Category: English

Ever since the Kensingtons’ biological daughter returned to the estate, she made it her mission to orchestrate my downfall. First, it was the jewelry her parents bought her—mysteriously lost, then miraculously discovered in my bedroom. Then, it was the severe allergic reaction to the luxury skincare I had given her. She would stand there, her face inflamed, whispering that she had no intention of stealing my boyfriends, begging me to stop trying to ruin her face. And finally, it culminated in this: she deliberately sliced her own arm with a letter opener, sank to her knees, pale and trembling, and accused me of trying to kill her. She demanded that our parents make a choice. Only one daughter could stay. I was exhausted by the relentless, chaotic noise of it all. If my adoptive parents were too paralyzed by optics to handle this toxic girl, then fine. I would simply get new parents. After all, the mayor of my biological family’s hometown had already promised that the second I came home, they would commission a bronze plaque in the town square just for me. 1 “Mom, Dad, why are you always taking her side? I’m your actual flesh and blood!” Mia clutched the bleeding cut on her forearm, her face a mask of absolute tragedy. The accusation in her eyes was heavy, suffocating. Richard and Caroline Kensington stared at the blood seeping through Mia’s fingers. Deep creases formed between my adoptive parents’ brows, but their lips remained pressed in a tight, helpless line. I was the one who finally broke the silence. I calmly bent down, picked up the silver letter opener from the Persian rug, and held it out to her. Mia instantly scrambled backward, her eyes widening in manufactured terror. “Blair, what are you doing?! Are you trying to stab me again? Do you think just because Mom and Dad favor you, you can get away with murder?” I looked at her the way one might look at a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe. “Obviously,” I said, a slow, provocative smile spreading across my face. “If they didn’t favor the daughter they actually raised, why would they favor a latecomer like you?” The hatred in Mia’s eyes darkened, turning venomous. I just smiled. Go ahead and hate me, I thought. There was a distinct, sharp pleasure in watching her seethe—despising me, yet entirely powerless to defeat me. Mia had hated me from the moment she discovered she was the true Kensington heiress. She had taken a Greyhound bus straight to our gated driveway in Connecticut, demanded a DNA test, and shattered the reality I had known for eighteen years. It happened on the exact same day I had brought home the first-place trophy for the National Math Olympiad. Richard and Caroline had initially dismissed her as a con artist. It took police intervention for them to finally agree to the test. The results confirmed it. She was the real Kensington. I, of course, was the imposter. But they didn’t send me away. The investigation revealed it was a hospital clerical error—a exhausted nurse, two swapped bassinets in the dead of night. No malice, no kidnapping. I was innocent. More importantly, I was exceptional. I was the masterpiece Richard and Caroline had meticulously curated for eighteen years. I was their pride, their flawless investment. They were entirely unwilling to give me up. Especially not when I had just secured an early-admission full ride to MIT. If they sent me packing, my future glory would no longer belong to the Kensington name. From that moment on, Mia’s hatred for me solidified into an obsession. My parents, to their credit, were drowning in guilt. They felt they had failed Mia, horrified that they hadn’t even possessed the parental instinct to recognize their own child. In the beginning, they desperately tried to overcompensate. Their logic was simple: if a girl with absolutely no Kensington blood could be molded into a genius under their roof, then their actualbiological daughter would surely be extraordinary. But the longer they lived with Mia, the more they had to swallow a bitter pill. Mia possessed a certain cunning, a street-level manipulative streak, but absolutely no vision. Even her attempts to frame me were painfully amateurish. High society was already whispering about the return of the lost Kensington heiress. Expectations were sky-high. My parents were living in a constant state of low-grade panic, practically hiding Mia from the country club circuit. It was like holding a worthless, plunging stock while everyone around you congratulated you on a windfall; they couldn’t explain the truth without dying of embarrassment. So, they begged me to keep the peace. To tolerate her. To ensure no humiliating scandals leaked out of the estate. But my patience had officially expired. 2 Mia’s first attempt to frame me involved a custom gold Cartier Love bracelet. Caroline had taken her shopping and bought it as a welcome gift. Mia treated it like the Holy Grail. She had clearly never owned anything of real value before. Consequently, she made a point of casually dragging her wrist across my line of sight at every conceivable opportunity. She had noticed I rarely wore jewelry around the house, and in her mind, that equated to my parents neglecting me. When I completely ignored her glittering wrist, my message was clear: I don’t care about your jewelry, get out of my space. But Mia misread the room. She thought I was masking my crushing jealousy. She had no idea that I had an entire velvet-lined vault of similar pieces—birthday and Christmas gifts accumulated over eighteen years from my parents and grandparents. So, when she rushed down the mahogany staircase the next morning, sobbing that her bracelet had vanished, Richard and Caroline froze. “Mom, Dad,” Mia wept, her eyes shimmering with perfectly timed tears. “That bracelet was the first real gift you ever gave me. I—I can’t bear that it’s gone. Could you please help me find it?” My parents exchanged a grim look. I simply leaned against the marble kitchen island, crossing my arms, ready for the show. After they had torn through Mia’s bedroom and found nothing, she quietly suggested they search Marta’s quarters. Marta, our housekeeper, was visibly stunned. “Mr. and Mrs. Kensington,” she stammered, her hands trembling against her apron. “I have worked in this house for fifteen years. I practically raised Blair. I would never steal from this family!” Besides the sheer insult of the accusation, Marta wore a thick, solid gold bangle of her own on her wrist. My parents paid her an exorbitant salary, and her family had just sold a massive plot of real estate in Queens. She didn’t need to steal Mia’s trinket. I stepped up, my voice cutting through the tension like glass. “Mia, Marta wouldn’t touch your bracelet. You were practically shoving it in my face all day yesterday. I highly suggest you trace your own steps before you start accusing the people who keep this house running.” Mia’s lower lip quivered. “Blair, why are you so defensive? Is it because Mom and Dad bought me gold and didn’t buy you anything? I just want my bracelet back. It doesn’t mean they love me more than you. You really don’t need to be so insecure.” I stared at her. Insecure? Where on earth was she getting this script? Marta, refusing to let me take the heat, swallowed her pride. Though her face was tight with humiliation, she agreed to let Mia search her room. I rested a hand on Marta’s shoulder, my voice softening. “Don’t let it get to you, Marta. When summer break hits, I’m taking you on a vacation to Europe. Just you and me.” Marta let out a breathless, appreciative laugh. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Mia’s jaw clenched. She had likely never heard of an employer taking a housekeeper on a luxury vacation. But in our world, loyalty was rewarded. Predictably, Mia found nothing in Marta’s quarters. But she accomplished one thing: Marta would never look at her with an ounce of warmth again. “Did you find what you were looking for, miss?” Marta asked, her voice entirely devoid of emotion. Mia rubbed her red eyes. “I guess it isn’t in here…” “Apologize to Marta,” Richard ordered, his voice echoing like a whip crack down the hallway. Mia bit her lip, looking at my father as if he had just slapped her. Marta, despising Mia but refusing to let my father lose face, started to wave it off. Before she could, I spoke up. “Marta, on behalf of my little sister, I apologize. When we go abroad, you can pick out whatever you want. My treat.” Marta smiled warmly. “You’re too good to me, Blair.” Mia looked like she was choking on ash. Her entire goal had been to assert dominance, to remind Marta who the realblood of the house was. But Marta gave me everything she possessed, and gave Mia nothing. In Mia’s mind, because she was the biological daughter, the staff should instinctively bow to her. She just couldn’t comprehend why the world wasn’t rearranging itself to fit her narrative. “Blair, why do you constantly undermine me?” Mia asked later, catching me in the hall. “I just wanted to check her room. You didn’t need to buy her affection just to humiliate me. I know Marta favors you, and she hates me. But like I said, I’m just here to join the family. I never wanted to steal Mom and Dad’s love from you. Why don’t you just give the bracelet back?” I blinked. Oh. So that was the endgame. Smear the housekeeper, and when that failed, pivot the accusation to me. I almost admired the sheer audacity of it. I couldn’t wait to see how she planned to pull this off. 3 Marta had been present for Mia’s accusation. She immediately turned to my parents, appalled. “Mr. Kensington, Mrs. Kensington, I swear to you, I treat both girls exactly the same! The only difference in this house is that Mrs. Kensington designed a highly specific, nutrient-dense meal plan for Blair to support her late-night studying. Those supplements aren’t suited for Mia’s dietary needs, so I cook for them separately. That is all!” Caroline closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. “Marta is right. That was my doing. Marta treats you both fairly. Mia, please stop this nonsense. I’ll have a nutritionist draft a new menu for you tomorrow.” I raised an eyebrow. Given Mia’s absolute reliance on processed junk food and heavy meats, a Kensington-approved organic nutritional plan was going to be her own personal hell. A tear slipped down Mia’s cheek, splashing onto the floor. “Mom, I know you don’t believe me. Marta wouldn’t know any better, maybe she just doesn’t know Blair’s true character. Blair, I know you stared at my bracelet all day. It means the world to me. Please, just give it back.” I let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “It might mean the world to you, but it’s utterly useless to me. What would I even do with it?” My private academy strictly prohibited flashy jewelry. All my pieces were locked in the velvet display cases in my walk-in. Mia’s crying escalated into a theatrical, breathless sob. Out of everything she had brought into this house, her weeping was what I despised most. She cried as if the universe owed her a cosmic debt. “Blair, please! Just let me look in your room. Mom, Dad, I’m begging you. That bracelet is everything to me.” But this time, Richard didn’t indulge her. “It is a piece of metal, Mia,” he snapped, his voice hard. “Your mother will take you to Fifth Avenue tomorrow and buy you two more. The Kensingtons do not tear each other apart over pocket change.” But Mia was relentless. “Dad, to you it’s just money. To me, it’s a symbol of your love! I can’t just replace it. And I don’t want to waste your money when I haven’t earned it. Please, let me check. If it’s not in Blair’s room, I will get on my knees and apologize, and I’ll never bring it up again.” Richard’s frown deepened. He had raised me. He knew the architecture of my character. Furthermore, he deeply despised people who fixated on trivial amounts of money. To him, Mia’s hyper-fixation on a single bracelet was aggressively lower-class. I stood off to the side, enjoying the theater. I wanted to see how far she would push it. She turned her tear-streaked face to me. “Blair, I know Mom and Dad adore you. You shouldn’t disappoint them like this. Or… are you refusing to let me search because the bracelet is already in there?” I almost laughed out loud. “What are you afraid of, Blair? Why won’t you let me look? Are you guilty?” Mia pushed, stepping closer. I let a lazy smile touch my lips. I was one hundred percent certain she had already planted the bracelet in my room. “Fine,” I said smoothly. “Mom, Dad, since she’s so desperate to see my room, let her.” I pushed open my bedroom door and gestured inside, playing the gracious host. My parents looked sick with stress, but Mia was entirely oblivious. She had been dying to get inside my bedroom since she arrived. The moment she had moved in, she had demanded the primary suite, but my parents had firmly placed her in a guest wing. She stepped inside, her eyes darting over the silk drapes and original artwork. Then, she spotted the discreet paneled door leading to my walk-in closet. She pushed it open, and I watched the color drain completely from her face. The closet was practically a boutique. Rows of current-season designer garments, handbags that cost more than a luxury car, and an illuminated glass display island in the center. Every single item in that room could have bought her precious bracelet ten times over. And as for the bracelet itself? She stared through the glass case and saw an identical Cartier Love bracelet resting on a velvet pillow. Except, she knew the one she had planted was hidden somewhere else entirely.

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The condo my uncle bought for me sixteen years ago is now worth $1.2 million. When he called out of the blue saying he desperately needed $450,000 to keep his head above water, my heart sank. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help—it was the sheer scale of the number. It was a life-altering amount of money. I was still processing the shock when my husband, Scott, cut in. He didn’t even wait for me to move the phone away from my ear. “Your uncle gave you that place as a gift, right? He didn’t say anything about wanting a return on investment back then?” I nodded dumbly, my hand trembling against the receiver. Scott let out a sharp, cold laugh. “Then what right does he have to come begging now? He gave it to you. Period. Now that the market’s peaked and the property is worth a fortune, he wants to crawl back and leach off your equity? He’s dreaming.” I froze. My entire body went rigid. On the other end of the line, the silence was absolute. My uncle had heard everything. That silence traveled through the airwaves like a localized frost, settling deep in my bones. It felt like a serrated blade pressing against my eardrum. Every second that passed felt like a slow burn, a suffocating heat I couldn’t escape. I could almost see him—my kind, unassuming Uncle Pete—his face turning ashen, his pride crumbling into dust in some cramped kitchen miles away. “Uncle Pete…” I started, my voice thick. … My throat felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton. Each word was a struggle. Click. The line went dead. It wasn’t a violent hang-up, the kind fueled by rage. It was the sound of a man whose spirit had simply snapped, his fingers sliding off the phone in total exhaustion. I stayed there for a moment, my hand still suspended in mid-air, staring at the screen as it faded to black. The recessed lighting in our living room was designer-perfect, bright and warm, yet I had never felt colder. Scott, the man I’d shared a bed with for five years, was lounging on the West Elm sectional opposite me. There wasn’t a flicker of guilt on his face. Instead, he looked smug, almost triumphant. “See? He hung up the second I called him on it. Guilty conscience,” Scott said. He picked up a Honeycrisp apple from the marble coffee table and took a loud, wet bite. The crunch echoed through the room like a gunshot. “I’m doing this for your own good, Nora,” he continued, pointing the half-eaten apple at me. “You’re too soft. You let people pull at your heartstrings. These kinds of relatives—the ones who stayed in the sticks—they see you doing well, see the property values in the city, and they decide it’s harvest season. Today he wants half a million. Tomorrow it’ll be more. It’s a sinkhole, and I’m not letting us fall into it.” Every word he spoke felt like a precision strike, a poisoned needle aimed at the softest parts of my soul. I looked at him—at the sharp jawline and the confident eyes I used to find so handsome, so reliable—and felt like I was looking at a stranger. Or worse, a monster I’d invited into my house. “Scott, that is my uncle,” I said, my voice vibrating with a fury I didn’t know I possessed. “When my parents died, every other relative treated me like a biohazard. Pete was the one who liquidated everything he had to buy me this condo. He gave me a roof over my head when the world was trying to swallow me whole. You can’t put a price tag on that kind of debt.” Scott scoffed, tossing the apple core into the trash with a careless flick of his wrist. “Debt? You can’t eat ‘debt,’ Nora. Wake up. We live in the real world, not some sentimental Hallmark movie. What did he pay for this place back then? A couple hundred grand? Now it’s $1.2 million! He’s trying to turn a twenty-year-old ‘favor’ into a massive cash exit at our expense.” I saw the greed dancing in his eyes. The way he said the number—1.2 million—it sounded hungry. “Our expense?” I caught the word, a chill crawling up my spine. “Scott, this condo is a pre-marital asset. It’s mine.” His expression darkened instantly. The smugness vanished, replaced by a cold, predatory hardness. “What is that supposed to mean, Nora? We’re married. What’s yours is ours. I’ve busted my ass for this family for five years. Don’t tell me that doesn’t count for anything.” He started his usual litany of “contributions.” The long hours at the firm, the holidays spent with my family, the way he’d been a “rock.” He painted himself as a martyr of domesticity. It was a joke. A sick, twisted joke. We’d been married for five years, and I covered seventy percent of our expenses because my salary doubled his. His money was always “for his future business ventures” or “networking.” Meanwhile, I paid the property taxes, the HOA fees, and the grocery bills. And now, he was already spending the equity in my home. “Once we flip this place, we can move out to the suburbs. A real house. A yard. Maybe a pool,” he said, his voice returning to that breezy, delusional tone. “And I want to help my brother get his feet under him—he needs a down payment for a place in the city. The rest we can tuck away for the kids’ college funds. It’s a perfect plan.” He laid it out so logically, as if my uncle’s life-or-death crisis was nothing more than a convenient catalyst for his own lifestyle upgrade. The man I had loved for five years was gone. In his place sat a man for whom love, loyalty, and blood were all just variables in a spreadsheet. I didn’t want to argue anymore. You can’t reason with someone who views people as ATMs. I turned and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door. I needed to drown out the sound of his voice. I reached into the back of my nightstand and pulled out an old, battered photo album. The silk cover was frayed, the corners yellowed with age. On the very first page was a photo of me at sixteen. I was a ghost of a girl back then, rail-thin and hollow-eyed from the grief of losing my parents. In the photo, Uncle Pete has his arm around my shoulders. His hands were rough, calloused from years of manual labor, but his grip was steady. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were fixed on me with a fierce, protective love. The background was this very condo—back when the neighborhood was still gritty and the paint was fresh. I remember him pointing at the skyline and saying, “Nora, don’t be scared. This is your fortress. No one can ever take this from you.” A tear hit the plastic sleeve of the album, blurring his face. The bedroom door burst open. Scott walked in, smelling of bourbon and resentment. “I’m warning you, Nora. Do not call that man back,” he snapped. His face was flushed, his eyes narrowed. “And don’t you dare mention money. Not a cent. If I find out you’re funneling cash to him behind my back, we’re done. I mean it.” I looked at him, my vision clearing through the tears. “By what authority, Scott?” My coldness rattled him. He stepped closer, towering over me. “By the authority of being your husband! Everything you have, you have because of the life we built. You were a lonely orphan when I found you. If I hadn’t stepped up, God knows where you’d be drifting right now. Don’t act like you’re some self-made mogul. You’re part of the Miller family now, and I won’t let some deadbeat relative from your past bleed us dry!” It was like a physical blow. A slap across the face couldn’t have stung more. To him, I was still that “lonely orphan.” My only value was the rising market price of the walls around us. I started to laugh. It was a sharp, jagged sound that didn’t feel like it belonged to me. It was the sound of a woman watching her life crumble and realizing she didn’t mind the rubble. That night, sleep was impossible. I stared at the ceiling until the first grey light of dawn filtered through the blinds. I had made my choice. I was going to help my uncle. Even if it meant burning my world to the ground. The next morning, the doorbell rang with a frantic, aggressive rhythm. I checked the Ring camera. It was my mother-in-law, Peggy. The reinforcements had arrived. I opened the door, and Peggy practically shoved past me. “Oh, my poor boy! Scott, honey, you look terrible.” She grabbed Scott’s face, fretting over him as if he’d survived a war instead of a tantrum. Scott slumped into a chair, playing the role of the exhausted, wronged husband perfectly. Peggy turned her gaze on me. Her eyes were like two cold pebbles. “Nora, I heard the news. Your uncle is trying to shake you down for money?” “He’s in trouble, Peggy,” I said, my voice flat. “How much?” “Almost half a million.” Peggy gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “Half a million? Is he insane? He’s trying to bankrupt this family! He’s trying to rob my son!” “He’s my uncle,” I reminded her. “And it’s a loan. He’s in a corner.” Peggy sat on the edge of the sofa, her face twisting into a mask of faux-concern. “Nora, honey, you have to be smart. When people like that ask for money, it’s a black hole. You’ll never see it again. You’re a Miller now. You have to think about your family. Your husband. This condo… it might be in your name, but it’s a Miller asset now. It’s my son’s security.” The sheer audacity of her logic made my head spin. “Peggy,” I said, a smile twitching on my lips. “At what point did my house become Scott’s security?” She saw the opening and took it. Her tone shifted from “concerned mother” to “shrewd negotiator.” “Well, if you really want to protect the family—and prove you’re not just going to throw your life away on a whim—maybe it’s time to put Scott’s name on the deed. Make it official. A joint asset. That way, if your uncle comes calling again, you can just tell him it’s out of your hands. Legal protection, Nora. It’s for the best.” Finally. The mask was off. This was the real reason she was here. “No,” I said. One word. Absolute. Peggy’s face turned the color of a bruised plum. “You… you ungrateful girl! We took you in! We made you one of us!” Scott stood up then, stepping into my space again. “Nora, what are you doing? We’re a team. Why are you acting like we’re enemies? Are you already planning your exit? Is that why you’re guarding the deed like a hawk?” He was gaslighting me, painting me as the selfish one while he reached for my wallet. “A team?” I whispered, my voice trembling with rage. “My uncle is drowning, and you’re standing on his head to keep your own shoes dry. You don’t know the first thing about being a team.” Peggy jumped up, pointing a finger at my face. “Who cares about your uncle’s son? Why should my son suffer because your side of the family can’t manage their lives? We aren’t paying for their mistakes!” The words hit me like a lightning strike. I looked at them—this mother and son, so certain of their own righteousness, so devoid of basic human empathy. For the first time in five years, the word divorce didn’t feel like a tragedy. It felt like a rescue. This wasn’t my home. They weren’t my family. They were parasites waiting for the host to weaken. “Get out,” I said. They both froze. “What?” Scott asked, his eyes wide. “I said, get out of my house. Both of you.” Peggy lunged toward me, her face contorted. “You little bitch! You can’t talk to me like—” I stepped aside, catching her momentum and shoving her toward the door. I had spent years being the “quiet, grateful orphan.” That girl was dead. Scott tried to intervene, his voice rising in a mix of command and desperation. “Nora, you’ve lost your mind! You’re going to throw away your marriage for a ghost?” I didn’t answer. I just pushed. I pushed until they were both in the hallway, and then I slammed the heavy oak door. I turned the deadbolt. Click. The silence that followed was beautiful. I leaned my forehead against the cool wood of the door and let my body slide to the floor. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but my mind was clearer than it had been in years. This house was my fortress. And the siege was over. I sat there until my legs went numb. Once I stopped shaking, I did the only thing that mattered: I called my uncle back. It rang for a long time before my aunt answered. Her voice was raw from crying. “Nora?” “It’s me. Is Pete there?” A moment later, his gravelly voice came through. “Nora… honey. I’m so sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have called. I didn’t mean to cause a fight between you and Scott.” He was still protecting me. My heart broke all over again. “Uncle Pete, stop. Don’t apologize. Tell me what happened. Really.” He finally broke. My cousin, Toby, had been diagnosed with aggressive leukemia. He needed a bone marrow transplant, and even with insurance, the out-of-network costs, the travel, and the specialized post-op care were astronomical. $450,000 was the price of his life. “He’s only twenty-five, Nora,” Pete choked out. “The doctors say if we can get the funds, the success rate is high. But we don’t have it. We just don’t have it.” “You do now,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I’m going to get you the money. I promise. Just give me a few days.” After I hung up, I logged into our joint savings account to see what I could liquidate immediately. I stared at the screen. My stomach dropped. $4,217. We should have had nearly $200,000 in that account. My bonuses alone over the last three years had been six figures. I called Scott immediately. “Where is the money, Scott?” I didn’t say hello. I didn’t yell. “What are you talking about?” He sounded annoyed, but there was a tremor of guilt in his voice. “The joint account. It’s empty. Where is it?” “I… I had to help my brother with his business loan. And my parents’ roof needed replacing. We talked about this, Nora. We’re a family. It’s all one pot.” “We never talked about $190,000, Scott.” He hung up on me. The betrayal was complete. He had been draining me for years to subsidize his own family while sneering at mine. I didn’t cry this time. I opened my laptop and started searching for real estate agents. This condo—my history, my sanctuary—was going to save Toby. I think my parents would have wanted it that way. But Scott wasn’t going to make it easy. He moved back in that evening, acting as though nothing had happened, but he wasn’t alone. Peggy was with him. They became my jailers. If I went to the bathroom, Peggy stood in the hall. If I made tea, Scott was at my elbow. They took my passport. They took the physical deed from my desk. They took my car keys. “You aren’t selling this place, Nora,” Scott said, locking the documents in his personal safe. “You’re staying right here until you come to your senses.” I didn’t fight them. I didn’t scream. I just watched them. They thought they had won. They thought that without the physical papers, I was trapped. What they didn’t know was that I’d already filed for a replacement ID weeks ago after “losing” my wallet. It was tucked inside the lining of my gym bag. They didn’t know that I had digital copies of every property document stored in an encrypted cloud drive they couldn’t access. While Scott was at work and Peggy was napping, I met with an agent named Brenda. She was a shark in a Chanel suit, and she smelled blood. “Honey,” Brenda said after I told her everything. “I’ve seen it all. The missing deed is a hurdle, but with your ID and the original purchase contract—which I can pull from the county records—we can move. We’ll do an off-market pocket listing. Cash buyers only. We can close in ten days.” I signed the digital listing agreement in the back of Brenda’s Lexus while Peggy was upstairs watching The Price is Right. The counter-attack had begun.

