Category: English

My mother was the proud Luna of the Blood River Pack, but she died as a breeding slave in the mud of the Rogue Territory. From the moment I can remember, all I see is her belly. Swollen, then empty, then swollen again. By the time I am barely tall enough to reach the wash basin, I am already hauling water, feeding pigs, scrubbing blood out of birthing sheets. She dies on the straw mat. And the moment that Rogue bastard realizes he cannot squeeze another coin out of her body, his yellow eyes turn on me. I run. I tear out of that village and onto the main road, and that is where I meet him. The father I have never seen. His scent hits me first. Alpha. Pure-blood. He stares at my face. His pupils shrink to slits. Because I look exactly like her. “I was just coming to find you,” he says, voice smooth as poured whiskey. “My mate Rose and I, we already have our daughter, our little Rosie. One pup is enough for us. But I am the Alpha. I need a son. An heir. And Rose is too delicate to go through another pregnancy. How could I let my Luna suffer like that?” His eyes flick down my body. Bones. Bruises. Dirt. “Your mother was always known for being a good breeder. If she gives Rose a son this time, I will bring you both back to the Pack House. What she did to Rose all those years ago, I will forgive it.” I look past him. At the woman in the carriage window, all soft curls and silk. At the little girl in her lap, plump and pink. A perfect Luna. A perfect pup. I laugh until I cry. “Then come with me,” I whisper. “Alpha.” The carriage smells like roses and old money. Rose, Luna Rose, hands me a stack of rough beggar’s linen and smiles like she is doing me a favor. “The caravan only packed coarse clothing for the help,” she sighs, stroking little Rosie’s curls. “Rosie’s dresses are all imported silk. She does not like anyone else touching them.” I look up. Her eyes glitter. Triumph. Mockery. But I am not angry. I am just stunned. So even the beggars in the Pack House get fabric this thick? No wonder my mother used to whisper about home like it was heaven. Rosie peeks out from her mother’s arms, fat little fingers wrapped around an amber bead. Her nails are trimmed. Pink. Healthy. I look at my own hands. Bones. Calluses. Dirt jammed so deep under my nails it will never wash out. “Hmph.” The Alpha’s voice cuts through the carriage. “You were supposed to grow up like her. Silk and silver, in the Pack House. But your mother was too stubborn to bow her head, and she dragged you into the wild for ten years. Now that you are back, you will treat your little sister with respect.” I lift my eyes. Crack a dry smile. “Sister? Which number sister is she?” His brow snaps together. “What the hell are you talking about? You do not have other sisters.” “Sure I do.” I tug the corner of my mouth higher. “Half the pups in that village are my brothers and sisters. I just need to figure out the birth order.” His face goes white. Then red. “You little liar! Ten years gone and you have turned into your mother. Mouth full of poison!” His eyes drag down my skeletal frame, disgust curling his lip. “You are a daughter of Alpha Sloan. How are you this thin? And what was that rag you came in wearing? Like something dragged out of a swamp.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I send silver to that village every single year. More than enough to keep you both fed and clothed. Where did your mother piss it all away? When I see her, I am going to have words.” I smile bitterly. Silver? That Rogue bastard gambled every coin away. If my mother had not starved herself to keep me alive, the Alpha would not even have these bones to look at. “She is already dead,” I say. Light. Floating. SLAP. My head cracks against the carriage wall. My temple splits. Blood runs hot down my cheek. “You wicked pup! How dare you curse your own mother!” I turn my head slowly. Look him dead in the eye. “She is dead.” “That Rogue thought she was taking too long to whelp. So he used a wooden rolling pin and pressed down on her belly until she burst. Her intestines came out on the floor.” A boot slams into my chest. I fly out of the carriage door.

I hit the dirt and roll. The wheel grinds over my ankle. Bone crunches. My vision blacks at the edges. The carriage stops. The Alpha, my father, what a joke, steps out and looks down at me like I am something his boot scraped up. “You filthy little liar. That Rogue is my sworn brother! He took a blade for me on the battlefield! You and your mother were under his protection. He would never do that to you. If you are going to lie, at least make it believable!” He pauses. His voice softens, but only into something worse. That tired, disappointed tone. “All your mother had to do was come back. Bow her head once. I would have forgiven everything. Ten years she had. She has hands. She has feet. Even if she had to crawl, she should have crawled her way back by now. She is just still angry. Still punishing me.” Thunder cracks overhead. Rain starts hammering down. I lie in the mud, blood and water mixing on my face, and I start to laugh. Legs. Legs. A breeding slave does not need legs. They cut hers off years ago. How exactly was she supposed to crawl across a thousand miles of forest with no hands and no feet? From the time I could remember, that Rogue rented my mother out. One pup, a few sacks of grain. A litter, a handful of coin. She refused. He beat her. She still refused. Then he grabbed me by the throat and held a silver blade to my heart. And my Luna, my proud, beautiful Luna mother, dropped to her knees. Every night I curled up in the goat shed and watched the line of males trail in and out of her door. I heard the sounds she made. The broken, swallowed whimpers a mother makes when she does not want her pup to hear. One night she scratched the Chief’s son too deep. The Rogue had to pay restitution. He came home drunk and furious. He took an axe to her hands. Then her feet. “The Alpha forgot about you two a long time ago,” he laughed. “What do you need limbs for? You can still lie on your back and breed me silver.” That is the night I learned my father was an Alpha. Rain stings my face. I cough up a mouthful of blood and force myself upright on shaking legs. I scream at the carriage. “They say you were my mother’s closest sister! When your father was executed for treason, when your family’s females were sold to the brothels, she pawned her bridal jewelry. She shamed herself in front of every Alpha in the territory to buy you out!” Rose’s knuckles go bone-white around her embroidered handkerchief. CRACK. A whip slashes across my back. The beggar’s linen splits open. Skin opens with it. The Alpha stands over me, chest heaving. The Silver-Weaved Whip glints in his hand. “How DARE you! Rose is your stepmother. Your elder. You are a half-grown pup. You do not get to speak her name!” I lie in the mud, and I laugh at that whip. Because my mother told me the story. She begged a sacred elder for it. Mountain serpent leather. Three years soaked in healing wine. Silver threaded through by hand. A gift for her Alpha mate. May this whip strike down injustice. May it protect the weak. May it protect us, your Luna, your daughter. And now it is tearing the skin off her only pup. My eyes burn. Not tears. Hate. I drag myself upright. Sway. Stare straight at Rose. “My mother loved you like blood. And on the night of her first pregnancy, you climbed into the Alpha’s bed while he was drunk. She walked in on you. She lost the pup right there on the floor. Isn’t that right?” CRACK. CRACK. Two more lashes. “Demon spawn!” The Alpha’s eyes are red. “Your mother was jealous and bitter! She slipped on her own! She blamed Rose to save face!” I look up at his face, the face that gave me my eyes, my temper, my stubborn jaw, and I scream with everything I have left. “You spoiled your mistress and destroyed your mate! You don’t deserve to be called a mate! That’s why you have no son! My mother is DEAD! You will die alone! No heir, no bloodline, no one to mourn you!” “INSOLENT…” “Alpha, please. She is still a pup.” Rose’s voice. Soft. Practiced. Not one ounce of real mercy in it. The Alpha’s hand keeps rising. The whip keeps falling. Blood blooms across the linen. The fabric glues to my skin. Every twitch feels like flesh being peeled off. When he finally stops, panting like a wounded animal, I am barely shaped like a girl anymore. “Do you admit you are wrong?!” I lie in the cold mud. Every cut screams. I do not make a sound. His face twists. He turns to his guards. “Tie this little demon to the back of the carriage. She runs behind us until she begs forgiveness.”

The rain has not stopped. A rough rope cuts into my wrists. The carriage rolls forward and I stumble after it, bare feet slipping in mud. Every jolt yanks the rope. Every yank tears the lash wounds on my back wider. The silver residue from the whip burns under my skin like acid. My wolf is whimpering somewhere deep inside, too weak to even lift her head. My vision blurs. My head feels packed with wet sand. But somehow, through the rain, through the wind, I can still hear them. Laughter. Inside the carriage. Rosie is doing her baby voice. “Daddy, Daddy.” The Alpha chuckles low and indulgent. A perfect little family of three. And in the smeared, half-conscious dark behind my eyes, I see my mother. The way she was at the end. Just a torso on a rotting straw mat. The stumps where her hands used to be, weeping yellow. The stumps where her feet used to be, scarred over ugly and black. At first, she still sang. The old pack lullabies from the Pack House. She told me stories. How she and the Alpha used to sneak out at midnight to run as wolves under the moon. How he would put wildflowers in her hair in the spring meadows. How he swore, with his fangs against her throat, that he would protect his Luna forever. Then she stopped singing. She became something hollow. Something that only spoke when she dreamed. “Believe me. I didn’t push her. I didn’t push her. I didn’t…” I would crouch beside her mat, wipe the tears off her face with my dirty little fingers, and beg her to look at me. Please, Mama. Please just see me. Stop thinking about it. But that one sentence was carved into her bones. She could not let it go. She always told me, When your father learns the truth, he’ll come for us. He’ll protect us. Well, Mama. He came. In a carriage with silver bells. With a new Luna in his lap and a new pup at her breast. And he came to use your womb. My consciousness sinks like a stone in dark water. My knees give. I drop face-first into the mud and let the carriage drag me. Drag me to death. Good. If I die, I get to see her. I will not have to watch this happy little family anymore. I will not have to feel the silver burning under my skin. I will not have to keep being alive in a world that took everything… I wake up to the smell of healing herbs and a soft, sing-song voice in my ear. “Sissy, you’re awake!” A round little face hovers over mine. Pink cheeks. Curls. Wide, wet eyes. Rosie. The Alpha sits a few feet away, holding a steaming mug, watching me. His voice is flat. “Lucky you. If Rosie hadn’t whined that you were turning blue, you’d be a corpse on the road. Thank your sister.” I do not say a word. I just stare at her, cold as winter. Rosie shrinks back, hiding behind his arm. But the Alpha, instead of getting angry, actually smirks. There is something almost like approval in his eyes. “Tough little thing. You took every lash, dragged for miles, and didn’t whimper once. Didn’t beg. You’ve got my blood in you, all right.” Rose curls into his side, fingers tightening on his sleeve. Her smile stays sweet, but her voice slips in like a needle. “The Alpha is right, of course. Such a pity though. She is just a she-wolf. She will never run with the warriors like you did, my love. She will never fight wars or claim territory. In the end, she will just be someone’s mate. Someone’s Luna. Raising pups.” The Alpha’s brow snaps tight. That sentence finds the exact spot Rose was aiming for. “Yeah. Just a daughter.” He looks at me again, but the pride is already gone. Replaced by something colder. “Soon as we get back to the Pack House, I’m hiring the strictest matron in the territory. This one needs to be broken in. She’ll be of mating age in a few seasons. Mouth like a gutter, attitude like a feral. No respectable Alpha’s son will touch her.” Rose nods, all soft agreement, but I see the venom flicker in her eyes. I almost laugh out loud. When did I ever say I was going to the Pack House with them? Just then the carriage lurches to a hard stop. The driver’s voice calls in from outside, careful and low. “Alpha. We’re here. The Rogue village.”

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I FaceTimed my fiancé, Isaiah, but a ten-year-old boy answered. He looked exactly like Isaiah. He stared at me, his eyes instantly turning bloodshot. Then, he let out a heartbreaking cry, “Mom!” I froze. I was only one month pregnant and not even married yet. How could I have a ten-year-old son? Before I could say anything, the boy shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “Mom, I’m your unborn baby from the future.” “Please, don’t marry Dad. He’s been sleeping with Chloe for a long time.” My instinct was to deny it, but the boy seemed to be running out of time. He screamed urgently: “If you don’t believe me, go to our new house right now…” The call abruptly disconnected. I couldn’t believe my ears. Everyone knew my best friend, Chloe, and Isaiah were sworn enemies. They couldn’t stand each other. They bickered every time they met because of me. How could they possibly be together? Confused and anxious, I called back. This time, Isaiah’s face appeared on the screen. He looked at me with a warm smile. “Hey, Eliana. What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick from the pregnancy?” I hesitated, shaking my head. I was about to tell him about the weird video call. But then, I noticed the curtains behind him. They were the custom-made ones we ordered for our new place. “Where are you?” He looked guilty for a split second, then sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’m working overtime at the new place. I want to get everything done so work won’t ruin our wedding the day after tomorrow.” Suddenly, a familiar female voice echoed in the background. Before I could hear what she was saying, the call was abruptly hung up. A text message came through immediately after. [I’m getting busy, Eliana. I’ll text you later.] I stood there in silence. The seeds of doubt began to sprout and grow wildly in my heart. Without even grabbing a proper coat, I rushed out of the apartment and drove straight to our new house. But when I pushed the door open, the scene wasn’t what I had feared. Isaiah was sitting on the floor, putting up the wedding backdrop. Chloe was standing next to him, tying ribbons onto balloons. Both of them gasped when they saw me. “Eliana? What are you doing here?” Isaiah rushed over to support me and guided me to the sofa. “You’re pregnant. You need to be careful.” I stared at them, totally confused. “What… what are you two doing?” Isaiah rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t expect to run into her…” Chloe immediately chimed in, rolling her eyes. “As if I wanted to run into him. If it weren’t for your happiness, Eliana, there is no way in hell I’d stay in the same room as this guy.” “If you hadn’t lied to Eliana, she wouldn’t have rushed over here so worried!” Seeing them on the verge of fighting again, I quickly grabbed Chloe’s hand. “Alright, alright. I’m fine. Both of you are doing this for me, so please stop arguing.” Chloe gave him one last glare. Seeing them bicker just like they always did, I finally let out a sigh of relief. Maybe that video call was just a sick prank. I looked up at Chloe and noticed her eyes were red. “Chloe, what’s wrong? Did he bully you?” Chloe froze for a second, then shook her head. She wrapped her arms around me. “No. I’m just getting emotional. You’re getting married the day after tomorrow, and I’m feeling a bit lonely.” I gently patted her back. “Even after I’m married, we can still hang out. It’s not like I’m disappearing from your life.” She didn’t reply. She just held me tightly for a long time before letting go. “Alright, I’ll stop being a third wheel. I’m going home.” Seeing that it was pitch black outside, I grabbed my car keys from the coffee table, intending to drive her back. Isaiah gently pressed my shoulder and took the keys from my hand. “You’re pregnant. I’ll drive her home.” With that, he walked straight out the door. Chloe glanced at me, said nothing, and followed him. Watching their retreating figures, a strange, uneasy feeling crept into my chest. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was the little boy again. I demanded immediately, “Who on earth are you?” He didn’t answer right away. He just stared at me through the screen with intense emotion. Finally, he lowered his head. “Mom, I really am your child. My name is Aiden, and I came from ten years in the future.” “If you don’t believe me, go look under the bed in the master bedroom.” I looked at him skeptically. But his face held no guilt or deceit. Even though I didn’t believe in time travel, I walked into the bedroom and knelt by the bedside. With just one look, my breath caught in my throat.

There were several used condoms scattered carelessly under the bed. I froze, my entire body trembling uncontrollably. Watching me, Aiden’s eyes welled up with tears. He took a deep breath. “Mom, you can also look under the pillow…” My mind went completely blank. Mechanically, I lifted the pillow. A piece of lace lingerie met my eyes. It was Chloe’s favorite brand and style. I took a step back, unable to believe what I was seeing. “How is this possible…” “Maybe… maybe it was the cleaning lady…” Before I could even finish the sentence, I knew how pathetic I sounded. Isaiah and I had been together for seven years. I couldn’t bring myself to believe he would betray me like this. “How does this prove it was them?” I whispered. Aiden looked at me with pure heartbreak. “Mom, Dad and Chloe are arguing in the parking garage right now. If you go down, you’ll hear everything.” I turned to leave, but then I hesitated. “Can you tell me… what happens ten years from now?” Aiden seemed afraid of hurting me. He hesitated for a long time before speaking in a low, trembling voice. “Mom, you were eventually sent to a psychiatric hospital by Dad.” A psychiatric hospital? Seeing my confusion, he slowly unfolded the tragedy of my future. Chloe wasn’t satisfied with being just the secret mistress, yet she couldn’t bear losing her friendship with me. She fell into a deep depression. One night, she left a confession letter and committed suicide. After reading her letter, my mental state completely collapsed. I fell into severe depression. But instead of comforting me, Isaiah blamed her death entirely on me. He started openly dating other women—women who looked like Chloe. I couldn’t take the abuse and fought back, even hurting myself in the process. He used that as an excuse, claimed I was insane, and locked me away in an asylum. Hearing this, I sank to the floor, my stomach churning. A wave of intense nausea hit me. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up until my throat burned. When I came out, the video call had already ended. I touched my belly, my eyes filling with tears. Looking at my phone, I saw Isaiah’s car locator was still showing he was in the parking garage. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I walked straight down. As soon as I entered the dim garage, I saw Chloe pushing Isaiah away, crying hysterically. “Isaiah, what do you want me to do?” “Every time I see you treating her so well, I go crazy with jealousy!” “But she is my best friend! What else do you want me to do?!” Isaiah wrapped his arms around her tightly, looking completely devastated. No matter how she struggled, punched, or kicked him, he didn’t let go. Only when she ran out of strength did Isaiah finally speak in a soft, aching voice. “You still love me, and neither of us wants to hurt her. This is the best choice for all of us, isn’t it?” “Besides, didn’t we cover it up perfectly just now?” Hearing those words, even though I had prepared myself, a sharp, stabbing pain pierced my heart. Chloe sobbed against his chest. “No… it shouldn’t be like this…” “Isaiah, let’s end this! Let’s pretend none of today ever happened!” But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled her even closer. “Chloe, are you going to abandon me again after weighing your options?”

