To vet my wife’s competence, my father had arranged for me to conduct a surprise audit of the company she managed. I genuinely thought it would be a formality, a quiet walk-through. Instead, the moment I stepped onto the floor, I saw a baby-faced college guy staring, mesmerized, at the paper shredder. “Whoa, this thing is so cool,” he mumbled. He reached for a stack of documents on a nearby desk, looking ready to feed them into the machine. A colleague next to him went white as a ghost and lunged forward. “My God, my little prince, I thought you were playing video games in the CEO’s office! Why are you out here?” The guy just grinned. “Heh, I got thirsty.” As he spoke, his hand holding a full cup of water slipped, splashing the entire contents directly onto the main power switch. The entire office floor went black. A collective wail of despair rose from the workstations. I grabbed the nearest intern and quietly demanded to know who in God’s name had hired that imbecile. The intern immediately clamped a finger to his lips. “Lower your voice, man. He’s, like, our CEO Sloane Albright’s partner. Word is, this whole company is technically his.” “You must be new. You’ll get used to it. He usually just plays games in the CEO’s office and doesn’t bother us.” My temples began to throb. If he was the CEO’s partner, then what the hell was I? I pulled out my phone and called my father. “Dad, you can cancel the inspection. Tell Sloane Albright to come back here and bring the divorce papers.” 1 My father sent me to the branch to evaluate Sloane Albright. He said it was a routine check, nothing to stress about, just a chance to get an early feel for the operations. I assumed it was purely for show. I checked in with the front desk as a corporate reviewer from Headquarters, and the assistant politely swiped me through the secured access. The second I entered the main office, I saw him. He was dressed in an almost aggressively casual white button-down, a little too young for the setting, and was crouched in front of a heavy-duty shredder with an expression of pure, childlike fascination. “Wow, this machine is so cool. Can it eat anything?” He reached over and casually picked up a file from a nearby desk. I caught a glimpse of the cover: “MERGER AGREEMENT,” stamped in bright red. Without a second thought, he started to push the thick document toward the hungry teeth of the shredder. A bespectacled colleague next to him instantly turned a sickly shade of gray. He flew across the cubicle and nearly body-checked the younger man, snatching the contract out of his hands just in time. “My sweet Lord, weren’t you supposed to be in the office playing your games?” His voice was thin with terror. “Why did you come out? We need this contract for the presentation this afternoon!” The younger man was mildly annoyed by the collision, but didn’t seem angry. He just grinned, shaking an empty, disposable cup. “Got bored with the game. Got thirsty.” The colleague visibly sagged with relief, clutching the document to his chest as if it were his own beating heart. He lowered his voice, the tone almost a plea. “Then please, please, go get your water. I’m begging you. Go back and drink it in the office, okay? Doesn’t the CEO’s suite have its own dispenser?” The guy rubbed his nose. “The water in there tastes weird. I want the water out here.” He walked off toward the communal kitchen, completely ignoring the colleague’s near-sobbing expression. My temples were hammering. I caught the eye of a young intern standing near me. “Who is he?” The intern glanced at me, then quickly checked the guy’s retreating back, his eyes full of fear. He put a finger to his lips, shushing me. “Keep it down, man.” He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s our CEO Sloane Albright’s partner. Name’s Brody Jennings.” My heart seized. Sloane’s recent abnormal behavior—the late nights, the sudden secretiveness—it all clicked into a terrifying explanation. The intern continued, his face etched with a maturity beyond his years. “I heard the company technically belongs to him, so he’s the real boss here.” “You just started, right? You’ll get used to it.” He sighed, an expression of crushing corporate exhaustion. “He usually stays locked in the CEO’s private office, playing games or watching TV. He doesn’t interact with us.” “Sloane must be away at a meeting today, and he got bored enough to come out and wander.” The buzzing in my head intensified. He was the CEO’s partner. So what am I? The intern saw the look on my face and asked with concern, “You alright, man? You look sick.” I shook my head, managing a tight smile. “No, I’m fine. Just… surprised.” “A company can have someone like that here. I’m truly… enlightened.” The intern shrugged bitterly. “Just live with it. He never actually does anything. We just keep our heads down and pray he gets tired and goes back inside.” I didn’t reply. Never actually does anything? If that contract had been shredded, a multi-million-dollar deal would have collapsed. Who would have taken the fall for that loss? I watched Brody Jennings emerge from the kitchen, humming a tune. I pulled out my phone, intending to call my father, but paused. No. Walking away now would be letting Sloane off too easily. My father sent me to evaluate her competence. Now I knew that her competence, and her character, were catastrophic failures. I needed to see just how far this branch had descended under her management. I straightened my jacket and walked back to the front desk. “Hi. I’m Cameron Montgomery, the Project Reviewer from Headquarters.” “Please set me up with a temporary workspace, preferably somewhere quiet. And this review is internal. I don’t want Ms. Albright to know I was here.” The receptionist nodded respectfully. I took a corner seat in the main office and fixed my gaze on Brody Jennings. He was now holding his cup of water and curiously inspecting the fire alarm on the wall, looking like he was debating whether or not to press the red button. 