For three years, I raised the bastard my serpent husband had fathered with my own younger sister. Because I believed he was mine. Three years ago, I suffered an accident while pregnant. When I woke up, the pup inside me was gone. My husband showed me paperwork from a shifter hospital and told me my body could no longer carry the baby, but my sister had agreed to act as my surrogate and preserve my bloodline. He said the child growing inside her carried my blood. He said she was only giving birth to him for me. So no matter how much I hated her, I endured it. When my sister cramped during heat, I brewed medicine for her. When pregnancy made her ears painfully sensitive and kept her awake at night, I brushed the knots from her snow-leopard fur and sat beside her bed. When she went into labor, I knelt outside the delivery room for an entire day and night. The little snake she gave birth to curled around my wrist, lifted his wet, innocent slit-pupiled eyes to me, and called me Mommy. Meanwhile, his real mother took my husband into the mating den that should have belonged to me every single night. Three years ago, I caught them in bed. In a rage, I slapped them both. My husband was a black-and-gold king cobra. He offered no explanation and showed no guilt. He only wrapped his freezing tail around my ankle and told me that the shock I had caused had sent my father and brother into severe feral episodes. They had been committed to the highest-security shifter containment facility in the country. If I ever touched my sister again, he would make sure they died in there wearing suppression collars. For my father, my brother, and the hatchling I believed was my own flesh and blood, I lowered my snow-leopard ears and endured three years of humiliation. Only after the hatchling’s first-moon celebration did I dare ask my husband to release my family. He lounged behind his desk, his black tail draped over the edge, and opened a video call. My father was holding the hatchling. My brother sat beside my sister, gently brushing out her white tail. They had never been committed. For three years, they had been with her the entire time. They watched me care for her. Watched me raise her child. Watched me submit because I was terrified of what might happen to them. Then my husband casually told me the truth. My father and brother had been the ones who delivered my sister to his mating den in the first place. The hospital records were fake. The surrogacy was fake. My baby had died in that accident three years ago. The little snake I had cherished and raised was the bastard my husband had conceived with my sister. They had even placed bets on how I would react once I found out. My sister bet I would trash the office. My father bet I would hurt myself. My brother bet I would demand they send her away. My husband bet I would cling to his tail and beg him not to abandon me. Laughter poured through the phone. My silver ears slowly flattened beneath the sound. But I did not scream. I did not beg. I wiped away my tears and lifted my head. “If you want to compensate me, give me one hundred million dollars.” For the first time, my husband’s smile froze. Then I named my price for the others. Fifty million from my father. Thirty million from my brother. Three years of servitude. Ten years of marriage. Every time I had called them Dad and Brother. I was willing to sell all of it. Once the money arrived, we would be even. My father and brother called me greedy and vulgar. They said I was unworthy of the snow-leopard bloodline. My sister pressed herself against my husband, her soft ears lowered as she pretended to plead on my behalf. My husband opened a drawer and pulled out a bond-dissolution agreement. My sister had given birth to a male serpent heir. Only a son born to a legally registered mate could enter the main bloodline and inherit his corporate empire. So he intended to dissolve our marriage, register my sister as his mate, and legitimize the hatchling. He told me it was nothing more than paperwork. His fangs had already marked the back of my neck. His mating venom still lived in my blood. Once the hatchling was entered into the family registry, he would divorce my sister and bring me home again. “You will always be my mate.” That was what he said. I picked up the pen and signed my name without hesitation.