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On the night of my birthday, my husband—who worked as a contractor for a highly classified defense intelligence agency—sent me a Zelle transfer for $5,000. [Baby, an emergency came up at the agency. I’m stuck working late. I am so sorry I can’t be there to celebrate with you.] The notification glowed on my screen. And in that exact moment, I was standing in the shadowed alcove of my own corporate building’s lobby, watching him walk through the revolving glass doors. His arm was wrapped tightly around his adopted sister. “This is the last time I’m giving in to you,” I heard him murmur, his voice echoing faintly against the marble walls. “Next year, no matter what, I’m spending her birthday with her.” Madison, his adopted sister, leaned into his side with a breathy, saccharine laugh, holding up a sleek, silver box of ultra-thin condoms. “Our very first time was in your company’s executive boardroom,” she whispered, tracing his jawline. “It’s only poetic that our last time happens in the exact same place.” My fingers tightened around my paper coffee cup until the cardboard buckled. The iced latte inside suddenly felt like battery acid in my veins. Pulling out my phone, I drafted an emergency email to my executive team, excluding only Madison, who officially worked in our marketing department. [Urgent: The client has moved up the contract signing. All department heads, meet in the main executive boardroom in twenty minutes.] If they wanted a thrill, I thought, my heart beating a slow, hollow rhythm against my ribs. If they wanted a show. I was about to give them a finale they would never, ever forget. … [Hey, Dave? Can you remotely access the dome camera in the main executive boardroom from the backend?] [Yes, exactly. I want to make sure we capture this historic signing on tape. Great, just route the live feed to my phone, please.] Hanging up, I opened the security application on my phone, my fingers trembling so badly I almost dropped the device. The live feed buffered, then snapped into crisp, high-definition color. The exact spot where Harry and Madison were currently writhing against each other was dead center of the massive mahogany conference table. Right beneath the unblinking eye of the camera. “Harry,” Madison purred, her voice tinny but clear through the audio feed. “What do you think Caroline would do if she knew… that every single year, the birthday lingerie you buy her is something I’ve already broken in for you?” She arched her back, and the camera caught the unmistakable scalloped edges of a black La Perla set. “Do you think she’d thank me for test-driving it?” Recognizing the delicate lace—the exact brand and style Harry gifted me every single birthday—a scalding heat flooded my eyes. My stomach pitched violently, the world tilting on its axis as bile rose hot and sharp in the back of my throat. I had to brace my hand against the cold plaster wall just to stay upright. We had been married for six years. And for six years, on every single birthday, he had found an excuse to be absent. I had always given him the benefit of the doubt. His work in defense intelligence was strictly confidential; he couldn’t control his hours. Or so I thought. I couldn’t have imagined, even in my darkest nightmares, that every time I sat alone in our dimly lit dining room, blowing out my candles and wishing for a long, happy life with my husband… he was locked inside my company’s boardroom with his adopted sister, desecrating every vow we had ever made. A frigid draft swept through the corridor, making me shiver uncontrollably. “Ms. Brooks?” I jumped, turning to see my executive assistant standing a few feet away, accompanied by a small camera crew. “The PR team and the corporate videographer are here,” she said, oblivious to the earthquake happening inside my chest. “With this live stream, our shareholders and the public will see us finalize the strategic partnership with Carmichael Industries in real time. It’s going to be a massive PR win for our stock.” I forced the corners of my mouth up into a smile, taking the bottle of water she offered to wash the bitter taste from my mouth. “Keep the camera discrete for now,” I instructed, my voice eerily calm. “We go live in fifteen seconds. And no matter what happens in that room, the stream does not cut. Understood?” With the stage set, I led my team toward the private executive elevators to wait for our VIPs: Harry’s father, Arthur Cole (a major shareholder); my own father, Richard Brooks; and our billionaire client, Victor Carmichael. When the elevator doors chimed and slid open, I plastered on my best professional warmth. “Dad, Victor. Right this way.” But as we stepped off the elevator and approached the boardroom wing, the pristine hallway told a different story. A pale blue women’s blazer lay crumpled on the carpet. Without missing a beat, I bent down, picking it up and draping it over my arm. A few steps later, two five-inch Louboutin stilettos lay violently discarded near the wall. And hanging off the heavy brass handle of the boardroom door? A single, sheer black stocking. As I feigned shock, clumsily trying to gather the trail of discarded clothes, the three older men stopped dead in their tracks. They looked at the messy bundle in my arms, then at me—dressed impeccably in my tailored trousers and silk blouse. Victor Carmichael cleared his throat, an uncomfortable, amused smile playing on his lips. “Well. Making your employees work on a Friday night is a bit draconian, Caroline. I hope us old men aren’t interrupting some young executives blowing off steam?” By now, the rest of my staff had arrived via the main elevators, congregating behind us in the corridor. I forced a tight, embarrassed laugh, shaking my head. I pressed my hand flat against the heavy double doors of the boardroom and pushed with all my might. “Let’s see what kind of scandal we’re walking into, shall we?” But before the door could swing fully open, someone shoved it back from the inside. Harry slipped through the narrow gap, his tie entirely gone, his dress shirt misbuttoned and untucked. His face, flushed a deep, feverish red, drained of all color the second he saw the crowd. “Dad? M-Mr. Brooks?” he stammered, his eyes darting wildly. “Isn’t it… isn’t today Friday? What are you all doing here?” Then, his gaze dropped to the shredded black stocking in my hand. He looked past me, realizing there were nearly fifty employees standing in the hallway, phones buzzing, whispers erupting. In a display of sheer, unadulterated audacity, Harry stepped forward and pulled me into a tight embrace, his hands gripping my waist like a vice. “Caroline, honey,” he said, his voice dripping with forced affection. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a meeting?” He ducked his head, pressing his mouth so close to my ear I could smell the sweat and sex on his skin. “Everyone is looking,” he hissed, his tone desperate. “Play along. It’s not what you think. I will explain everything later.” Feeling the frantic thud of his heart against my chest, a wave of profound physical revulsion washed over me. I shoved hard against his chest, breaking the embrace. “I apologize, gentlemen. How unprofessional of us,” I said loudly, projecting my voice. “Dad, Arthur, why don’t you take Victor to the VIP lounge for a few minutes? I’ll have maintenance clear the room, and we will begin the signing in five minutes.” Harry let out a breath he’d been holding, his shoulders dropping in relief. But the relief made him cocky. Instantly, his tone shifted from pleading to patronizing. “Caroline, what has gotten into you?” he scolded, playing the role of the rational husband. “You can’t make Victor wait. Doesn’t this floor have that smaller conference room down the hall? Let’s just use that one for tonight.” He shot a panicked, meaningful look at his father. Arthur Cole, a man who had built his fortune on reading between the lines and burying bodies, caught the look immediately. “Yes, exactly,” Arthur chimed in smoothly, stepping forward. “Harry is right. The small room will do just fine.” He practically bowed as he reached out to shake Victor’s hand. “My apologies, Victor. You know how disorganized the younger generation can be. Let’s head this way.” He was trying to herd everyone away. He wanted to clear the hallway so Madison—who was undoubtedly still trapped inside the main boardroom, naked and terrified—could make her escape. Not a chance in hell. “Arthur,” I said, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. “I can forgive Harry for not knowing the layout of our office, considering he doesn’t work here. But surely you know better.” I gestured to the sea of employees behind me. “The small boardroom holds twenty people. There are over fifty department heads and staff members here. Are we supposed to have them stand in the hallway during a multi-million-dollar merger?” I turned to Harry, a sweet, poisoned smile on my face. “Honestly, Harry. I work a late shift, change into something comfortable, and ask you to put my clothes away when you drop by to visit… and you just leave them scattered in the hall? You’re giving everyone the wrong idea.” I linked my arm through Victor Carmichael’s. “Victor, let’s head inside. I promised my team triple overtime for this sudden Friday night pivot. If I delay them any longer, I’m going to have a mutiny on my hands.” As the crowd surged forward toward the main doors, Harry threw his body in front of the handle, his eyes wild with terror. “Caroline, please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Just listen to me. Use the other room. Please.” My father, Richard, wasn’t an idiot. Watching my sudden, icy demeanor and Harry’s manic desperation, the pieces clicked together in his mind. His face darkened into a thundercloud. “Arthur,” my father barked, looking at Harry’s dad. “What the hell is going on in that room that your boy is so terrified of us seeing?” Without waiting for an answer, my father grabbed Harry by the shoulder, shoved him aside, and threw open the boardroom doors. He marched inside, the lights automatically flickering on. “All this sneaking around,” my father boomed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the boy had a woman hidden in—” His voice died in his throat. Right in the center of the polished mahogany table lay a crumpled bra and a torn pair of lace panties. My father didn’t hesitate. He spun around, grabbed Harry by the lapels, and drove his fist straight into Harry’s jaw. The crack echoed through the room as Harry hit the floor. “You son of a bitch!” my dad roared, kicking Harry hard in the ribs. “You actually dared to cheat on my daughter? Who is it? Who’s the whore you’ve got in here?” My dad pointed a shaking finger at the pile of clothes I had collected. “I knew the second the elevator doors opened. That blazer, those heels—Caroline wouldn’t be caught dead in that trashy garbage!” He reached for his jacket buttons, ready to drop down and beat Harry into a pulp, but Arthur grabbed him, pulling him back. “Richard, wait! Don’t do this here!” Arthur pleaded. Harry scrambled backward, blood dripping from his lip. He grabbed the underwear off the table and blindly reached under a nearby chair, pulling out a pink Victoria’s Secret shopping bag. “Dad! Mr. Brooks, you’ve got it all wrong!” Harry cried, his voice shrill. “It’s a gift! I bought it for Caroline for her birthday! It just… it fell out of the bag, and I hadn’t picked it up yet!” He looked up at me, his eyes begging me to throw him a lifeline. “Tell them, Caroline. Tell them! Haven’t I bought you a set just like this every year for the past six years?” The sheer, breathtaking cowardice of the man I married made my skin crawl. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. I calmly walked over, took the crumpled lace from his shaking hands, and dropped it into the nearest trash can, along with the heels and the blazer. “Dad, stop. He’s telling the truth,” I lied smoothly. I instructed the bewildered staff to take their seats. As they filed in, I let my eyes sweep the massive room. I was hunting. Madison had to be completely naked right now. The room was sleek, modern, minimal. The only place big enough to hide a human body was under the massive oak table. But when Harry had dropped to the floor to grab the bag, I had already checked the sightlines beneath the chairs. Nothing. There was only one other place. In the far corner of the room sat our industrial-grade architectural plotter and printer—a machine the size of a small car, with a massive hollow storage chassis at the bottom meant for spare toner and oversized paper rolls. To test my theory, I casually walked toward the corner, pretending to examine the thermostat on the wall near the printer. Instantly, a cold sweat broke out on Harry’s forehead. He lunged out of his chair, grabbing my elbow with a bruising grip. “Caroline,” he said rapidly, his eyes dilated. “Did you get the Venmo I sent you? The five thousand dollars?” “What money?” I asked, playing dumb and reaching for my phone. He snatched my hand away. “Never mind. Just… look at it later. Let’s get through this meeting, and then I’m taking you out. You wanted to go to that rooftop restaurant to see the fireworks, right? We’ll go tonight. Just the two of us.” I forced a smile, looking deeply into his panicked eyes. “Okay.” I was certain now. Madison was curled up inside the belly of that printer. I turned back to the table and signaled for my assistant to pause. “Victor, I am so sorry,” I announced loudly. “There is a glaring typo on page four of the financial disclosures. It’s an unacceptable oversight by my team, and it will be dealt with.” I looked at my assistant. “I need ten minutes. Have someone print a fresh, corrected copy of the contract right now. Use the machine in the corner.” “No!” The shout came from both Harry and his father simultaneously. No? I thought, a cold, dead calm settling over my heart. I don’t think you get a say in this anymore. I knew Arthur. I knew he had recognized Madison’s blazer in the hallway. I knew he had put the pieces together. The only reason he was playing along, pretending this was just a misunderstanding, was because he assumed I would protect the family’s reputation. He assumed I was a good, compliant wife who would rather swallow glass than cause a public scandal. What neither of them understood was that beneath my polished exterior, I was uncompromising. If you crossed my bottom line, I would burn the earth to ash to make you pay. I shot a subtle, loaded look at my father. He read my face instantly. “Victor, don’t worry,” my dad stepped in, his voice booming with authority. “We will have the corrected documents in your hands in less than ten minutes.” Arthur stepped forward, his face pale and sweating. “Is that the only printer in the building?” he snapped at my assistant. “Go use the one in marketing! You’re going to disturb Victor with that loud machine in here.” Arthur frantically poured a glass of water, offering it to Victor with a shaky hand. “Kids these days, Victor. No sense of decorum. Forgive them.” My assistant froze, looking at me for direction. My father leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his arms. He looked at Arthur with a predatory smirk. “Arthur, why are you sweating? It’s just a printer.” I tilted my head, adopting a look of innocent confusion. “Honestly, Harry, you and your dad are acting so bizarrely tonight. Is there something you’re hiding from me?” I crossed my arms, subtly angling my body so the videographer’s camera had a clear, unobstructed shot of the machine. “Are you really hiding a woman in here, like my dad said?” I teased, walking in a slow circle around the room. “But where would she be? The room is practically empty.” I stopped directly in front of the massive printer, staring at the ventilation grates on the lower housing. “It’s not like she could fit inside the paper tray, right?” Arthur’s face turned a sickly shade of gray. Harry held his hands up, his voice cracking with hysteria. “I swear to God, Caroline, I haven’t betrayed you! You’re taking this joke too far! Victor is our most important client, you’re being incredibly disrespectful!” He was still trying to gaslight me. He was still banking on my obedience. If Arthur and Harry were so determined to bury their heads in the sand, I was going to force their hand. Madison had two choices. One: She could push the hatch open, crawl out completely naked in front of fifty people and a live-streaming camera, and admit to the world that she had been sleeping with her adoptive brother. Two: She could stay inside the machine. And when the massive industrial gears and rollers fired up, she could see how much pressure human bone could take. I stared into Arthur’s eyes, entirely deadpan. “Three minutes have passed,” I said coldly. “Victor has a nine o’clock flight back to New York.”