2 Sloane was out for the morning. Brody must have finally maxed out on video games. He drifted out of the executive suite again, a storm cloud of corporate disruption. He strolled the floor, idly poking at one colleague’s half-finished design sketch, then tapping on another’s keyboard, generating a stream of garbled code. Everyone held their breath when he approached, unable to speak, rushing to check their work for damage the moment he passed. He ambled to the water cooler, grabbed a paper cup, and filled it up. Whether from clumsiness or intention, his hand twitched. The entire cup of water, full to the brim, arced through the air and splashed precisely onto the wall next to the dispenser. That wall housed the main power switch for the entire floor. There was a loud sizzle and a spray of blue-white sparks. The overhead fluorescent lights died instantly. Every single computer monitor in the office went black, a silent, sickening wave of darkness. A few seconds later, the office exploded in a chorus of agony and curses of pure despair. “My code! All morning on this code! I didn’t save!” “My design draft! The client is waiting! The last, crucial step!” “My quarterly report! Due at two! I’m ruined, we’re all ruined!” The Head of Tech, Luke, sprinted out of his office. He saw the wreckage—and Brody Jennings standing there, looking perfectly innocent—and his face turned to stone. Luke’s lips tightened, his fist clenched and unclenched, and he finally swallowed whatever he was about to say. Brody, however, spoke first, his voice dripping with annoyance. “What’s the matter with this place?” “This switch is so cheap. It broke just from a little water. Why is everything in this company such low quality?” His talent for immediate and total blame deflection was truly astonishing. The Administrative Manager rushed over. He looked at the smoking power switch, then at Brody. Immediately, he adopted an overly obsequious smile. “Brody, are you hurt? Did that frighten you?” “It’s not your fault at all. It must be old wiring. We’ll fix it right away. I’m calling someone to replace it with a new, waterproof one!” “Please, go back to the office and rest. We’ll handle this.” Brody pouted, still dissatisfied, but finally turned and retreated to Sloane’s suite. The manager wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and began organizing the emergency repairs. As he walked past, I stopped him. “Sir, does this sort of thing happen often?” He recognized me as the guy from Headquarters, and a look of bitter defeat crossed his face. He pulled me into the stairwell of the fire escape, lowering his voice. “You’re the reviewer, right? There are things I shouldn’t say, but after today…” He sighed heavily. “The truth is, he’s Ms. Albright’s darling. We can’t touch him.” “Sloane is out of town today, so there’s no one to keep him in check.” “Normally, when she’s here, she at least keeps him locked up in her office…” His face was a mask of despair. “Last time, he ‘accidentally’ knocked over a cup of coffee.” “That coffee landed directly on our core server rack.” “All our company data was scrambled. The tech team worked nonstop for a full week to recover it. A week of everyone’s work, gone!” “And what happened then?” I asked. “Ms. Albright said the tech department was negligent, that the server was placed in a hazardous location. She docked our entire department’s quarterly bonus.” “She said it was a lesson for us to be more mindful.” My heart sank, inch by bitter inch. This was Sloane’s management. She enables an idiot to run rampant through a multi-million-dollar company, and then forces all the hardworking, diligent employees to pay the price for his stupidity. Sloane Albright, you are incredible. Just then, the door to the GM’s office creaked open. Brody poked his head out and yelled to the dark office. “I’m bored! Why is the power still out? My phone is almost dead! Are there any snacks in the kitchen?” No one answered. The only sound in the entire office was a suffocating, absolute silence. 3 The moment the engineers restored the power, my father called. He needed a core market data file. He said the Group Board needed the document that afternoon and that I must handle it personally, without any mistakes. I copied the data onto a drive from the Market Director and headed to the print room. I had just finished collating the document and clipped the pages together when the door burst open. Brody Jennings sauntered in, holding a can of Coke. His eyes lit up when he saw the heavy-duty stapler on the table next to my files. “Hey, let me borrow that. My chip bag tore open.” He reached out, his hand instinctively going for the stapler. I instinctively shielded the confidential documents and the stapler, pulling them back just out of his reach. His hand met empty air. His momentum sent him stumbling, and his foot caught on a power cord. The can of Coke slipped from his grip. The brown liquid flew in a perfect, precise arc, landing squarely on the stack of top-secret documents I had just printed. The thick pile of A4 paper was instantly soaked, turning the pages into a pulpy, ruined mess. Watching the destruction of the file, I finally lost my detached composure. I looked up, my gaze locking onto Brody’s face. He showed no remorse, only irritation that I hadn’t loaned him the stapler. My voice was flat and cold. “Can you cover the financial loss of this document?” Brody had probably never been questioned with such cold authority by a mere employee before. He paused, then his face flushed with rage. “How dare you talk to me like that?” “Do you even know who I am?” He puffed out his chest, his indignation righteous. “I’m the CEO’s husband!” I stared at him, feeling nothing but a profound, cold amusement. “Oh?” I asked calmly. “So the CEO’s partner is free to destroy company property? Free to ignore all our rules and regulations?” My retort clearly challenged his invented authority. He became frantic, pointing a finger directly at my chest. “Of course, I can!” “This company belongs to Sloane, which means it belongs to me! I can do whatever I want!” “Who the hell are you? Some new guy trying to lecture me?” Colleagues who had heard the commotion were now watching from the doorway, too terrified to move. A few administrative staff were tugging at my sleeve, their eyes pleading with me to just apologize and back down. I didn’t move. I simply held his gaze. Brody, feeling his public pride slip away, pulled out his phone, a sneer of triumph on his face. “Fine, you want to play tough? You think I can’t handle you?” “I’ll let your boss tell you exactly who I am and who you are!” He immediately video-called Sloane Albright. The call connected almost instantly. He turned the screen toward himself, waiting for his protector to appear. 4 The second the video connected, Brody’s voice became shrill and loud. He aimed the phone at his face, his voice full of manufactured indignation. “Sloane! What kind of company are you running? A new employee is trying to bully me!” “I just wanted to borrow a stapler, and he refused. Then he ruined the documents himself and tried to blame me, even threatening to hit me!” “If it wasn’t for you, I would have fought him already.” He twisted the truth completely, playing the victim of a colossal injustice. From the other end of the video, Sloane’s voice came, soothing and gentle. “Don’t be angry, sweetheart. Your wife is here. No one can bully you. I’ll handle it.” I could see her in a solemn conference room, the corporate logo prominent behind her. She was clearly at an industry summit crucial to the company’s future. But she had just stopped a critical meeting for this man. “Hand the phone over to him.” Sloane’s tone snapped from gentle to icy. She was speaking to the space behind Brody, toward all the employees, her voice a chilling command. “Who upset my Brody?” “Give the phone to him. I’ll speak to the