I leaned against the concrete pillar just to keep myself standing. So, they were each other’s unforgettable first loves. I remembered how Chloe used to get drunk and cry to me. “Eliana, I regret it so much…” “But he couldn’t give me the life I wanted back then. He was just a poor kid working three or four jobs, giving me every penny he earned while he survived on bread crusts…” “But the company that offered me an internship back then was the Jefferson Group—the top firm in the industry! What was I supposed to do…” She had mumbled on and on about how much he loved her, and how painful it was for her to make that choice. Later, when she heard I was in a relationship, she flew back to the States overnight just to “vet” him for me. The first time they met, I felt the awkward tension. After that, they either avoided each other or bickered whenever they were in the same room. I never could have imagined that they had such a passionate, dramatic past. Chloe cried and pushed him away. “But it’s too late now! She’s pregnant, and you two are getting married the day after tomorrow!” “What am I supposed to do…” Isaiah’s face was filled with pain, but he kept her in his embrace. “She will never know. I will make it up to her by treating her twice as well…” My heart ached with a suffocating tightness. His love for me hadn’t felt like a lie. Ever since we got together, he had surprised me on every holiday. Even when he drank himself to a stomach bleed, he still remembered to take care of me when I was sick. To get my parents’ approval, he worked day and night just to build a comfortable life for us. When my family went through a financial crisis, he emptied his entire savings account without a second thought to bail us out. And when an enemy set fire to our house, trapping me inside, he risked his life and rushed through the flames to save me. He had inhaled so much toxic smoke back then, yet he still managed to smile and comfort me. “Don’t cry, babe. I’m here.” He had gently wiped the soot off my face. “You look like a little dirty cat.” But now, this same man was holding my best friend, telling her he would make it up to me by treating me “twice as well.” My mind was a chaotic mess. On one side was the image of him holding Chloe; on the other was the memory of how deeply he had loved me. I gently stroked my stomach. For the sake of my baby, this had to end. With trembling hands, I took out my phone and snapped photos of them. I wanted to walk over and confront them, to demand an explanation for my ruined friendship and love. But right then, Isaiah’s phone rang. It was my contact calling him. I quickly pressed the call button, watching him answer it from afar. “Eliana, some urgent business came up at the office. I might not make it home tonight.” Suppressing the tremor in my voice, I asked, “I’m scared to be home alone. Can’t you do the work tomorrow?” His voice softened instantly. “Be good, babe. Once this busy week is over, I’ll spend all my time with you. How about I call Mom to keep you company?” At that moment, Chloe struggled out of his arms and turned to walk away. Seeing her leave, Isaiah got anxious and hurried to wrap up the call. “Eliana, things are really crazy here. I have to hang up. I’ll call you back later.” I watched him hang up and immediately grab Chloe’s arm. “Don’t go.” Chloe buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing. “I feel so guilty, but I’m so jealous of her. Why does she get to accept your love openly? Why does she get to carry your baby while I can’t…” Isaiah rubbed her back, whispering comforts. “Eliana is your best friend. She loves you. She will understand.” Yeah, she was my best friend. She was the girl who stood up for me and fought back when I was bullied in school. But how the hell was I supposed to “understand” this? Forcing down the agonizing pain in my chest, I sent Chloe a Snapchat. [Let’s go try on wedding dresses together tomorrow.] Since you two love each other so much, I’ll let you have each other. All I want is the baby in my womb.

Isaiah never called back that night. Instead, Aiden kept me company through FaceTime. Watching him excitedly talk about his life on the other side of the screen, my eyes filled with tears. “Aiden… I’m not around anymore in your timeline, am I?” His eyes turned red instantly, and he slowly nodded. “You committed suicide last year because of severe depression…” My heart shattered. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I wished more than anything I could reach through the screen and hug his fragile body. “I’m so sorry, baby… This time, I promise I will stay with you. I will watch you grow up.” “We will be together forever.” The next morning, I saw Chloe’s reply: [Okay.] I drove to the bridal boutique early. On the way, an overwhelming sense of dread washed over me. Suddenly, Aiden’s FaceTime call came through. His face was pale with terror. “Mom! Don’t drive!” “Don’t—” Before he could finish, a massive truck ran a red light, speeding straight toward me. I spun the steering wheel wildly, but it was too late. The deafening crash echoed in my ears as the airbag slammed into my face. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through my entire body, and I felt something warm and wet draining out of me. With the last ounce of my strength, I looked at the phone screen. Aiden’s face was fading. In my fading consciousness, I heard his weak, sobbing voice. “Mom!” “Mom, I’m sorry… I don’t think I can have you watch me grow up anymore…” When I woke up, the smell of disinfectant filled my nose. I stared at the sterile white ceiling and slowly placed my hand on my flat, empty belly. Tears fell silently. Suddenly, Chloe’s hysterical voice drifted in from outside the hospital room door. “I did it! I hired that truck! I just wanted her to lose the baby!” “I’m a monster! Why do you still love me?!” My brain exploded with a loud buzz. My fingernails dug deep into my palms. Dragging my bruised, aching body out of bed, I leaned against the door. It was her. She had planned the crash. The screaming outside continued. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you having a child with her! I couldn’t stand seeing you treat her better than me! I am that evil!” “I tried to kill my best friend’s baby! Do you still want to be with me now?!” Chloe was crying hysterically, but Isaiah’s angry outburst never came. I expected him to yell, to be furious, to call the police and demand justice for our dead child. But instead, he just pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared. I’ll handle everything for you.” “As long as Eliana doesn’t find out, we can pretend none of this ever happened, okay?” She froze. And so did I. In a daze, I remembered the day I tested positive for pregnancy. He had cheered and spun me around. He was so happy that he ran around our neighborhood, telling every neighbor he passed that he was going to be a father. But now, he was holding Chloe, showing no grief for our lost baby. He was only concerned with soothing the crying murderer in his arms. I coughed, spitting out a mouthful of blood. It was all so sickeningly absurd. I pushed the door open and spoke quietly. “I heard everything.”

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My phone suddenly received a call that I couldn’t hang up. The male voice on the other end belonged to my husband. The female voice belonged to his mistress. A muffled conversation kept playing. They were detailing a perfect murder plot against someone. Every step was chillingly precise. I tried to call 911, but every number I dialed was automatically routed back to this ongoing call. After a grueling process of deduction, I finally pinpointed the location they were describing. It was my own house. And right now, a sudden, urgent knock echoed from my bedroom door. This was step one of their murder plan. The knocking on the door was extremely rhythmic. Three long, one short. It was a unique habit of my husband, Julian. The un-hang-up-able call on my phone was still playing. On the line, Julian’s voice was cold to the core. “The sleeping pills are already in her warm milk.” “Once she drinks it, we can set up the suicide scene.” Outside the door, Julian’s voice came through, soft and gentle. “Clara, honey, I made you some warm milk. Open the door.” I stood behind the door, keeping silent. If I didn’t open it, he would definitely use his key. I turned around, rushed to the dining table, and slipped a vitamin tablet between my fingers. Then, I opened the door. Julian walked in, holding a steaming glass of milk. His mother, Martha, followed closely behind. Her eyes darted around shiftily. Julian handed me the glass with a warm smile. “Babe, you’ve been working too hard lately. Drink this while it’s hot and get some good sleep.” I looked down at the pure white liquid. “It’s too hot,” I said, taking the glass. “Let me get a napkin first.” I turned my back to them, blocking their view. I tilted my wrist. The entire glass of milk poured right into the soil of the lush monstera plant next to the TV stand. In the same motion, I popped the vitamin tablet into my mouth, crushed it, and swallowed. I turned back and placed the empty glass, still stained with a ring of milk, on the table. Julian walked over and glanced at the empty glass. He exchanged a look with his mother. Then, he looked at me. “Why don’t you lie down on the couch for a bit?” I nodded, pretending my limbs were heavy, and shuffled to the couch. I collapsed onto the cushions and closed my eyes. My breathing slowed down, becoming deep and even. The living room fell dead silent, save for the ticking of the wall clock. A moment later, I heard Julian let out a long sigh of relief. Immediately after, the bedroom door was pushed open from the inside. Light footsteps approached. “Is she completely out?” A young woman’s voice whispered. It was Vivian, the nurse from Julian’s private clinic. So, she had been hiding in our house this whole time. Martha immediately complained in a hushed, harsh whisper. “Why did the drug take so long to kick in?” “Hurry up and do it.” “I checked the ceiling beam on the balcony this afternoon. It can easily hold an adult’s weight.” The footsteps stopped right beside me. Vivian leaned over. Her perfume, mixed with the faint scent of chemical disinfectant, invaded my nose. The rough texture of a hemp rope brushed against the skin of my neck. She began measuring the rope around my neck to tie the noose. “Don’t leave any struggle marks. It has to look natural,” Julian whispered. “I know,” Vivian’s voice held a trace of sick excitement. “Once she’s dead, we’re finally free.” Martha urged from the side. “Hurry up! Don’t waste time. I’m going to file the paperwork for this house and her bank accounts first thing tomorrow.” “Once Vivian gives birth to my grandbaby, our family can finally live in peace.” They were practicing a murder right in front of me, on my own body. Julian walked back to the table. The sound of paper rustling echoed. He placed a piece of paper on the table. “The suicide note is ready.” “Now, let’s hang her up.” Vivian’s hands tightened around my neck, pulling the loop closed. “I’ll lift her up, you kick the chair,” Julian said, stepping closer. The exact second Vivian exerted force to tighten the rope. I snapped my eyes wide open. The living room instantly fell into a graveyard silence. Vivian shrieked, her hands trembling as she lost her balance and fell flat on her butt. Julian’s outstretched hands froze in mid-air. Martha gasped loudly, slapping her hand over her mouth. The three of them froze like statues, their eyes bulging out, staring at me in sheer terror. I sat up, ripped the rope off my neck, and tossed it to the floor. Ignoring their horrified stares, I reached over and grabbed the suicide note from the table. My eyes swept over the words. I looked at Julian and spoke coldly. “Very touching.” I slapped the paper back onto the table. “But if you want to fake my suicide by hanging, don’t you think you need to edit this note first?”

Julian’s face turned from pale to livid. He looked at the rope on the floor, then at my completely sober eyes, finally realizing what was happening. He gritted his teeth, his expression turning dark as he stepped toward me. “You didn’t drink the milk.” “Well, since you didn’t take the drug, you can die awake.” He shot a look at Vivian. Vivian scrambled up from the floor, grabbed the rope, and lunged at me. I let out a cold laugh. “Dr. Julian, don’t you even know the basic legal regulations when you try to commit a murder?” I pointed at the suicide note. “Your note says I hung myself due to severe, untreated clinical depression.” “But as the President of the HOA, I just led a community blood drive last Friday. My blood sample is registered in the national database, and it’s completely clean.” “A patient with ‘severe depression’ who has zero traces of anti-depressants in her system for months?” “The moment the medical examiner runs a toxicology report on my blood and hair, your ‘depression’ story is going to blow up in your face!” Julian’s footsteps abruptly stopped. Vivian panicked. She stood frozen with the rope, looking back at Julian. Martha’s face flushed red with rage. She lunged forward, claws out, trying to strangle me herself. “Who cares about that! Just kill her first!” I quickly stepped back, grabbed the heavy glass ashtray from the table, and slammed it onto the tile floor. With a loud crash, glass shattered everywhere. Martha shrieked and pulled her hands back. I glared at them. “And how do you plan to handle my body?” “Take it straight to the crematorium? Keep dreaming!” “In this district, any death that doesn’t happen under a doctor’s care in a hospital is classified as an unattended death.” “The crematorium won’t touch a body without a Coroner’s release form and a police report!” “You run a tiny, private neighborhood clinic. What authority do you have to sign a death certificate for an unattended death?” “The moment you try to move my body out of this building, the police will open a homicide investigation!” Silence enveloped the room. Vivian’s hands began to shake violently, and the rope slipped to the floor. Martha looked at Julian, terrified. “Julian… is… is she telling the truth?” I stared at Julian coldly. I thought these basic legal facts would be enough to terrify them. After all, they wanted a perfect suicide, not a messy homicide that would make them wanted fugitives. But right then, something incredibly bizarre happened. Julian actually smiled. He wasn’t scared at all. Instead, he casually walked over to the couch and sat down. Vivian stopped shaking, too. She stepped forward, grabbed the suicide note from the table, and tore it to shreds, piece by piece, right in front of me. She tossed the shredded paper into the trash can. Martha sighed, her face twisting into an expression of fake, mocking sympathy. “I told you,” Martha said sneeringly. “Her mental illness is getting worse. She’s completely delusional.” “Ranting about murder, she doesn’t even recognize her own family anymore.” My brows furrowed as I watched their sudden change in behavior. Julian pulled his phone out of his pocket. He looked at me, his voice as cold as ice. “Clara, your paranoid schizophrenia is flaring up again.” “What murder?” “That suicide note was just some garbage paper you scribbled during your episode. Vivian tore it up so it wouldn’t trigger you.” “And that rope? It’s just a cable for repairing the balcony.” He tapped his phone screen. “Your mental state is extremely unstable right now, and you’re exhibiting violent behavior.” “As your husband, I have no choice but to call the psychiatric hospital to pick you up.” My blood ran cold.

I could not let them take me to a psychiatric hospital. Once I was locked in there, any “accident” would easily be written off as a real suicide. I immediately reached into my pocket for my phone to call 911. The screen lit up. But in the top left corner, the signal bars showed a red “No Service.” Julian pointed smugly to the corner behind the door. “Don’t waste your breath.” “Before I came in, I turned on a medical-grade signal jammer.” “You can’t send a single text.” I didn’t panic. Instead, I pointed to a small, inconspicuous white box mounted on the baseboard. “You forgot what I do for a living.” “That is a Life Alert emergency button for the elderly in our community.” “It runs on a dedicated, low-frequency cellular band. Your cheap jammer can’t block it.” When I had stepped back to smash the ashtray earlier, my heel had already pressed that button. The moment the words left my mouth, heavy pounding erupted on the front door. “Clara! Open up! It’s Lily!” The door wasn’t locked. Lily, my HOA assistant, burst in. Right behind her were two police officers from the local precinct. It was like finding a lifeline in a stormy sea. I screamed immediately, “Officers! They are trying to kill me!” “The milk in that pot is poisoned! And they have a rope to hang me!” The officers instantly went on high alert, stepping between us. “Nobody move! What’s going on here?” the lead officer demanded. I pointed at the monstera plant. “Test the soil! The milk poured in there is full of sleeping pills!” The officer glanced at Julian and nodded to the accompanying forensic tech to take a sample of the wet soil. Five minutes later, the tech looked at the screen of his rapid-testing device. He looked up at the officer and shook his head. “It’s just regular calcium powder drink. No traces of sedatives or toxins.” I felt like I had fallen into an abyss. “That’s impossible!” I pointed frantically at the rope on the floor. “What about the rope?! They tried to put it around my neck!” Lily looked at me, her face filled with awkward concern. “Clara… Julian bought that cable today to secure your balcony railing. I literally registered his maintenance request this afternoon.” Lily avoided my eyes, asking softly, “Clara… did you forget to take your medication again?” I froze. “What medication?” Lily pulled a thick folder from her bag and handed it to the police. “Officers, these are Clara’s medical records.” Inside were medical reports from various psychiatric clinics over the past six months. There was even a video of me losing my temper and slamming a table during an HOA meeting. I stared at Julian in horror. Over the past six months, he had used his medical knowledge to slip micro-doses of hallucinogenic drugs into my food. It kept me in a constant state of irritability and paranoia. He had spent months painting a picture for the entire neighborhood: “Clara is a poor, unstable woman.” The officers’ guarded looks turned into sympathy. The lead officer handed the files back to Lily and sighed. I desperately pulled out my phone. “I am not crazy!” “There is a call on my phone that won’t hang up! It recorded them planning to kill me tonight! Listen!” I tapped the audio to play it out loud. But what came out of the speaker… Was not a murder conspiracy. It was the dialogue of a mystery audiobook I had downloaded three months ago! Julian must have used our shared cloud drive while I was in the shower to force-lock this audio on a loop in my phone’s background. All my evidence… In this very second, was rendered completely useless in a perfectly legal, undeniable way.

The lead officer sighed. He stepped forward and spoke to me in a very gentle, soothing tone. “Clara, please calm down. Take a deep breath.” Then, he turned to Julian. “Dr. Julian, your wife’s condition is very unstable. It’s not safe for her to stay home.” “You should contact a specialized facility immediately.” “If needed, we can assist you with an involuntary hold so she doesn’t hurt herself.” Julian’s eyes turned red. He put on a perfect performance of an exhausted, devoted husband. He walked over, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, his voice cracking with emotion. “Thank you, officer.” “I’ve already contacted the private care facility. The ambulance should be here any minute.” He looked down at me, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph. “Sweetie, we’ll get you some help. I don’t blame you.” I struggled wildly. “Get off me! I am not sick!” Vivian immediately stepped forward in her nurse’s uniform. She held a pre-filled syringe in her hand. “Clara, please hold still.” “Your heart rate is too high. You might go into shock. I’m going to give you a mild sedative to help you rest.” The police stood right there, watching. To them, this was “professional medical staff treating a manic patient.” They had no reason to stop her. The cold needle brushed against my vein. Once this drug entered my system… I would lose all ability to fight back, and I would be dragged into a hell I could never escape. Every path was blocked. I looked into Julian’s mocking eyes. He had won. He had dismantled all my logic and common sense. Every second felt like an eternity. Just as the needle was about to pierce my skin… My eyes fell on Julian’s shoes. They were the leather shoes he usually wore at his clinic. In the crevices of the soles, there was a tiny trace of dark red powder. That wasn’t regular dirt. Suddenly, everything clicked in my mind. “So that’s what this is…”

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Our sister was struck down by his personal assistant in a brutal drunk-driving accident on her way home from school. She died in the ER after they failed to resuscitate her. I filed a lawsuit immediately, demanding justice. But on the day of the trial, my parents were kidnapped and tied up in an abandoned warehouse, their bodies strapped with active C4 explosives. My husband, Ethan Miller, stood over me, his eyes colder than ice. “If you don’t drop the charges, I can’t guarantee these bombs won’t go off. Your sister is already dead, Serena. Why do you have to ruin another young girl’s life?” “If your sister hadn’t run out into the street like an idiot, Chloe wouldn’t have panicked and hit the gas instead of the brake. Strictly speaking, your sister brought this on herself!” At that moment, it clicked. Ethan thought the girl who died was my sister, Maya. That was why he was willing to risk my parents’ lives just to force me to drop the lawsuit! I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Dropping the charges requires the immediate family’s signature. I don’t have the right to sign that.”