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Since Cole Miller and Serena Vale became the nation’s favorite on-screen couple, I—Cole’s legal wife—have become a magnet for “accidents.” The first time, funeral wreaths were piled high against our front door, and the “Welcome” mat was soaked in what smelled like rot. The second time, I was cornered outside my office and doused in a bucket of thick, metallic-smelling animal blood. The third time, a car “lost control” on the sidewalk, sending me flying. I spent three months shattered in a hospital bed. Every time I cried to him, Cole’s response was a cool, detached shrug. “They’re just fans, Nicole. They get a little overzealous. Maybe if you stayed home like I told you, this wouldn’t happen.” Then came the tenth time. A “mysterious” fire broke out in our house while I was sleeping. I woke up to a wall of flames and ended up in the ICU for seven days, clinging to life with burns covering my body. The day I was discharged, Cole didn’t offer a hand to help me into the car. He offered a pen. He slid a divorce settlement across the seat. “Serena and I have a few more months of promotion. We need to get married to keep the momentum of the show alive. We’ll divorce now, and once the ‘showmance’ peak passes, we’ll quietly remarry.” He looked at me with those eyes the world fell in love with—eyes that used to belong to me. “It’s just PR, Nicole. You know that.” This time, I didn’t scream. I didn’t beg. I simply took the pen and signed my name. 1 “Nicole, honey, you can’t do this. You can’t leave Cole!” My mother-in-law, Margaret, rushed to the hospital the moment she heard. She grabbed my hands, her face a mask of genuine distress. “You two have been through everything together. You built this life from nothing.” “I know you’re hurting because of the rumors about him and Serena. I’ll call him right now. I’ll make him apologize!” Maybe Cole thought the same thing. He thought our history—the years of struggling in cramped Studio City apartments, sharing cheap ramen—was an unbreakable chain. He thought I’d never actually walk away. But I just shook my head, a tired, hollow smile touching my lips. I pulled out my phone and played a video. The room was dimly lit, but the figures were unmistakable. Cole and Serena, their bodies tangled, breathless and desperate. “Cole… I wish we could stay in the script forever,” Serena moaned. “I never want to leave this.” Cole kissed her, his voice a low, gravelly rasp I hadn’t heard in years. “If only I’d met you sooner. If only things were different.” I placed the phone on the bed and pushed the signed papers toward Margaret. My voice was a whisper. “His heart found a new home a long time ago. It’s time I let mine do the same.” The day I left the hospital was the day of Cole and Serena’s “Century Wedding.” The internet was a sea of blue hearts and celebratory hashtags. Every digital billboard in the city seemed to be looping the footage of their grand, romantic ceremony. The sun caught the massive sapphire on Serena’s finger, the glare so sharp it made my eyes ache. When we started, we were just two nobodies working as extras on the backlots of Burbank. We shared a dream, and that dream was the glue that held us together. When we got our marriage license, we didn’t have money for a ceremony, let alone a ring. We eventually scrounged enough to buy a thin silver band. It was a little too small, a little too plain. But back then, he’d gripped my hand and promised, “One day, Nicole, I’m going to give you the biggest diamond in the world. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret choosing me.” Now, he was fulfilling that promise to a different woman. The first time the tabloids caught them, I cried. He held me, smelling of guilt and expensive cologne, promising it was just “method acting” and that he’d set boundaries. The second time they were caught sharing an “intimate dinner,” he snapped at me. He told me they were “workshopping the script” and called me paranoid for “making something out of nothing.” The third time… I was alone in a cold clinic recovering from an ectopic pregnancy surgery when a video was DM’d to me. It showed them entering a hotel suite at 2:00 AM. When I confronted him, Cole didn’t even blink. “We were running lines, Nicole! Jesus, stop being so small-minded. I’m a public figure now. If you can’t handle the heat of this life, maybe you shouldn’t have married an actor.” When the show wrapped, a photo of them kissing on set—tearful and passionate—blew up globally. The comments were a unanimous chorus of adoration. [Look at them. That’s not acting. That’s true love. My ship has finally sailed!] [Cole Miller is the only man I’d forgive for cheating. He and Serena are soulmates!] [Can Cole’s wife just get out of the way already? How can some plain, retired extra even stand next to an Emmy winner?] That was the day the stalking intensified. The day the threats became physical. And every time I begged Cole for help, he just looked at me with cold, bored eyes. “My fans are rational people, Nicole. They wouldn’t do that. Maybe you should look at your own life and see who you’ve pissed off.” Then came the fire. When I woke up from the smoke inhalation and the burns, he was standing there with the divorce papers. “Serena and I need the buzz. It’s just a role.” “Be a good girl. Give me a month. Once the PR cycle ends, we’ll remarry.” I realized then that our marriage hadn’t just hit a wall. It had burned to ash in that house. 2 The day after I was discharged, my phone buzzed. It was Cole. “Nicole, did you forget to tell my mother that this is temporary? She’s making things impossible for Serena!” His voice was sharp, entitled. “You need to go over there right now and fix this, or don’t even think about us remarrying.” In the past, no matter who was at fault, I was always the one to bow my head first. But now, hearing the arrogance in his voice, I just said calmly, “Fine. Then let’s not remarry.” There was a stunned silence on the other end. Then he let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Don’t play hard to get, Nicole. It doesn’t suit you. We both know you’ll be crawling back to me in a week.” I remembered a time when the rumors were everywhere. We had planned a quiet dinner for my birthday, but Serena called. She had a “panic attack,” she said. Cole left before the appetizers arrived. That was our biggest fight. I screamed that I wanted a divorce. Cole’s eyes turned to ice. “Don’t you dare threaten me, Nicole. You’ll regret it.” He didn’t come home for three months. He blocked me everywhere. Desperate, I went to his hotel to find him, but he looked me in the eye and told the security guards he didn’t know who I was. I was arrested for stalking. I spent seven days in a holding cell—cold, hungry, and terrified—until Cole finally showed up to bail me out. He looked down at me, looking like a mess, and whispered, “Let that be a lesson, Nicole. Watch your mouth.” That was the day my heart shattered for the first time. After that, I stopped fighting about Serena. I became the perfect, quiet wife. I stayed in my lane. But in the end, I still lost everything. It was a family dinner at the estate. Margaret had called, begging me to come over for a “final” family meal. I couldn’t say no to her; she was the only person in that family who had ever been kind to me. But the moment I walked in, I saw Cole sitting at the table, meticulously peeling shrimp for Serena. I froze. Cole used to hate “messy” food. He hated the effort. But here he was, breaking his own rules for her. When he saw me, his forehead creased in irritation. “We’re divorced, Nicole. What are you doing here? If the paparazzi see you, it’ll ruin Serena’s image!” “I invited her,” Margaret said firmly, gesturing for me to sit beside her. Her expression was pained. Serena suddenly spoke up, her voice dripping with mock-sweetness. “Nicole, I heard you used to be an actress too. Is it true you quit because of that… incident with the director? The ‘casting couch’ thing?” The room went deathly silent. My body went rigid. That was my first real gig. A director had spiked my drink at a wrap party. I’d managed to text Cole my location before I blacked out. He’d found me in time, but the trauma had been paralyzing. Cole had taken two months off to stay with me, telling me I should just stay home where it was safe. That was why I quit. Serena tilted her head, her eyes gleaming. “I mean, some girls try to sleep their way to the top and then cry ‘assault’ when the deal falls through. I always wondered… you were already half-undressed when Cole found you, weren’t you? Who knows what really happened?” 3 Cole slammed his glass onto the table. The glass shattered, shards flying across the tablecloth. One sliced into my finger, but I didn’t feel it. I was too busy watching Cole’s face, which had turned a sickly shade of gray. A month after that trauma, I’d discovered I was pregnant. Cole had said he believed me back then, but I’d find him on the balcony at 3:00 AM, smoking in silence, looking at me with suspicion. We fought constantly. I lost the baby shortly after. After the miscarriage, the distance between us became a canyon. Cole’s voice cut through the air, cold and sharp. “Nicole. I’m asking you one more time. That night… were you actually raped?” The question was a knife, twisting in an old wound. “You never believed me, did you, Cole?” He stared at me, his jaw tight. “I just want the truth. I need to know the truth before I can commit to remarrying you.” I started to laugh—a soft, broken sound. “I’m not remarrying you, Cole. Ever.” “If you believe her so much, then stay with her. You deserve each other.” Cole sneered, his voice dropping to a cruel, tender tone. “Stop the theatrics. You have no career, no income. I’m the only thing keeping you from the gutter. You don’t have the guts to leave me.” Finally, the ugly truth was out. “Enough!” Margaret shouted, slamming her hand on the table. She reached over to comfort me, but as she took a bite of her salad, her face suddenly flushed a deep, terrifying red. She began to cough violently, gasping for air. “Mom!” Cole rushed to her side. He looked at the plate, then turned on me with a primal fury. “You knew she was deathly allergic to celery! She’s forgetful lately, but you—you did this on purpose!” “I didn’t—” He didn’t let me finish. He shoved me, hard. I tumbled backward, my hand landing on the jagged edge of the broken glass. Blood bloomed across my palm instantly. Cole paused for a fraction of a second, but then he looked away, his face hardening. He scooped Margaret up. “Serena, let’s get her to the hospital. Now!” I followed them, desperate to know she was okay. At the hospital, Margaret was stabilized. Through the thin walls of the observation room, I heard Serena sobbing. “It’s all my fault, Cole… I didn’t know about the celery.” “It’s fine, baby,” Cole’s voice was hauntingly gentle. “We’ll just tell everyone Nicole did it. Mom loves her; she won’t press charges. It’ll be okay.” I stood in the hallway, the blood from my hand dripping onto the white linoleum. I was his shield. His scapegoat. His trash. Over the next few weeks, I couldn’t escape them. They were on every talk show, every “Day in the Life” segment. They visited orphanages together, looking like the perfect young family. Late one night, Serena posted a photo from a hotel room. It was a shot of Cole sleeping, his arm draped over her. Both of them were covered in “love bites.” She deleted it within seconds, but the internet caught it. The fans went wild, asking when the “real” wedding was happening. I just smiled. The pain was finally being replaced by a strange, hollow peace. On the final day of his “month,” Cole called. His voice sounded wrecked. “Meet me at the courthouse. I’m divorcing Serena today, and we’re going to get our license again.” “Nicole, isn’t this what you wanted?” I hung up. I didn’t go. An hour later, my front door was nearly kicked off its hinges. Cole was there, his eyes bloodshot, his grip bruising as he grabbed my arm. “I told you I was coming back! And you… to get back at Serena, you hired people to hurt her? How could you be so vile?” “If anything happens to her, I will destroy you!” 4 I stared at him, genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?” He dragged me to the hospital. Serena was there, huddled in a corner of a private suite, shaking uncontrollably. Cole’s eyes filled with tears. He threw me aside and ran to her, pulling her into his arms. “It’s okay, Serena. I’ve already dealt with them. No one will ever touch you again.” When Serena saw me, she let out a blood-curdling shriek. She scrambled out of bed and knelt at my feet, sobbing. “Nicole, please… please don’t let those men come back. I’ll quit. I’ll leave the industry. I’ll never see Cole again, just please…” Her neck and arms were covered in dark bruises. Her face was swollen. I looked at her, my heart hammering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Slap! The force of Cole’s hand sent me spinning to the floor. My ears rang. Cole loomed over me, his face twisted in a mask of pure hatred. “Because it happened to you, you wanted it to happen to her? You’re sick, Nicole! I can’t believe I ever felt sorry for you!” “I should have never saved you that night at the hotel.” That sentence… it was the one that finally killed the last part of me that loved him. “I didn’t do this…” I whispered. He didn’t hear me. Or he didn’t care. He signaled to his security team. They hauled me into a car and drove me to the very hotel where everything had ended for me years ago. He threw me into the exact same room. “Since you love this place so much, since you love playing the victim, why don’t you stay here and reminisce?” The furniture was the same. The smell was the same. My body began to shake with a violent, primal terror. I grabbed his sleeve, my voice breaking. “I won’t remarry you. I’ll sign anything. Just please, take me away from here.” Cole leaned in, his voice a cold, terrifying whisper. “You want to know why you really lost that baby, Nicole?” “Serena told me that if I couldn’t look at you without wondering whose kid it was, I shouldn’t have it. So I slipped something into your water. I ended it myself.” The world tilted. The air left my lungs. I screamed—a raw, guttural sound of agony. “That was your child, Cole! You murdered your own child!” Because of that “miscarriage” and my previous surgery, the doctors had told me I could never conceive again. He hadn’t just killed a baby; he had killed my entire future. Suddenly, a guard burst in. “Mr. Miller! Miss Vale is hysterical—she just tried to jump from the second-floor balcony!” Cole’s face went pale. He turned and ran without a second glance. At the door, he paused. “Rot in here, Nicole. See how it feels.” The door slammed shut. I heard the lock click. I pounded on the wood until my knuckles bled. Then, I felt a presence behind me. A pair of large, heavy hands grabbed my waist. I was thrown onto the bed. I looked up and the scream died in my throat. It was him. The director from all those years ago. He grinned, showing yellowed teeth. “You ruined my career, you little bitch. You made me a pariah.” “Let’s see who saves you this time.” I lunged for the door, but he caught my hair, dragging me back. I screamed for help, but the walls were soundproofed. He pinned my wrists with his boots, the pain searing. He began tearing at my clothes. As he moved closer, his hand clamped over my mouth and nose. I couldn’t breathe. The world began to go black. Just as my consciousness started to slip, I heard a thundering crash. The door flew off its hinges. After he settled Serena down, a strange, gnawing anxiety began to eat at Cole. He remembered the look in my eyes when he left. He told himself he was just teaching me a lesson, but something felt wrong. He drove back to the hotel. He expected to find me crying. Instead, he found a nightmare that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