My husband could not believe I had agreed to dissolve our bond so easily. He stared at my lowered ears and asked whether money was truly all I cared about. He even pulled the agreement halfway out of my reach and told me that if I begged, he would tear it up on the spot. But all I could remember was the night I lost my baby three years ago. I had been five months pregnant, curled alone inside our mating den while pain tore through my body. My snow-leopard tail wound so tightly around the bedpost that my muscles cramped. Sweat soaked the fur around my ears. I called my husband seventeen times. He never answered. He returned at dawn. My sister’s sweet heat scent clung to his collar, and the black scales along his throat were still warm from mating. I was lying in a bed soaked with blood. He did not hold me. He did not ask whether I was in pain. He only frowned and ordered the servants to clean the blood before my sister smelled it. She was pregnant, he said. Blood would upset her. Later, he brought me forged hospital documents and claimed that although my body could no longer carry our child, my sister had “saved” the pregnancy. I believed him. I had even been grateful to her. Only now did I understand that the child he had been worried about that night was never mine. It was the baby growing inside my sister. Even now, he still believed I would never truly leave. He promised that once the hatchling entered the bloodline registry, he would restore my title as Serpent Consort and move me back into the main residence. I pretended to believe him and asked him to book me a flight to the mountains. There was a lake there we had promised to visit when we were young. Relief softened his face. His tail circled my waist as he pulled me into his arms. “Go ahead of me.” “When everything is settled, I’ll come find you.” I rested against his shoulder and said nothing. Because I knew I would never wait for him again. Then he asked for the keys to our mating residence. My sister had just given birth. Her senses were delicate, and the cedar scent I had left throughout the house made her anxious. He wanted me to remove all my belongings so I would not upset her or the hatchling. I calmly placed the keys in his palm. We had designed that house together. I had chosen the curtains, the rugs, the temperature of the den, and every piece of furniture in the nursery. I once believed we would raise our own child there. But while I lost our baby alone, he had been in my sister’s bed. After I left, I did not go to the new villa he had prepared for me. I went to the shifter containment facility. For three years, every time I visited the father and brother I believed had gone feral, I had seen a young black dragon locked in solitary confinement. He had been framed during a family succession war. One of his horns had been sawed short. Suppression rings clamped his pointed black ears, and iron chains bound the still-growing wings at his back. Everyone claimed he had lost his mind. I was the only one who knew he had been lucid all along. I opened the isolation cell and removed his suppression collar. “I have the money.” “I’m taking you home.” My husband had no idea that I was never going to the mountains. I was crossing the ocean to the overseas territory ruled by the deep-sea black dragons.
When I returned to the mating residence to collect my documents, all my belongings had been dumped across the living-room floor. My sister descended the staircase wearing my white bonding gown. Her snow-leopard ears resembled mine, though hers were smaller and softer. She deliberately lowered them to look innocent while her tail arched proudly behind her, betraying her triumph. My husband had designed that gown himself. His black-serpent crest and my silver snow-leopard markings were embroidered along the inside of the skirt. My sister told me he had already agreed to give it to her. After losing my baby, she said, my body had changed. I would never fit into it again. I did not lunge at her. I did not tear the gown apart. I simply told her it was worth thirty million dollars. If she wanted something that belonged to me, she could pay for it. Humiliation twisted her face. She raised her hand to strike me, only to trip over the heavy skirt and fall. My father and brother rushed in at the sound. My father did not ask what had happened. He slapped me across the face. My head snapped to the side. My silver ears jerked, and the ring on his hand sliced the tip of one ear open. Blood beaded through my fur. He pointed at me and called me greedy, vicious, and no better than my dead mother. He said I did not deserve to belong to the snow-leopard family. My brother stepped between us. For one fragile second, hope rose inside me. Then he said coldly, “Do not hit her where people can see it.” “If she shows up bruised at the registration ceremony, she’ll embarrass our sister.” He threw a black card containing thirty million dollars at my feet and told me to take it and disappear. I stared at the card. Then, under all their eyes, I bent down and picked it up. I told my brother that the gown, the furniture, the jewelry, and everything else I owned inside that den now belonged to him. I would take only my identification. From that day forward, I was no longer my father’s daughter. And I was no longer my brother’s sister. I turned to leave. My sister called me back. She said there was still one thing I had not surrendered.
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