1 A week before the wedding, my boyfriend Zane and I were lying in bed playing a game of Truth or Secret. Whoever drew the red slip had to reveal something the other person didn’t know. Zane drew it. He looked into my eyes, a gentle, practiced smile playing on his lips. “I was going to wait a couple more days to tell you, but I guess now is as good a time as any,” he said, his voice as smooth as velvet. He enunciated every word with terrifying clarity. “I’m getting married.” I froze for a heartbeat, then forced a small laugh. “Well, yeah. Next week is our—” “The bride isn’t you, Serena.” The smile died on my face. My brain went completely blank, a high-pitched ringing filling my ears. “What does that even mean? I’ve waited eight years for you!” I choked out. He reached out and stroked my hair, his touch as paternal and condescending as ever. “The firm is in trouble. We’re facing a liquidity crisis. I have to marry Bianca Moore. Her family is the only one with the capital to bail us out.” He leaned in, whispering like it was a sacred vow. “I swear, Serena, you’re the only one I’ll ever love.” I looked down at my right side—at the empty sleeve pinned up against my shoulder. I lost that arm in a car wreck years ago. I had thrown myself across him to take the impact. I remember how he held me afterward, sobbing, swearing to the heavens: “I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” I didn’t realize that “taking care of me” included marrying someone else. “Don’t take it so hard,” Zane continued, his tone nauseatingly tender. “It’s just a strategic merger. Once we weather this storm, I’ll find a way out and we’ll get married for real. Okay?” I felt a chill settle into my marrow. “You did so much for the company back in the early days,” he added. “You wouldn’t want to see it all go under, would you?” I stared at him. Back when we started Fletcher Tech, we were so broke we shared dollar-menu burgers. I was the one who landed our first seven-figure contract that put us on the map. “So, like every other executive decision we’ve made, this is for the company. For our future,” he said, still smiling. He had forgotten. In the beginning, he used to make a point of sitting three seats away from any other woman at a business dinner. He used to say: “The firm is the firm, but I won’t do anything that makes my sweet Serena jealous.” Now, he was attending his own wedding for “the company.” I took a deep breath, trying to claw back some dignity. “And our wedding next week?” “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said casually. “The venue is booked, the catering is set. We’re just changing the names on the program.” Changing the names. Eight years of anticipation, discarded in a single sentence. I looked at Zane. His eyes were still as soulful as the day I met him, but the man inside was a stranger. “If you marry her, we’re done,” I said. Zane blinked, looking genuinely puzzled. “Don’t be dramatic. I know this is a lot to take in—I should have told you sooner. But it’s for the firm. I swear on my life.” He raised his right hand, four fingers extended in a scout’s honor. It was the exact same gesture he made the day I lost my arm. But a vow is only as good as the man making it. When I didn’t respond, his voice hardened. “Serena, be realistic. You aren’t exactly young anymore. And with the… missing limb… if you leave me and the company, where would you even go?” He didn’t finish the thought, but the implication hung in the air like a threat. His phone buzzed—a text. He checked it and stood up. “The office needs me. I have to go handle something.” I watched him leave, thinking about the man who once lived and breathed for the success of Fletcher Tech. I had poured everything into him. I remember when we hit our first major milestone, I told him: “This is enough. We have enough to live comfortably forever. We can finally start our real lives.” He had looked at me blankly and said: “That was a lot of work. You go home and rest, Serena. I have another meeting.” That was the moment I should have realized. The only thing he truly cared about wasn’t me. It was the empire. I picked up my phone, my hand trembling as I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. The next morning, I woke up to an empty house. Zane hadn’t come back. He used to rush home after every late-night session, claiming he hated the thought of me being alone and scared in the dark. I sighed. My phone buzzed. A text from Zane. “I’m downstairs. I want you to meet someone.” I tightened my grip on my phone, then let go. Fine. One last time. I went down and got into the car. Zane handed me a bag. “Breakfast,” he said. I opened it: a cream-filled pastry and a latte. I felt a bitter laugh bubble up in my throat. He had even forgotten I was severely allergic to dairy. I set the bag aside. “Still pouting?” Zane asked, his voice breezy. I didn’t answer. He frowned slightly, and we drove in silence to a high-end restaurant where he usually took me for celebrations. He led the way into a private booth. A woman was already sitting there. Bianca Moore. Zane didn’t even flinch. He gestured toward her. “Serena, I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Bianca. Bianca, this is Serena.” I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. “She’s my sister,” Zane told her, his voice steady. “And one of the original founders of the firm.” I felt like I’d been kicked in the chest. Sister? Eight years of my life, reduced to a platonic lie. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a cold hand. Zane looked at me, his eyes offering a sliver of that old warmth as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the booth. I stumbled, my balance off without my right arm, and he practically shoved me into the corner seat while he sat down next to Bianca. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from him: “Important people are coming. This lunch is crucial for the firm. Play along.” He didn’t even bother to apologize for the “sister” comment. It was always about the firm. The pain started to fade, replaced by a cold, hollow numbness. The room filled up quickly. Partners, investors, family friends. Zane stood up, raising a glass of champagne. “I wanted to bring everyone together to celebrate my upcoming marriage to Bianca,” he said, beaming. “Thank you for your support. We look forward to a very successful partnership, both personally and professionally.” The room erupted in cheers. “A perfect match!” “To the happy couple!” “Come on, Zane! Give us a toast! A kiss!” The crowd started chanting. I looked at Zane, my eyes pleading. Please, don’t do this. Not in front of me. Zane caught my gaze for a split second, then looked away. “If you insist,” he laughed. They linked arms, drinking in the traditional wedding style. When they set their glasses down, they looked at each other as if they were the only two people in the world. Bianca tilted her head back, and he kissed her. The applause was deafening. I stood up slowly from my corner. I slipped out the door, unnoticed. In the restroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. My face was a mask of tears I didn’t even realize were falling. Every promise he’d ever made was shattering in the air around me. I splashed cold water on my face and headed for the exit. Halfway there, I passed a partially open door to another private room. I heard my name. I froze. I couldn’t help but lean in. Zane was in there with his oldest friend, a guy I vaguely remembered from college. “Serena just walked out without a word,” the friend said. Zane swirled his scotch. “Yeah, I know.” “You’re a savage, Zane. Kissing another woman right in front of her?” Zane chuckled. “Why worry? We’ve been together forever. She’s got nowhere else to go. She’s obsessed with me. Besides… she’s only got one arm. Who else is going to take her in?” The friend laughed, punching Zane lightly on the shoulder. “Man, you’re something else. Using the ‘sister’ bit to keep the peace?” I moved closer to the crack in the door. Using what? Zane set his glass down, his expression cynical. “Look, Bianca is high-maintenance. Very traditional. Unlike the others, she wouldn’t let me touch her until there was a ring on it. I had to sell the ‘sister’ story to Serena to keep her quiet until the deal is sealed.” The others? The air left my lungs. It hadn’t just been Bianca. “I promised her this is the last one,” Zane continued. “Once I’m bored with this, I’ll crawl back and give Serena the wedding she wants.” The friend rolled his eyes. “You said that about the last one too.” Zane sighed. “Well, Serena has sacrificed a lot. I’m not a total monster. I’ll marry her eventually.” “You better,” the friend said. “She lost that arm saving your life.” Zane went silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was lower, edged with a trace of disgust. “That’s exactly why I have to get out of the house. You have no idea… every time I look at that stump, I feel sick. In the rain, when the nerves twitch… it looks like a pile of—” “Miss Lin? What are you doing here?” A sharp female voice cut him off. A server was standing behind me. Inside the room, Zane and his friend turned toward the door. Through the gap, our eyes met. Zane reacted instantly. He walked toward me, his hand reaching out to stroke my hair. “Serena, you… how much did you hear?” Bianca stepped out behind him, looking confused. I didn’t wait for him to finish. I swung my left hand and slapped him across the face with every ounce of strength I had left. Before I could even register the sting in my palm, Bianca stepped forward and slapped me back. “What is wrong with you?!” she screamed, shielding Zane. “How dare you hit him!” She stood in front of him, fierce and protective. I looked at them and felt a hysterical urge to laugh. It was like a scene from a soap opera, and I realized with brutal clarity that I wasn’t the lead. In this story, I was the villain. The “other woman.” I looked at my empty sleeve, then at the “happy couple.” Fine, I thought. The villain is leaving. I stepped back, but the floor suddenly rolled beneath my feet. A low roar filled the building. “Earthquake! Get out!” someone screamed. The ceiling began to shed dust and plaster. The floor tilted violently. A heavy service cart laden with crystal and silverware broke loose, hurtling toward Bianca. “Bianca!” Zane didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, shoving her out of the way and throwing his weight against the cart to deflect it. He saved her, but the momentum sent the heavy steel cart spinning. Straight toward me. I saw Zane look back. For a second, his face was a mask of panic, then confusion as he realized the cart was about to crush me. He opened his mouth to scream my name, but the impact hit. The world went black. As my consciousness faded, I saw the crowd trampling over each other to get to the exit. I saw Zane grab Bianca’s hand and run for the door. He didn’t look back again. But just before the dark took me, I felt a pair of strong hands catch me.
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