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On the morning of the state finals—the exams that would determine our college admissions and our futures—my brother handed me a bottle of milk. I took it, my chest tightening with a rare, sweet rush of gratitude, until a glowing string of text suddenly began scrolling across my vision, like a phantom live-chat projected directly into my mind. [Don’t drink it, babygirl! If she drinks that, the charity case gets x-ray vision to copy her answers!] [And she’ll slowly lose her mind. In seven days, her brain will turn to mush and her body will shut down.] My hand trembled. The bottle suddenly felt heavy, slick with condensation. Right beside us, my childhood best friend smiled softly and held out a braided luck-charm bracelet. The glowing text flared violently in my field of vision again: [The childhood bestie is trash too! If she wears that, the charity case gets an automatic twenty-point bump over her.] [The charity case will breeze into an Ivy League, while our girl gets locked in a psych ward with no memory, abused until she dies!] I blinked, the neon letters burning behind my eyelids. I looked up. Both of them were staring at me. It wasn’t the look of a loving older brother, nor the tender gaze of the boy I had secretly loved since we were ten. It was the calculated, breathless stare of hunters watching their prey step into a snare. … I didn’t say a word. I just took the milk and the bracelet, turned on my heel, and walked straight over to Raquel, the reigning queen of the school’s mean girls, who currently sat dead last in our class rankings. Fine, I thought, the ice spreading through my veins. If this is the game we are playing, then it’s my own fault if I don’t play it to the bitter end. “What are you standing around for? Drink the milk and review your flashcards. Every second counts.” Tristan had followed me. He twisted the cap off the bottle and shoved it toward me. The look in his eyes wasn’t protective; it was suffocatingly annoyed. For years, I had excused Tristan’s sharp edges, convincing myself that beneath his biting words was a fiercely loyal older brother who just didn’t know how to show he cared. Only now, staring at the poison in his hand, did I realize the truth. Every bottle of milk he had ever given me before an exam was a trap, meticulously laid for the sake of the girl he had placed on an untouchable pedestal. “I don’t have an appetite,” I said, my voice shockingly level. “Keep it for yourself. I’m going inside.” I turned away, but a hand violently seized a fistful of my hair from behind. My knees buckled, and I hit the pavement hard. “You dare talk back to me? Have you lost your damn mind?” Tristan roared, his face twisting into something ugly. “Don’t think I’m going to coddle you just because it’s finals week! Who the hell do you think you are?” “Throwing a tantrum and giving me attitude? I’ll teach you a lesson right here in front of everyone!” Heated whispers broke out around us as parents and test-takers turned to watch. Tristan, emboldened by the audience, snatched my backpack, raising it as if to smash it across my face. A hand caught his arm. It was Miles, rushing over, playing the peacemaker. “Tristan, man, come on! It’s exam day. If you scare Blair half to death, how is she going to test?” Miles knelt beside me, his face a perfect mask of concern. He gently brushed the dirt from my cheek, his touch as soft and familiar as it had always been. “Don’t take it to heart, Blair. He’s just stressed. He wants you to have enough energy for the exam,” Miles murmured. “Look, I went out of my way to get this luck bracelet blessed just for you. Put it on. I promise it’ll bring you the highest score.” He reached for my wrist to tie it on, but I snatched it from his fingers, burying it in my palm. These two men. One was my adopted brother, the person I had viewed as my closest family. The other was the boy who owned my heart. They had used my family’s American Express Black Cards to parade around the city’s elite circles as untouchable trust-fund gods. Yet, they had both fallen obsessively in love with the impoverished scholarship student I had personally sponsored, to the point where they were willing to join hands to destroy me. “Thank you both for your beautiful wishes. I will absolutely do my best.” I stared dead into their eyes, forcing the words through clenched teeth. “And when these exams are over, I promise I will repay you both. Thoroughly.” Tristan glared at me, his jaw tight, looking as though my very existence was an endurance test for him. Miles’s eyes glinted with the dark, hidden thrill of a successful setup. Feeling a scorching gaze from the periphery, I quickened my pace and passed through the school gates. Sure enough, I hadn’t made it far down the walkway before heavy footsteps rushed up behind me. A hand spun me around, and a stinging slap cracked across my cheek. “Didn’t I warn you to stay the hell away from Miles? Why are you always throwing yourself at him? Are you that desperate?” Raquel. The school’s ultimate bully. Just like always, she resorted to physical violence and sheer humiliation the second she felt threatened. I looked at her face, contorted with jealousy, and calmly extended the milk and the bracelet. “Don’t be mad,” I said, my voice dripping with earnest submission. “Look, everything Miles gives me, I save for you. I listened to what you told me.” I widened my eyes, playing the pathetic victim to perfection. “I promise, I’ll help you get him. Once finals are over, I’ll set up a date for you guys.” The hostility on Raquel’s face faltered, smoothing into a cruel, satisfied smirk. She snatched the items from my hands. “At least you know your place. Remember, a boring little nerd like you doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as him. Stay out of his sight.” She shoved her shoulder hard into mine as she walked past. My cheek burned with a fiery ache. If being a minor was the umbrella that protected monsters like her from the consequences of their actions… then I would gladly use their own dark, twisted methods to carve out my revenge. … When the morning Literature and Composition exam ended, the hallways were choked with exhausted students. “Oh my god, what do we do? That essay prompt was insane. The reading comprehension made no sense,” someone whined. “I know, right? The multiple choice felt like every single answer was correct. I’m dreading Math this afternoon.” Amidst the chorus of despair, a soft, musical laugh rose from the center of the crowd. “It wasn’t that bad, guys,” the girl said, her voice a soothing balm of false modesty. “I thought it was actually pretty straightforward.” I looked up and met her eyes. Harper had been the school’s most famous charity case until I stepped in. Meeting me had completely altered the trajectory of her life. My gaze dropped to the Cartier Love bracelet gleaming on her wrist. It was the birthday present I had received last month, worth over twenty thousand dollars. It had mysteriously vanished from my vanity a few weeks ago. Sensing my stare, Harper smoothly slipped her hand back into the cuff of her sweater. “Harper is practically a genius,” a girl next to her sighed enviously. “Of course a test like that was easy for you.” I almost laughed out loud. Straightforward? Was it straightforward because Raquel had spent the entire exam tossing her an eraser with the multiple-choice answers written on it? Perhaps stung by the quiet disdain in my eyes, Harper’s fingers curled into fists. She stared me down, raising her voice so it echoed down the hall. “I’m securing the Valedictorian spot this year. I’m going to make everyone who ever looked down on me open their eyes and realize they have to kneel just to look at me!” After the morning session, I stopped by a local boutique and bought a cheap braided bracelet that perfectly mirrored the one Miles had given me. To save time, I ducked into a cramped, greasy diner across the street from campus. I was eating a cheap bowl of soup, my eyes glued to a calculus prep book, when a shadow fell over my table. “Wow, Blair. You really are just trash. It’s the biggest week of our lives and you’re eating at a dump like this.” I looked up. Harper and her entourage were standing over me. The girl who had spoken was sneering, her eyes raking over the peeling linoleum and sticky tables. “The bacteria in here is probably enough to kill a person. Then again, if you die, your family would probably be thrilled to sue this place for a payout.” Because my family had once dealt with a horrific extortion attempt after an uncle flaunted his wealth, I had been strictly forbidden from showing off our money. Aside from Harper, everyone at school genuinely believed I was poor. At this age, where vanity and cruelty were worn like badges of honor, they spoke to me with zero restraint. I let out a low, cold laugh and looked directly at the ringleader. “Harper. How do you feel about what your friend just said?” Her eyes darted away for a fraction of a second before a sickeningly sweet smile stretched across her face. “We’re all classmates, Blair. Don’t be so sensitive.” She patted the table. “Anyway, keep studying. Look over your mistakes. We’re going to head next door for lunch.” Next door was a Michelin-starred bistro where lunch ran about five hundred dollars a head. Harper really had no shame. I didn’t have the energy to argue with ghosts. I put my head back down, maximizing every second to review my formulas. When the afternoon Math exam finished, the hallways erupted into the exact wailing I expected. One boy literally punched a locker, his knuckles turning red. “What the actual hell! Did the state board write that test just to drive us to suicide?!” Harper was once again flanked by a crying, panicked crowd, all lamenting their mental breakdowns during the multiple-choice section. “Oh, guys, it’s okay. It’s just math,” Harper said, the triumphant gleam in her eyes impossible to hide. “Tell you what. I’ll treat you all to an amazing dinner tonight. To make up for the trauma.” “Harper, you’re the best! Ugh, hopefully a good meal will help me bounce back tomorrow!” “You are so generous! Honestly, if I couldn’t do it, I’m sure my competitors couldn’t either!” As Harper led her entourage down the hall like a conquering queen, I hung back. I watched Raquel step out of the girls’ restroom. She was coughing around a vape pen, awkwardly adjusting the braided bracelet on her wrist. Her eyes were glazed with a bizarre, feverish joy. I almost had to hand it to Raquel. Even when she had no idea what she was doing, she had managed to fill out her entire scantron, giving Harper the illusion of a perfect cheat sheet. Someone walking by asked, “Hey Raquel, you filled out every bubble today. Think you pulled off a miracle?” Raquel didn’t even look up, her speech slightly slurred. “Whatever. I just bubbled random crap. Realized at the end I messed up the numbering on the free response anyway. Let’s see how much partial credit they give me.” Standing in the shadows, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. That night, the classroom was mostly empty. I finally had a moment of quiet to study. I was just finishing my review of my mistake log, preparing to tackle a few high-level practice problems, when the doors banged open and the crowd surged back in. “Harper is so rich! She ordered literally every signature dish on the menu. I am so stuffed!” “I never thought I’d get to eat a three-hundred-dollar slice of cake. I’m going to brag about this forever!” They knew Harper hated me. Seeing me sitting quietly, studying, was an invitation. One of them stormed over and snatched the prep book right out from under my pen. “Look at Blair, working so hard. Too bad no matter how much you kill yourself studying, our Harper will always score higher than you.” “Harper is a natural genius. Not like this dumb pig who just memorizes textbooks. Harper could sleep through the year and still get into Harvard.” They started tossing my prep book back and forth like a football. One of them deliberately dropped it and stepped on it, leaving a dirty footprint across the cover. “Harper. Call off your dogs.” I set my pen down on the desk with a sharp clack. My voice dropped an octave, cutting through the noise. “If you keep this up, I’m going home right now. I won’t show up for the exams tomorrow, and none of you will have anyone left to push around.” The room erupted into laughter. They slammed their hands on the desks. “Then don’t show up! Who cares?” “Please, drop out! One less person means my class rank goes up. Go home, loser!” But Harper’s smile vanished. Her face went rigid. If I didn’t test, who was she going to copy from? She immediately stepped forward, her voice sharp. “Enough! Stop messing around. It’s a good thing Blair works so hard. You have to let the students who don’t have natural talent try their best.” She glared at her followers. “I’m actually getting mad. Whoever bothers Blair while she’s studying is uninvited from the post-exam victory party.” It worked like magic. Someone even wiped the footprint off my book and slammed it back onto my desk with an eye roll. Harper then pulled out a brand-new, expensive set of final mock exams. She slid them onto my desk, an unspoken command. I smiled coldly, accepting the gift. Thanks to her warning, the rest of exam week went perfectly smoothly. No one dared to breathe in my direction. When the final bell rang on the last day, I capped my pen. A tidal wave of cheers and screams erupted from the halls, shaking the very walls of the school. The sky outside was burning with a brilliant, fiery sunset. The school gates were mobbed with local news reporters and parents clutching massive bouquets. I walked out slowly. Through the crowd, I spotted Tristan. He was handing a massive arrangement of imported roses to Harper. “Congratulations on surviving, Harper,” he said, his voice carrying. “Hidden in the flowers is that necklace from the auction you loved. I had it flown in from overseas just for you.” He smiled, a perfect picture of devotion. “I hope this is the start of an incredible summer.” Gasps rippled through the crowd. Phones were whipped out to record the fairy-tale moment. Even the local reporters swarmed in, cameras flashing. Through the sea of people, both of them made eye contact with me. They didn’t flinch. They didn’t try to hide. Of course they didn’t. As far as they were concerned, my usefulness had been entirely drained. All they had to do now was wait seven days for my brain to rot and my body to die. I turned away, only to catch sight of Miles standing near the edge of the crowd. He looked sullen, a dark cloud hanging over him. He was like a completely different person. He looked right through me, pretending I didn’t exist. “Move. You’re in my way,” he snarled, shoving past me to push his way toward Harper’s side. Standing there beneath the heavy shade of the oak trees, I felt like the entire world had abandoned me. And yet, I felt like I held the entire world in the palm of my hand. Even if I was entirely isolated, as long as my mind belonged to me, I could walk through fire alone and feel like an army. Before, I had been too focused on my future to deal with them. But now? Now it was my turn to systematically dismantle them. The moment I got in the car, I made the calls. I canceled their supplementary Black Cards. I called the estate manager and had the security codes to the mansion changed, revoking all guest access. “From today on, Tristan is no longer my brother. He is an adopted ward who has continuously crossed the line, and his time under our roof is over,” I ordered coldly over the phone. “Seize every asset currently in his name. Freeze his accounts. If anyone on staff so much as opens a door for him, they’re fired.” That evening, I ate a quiet meal prepared by our private French chef. I drew a bath with rose petals, soaking until the tension melted from my muscles, and then sank into my sprawling bed. When I finally checked my phone, my feed was choked with Harper’s posts. A drone light show. A private yacht party. Photos of absurdly expensive, rare gifts casually tossed on velvet cushions. Her caption read: [Graduation & Adulthood gifts. A magical night.] It really was quite the production. The class group chat was losing its collective mind: [Omg Harper, you kept saying you weren’t a billionaire heiress! This is literally out of a movie.] [I told you guys Harper was different. She’s old money, she just stays humble.] [So jealous. Beautiful, a genius, AND loaded. Did God even give you a flaw?] [Please don’t forget us little people, Harper! Let me work for you someday!] And of course, they couldn’t praise her without dragging me down. [Where is Blair? Didn’t she always hate Harper for taking first place? Why so quiet now?] [Lmao, she probably bombed the exams and is too ashamed to show her face. People who just grind textbooks can never beat real talent.] [That broke loser is probably scrubbing dishes at some diner right now to pay for community college tuition.] I scrolled past the malice without a flicker of emotion. My attention was solely focused on a text message I had received half an hour ago from the manager of the Four Seasons. [Miss Prescott, the young master arrived with a young lady and requested the Presidential Suite along with our highest-tier service package. However, his cards are declining. He asked us to put it on your tab. Do you authorize this?] I almost threw up. You want to sleep with her, and you want me to pay for the room? The sheer audacity. I held down the microphone button and replied. “What young master? There is only one heir to the Prescott family, and that is me. If this stranger wants to play pretend billionaire but doesn’t have the cash, tell him to take out a payday loan.”