Ethan was famously known in New York as an overprotective, borderline obsessive older brother. If his little sister so much as scraped her knee, he would turn the entire city upside down to find whoever was responsible. Later, terrified that some street hoodlum might trick her into dating, he sent her to an elite all-girls boarding school during high school, paying over a million dollars a year in tuition. Seeing me refuse to sign, Ethan’s face darkened instantly. “Serena, I am telling you what’s going to happen, not negotiating with you.” “Chloe just graduated college. Are you really that malicious that you want to destroy the rest of her life?” “Besides, your sister would have married into some other family anyway. Tell you what, I’ll throw in some extra cash for your parents. Consider it a generous compensation package.” He glanced at my terrified parents tied to the chairs, his eyes flashing with a menacing threat. “You better make up your mind fast. I can’t promise how much time is left on those timers!” Looking at Ethan’s smug, victorious face, my heart went completely numb. To bail his precious assistant Chloe out of a prison sentence, he was actually using my parents’ lives to blackmail me! I stared at the ticking countdown on the bombs, my chest tight with agony. “Ethan, are you even human? The girl who was crushed to death under that car was “our” sister!” Ethan’s eyes narrowed, and he corrected me in a freezing tone. “She was “your” sister. Not mine.” I stared at him and chuckled quietly. I had simply said “our sister,” and he couldn’t wait to draw a line in the sand. If he knew that the girl lying cold in the morgue was his own flesh-and-blood sister, would he still be forcing me to sign this liability waiver? Ethan’s parents passed away when he was eighteen. At the time, his uncles kidnapped him and his sister to steal their inheritance. To help Ethan escape, his little sister stayed behind to distract the kidnappers. She was tortured in their basement for three days and three nights. When they finally found her, she was barely breathing. From that day on, Ethan swore to God he would protect his sister and never let her suffer a single scratch. Thinking of the horror Lily had endured in the past, I couldn’t help but sigh. “Ethan, did you know that when she was hit, she was still breathing? It was Chloe. She was terrified of the medical bills and the legal fallout, so she put the car in reverse and ran her over a second time, crushing her to death.” Ethan remained completely unmoved. He slapped a settlement and liability waiver onto the table in front of me. “That was just a death rattle. Besides, living as a vegetable would have been torture for her anyway. Dying quickly was a mercy. At least now she can secure a nice payout for your parents.” Looking at the utter disgust in Ethan’s eyes, my heart completely shattered. “Ethan, she only went out that day to buy a birthday cake for you. That’s why Chloe hit her.”

Ethan looked down at me, his eyes filled with nothing but cold indifference. “Your sister only bought me that cake to kiss up to the Miller family. I never cared about her cheap gestures anyway.” “Sign the papers. Now. Stop wasting my time!” Ethan gripped my shoulder with an iron, bruising grip, forcing me to look at my parents, who were shaking violently under the strapped explosives. I looked at the timer. Less than three minutes left. I bit my lip so hard it bled. “Ethan, if my parents hadn’t used every single one of their political and business connections to bail you out when your uncles tried to ruin you, do you think you’d be sitting in the CEO chair of Miller Enterprises today?” Ethan glanced at my parents’ pale, aging faces, his lips curling into a sneer. “They only helped me so you could secure your title as Mrs. Miller. Don’t act like it was charity.” His words stripped away the last piece of warmth in my soul. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Fine. I’ll sign.” Satisfied with my answer, Ethan finally smirked and nodded to his bodyguards. “Cut them loose.” Then, he turned to me with a warning glare. “I’m releasing this signed waiver to Snapchat and Ins immediately. Don’t even think about filing a second lawsuit.” Without hesitation, he authorized a ten-million-dollar wire transfer to my account. “This is the compensation for your sister. Take it and never bother Chloe again.” I looked at the long string of zeros on my phone screen and instantly hit “Decline Transfer.” “Keep your blood money. After all, I’m not the victim’s family.” Ethan’s face turned bright red with rage. “Serena, your sister’s death has nothing to do with me. But if I catch you cursing my sister or bringing her into this, I will personally ruin you!” With that, he grabbed the signed waiver and walked out without looking back. The moment Ethan left, the adrenaline faded, and I collapsed into my parents’ arms, sobbing. My mother held me tightly, her tears wetting my hair. “Serena, you used everything we had to build his empire and put him on that throne. Was he really worth it?” A freezing coldness settled in my eyes. I looked up at her. “Mom, tell Grandpa Arthur to cancel every single contract and partnership we have with Miller Enterprises. I’m divorcing him.” The only reason Ethan survived his uncles was because my grandfather supported him from the shadows. Since he was bored of being the powerful CEO, it was time to drag him back down to the dirt. Looking at the bruises on my parents, I didn’t waste any more time. I immediately took them to the hospital for a full checkup. Thankfully, they were just shaken up and had minor bruises. They just needed a few days of rest in a private room. Right after I finished the admission paperwork, I saw Ethan walking down the hallway, supporting Chloe. Chloe was leaning weakly against his chest, looking like a fragile victim. “Ethan, ever since the accident, every time I close my eyes, I see that horrible, bloody scene. The doctor says I have severe clinical depression and PTSD. I need to be admitted, but all the private rooms are fully booked!” Ethan’s eyes locked onto the private room behind me. His face hardened. “Serena, tell your parents to pack up and give this room to Chloe.” I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. “Ethan, you kidnapped my parents and left them bruised and traumatized. And now you want them to give up their room to the murderer who killed a young girl?” Hearing this, Chloe smirked slightly before quickly hiding it behind a pout. “The car accident was just an unfortunate event! Besides, didn’t your family already take Ethan’s money? Or are you just pretending to be poor so you can extort even more money from him using your parents?” The nurses and visitors in the hallway began whispering and pointing at my parents and me.

“Oh, so that’s them! They made such a big scene online about demanding justice for their sister, but in the end, they just took the hush money and skipped the trial!” “Taking the cash and then coming to the hospital to play the victim? Talk about greedy. They probably want another payout.” “How shameless. Selling their sister’s life for a luxury lifestyle, and now they’re using their elderly parents to squeeze out more.” Ethan looked at me with disgust. “Since your family took the money, stop using your sister’s ghost to gain sympathy. Get your parents out of that room. Chloe needs it.” “Besides, if you hadn’t harassed her with that lawsuit, her depression wouldn’t have triggered. Your family owes her this.” I let out a hysterical laugh. “Chloe is the one who ran someone over. We don’t owe anyone anything!” Seeing my stubborn refusal, Ethan’s face turned ugly. “If ten million wasn’t enough, I’ll transfer you another ten million. Just get out of the room.” Chloe chimed in, “Twenty million is enough to buy your whole family’s lives, Serena. Be happy with what you got.” Ethan gave a sharp nod to the guards standing behind him. Instantly, several beefy men rushed into the room and began violently dragging my parents off the hospital bed! My heart dropped. I threw myself in front of my parents, staring at Ethan with pure hatred. “Ethan! My parents are still legally your in-laws! Aren’t you afraid of divine retribution?” Ethan sneered. “Serena, everything you have was given to you by me. Your parents are only in this high-end hospital because of the Miller family name.” I looked at him and smiled slowly, a chilling, mocking smile. “Ethan… how long has it been since you actually spoke to your own sister?” At the mention of his sister, Ethan froze for a fraction of a second, but his face quickly turned hostile again. “Your sister died because she was unlucky and stupid. She deserved it!” “My sister is perfectly safe at her boarding school. Do not compare my sweet Lily to your low-class sister!” I whispered softly, “You’ll find out soon enough who actually deserved to die.” Over the next few days, Ethan stayed by Chloe’s side at the hospital, playing the devoted caretaker. Because of this, the city morgue couldn’t reach him. In desperation, they called me. Lily’s body had been held past the limit. She had to be buried or cremated immediately. Remembering how Lily used to sweetly call me her big sister, my heart softened. I quietly organized a small funeral service for her. On the day of the funeral, I was walking with the hearse toward the Miller family private cemetery. From the opposite direction, Ethan and Chloe approached us. Seeing the black coffin, Chloe immediately pinched her nose and looked disgusted. “I just got discharged today, and the first thing I see is a coffin? Talk about bad luck!” “And Serena, why are you burying someone who died a violent death in the prestigious Miller family cemetery? Are you trying to make Ethan the laughingstock of all New York high society?” Ethan’s face was twisted in rage. “Serena! Why the hell are you bringing your sister’s dead body to my family’s cemetery? Are you trying to defile my family’s land?” My eyes turned bloodshot as I stared at the two of them. My hands trembled with fury. “Chloe, you are a cold-blooded murderer. What right do you have to speak about the dead? Aren’t you afraid she’ll crawl out of the dirt tonight and drag you to hell with her?” Chloe whimpered, looking terrified, and hid behind Ethan. “Ethan… seeing that coffin makes me relive the crash. I… I think my panic attack is starting again!”

“If she gets buried here, my mental health will be ruined forever!” Hearing this, Ethan immediately pulled her into a protective embrace, before turning to his guards with a savage look. “A dead nobody doesn’t belong in the Miller family plot. Take the coffin to the cheap public crematorium, burn her, and dump the ashes in the ocean.” Before I could react, several guards stepped forward and violently shoved me out of the way. My back slammed hard against the wooden coffin, a sharp, white-hot pain radiating through my spine. As the guards began using crowbars to force the coffin open right there on the road, I scrambled up from the dirt like a madwoman. “Ethan! Stop! You cannot do this to her!” Ethan scoffed. “Since your family accepted the blood money, her corpse belongs to me. I can do whatever the hell I want with it!” With a loud crack, the guard pried the lid open. Another guard reached in and ruthlessly dragged the body out of the silk lining, tossing it onto the grass like a sack of trash. “Ah!” Chloe screamed in terror at the sight of the pale, bloated body. She stumbled backward, knocking over a heavy ceremonial oil lantern used for the funeral procession. The lantern shattered, and the burning oil splashed instantly across Lily’s body. Within seconds, the corpse was engulfed in roaring flames. Staring at the burning body, Chloe looked up with watery, innocent eyes. “Ethan… I didn’t mean to! I was just so scared of the body that I lost my balance…” Ethan patted her back gently, comforting her. “It’s not your fault. Honestly, burning it here saves us a trip to the crematorium anyway.” I stared at Ethan, my eyes wide and bloodshot, my voice barely a whisper. “Ethan… I hope you never regret what you did today.” Ethan let out a mocking laugh. “Why would I ever regret burning your useless sister?” With that, he lifted Chloe up in a bridal carry, stepped carelessly over the burning corpse, and walked back toward his luxury SUV. I watched his retreating back, my fists clenched so hard my knuckles popped. If he had looked at the burning body for just one second… he would have noticed the silver promise ring on her charred finger. The ring he bought his sister for her sixteenth birthday. After putting out the fire and taking care of Lily’s ashes, I dragged my exhausted body back to the penthouse. The moment I pushed the door open, I saw Chloe sitting on Ethan’s lap, feeding him grapes. Seeing me, Chloe rolled her eyes. “Ugh, Serena. You just touched a dead body. Go wash up, don’t bring that bad juju into this house.” Ethan gave me a cold, warning look. “Don’t ever think about burying your family members in my cemetery again. It’s not meant for peasants.” I looked at the two of them, suddenly feeling a profound sense of disgust. I pulled a document out of my bag and threw it onto the coffee table. “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.” Ethan stared at the divorce papers, stunned for a second, before slamming his hand on the table and standing up in a fury. “Just because your sister got run over, you want to divorce me?” I nodded quietly. “Yes. Because she got run over.” Ethan sneered. “Serena, everything you have is because of me. Once you leave this penthouse, you’ll be nothing but damaged goods. No man in New York will ever look at you.” Chloe smiled like a snake. “Serena, you’ve been an unemployed housewife for years. If you leave Ethan, you won’t even be able to pay rent. Ethan is worth billions!” I looked at her and smiled. “If you want him so badly, you can have him.” Without another word, I turned and walked out of that toxic house forever.

That very afternoon, I hired the best divorce attorney in New York and filed the papers. Ethan didn’t think I’d actually go through with it. He spammed my Snapchat with dozens of angry voice notes. “Serena, you think you’re tough now? You just dropped the charges against Chloe, and now you’re suing me for divorce?” “You haven’t worked a single day since we got married. Let’s see how you survive in this city without my credit cards!” “You want a divorce? Fine. But you’re leaving with absolutely nothing. You won’t get a single penny of the Miller fortune!” To make matters worse, Ethan started spreading rumors online. He posted on Snapchat and Ins, claiming that I had cheated on him, and that I was using my sister’s “wrongful death payout” to fund a lavish lifestyle with my secret lover. The day of the court hearing arrived quickly. Because the drunk-driving case had already gained a lot of traction online, a massive crowd of reporters and bystanders blocked the courthouse steps. “Serena! Is it true you dropped the charges against Chloe just to take a hush-money payout?” “Serena, are you really divorcing your husband to run away with your lover using your sister’s blood money?” Ethan stood at the top of the steps, looking down at me with a smirk. “Serena, it’s not too late to call this off. If we go inside, I will make sure you leave with absolutely nothing.” I looked up at him and smiled coldly. “I’ll let the judge make that decision.” I walked past him and entered the courtroom. The trial began. Ethan sat at the defense table. His lawyer presented the ten-million-dollar wire transfer record along with photos of me entering hotels with various business associates (which were actually my grandfather’s executives). Ethan looked at me with a fake sigh of pity. “Serena, this should have been kept private. You forced my hand. I hope you don’t blame me.” “If your sister knew you were using her death to hook up with other men, she wouldn’t be able to rest in peace.” I looked at his hypocritical face and whispered, “I’ll ask her if she’s resting in peace. But as for your sister… I don’t think she is.” Suddenly, a young, vibrant girl stood up from the spectator gallery. “I’m literally standing right here. Who exactly died and left behind blood money?” Ethan froze. His eyes widened, and his pupils dilated in pure shock as he stared at the girl’s face. “M-Maya?! You’re alive?!” “Then… who died?” The entire courtroom erupted into whispers! “Wait, isn’t that Serena’s sister? She’s alive?” “What the hell? Is this a ghost story?” “If Serena’s sister is alive… then who was the girl crushed under the car? Didn’t Ethan have a little sister around the same age? Oh my god… could it be…?” Hearing the murmurs, Ethan began to tremble violently. He glared at me, his voice shaking. “Serena! You told me your sister died! What is this trick?!” I glanced at Chloe, who was sitting next to him, and smiled. “Whether my sister is dead or alive… shouldn’t your assistant Chloe know best?” Ethan stiffened. He turned his head slowly, staring at Chloe with a terrifying gaze. “Chloe… tell me. Who did you hit that day?” Chloe shook violently under his gaze and grabbed his arm in a panic.