person myself. I want to see who has the nerve.” Brody’s face broke into a triumphant smile. He shoved the phone at me, his chin raised high, his eyes full of provocation and victory. I calmly took the phone. My face came into sharp focus on the screen. Sloane saw me and her composure crumbled. A flicker of panic crossed her face. “Cameron? What are you doing there?” Her brows furrowed tightly, as if my presence was merely a bothersome complication. “Don’t get upset! Wait until I get back, and I’ll explain everything!” I looked at the familiar face on the screen, the face I had once believed would be mine forever. In that moment, she felt utterly alien and pitifully ridiculous. Seeing my cold silence, her tone grew impatient, bordering on a threat. “Don’t be ridiculous, Cameron. I’m in a crucial meeting. The future of the company rests on this summit.” She had reduced everything to me being “ridiculous.” Her stupidity and moral bankruptcy finally broke my calm. I nearly laughed. I leaned into the camera and spoke, my voice sharp and cutting. “Perfect, Sloane.” “Your competence, your leadership—I’m done with the evaluation.” I didn’t wait for her response. I threw the phone back to the stunned Brody. Then I pulled out my own phone, dialed my father’s number, and hit call. The instant he picked up, I spoke. My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clearly through the silence of the print room and echoed across the stunned office floor. “Dad, you can cancel the inspection.” “Tell Sloane Albright to come back here. And tell her to bring the divorce papers.”

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I found my husband in the storage room with a woman from the assembly line. When I rushed in, he shoved me back, his eyes flashing with raw annoyance. “So what if a guy needs to blow off a little steam? Don’t make a scene, Ellie. I’m about to be promoted to section chief, and you’re just a housewife who couldn’t feed herself without me. Who gave you the right to come down here?” Unlike my frantic breakdown, the other woman’s husband, a quiet, broad-shouldered man I vaguely recognized, simply lifted his eyes. “Why?” he asked. The single word hung there, heavier than any shout. Chelsea Lowe, the woman, pulled her work uniform back on with a dismissive roll of her eyes. “You’re never home. All you do is shove cash at me, and you couldn’t even get me a decent benefits package. I don’t want a pile of cash, I want stability. A life. And a husband who’s present. Am I wrong to ask for that?” Overnight, we became the laughingstock of Stanton Steel Mill. The morning I finalized the divorce, dragging my battered suitcase out of the house with nothing but the clothes on my back, I saw the tall, broad-shouldered man standing outside the courthouse, his eyes wide and unbelievably lost. On a desperate, unhinged impulse, I reached out and grabbed his sleeve. “I want a lot of money,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. “I want security. Look at me. Do you think I’d… suffice?” … Calvin Walker—Cal—flashed with surprise. He just stared at me, saying nothing, and I felt my cheeks flush hot with embarrassment. We knew each other, though barely. We’d been in the same eighth-grade class. I was the class president, meticulous and organized. He was the student treasurer, quiet and focused. We hadn’t exchanged a single word since graduation. And here we were, meeting again in the aftermath of a disaster—my husband and his wife caught red-handed. The atmosphere was unbearable, and I was just about to stammer out that my offer was a sick joke, when he spoke. “I’m an independent contractor,” Cal said, his eyes fixed on the pavement. “I’m on the road constantly. I won’t be able to give you a lot of my time, and I won’t be able to ‘care for you’ in the traditional sense. But I will send home every dime I make. You will never have to worry about money again.” I froze. Was he… serious? Cal pressed his lips into a thin line, a light red creeping up his neck. He looked profoundly uncomfortable. “I still live with my mother and my younger brother and sister. They keep to themselves, you don’t have to worry about them bothering you. But… if anything difficult happens, a household crisis… I’d be grateful if you could look out for them.” I nodded automatically. “Of course. They’d be family.” The words hung in the air, causing both of us to stop short and blush fiercely. Cal—all six-foot-three of him—stood there and nervously scratched the back of his neck. “Then… let’s go,” he mumbled. It wasn’t until we walked out of the Justice of the Peace office, a brand-new marriage certificate clutched in my hand, that I fully processed the last twenty-four hours. This morning, I’d divorced Gary Miller. This afternoon, I’d married a stranger based on a transaction. Ellie Stone, you’ve truly lost your mind. Cal naturally took my suitcase. We turned a corner and were suddenly standing in front of his house. A teenage boy burst out the door, his fists clenched, his eyes blazing red. Close behind him was a shy, timid little girl who’d clearly been crying. “Cal! She took everything that wasn’t bolted down! The dress you bought for Daisy, she even snatched that!” Cal was instantly focused on soothing his younger siblings. I stood to the side, feeling like a clumsy intruder. When he finally calmed them down, he turned to me, his expression full of genuine guilt. “I have to leave for the city tonight. I’m so sorry. Our first day of marriage and I have to…” I waved a hand dismissively. “Work is important.” He gave me another round of worried instructions, then picked up his travel bag. He made it to the mouth of the alley before stopping. After a long hesitation, he spun around, took two massive strides back to me, and gave me a lightning-quick, one-armed hug. “Wait for me,” he said. The scent of simple, clean laundry soap hit me—the kind you use on heavy work clothes. My heart skipped a beat. I watched until his silhouette vanished completely, then slowly walked into the small yard. Cal’s mother, Ma Walker, frail and bent, came out to greet me, her eyes full of profound anxiety. “Child, Cal told me everything. You’ll stay in this room. Sam does the heavy work, and Daisy cooks a simple meal. We won’t be any trouble to you.” I glanced at Sam and Daisy, neither of whom reached my shoulder, and let out a quiet sigh. I’d grown up in the same industrial park—I knew the Walker family’s story. Their father had died in a mill accident, leaving behind an old mother and two minors. It was heartbreaking. I offered them a gentle smile, a smile that was also for myself. “I’m married into this family now. We’re one. Don’t talk like strangers.” I rolled up my sleeves and walked into the tiny kitchen, where I was immediately stunned. There was a full-sized electric refrigerator humming quietly in the corner. I remembered how the Mill Director had bragged for weeks when he got his. Gary had just called me