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Seven years of marriage, and my husband finally agreed to spend the holidays with my parents. But for the seventh year in a row, the car pulled up in front of his ex-girlfriend’s apartment complex. “I took a wrong turn,” Miles said, his eyes never leaving his phone. “Since we’re already here, we might as well grab lunch with them.” Bridget’s mother was already at the door, beaming. She reached out and grasped Miles’s wrist with practiced familiarity. “My favorite son-in-law! You’re finally here.” When she saw our son, her smile widened. “Max, honey, did you miss your Grandma?” Max chirped a greeting and ran into her arms. I was left standing in the foyer, still clutching the gift baskets I’d bought for my own mother. This was the seventh time he had “accidentally” taken a wrong turn. Looking at the three of them, a cold realization washed over me. Maybe it was time I took a different road, too. … “Oh, Diana. You’re here as well?” Mrs. Gable’s eyes flickered with a hint of annoyance before she masked it with a polite, hollow smile. “You’re getting older, dear. Why are you still following your brother around every year?” I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms. It was a sick joke, really. I had been married to Miles for seven years, and every holiday season, he brought me here. He told everyone I was his sister. In front of Bridget’s mother, I was the tag-along sibling. Even my own son, Max, was coached to call me “Aunt Diana” whenever we were in this house. “Ma, don’t worry about her,” Miles said with a light chuckle, walking inside like he owned the place. “Where’s Bridget?” Right on cue, Bridget stepped out of the bedroom. She glided over and naturally looped her arm through Miles’s. “Hey, baby.” Max saw her and immediately lunged, hugging her knees. “Mommy! I missed you!” Miles looked down at them, a smile tugging at his lips. His eyes held a warmth, a gentle tenderness, that I had never once seen directed at me. My chest tightened, the air leaving my lungs as if someone were squeezing the life out of me. As Mrs. Gable headed into the kitchen, I caught Miles’s sleeve and lowered my voice. “You said… you said we were going to my parents’ place this year.” He didn’t even look at me. “I’m just used to the drive. It was a mistake.” Max, playing with blocks on the rug, piped up in his sweet, high-pitched voice. “Mommy is here. I like it here. I don’t want to go to your house.” I froze. The words were soft, innocent, but they twisted in my gut like a serrated blade. Bridget leaned in, her face a mask of performative guilt. “Diana, I’m so sorry. Don’t listen to him, he’s just a kid.” She sighed, her eyes welling with tears. “I feel terrible… if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have to deal with all this.” Miles’s face hardened instantly. He pulled her against his shoulder. “How is any of this your fault?” He gently wiped a stray tear from her cheek before turning to me, his brow furrowed in a scowl. “Diana, don’t start drama. Not today.” I looked away, my gaze landing on a framed photo on the side table. It was the three of them—Miles, Bridget, and Max—grinning at a park. Miles and I didn’t have a single photo together. He always said he hated being in pictures. The truth was, he just hated being in them with me. I had loved Miles for fifteen years. When he and Bridget broke up years ago over a misunderstanding, he married me in a fit of spite and familial pressure. I was ecstatic, foolishly thinking I could win him over. But on our wedding night, he had looked at me with chilling indifference and said, “I don’t love you. I never will.” I didn’t believe him. I stayed. I tried. The day Max was born, Miles stood by the hospital bed for two minutes. “Good job,” he’d said. It was the kindest thing he’d ever told me. I thought it was a start. I thought we were finally becoming a family. Then Bridget came back. She had thrown herself into his arms, sobbing about her mother’s terminal illness—a diagnosis that seemed to conveniently linger for years without change. “Miles, please,” she’d begged. “My mom’s last wish is to see us together. Can you just… play along for her sake?” He had agreed without a second thought. And for years, he used the “wrong turn” excuse to trap me in this charade. The sounds of laughter and the sizzle of garlic drifted from the kitchen. Miles and Bridget were helping Mrs. Gable, and Max was perched on a stool, giggling as Mrs. Gable snuck him a piece of bacon. They looked like a perfect family. And I was the ghost haunting the hallway. The weight in my chest became unbearable. When Miles came out to grab some silverware, I blocked his path. “I’m leaving.” He stopped, his eyebrows twitching upward. “Lunch isn’t even ready. Where are you going?” “I can’t stay here, Miles.” “Don’t be ridiculous. If you leave now, it’ll look like Mrs. Gable was a bad hostess. Just sit down.” He tried to brush past me. I grabbed his arm. “I mean it. I’m going home.” He looked down at my hand on his sleeve, his expression darkening. “What is wrong with you lately? You’ve been doing this for years. Stop being so sensitive. We’ll leave after we eat.” I didn’t let go. “I want to leave now.” The air between us turned icy. Miles let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Fine. Go. See how far you get.” I was stunned that he actually gave in, but I didn’t wait for him to change his mind. I turned and walked out the door. The winter air hit me like a physical blow, but I welcomed it. I pulled out my phone and opened a rideshare app. The screen spun for a second before a notification popped up: [Transaction Declined: Insufficient Funds] My blood ran cold. I turned around. Miles was standing on the porch, leaning against the railing, watching me with a calm, predatory stillness. He had done it on purpose. He let me walk out because he knew I had nowhere to go. He had frozen my cards. “Done throwing your tantrum?” he asked, his voice flat. “Get back inside. Food’s getting cold.” I felt a wave of humiliation so intense I thought I might be sick. “Daddy!” Max ran out the door, followed by Bridget. He looked at me with a scowl. “Grandma says come eat!” Bridget hovered behind them, her eyes darting between Miles and me. “Is everything okay? Diana, did I do something to upset you? I’m so, so sorry… please don’t be mad…” Seeing Bridget’s “distress,” Max stepped in front of her, glaring at me. “You’re a mean lady! Stop being mean to my Mommy!” I felt my heart shatter into a million jagged pieces. This was the child I had carried for nine months. Miles hadn’t wanted a baby. He only gave in because his parents were relentless. I had spent my pregnancy in and out of the ER with severe morning sickness, often lying on a hospital cot at 3:00 AM completely alone. Miles never showed up. I didn’t mind then. I thought the baby would be my anchor. I quit my job to be a stay-at-home mom, giving up my financial independence to raise him. And now, my son looked at me like I was a villain. “Let’s go. Inside. Now,” Miles commanded. “No,” I said, my voice trembling but firm. “I’m going home, Miles.” The silence that followed was heavy. Miles stared at me for a long time, his gaze turning into something sharp and cruel. “Fine. Walk, then.” He turned, taking Bridget’s hand and leading Max back into the warm house. The door clicked shut, but I could still hear Bridget’s voice through the wood. “Miles, is she going to be okay out there?” “She’s fine. She just needs to cool her head.” “Yeah, Mommy, don’t worry about that mean lady!” The first snowflake drifted down, landing on my hand. My house was thirty miles away. He was telling me to walk thirty miles in a blizzard. I looked down, my vision blurring. A hot tear traced a searing line down my frozen cheek. My phone buzzed. It was my mother. “Diana? Honey, where are you? We’ve been waiting.” I bit my lip, trying to swallow the sob rising in my throat. “I’m sorry, Mom. Miles… he took a wrong turn. We’re not going to make it today.” There was a long silence on the other end. Then, a forced, cheerful sigh. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. We’ll see you after the holidays. Just… take care of yourself, okay? Don’t let yourself get pushed around.” I hung up, unable to speak. I crumpled onto the snowy curb, shivering. This neighborhood was in the far suburbs. On the day after Christmas, everything was closed. The streets were deserted. There was nowhere to hide from the cold. I don’t know how much time passed before a pair of boots appeared in my peripheral vision. Miles sighed and scooped me up into his arms. His touch was unexpectedly gentle. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” he muttered. “You’re freezing.” I didn’t answer. I just let the tears fall silently as he carried me to the car and cranked the heat. As the warmth rushed over me, my frozen fingers began to throb with pain. He glanced at me. “Max wants to spend the night with Bridget. I’ll pick him up tomorrow. He doesn’t like being around you when you’re like this, Diana. You really should reflect on why your own son prefers someone else.” I let out a hollow laugh. The reason was simple: I was the one who made him do his homework and eat his vegetables. Bridget was the one who gave him candy and told him stories about how “Aunt Diana” was a bitter woman. I had nothing to reflect on. Miles’s tone softened. “I only come here because Bridget’s mom is sick. It doesn’t mean anything else. Don’t be mad, okay?” He reached into his pocket and tossed a small velvet box into my lap. “I bought you that necklace you liked. Consider it an apology. Now stop the act.” I opened the box. Inside was a diamond pendant I’d seen in a magazine once. A limited-edition piece. I stared at his profile. He couldn’t remember our anniversary, but he remembered a random page I’d flipped past. He didn’t love me, but he knew exactly how to keep me on the hook. “Better?” He reached over and ruffled my hair. “You’re so easy to please.” I opened my mouth to speak, but his phone rang. He answered it immediately. Bridget’s frantic sobbing filled the car. “Miles… I tripped on the stairs… my ankle, it hurts so bad… can you come back? Please?” Miles’s face transformed. Without a word of explanation to me, he slammed the car into reverse and sped back to the apartment. “Stay here,” he said as he jumped out. “She’s fragile. She needs me.” I watched through the window as he ran to the door and gathered Bridget into his arms. She buried her face in his chest. Max stood beside them, patting Bridget’s arm, mimicking his father’s protective stance. I couldn’t hear them, but I didn’t need to. They were a unit. A family. And I was an intruder. My fingers hovered over the phone screen. I opened a draft and typed seven words: Have the divorce papers ready by Monday. Miles didn’t get home until after midnight. I was waiting in the living room, ready to end it, but the door opened and Bridget walked in, leaning on his arm, with Max trailing behind. “Her ankle is bad,” Miles said defensively. “She’s staying here for a few days so I can look after her.” Max cheered. “Mommy! Can you stay forever?” He looked at me with a sneer. “I don’t like her! I want you to be my real mommy!” Miles chuckled softly. Then, noticing my expression, he frowned. “It’s just for a few days. Don’t be petty. Besides, I pay the mortgage. I decide who stays here.” I felt a strange, numbing calm settle over me. The pain had reached a peak and simply snapped. “Fine,” I said. “She can stay.” “What?” Miles blinked, surprised by my lack of resistance. “I said fine. In fact, why don’t the three of you take the master bedroom? I’ll move into the guest room.” Miles’s face went pale. “What the hell are you talking about?” Bridget started to cry again, her voice trembling. “Diana… please don’t be like that… if I’m not welcome, I’ll go… I’ll just crawl back to my place…” Max hugged her waist, screaming at me. “Mommy stays here! You mean lady! You’re just mean!” I stood up and grabbed a blanket from the closet. “I’m serious. Stay as long as you want. Like you said, Miles—it’s your house.” I walked into the guest room and locked the door, muffling the sound of Max’s cheers and Bridget’s faux-protests. A few minutes later, Miles knocked. “Diana? Open up. What’s wrong with you?” I opened the door and smiled at him. It was the most honest smile I’d given him in years. “Nothing is wrong. I’m great.” “You’re obviously pissed. Bridget is just a guest. Don’t make this weird.” I nodded. “I’m not making it weird. I truly don’t care.” He searched my face, his eyes narrowing. After a moment, he sighed. “Look, I know you’re still upset about the holiday thing. How about this: I’ll take you to your parents’ tomorrow. Just the two of us. Okay?” I stared at him. For seven years, my mother had called him every holiday, and for seven years, he was “too busy.” Now, he was offering it like a scrap of meat to a dog. “No thanks,” I said. “Stay here with Bridget.” He looked frustrated. “I said I’d go. I’m trying here, Diana.” “I have a gift for you tomorrow instead,” I said softly. “A gift? For what?” “You’ll see. I think you’re really going to like it.” He looked relieved. He stepped forward and tried to pull me into a hug. “There she is. Stop being a brat. Go to sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning.” I didn’t hug him back. The next morning, I woke up to an empty house. A text from Miles was waiting on my phone: [Bridget’s ankle was acting up, took her to the clinic. Wait for me, I’ll be back in an hour and then we can go to your mom’s. Stay put.] I didn’t reply. I had spent fifteen years waiting for him. I was done. I packed my suitcase, walked into the kitchen, and placed the envelope on the marble island. The “gift” he had wanted for years: his freedom. I took one last look at the house that never felt like a home, and I walked out. I was leaving the man I’d loved for half my life, and I was never coming back.

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My husband gave me two snakes as pets. The eerie part? Whenever they realize I’m watching, they start mating—ferociously, shamelessly. It’s enough to make me turn away in a flush of heat. Then, out of nowhere, the Feed flickers into my vision like a digital hallucination. [Wow, the female lead is a genius. Getting the System to turn them into snakes so they can flaunt their “love” right under the wife’s nose? Iconic.] [LOL, they’re going at it like it’s a honeymoon, and the poor side-character wife is just standing there playing house. She has no idea he’s going to use that snake tail to strangle her tonight.] [Once she’s out of the picture, he inherits her millions and marries the “real” lead. A classic move.] A chill raced down my spine. I didn’t hesitate. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number of a local game processor—a man known for his lack of mercy toward reptiles. “Hey, Silas? I’ve got two fat ones for you. I hear the meat is great for a winter stew.” 1 I was jolted awake by a wet, rhythmic slithering sound—the sound of scales grinding against scales. I opened my eyes to find two six-foot, iridescent “spicy noodles” dangling from my crystal chandelier. They were entwined in a tight, DNA-like spiral, their heads swaying with a sickening sort of ecstasy, tongues flicking against one another. Their eyes looked… drunken. Almost human. Almost as if they were smiling. A few drops of murky, white fluid dripped from their tails, landing right on the silk of my nightgown. Again. This was the eighteenth time they’d pulled this stunt in my bedroom. I sat up, frustrated, and called my husband. No answer. I left a voice memo, my voice tight with irritation. “Mark, where did you even find these things? They’re shameless. They’re doing it in my room every single day.” “Seriously, I don’t think they’re even snakes. They don’t act like them. They don’t even care about the cold.” Suddenly, the air in front of me distorted. Neon text bled into my retinas. [Hahaha… Congrats, you guessed it! They aren’t snakes, honey. That’s your husband and your best friend. Surprise!] [They’re hitting the high notes while you’re playing pet-owner. They aren’t your pets—they’re your executioners!] [My girl Bridget is a mastermind. Before she cut ties with the System, she used her last points to get two transformation pills. Pure brilliance!] [They’re literally doing it on the wife’s clothes for the thrill of it, then making her “clean” them afterward. It’s so twisted, I love it!] [Bridget is already pregnant. It’s time to get rid of the wife. Can’t have a baby bump showing in the wedding dress, right?] [Don’t worry, the kill happens tonight. Mark strangles her, shifts back to human form, inherits the estate, and takes Bridget home. Happily ever after!] The words left me paralyzed with a bone-deep cold. I looked up at the female snake. She was staring at me with a look of triumphant malice, and for a split second, I saw the shadow of Bridget—my “soul sister,” my bridesmaid—in those slit pupils. According to the Feed, Bridget was the “Protagonist” of this world. She was supposed to be building some grand empire with a supernatural System, but she’d decided she wanted Mark instead. She wanted my life. The System had abandoned her, but not before giving her the means to replace me. The ice in my veins turned to fire. I swear I could hear Bridget’s voice whispering in my mind: “Look at her, Mark. Look at how stupid she is, just watching us. It’s so hot.” Then, the male snake’s tail tightened around her, and I heard Mark’s low, familiar rumble: “Let her watch. That’s the point. I’m going to fill you with so many legacies while she watches her world burn.” I bit my lip until it bled, using the pain to anchor myself. I picked up the phone again. “Silas? You said these two were big enough for a feast? They’re yours. Come get them.” 2 Silas was silent for a long beat. Everyone in our gated community knew we were rivals. I was the “animal lover” who rescued strays; he was the man who ate anything that crawled, often tormenting the creature before he butchered it. When Mark first brought the snakes home, Silas had smelled them from across the street. He’d offered me two thousand bucks on the spot. I’d told him to go to hell. “Cassidy?” Silas finally rasped. “What kind of game are you playing? Is this a trap?” “You want them or not? If you don’t show up in ten minutes, I’m calling the guy in the next county over.” “Wait, wait! Don’t you dare give those beauties to anyone else. I’m coming. Keep them locked up. I’m on my way!” The moment I hung up, the snakes tumbled from the chandelier. They began to slither across the bed in a frantic, panicked mess. Bridget’s shrill voice echoed in the room: “Is she crazy? Why is she selling us?!” Mark’s voice was more hesitant, analytical: “Relax. We know how much she loves animals. She’s spent two months nursing us like babies. That doesn’t just change.” “Then what is she doing?!” “It’s a play. She hates Silas. She’s probably setting him up. She’s told me a dozen times she wanted to take that man down.” “Right. She told me the same thing.” Bridget seemed to exhale. Her tail brushed against him again. They started up again, right in front of me. The female snake arched her neck like a concubine seeking favor in an old period drama. “Baby, the antidote from the System arrives today. We need to hurry up and finish her off before we shift back, right?” Mark’s yellow eyes drifted toward me. His black tongue flicked out, tasting the air near my face. He didn’t speak. Bridget hissed at him. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you getting soft? You still love her, don’t you? I knew it! You’re just using me!” The female snake slithered over to my dresser, her coils wrapping around a silver-framed document. She looked back at Mark, her eyes welling with a strange, reptilian moisture. “You kept your ‘anniversary’ souvenir. You can’t bring yourself to kill her!” Before she could finish, Mark’s tail whipped out like a thunderbolt, shattering the glass. The shards pierced the paper. It felt like they were piercing my heart, too. Everyone knew the story. Mark was the high school dropout who cleaned up his act to impress me. He studied until his eyes bled just to get into the same university. We’d kept our acceptance letters framed together for years—a symbol of his “devotion.” Now, his tail slammed into my letter with a pure, unadulterated venom. His voice was a ghostly growl: “She’s terrified of water. I’m going to coil around her throat with this body she loves so much, and I’m going to hold her under until the light leaves her eyes.” I stood there, stunned by the sheer depth of his cold-bloodedness. I had been nothing but a savior to him. When his business failed, I bankrolled his lifestyle. When he was depressed, I gave him space and luxury. I had treated him better than I treated myself. Why did he hate me so much? I looked at the Feed. [I knew he hated her! The more she helped him, the more he loathed her. No ‘Alpha’ male can handle his wife being the breadwinner and the brains.] [That acceptance letter? It’s a reminder that she’s better than him. Every cent of her money he spends feels like a slap to his ego. Love died a long time ago; only resentment remains.] [Hahaha, she deserves it. What’s the point of having money if you don’t know how to act like a submissive wife? Bridget is smarter—she knows how to stroke a man’s ego to get what she wants.] I let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh. My kindness was his cage. My generosity was his insult. I walked straight toward the snakes. They thought I was going to stroke them, to apologize. They were motionless as I grabbed them and shoved them into a heavy burlap sack. But as I went to pull the drawstring, Mark’s head shot out. He moved with lightning speed, coiling his cold, muscular body around my neck. 3 The icy pressure tightened around my throat. His head rose, his eyes fixed on mine, his tongue lashing against the tip of my nose. His tail tightened around my wrist like a handcuff. I was ready to fight, ready for everything to end right here. But then, his eyes shifted. “Mark, what are you waiting for? Do it!” Bridget screamed from inside the bag. Mark didn’t tighten his grip. Instead, he slid his coils down to my abdomen, hovering there as if protecting a kill. “She’s pregnant.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I looked down at my flat stomach. Impossible. Mark had been “traveling” for months. We hadn’t been together in ages. Bridget hissed, her voice dripping with fury. “I knew it! She’s been playing the loyal wife while sleeping around with some loser!” “The child is mine.” Shock after shock. My mind raced back to a dream I’d had two months ago. A dream of a massive serpent coiling around me in the dark, the weight of it crushing the breath from my lungs. I’d woken up drenched in sweat. It wasn’t a dream. It was him. “Oh, I see.” Bridget’s voice turned small, wounded. “If she’s carrying your baby, I’ll just go. I know you won’t hurt your own blood. I’ll leave you three to your happy family. Everything we had was just a dream.” Mark immediately hooked his tail around the bag to comfort her. “Don’t do that. When did I say I’d choose her? I only want children from you. Her baby? It’s just an ant I haven’t stepped on yet.” He looked back at me, his eyes dead. “We’ll send them both to the afterlife together. They can keep each other company on the long walk down.” I clenched my fists. At that moment, the doorbell rang. Silas’s rough voice boomed through the door: “Cassidy! Open up! I’m here for my meat!” 4 The two snakes froze. With a coordinated movement, they slithered out of the bag and back up to the high rafters of the living room, coiling out of reach. I opened the door and let Silas in. “They’re inside,” I said, my voice hollow. “Catch them yourself. Do whatever you want with them. I don’t want to know.” I turned and walked toward the kitchen, closing the door behind me. The Feed went into a frenzy. [Wait, is she really leaving? Is she actually selling the protagonists? No way.] [Mark and Bridget are panicking. They were going to kill her the second Silas left, but if she leaves the room, they can’t get to her!] [Oh no! Silas has a machete!] [Wait! The antidote just arrived! Bridget, quick—eat it!] [If they turn human now, Silas can’t touch them!] [Eat it! There are only two pills. If you miss this window, you stay snakes forever!] Antidote? My nerves caught fire. If they shifted back now, I was a dead woman. I spun around and threw the door open.

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Because my husband Adrian froze all my bank cards, I went to his company to ask for money for my prenatal checkup. I accidentally walked in on him having sex with his childhood sweetheart, Summer Cole. I touched my still-unborn child, swallowed my tears, and walked in calmly. “Give me two thousand dollars for the checkup, and I’ll leave right away.” Adrian sneered. “We’re in the middle of having sex, and you scared Summer. Apologize to her, and I’ll give you the money.” For the sake of my unborn baby, I immediately bent down to apologize, took the money, and left. Everyone thought I was a gold-digger clinging desperately for money. He cursed me the same way. It wasn’t until after I disappeared that Adrian realized his “embarrassing” wife had, by his own hands, become the woman every elite family wanted most. And when he knelt before me, begging me to look at him one more time in his bloody, broken state, I was holding another man’s arm, walking down the red carpet toward my wedding.