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That night, Tristan Sterling shoved me out of his car, my clothes in disarray, my skin covered with fresh love bites. People on the sidewalk raised their phones and whispered, “Isn’t that the Vance heiress? Did Tristan Sterling get tired of her and dump her on the side of the road?” I bit my lip until I tasted blood, hailed a cab, and told the driver to follow his car. I needed to see the woman who could make him abandon me without a second thought. Half an hour later, through the hotel window, I watched him take off his coat and gently wrap it around a woman wearing nothing but pajamas before carefully lifting her into his arms and carrying her inside. At that exact moment, a news alert flashed across my phone: “Sterling Group CEO Tristan Sterling Spotted Picking Up a Mysterious Woman Late at Night—Rumors Swirl That His Former Love Has Returned.” The next second, I dialed my father’s number. “I’m accepting the arranged marriage.” Scarlett’s POV I was known as the most stunning, wild IT-girl in New York’s high society. Tristan Sterling, on the other hand, was the youngest billionaire kingpin in the city. Cold, ruthless, and absolutely lethal. Nobody knew that we, two people who seemingly had nothing to do with each other, would kiss passionately in the dark of night. Nobody knew we made love by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse. Or that he would grip my waist in the back of his black Maybach until my legs went completely numb. Tristan leaned down, his breath hot against my ear, whispering with a dark chuckle. “The partition is up. The driver can’t hear a thing. What are you so shy about?” “Scarlett, relax. Say my name.” “Tristan…” I called his name, my voice thick with embarrassment. The usually cold, untouchable man smiled with dark satisfaction. His movements grew wilder, and I wrapped my arms around him, my eyes filled with hopeless love. Just as we finished, a sharp notification chimed on his phone. Tristan pulled out his screen. I caught a glimpse of the contact name: “Chloe.” Tristan, I have a fever. I feel so sick… The moment he read that message, the passion in Tristan’s eyes vanished. Instantly. He ordered the driver to pull over, pushed the door open, and practically threw me out before I could even fix my clothes. “An emergency came up at the office. I have to go. Take a cab home.” I knew exactly who Chloe was. She was the woman he actually loved. She had been recovering in a European clinic for years and had just returned. As he went to shut the door, I suddenly grabbed his hand. My eyes, normally so bright, pleaded with him. “Can’t you stay? Just this once?” His eyes darkened. “Scarlett, be good. Don’t throw a tantrum.” He brushed my hand off and slammed the door. The black Maybach sped away into the night. I was left standing on the curb, my clothes disheveled, my pale skin covered in fresh red marks. Several passing men stared at me, their eyes filthy. “Isn’t that Scarlett Vance?” “Wow, the Vance heiress is really wild. Dumped on the side of the road looking like that!” “I wonder how much she charges for a night. With a body like that, it must be insane…” Their sleazy whispers felt like invisible hands, stripping away the last of my dignity. I bit my lip, quickly adjusted my coat, and immediately hailed a cab to follow Tristan. I wanted to see what this Chloe looked like. I wanted to see the woman who could pull him away with a single text right after we made love, leaving me to be laughed at by the whole city. Half an hour later, my cab stopped outside a luxury hotel. Through the window, I watched Chloe run out of the lobby wearing nothing but a thin silk slip. Tristan rushed forward. He took off his heavy wool coat, wrapped her in it, and swept her up into his arms. Sitting in the back of the cab, watching him carry Chloe into the hotel, my mind drifted back to how we first met. It was right after I returned from studying abroad. I had crashed my car, a limited-edition Pagani, directly into Tristan’s. My father was so furious he dragged me to Tristan’s office to beg for forgiveness. Behind his wire-rimmed glasses, Tristan’s eyes were ice-cold. He said, “Paying for the damages is pointless. Neither of our families lacks money. But if you truly want to apologize, Mr. Vance, let Scarlett work as my personal assistant. It’s time she learned some work ethic.” Tristan was famous for being a tyrant. Everyone knew that anyone who survived his training came out disciplined and submissive. My father, desperate to tame my wild streak, agreed instantly. Just like that, he threw me to the wolf. Of course, I didn’t go quietly. I tried every trick in the book to annoy him. On my first day, I spilled hot espresso all over his bespoke Savile Row suit. Tristan barely blinked. “Bespoke Swiss tailoring. Put it on the Vance family tab.” On the second day, I ran his most important merger contract through the paper shredder. With a straight face, Tristan simply drafted a new one right in front of me. The new terms were even harsher than the original. On the third day, I spiked his coffee. I wanted to record him losing control so I could blackmail him into letting me go. I didn’t expect that I would end up being his only cure. I wanted to kill him afterward, but Tristan just pinned me against the glass window of his office, making love to me until I couldn’t breathe. “Scarlett,” he whispered, kissing my earlobe, his voice dark and gravelly. “Stop fighting me. Be a good girl.” That single “Scarlett” made my heart skip a beat. It sent a delicious shiver down my spine. Except for my mother, who had died years ago, no one had spoken to me with such exasperated, protective tenderness in a very long time. After that night, everything changed. Every time I caused trouble, Tristan would carry me into his private lounge. Outside, his staff thought I was getting a lecture. In reality, he locked the door and made love to me until I begged for mercy. Slowly, I realized I was getting addicted. Was it because he was too good in bed? Or was I just desperate for someone to care about me? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I was done for. I had fallen for him. Hard. We kept up this toxic, beautiful arrangement for eight months. I actually thought he liked me. So, three days ago, I decided to take a leap. I wanted to ask him to be my actual boyfriend. I spent the whole day decorating my penthouse. Roses, candles, even a pair of custom-designed rings. But I waited all night. I watched the candles burn down to nothing. He never showed up. At 2:00 AM, my phone buzzed with a breaking news alert on Instagram. Billionaire Tristan Sterling Spotted Welcoming Mystery Woman at JFK Airport Late at Night. In the photo, Tristan was carefully shielding a girl in a white dress, his eyes softer than I had ever seen them. The comments section was blowing up. “Is that Tristan and Chloe? The golden couple from Princeton!” “I went to college with them! Tristan was cold to everyone except Chloe. If she hadn’t gone abroad for medical treatment, they’d probably be married by now!” “Exactly! Chloe is his one true love. He hasn’t touched another woman since she left.”

Scarlett’s POV Reading those comments felt like falling into an arctic lake. If Tristan had always had someone else in his heart, what was I? A convenient warm body? A high-end toy? I didn’t want to believe it. I told myself there had to be an explanation. But now, seeing Tristan carry Chloe into that hotel with my own eyes, I couldn’t play pretend anymore. My eyes stung, and a sharp, physical pain bloomed in my chest. But I didn’t jump out of the cab. I didn’t scream, and I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I pulled out my phone and called my father. “You wanted me to marry that crippled billionaire in San Francisco, right? Fine. I’ll do it.” “Are you serious, Scarlett?” My father’s voice practically squealed with excitement. I felt a wave of disgust. “I have one condition.” “Anything! Just name it!” “I’ll tell you when I get home.” I hung up and took one last look at the hotel entrance. My pride wouldn’t let me crawl to Tristan and beg for answers. I wouldn’t ask him why he slept with me for eight months while loving someone else. Men like him were just like my father. Unfaithful, garbage human beings. I would just treat this past year like a bad fever dream. I gave the driver my father’s address. The moment I walked into the Vance estate, my father rushed over. “You’re really agreeing to the San Francisco marriage? What is your condition? Tell me.” My stepmother, Winona, stood beside him, her eyes gleaming with greed. “My condition is simple,” I said, my voice steady. “I want to legally cut ties with you. I want a total severance of our relationship.” The air in the room froze. My father’s face turned purple. “Are you insane?! Do you hear what you’re saying?” “Perfectly,” I cold-smiled. “You cheated on my mother. You brought this cheap woman into our house and drove my mother to jump off a building. The day she died, I stopped recognizing you as my father anyway.” I stared at his flushed face. “Now, the Sinclair family in San Francisco is offering a ten-billion-dollar merger deal for a bride. You don’t care that the guy is in a wheelchair. You don’t care about my happiness. You’ve been trying to force me into this for two months.” “If I didn’t agree today, you would have drugged me and shipped me there yourself, wouldn’t you?” “You’re a selfish monster. You killed your wife, and now you’re selling your daughter to a disabled man. Why should I keep your last name?” I sneered. “Besides, once I’m gone, you can finally bring your mistress’s daughter into this house. You three can play happy family.” My father trembled with rage. “Fine. We will cut ties. But you are getting on that plane to San Francisco in two weeks. They are coming to collect you.” He paused, then spat, “And as for Winona’s daughter, Chloe, she is already back. I only kept her away to spare your dramatic feelings. Since you are being so cooperative, she is moving in tonight.” I laughed out loud. “Raising another man’s kid while selling your own biological daughter. You really are a special kind of trash.” “Because Chloe is nothing like you! She is sweet, polite, and respectful! All you do is scream and ruin my reputation!” My chest throbbed with pain, but I forced my chin up. “Great! Since she’s so perfect, go ahead and adopt her. From today on, we are strangers.” I turned to walk upstairs. Winona stepped in front of me, pretending to be the victim. “Scarlett, how can you talk to your father like that? The Vance Group is struggling. He’s only doing this marriage alliance to save us. Can’t you show some gratitude?” I stopped. I looked at her, the hatred I had suppressed for years boiling over. “What? Now that I’m leaving, you think you can play the lady of the house and lecture me?” I took a step closer, crowding her. “Listen to me, Winona. Even if my mother and I are gone, it doesn’t change the fact that you are a cheap home-wrecker. Your daughter can inherit this whole house, but she will always be the offspring of a mistress.” Winona’s face went pale. She couldn’t find a single word to say. My father lost his mind. He rushed over and slapped me across the face. The loud slap echoed in the foyer. I had insulted him, and he was just angry. But the moment I insulted Winona, he resorted to violence. This was my father. He would hit his own flesh and blood to protect his mistress. I held my burning left cheek, my eyes dry. I didn’t even feel disappointment anymore. Just absolute, dead silence. I didn’t say another word. I turned and walked up to my room. Once the door was shut, my knees buckled, and I slid down to the floor, burying my face in my knees. I let myself cry. I let all the hurt and betrayal wash over me. When I was done, I wiped my tears, got up, and dragged out my suitcase. I packed only the things that truly belonged to me. Tristan was gone. This house was gone. I was leaving it all behind. As I dragged my suitcase downstairs, I saw maids carrying pink luggage into the house. “Whose stuff is this?” I asked the butler. The butler whispered nervously, “Miss Vance, it’s… Chloe’s…” Before he could finish, a familiar figure appeared at the door. Chloe, wearing her innocent white dress, stood there looking fragile.

Scarlett’s POV My mind went blank. My blood turned to ice. I never expected that Winona’s daughter, the one recovering in Europe all these years, was Chloe. Tristan’s Chloe. The next second, Chloe smiled sweetly and walked toward me, trying to hug me. “Scarlett. I’m Chloe. We’re going to be sisters now.” Before she could touch me, I shoved her away. “Get away from me! We are not family.” Chloe stumbled back, looking deeply hurt. “Scarlett… do you really hate me that much?” “Scarlett! Where are your manners?!” my father bellowed, rushing over. “Chloe was just trying to be nice! Why did you push her?” “I’ve never had manners. You knew that.” “You!” My father shook with rage but couldn’t do anything. He looked at my suitcase. “So, you’re moving out?” “You brought your mistress and her bastard daughter into my mother’s house. Of course I’m leaving. The air in here is making me sick.” My father sneered. “Fine! Chloe actually loves your bedroom anyway. Since you’re leaving, your room belongs to her now.” I didn’t waste another breath. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out the door. Behind me, my father yelled, “Go! But don’t you dare forget what you promised! You are marrying Sinclair in two weeks!” “Don’t worry. I keep my word.” I didn’t look back. I went straight to the penthouse suite of the most expensive hotel in Manhattan and checked in. Over the next few days, I went on a reckless shopping spree. Bespoke diamond necklaces, limited-edition designer bags, luxury cars. I bought everything without looking at the price. I didn’t know if I was venting my pain or trying to drain my father’s bank account. My phone vibrated constantly in my bag. I ignored every call. But when I returned to the hotel lobby carrying a dozen luxury shopping bags, I found my suitcases piled up near the front desk. “What is the meaning of this?” I demanded. The receptionist looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Miss Vance. Your black card was declined. According to hotel policy, we had to check you out.” My phone buzzed. A text from my father popped up: Since you want to cut ties, don’t use my money. I’ve frozen all your accounts. I’m also sending people to confiscate everything you just bought today! I stared at the screen until my eyes burned. I texted back: Go ahead. Freeze my accounts? Take my things? Fine. I would just make sure that when Damian Sinclair’s people came to pick me up, the ten-billion-dollar dowry went directly into my personal account, not the Vance Group’s. My father’s company was drowning. Without that money, he would go bankrupt. I couldn’t wait to see if Winona and Chloe would stay with an old, bankrupt man. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was Tristan. Why aren’t you at the office today? I ignored it, tucking the phone away, and dragged my suitcase down the street. The Sinclair family wasn’t picking me up for another ten days. Where was I supposed to live? How was I supposed to eat? I had zero cash. Eventually, my legs gave out. I dragged myself under a bridge near Central Park, planning to just huddle there for the night. But the moment I sat down, a sketchy-looking man crept closer. “Hey, pretty girl. All alone?” “Get lost!” “Don’t be like that. Let’s have some fun.” His filthy hand reached for my shoulder. I raised my hand to slap him. “Ahhh!” A sickening crack echoed. I didn’t even see him arrive. Tristan was suddenly there, twisting the man’s wrist until the bone snapped. Before I could react, Tristan grabbed my arm and threw me and my suitcase into the back of his Maybach. “Let me go!” “Are you fighting with your father again?” Tristan gripped my wrists, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re homeless, and you didn’t think to call me?” His words made my throat tighten. In the past, whenever I fought with my dad, Tristan would search the whole city, find me, and carry me back to his place. “Did he hurt you?” he would always ask. “Why didn’t you come to me?” Back then, I actually believed he cared. But now… He had a whole woman in his heart, yet he kept me in his bed. He was just as disgusting as my father. And out of all the women in the world, why did it have to be Chloe? Why her? “Let me go!” I screamed, biting his hand hard. He flinched but didn’t let go. He stepped on the gas and drove off.

Scarlett’s POV The black Maybach pulled into Tristan’s private estate. He grabbed my suitcase and opened the front door, his voice calm as if nothing had happened. “Just like before. Stay here until you cool off.” I stood at the threshold, my hands clenched into fists. “I’m only staying for ten days. After that, I’m leaving New York, and I will never bother you again.” Tristan froze. “Never bother me again?” He turned around, his eyes dark and unreadable behind his glasses. “Are you sure you can actually do that?” His words felt like a physical blow to my chest. He knew. He had watched me change from a rebellious girl who hated him to a woman who was helplessly in love with him. He knew how much I loved him. Yet, knowing that, he kept his “one true love” in his heart while watching me drown in his bed. My nails dug into my palms. I looked up, staring straight into his cold eyes. “Did you know Chloe is my stepmother’s daughter?” Tristan slowly loosened his tie. “I found out recently.” I was silent for a long time. The silence was suffocating, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking: “What is she to you?” Tristan took off his tie, his movements relaxed. “She was my classmate. Years ago, she saved my life in a car accident. Her health has been fragile ever since, which is why she was recovering abroad.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly in a quiet warning. “I know you hate your stepmother. But Chloe has nothing to do with that. Don’t take it out on her.” Chloe. How tenderly he said her name. A dull ache spread through my chest. I didn’t say another word. I turned, went upstairs, and locked myself in the guest room. That night, Tristan didn’t push my door open. He didn’t pin me to the mattress. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with a bitter smile. His true love was back. Of course he had no use for me now. Which was perfect. I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with a man who was thinking of another woman anyway. It made me want to throw up. For the next five days, I actively avoided him. I only went downstairs after he left for work, and I went to bed before he came home. We lived under the same roof, but we were like ghosts passing in the dark. But I was never the type to sit quietly. After five days of isolation, I was going stir-crazy. On the sixth afternoon, an acquaintance from our social circle called me. “Scarlett! Where have you been? We’re having a party at the club tonight. You coming?” I was bored out of my mind. “Sure. I’ll be there.” At 8:00 PM, I arrived at the club. I walked down the dimly lit VIP hallway and pushed open the door to the private suite. I froze. My friends weren’t there. Tristan was sitting on the leather sofa, holding a glass of red wine. Beside him sat Chloe. Chloe was leaning in close, whispering something to him with a bright, beautiful smile. Several of Tristan’s wealthy friends were lounging around them. The moment I opened the door, everyone looked at me. One of the guys smirked. “Well, look who it is. The wild Miss Vance.” “Sorry. Wrong room,” I said, turning to leave. “Scarlett!” Chloe called out, rushing over to grab my arm. “Where have you been? Your father is worried sick!” I looked at Tristan. His face was a mask of cold indifference. He hadn’t told Chloe that I was staying at his villa. Of course he hadn’t. If Chloe found out, it would ruin his clean image. He didn’t want his precious angel to know how he had been ravishing me in his bed for the past eight months.

Scarlett’s POV As I stood there lost in my thoughts, Chloe squeezed my hand tightly, acting like a loving sister. “Scarlett, stop fighting with your dad. He hasn’t eaten since you ran away. He’s lost so much weight.” Chloe looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Even if you’re angry, you shouldn’t sleep around or stay at cheap motels. Come home with me, apologize to him, okay?” Looking at her face, which resembled Winona’s, my stomach turned. I shoved her hand off me. “You’re a nobody who has zero Vance blood. My fights with my father are none of your business. Why are you acting like you own me?” Chloe gasped, her eyes immediately welling up with tears. She looked at Tristan as if she had been physically assaulted. Tristan frowned, set his wine glass down, and walked over. “Chloe is only trying to mend your relationship with your father,” he said, his voice deep and stern. “Even if you don’t appreciate it, you don’t need to attack her.” He paused, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Apologize to Chloe.” He wanted me to apologize to her? My heart twisted. I looked up at him, letting out a mocking laugh. “Who do you think you are, Tristan? Just because you tell me to do something, you think I’m going to obey like a dog?” Tristan’s frown deepened. The annoyance in his eyes was clear. Ever since he took me in to “teach me rules,” I had never dared to openly defy him like this. Chloe quickly grabbed Tristan’s arm, playing the martyr. “It’s fine, Tristan. Scarlett hates me and my mom. It’s natural she’d say mean things. I shouldn’t have interfered. I really have no right.” I sneered. “At least you know your place.” I turned on my heel and walked out. I found the other suite where my actual acquaintances were drinking. “Hey! Scarlett’s here!” someone yelled. “We thought you went off the grid!” I grabbed a shot of tequila and slammed it down, staying silent. But within ten minutes, the heavy oak door was kicked open. Tristan stood at the entrance, radiating pure, suffocating anger. He swept his cold eyes over the room. “Get the hell out. Now.” Seeing his face, my friends didn’t even dare to grab their coats. They scrambled out of the room like rats. The door slammed shut. Tristan loosened his tie as he walked toward me. Sensing danger, I shrank back into the sofa. “What do you think you’re doing?” “Making love to you,” he said flatly. I froze. I couldn’t believe this sophisticated, refined man had just said something so crude. Before I could recover, Tristan was towering over me. I tried to slide away, but he pinned me down into the leather cushions. Using his silk tie, he bound my wrists together in a tight knot and pinned them above my head. “Let me go!” I thrashed wildly. “Tristan, you’re a bastard!” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Have I spoiled you too much lately? Is that why you think you can disrespect my words?” I knew he was talking about Chloe. “Chloe’s mother is a disgusting whore, and so is she! Why should I apologize to a parasite?” I spat. Tristan’s face turned lethal. “It seems I haven’t disciplined you enough. You still don’t know your place.” He slid his hand up my thigh, lifting my dress. “Let me remind you tonight.” I stared at him in horror. “Stop! Don’t touch me!” Tristan let out a dark chuckle. “It’s not like this is our first time, Scarlett. Why are you playing the virgin?” He leaned down, his warm breath sending chills down my neck. “Have you forgotten how loud you scream my name under me?” My face went completely white. The humiliation was overwhelming. Before, when we made love, I thought he cared about me, so I gave him everything. But now, he was using those intimate moments to degrade me. I glared at him with pure hatred. “Chloe is right next door. If you touch me here, aren’t you afraid she’ll walk in and see?” Tristan’s eyes were pitch-black. “That is none of your concern.” With that, he took me brutally. A tear slipped down my cheek as a sob tore from my throat. “You’re a monster, Tristan! You’re a disgusting piece of trash!” I fought against the restraints, kicking and screaming. “Get off me! Don’t touch me!” But the more I fought, the more ruthless his movements became.