crazy when I suggested we buy one. It seemed this ‘independent contractor’ really was making money. Using what ingredients I could find, I quickly whipped up four bowls of simple chicken sandwiches and fried a few eggs. Sam and Daisy silently bowed their heads, devouring the food. Ma Walker was overwhelmed, gripping my hand and repeating, “You shouldn’t have, child. You shouldn’t have.” I felt a sudden, unexpected warmth spread through me. It was the first solid, peaceful meal I’d eaten since I discovered Gary’s betrayal. I noticed Daisy’s hair was matted and sticky, and casually offered to wash it for her after dinner. All three of them looked up at me, their expressions suddenly shifting. Before I could ask why, the front gate exploded open with a crash. “I didn’t believe it when they told me! Eleanor Stone, you really are here!” My mother stormed into the yard, her face thunderous, with a few nosy neighborhood women trailing behind her. I rose to meet her. “Mom, what are you doing here?” She rushed into the yard, pointing a finger directly at my nose. “What am I doing here? I heard about Gary! What man doesn’t fool around a little? And you, you just divorced him! Now that gold-digger Chelsea has him cornered—I hear she’s forcing him to set a wedding date!” I took a deep breath. “Mom, Gary was caught with another woman in the storage room. The whole plant saw it!” She cut me off impatiently. “So what! What good is your pride when you’re out on the street? And now this! You married Cal Walker! Everyone knows his family is dirt poor, with a sickly old mother and two drain-on-the-system siblings!” My face went cold. “It’s too late. I’m already married to him.” She stomped her foot in fury. “You’re an idiot! Your father and I chose Gary Miller for you—a Union man, a technical position, such stability! Now you’re stuck with a traveling salesman who has no benefits and no fixed job!” My voice dropped to a level of icy calm I didn’t know I possessed. “Cal doesn’t have a Union job. But at least he respects me. That makes him better than Gary, a thousand times over.” Ma Walker shuffled forward, trying to placate her. “In-law, Ellie is a good girl. We may be poor, but we will never mistreat her. Cal is a quiet man, but his heart is honest…” “You shut your mouth!” My mother shot Ma Walker a look of pure contempt, then turned back to me. “Fine. Your wings are grown. I can’t stop you! But you’ll come crawling back to me when you’re broke!” She slammed the gate shut as she left, leaving a ring of gossiping neighbors. I simply bowed my head and continued eating. For five years with Gary, I’d been a puppet: cooking, cleaning, waiting. And for what? At least now, for the first time, I had made a choice for myself. The days settled into a strange rhythm. Cal’s letters arrived every week, rain or shine, a short update on his travels and work. His handwriting was beautiful, I remembered that from eighth grade. I wrote back, telling him everything was fine at home. It was odd—we’d known each other for years, married after a day, yet we communicated with a strange, easy synchronicity. Ma Walker was frail but never complained. Sam, at thirteen, was incredibly responsible. Daisy, meanwhile, simply began to shadow me. I heated water on the stove and was washing her hair when she suddenly whispered, “Ellie, you’re so nice.” I paused. “Was… was your old sister-in-law not nice?” Daisy went silent. Sam, standing nearby, scoffed. “She hated us. Said we were dirty. Complained we made the house look cheap. All she did was argue with Cal and demand money.” A sharp pang hit me. I could understand Chelsea’s desire for security, for a better life. But destroying two families to get it, and taking it out on two children, was a different kind of wrong. I ruffled Daisy’s clean hair. “I’m your sister-in-law now. We’re a family.” Daisy suddenly turned and hugged me. Sam stood stock-still, but the light in his eyes was bright and clear. I started to think that this quiet life was better than anything I’d known—a peaceful, if uncertain, existence. Until Chelsea Lowe showed up at the gate. “Oh, this yard is just as depressing as I remember.” I put down the laundry I was folding and walked out. There she was. She surveyed the small yard with a look of utter disdain. Ma Walker stepped out of the kitchen, her face instantly pale. “What do you want?” Chelsea gave a cold smile. “Mrs. Walker, I’m in the Mill Administration’s Property Division now. And according to Mill policy, housing is only for active employees and their immediate, dependent family. Cal is an independent contractor. You no longer qualify to live here.” I gently pushed the furious Sam behind me and stepped forward. Chelsea looked me up and down with a sneer. “Ellie Stone. I can’t believe you actually married into this. What, Gary dumped you, so you were desperate enough to pick up his trash?” “Show some respect,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. She laughed, a thin, brittle sound. “I’m doing my job. You have until the end of the month to vacate. The Mill needs to reclaim this property for redistribution. Honestly, you should be happy. This place is a dump.” Chelsea stalked off in her high heels. I placed a calming hand on Ma Walker’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. What she says isn’t the final word.” I changed my clothes and headed straight to the Mill. The huge, gray main gates looked exactly the same. “Well, well. If it isn’t Eleanor Stone.” I stopped. Gary Miller was standing there, his smile widening. “Can’t stand that shithole house? I heard Chelsea is kicking you out. Told you that traveling man couldn’t hold a candle to me. Regretting it yet?” I met his eyes, saying nothing. His grin became predatory. “Look, if you’re really desperate… For old times’ sake, I could help you out. No title, of course—Chelsea and I are getting married next month. But I could find you a little place, somewhere you could occasionally keep me company…” I lifted my chin. “Gary Miller, do you have any shame?” His face hardened. “Don’t play high and mighty with me, Ellie. You’re a divorcee who married a trucker—a piece of used goods. Don’t pretend you’re above anything.” A small crowd was starting to gather. My head was pounding, my body trembling with rage. But I didn’t turn away like I used to. Instead, I looked him dead in the eye. “I’m divorced. I married a contractor. But I work for everything I have. I don’t steal, I don’t cheat, and I don’t destroy families. You? Caught with your pants down, a laughingstock. Did you get that section chief promotion? No. Now Chelsea is forcing you into marriage, and your mother’s in the hospital from the stress. Who has the pride now?” Gary’s face went scarlet. He lunged forward to grab me. I instinctively stepped back, right into the path of the Mill Director, Mr. Henderson, who was just leaving the commissary. My mind clicked. I charged forward, cutting him off. “Mr. Henderson! I’m