Joanna POV Three years after marrying Adrian Blackwood, I saw him passionately kissing his childhood sweetheart Summer Cole in his office. On the leather sofa I’d personally chosen, Adrian had Summer pinned beneath him. “Summer, I want you.” “So when are you signing the divorce papers to marry me?” Summer wrapped her arms around Adrian’s neck, her cool voice still tinged with fading desire. Standing outside the door, I froze. Tears streamed down my face without me even realizing it. My hand instinctively moved to my abdomen. I hadn’t forgotten my purpose for coming here-to ask Adrian for money for my prenatal checkup. Two months ago, after Summer returned to the country, Adrian made her the household manager and simultaneously cut off all my cards. I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from my face, forced a smile, and pushed open the door to walk into the office. “Sorry to interrupt.” Hearing my voice, Adrian’s brow furrowed quickly. His body, which had been pressing down on Summer, immediately straightened, pulling distance between them. Summer’s expression darkened as she buttoned her shirt, concealing the kiss marks on her neck. Ignoring the awkward atmosphere in the room, I looked straight at Adrian. “I need to go to the hospital for a checkup today. I applied to Summer yesterday, but she didn’t reply, so I came here.” “How much do you need?” “Two thousand dollars.” Summer frowned, her cool face covered with a layer of frost. “Joanna, I already manage all the household affairs, and on top of that, I’m Blackwood Corporation’s Design Director. I don’t have time to approve every little expense you come up with. Don’t tell me you can’t afford two thousand dollars. Or are you just trying to make a scene in front of Adrian?” Adrian’s scrutinizing gaze shot into my heart like a knife, cutting it into countless tiny pieces. I smiled bitterly inside. After marriage, I hadn’t worked. Adrian cut off my cards, and the money I’d saved before marriage ran out in a month. My mother was still hospitalized, and everything required money. This month, even working three jobs a day wasn’t nearly enough. If I hadn’t been truly desperate, I wouldn’t have humiliated myself by asking. I looked up at Adrian. “Adrian, I’m still your wife. Are you giving me this money or not?” Deep in my heart, I still held hope for the man before me. If Adrian could choose me over Summer, for the sake of the child, I could pretend nothing had happened. “Give it? Of course I’ll give it.” Adrian sneered. “You married me for the Blackwood family money, didn’t you? But my money doesn’t grow on trees.” “Today you ruined my mood. Apologize to us, and you can take the money.” The humiliation was overwhelming. I could barely breathe. Mrs. Blackwood was right. Adrian truly loved Summer. I was just a stand-in. “I’m sorry for interrupting you two.” Adrian raised an eyebrow, clearly unsatisfied with my apology. I turned to Summer and bent at the waist. “The money’s been transferred to you. Don’t come to the company unless it’s necessary from now on.” I looked at the notification showing two thousand dollars deposited, lowered my head, and left the office. I don’t know how I walked out of the company. In a daze, I remembered three years ago when Adrian fell for me at first sight and pursued me frantically. He picked me up and dropped me off every day, gave me endless small gifts, and created various surprises for me. Just because I said I didn’t know what flowers I liked, he rented ten thousand acres of flower fields and let me choose one by one. Having never been treasured like that before, I fell. On our wedding registration day, Adrian looked like he owned the whole world, his eyes full of happiness and longing for the future. “Joanna, we’ll be happy for a lifetime.” But only three years later, he cheated with another woman. I picked up my phone and sent a message to Mrs. Blackwood. “You win. I accept defeat. Please fulfill your promise.” Soon I received a reply. “The divorce papers will reach you within three days. I’ll arrange your mother’s hospital transfer process. Three days from now, you leave New York and never come back.” I put away my phone and hailed a car to the hospital. Watching the scenery outside the window, I let out a long breath. Soon it would all be over. Three months ago, my mother’s small company was sabotaged, creating a huge funding gap. Mother didn’t want me to worry, so she faced those vicious debt collectors alone. I didn’t find out until the company went bankrupt and Mother was driven to a heart attack and admitted to the ICU. When I was desperate, not knowing how to ask Adrian for money, Mrs. Blackwood found me first. “I can pay for your mother to get the best treatment, but you have to make a bet with me.” Mrs. Blackwood had opposed my marriage from the start. Back then, Adrian fought his family elders for me and was severely punished, nearly losing half his life before Mrs. Blackwood relented. “Adrian’s ex-girlfriend is returning tomorrow. She and Adrian are perfectly matched, but three years ago, family circumstances forced her to go abroad. I’ll arrange for her to enter Blackwood Corporation. If within three months, Adrian still insists on only you, from then on I won’t make things difficult for you.” “But if he chooses Summer, you leave New York. In either case, I’ll give you money so your mother can get treatment.” At the time, I was supremely confident in our relationship, thinking this was a gamble that could both get Mother treatment and make Mrs. Blackwood fully accept me. Mrs. Blackwood handed me a card. “Don’t tell Adrian about this, and don’t play any tricks. I still have the final say at Blackwood Corporation.” I returned home to pack, constantly replaying the doctor’s words in my mind. “The baby’s developing well, but you’re already showing some signs of threatened miscarriage. During pregnancy, you need to maintain your physical and emotional wellbeing. Don’t overwork yourself.” I had no choice. Mother in the ICU was burning through money every day. Given Adrian’s current attitude toward me, he wouldn’t give me a cent. I could only rely on myself. Perhaps with my current situation, I shouldn’t keep this child at all. Closing my suitcase, I noticed a glaring red color in the bed crack. I walked over and picked it up. It was women’s underwear with traces of fluid still remaining. In that instant, my mind went blank. Adrian and Summer-they did it in our marital bedroom?

Joanna POV I wanted to wait for Adrian to come home and ask him clearly, but I waited until dawn without seeing anyone. I smiled bitterly. Adrian hadn’t come home much this past month-why did I think he’d come back today? My phone suddenly rang. It was Adrian calling. “Bring two boxes of condoms. I’ve sent you the address and the brand.” I opened the address Adrian sent-it was “Mystique,” New York’s largest nightclub. “Do you really have to humiliate me like this?” My voice trembled as I bit my lip hard. Was it because I’d already seen them this morning, so there was no need to hide it from me anymore? Adrian’s voice carried not a trace of emotion. “If you want to enjoy the glory and wealth of being a billionaire’s wife, you need the appropriate tolerance. Did you think you could just take my mother’s money for free?” Adrian’s words struck me like a bolt of lightning. So he’d been treating me so differently because he knew I’d taken money from Mrs. Blackwood. “Adrian, I didn’t-” “I only use this brand. If she can’t deliver it, don’t touch me anymore.” Summer’s cool voice came through the phone, extinguishing the hope that had just kindled in my heart. It was never just about the money. If Adrian loved me enough, trusted me enough, he wouldn’t think of me this way. His heart had long since left me. Nothing I said would matter. “I’ll order delivery for you. Hope you have fun.” I hung up and had just opened the delivery app when I received a message from Adrian. “This brand isn’t available for delivery. Get it here within thirty minutes, and I’ll give you a hundred thousand.” Thinking of my future with Mother, and the child in my belly, I replied: “Deal.” The Blackwood family driver had already finished work. At this hour, I couldn’t get a car at all. Walking down the street, I scanned a bike-share bicycle. Getting on it, I remembered two years ago when Adrian personally taught me to ride. Back then, I never would have imagined there’d be a day when I’d ride a bike to deliver condoms to him and another woman. I rode as fast as I could to the adult store, then headed to the nightclub. The sky suddenly started drizzling. I had no choice but to pedal desperately. Finally, right on time, I pushed open the private room door at the 29-minute mark. I was soaked through, my face pale, my lower abdomen aching faintly. I pulled the bag from inside my clothes and walked to Adrian. “Transfer the money.” Adrian took the bag and promptly transferred the money. “You really are willing to do anything for money. I transferred three hundred thousand-the extra is my compensation for sleeping with you these three years.” I ignored Adrian’s words. I’d already decided to leave, so I wouldn’t hold any more expectations for him. Now, except for money, nothing else mattered to me. Summer laughed lightly beside him. “Girls from ordinary families just can’t be presented in society. As long as someone gives you money, you’d sleep with anyone, right?” Hearing Summer’s words, the other men in the room all turned their gazes on me. Those naked stares made me feel sick. “How come I never noticed Joanna had such a good figure before?” “Adrian’s got Summer now-why not let us have some fun with her?” “Hahaha, a woman a billionaire’s had-just thinking about it is exciting!” Adrian’s expression darkened. He grabbed a glass from the table and smashed it at the feet of the jeering men. The glass shards cut several men’s faces, but not one dared dodge. “Shut up!” Adrian turned to look at me, picked up his jacket, and draped it over me to block the others’ gazes. “Joanna, who are you trying to seduce looking like that? Can’t live without a man? Can’t get money from me so you’re sizing up other targets?” I instinctively protested: “I didn’t. I rode a bike here. It’s raining outside…” Summer, sitting on the sofa, took a sip of wine and spoke softly. “It’s raining and you don’t know to have the driver take you or call a car? You deliberately rode a bike here-trying to scheme against Adrian like you did three years ago?” Three years ago, it was also a rainy day. I didn’t have an umbrella and got drenched like a drowned rat hiding at a bus stop. That very bedraggled appearance made Adrian fall for me at first sight. I looked at Adrian’s darkened face, knowing nothing I said would help. “Joanna, three years and you haven’t even upgraded your tactics? You really take me for a complete fool?” Adrian gripped my chin tightly, using so much force he nearly crushed my bones. I was pregnant, and combined with intense exercise and the rain, I was already at my limit. After a sharp pain in my lower abdomen, I lost consciousness. In the last moment before losing consciousness, I saw the blood spreading on my pants. Adrian completely panicked. “Get the car! To the hospital! Hurry!”

Joanna POV When I woke again, I was in the hospital. Adrian sat by my bed, tightly gripping my hand. Seeing me awake, Adrian quickly picked up the water cup and brought it to my lips. I turned my head away, my voice hoarse. “Where’s the baby?” Adrian showed a regretful expression. “Joanna, we’ll have another child.” I closed my eyes. Two lines of tears fell from the corners of my eyes. There would be no “next time.” Perhaps it was better the baby was gone. Rather than being born into an incomplete, unhappy family, better to be reborn into a good home. I don’t know how much time passed before I opened my eyes and looked at Adrian. “Adrian, did you ever love me?” I paused. “Or rather, do you really think I approached you for money?” Adrian froze for a second, then held my hand. “Joanna, of course I love you. Even if you approached me for money, it doesn’t matter. The baby’s gone. Can we erase the past and start over?” “What about Summer?” “Summer and I grew up together.” Adrian pressed his face tightly against my palm. “I love you and I love her, but don’t worry-you’ll always be Mrs. Blackwood. I’ll only have you two women, not like others in our circle with so many women.” Looking at the man before me, the last beautiful memory related to him in my heart collapsed. I understood. Adrian believed I approached him only for money. Now that the baby was gone, he’d decided to magnanimously forgive my past “scheming.” I couldn’t understand how someone could be so hypocritical, making infidelity sound so refreshing and sanctimonious. Summer entered the room. I seized the opportunity to pull my hand from Adrian’s. “Am I interrupting you two?” Summer stood at the door with sarcasm. Before Adrian could react, she spoke again. “I checked the hospital records. Yesterday morning you just had a prenatal checkup, so how come by evening you knowingly rode a bike in the rain while pregnant?” Adrian’s expression instantly darkened, his scrutinizing gaze sweeping over me. “Was it an accident…” Summer paused, then smiled meaningfully. “Or did you not want this baby and deliberately do this to frame me?” Summer walked forward and threw the documents in her hand into Adrian’s lap. “Look carefully. This crude tactic might fool Adrian, but it can’t fool me.” Adrian flipped through the documents, then looked up with a complex expression. “Do you have anything to say?” I opened my mouth but ultimately said nothing. What could I say? That the driver had finished work? That you couldn’t get a car in the villa district at dawn? Or that Mother was in the ICU and I desperately needed money? No matter how much I explained, in their eyes it would all just be excuses. My phone suddenly lit up. I opened the message. “Joanna, your mother’s condition is very poor. The account funds are depleted. If you wish to continue treatment, please pay promptly.” I immediately transferred the three hundred thousand Adrian had given me to the hospital account, then put down my phone and grinned at Adrian. “Yes, I did it deliberately. You and Summer are perfectly matched. Of course I need to make room for her. Considering how hard I worked and risked half my life, can you give me some money? A million dollars would be enough.” Adrian’s brow furrowed tightly, veins bulging on his forehead. “Joanna, you’re so money-crazy you’d even trade our child for cash?” “It was a life, after all. If you’re unwilling, would Summer be willing to pay?” It didn’t matter anymore-however Adrian saw me didn’t matter. I only needed money now. I had no time to contact Mrs. Blackwood. Even casting aside all dignity, as long as I could get money, I’d do anything. Summer placed her hand on Adrian’s to comfort him, indicating he should leave everything to her. Adrian silently stepped back, his eyes still fixed on me. “Want money? Of course you can have it. Though I don’t need you to make room for me-what’s mine will always be mine, not yours to give. But you did look after Adrian for three years. A million isn’t expensive.” Summer’s tone changed. “But I’m not as soft-hearted as Adrian. If you want money, you’ll have to pay a price.” “What price?” “Blackwood Corporation’s amusement park in New York is about to open. We need someone to personally test the extreme rides. Are you willing to contribute to the company?” I had no room to refuse. I changed clothes and went with them to the amusement park. Looking at the various high-altitude projects, my legs trembled uncontrollably, my face white as paper. When I was young, I was bullied by classmates who made me ride a roller coaster over a hundred times consecutively. Though my life wasn’t at risk, that rapid rising and falling sensation of weightlessness became a nightmare I could never forget. After marriage, Adrian discovered my unusual fear of heights and took me to see famous psychologists. Every time I woke from nightmares, he’d pull me into his arms to comfort me. I instinctively cast a pleading look toward Adrian, but only saw his cold eyes. I forced down my fear and looked at Summer with forced composure. “Transfer the money first.” Summer sneered. “You really will do anything for money. I’ll transfer five hundred thousand first. When all the projects are finished, I’ll transfer the remaining five hundred thousand.” I saw the notification of five hundred thousand arriving on my phone, nodded, and walked toward the tallest roller coaster and got on. As I was checking the safety measures, a roaring sound rang in my ears-the equipment had been started! Though it was only a dozen seconds, it felt incredibly long. The powerful airflow scraped my skin like sandpaper, my brain rapidly filling with blood. In a daze, I seemed to see Adrian proposing to me years ago. He knelt on one knee in the flower field and put a ring he’d made himself on my finger. Back and forth like this, I don’t know how many times. Finally stopping on the ground, I collapsed, unable to stop dry heaving. A staff member walked up to me. “Joanna, Adrian and Summer have already left. I’m in charge of the subsequent project testing. Each test will be fully videotaped. Can you continue?” I wiped away the blood seeping from my fingertips from gripping too hard and stood up supporting myself on the railing. “Let’s continue.”

Joanna POV Three hours later, I dragged my body, which had reached its limit, back to the villa. The villa’s main gate was tightly closed. I used my last bit of strength to press the doorbell, then uncontrollably slid to the ground. One minute… two minutes… ten minutes… No one opened the door for me. The electronic doorbell made a rustling sound as the camera turned toward my direction. “Joanna, Summer set a curfew. After nine o’clock, no one is allowed in or out. Find somewhere else to rest tonight.” After a beep, the sound completely disappeared, and the camera returned to its original position. My spirit, which I’d been forcing to hold together, reached its limit. Scenes related to Adrian flashed through my mind like a slideshow. On the manor lawn, Adrian once held me in his arms teaching me to weave flower crowns. By the Trevi Fountain in Rome, he and I threw coins together, making a wish to heaven for a lifetime together. I remembered again how Adrian fought the family elders for me that day, ultimately being severely whipped until bloody and mangled, yet still forcing a smile to comfort me. And the first time I was pregnant, the way he was genuinely happy from his heart, as if he wanted to give me the whole world. After the child was lost, he barely smiled for a whole year. The scene shifted, and I saw Adrian in the nightclub gripping my chin, humiliating me to the extreme. Tears flowed unconsciously. I seemed to have grown accustomed to this pain. If I could be given another chance, I wouldn’t want to fall in love with Adrian again. I completely lost consciousness and fainted outside the villa gate. Early the next morning, the servants woke me at the door. I swayed as I walked into the villa. I felt feverish all over, single-mindedly wanting only to get my luggage and leave the Blackwood home. Halfway up the stairs, I encountered Summer coming out of the bedroom. Summer wore only one of Adrian’s shirts. The red marks on her neck and chest all proclaimed how intense their night had been. I knew what she meant but didn’t want to pay attention. But Summer blocked my way first. “Joanna, you really have no shame. Even like this, you still want to stay by Adrian’s side?” Summer mocked in a voice only the two of us could hear. “I thought you’d have figured it out last night and wouldn’t have the face to come back.” Her finger slid toward the kiss marks on her body. “Adrian’s heart no longer has you in it. Or rather, he never loved you. From beginning to end, you were just my substitute.” I slowly raised my head, looked Summer in the eye, and said, “Excuse me. You’re in my way.” I wouldn’t show weakness before Summer. Regardless of her reaction, I strode to the room where I’d left my luggage. In my suitcase was a doll my father had made for me with his own hands. This was the only keepsake he’d left me. I had to take it. The moment I stood up, my vision went black. I steadied myself against the wardrobe for a while before returning to normal. During this time, I seemed to hear a scream from downstairs. I shook my head and carried my suitcase downstairs. Whatever happened had nothing to do with me anymore. As soon as I reached the living room, I saw Summer holding her arm with red, swollen eyes, leaning in Adrian’s embrace. Adrian’s face was dark. Seeing me, he immediately ordered the bodyguards: “Grab her!” Before I could react, a huge force came from behind my legs. My legs gave way and I knelt on the ground. The next second, my head was pressed firmly to the floor, and my lips were cut by my teeth, seeping blood. “Adrian, I just asked her a couple questions about where she went last night. I didn’t expect her to do this to me.” “She scattered nails in the living room! If I hadn’t reacted quickly, the nails would have pierced my foot instead of just scratching my arm!” I looked up in disbelief. “What nails? I didn’t!” The next second, the bodyguard searched me. Soon, he pulled out a dozen nails from my pocket. Adrian’s face darkened. “What do you have to say now?” I immediately looked at Summer. It was her! She was the one who stuffed them in my pocket on the stairs! I struggled desperately. “It wasn’t me! It was Summer-she framed me!” Adrian didn’t even give me a glance. He turned and carried Summer to the hospital, pausing at the door. “Even now you don’t know to repent. Since you like playing dirty tricks, take her to the basement for punishment.” “Count carefully for me. If it’s not a hundred lashes, you’ll make up the rest.”