Scarlett’s POV My throat was hoarse from screaming. My face was stained with tears, and my wrists were bruised from the silk tie. Tristan calmly buttoned his shirt and adjusted his cuffs, immediately reverting back to the cold, sophisticated billionaire. It was as if the beast from a minute ago had never existed. Meanwhile, I lay there with my dress torn and my hair wild, looking utterly broken. Tristan looked down at me, his eyes dark. “I prefer you like this, helpless. Not loud and arrogant.” A wave of intense humiliation washed over me. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing. Seeing me like this, his expression softened slightly. “Scarlett, be good.” He leaned down, untying my wrists and kissing the tears from my eyes. “If you just listen to me, I won’t have to be so rough.” I jerked my head away from his lips, letting out a cold laugh. “In your dreams.” I used to listen to him because I thought he cared. I thought we had something real. Now I knew I was just a physical outlet. “Tristan, you are a hypocrite and a coward,” I whispered, my voice cracked. “You love Chloe, yet you keep me in your bed. You’re disgusting. I hate you.” Tristan stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Disgusting?” Before he could say more, his phone rang. He frowned and answered it. A panicked voice came through the speaker. “Tristan! Where are you? Some drunk guys are harassing Chloe in the VIP lounge! Get over here now!” Tristan’s face fell. He hung up and looked at me. “I’ll finish disciplining you at home.” With that, he turned and ran out, leaving me shivering and ruined on the sofa. Watching him run to her, my heart finally shattered into dust. It was always the same. The second Chloe needed him, I was garbage to be thrown away. I bit my lip, forcing myself to stop crying. Men like him didn’t deserve my tears. I spent a long time cleaning myself up, fixing my dress and hair until I looked presentable before walking out of the suite. At the end of the hallway, a loud commotion was happening. I saw Tristan shielding Chloe behind him. Two drunk men were lying on the floor, groaning in pain. He was beating them mercilessly, his face contorted with a primal rage I had never seen before. Chloe, sensing my presence, turned her head. Our eyes met. A slow, victorious smirk spread across her lips. I ignored her, walking right past them with a blank face. I walked out of the club and stood on the curb, waiting for a cab. The cold night wind blew, chilling me to the bone. I wrapped my arms around myself. “Scarlett.” A soft, weak voice called out behind me. I turned. It was Chloe. She walked over, looking concerned. “Scarlett, you don’t have a car? Let me drive you home.” I looked at the keys in her hand. A brand-new Porsche. My father was indeed generous to his stepdaughter. “No thanks,” I said coldly. “Riding in a mistress’s daughter’s car makes me feel dirty.” Chloe’s sweet facade dropped instantly. “Who are you calling a mistress? Scarlett, say that again!” “Your mother is a home-wrecking whore. If you like hearing it, I can repeat it all night.” As we argued, a pair of blinding headlights suddenly rounded the corner. An out-of-control SUV was speeding directly toward us. In that split second, Tristan rushed out of the club. Without a single hesitation, he threw his arms around Chloe and pulled her out of the way. And I… Crash. The impact threw me onto the hard asphalt. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my vision fading. I could hear distant screams and running footsteps, but I couldn’t tell who they belonged to. As darkness took over, my mind flashed back to last winter. After a massive fight with my father, I had run to my mother’s grave. I sat there in the snow, crying until I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was wrapped in a warm wool coat. Tristan had found me. He held me tightly against his chest, shielding me from the freezing wind. He had looked down at me and said, “Whenever you’re hurt, come to me. Don’t carry it alone.” Those were the sweetest words I had ever heard. I had cried into his chest like a child, believing that after my mother’s death, I finally had someone who loved me. But now… The man who promised to protect me had chosen to save another woman, leaving me to die on the street.

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On the day the family successor was chosen, I stood there with absolute confidence, holding my straight-A academic transcripts and business certificates. Instead, Grandma Margaret announced that the successor of the Shea Group would be my older sister, Chloe—who knew nothing about business and only knew how to cook. I froze. For seventeen years, I had spent every single day preparing to take over the family legacy. My parents had been brutally strict with me, constantly reminding me that “the heir must learn to carry the weight of the world.” Yet, they were always incredibly gentle with Chloe. Chloe was allowed to go on road trips with her friends, while I had to wake up at 5:00 AM for deportment and etiquette classes. Chloe could eat whatever snacks she wanted, while I was forced on a strict, bland diet to maintain a perfect, camera-ready figure. Chloe was allowed to date, but I wasn’t even allowed to pick up a phone call from a boy. I thought it was all a test. A necessary trial to become the CEO. I believed the throne was mine. I had even comforted Chloe, telling her that I would always take care of her once I ran the company. But then, Grandma Margaret tasted the dish Chloe made, and declared her the sole heir on the spot. Only then did I realize the final test was never about business—it was about cooking a recipe from Grandma’s legendary artisanal book. I didn’t even know the difference between basic spices. My only remaining value to this family was to be married off. I turned to my parents for help. My father merely said that the Vance family’s heir would bring me “happiness.” My mother added that I was “born for high society anyway.” I finally got it. Grandma’s recipe book had been given to Chloe years ago. The torture I endured all these years wasn’t training for leadership. It was preparation to make me the perfect trophy wife. I ripped off the diamond engagement ring and threw it. I’m not accepting this marriage. And I’m never coming back to this house.

“Maya, pick up the ring.” Eleanor’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a suffocating weight. She bent down, picked up the diamond ring sent by the Vance family, and turned it under the light, as if checking a piece of merchandise for scratches. I didn’t move. She sighed, walked over, and forced the ring back into my palm. Her manicured nails dug into my wrist, just hard enough to hurt. “I know you feel hurt.” “But this marriage is something the whole family has carefully planned. The Vance family’s distribution channels complement our supply chain perfectly.” “You marrying him isn’t a sacrifice. It’s a win-win.” When she said “win-win,” her tone was exactly like a CEO signing a contract. I placed the ring back on the coffee table and pushed it away. “I won’t marry him.” Eleanor’s fake smile vanished in less than two seconds. “Do you honestly think you have a choice?” She unzipped her designer handbag and tossed a document in front of me. It was the Shea Group’s new equity structure. Chloe’s name was highlighted under the successor column. My name was at the very bottom, in the appendix under “Strategic Merger Alliance.” “Look closely. Your role in this family has always been decided.” Her voice was patronizingly sweet, like she was talking to a child, as her fingers flipped the pages for me. “Chloe runs the company, you marry into the Vance family. This two-way strategy is the only way the Shea family stays on top.” “If you refuse, your grandma, your father… everyone will be disappointed in you.” Disappointed. That word, coming from her mouth, was more violent than any threat. I started etiquette lessons at five. I learned financial statements at seven. I was shipped off to a strict boarding school at twelve, and by fifteen, I had three business certifications. Every time I was so exhausted that I cried at my desk, Eleanor would only say through the closed door: “The heir of this family cannot disappoint us.” So, I practically killed myself trying to make them proud. “Mom, I’ve been taking exams for seventeen years, and now you’re telling me the test was about cooking?” “How is that fair?” There was not a single shred of guilt on Eleanor’s face. “Who says it’s not fair? Chloe worked hard too. She spent five years studying Grandma’s recipes. That’s a skill.” “Your skills are just different. Socializing, negotiating, networking… those are a hundred times more useful in high society than cooking.” “I’m praising you, Maya. Don’t you see that?” The door pushed open, and Chloe walked in carrying a bowl of creamy mushroom soup. She wore a cozy cream-colored knit dress, her hair casually tied back, looking like she had just stepped out of a high-end cooking show. “Maya, please don’t fight with Mom.” She placed the bowl in front of me, carefully angling the spoon toward my hand. “I didn’t expect Grandma’s decision either. To be honest, I don’t even care about being the CEO.” “If you really hate the marriage that much, I can talk to Grandma. I’ll ask her to reconsider.” Her words were flawless. Beautifully packaged. But on her wrist was Grandma Margaret’s signature emerald bracelet. Grandma had always said that bracelet was reserved for the matriarch of the Shea family. She wasn’t wearing it three days ago. “Chloe, when did you get that bracelet?” Chloe looked down at her wrist, smiling with mock shyness. “Grandma gave it to me this afternoon. She said I should get used to wearing it.” Get used to it. Meaning, while I still believed I was running for the successor spot, she had already begun the transition. Seeing me stare at the bracelet, Eleanor quickly intervened. “Chloe, go back to the kitchen and watch the stove. I need a private word with Maya.” Chloe nodded. Before she left, she gave me a look. It was so gentle that, for a split second, I almost believed she cared about me. But then she said: “Maya, if you ever get bullied after the wedding, just come home. I’ll make sure they treat you right.” It was the ultimate pity of a winner. The moment the door clicked shut, Eleanor’s face darkened completely. “Look at Chloe, she is so mature. And look at you, throwing a tantrum.” “Other girls would kill for this marriage proposal, and you just throw the ring away.” “Maya, you need to think carefully about whether you still want a place in this family.” My fingers gripped the equity document until my knuckles turned white. Seventeen years. I thought they were shaping me to be a leader. Turns out, I was just a highly-polished commodity waiting for the highest bidder. The mushroom soup was still steaming. I took a sip. It was rich, completely masking the earthy taste of the mushrooms. Just like the warmth of this family—it looked cozy on the surface, but it was only there to cover up their real, ugly intentions. “I’ll think about it,” I said quietly. Eleanor’s tense shoulders finally relaxed. “That’s my girl.” She patted my shoulder, like she was putting a decorative vase back into its proper place.

The next morning, Arthur sat at the head of the dining table, his Wall Street Journal spread out in front of him. His coffee was cold, untouched. I sat down in my usual spot. Four chairs. Three people were already eating. My plate was empty. “Dad, I don’t have silverware.” Arthur didn’t even look up. He just flipped the page. “Get her a plate.” Eleanor took a bite of the pan-seared salmon Chloe had made. “Chloe, your cooking is incredible. This tastes exactly like Grandma’s signature recipe.” Chloe smiled, serving her another bowl of vegetable soup. “Eat up, Mom. I’m testing Grandma’s thirty-seventh recipe today, the Apple Tart. I’ll make it for dinner.” The maid finally brought my plate. In front of me was a bowl of plain oatmeal and a single slice of whole-wheat toast. Across from me, they had eggs, bacon, sausage, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Noticing my gaze, Eleanor offered a lazy explanation. “You’re meeting the Vance family next month. You can’t afford to gain weight. Self-control is everything.” I looked at the dry bread and took a bite. It tasted like cardboard. Arthur suddenly folded his newspaper. He adjusted his posture, looking at me with his signature corporate negotiation face. “Maya, your mother told me about your little reaction last night.” “I get that you’re emotional right now, but let me show you some numbers. You’ll understand.” He slid his phone across the table, showing a graph. “The Vance Group’s revenue is three times ours this year. Their cold-chain logistics cover the entire East Coast—which is exactly where Shea Group has a blind spot.” “If you marry Ethan Vance, their distribution channels become ours. You’d basically be unlocking a massive new market for Chloe to run.” “Maya, I would never hurt you. I’ve met Ethan. He’s handsome, well-educated, and frankly, he’s more than you could ask for.” More than I could ask for. As if I were a discounted item, and Ethan Vance was paying a generous price. “Dad, how many times have you actually met Ethan?” Arthur paused, thinking. “Twice. Once at a charity gala, once at a golf club.” “And twice was enough for you to sell your daughter to him?” The air in the room instantly froze. Eleanor slammed her fork down, glaring at me. “Watch your tone with your father!” Arthur didn’t get angry. Instead, he put on a deeply patient face, like a CEO explaining strategy to a clueless intern. “Maya, marriage isn’t a game. It’s about mergers, acquisitions, and resource matching. Why do you think your mother married me?” He smiled at Eleanor. They exchanged a knowing, calculated look. There was affection in that look, sure, but it was mostly the trust of two business partners. And I was their next transaction. Chloe walked out of the kitchen with the last dish, catching the end of the conversation. “Maya, don’t stress too much,” she said, sitting across from me. Her voice was like sugar. “Dad and Mom are actually doing you a favor. Think about it. Everything you’ve learned since you were a kid—golf, horseback riding, social etiquette—isn’t that the perfect starter pack for a billionaire’s wife?” “You’ll thrive in the Vance family.” “But if you stay at Shea Group… you haven’t even touched Grandma’s recipes. How would you even gain the board’s respect?” Every single word was a reminder: You can’t cook, so you don’t deserve the crown. But nobody ever asked me why I couldn’t cook. From the moment I could remember, Eleanor banned me from the kitchen. The oil ruins your skin. The heat is hard to control. If you get a scar, you’ll lose points in your etiquette presentation. Meanwhile, Chloe was allowed in the kitchen with Grandma since she was five, learning ingredients, sauces, and cooking techniques. I had never even seen the cover of that legendary recipe book. It wasn’t that I refused to learn. They just never let me. “Chloe, can I see that recipe book?” Chloe’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. “The book is with Grandma. I only get to read it when she’s teaching me.” Eleanor quickly cut in. “Alright, let’s not talk about work at the table. Maya, go get your hair done this afternoon. The Vances are coming next week, and you need to look flawless.” I looked down at my oatmeal. It was tasteless. But I forced myself to swallow it, bite by bite. Not because I was being obedient. But because I suddenly realized that at this table, I had zero cards left to play. I had to eat what they fed me. I had to marry who they chose. Unless… I flipped the entire board. At 2:00 PM, Eleanor told me to go to the salon. I said okay. But the moment I walked out of the estate, I didn’t go to the salon. I went to the bank. Seventeen years of allowance, academic cash prizes, and competition awards were all stashed in a private account Eleanor knew nothing about. Balance: $83,400. Not a fortune, but enough to get me started. I stood at the ATM, changed my PIN, and then walked into a phone store to buy a burner SIM card. When I got home, Eleanor asked why my hair looked the same. “The salon was overbooked. I rescheduled for tomorrow.” She just hummed and didn’t ask further. At dinner, Chloe served her Apple Tart. Grandma Margaret showered her with praise via FaceTime. Everyone was laughing. No one noticed that throughout the entire dinner, I was counting the things in this house that actually belonged to me. A bowl of oatmeal, some dry toast. That was it.

The Vance family arrived earlier than expected. Eleanor spent three days preping me—fittings, posture checks, and memorizing the Vance family’s profile. Ethan’s father loved rare Earl Grey tea. His mother was severely allergic to shellfish. Ethan himself was an LSE graduate who hated when people brought up his academic pedigree. I memorized every detail like I was preparing for a corporate interview. During my final fitting, Eleanor took me to the most expensive boutique in Manhattan. While the tailor adjusted my dress, Eleanor stood by the mirror, giving orders. “Take the waist in another half-inch. She’s lost weight.” “Keep the neckline conservative. Ethan’s grandmother is old school.” “Use the champagne-gold silk. It looks expensive, but it won’t upstage the bride—even though she’s not the bride yet.” The designer nodded, smiling. I stood in the center of the triple-angle mirror, looking at myself. For seventeen years, they had sculpted me into a perfect outline. Flawless posture, pristine skin, measured steps, and a smile that never showed more than four teeth. Turns out, none of this was for the CEO seat. It was just to make sure I fetched a high price on the marriage market. “Mom, I don’t like this color.” Eleanor didn’t even look back. “Your preferences don’t matter, Maya. What the Vances like matters.” As we left the boutique, my phone buzzed. It was Chloe. “Maya, come home for dinner tonight. I made that black truffle and prosciutto flatbread you loved when we were kids.” “Since when did I like black truffle and prosciutto flatbread?” There was a second of awkward silence on the line. “Oh? Was that not you? I must have mixed you up with someone else.” She didn’t even know what I liked to eat, yet she used this overly sweet tone to pretend she did. I loved spicy food. And my entire life, not a single person in this family remembered. When we got home, the flatbread was indeed on the table. Eleanor pointed at it, looking proud. “Chloe made this specifically for you. Taste it.” I took a bite. It was sweet. I put it down. “I want something spicy.” The entire table went dead silent. Arthur frowned. “Chloe made this out of the goodness of her heart. Why are you being so difficult?” Eleanor sighed. “Maya, can you please just give us one day of peace?” Chloe bit her lower lip, looking incredibly hurt. “Maya, I’m so sorry… I got it wrong again. If you don’t like it, I can make you something else?” When she said that, Arthur and Eleanor immediately looked at her with pure sympathy. As if she was the victim, not me. “No need.” I finished my oatmeal, stood up, and went to my room. Behind me, I could hear Eleanor comforting Chloe. “Don’t worry about her. Just a childish tantrum. She’ll get over it.” “Even Grandma praised your cooking. Don’t let her ruin the mood.” I walked into my room and didn’t bother locking the door. I couldn’t. Eleanor had ordered the lock removed from my door last month, claiming “family members don’t need secrets.” Yet, Chloe’s room had a fingerprint lock. I sat on my bed, put the burner SIM card into an old phone, and texted my uncle, Julian, who lived in France. Julian was Eleanor’s younger brother. He ran a wine export business in Lyon and kept his distance from the family. When he visited us for Christmas years ago, he was the only one who secretly took me out for spicy street food. Eleanor called him “unstable” and told me to stay away from him. But he was my only lifeline left. “Uncle Julian, it’s Maya. If I wanted to leave the country, could you help me?” The message sent. Silence. I didn’t expect much. I turned off the burner phone, took out my main phone, and politely replied to Eleanor’s schedule for tomorrow. “Got it. I’ll be ready by 9:00 AM.” She replied instantly with a heart emoji. On the day of the family meeting, I wore the champagne-gold dress. Standing in the living room, I felt like a freshly painted porcelain doll. Ethan Vance didn’t show up. His father laughed it off, saying he was held up with some urgent business. His mother, however, inspected me thoroughly. She took my hand and smiled. “Beautiful, elegant. You can tell she was raised right.” Eleanor beamed with pride. “Our Maya has been trained since she was a child. Arts, business, etiquette—she is flawless.” Chloe came out of the kitchen carrying a tray of rosewater pannacotta with edible gold foil, serving Mrs. Vance with a sweet smile. “Please try this, Mrs. Vance. I made it myself.” Mrs. Vance took a bite and praised her endlessly. Chloe seized the moment and giggled. “Once Maya marries into your family, I’ll make sure to send some over to you every week.” She positioned herself as the generous benefactor. As if my marriage was her gift to the Vances, and she was the saint who made it all happen. Before leaving, Mr. Vance shook Arthur’s hand. “The alliance is sealed. We will fully support the kids.” I stood at the door, waving them goodbye with a picture-perfect smile. Back in my room, I turned on my burner phone. Julian had replied. “Maya? Why are you suddenly texting me? What’s going on?” I stared at the screen for a long time. I typed and deleted several messages, and finally sent: “Uncle Julian, can you help me get a French student visa? I want to study abroad.” Two minutes later, Julian replied with three words: “Send your documents.” I didn’t cry. I just gripped the phone tightly, went to the bathroom to wash my face, took off the gold dress, and folded it. I hid it at the very bottom of my closet. I would never wear it again.

