expensive gifts and calling herself my wife? My mind was a chaotic mess as I stuffed the cologne set into my bottom drawer. Brandon frowned, noticing my distress. “Hey, you okay? You don’t look happy at all. Did you and the wife have a fight?” I offered a weak, noncommittal smile. Taking my silence as confirmation, Brandon sighed. “Ah, that explains the gifts. Well, don’t stay mad at her too long. A wife that generous deserves a quick apology.” I said nothing. Instead, I copied the tracking number from the shipping label, found the online merchant, and messaged their support team. The response was exactly the same: Hi there! This order was processed anonymously under our high-profile privacy tier. We cannot disclose customer information. Can you even do that with standard online shopping? As I sat there, trying to make sense of it all, the receptionist’s voice cut through the office intercom again. “Zach, you’ve got a delivery. And… you’re going to need help carrying this.” 2 Flowers? I stood up, numb, and walked toward the lobby. A local courier was standing there, holding an enormous, breathtaking arrangement of deep red roses and orchids. It must have taken up half the counter. “Zachary?” the courier asked. “Your wife sent these.” I stood frozen. By the time I snapped out of it, the courier was already halfway out the door. I ran after him, catching him near the elevators. “Wait! Excuse me. Can you tell me who placed this order?” The courier gave me a strange look. “Your wife.” I shook my head, my chest tightening. “No, I mean, can I see the account name on the order? On your app?” The guy looked confused but shrugged and pulled out his phone, scrolling to his job history. As expected, the sender’s profile was completely blank—no name, no picture, just a system-generated ID. “Look, man, whoever she is, she paid three hundred bucks for the arrangement and left me a hundred-dollar tip,” the courier said, his grin reaching his eyes. “Your wife is amazing. You’re a lucky guy.” I handed his phone back, my fingers stiff. I managed to force a polite nod. Back in the office, my coworkers immediately swarmed my desk. “Are those roses? That looks like a fortune!” “That’s nothing. His wife didn’t even blink at a five-thousand-dollar jacket yesterday!” “Look, there’s a card. What does it say?” My eyes fell on the small envelope nestled among the petals. I slid the card out. Sweetheart, please don’t be mad at me anymore. My hand shook so violently I almost dropped the card. “Seriously, Zach, how could you ever stay mad at her?” one of the account executives joked. “I’m literally crying. Why can’t I find someone like that?” “Just forgive her already!” Their teasing voices faded into a dull hum. I kept my eyes fixed on Brandon. The jacket. The cologne. Only Brandon knew about those conversations. And now, right after I let him believe my “wife” and I were in a fight, a massive bouquet of apology flowers shows up. Was this some elaborate prank? Had he figured out that I was lying about being married, and decided to spend a fortune to mess with me? But Brandon was a junior designer. He didn’t have thousands of dollars to throw away on a joke. Nothing made sense. With my head spinning, I decided I needed some grounding. After work, I drove over to my Nana’s place. Nana’s small, cozy apartment always smelled of vanilla and baked chicken. She had prepared a massive feast for me, and as we sat down, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, letting the warmth of her home wash over me. But then I noticed her ears. “Nana, where is your hearing aid?” Nana, whose hearing had been failing for years, squinted at me. It took her a moment to register my words. “Oh, that silly thing!” she chuckled, waving her hand dismissively. “It fell right into the pond yesterday while I was out by the park. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I can hear you just fine!” How could it not matter? I immediately pulled out my phone and started researching the best medical-grade hearing aids on the market. “Just get me a cheap one from the drugstore, Zach. Don’t go wasting your hard-earned money,” Nana insisted, patting my knee. I stayed the night on her pull-out sofa. The next morning, a sharp knock on the front door woke me. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stumbled into the hallway. Nana had already opened the door. A delivery driver stood on the porch. “Delivery for Zachary,” the driver said. Nana stared at the small package, her face lighting up. “Oh, Zach! When did you order this? That was incredibly fast!” I froze, the sleep instantly draining from my brain. I rushed to the door. The package in the driver’s hand was from a premium audiology brand. But I hadn’t placed the order yet. I had only put it in my online cart the night before. A cold shiver ran down my spine, raising the hairs on my arms. 3 “Sir? Need a signature here,” the delivery driver prompted. Nana reached out to take the stylus, but I quickly stepped in. “Actually, I think there’s been a mistake. I ordered the wrong model. I need to reject the delivery, please.” This was for my grandmother. I couldn’t risk her using something from a stranger. Who knew what was actually in that box? As the driver took the package back, my eyes caught a small, familiar card taped to the side. Only the best for Nana. —Your loving wife. My hand trembled so hard I had to shove it into my pocket. After sending the driver away, I called into work to take the morning off. I drove Nana to a local clinic, got her fitted for a proper hearing aid, and paid for it myself. Before I left, I held her hands tightly. “Nana, if you get any packages over the next few weeks, do not open them. Call me immediately. Promise me.” Though confused, Nana nodded and promised she would. When I finally got to the office that afternoon, I was a nervous wreck. Who was this person? How did they know my grandmother’s address? And more importantly… I had only searched for those hearing aids on my phone the night before. I hadn’t spoken a word about it to anyone else. How could a package arrive first thing in the morning? There was only one logical explanation. I stared down at the screen of my phone. Someone had hacked my device. They were monitoring my searches, my location, my life. It had to be. Determined to reclaim my sanity, I went straight to an electronics store after work. I bought a brand-new phone, factory-reset my old one, and sold it to a trade-in kiosk. It was a massive hit to my savings, but as the days passed and no new packages arrived, I finally felt like I could breathe again. My relief lasted for about a week. Then, on a rainy Thursday night, I had a dream. In the dream, a woman I had never seen before stood in front of