Joanna POV I screamed until my voice was hoarse, but no one stopped. The bodyguards took me to the basement of the Blackwood estate-a place specifically for punishing people. On the cold concrete floor sat a punishment rack, still bearing bloodstains from the previous victim. Tremendous fear enveloped me. After these hundred lashes, I’d probably be torn to shreds. I desperately hugged a bodyguard’s thigh, shaking my head constantly. “I’m Adrian’s wife. You can’t do this to me. He’s just angry with me temporarily. If you really do this, he’ll hold you accountable later.” I had no confidence at all, but this identity was the only thing I had left to offer. “Let me go, please. I can give you money, as much as you want.” But the bodyguard completely ignored my words, only raising his hand to point at the surveillance camera in the upper right corner. “Joanna, don’t make things difficult for us. The boss has already given the order. The entire basement has complete surveillance coverage. We’re just following orders.” My hand dropped limply as I allowed the bodyguard to tie me to the rack. The rough whip fell mercilessly. Intense pain instantly swept through my entire body. My whole back was struck without mercy. My face instantly turned pale, cold sweat streaming from my forehead. I couldn’t help curling up, but it only brought me greater pain. At first, I could still feel the pain, even wishing I could pass out immediately. But soon, I lost all perception of my body, as if my soul had left and was watching this cruel punishment indifferently. The massive blood loss made me feel an exhaustion from deep within my body. I even felt it would be good if I just fell asleep like this. I don’t know how much time passed. In a daze, I felt someone lifting me up. The restraints that had bound my wrists and ankles disappeared. The smell in the air became pungent. Many people in white clothes seemed to be constantly moving before my eyes. After that, I couldn’t remember anything clearly. When I regained consciousness again, my entire body was wrapped in gauze. I couldn’t move at all. The nurse making rounds noticed my movement and immediately called a doctor. The doctor shone a flashlight in my eyes twice, looked at the monitoring equipment indicators, and spoke to me. “You lost too much blood. Although we’ve given you a transfusion, you definitely won’t recover quickly. We’ve applied medicine to your wounds, but you need to be prepared. The wounds are too large. They’ll definitely scar.” I blinked to indicate I understood. “We couldn’t contact your family, but the person who brought you left sufficient funds in your account. Don’t worry. Rest and recover. You can be discharged in about two weeks.” I lay in the hospital for three days before I could finally get out of bed and move around. During this time, Adrian didn’t visit me once, but Summer hired a caregiver for me. Hospital life was boring. Every day I just stared at the ceiling or listened to sounds from the next room. The next room housed a newly married young couple. Because the wife had signs of threatened miscarriage, they’d been staying in the hospital for observation. Their room was always lively, with many visitors every day. They even sent me fruit twice. A child would be happy in such a family. Two weeks passed quickly. After the doctor checked my condition, he approved my discharge application. Before leaving, I wanted to see what my “fellow patient” next door actually looked like. I walked to the hospital room door. What I saw made me freeze in place as if struck by lightning. That couple I’d always thought was happy-it was Adrian and Summer. The happy family I’d envied all this time, even hoping my lost child would be reborn into- It was my husband and another woman. Just one wall apart. Adrian came to the hospital every day but never visited me once. Summer, lying in Adrian’s embrace inside the room, casually glanced at me by the door. First showing a bit of surprise, she then revealed a victor’s smile. I don’t know how I walked out of the hospital. I mechanically hailed a taxi, went back for my luggage, and picked up the divorce agreement Mrs. Blackwood had given me. Then I went to the airport, bought a ticket, and went through security. The whole process went smoothly, without a trace of hesitation. As if going faster would prevent the pain from catching up with me. Three hours later, I got off the plane in a small southern city. Feeling the air’s moisture so different from New York’s, I couldn’t help but redden my eyes. I was free.

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After three years of marriage, I finally got pregnant with his child. But on the day I wanted to surprise him, I overheard a conversation coming from his office. He’d been keeping a mistress in his friend’s villa for three whole years. I turned and fled, sharp pain shooting through my abdomen, blood running down my legs. When I woke up, the baby was gone. He begged me. “Rachel is pregnant. Let her have the child, and you can raise it, okay?” He didn’t know our child was already gone. I smiled and nodded, handing him the divorce papers. He signed without even looking, then rushed off to be with that woman. A month later, I boarded a plane and left. Before takeoff, I sent him a photo of my scarred body: “I’m setting you both free. From now on, we owe each other nothing.” That day, my plane “crashed into the sea.” Later I heard he knelt at my grave for three days. But he didn’t know that I was never on that plane. Lily POV In the third year of my marriage to Sebastian Laurent, I got pregnant. After the pregnancy was confirmed, I couldn’t wait to go to his company to share the good news with him in person. Everyone at Laurent Corporation knew me. Wanting to surprise him, I slipped in without having anyone announce my arrival. When I reached the CEO’s office door, my hand fell on the handle. Before I could push it open, I suddenly heard two male voices coming through the slightly ajar door. Sebastian’s best friend, Marcus, said, “The nanny taking care of Rachel says she’s been causing a lot of trouble lately.” Rachel? That name hit my ears like a thunderbolt, exploding in my mind. My expression froze instantly. The name Rachel wasn’t unfamiliar to me. Before Sebastian and I got married, I had spent two years abroad receiving medical treatment. During those two years, a woman who resembled me somewhat appeared by Sebastian’s side. That woman was Rachel. But hadn’t Sebastian sent Rachel away with money after I came back? Not only did Sebastian not send Rachel away, he’d hidden her in a villa under his best friend’s name for three whole years? My mind went blank. My hands unconsciously gripped the hem of my clothes as I held my breath. Then I heard Sebastian’s voice from inside the office, “What’s she fussing about?” “Rachel says you haven’t been to see her in a long time. She wants to know where she stands. If you don’t care about her anymore, then go tell her straight up so she can move on and let you be with your true love.” Sebastian frowned slightly. “I’ve been busy lately, and Lily hasn’t been feeling well. I need to stay with her. Rachel has a temper-let her make a fuss. Just have the nanny take good care of her.” “But you’ve hidden Rachel in my villa for three years.” Marcus sounded puzzled. “How long are you planning to keep hiding her?” Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. “Lily can’t accept Rachel’s existence. I have no choice but to let her stay in the villa under your name.” “But you can’t hide her forever, right? Aren’t you worried that one day Lily will find out Rachel was never sent away?” Sebastian’s tone carried a warning edge. “As long as you keep your mouth shut around Lily, she’ll never know.” “Of course I won’t say anything to Lily.” Marcus paused. “But didn’t you originally just treat Rachel as Lily’s substitute? You and Lily have been married all this time-why are you still hiding Rachel instead of sending her away?” Sebastian’s brow furrowed. Marcus probed, “Are you reluctant to let go of Rachel as a substitute?” Sebastian remained cryptic, silent for a long while before speaking. “When Lily was being treated abroad, Rachel was the one by my side. She once cried and told me she couldn’t imagine never seeing me again. She can’t leave me. If she left, her life would fall apart.” “So because Rachel can’t leave you, you’re hiding her… what about Lily?” “Lily is the one who accompanied me from nothing to success. Without her companionship and support all those years, there might not be the me of today. She’s always been my spiritual pillar. I love her more than I love myself, so she will always be Mrs. Laurent.” Outside the office door, I felt like I’d instantly fallen from heaven into hell, my whole body frozen as if plunged into ice. My face turned deathly pale as I turned and fled in panic. When I passed the secretarial department, I made a point of saying, “Don’t tell Sebastian I was here.” “Uh, okay, Mrs. Laurent.” I stumbled out of Laurent Corporation, walking dazed through the busy streets. In my mind, the words from that office conversation kept repeating. My eyes reddened, my vision blurring with tears. My chest felt like it had been torn open by a sharp blade, leaving a gaping, bloody wound. My heart seemed to bleed, and tears flowed uncontrollably. After walking in this lost state for who knows how long, a sharp, dropping pain suddenly shot through my abdomen. The pain came urgently and fiercely, as if someone was tearing my flesh apart. I had to stop, trembling hands covering my lower abdomen, cold sweat beading on my forehead. A warm liquid slowly trickled down the inside of my thighs. Terror instantly engulfed me. “Baby…” I frantically pulled out my phone. My vision became blurry from pain and tears, but I didn’t call Sebastian. Instead, I dialed emergency services. “Help… I’m at…” Before I could finish, intense dizziness struck. Amid the startled cries of passersby, my consciousness faded into darkness.

Lily POV When I woke again, I was in a hospital room filled with the smell of disinfectant. The doctor stood by the bed, looking at me with regret. “Mrs. Laurent, I’m very sorry. Although we did our best, because you have a pre-existing heart condition and suffered extreme emotional distress, the baby… couldn’t be saved.” Couldn’t be saved… Those words hammered into my heart like a sledgehammer. I forced myself through my physical weakness, trembling hands moving to my now-flat abdomen. A tiny life had been growing there, but now only desolate emptiness remained. This was the first child Sebastian and I had conceived together. More than once, he had gently stroked my belly and asked, “When will you give me a baby?” Sebastian loved children and really wanted to have one with me. Now I was finally pregnant, but this child we’d waited so long for had left me before even seeing the world-all because of his betrayal. Was it because of that woman named Rachel? Or because of Sebastian, full of lies? The overwhelming grief left me unable to even cry. My precious baby, I’m sorry. Mommy didn’t protect you… After the D&C procedure, I declined the suggestion to stay for observation. Forcing myself up, I went to a law firm and had a lawyer draft divorce papers. After finishing this, I returned to Maple Bridge Villa in a daze, barely remembering the journey. I collapsed onto the bedroom bed, my chaotic thoughts filled with memories of Sebastian and me. Sebastian and I had been attracted to each other since high school and became a couple in college. In our most innocent years, we fell in love and shared the most beautiful campus days. During the hardest period when he was starting his business, we ate cheap sandwiches together, lived in dark, cramped rental apartments, and on the coldest winter days, we held each other tight for warmth. I accompanied him through wind and rain, through the most difficult and struggling times, without a single complaint. All our friends envied our relationship back then. Until five years ago, when Sebastian finally became a rising tech star in the industry, famous and successful. At the same time, I was diagnosed with heart disease. Sebastian arranged for me to have surgery at the best hospital abroad. Because the company kept him too busy, he could only occasionally find time to visit me overseas. But I never imagined that during those two years when we were apart, Sebastian met Rachel. I remembered the first time I learned of Rachel’s existence, three years ago, after I returned home from treatment. I cried. I made scenes. I couldn’t believe that the man I’d walked through so much with had another woman by his side during those two years while I was having surgery. At the time, Sebastian explained anxiously, “I just love you too much, Lily. The days without you by my side felt endless, so I let a woman who resembled you stay near me.” He said he only treated Rachel as my substitute, that he had no feelings for her whatsoever, and that I was the only one he’d ever loved. He said he would give Rachel money and send her away, that he wouldn’t let her existence affect our relationship. I believed him. But instead, he’d hidden Rachel in a villa under his best friend’s name. He’d been hiding her for three whole years. If I hadn’t overheard it myself, I’d probably still be in the dark. I probably still wouldn’t know that the man who carefully hid Rachel away was the same one who swore eternal devotion to me and claimed to have no feelings for Rachel. Suddenly, my phone chimed with a message notification. It was from Sebastian. “Lily, I have to go on a business trip for a couple days. Remember to eat and sleep well, and I’ll bring you back a gift.” Reading this message, my eyes reddened. I suddenly recalled all those previous times Sebastian went on “business trips.” Those so-called business trips were probably to see Rachel, weren’t they? How ridiculous that I only realized this today. The next day, while getting a follow-up exam and medication at the hospital, I unexpectedly ran into Sebastian. Meeting me without warning, Sebastian froze for a moment. “Lily… what are you doing at the hospital?” I didn’t answer. Instead, my gaze fell on his hand nervously and carefully supporting Rachel. Sebastian quickly let go of Rachel. “Lily, it’s not what it looks like. Let me explain…” I gave a faint smile, said nothing, and turned to leave. Sebastian stood stunned, his heart tightening, wanting to chase after me. But Rachel grabbed his arm, her whole body going soft and boneless against him. “Sebastian, my stomach hurts so much…”

Lily POV Held back by Rachel, Sebastian ultimately didn’t chase after me. It wasn’t until evening that he returned to Maple Bridge Villa. Knowing he could no longer hide the truth about Rachel, he gave a brief, glossed-over confession about the fact that Rachel had actually been in the area all these years. I listened quietly without asking a single question. My silence made Sebastian uneasy. “Lily, I know I didn’t handle this well. I apologize, but the child is innocent.” The child? Just as I thought Sebastian had discovered my unfortunate miscarriage. I heard him continue in a grave tone, “I know you can’t accept Rachel’s existence, but she’s pregnant with my child now. If you agree to let her have the baby, I’ll send her away afterward no matter what.” My heart trembled. I looked at him sharply. “Rachel is pregnant with your child?” Sebastian’s expression was complex. “Just today. We just found out.” It was like cold water dumped over my head. My whole body went cold from the inside out. “Lily, you know I love children, but after all these years together, we still don’t have a child of our own.” “So what? Because you love children, you want Rachel to have your baby?” “I’ve thought it through. Once this child is born, you can raise it as our child together.” He wanted me to raise the child he had with another woman? I stared at him in disbelief, finding it utterly absurd. He didn’t know that just yesterday, we had also had a child. But that child that belonged to us had become nothing but dead blood because of his betrayal. And now he wanted me to accept the bastard born by the woman who killed my child? I asked incredulously, “What about Rachel then?” “After she gives birth, I’ll give her money to leave. She’ll never appear in our world again.” But three years ago, he’d said the same thing to me. By now, I didn’t know which of his words were true and which were lies. Sebastian said seriously, “As long as you agree to let her have this child, I’ll compensate you. You can have anything you want.” It seemed he really wanted to keep this child. Even if I refused, he’d probably hide Rachel and let her have the baby anyway, just like three years ago, right? I smiled, though my eyes reddened. I nodded. “Okay, I agree to let her have this child.” Seeming surprised I’d agreed so readily, Sebastian’s eyes first flashed with astonishment, then he hugged me joyfully and kissed my cheek. “Darling, you’re always so wonderful.” Hearing those words only filled me with irony. I pushed him away and retrieved a document from the nightstand drawer, flipping to the signature page and handing it to him. “I want this. Sign it.” “What is it?” I opened my mouth to answer, but his phone rang at that moment. From the corner of my eye, I saw it was Rachel calling. Sebastian hesitated for two seconds before answering. “What is it?” “Sebastian, the baby’s making my stomach uncomfortable. Can you come keep me company?” “Alright, I know.” After hanging up, Sebastian picked up a pen and signed his name on the document I’d handed him without even looking at it. “If you want something in the future, just use the card I gave you. You don’t need to specifically find me to sign for things.” After signing, Sebastian handed the document back to me. Finally, he placed a light kiss on my forehead. “I have something to take care of. I won’t be back tonight. Get some rest early.” I said nothing, silently putting the document away. Sebastian picked up his car keys and walked to the bedroom door. He suddenly seemed to remember something. Turning back, he asked with concern, “By the way, what were you doing at the hospital? You haven’t looked well all day.” I smiled without revealing anything. “I wasn’t feeling well, but it’s nothing serious. The doctor said I’ll be fine after resting for a couple days.” “That’s good. Tell me right away if you’re not feeling well. Don’t suffer alone, or I’ll worry.” Worry. Hearing those two words, I just wanted to laugh. He didn’t know we’d already had a child. He didn’t know that when we ran into each other at the hospital today, it was during my follow-up after my miscarriage. He didn’t know even more that the document he’d just signed was our divorce agreement. Soon, I would leave him forever.

Lily POV The next day, I delivered the signed divorce agreement to the lawyer. The lawyer put away the documents. “Next, we just need to wait through the one-month legal process. After a month, I’ll deliver the divorce certificate to you.” “Okay.” Leaving the law office, I returned to Maple Bridge Villa. As soon as I got out of the car, I saw two unfamiliar men carrying several suitcases into the villa. I froze. “Who are you? Whose suitcases are these?” I went inside and watched those two men carrying the suitcases upstairs. I was about to stop them when Sebastian’s voice called out from the living room. “Lily, perfect timing.” I stopped and turned around. Only then did I notice that not only was Sebastian sitting in the living room, but Rachel was sitting on the sofa beside him. Rachel greeted me with a sweet smile. “Hi, Lily.” I froze, my thoughts instantly going blank. Sebastian stood and walked over to me, saying in a low voice, “Rachel is pregnant and it’s not convenient for her to live in Marcus’s villa, so I’ve decided to have her move in here. This way I won’t have to run back and forth, and I can avoid neglecting you while taking care of her.” Maple Bridge Villa was the newlywed home we’d carefully chosen together. It was the love nest we’d personally selected and decorated, from location to furnishings. I never imagined he’d let Rachel move in without even asking me first. My heart went half cold. I wanted to say something. But then I thought that in a month I’d be leaving him completely anyway, and suddenly whether Rachel moved in or not didn’t seem so important. I nodded. “Okay, I understand.” I didn’t fight, make a scene, or question him. Sebastian seemed quite satisfied. “Don’t worry, she’s only staying until she has the baby. Once the baby’s born, I’ll have her leave.” With that, Sebastian took out a jewelry box from inside his suit jacket and handed it to me. His tone carried a note of compensation. “This is a bracelet I bought for you. As long as you can get along with her peacefully for the next ten months, I won’t let you suffer any grievances.” He thought a bracelet could compensate me and ease his own conscience. I found it mockingly amusing, but I still accepted the box. Rachel called out coquettishly from the living room, “Sebastian, I want to eat an apple. Come peel one for me, okay?” Sebastian frowned. “Ask the housekeeper to peel it for you.” “But you always used to peel fruit for me. Now that Lily’s here, are you just going to ignore me and the baby?” Rachel huffed with feigned displeasure. Sebastian was about to speak. I said flatly first, “Go keep her company. I’m not feeling well. I’m going to my room to rest. Have the housekeeper bring dinner to my room.” After that, I ignored them and went upstairs to the bedroom. Sebastian could tell I was in a bad mood and wanted to follow me to keep me company, but Rachel, using the baby as leverage, clung to him relentlessly. In the end, he could only hold back his steps. To avoid interacting with Rachel, I stayed in the bedroom with the door closed for several days. At first, Sebastian felt guilty and would come keep me company when he had time. But each time, he’d only stay less than ten minutes before Rachel would call him away with various excuses. And at night, in the deep quiet hours. Sitting on the balcony chair in my bedroom, I could always hear Sebastian reading prenatal stories to Rachel’s baby from the next room. Rachel asked him sweetly, “Sebastian, do you think our baby will look more like you or more like me?” “If it’s a boy, hopefully like me. If it’s a girl, I hope she looks more like you.” “Why do you hope a girl looks more like me?” “Because your eyes and mouth are beautiful. Your eyes are so alluring. If a girl takes after you, she’ll definitely grow up to be a lovely little beauty.” Their flirtatious laughter reached my ears and pierced my heart. I remembered Sebastian once told me that if we had children, he hoped a boy would take after him and a girl would look like me. I couldn’t help but think mockingly that Sebastian probably really did love children. But bringing Rachel here to live, serving her three meals a day, keeping her company and making her happy every night-was it really just for the child? That day, Sebastian went to the company. I was about to go downstairs to get some water when Rachel blocked my path in the hallway. Rachel smiled at me. “Lily, you haven’t left your bedroom in so many days. I was wondering if you were sick.” “I’m fine, thanks for your concern.” My tone was cold. I was about to walk away. Rachel’s gaze drifted to the purple bracelet on my wrist. “Speaking of which, I actually picked out that bracelet with Sebastian.” I froze. “What did you say?”