The visa process was way more complicated than I expected. Degree verification, language tests, financial proofs, housing sponsors—everything required time. Julian helped me go through the list over Snapchat voice calls. “Do you speak French?” “I self-studied in high school. Level B1.” “Good enough for a language prep program. I’ll sponsor your financial proof and arrange your apartment. You just handle your transcripts and degree certificates.” He paused, then asked, “Does Chloe know? Or your mom?” “No. Nobody knows.” “When do you plan to leave?” “As soon as possible.” Julian was silent for a few seconds. “Maya, studying abroad isn’t just running away. Have you thought about how you’ll survive out there?” “I’ve thought it through.” And I had. Fighting them directly was useless. I had thrown the ring, questioned the recipe book, and confronted Arthur. And every time I rebelled, they just tightened their grip. Eleanor took my lock. They cut off my credit cards. Arthur locked my passport in his study’s safe, and only he knew the combination. They used “family love” as a cage and smiles to push me toward the Vances. So, I had to stop fighting openly. I started acting. Eleanor wanted me to take flower-arranging classes? I went. Arthur wanted me to memorize the Vance family tree? I memorized it. Chloe wanted me to taste her new dishes? I smiled and said they were delicious. Every day, I played my part flawlessly, like a well-programmed machine. Only late at night, under the covers, did I open my burner phone to work on my visa. The passport was the hardest part. The safe was in Arthur’s study. It was a six-digit code. I tried his birthday and their anniversary, but neither worked. On the eleventh day, Eleanor took me to a spa. While waiting, she took a call from Arthur. “What? The safe combination? How should I know? You set it. Isn’t it Chloe’s birthday?” She didn’t even try to hide the conversation from me. In her eyes, I had completely surrendered. I was no longer a threat. Chloe’s birthday. June 8th. 0608. No, it had to be six digits. June 8th, 2003. 030608. That night, I waited until the house was dead silent. At 2:40 AM, I slipped barefoot into Arthur’s study. 0-3-0-6-0-8. The safe clicked open. My passport was at the bottom, tucked between property deeds. I pulled it out, closed the safe, and scrambled the lock. The whole thing took less than forty seconds. Back in my room, I slid the passport into the secret lining of my backpack and lay back down. My heart was hammering, but my hands were steady. Three days later, my visa was approved. Julian emailed me the digital copy with a note: I booked your flight. Direct to Lyon next Tuesday. Confirm the time. Next Tuesday. My eighteenth birthday. And the exact day Eleanor planned to host the Vance family for our official engagement party. I texted back on the burner phone: Confirmed. Then, I cleared all chat histories, turned off the phone, and hid it back in my bag. The night before my birthday, Eleanor knocked gently on my door. “Maya, tomorrow is your birthday. I ordered a cake. We’ll have a family dinner, and the Vances are sending flowers.” “Thank you, Mom,” I said with a smile. She blinked, clearly surprised by how cooperative I was. “You’ve been so mature lately. I’m really proud of you.” Proud. She was only proud when I fell in line. Birthday morning. I woke up at 5:00 AM and cleaned my room. On my desk, I left only my etiquette graduation certificate and the engagement ring I had refused to wear. I threw my backpack on, put on a pair of flat sneakers, and took one last look at this room with no lock. I closed the door. When I went downstairs, the house was empty. The cake was in the fridge, decorated with pink frosting that read: Happy 18th Birthday, Maya. I didn’t open it. The moment I stepped out of the mansion with my suitcase, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Chloe. “Happy birthday, Maya! I’m cooking a whole feast for you today, all your favorites.” She still had no idea what I actually liked. I didn’t reply. A cab was waiting at the corner. I gave the driver the airport address. At 9:20 AM, Eleanor sent a voice note. “Maya, why is your door locked? Come out and have some cake. The Vances’ flowers just arrived.” At 10:00 AM, Arthur knocked on my door. “Maya? Open up.” No answer. At 10:30 AM, Chloe came out of the kitchen, tying her apron. “Is Maya still throwing a fit? It’s fine, let’s just eat without her.” Eleanor sighed. “Fine, let her cool down. Chloe, why don’t you blow out the candles for Maya?” By the time they lit the candles, I was already on a flight to Lyon. As the city below shrank into tiny dots through the window, I took out my old SIM card, snapped it in half, and dropped it into the trash bag.

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To buy Ethan his dream VIP World Cup tickets, I worked myself to the bone, pulling endless overtime for three months straight to secure my project bonus. But when I finally grabbed those tickets and ran home to surprise him, he was standing in the living room holding a cat. “Ava, you need to pet-sit Cleo for the next few days. Chloe and I are flying out for the World Cup.” I clenched the tickets hidden in my coat pocket. My chest tightened as I stared at him. “Ethan, you already went with her to the last two World Cups. Why her again?” Ethan’s face hardened. “This is Chloe’s birthday wish this year. Come on, Ava, be reasonable. I promise I’ll take you next time.” I didn’t say another word. I turned around, tore the VIP tickets in half, and tossed them right into the trash. He had no idea. There was never going to be a next time. We were supposed to get our marriage license at City Hall right after he got back from the World Cup. But looking at him now, a breakup seemed a hell of a lot better than a future divorce. I didn’t even look up at him. My voice was ice cold. “Did you forget? My birthday wish this year was also to go to the World Cup with you.” “You’re my fiancée, Ava. I’m with you every single day. But Chloe is different—she’s going through a hard time, and I barely get to see her.” His tone grew sharper, annoyed that I was pushing back. My heart felt like a flatline. I looked him dead in the eye. “Out of the three of us, I’m always the outsider, aren’t I?” Ethan’s jaw clenched. “Are you seriously getting jealous again? Stop acting like this!” “Chloe and I grew up together. I’ve told you a thousand times, we are just friends! It’s completely platonic!” “Plus, we are literally getting married next month! Do you really not trust me at all?” “Ava, you are making me so exhausted.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Every single time we argued about Chloe, he put on this exact same “exhausted” show. I kept my face expressionless. “I’m exhausted too.” I added, “If you’re so used to having Chloe by your side, then go with her. I don’t care anymore.” Ethan froze for a second. Seeing that I wasn’t screaming or crying, he assumed I was backing down like I always did. He let out a sigh of relief. “Don’t overthink it, babe. I’ll bring you back a nice souvenir.” The cat in his arms jumped down and ran over to my suitcase. Ethan cleared his throat. “Chloe’s family is out of town, and my parents can’t stand cat hair. She couldn’t find anyone else to watch Cleo last minute. Just watch her for a bit, okay? Thanks, babe.” She gets my man, and I get her cat. Fucking hilarious. Suddenly, Ethan’s phone buzzed. I didn’t need to look to know it was Chloe. Before heading into the study to take the call, he threw a casual order over his shoulder.

“The cat’s been meowing. She’s probably hungry.” “Chloe says Cleo only eats steamed sea bass. Make sure you prep some for her.” After twelve years together, he spoke to me like I was his hired maid. Without waiting for my reply, he walked into the study and shut the door. I ignored the cat, dragged my packed suitcase to the corner, and set it down. My company had given me three days to transition my work before my transfer. In three days, I would be leaving this city. I would also be leaving Ethan, the man I had loved for twelve years. As I walked past the study, I heard Ethan on a FaceTime call with Chloe. Chloe’s high-pitched giggles leaked through the door. Ethan’s voice was filled with smug confidence: “Ava and I have been together for twelve years. She’s not going to make a scene. Just pack your bags and enjoy the game with me.” I froze in the hallway. My blood ran cold. From age eighteen to thirty, my entire youth belonged to him. I was the “perfect, understanding fiancée” his friends always praised. Even when we fought over Chloe, I never let anyone else know. I saved his pride every single time. And that pride became the exact weapon he used to step all over me. A cold smirk crept onto my face. Ethan, I am never playing by your rules again. While packing the rest of my personal things, I realized one of my lavender-infused sleep pillows was missing. I’ve always had terrible anxiety and insomnia due to work stress. My grandmother had traveled all the way to Vermont on a long Greyhound bus just to get me two custom, organic sleep pillows from an old artisan shop. On her way back, she was killed in a tragic car accident. Those pillows were the last, most precious things she ever gave me. Ethan was putting on his coat, getting ready to head out. I stopped him. “Have you seen my other sleep pillow? The lavender one from my grandmother.” Ethan thought for a second. “Check the guest room. Chloe stayed there last week. If it’s not there, it might be at her apartment.” We had lived in this apartment for seven years. At first we rented, then we bought it. I had wanted a cozy one-bedroom, but Ethan insisted on a two-bedroom, claiming “friends might need to crash.” But in seven years, he had never let a single male friend sleep over, even when they were dead drunk. He would always book them a hotel. The guest room was used exclusively by Chloe. And every single time she stayed over, she was “too drunk to drive.” I had told Ethan a million times to call her an Uber or get her a hotel. But he always said, “It’s not safe for a drunk girl to sleep alone in a hotel.” He knew it drove me crazy. He knew I hated it. Yet, he let her sleep under our roof night after night. Usually, he’d just bring her home first and tell me later. Later, because I kept fighting him on it, he even installed a security camera in the living room. His excuse? “See? The camera proves we are clean! We have nothing to hide!” Our apartment didn’t just have a dedicated bedroom for Chloe. Her personal belongings were scattered everywhere—her lipsticks on our counter, her socks in our laundry, her jewelry, and sometimes even her underwear. In the past, I would have thrown a massive fit. But today, I just calmly walked into the guest room. The pillow wasn’t there. Without saying a word, I grabbed my car keys and drove straight to Chloe’s apartment. When Chloe opened the door, she looked shocked. “Ava! What are you doing here? This is literally the first time you’ve ever visited my place!” She smiled, inviting me in. “I’m here for my sleep pillow.” Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second. She turned toward the kitchen. “Let me get you some water.” I knew she was grabbing her phone to text Ethan and play the victim. “Don’t bother. I’m leaving as soon as I get my pillow.” She walked back, rubbing her temples as if she couldn’t remember where it was.

“Why don’t you check the second bedroom on the right? Ethan slept there the other night.” My heart did a painful flip. I had no idea Ethan had been sleeping over at her place. As I walked down her hallway, I noticed her balcony. Hanging on the drying rack, right next to Chloe’s lace underwear, were Ethan’s boxer shorts. Chloe noticed my gaze. She casually shrugged. “Oh, that. Ethan got totally wasted last night. He threw up all over himself and me. I had to wash his clothes.” It sounded like an explanation, but her eyes were dripping with pure provocation. In the past, she wasn’t this obvious. She used to cry and swear that they were “just like siblings.” But lately, she had dropped the act. Now, she was looking at me with a smirk that said, What are you gonna do about it? She was waiting for me to lose my mind, to scream at her, to make a scene so Ethan could come rescue his “sweet, innocent” best friend. But I just nodded calmly. “I see.” I looked away and noticed a bag of Ethan’s favorite coffee beans on her kitchen counter. Just like we had Chloe’s organic protein shakes in our kitchen. I was shockingly calm. Chloe’s smile faded into disappointment. She was annoyed that I wasn’t exploding. I followed her into the bedroom. The moment I stepped in, my eyes landed on the wall above her bed. It was covered in a heart-shaped collage of photos of her and Ethan. Some were casual polaroids, others were professional, high-end studio portraits. Right in the center was a large, framed photo. Chloe was wearing a white satin slip dress with a matching tulle veil, holding Ethan’s hand as they ran through a park. He was in a sleek suit. It wasn’t a wedding photo, but it sure as hell looked like one. Ethan’s smile in every single photo was radiant. He looked happier than he ever did with me. Chloe stood next to me, staring at the wall. “Ethan and I have so many beautiful memories together. Since we were kids.” I felt nothing. When your heart is completely dead, pain ceases to exist. “They are indeed beautiful,” I said quietly. She turned to me, a malicious glint in her eyes. “Ava, do you want to join us next time?” I let out a soft, mocking laugh. She was trying to remind me that no matter how long I was with Ethan, I was just a temporary placeholder in their lifelong romance. I looked her in the eyes. “A game is fun with two people, Chloe. Three just makes it crowded.” I didn’t want to waste another second. “Where is my pillow?” Chloe’s expression soured. She marched over to her closet, pulling things out with dramatic sighing. “Honestly, Ethan is so careless! He always leaves his things in random places. I really need to give him a piece of my mind.” I stood there, watching her little show. She pulled out a pile of Ethan’s clothes from her closet, including his t-shirts and hoodies. “Don’t get get the wrong idea, Ava,” Chloe giggled. “Ethan only crashes here maybe seven nights a month. Guys just need their space sometimes, you know? Especially when you’re traveling for work. He’s just lazy—he likes coming here because I spoil him and do everything for him.” Every single word was a slap in my face.

“I don’t care what you two do,” I said. “Just give me my pillow.” Chloe bit her lip, clearly frustrated by my lack of reaction. She violently whipped open her bedsheets. There, sitting on her bed, was her pink silk bedding. And right next to her pillow was an open box of ultra-thin condoms. She paused, waiting for me to break down. I just checked my watch. “I have a flight to catch. Hurry up.” “Fine. Let’s check the walk-in closet,” she snapped. I followed her. An open suitcase was sitting on the floor. Inside were Chloe’s summer clothes, and resting right on top was a brand-new, unopened box of the exact same ultra-thin condoms. Chloe smirked. “I’m packing for tomorrow. Ethan and I are so excited for the game.” When I didn’t say anything, she added, “The World Cup only happens once every four years, Ava. Everyone wants a seat, but the seats are limited. If you weren’t invited to the game, no matter how hard you squeeze, you’ll never fit in.” My patience finally ran out. My voice went cold as ice. “I am only here for my pillow. As for Ethan? You can keep him. I’m throwing him in the trash.” Chloe gasped, quickly trying to look innocent. “Ava, what are you talking about? Don’t say things like that! I was just talking about soccer!” “My. Pillow,” I demanded, stepping closer. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, right. I remember now. Follow me.” She led me to a third room, which had been converted into a luxury room for her cat, Cleo. The moment I walked in, I saw it. My white-and-mint-green custom sleep pillow was sitting inside the cat litter box, completely soaked in cat urine and covered in feces. The putrid smell hit my nose instantly. My blood boiled. That was my grandmother’s last gift. Chloe put on her best baby voice. “Oh my gosh, Ava, I’m so, so sorry! Cleo is just so playful! It’s just a pillow, though. I’ll buy you a better one on Amazon. Ethan really shouldn’t have left it where the cat could reach it.” SLAP! I swung my hand and slapped Chloe across the face so hard she stumbled backward. “You did that on purpose!” I screamed. “Ava!” A sharp roar came from the doorway. Ethan rushed in, immediately grabbing Chloe and checking the red mark on her cheek. Chloe burst into tears, clinging to his chest. “Ethan, don’t yell at Ava… It’s my fault…” Ethan glared at me, his eyes furious. “It’s just a damn pillow, Ava! Are you insane?!” My eyes were red with rage. I stepped up and slapped Ethan across the face too. “Yes, I am!” Ethan’s face twisted in shock. He stared at me, holding his cheek. “Ava, what the hell is wrong with you?!” “What’s wrong is that I wasted twelve years of my life loving a piece of trash like you! We are done, Ethan!” I turned on my heel and walked out. He screamed after me down the hallway, “Stop throwing a tantrum, Ava!” The next day, after finalizing everything at my office, I dragged my suitcase toward the airport terminal. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Chloe: “I ordered ten new pillows for you on Amazon. They should arrive in a couple of days. Also, Ethan and I are boarding our flight. Cleo is very sensitive, so I made a Google Doc with her feeding schedule and care instructions. Just follow it.” Then came a text from Ethan: “I’ll be back on the 9th. We’ll go straight to City Hall to get our marriage license.”