Eleanor Stone, Cal Walker’s wife. I apologize for stopping you, sir, but I need to ask you, in front of all these good people, for justice!” The courtyard went silent. Mr. Henderson frowned. “Ms. Stone, let’s discuss this in my office.” I shook my head, setting my jaw. “It needs to be said in the light! This!” I held up a piece of yellowed paper. “This is the official seven-year-old Worker’s Comp. agreement for Mr. Walker’s father, who died in the line of duty! And this is the Mill Committee’s resolution!” The crowd swelled. My hands were shaking, but I forced my fists tight and kept my head high. “Mr. Henderson! Fellow workers! Mr. Walker gave his life to this Mill! He left behind a sickly wife and two minor children. The Mill promised to care for them! And now, because his son, Cal, is not a full-time Union employee, the Administration wants to throw this family out of the home they’ve lived in for fifteen years! Is that what you call justice? Is that what this Mill stands for?” A roar of chatter erupted. Old workers were nodding, their faces full of sympathy. “You can’t take that house!” someone yelled. “Old Man Walker was a good man!” “This is a disgrace!” Mr. Henderson’s face was dark. Chelsea, having heard the commotion, rushed over, her face panicked. “Ellie! What are you doing? The housing rule is Mill policy!” I shot her a cold look. “Chelsea, you’re misusing your small piece of authority. Are you doing this for policy, or because you’re still bitter? You stole everything valuable from that house when you left—aren’t you afraid of karma?” Chelsea was choked into silence. Mr. Henderson finally spoke, his voice booming. “Mr. Walker was a dedicated worker! The Mill’s commitment to his family is forever binding! You will not be moving! We will look into the Property Division’s actions immediately! Ms. Stone, does that satisfy you?” I knew a victory when I saw one. I thanked him profusely and spun around, heading for the exit. When I reached the quiet alley, my legs went weak, and I nearly collapsed. All my life, I’d listened to my parents, then my husband. I was the master of passive compliance. If my divorce was my first act of defiance, this was my first act of strength. I finally had people I was willing to fight for. The house was saved, but the Mill Director confrontation became the new gossip. Everywhere I went, people whispered. Thanks to Gary and Chelsea’s mudslinging, the story had been twisted: I was the unhinged harpy who’d made Gary’s life hell. Cal was the abusive, broke slob. They were the tragic, destined couple. I just scoffed. There was truly no limit to shamelessness. Chelsea even sent a wedding invitation. I tucked it into my purse. “Go? Of course, I’m going,” I told Ma Walker. “A free meal is a free meal.” Their wedding was at the finest banquet hall in town. Rumors flew that Chelsea had demanded an engagement ring, a brand-new car, and five thousand dollars in cash. The whole town was buzzing. Gary had given my parents three thousand dollars years ago, and my mother had bragged for a month. Chelsea was going out in style. I arrived with Sam and Daisy. Chelsea spotted me immediately and glided over. “Well, look who came. I heard your husband hasn’t sent a letter in over a month. Did he lose his shirt and decide not to come home?” I rolled my eyes and took a seat under the curious gazes of the crowd. Gary, already red-faced and tipsy, leaned close to me. “Ellie, I never meant to divorce you. It was just a fling. You had to make a scene, and look what happened. All this—the money, the title—it should’ve been yours. Now you’re with that bum. My buddy saw Cal down south. He’s flat broke. He won’t show his face here.” I gave him a look of cold dismissal and told Sam and Daisy to focus on their meal. Gary slunk away, nursing his pride. As the champagne flowed and the sickeningly sweet toasts continued, Gary’s face grew redder, and Chelsea leaned against him, the picture of smug triumph. I took it all in, meeting every judging stare. Then the restaurant door burst open. The three neighborhood women who’d followed my mother came charging in. “Ellie! Go home! Your husband is back!” I snapped my head up. But Mrs. Henderson, her mouth set in a grim line, grabbed my arm. “Ellie! Stop eating! Cal… your Cal… something terrible has happened!” My heart slammed against my ribs. “Mrs. Henderson, what is it? Did he have an accident?” She couldn’t articulate it. Finally, she slapped her thigh. “I can’t explain! Just get your things, take Sam and Daisy, and hurry!” My face went pale. I threw down my fork, grabbed the kids, and sprinted out the door. Gary and Chelsea exchanged a look and, with no hesitation, followed. The lavish wedding reception instantly emptied out. A massive, anxious crowd streamed out of the banquet hall and down the alley behind me. I reached the mouth of the alley and my breath hitched. My eyes went wide with disbelief.

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At the party, my husband’s childhood friend read aloud from a phone. “Seven-year itch—how do you make divorce look inevitable?” Corey Reese, to everyone who knew her—smiled, leaning conspiratorially against my husband. “Seb, you and Jules are almost exactly seven years in,” she purred. “Aren’t you bored yet?” My husband, Sebastian Holt, was absorbed in a document on his phone, barely bothering to lift his head. “We’re fine. It’s… convenient,” he muttered. I was deeply unsatisfied with his answer. Because I was the one who posted the thread. 1 Not getting the reaction she wanted, a flicker of disappointment and awkwardness crossed Corey’s face. She quickly covered it up. Just then, her phone rang, giving her a graceful exit. “Oh, I need to take this outside.” She stopped at the door, turning back. “Shoot, I forgot my coat in the car. Left it in the underground lot.” Sebastian finally looked up, his movements natural as he took off the expensive wool coat hanging on his chair. “Take mine. And hurry up.” Corey winked playfully. “Yes, sir.” The friends in the private room watched the familiar exchange, used to this rhythm. Only Preston Brooks’s new girlfriend frowned, tugging at my sleeve. I smiled at her and shook my head, signaling that I didn’t care. “Excuse me. I’m going to the restroom.” 