me. Her eyes were filled with a profound, aching sadness. “Sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You won’t wear the jacket. You won’t use the cologne. You even sent back the hearing aid I got for Nana. “Do you hate me now? Or do you just not want my gifts? “It’s your birthday. Let me just give you money instead. That way, you can buy whatever you want.” I bolted upright in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs, drenched in cold sweat. I checked my phone. It was past midnight. Today was, indeed, my birthday. But what a bizarre, deeply unsettling nightmare. When my alarm finally went off, I shook my head, trying to banish the memory of her sad eyes, and got ready for work. At my desk, I was nursing a coffee and chewing on a bagel, trying to focus on a design pitch, when my phone buzzed. It was a notification from my banking app. I tapped it open. My jaw dropped. One… ten… a hundred… a thousand… ten thousand… a hundred thousand… One million dollars. A cool million had just been deposited into my checking account. I thought it was a glitch, some cruel banking error, but when I refreshed the page, the balance remained the same. And there was a transaction memo: Happy birthday, sweetheart. The room seemed to tilt. Let me just give you money instead. That way, you can buy whatever you want. The words from my dream echoed in my ears. I sat frozen in my chair, my entire understanding of reality crumbling. “Zach? You okay?” Brandon tapped my shoulder, noticing my blank stare. I quickly flipped my phone face down. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Dear God, what was happening to me? Where did a million dollars come from? Was it possible that I actually had a wife, and I had somehow… forgotten her? “Hey, I saw your calendar,” Brandon said, leaning against my cubicle wall. “It’s your birthday today. What are the plans?” I slowly picked up my phone and stared at the balance again. I had never used any of the physical gifts. But was this real? Could I actually spend this money? I took a deep breath. “Hey, everyone,” I called out to the office. “It’s my birthday. Dinner and drinks are on me tonight.” The office erupted into cheers. “Wait, Zach,” one of the designers asked. “Aren’t you celebrating with your wife?” “She’s… out of town on business,” I lied smoothly. I sent a group text with the address of a high-end steakhouse downtown. Brandon’s eyes went wide when he saw the venue. “Whoa, Zach. We’re going there? Are you sure you can afford that place?” I smiled, keeping my terror hidden. “Don’t worry about it.” But as we left, a cold knot of dread tightened in my stomach. What if the card got declined? 4 It didn’t. My worries were entirely unfounded. When the bill came—totaling over fifteen thousand dollars after bottles of high-end wine—I slid my card over without a flinch. The transaction went through instantly. My coworkers stared at me in absolute shock. “Zach, what does your wife actually do for a living?” “Seriously, man, you’ve been holding out on us. We had no idea you were loaded.” “Alright, alright, let’s let the birthday boy make a wish!” Brandon had ordered a chocolate cake, and someone placed a paper crown on my head. As the candles flickered, I closed my eyes. Given the sheer absurdity of the past few weeks, a wild, ridiculous thought popped into my head. What if I had somehow developed a superpower? What if whatever I wished for simply materialized? Let’s test the limits, I thought. I breathed in and made a silent wish: I want to be rich. Unbelievably, ridiculously rich. I opened my eyes and blew out the candles. Later that night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone vibrated with a text alert. I sat up, my heart hammering, and opened the message. It was another bank notification. The number was so long I had to count the digits twice. One hundred million dollars. My breathing turned shallow. I got out of bed and started pacing the room, convinced I was losing my mind. Did I really have a wish-granting superpower? But that defied every law of physics and science. And as the initial rush of adrenaline faded, panic took its place. A sudden influx of a hundred million dollars would undoubtedly trigger red flags with the IRS, the FBI, or homeland security. And if it wasn’t the government, what if some dangerous criminal syndicate was using my account to launder money? As much as I loved the idea of being wealthy, this money felt like a gilded ticking time bomb. I decided right then: tomorrow morning, I was going to the police. If they could trace the source of the funds, great. If not, at least I’d have a paper trail showing I tried to report it. Yes. That was the smart thing to do. I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves and crawled back into bed. I grabbed my phone to set my alarm, but my finger slipped, opening my photo gallery. I froze. There, at the very top of my camera roll, were several photos I had never seen before. They were pictures of me… standing next to a woman. She was smiling warmly, her arm wrapped around my waist. And her face was identical to the woman from my dream. Terrified, I scrambled out of bed and flipped on the lights. My apartment felt suddenly cold, haunted. I had absolutely no memory of these photos. I had never met this woman in my life. Could they be AI-generated? But I had just bought this phone. How could anyone have put them there? I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I kept every light in the apartment burning until dawn, and the second the sun broke over the horizon, I hailed a cab straight to the police station. “Morning. Can I help you with something?” The desk sergeant looked at me with immediate concern. I must have looked like a ghost, pale and disheveled. He poured me a cup of water. I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper. “Officer… someone is putting photos of a strange woman on my phone. And… I keep receiving massive sums of money from an untraceable source.” The officer frowned. “How massive?” “A million dollars yesterday. And last night… one hundred million.” “One hundred million?!” He practically choked on his coffee, his voice echoing in the quiet lobby. “Officer Nightingale, what’s all the shouting about?” another detective called out from across the room. But I didn’t hear him. Officer Nightingale. Nightingale. That surname… I slowly raised my head and stared at her face, her badge. Suddenly, a violent spark flared in my brain. I remembered. I knew exactly what was happening. Along with the realization came a blinding, agonizing headache. My vision blurred, the room began to spin, and before I could say another word, the world went completely black.

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