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I have Delayed Pain Syndrome. When people yelled at me, I just said, “Okay.” When they pushed me around, I said, “Okay,” too. When my parents abandoned me, I said okay. Even when my high school classmates cornered me in the restroom, I still said okay. Physical pain didn’t exist in my world. That was my reality, until I met Chloe and Nathan. One was my best friend who always shielded me, and the other was my boyfriend who looked at me as if I were his entire world. Chloe loved to tap my forehead, sighing in frustration. “Sera, if someone stole Nathan from you one day, would you just stand there like an idiot and say ‘okay’?” I would just giggle blankly. “No way. Nathan would never leave me.” But when we returned to campus after winter break, I saw them. They were locked in a passionate embrace outside our apartment building. Chloe slapped him, tears streaming down her face. “Nathan, stop! How can we do this to Sera?” “I’ll get an abortion. We’ll pretend this never happened.” Nathan’s eyes were bloodshot as he pulled her tightly back into his arms. “No, Chloe, don’t! I’ll talk to Sera. I will take responsibility for our baby!” I stood in the freezing wind, watching the two most important people in my life. For the first time, I realized that even with Delayed Pain Syndrome, my heart could still break.

I lowered my head and texted Julian. “I agree to go abroad with you for treatment.” Julian replied almost instantly: “Great. I’ll pick you up in three days.” I wanted to smile, but my tears fell first. They blurred my phone screen. I wiped my eyes quickly. I shoved my phone into my pocket. Taking a deep breath, I forced a blank smile and walked over to them slowly. “Nathan, Chloe.” I greeted them. They jumped apart, startled. Chloe turned pale, and Nathan looked incredibly guilty. But when they saw my face—always a few seconds too slow to react—they both let out a visible sigh of relief. They knew I had Delayed Pain Syndrome. So they were absolutely sure I hadn’t noticed anything. They quickly smoothed their expressions. They pretended they had just run into each other by accident. But the scent of their mingled perfumes didn’t lie. I asked softly, “Why are you guys back on campus so early?” Nathan instinctively stepped forward to hold my hand. That was how we always were. He would always walk to me and take my hand. But after just half a step, he caught Chloe’s sad, tearful eyes. He froze. Then, he stepped back to stand right beside Chloe. I looked at their shoes, perfectly aligned, and a sharp ache bloomed in my chest. Silence stretched between us. To break the awkwardness, Chloe rushed forward. She grabbed the handle of my heavy suitcase. “This is so heavy! Sera, let me carry it for you!” She spoke too loudly, trying too hard. I blinked, holding back my tears. I was afraid that if I closed my eyes, the bright eighteen-year-old Chloe I loved would vanish forever. I met her during my freshman year. Before I met Nathan. On move-in day, everyone else had their parents helping them. I was all alone. I dragged my heavy suitcase up the stairs, step by step. The students behind me grew impatient and started yelling. I was sweating and panicking. Just then, a bright, beautiful girl ran down the stairs. She grabbed my suitcase. “Are you alone? Let me help you!” She carried my stuff all the way to my room. Later, I learned her name was Chloe, and she was my roommate. From that day on, she was my only best friend. Suddenly, a harsh voice broke my memories. “Drop it!” Nathan strode over and slapped Chloe’s hand away from my suitcase. He pulled Chloe behind him. He frowned, glaring at me coldly. “Sera, Chloe… she hasn’t been feeling well lately! How can you let her carry such a heavy bag for you?” I stood there, frozen. I didn’t know how to react. I was always slow. Slow to react, slow to speak, and slow to feel. Nathan knew this better than anyone. In the past, he never blamed me for being slow. He would just smile gently and carry everything for me. But now, his voice was freezing cold. “Chloe is your best friend, not your maid!” “Stop making her do everything for you!” “Sera, you have a medical condition, not a princess complex!” My face lost all its color. My lips trembled, but no sound came out. Chloe’s expression changed too. Her eyes welled with tears as she pushed Nathan away. “Shut up, Nathan! It’s none of your business what I do!” Ignoring Nathan’s worried gaze, she grabbed my hand. “Sera, ignore him. Let’s go to our room.” I let Chloe drag me along like a puppet. Walking up the cold stairs. The slow-moving needle finally pierced my heart. For the first time, I realized that love and warmth could really be transferred to someone else.

That night, the three of us went to a nice French bistro nearby. To break the tension from the afternoon, Nathan ordered the filet mignon, knowing it was my favorite. In the past, he would always cut the best piece of steak for me first. But this time, he placed the prime cut onto Chloe’s plate. “Chloe, you’re too thin. Eat more,” he murmured. His eyes were filled with undeniable worry. Chloe froze. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with guilt and panic. Nathan realized what he had done. His face turned pale, and he quickly cut another piece of steak for me. “Sera, you eat too.” He quickly added, trying to cover up, “Chloe has had a poor appetite lately. I’m just looking out for her.” I looked at the steak on my plate. I nodded slowly. “Okay.” I chewed the meat slowly. It tasted like ash. Suddenly, Chloe covered her mouth. Her face went pale, and she dashed toward the restroom. Nathan bolted upright instantly. He stared anxiously at the restroom door. He wanted to run after her, but he forced himself to stay. He looked back at me, his hands clenched into tight fists. He was fighting his own instincts. I swallowed the bitter food. I looked up and gave him a faint smile. “Nathan, go check on Chloe. She seems really sick.” Hearing my permission, Nathan looked incredibly relieved. “Sera, wait for me here. I’ll be right back.” Without hesitation, he ran toward the restroom. I sat in the noisy restaurant. Watching him knock frantically on the restroom door. I looked down at my phone calendar. Two days left. The next day, Chloe was incredibly sweet to me. She bought my favorite strawberry cupcakes. She held my hand, her eyes red. “Sera, no matter what happens, we’ll be best friends forever, right?” Her eyes were filled with desperate pleading. I looked at her. I remembered her bright smile from our freshman year when she carried my suitcase. I nodded slowly. “Yeah.” Chloe hugged me tight and sobbed. I didn’t hug her back. My hands hung loosely at my sides, slowly clenching into fists.

The day I was scheduled to leave, it was pouring rain. Chloe insisted on taking me to a bakery across town to get some pastries. She said sweet things would make me feel better. Nathan held an umbrella, walking beside us. But the umbrella was tilted heavily over Chloe’s head. My shoulder was completely soaked by the rain. But I didn’t say anything. That was the “benefit” of my Delayed Pain Syndrome. They thought I couldn’t feel the cold. We used to be inseparable, but now we walked in dead silence. Chloe kept her head down, and Nathan’s voice sounded strained. “Sera… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…” He leaned forward, finally ready to confess the secret he had been hiding for months. But as we reached the intersection. A speeding delivery scooter swerved to avoid a puddle and lost control, rushing straight toward us. It was incredibly fast. I tried to reach out and pull Chloe back, but my slow reflexes caused me to trip and fall toward her instead. Nathan’s face twisted in panic. He shoved me away violently. “Chloe!” His powerful push sent me flying directly into the path of the speeding scooter. The impact was brutal. I was thrown into the air and rolled several times on the rough asphalt. Nathan hugged Chloe tightly, yelling at me in a rage: “Sera! How can you be so cruel? Did you seriously try to push Chloe into the scooter to save yourself?!” But when he saw my blood-covered face, he froze. I lay in a dirty puddle, dark red blood flowing down my forehead, staining the water. Nathan instinctively let go of Chloe and tried to help me up. “Sera, I…” In his arms, Chloe let out a weak whimper. Her eyes fluttered, and she fainted. Nathan stopped moving toward me. “Chloe! Chloe, wake up!” I lay on the ground, watching them. The cold rain hit my wounds. It burned like fire. My Delayed Pain Syndrome had failed me. I felt everything. I struggled to lift my head, looking at Nathan, who was only a few feet away. My lips moved weakly: “Nathan… it hurts…” But the rain was too loud. He didn’t hear me. His mind and eyes were entirely on the unconscious Chloe. Eventually, the wail of sirens pierced the rain. Paramedics rushed out with stretchers. I fought to keep my eyes open. I saw Nathan’s silhouette. But this time, he wasn’t running to save me. He picked Chloe up in his arms. He rushed toward the first ambulance. The medic stopped him. “Sir, the other girl is in critical condition! She’s losing too much blood!” Nathan held Chloe tightly, screaming hysterically: “She just has some scratches!” “Sera can wait! She has Delayed Pain Syndrome! She doesn’t feel pain like we do! She can take the next ambulance!” “But Chloe can’t! She’s pregnant! She can’t stand the sight of blood! She can’t wait!” The young man’s screaming voice pierced through the rain. It tore my heart into pieces.

By the time the second ambulance brought me to the hospital. My body was freezing. My chest felt like it was filled with crushed glass, and every breath brought the taste of blood. Soon, the doctor ran over with my scans, his face pale. “Ruptured spleen! Severe internal bleeding! We need to perform surgery immediately!” “Where are her parents? Call her emergency contact right now! We need a signature, or she won’t make it!” The nurse found my phone. She dialed the number saved under “Emergency Contact.” It rang for a long time before Nathan finally answered. In the background, I could hear Chloe’s soft whimpering. “Hello,” Nathan’s voice sounded exhausted and annoyed. The nurse said urgently, “Are you Seraphina Miller’s family? She has severe internal bleeding and needs emergency surgery right now. Please come to the ER to sign the consent form!” Silence fell over the line. Then, Chloe’s crying got louder. “Nathan, my stomach hurts so much… is our baby going to be okay…” Nathan panicked instantly. He covered the mic and whispered gently, “Don’t worry, Chloe. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.” Then, he spoke back into the phone. “Nurse, don’t let her fool you.” “She has Delayed Pain Syndrome. She doesn’t even know what pain is.” “She’s just jealous. She probably hurt herself on purpose to get attention and force me to leave Chloe.” The nurse screamed, “Sir! The patient is in critical condition! We need your signature to operate!” Nathan took a deep breath, his voice filled with cold disappointment. “Tell Sera that Chloe is pregnant with my baby.” “Since she can’t feel pain anyway, let her sit in the hallway for a while. Maybe she’ll reflect on the horrible thing she did today!” “Once Chloe is stable, I’ll come by to discharge her.” He hung up the phone. The nurse stood there, shocked. She looked at me on the gurney with deep pity. I stared at the bright ceiling lights. Tears finally rolled down my cheeks. They mixed with the blood on my face, soaking the white pillow. In that very moment. The pain that had been delayed for eighteen years hit me like a massive tsunami. It completely consumed me. The agonizing pain of a ruptured spleen, the sharp stabs of broken bones, the raw sting of torn flesh. Everything exploded inside me all at once. But the pain in my heart was a thousand times worse. I gasped like a dying fish, desperate for air, but only managed to cough up blood. “Patient is crashing! Keep her with us!” The doctors and nurses rushed around me. I bit my lip until it bled. Just as the doctor was about to call the police for emergency authorization to operate. A strong, warm hand took the consent form from the doctor. A calm, deep voice spoke: “I am her legal guardian and fiancé. I will sign.” Hearing that familiar, comforting voice, I finally let the darkness take me. … After Chloe’s checkup showed absolutely nothing was wrong. Nathan finally let out a sigh of relief. He sat down and checked his phone. He realized Sera hadn’t sent him a single text. Remembering how she looked lying in the mud, covered in blood, he felt a sudden pang of guilt. He walked toward her ward. But right outside the door. He paused. He went downstairs to buy the pastries Sera loved. He pushed the door open and said casually: “Sera, look what I bought you—” But the room was completely empty. He froze. Frowning, he pulled out his phone and sent an annoyed voice message: “Sera, stop acting like a child. You’re hurt, why aren’t you resting in bed? Where did you go?” But none of his texts went through. A sudden wave of panic hit him. He grabbed a passing nurse, his voice trembling. “Where is the girl who was brought in from the car crash? The one with blood all over her face?” The nurse recognized his voice as the man who had refused to sign the consent form. Her face turned cold and mocking. “Oh, that lady? Her fiancé took her away right after her surgery.”

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After coming home from working late that night, I found my husband applying ointment to the inside of his first love’s thigh. She was wearing my pajamas and lying in my bed. So I immediately listed everything in the house on a secondhand marketplace, including the house itself. When my husband found out, he kicked me out of the master bedroom, furious. “Leah got scammed by her boyfriend, and he abused her too.” “She had nowhere to go, so I brought her to our place.” “How can you have no sympathy at all? Girls should help girls!” The way he guarded the master bedroom stabbed right through me. All of a sudden, I felt that this marital home I had decorated myself was so cold it made me shiver. I did not question him like I usually did, and only turned around in silence and walked toward the couch in the living room. Julian Graham glanced at me, thought I was throwing a tantrum, shook his head helplessly, and went back into the master bedroom. Looking at the message on my phone that someone had booked a viewing for the house, I let out a breath of relief, closed my eyes, and fell asleep. I was not entering this cage called Mrs. Graham anymore.

In the middle of the night, when I woke with a start, my stomach was still cramping. The living room light was still on, and half a glass of cold water sat on the table. Julian Graham had forgotten to buy my stomach medicine again. I braced myself against the couch and sat up, the back of my hand covered in cold sweat. Light seeped through the crack under the master bedroom door, and a woman’s muffled moans came from inside. I let out a cold laugh and walked over while holding on to the wall. When I pushed the door open, the woman sleeping in my bed had stripped down to only her bra and underwear. My husband was beside her, bare from the waist up, holding a bottle of something that looked like lube. There was a suspicious little wad of tissue beside them. When he saw me, he calmly put away the little bottle and pulled the blanket over Leah Shaw, covering her bruised body. Julian Graham frowned at me. “I was just putting medicine on her.” “As you can see, Leah was beaten black and blue by her ex-boyfriend.” “She was in too much pain to sleep, and I really was only helping her put ointment on, so don’t overthink it.” Leah clutched the blanket around herself, looking soft and fragile, and her eyes started to redden. “Julian, maybe I should leave after all. Am I affecting your marriage?” “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to.” She made a show of getting up. Julian Graham pressed her back onto the bed with a heartbroken look and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. When he turned back to face me, only deep disgust remained in his eyes. “Do you have to be so petty? She’s only staying here for a few nights.” I sneered. “Does staying here mean the two of you have to take your clothes off for her medicine?” Julian Graham said, “Stop being unreasonable!” He got off the bed, rushed toward me, grabbed my hand, and dragged me out of the bedroom. He shut the door and pointed at the little sign on it. [Sleeping. Please Do Not Disturb.] The sign was new. I had never bought it. He said, “You’re not allowed to disturb Leah’s rest. From now on, you’re forbidden from coming into the master bedroom!” I said, “This is the house I bought! I can’t come in?” Julian Graham frowned. “She’s only staying in the master bedroom!” I walked toward the guest bedroom. As soon as the door opened, I saw our wedding favors piled inside in a total mess. On the floor, one of my three-thousand-dollar shirts had been used as a rag and was covered in dust. Against the wall was Leah Shaw’s cello, and her yoga mat lay on the floor. I turned to look at him. “She’s staying in the guest room too?” Julian Graham avoided my gaze. “Playing the cello helps stabilize her emotions.” My phone showed a new message notification. I opened my phone. The estimate pushed by the real estate platform popped up, and it was much lower than the purchase price. I ignored him, sat back down on the couch, and opened my banking app. The remaining loan, early repayment rules, and penalty fees were all listed clearly, item by item. Julian Graham stood beside me. “What are you making a fuss about now?” I did not look up. “Checking the accounts.” He sighed. “Elaine, be mature. Leah is sick, and you’re healthy, so don’t fight her over a bed.” My fingers froze. Fight her over a bed. I had spent half a year looking at furniture and beds, and I had looked at hundreds of beds. The bed in the master bedroom was the one I chose only after trying ten different stores.

Now he used the word fight. I opened the purchase contract. Property owner: Elaine Bennett. Borrower: Elaine Bennett. The down payment transfer record was saved in the cloud. The renovation contract was there too. When Julian Graham saw the screen, his expression changed. “Why are you checking those?” I locked the screen. “None of your damn business.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t wake Leah up.” I glanced at the master bedroom door. Someone else’s sign hung on that door. Someone else’s blanket lay on that bed. Another woman lived in that room. I picked up my phone and messaged the agent, Ms. Walker. “Can this place be sold as soon as possible?” Ms. Walker replied quickly. “You can bear to let it go?” I replied: “I can.” A dull thud came from the master bedroom. Julian Graham immediately turned and went inside. “Leah? Are you okay?” “You need to go to the bathroom? I’ll carry you there.” When he came out of the bedroom, he was carrying Leah in his arms and walking toward the bathroom. From an angle he could not see. Leah gave me a victor’s smile. In the past, I would have made a scene, but now, I felt nothing. I placed my phone facedown on the table. Since the master bedroom of this house did not belong to me. There was no need for this house to belong to us either. The next morning, I opened the fridge. My cold brew coffee was gone. The chocolate milk was gone too. Where the ketchup used to be, there was now a row of low-fat milk. A sticky note was pasted on the fridge door. Leah cannot have caffeine, cold drinks, or high sugar. The handwriting was Julian Graham’s. He came out of the kitchen holding a bowl of oatmeal. “Eat light for now. Leah can’t handle strong smells.” I looked at that bowl of oatmeal. Last night, when my stomach hurt, he did not ask if I could eat. Now he remembered that Leah could not handle smells. I picked up my bag. “I’m not eating.” Julian Graham frowned. “Throwing a fit again? You have to make that face over breakfast too?” I changed my shoes. “Save it to coax her.” His voice darkened. “Elaine Bennett, don’t talk so harshly.” I went to the walk-in closet. In the main cabinet hung Leah Shaw’s beige coats, nightgowns, and shawls. My garment bag had been moved to the balcony, and the bottom of the bag was covered in dust. I picked up the gown. Julian Graham followed me in. “She gets anxious if her things are placed outside, so don’t overthink it.” “Then my gown won’t get anxious sitting on the balcony?” He pressed his lips together. “Do you have to compare yourself to a poor woman who was abused?” My phone buzzed. A message popped up in the Graham family group chat. Julian’s mother sent a voice message. “Julian, how did Leah sleep last night? Don’t let Elaine go to the master bedroom and bother her. She can’t handle being disturbed.” Julian Graham replied: “Don’t worry. I arranged everything.” Julian’s mother sent another message: “Elaine is capable, so being wronged for a few days won’t hurt. After marriage, we’re all family.” No one asked where I had slept last night. No one asked if my stomachache had gotten better. I took a screenshot of the group messages. When Julian Graham saw it, his face turned ugly. “Why are you taking screenshots?” “To keep as a memory.” He reached out to take my phone. I stepped half a step back. “Don’t touch it.” His hand stopped in midair. “Elaine, why are you so prickly now?” I put the gown back into the bag. “Your whole family speaks even more sharply. I’m just a slow learner.” That morning, I took half a day off. I exported the down payment records. I exported the monthly mortgage deductions. I exported the renovation invoices. I exported the property fees, appliance orders, and soft furnishing lists. In the spreadsheet, Julian Graham had only made a few scattered transfers for the mortgage. Among the furniture, only the TV and dining table had been paid with his card. I messaged Chloe Martin. “Help me look at the pre-marriage property settlement.” She replied: “You finally woke up?” I replied: “Cut the crap. Do the math.”