2 By the time I walked back toward the room, Corey still hadn’t returned. I was about to push the door open when I heard Preston’s voice inside. “Seb, Corey’s been single for years. She has to be waiting for you, right?” A moment of silence, then another voice chimed in. “Totally. Back in college, Corey and Seb were the campus Golden Couple. Who knew he’d end up marrying…” “Seb, you’re not tempted at all?” I realized the music had stopped at some point. The low light of the room played across Sebastian’s face. He paused for a few seconds before answering. “I won’t destroy my life.” The room went silent after that, until the person who had asked coughed and awkwardly changed the subject. A bitter, mocking curve lifted my lips. Sebastian was a fundamental perfectionist. For years, he had played the role of the ideal, dutiful husband. But he didn’t love me. I was simply the woman designated by a decades-old family alliance, the perfect partner to merge with his life plan. We graduated, we married. Everything was a checklist item on his meticulously planned roadmap. Even after seven years, my lack of pregnancy was because he had decreed we wouldn’t have children until he turned thirty. He wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t let a single stain jeopardize the perfect life he had built. But he never, ever, refused Corey’s easy intimacy. 3 Corey came back with red-rimmed eyes. She drank glass after glass, talking about how her family was pressuring her to settle down. When the party wrapped up, she was sobbing and draped over Sebastian, refusing to let go. The others filed out, one by one. Sebastian stood by the door, supporting a wobbly Corey. When the valet pulled his car around, he turned to me. “Call an Uber. I’m driving Corey home.” I was busy scrolling on my phone, disinterested. I just nodded. Sebastian’s brow furrowed. “Don’t throw a tantrum, Jules. The car has a dashcam. You can review the footage when I get back.” Was he blind? Who was throwing a tantrum? I rolled my eyes internally, then looked up, plastering on a fake, sugary smile. “It’s fine. I trust you. Go on.” Sebastian stared at me, his expression unreadable—a mix of confusion and scrutiny. He finally said nothing, turning to gently guide Corey into the car. 4 When I got home, I took a long, hot bath, sipped a glass of Pinot Noir, and was ready for bed. The front door opened quietly. Sebastian came upstairs, showered, and changed into his silk pajamas, all without making a sound. Just as I was drifting off, he slid into the bed and wrapped his arm around my waist from behind. The sudden contact startled me instantly awake. He pressed his mouth to my ear, his breath still faintly smelling of whiskey. “It’s our designated evening…” His hand began to drift lower, growing bolder. I quickly pressed down on his hand, sat up, and pulled the comforter around myself. “I’m not feeling well tonight.” Sebastian froze. He sat up slowly, adjusting his pajama collar. “Your cycle passed last week.” His lips tightened, his eyes dark, filled with a mixture of displeasure and suspicion. “You’re angry.” I scooted a few more inches away. “No, I’m just genuinely not in the mood.” Sebastian looked down, lost in thought. After a long silence, he spoke again. “I understand. Rest well.” He stood up, left the bed, and walked back to his own room. 5 We’d had separate bedrooms for all seven years of our marriage. He’d insisted that a couple needed their own private space. We slept in our own rooms most of the time, only sharing a bed—and intimacy—twice a month. Back then, I was too shy and too overjoyed to be married to him to question it. I found the arrangement confusing and a little sad, but I agreed. Now, I was profoundly grateful he wouldn’t be spending the night in my bed. … The next day was Sunday, which meant the mandatory visit to Sebastian’s parents, the Holts. Before I even opened the door, I heard loud, familiar laughter. Corey was there. It wasn’t a surprise, but sometimes I had to admire her sheer, exhausting stamina. The Holts and the Reeses were next-door neighbors, and my mother-in-law, Martha, had always adored Corey. She’d even tried to convince Seb’s grandfather to break off the engagement with me years ago. Now, my failure to produce a grandchild—despite Seb being the one who wanted to wait—made me even more of an unsatisfactory daughter-in-law in her eyes. “Jules, why don’t you go to the kitchen and make Corey a hangover remedy?” Martha didn’t wait for me to put my purse down before giving orders. She then turned to pat Corey affectionately. “You silly girl, you drank last night. You should be resting, but you always insist on coming to see me.” Corey hooked her arm through Martha’s. “You’re my godmother, Mom. A daughter seeing her mother—it’s only natural!” Sebastian, thinking I was heading to the kitchen, caught my hand. He looked at his mother. “Let the housekeeper do it, Mom. Jules isn’t feeling well.” Martha shot me a dismissive glance. “Didn’t you tell me Jules makes the best soup?” She turned back to Seb. “If she’s not well, she should stay home and rest. Who does she expect to wait on her here?” I retrieved my phone from the entryway table and, right in front of Sebastian, answered a reminder I’d set. “Hello? Oh, really? My second cousin’s wife’s sister-in-law is having the baby shower moved up? Right, I’m on my way.” I smoothly tucked the phone into my handbag. “So sorry, everyone. Something unavoidable has come up. I have to leave.” I ignored Martha’s wide-eyed, stunned face, turned on my heel, and slammed the door behind me. 6 I hadn’t taken three steps before my arm was wrenched back. “Juliet! What is this nonsense?” Sebastian’s face was dark with fury, his voice sharp with accusation. “I told you not to make the soup. Mother’s old, she has her moods—can’t you just swallow your pride for one morning?” Then, his voice softened slightly. “Stop being dramatic about Corey. You’re my wife. You know you’re the one that matters.” “She’s just part of the furniture here. She grew up in this house.” “If you really can’t stand being around her, I’ll tell her to try to avoid Sundays.” “Now, be a good girl and come back inside. Apologize to Mom…” I yanked my arm away, completely fed up. “I don’t want to see anyone. That includes you and your mother.” I had actually come here today hoping to sit them down and discuss the divorce calmly. But they couldn’t help themselves—they jumped at the chance to irritate me. I used to be vibrant, spirited, even a little wild. But because I fell for Sebastian, I gradually toned down my personality. Sebastian was always the center of attention—good family, good reputation, and devastatingly handsome. And I was just a wealthy heiress who had only ever cared about fun. I thought a perfect man like Sebastian would, like in a novel, fall in love with me after the marriage, and we would build an ideal life. But I had spent seven years trying, and I hadn’t stirred an ounce of genuine emotion in him. In his eyes, his career was paramount, and his schedule was sacred. Marriage was just a task to be completed. He made me trade my extravagant designer dresses for tasteful, demure attire. He insisted I maintain proper decorum at all times, a suitable corporate wife accompanying him to galas. I was forbidden from dropping by his office unannounced. If I wanted to schedule a date, I had to clear it with his executive assistant a week in advance. Yet, he allowed Corey free access to his life, whenever and wherever. I fought and cried about it for the first few years… But he would always tell me that his dynamic with Corey had always