Lily POV Rachel lifted her hand and pulled down her sweater collar, revealing the necklace around her neck. That necklace was the same style and color as the bracelet on my wrist. Rachel smiled smugly. “Your bracelet was actually the free gift that came with my necklace. But Sebastian was afraid you wouldn’t accept it if you knew, so he told me not to wear this necklace in front of you.” A free gift? Enormous humiliation washed over me. The bracelet on my wrist suddenly felt like it was burning my skin. But more than that, the hickeys covering Rachel’s neck were even more jarring to my eyes. Rachel acted as if she’d only just realized, pulling her sweater back up in feigned panic. “Sorry, Lily. I forgot Sebastian was too rough last night and left a lot of marks. I didn’t mean to show them to upset you.” I didn’t expose her little act. As I turned to go downstairs, I yanked off the bracelet and threw it in the trash. I couldn’t help but recall how years ago, Sebastian had used his first earnings to buy me an expensive gemstone necklace. I thought the necklace was too expensive and felt bad about him spending so much money on me. But Sebastian told me I deserved all the best things, that no matter how expensive something was, I was worth it. Yet now, he’d given me Rachel’s free gift? I gulped down cold water in the kitchen, struggling for a long time to suppress the irony and absurdity spreading through my body and mind. Just then, a loud crash came from upstairs. Like porcelain shattering on the floor. My heart jumped with an inexplicably bad feeling. I quickly followed the sound upstairs to find a ceramic urn shattered into countless pieces on the floor, its ashes scattered everywhere. “What did you do?!” My pupils contracted violently. I rushed forward and shoved Rachel aside. Rachel stumbled back several steps, indignant. “It’s just a broken jar. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” “A broken jar?” I wanted to kill her right then. My eyes turned red as I advanced on Rachel, step by step. “Do you know what was in that jar? My parents’ ashes!” Rachel snorted coldly. “So what? It’s not like I knew.” My hands clenched tight, my breathing rapid. Rachel continued disdainfully, “Besides, the people are already dead. Keeping their ashes in the house is really unlucky.” Slap. Before she finished speaking, I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. Rachel’s face turned to the side. She covered her reddening cheek in disbelief. “You dare hit me?” I said word by word, “Apologize to my parents.” Rachel was about to open her mouth contemptuously when she caught sight of a car pulling up outside the villa. A cunning glint flashed in her eyes. She smiled coldly at me. “You believe me or not, Sebastian will make you pay for this slap?” Before I could react, Rachel suddenly grabbed both my hands. Then she yanked hard. The sensation of weightlessness instantly hit me. Completely unprepared, Rachel pulled me down the stairs. At the same time, Rachel tumbled down too. Sebastian’s terrified voice suddenly came from the doorway. “Lily… Rachel!” Falling from upstairs and rolling several times, after the world spun dizzyingly, my head slammed hard into the wall, my temple hitting the sharp corner. Pain made stars burst before my eyes. Blood immediately gushed from my forehead, staining half my face red. Seeing me injured and bleeding, Sebastian rushed over in a panic, wanting to pick me up. But from nearby came Rachel’s weak call, “Sebastian, my stomach…” Sebastian gasped, his pupils contracting in alarm. Immediately, he stopped caring about me and turned to go to Rachel instead. Through my dazed, blood-blurred vision, I saw his anxious back as he carried Rachel away. And Rachel, lying in his arms, gave me a provocative smile.

Lily POV The villa’s housekeeper found me and called an ambulance to take me to the hospital. When I woke up, Sebastian was sitting by the hospital bed. His expression was dark as he spoke. “I’ve had the housekeeper put your parents’ ashes in a new urn.” I said nothing, staring quietly at the ceiling above. Sebastian gazed at my bloodless face, his tone obscure and cold. “Rachel didn’t know beforehand that it was your parents’ urn. She broke it unintentionally, by accident.” “By accident?” Hearing those words, I finally turned my gaze toward him. “My parents’ urn was sitting there perfectly fine. How accidentally careless did she have to be to take it down from the mantle and smash it?” Sebastian frowned. “Either way, the ashes have been properly stored again. Besides, you nearly caused her to miscarry.” I froze. “I caused her to nearly miscarry?” “She accidentally broke your parents’ urn-that was her fault. But you slapped her, and that should have been enough. Did you really need to push her down the stairs in anger, and deliberately fall down yourself too?” Hearing this, I thought I must have misheard. Sebastian said coldly and heavily, “Although Rachel’s baby was saved, she suffered quite a shock. Go apologize to her.” “What did you say? You want me to apologize to Rachel?” “Just go apologize to her, and we can put this matter behind us.” His unquestionable attitude left me in utter disbelief. In the past, no matter what happened, Sebastian would unconditionally trust and indulge me. Even if I did something wrong, he never made me apologize to anyone, including himself. But now he wanted me to apologize to Rachel. None of this was my fault. Finally, I understood what Rachel meant when she said Sebastian would make me pay for that slap. I was so angry my emotions surged. “If you want me to apologize to her, dream on!” Sebastian’s expression grew even darker. “The baby in her belly was barely saved. The doctor said she needs to keep her emotions stable, but because you pushed her down the stairs, she’s badly shaken and can’t calm down. Just go apologize and say a few comforting words. I’ll compensate you afterward.” Compensation. Compensation again. I didn’t need any of his compensation. I no longer cared for his compensation. Rachel had staged all of this herself. Without even guessing, I knew her emotional instability was all an act. So I said firmly and stubbornly, “I will never humble myself to apologize to her. Give up on that idea!” Sebastian’s face turned stormy. “In that case, I’ll have to use more forceful measures.” I looked confused. “What are you going to do?” Sebastian’s face was frosty as he coldly called in two bodyguards and ordered, “Lock Mrs. Laurent in the cold storage. When she’s willing to apologize, let her out.” “Yes, sir.” The two bodyguards stepped forward. Under my shocked gaze, they grabbed me without a word, one on each side, and carried me out of the hospital room. My body and heart went cold. I used all my strength to resist and struggle. “Get away! Let go of me!” How could a woman’s strength match two burly bodyguards? Unable to break free, I trembled, my injured eyes red, my lips shaking. “Sebastian Laurent… how can you do this to me?””Lily, I just want to save the child in her belly. As long as you’re willing to obediently go apologize to her, you won’t have to suffer.” Sebastian’s expression remained unchanged, still cold as ice. My heart turned cold as iron, but I laughed instead. This was the man who said he would never let me suffer. This was the man who claimed to love me, who said he loved me more than he loved himself. I was locked in the hospital’s cold storage. Endless cold wrapped around me from head to toe, inside and out. I was so cold I curled up my hands and feet, shivering uncontrollably. Somehow, I found myself thinking of the most difficult days before Sebastian’s career took off. Neither Sebastian nor I came from wealthy families. Back when we were starting the business, we invested all our money into the company. We were so poor we could only live in a cheap rental apartment. That first winter was bitterly cold, and the house was damp and freezing. We lay in bed together. My feet were ice cold and wouldn’t warm up no matter what. Sebastian would let me put my feet on his belly to keep them warm. Back then, he always said, “Once the company gets on track, I’ll never let you suffer like this again.” For so many years after that, every winter, he’d still habitually let me warm my feet on his belly. But now, everything was different. He no longer belonged only to me. He’d even locked me in cold storage just to force me to apologize to another woman. Perhaps as far back as three years ago, after meeting Rachel, he was no longer the Sebastian I knew. When I was nearly losing consciousness from the cold, survival finally broke my stubborn pride. Using all my strength, I crawled to the cold storage door. I pounded hard on the firmly closed door. “I agree… I’ll apologize to her…”

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“How much was that ring of hers?” At my wedding, Michelle’s voice suddenly boomed through the speakers. Every guest in the hall immediately looked up at the sound system on both sides of the stage. Michael’s voice followed: “Six thousand.” “Only six thousand?” Michelle’s laughter was amplified by the microphone. “The one you bought me was a hundred and twenty thousand.” “How can they compare?” Michael coaxed. “Yours was custom-made just for you. Hers was something I won in a mall raffle.” Center stage, the champagne flute in my hand trembled. Every eye in the room fell on me, but I remained calm. Because I was the one who turned on that microphone. The hall was silent for exactly four seconds. After four seconds, my mom was the first to stand. “What is that?” She turned to look at my dad, then at Michael’s mother Ruth sitting at the head table. Ruth’s expression changed in that instant as she rapidly assessed the situation. The conversation from the speakers continued. Michelle’s voice became softer, as if she’d leaned close to someone’s ear, but the microphone faithfully picked up every syllable. “Did you think… she looked really fat in that wedding dress today?” Michael didn’t answer. Michelle continued: “There’s a roll of fat bulging at her waist. Standing next to her, even I felt uncomfortable for her.” Then Michael laughed. It was a quiet laugh, as if afraid of being heard, yet the sound system mercilessly amplified it. The crowd began to stir. Michael’s college friends were the first to react. A man in a gray suit rushed toward the sound booth, shouting at the sound engineer: “Turn it off! Turn it off now!” Sound engineer Bob looked up at him, then at me. I gave Bob a slight shake of my head. Bob didn’t move. The man in the gray suit shouted again, his voice cracking: “Are you deaf? Turn it off!” Bob said expressionlessly, “The bride told me not to.” The hall erupted. “She told you not to?” The man froze. I stood center stage and set down my champagne flute. Everyone was watching me—some shocked, some confused, some already recording video. My dad’s face was ashen, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. Ruth finally couldn’t sit still. She rose from behind the head table, her heels clicking an urgent rhythm on the floor. “Bob! I’m telling you to turn it off!” Bob looked at me. I still hadn’t nodded. He sat behind the mixing console, motionless. Ruth turned to me, forcing a strained smile. “Sophia, it’s a technical malfunction. Stop this nonsense.” I looked at her. “Please, sit down.” My voice was flat. “The show isn’t over yet.”

Twenty-one days ago, I was just as calm. The bridal shop was on the fourth floor of the downtown mall, called WEISS. Their prices started at thirty thousand. That afternoon at two o’clock, I was trying on my third wedding dress. In the full-length mirror, I could barely breathe from how tight it was. The white train was six feet long. Michelle was outside helping me with accessories, saying she’d ask the staff for a longer veil. I was in the dressing room trying to reach the zipper on my back. When I couldn’t, I pushed open the door to call her. Then I heard her voice. Behind a row of clothing racks, with her back to me, phone pressed to her ear. “Yeah… she’s trying them on now. Pretty ugly.” She laughed quietly. “Her waist has gotten so thick and she doesn’t even know it. I’m too embarrassed to say anything.” I stood behind the rack, silent. “Okay, okay, you pick the restaurant for tonight. I’ll come over after I finish helping her shop.” She hung up. I retreated to the dressing room and pulled the curtain closed again. My heartbeat pounded in my ears like drums. My first reaction wasn’t anger—it was confusion. Who was she talking to? Three minutes later, Michelle came back with a lace veil. “Sophia, try this one! It’s gorgeous!” I took it and smiled. “Where did you just go?” “To get the veil from the staff.” Her eyes showed not a ripple of emotion. I didn’t press further. But that evening when I got home, I opened Michael’s phone bill for the first time. He used a secondary card under my name. The bill came to my email every month. I’d never looked at it before. That night I went through six months of transaction records. I found three transfers that shouldn’t exist. One for forty-three thousand, noted “necklace.” One for twenty-seven thousand, noted “hotel.” One for a hundred and twenty thousand, noted “ring.” The hundred-twenty-thousand-dollar ring matched the number Michelle mentioned in the speakers exactly. In that moment, sitting on the living room couch, my face illuminated by the phone screen. Outside, the sound of traffic surged in waves. I suddenly felt that for the past three years, I’d been watching a play. And I was the only one who didn’t know the script.

I didn’t confront Michael immediately, nor did I call to curse out Michelle. The next day I took a half-day off and went to the building across from Michael’s office. Not to find him—to check the surveillance at the print shop across the street. Michael’s company was in a Financial District office building. Every day at noon he’d go downstairs to eat. I wanted to see who he ate with. The print shop owner took two hundred dollars from me and let me watch a month’s worth of door surveillance footage. Day one: Michael went downstairs alone, went to the noodle shop next door. Day three: Michael came out with a woman. I zoomed in on the image. Michelle. She was wearing the beige trench coat I’d given her for her birthday last year, arm-in-arm with Michael as they walked into the Western restaurant next door. I kept scrolling. In one month, they’d eaten lunch together eleven times. Eleven times! Michael and I had dated for three years, got engaged, and the number of times he’d eaten lunch with me—I could count them on one hand. He always said he was busy, that he could only grab something simple at the office for lunch. I’d even bought him a case of self-heating rice, told him to keep it in his office so he wouldn’t always eat instant noodles. He said, “Baby, you’re so good to me.” What happened to that case of self-heating rice? I don’t know. But I knew that those eleven Western restaurant bills were all charged to his secondary card—in other words, my money. I screenshot all the records and saved them to a new encrypted album. I named the album “Wedding Materials.” From that day on, I began another kind of life. Working during the day, investigating at night. On the surface, I was still that busy bride-to-be preparing for her wedding. Discussing bridesmaid dress colors with Michelle, tasting menu options with Michael, arranging seating with Ruth. On the third day, I found a pattern in Michael’s Twitter activity. Every Thursday night he’d appear at a residential complex in the east part of the city. The complex was called Love. Average price: twenty-eight thousand per square foot. I looked up the property ownership information. Building 7, Unit 1402. Owner: Michelle. Purchase date: Eleven months ago. Down payment: Six hundred and seventy thousand. Six hundred and seventy thousand. Michael’s year-end bonus last year was seven hundred and twenty thousand. He told me his take-home bonus was only three hundred and fifty thousand after the company deducted taxes and insurance. The extra three hundred and seventy thousand, plus the miscellaneous expenses he’d charged to the secondary card each month, added up to exactly the down payment for this apartment. I stared at the numbers on the screen for a long time. Then I closed my phone and washed my face. My eyes in the mirror were dry—not a single tear. Not because I wasn’t hurt—because my tears weren’t worthy. My tears weren’t worthy of being shed for people like this.

On day seven, I went to Michael’s house. The purpose was simple: to test Ruth. Before retirement, Ruth had been a department store floor manager. Sharp as they come. Michael’s entire social life was arranged by her. Even what we ate on our first date—she decided that. She said Michael was shy and needed her help. That afternoon, Ruth was cutting fruit in the kitchen while I flipped through photo albums on the coffee table in the living room. “What do you think about this dessert table for the reception? Should we switch to this two-tier one?” “Sure, whatever you think.” I changed the subject: “By the way, Michelle said she wants to read something at the wedding. What do you think?” “Michelle?” Ruth’s knife paused. “Yeah, she’s my best friend.” Ruth didn’t turn around, continued cutting fruit. “Well… you decide.” There was a hint of discomfort in her tone. I continued: “I think Michelle’s dating someone. Did you know?” Ruth’s knife finally stopped. She turned to look at me, her smile somewhat stiff. “How would I know about that? You young people and your business.” Her right index finger rubbed against the back of the knife. I’d known Ruth for three years. That gesture meant she was nervous. “Sophia, the fruit’s ready. Take it over.” She changed the subject, but her reaction had already given me the answer. She knew. That evening, I left Michael’s house early, sat in my car, and called Natasha. Natasha was my other college roommate, now working at a law firm. “Natasha, I need you to help me check something.” “What?” “The names on the purchase contract for Michael’s and my wedding apartment.” “You don’t know?” Natasha’s voice paused. “I put down seventy percent of the down payment, but Ruth took the contract the day we signed. She said she’d keep it safe for us.” Natasha was silent for three seconds. “Sophia, hold on.” The next afternoon, Natasha sent me the search results. Only one name on the purchase contract: Michael. Out of the two-million-one-hundred-thousand down payment, I’d contributed one million five hundred thousand. But my name wasn’t on the deed—and I’d always thought both our names were on it. Because the day we signed, I watched Michael write down my name with my own eyes. But what did Ruth do after “safekeeping the contract”? I didn’t know, but I could guess. That night I couldn’t sleep. Not because of anger, not because of sadness. Because I was thinking about one thing: how long had they been scheming against me? From the very beginning? From the day Michael met me through Michelle? At 2 AM, I pulled up our chat history from three years ago. Back then, Michelle had enthusiastically introduced Michael to me. “Sophia! I have a classmate who’s perfect for you! Handsome, good family background, works as an analyst at a financial firm!” That message was from three years and seven months ago. And Michelle’s secondary phone card activation date—I’d checked it yesterday—was three years and nine months ago. They’d been together two months before Michael and I got together. In other words, Michael was with Michelle first, then met me through Michelle. And Michelle personally introduced her own boyfriend to me. Why? The answer was in the first transaction on Michael’s secondary card. Three years ago, Michael’s first secondary card purchase was at a high-end club. Note: Sergio’s welcome banquet. Sergio is my dad. This relationship was a business transaction from day one.

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