Chloe Martin sent one sentence. “The house is under your name, and you have all the evidence. Don’t go soft.” Julian Graham came back at noon. He handed me a cup of warm water. “I was too worked up last night. I’ll take you to look at wedding rings this weekend.” I looked at that cup of water. A water temperature label for Leah Shaw was still stuck to the bottom of the cup. Forty-five degrees. I did not take it. His phone rang. Leah Shaw sent a voice message. “Julian, that blanket is a little damp. I can’t sleep.” Julian Graham picked up his car keys. “I’ll go ask the dry cleaner. I’ll be back soon.” I asked: “What about the wedding rings?” He stood at the door. “That’s not urgent.” I lowered my head and submitted the early repayment appointment. A confirmation popped up on the page. I tapped confirm. He was busy protecting a blanket. I was busy dismantling a marital home. Julian Graham had promised to go with me to the wedding hotel for the menu tasting. I booked the time two weeks in advance. His parents had dietary restrictions, and I noted them three times. Before we left, he received a call from Leah Shaw. She said she did not dare go out alone and was afraid of running into her ex-boyfriend seeking revenge. Julian Graham glanced at me. “You go first. I’ll take her to buy clothes and then head over.” I picked up the car keys. “Okay.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Elaine, you really are sensible.” I did not respond to that. The hotel manager took out the wedding seating chart. There was an extra name next to the head table. Leah Shaw. The notes were very detailed. Keep away from the speakers. Keep away from the lights. Close to the lounge. Convenient for Mr. Graham to look after her. I held the pen. “Who changed this?” The manager glanced at the computer. “Mr. Graham called last night to confirm it.” I put down the pen. “The head table is where the bride and groom’s parents sit.” The manager smiled awkwardly. “Mr. Graham said Ms. Shaw’s situation is special.” Half an hour later, Julian Graham arrived. Leah Shaw followed behind him. She had that cashmere blanket draped over her shoulders and was clutching a garment bag. “Elaine, I’m sorry. Should I not have come?” I looked at Julian Graham. He stood in front of her. “She’s getting used to the wedding venue in advance, so nothing happens on the day.” I asked: “My wedding. Who approved her getting used to it?” Leah Shaw’s eyes reddened. Julian Graham’s face darkened. “Don’t take it out on her. She can’t even handle one harsh word.” I opened the menu. “Then don’t come.” The tasting began. The first dish, salmon, was served. Leah Shaw covered her mouth. “It smells fishy.” Julian Graham immediately called the manager. “Change this dish.” The second dish, onion soup, was brought over. She frowned. “The flavor is too strong.” Julian Graham said: “Change that too.” The manager looked at me. I pushed the menu over. “Listen to Mr. Graham.” The music trial played. It was the warm-up song I had chosen. Leah Shaw lowered her head and clutched the blanket. “This sound is making it hard for me to breathe.” Julian Graham turned his head. “Change it to white-noise piano music.” I looked at him. “Are the guests coming to a wedding or to sleep?” He lowered his voice. “Elaine, the wedding is just a formality, and Leah can’t be triggered.” I asked: “What about me?” He paused. “You’ve always been stronger than her.” That sentence landed on the table. I closed the folder. Leah Shaw spoke softly. “Maybe I shouldn’t attend, so you two won’t fight.” Julian Graham immediately grabbed her wrist. “No one is asking you to leave.” I saw his hand clearly. Only then did he realize it and let go.

Leah Shaw’s breathing grew rapid. Julian Graham helped her up. “I’ll take her out first. You handle the remaining payment.” The manager handed me the bill. I did not sign it. “Put the wedding date on hold.” The manager froze. “Ms. Bennett, the deposit may not be refundable.” “Follow the contract.” When Julian Graham was helping Leah Shaw into the car, Ms. Walker the agent called me. “Ms. Bennett, if you’re serious about selling that house, I have a full-cash buyer.” I watched Julian Graham close the car door for Leah Shaw. “I’m serious.” Ms. Walker asked: “What about the price?” “Below market price is negotiable.” After I got home, I canceled the hotel booking. I also sent a termination request for the bridal shop contract. Julian Graham sent me a message. “Leah has stabilized. Don’t blow today’s matter out of proportion.” I replied with two words. “Too late.” He did not reply again. I downloaded a house sale contract template. The wedding could go on without me. The marital home could go on without him too. At nine the next morning, I went to the bank. The staff member wrote the early repayment penalty on a piece of paper. “Ms. Bennett, this is not a small amount. Are you sure you want to proceed?” I signed. “I’m sure.” She reminded me again. “After the lien is released, the property can be traded.” I handed over my ID. “I know.” When I walked out of the bank, Julian Graham sent me a message. “What do you want for lunch?” I replied: “Come back early tonight. We’ll talk about the house.” He replied: “Okay. This time, I’ll listen to you seriously.” I put my phone into my pocket. In the afternoon, Ms. Walker brought the buyers to view the house. I had packed Leah Shaw’s medicine boxes, sleep machine, essential oil diffuser, and slippers into a clear bag in advance. The bag sat by the entryway. The buyer’s wife saw the silk bedding in the master bedroom. “It’s been kept in pretty good condition. Can it stay?” I said: “The bedding won’t stay.” The buyer’s husband glanced at the balcony. “Why are you selling so urgently?” I handed him a copy of the property certificate. “I’m preparing to move to another city.” Ms. Walker pulled me aside. “You’ve cut the price too hard. They’ll still try to bargain.” “Full cash is fast, so the price is negotiable.” She said: “You’ve really made up your mind.” “Yes.” At dusk, Julian Graham came back. He saw the storage boxes in the living room. “Organizing wedding supplies?” I placed the settlement sheet on the coffee table. “Sit.” When he saw the spreadsheet, his expression changed. “Elaine, are you serious?” “It was also serious when I slept on the couch last night.” He sat down. “Go ahead.” I opened the first page. “The down payment was three million. I paid two million, and you paid one million.” He nodded. “I admit that.” “The renovation cost seven hundred eighty-six thousand, and I paid it.” “The main part of the mortgage came out of my account.” “I paid the property fees, appliances, and soft furnishings.” He rubbed his brow. “What’s the point of calculating this now?” “There is a point.” His phone started vibrating. Leah Shaw’s name jumped on the screen. He declined it. It rang again a second time. The third time, she sent a voice message. “Julian, I’m alone in the master bedroom. I had another nightmare just now. I dreamed that my ex hit me. I’m so scared…” Julian Graham stood up. I blocked his way. “If you leave tonight, we don’t need to talk anymore.” He grabbed his car keys. “She’s too pitiful, Elaine. Don’t force me to be cold-blooded.” I looked at him. “You were pretty cold-blooded the night my stomach hurt.” His face stiffened.

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I simply refused to babysit my elderly neighbor for free this weekend. So her son actually carried her—with a broken leg—straight into my office lobby to make a massive scene. Holding a forged “Volunteer Caregiver Agreement,” he wept bitterly in front of all my colleagues, accusing me of being cold-blooded and heartless. He claimed that my going out on a date had caused his mother to fall and get severely injured, and he even demanded fifty thousand dollars in compensation. The judging stares of onlookers and the vicious cyberbullying on social media rushed at me like a tsunami. He thought I was just a young, helpless girl who would quietly swallow this bitter pill to protect her job and reputation. He thought public pressure would force me to become their free nanny, all to satisfy his fake sense of filial piety. Too bad for him, he messed with the wrong woman. Instead of backing down, I called the police on the spot and demanded a forensic handwriting analysis. Step by step, I ripped off his hypocritical mask, exposing how he used his own mother as a cash cow. Trying to guilt-trip me? I’ll use the law to make sure he rots in a cell.

When the front desk urgently paged me down to the lobby, I could hear the hysterical screaming before the elevator doors even opened. “Someone help me! Look at what the younger generation has become! So heartless!” “She signed an agreement! She promised to look after my mother this weekend, but she bailed!” “My poor mother broke her leg and laid on the cold floor for three hours!” The elevator doors slid open, revealing a lobby packed with people. Security guards, coworkers, janitors, and even a few strangers holding up their phones, livestreaming the whole thing. Right in the center of the lobby lay a stretcher. An elderly woman with white hair lay on it, her leg wrapped in a thick plaster cast. Her eyes were tightly shut, and her face was deathly pale. It was my neighbor, Grace. Kneeling beside the stretcher, sobbing with tears and snot running down his face, was her son, Pierce. Pierce was wearing a faded, washed-out shirt, holding a piece of paper high in the air. The moment he saw me step out, he sprang up from the floor and pointed a shaking finger at me, screaming: “Amanda! You finally showed your face!” “Look at what you did to my mother!” Instantly, every gaze in the room stabbed into me like knives. I didn’t flinch. Stepping firmly in my high heels, I walked toward him, one deliberate step at a time. “Pierce, what kind of crazy stunt are you pulling here?” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the spacious lobby, it cut through the noise with absolute clarity. Pierce sneered, slamming the paper onto the reception desk next to him. “Me? Crazy?” “Amanda, this is the ‘Volunteer Caregiver Agreement’ you signed with your own hand!” “It states clearly right here. You promised to look after my mother every single weekend, 24/7!” “Last Saturday, you ignored my calls just so you could go out on some hot date!” “My mother wanted a glass of water, tried to get out of bed herself, and shattered her hip!” “You are going to take responsibility today!” “Pay up fifty thousand dollars for her medical bills, or I will make sure you get fired from this company!” The crowd immediately erupted into hushed whispers. “She looks so pretty, how could she be so cruel?” “How can you break a promise like that? An old lady almost died.” “Exactly. Abandoning an elder just for a date? That’s disgusting.” I stared coldly at Pierce. His face was slightly distorted with a sick sense of triumph. I could see the greedy, calculating glint in his eyes. He assumed that by making a scene at my workplace, I would desperately hand over the cash just to save my job and reputation. I picked up the so-called agreement from the desk. The paper was crisp and new, the form poorly formatted. It indeed had my name, phone number, and apartment number printed on it. And at the very bottom, there was my “signature.” The handwriting was a decent imitation. But I knew with absolute certainty that I had never signed any such thing. I laid the paper down, pulled out my phone, and dialed 911. “Hi, I need to report an incident.” “I am at the lobby of Parkview Tower.” “A man is using a forged document to extort fifty thousand dollars from me. He is currently disrupting a place of business and causing a public nuisance.” “Yes, the suspect is right here. Please dispatch officers immediately.” I hung up and looked back at Pierce. The smug grin on his face instantly froze.

“You… why did you call the cops?!” Pierce’s voice wavered, but he quickly tried to bluff his way through. “Fine! Let the cops come! Let them see what a treacherous snake you are!” “My mom’s broken leg is a fact! And your signature is a fact!” I ignored him. Instead, I turned my gaze to Grace on the stretcher. Her eyelids fluttered violently, but she kept them squeezed shut, terrified to look at me. “Mrs. Grace,” I said, my voice ice-cold. “Are you really going to keep pretending to be asleep?” “Pierce carried you here like some cheap prop just to extort money. Do you feel proud of this?” Grace’s fingers tightened instantly around the edge of the blanket on the stretcher. Pierce quickly stepped in front of her, blocking my view. “Amanda! Stop harassing my mother!” “She is in no condition to deal with your abuse!” I let out a cold laugh. “Can’t handle stress? Yet you carried her into a chaotic, noisy lobby?” “Are you trying to get her medical help, or are you parading her around like a circus freak?” The murmuring in the crowd died down. A few people started to realize something was off. Ten minutes later, the police arrived. The responding officer took one look at the scene, his brow furrowing deeply. “What’s going on here? Who called the police?” I stepped forward. “I did.” I pointed at Pierce. “This man brought a forged document to my office to extort fifty thousand dollars from me.” Pierce immediately started yelling. “She’s lying through her teeth!” “She signed this herself! Now she’s just trying to dodge her responsibility!” The officer took the agreement, examined it, and then looked at me. “Are you sure this isn’t your signature?” “I am positive.” I stared straight into Pierce’s eyes, pronouncing every word clearly: “I am requesting a forensic handwriting analysis.” “If the test proves I signed it, I will pay every single penny of that fifty thousand dollars.” “But if it’s a forgery, Pierce, extorting fifty grand is grand larceny. That’s enough to put you behind bars for a long, long time.” Pierce’s face drained of color instantly. He took an involuntary step backward. “You… stop trying to threaten me!” “My mom’s leg is broken! That’s a fact!” The officer cut him off. “Alright, that’s enough.” “Since this involves potential forgery and extortion, both of you need to come down to the station.” “As for the lady, call an ambulance and get her to a hospital! This is ridiculous!” Pierce panicked. “Officer, my mom needs me! I have to stay with her at the hospital. I can’t go to the station!” I glared at him. “Didn’t you just say I was her 24/7 weekend caregiver?” “Why does she suddenly need you now?” Pierce choked on his words, unable to reply. The ambulance arrived quickly and took Grace away. Pierce, looking like a defeated dog, was put into the back of a police cruiser. I requested a few hours off from my manager and got into another cruiser. I knew this war had only just begun.

At the station, the harsh fluorescent lights beat down on Pierce’s face. Sweat was pouring down his forehead. The detective slammed the agreement onto the table. “Pierce, let’s try this again. Did Amanda sign this paper or not?” Pierce grit his teeth, still trying to play tough. “Yes! She signed it!” “It was during the ‘Senior Care Outreach’ event organized by the neighborhood association last month. She signed it right in front of me!” Sitting across from him, I watched his pathetic performance with cold amusement. “Fine,” I said. “Detective, I want to proceed with the handwriting analysis.” “Furthermore, I want to pull the security footage from the community center from last month.” “If it was an official neighborhood association event, there must be records, right?” Pierce’s hands began to tremble. He swallowed hard, and his aggressive attitude suddenly flipped into a pathetic plea. “Amanda, come on, we’re neighbors. We see each other every day.” “Do you really have to be this cruel?” “My mom has always been so sweet to you. She even brought you homemade apple pie once!” “Even if you didn’t sign it, she broke her leg! Would it kill you to just help out with some medical bills?” I laughed out of sheer anger. “Pierce, do you think the whole world is your mother and has to cater to your whims?” “Your mother brought me dessert once, and the very next day, you came over to borrow my car. When I said no, you went onto our neighborhood Snapchat group and called me a selfish bitch.” “You call that being sweet?” “You forged my signature, crashed my office, and tried to ruin my career and reputation. And you call that being a neighbor?” I stood up, leaning over the table, pressing him hard. “Let me tell you something. You won’t get a single dime of that fifty thousand dollars.” “On top of that, I’m suing you for forgery, extortion, and defamation.” “I am going to destroy you.” The detective tapped the table. “Alright, Amanda, take a seat.” The detective then turned to Pierce. “Pierce, let me make this clear. Once the forensic handwriting analysis is done, if it’s a forgery, the charges become much more severe.” “Tell the truth now, while you still have a chance.” Pierce’s psychological defense finally shattered. He buried his face in his hands, slumping miserably into his chair. “Okay… I had someone else sign it.” The interrogation room went dead silent. I quietly turned on the voice recorder on my phone. “Who signed it?” Pierce didn’t dare to look at me. “I… I paid someone online to forge it.” “Why did you forge my signature?” “Because… because the neighborhood association was holding a contest for the ‘Community Angel Award.’ First place gets a five-thousand-dollar grant.” “The rules state you need to submit active volunteer logs for senior care.” “I… I couldn’t find anyone, so I used your info.” I stared at him, feeling utterly repulsed. For a five-thousand-dollar prize, he sold out his neighbor’s private information. For a fifty-thousand-dollar extortion plot, he dragged his injured mother to a corporate lobby. This man was absolute scum. The detective finished writing the report and slid it over for Pierce to sign. “Pierce, you are being charged with forgery and attempted grand larceny.” “You’re being booked.” Pierce snapped his head up, eyes wide with disbelief. “Booked?! No! I can’t go to jail!” “My mom is still in the hospital! Who is going to take care of her?!” I looked at him coldly. “Why don’t you use that five-thousand-dollar prize money to hire a nurse?” “Oh, wait. Now that you’re going to jail, I guess you won’t be getting that money anyway.” Pierce glared at me, his eyes filled with venomous rage. “Amanda, you’ll pay for this!” “Just wait until I get out! I’m coming for you!” I met his gaze, refusing to back down even an inch. “I’ll be waiting.”

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