been this way; it was his life, and he was accustomed to it. I was the newcomer, and I had to conform to his existing lifestyle. I stared blankly at the wedding band on my finger. Preston’s new girlfriend had quietly offered me advice yesterday. She told me a woman should know when she’s lucky. If she could marry into that kind of wealth, she wouldn’t care if her husband had one mistress or five. Money, status, and no demanding husband to tend to—what a good deal, she’d said. I understood her choice. But I thanked her for the kind guidance without agreeing. If I were penniless, having to rely on Sebastian would be one thing. But I was beautiful, rich, and in the prime of my life. Why should I waste it on a man like him? Besides, intimacy only twice a month… I was a woman with normal needs, not a nun. I thought of the texts my best friend occasionally sent me—photos of chiseled, tanned European guys… That girl lives well. 7 Sebastian didn’t want a divorce. My lawyer said that without concrete evidence of fault from the husband, a contested divorce would be brutal. The Holt family’s legal team was formidable. If I insisted on a court battle, I’d be drawn and quartered publicly. Frowning in frustration, I scrolled through my phone. I saw a new, trending post on a gossip forum (the kind dedicated to the city’s elite). [Mr. H is my childhood sweetheart. He’s unhappy with his arranged wife and hasn’t been happy for years, but he’s always carried a torch for me. Should I fight to get him back?] Most of the comments were strongly against the poster, many calling her a homewrecker. The poster hit back at her critics: “His wife is the interloper! If it wasn’t for her, we would have been together years ago.” The replies below were immediate and scathing: “So you and Mr. H never actually dated…” “If you were childhood sweethearts, why weren’t you together before the wife arrived? Sounds like you’re delusional.” “Teens today are precocious. If he liked you, he would have asked you out in high school or college. You’re talking about ‘fighting to get him back’… that’s called breaking up a marriage.” I raised an eyebrow at the poster’s ID: ItsAlwaysCoreyT. Oh, good heavens. She’s not even trying to hide it. A grin spread across my face. I opened the keyboard and typed quickly. “True love is never wrong! Go for it, Poster!” “Just sleep with him, force his hand, get pregnant! He won’t have a choice but to divorce after that.” The post was instantly liked by the original poster. The next comment below mine was furious: “I hope your husband gets forced into marriage by a desperate homewrecker too.” I let out a soft laugh at that. I typed back: “I wish you good fortune on your suggestion.” Before closing the page, I swiftly deleted all my comments. No trace left behind. 8 I ignored Sebastian for a week, and he didn’t seem to have any noticeable reaction. He went to work on time and came home on time. As long as I stayed in my bedroom, I didn’t have to see him. This morning, however, he was home, waiting for me to come down for breakfast. “It’s the seven-year anniversary of our college graduation this weekend. Preston is organizing a reunion.” “Corey… they want to use our Lakefront Estate. He said we could set off fireworks there.” I sat across from him, slowly eating my eggs. “Fine by me. It’s your house. Do what you like.” Sebastian frowned. “It’s our house, Jules.” I waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever.” “I won’t be attending, though. It sounds loud.” Sebastian, unusually, didn’t insist I accompany him. He paused for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Then rest up.” I watched him leave, his face unperturbed. I laughed coldly to myself. The seven-year anniversary of his college graduation… He didn’t remember it was also the seven-year anniversary of our wedding. Last year, I gave him the silent treatment for a month because he forgot the date. He never even realized I was upset. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t care. … By Sunday, Corey was the most excited person. She posted ten updates on social media. A crowd was outside the estate, grilling and playing games. Her dress caught my eye—it looked strangely familiar. I sent a photo to my best friend, who responded with a long voice message chain. “That’s the dress Seb had custom-made for you last year, remember?” “He said it was to make up for forgetting your six-year anniversary. You sent me photos of the fitting!” “That bastard. Did he give her your dress?” “Or does he just not remember giving you anything at all?” “Wait, isn’t today your wedding anniversary? I remember that. Did he forget again?!” “Jesus Christ…” I quickly reassured her. “It’s fine, it’s a non-issue.” “I was hoping he’d forget.” Corey’s blatant provocation meant she was confident. She felt she had him. I just had to wait for her good news. 9 I waited until 1:00 AM. The house was quiet in the middle of the night. I walked to Sebastian’s room and knocked. No answer. Not coming home tonight. I dressed quickly and drove out. It took only twenty minutes to reach the Lakefront Estate. I opened the door. The air inside reeked of stale liquor. A few bodies were sprawled awkwardly on the couches. I slapped the switch for the largest chandelier. The room instantly flooded with harsh light. Preston rubbed his eyes, groaning. “Who the hell turned on the lights…” When he saw me, he froze. “Jules? Wife? It’s the middle of the night—what are you doing here?” I didn’t answer, slowly walking into the room, kicking lightly at the sleeping bodies as I went. “Are you looking for Seb?” I glanced sidelong at him. “Who else would I be looking for? You?” He shut up instantly. Preston got up and shuffled over to me, forcing a strained smile. “Seb had too much to drink today. He’s sleeping upstairs.” “It’s late, Jules. Maybe you should head back and get some sleep.” I ignored him. Once all the stragglers in the living room were awake, I started toward the stairs. Before leaving, I had checked my phone. Corey had posted a new reply to her forum thread: “He’s in my bed right now. I’m about to get him back.” What they didn’t know was that I had installed a comprehensive, discreet camera system in this house when it was first renovated. I had watched Corey slip something into Sebastian’s drink, then, while everyone was distracted, guide his limp body upstairs. I saw everything on the remote feed. I stopped outside the master bedroom. The crowd downstairs, sensing the change in atmosphere, crept up behind me. Preston tried to lighten the mood as he walked next to me. “Jules, you’re acting like this is a sting operation, haha…” “You know how good Seb’s character is. And we’re all here. Stop being suspicious—it’s bad for a marriage, you know…” He didn’t finish the sentence. I pulled out my key card and opened the door. The sight inside made him instantly forget what he was saying.

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The New Year’s Day dinner was loud, crowded, and already too boozy. My mother, bless her heart, chose that moment—right between the turkey and the pie—to become utterly weepy. She grabbed my wife, Vanessa, the CEO of the local manufacturing plant, by the hand, her eyes swimming. “Vanessa, honey, thank you. Thank you for making an exception and hiring my oldest boy as the Chief Engineer.” “Felix never finished high school; jobs are so hard for him. It’s a miracle you—his sister-in-law—helped him out.” “I promise, he’ll pay you back…” I smoothly took the glass of wine from her hand. “Mom, easy on the Merlot. Vanessa’s infamous for being ruthless and playing by the book. She even fired me years ago just to avoid any hint of nepotism. No way she’d bend the rules for Felix.” My mother looked genuinely confused. “You don’t know? Vanessa said… you agreed to it.” I froze. I turned my head, staring at Vanessa. She immediately looked away. “Nolan, you know how hard it is out there for Felix with his background. I just felt a pang of pity. He needed a break. But you’re different. You have me. A job isn’t the most important thing when you’re married to the CEO.” Her voice was smooth, a practiced balm. “Besides, I’ve always provided for you. It’s my way of… making amends, I suppose.” I let out a laugh that tasted like tears. Good. That train ticket, the one tucked away for three years, inviting me south to a fresh start, could finally stop being a secret. … A sharp clink and the wine glass hit the floor, shattering the silence. Mom instantly sobered up. “Did… did I say something wrong?” A bitter, scalding flush of tears finally broke free. I swung around, fixing my gaze on the man sitting rigidly opposite me, as agonizing memories roared through my mind. Vanessa was instantly on high alert, physically stepping in front of Felix. “Nolan, this is ancient history. On New Year’s, you really have to ruin the night for the whole family?” I stared coldly at both of them. “So, you admit it?” The room was dead silent. No one answered. Rage surged. I reached up, tore off the pendant I’d cherished for a decade, and hurled it out the window. “Nolan, are you insane? Do you know how expensive that was?” Vanessa’s voice was a furious crack in the quiet room. I turned back, my eyes moving past her angry face to settle on Felix, who was shrinking behind her. He was wearing a brand-new leather jacket—crisp, expensive, and a perfect fit. Just last month, when Vanessa went to the city for a conference, she’d told me she was too busy to pick up anything for me. Now I knew where her attention had gone. “Expensive?” My voice was unnervingly calm. “Is it more expensive than my entire future, CEO Vanessa?” Vanessa’s face changed. She walked toward me. “Stop causing a scene. We can talk about this later.” “We’ll talk now!” I roared, losing all control. “On New Year’s? Do you need to be so dramatic?” Her tone was infuriatingly level. “Dramatic? How did I lose my job, Vanessa?” I hammered the table. “You told me if I got promoted, people would call it nepotism. You fired me yourself, in front of everyone, accusing me of trying to get in through the back door!” “And now you’re telling me you did it all just so Felix could walk into my spot and get the Chief Engineer title?” “I waited ten years for a shot at the city office. Ten years! And you wiped it all out with a single lie!” “SLAP!” A sharp sting against my cheek. Vanessa’s chest was heaving, her finger trembling as she pointed at me. “On a holiday, you want to dredge up old resentment?” Relatives rushed over to grab her arms. “Woah, easy there, Vanessa! It’s the holiday, talk it out, don’t hit him.” Just then, Felix suddenly burst into tears, dramatically throwing himself onto his knees in front of me. “Nolan, please, stop arguing with Vanessa. It’s all my fault! Only mine!” “I’ll quit! I’ll give up the job! I’d rather starve or beg in the street than cause a rift between you two! If you’re still not satisfied, I’ll just end it!” He bolted for the door. Vanessa grabbed him. “What are you doing?” The crowd rushed to restrain him. “Felix, hold on, talk it out…” Vanessa took a deep, shaky breath, then glared at me, her eyes spitting fire. “Look what you’ve done to Felix!” “Don’t you know everything I did was for you? If Felix hadn’t dropped out of school and handed over his tuition money, would you even have a degree today? I’m just repaying a debt! Can you stop being so selfish for once?” I stood frozen. The truth was, Felix had skipped school constantly, chasing gambling debts. He’d been beaten half to death and come home stealing Mom and Dad’s money. They were the ones who finally said he was hopeless and told me to go to college. I was the one who lost everything, yet I was the one being told to be reasonable? “My job is gone,” I whispered. “You fired me, gave my life to him, and you claim it was for my own good?” I slammed my fist onto the table, blood immediately welling up between my knuckles. The relatives clamored, and even my mother got up, speaking in that worn-out, long-suffering tone. “The past is the past, Nolan. Why make a scene? Just apologize to Vanessa. Your brother had it rough, too. It’s right that Vanessa helped him. Can’t you be supportive of your wife? She has it hard!” Vanessa lowered her head, a look of contrived remorse flashing across her face as she reached for my hand. But Felix was faster. He shoved himself between us, grabbing my bleeding hand. His eyes were wild. “Little brother, don’t be like this. It’s all my fault. I’m a drain on everyone.” “I’m a curse on this world. Just let me die! Don’t fight with Vanessa; she only tried to compensate me, she meant well—” He spun around, grabbed a sharp shard of broken porcelain from the table, and lunged it toward his neck. “It’s my fault! I’ll pay you with my life!” Vanessa screamed and threw herself forward, wrapping him in a desperate embrace. “Felix!” she sobbed. “Why are you taking the blame? If he hadn’t stolen your place all those years ago, you would be the one standing by my side!” The naked truth, a tidal wave of genuine feeling, crashed over the silent room. Vanessa shoved me out the front door. “Felix is trying to kill himself because of you! Are you going to stay here and torment him further?” The cold wind whipped against my face, turning the wound in my heart into a burning scar. I heard Felix’s hysterical crying behind the closed door. “It’s my fault! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be fighting. I’m just a burden. Let me die!” Then, Vanessa’s voice—a tenderness I had never once heard directed at me—cut through the noise. “Don’t talk about dying. You are the man I love most. Don’t speak such awful things.” “I only recognize you as my husband.” I was hit by a shockwave, yet I started to laugh. Oh. I was the interloper. A torrent of memories flooded my mind. I was twenty-two, and the air was full of fireworks as Vanessa and I married. I was broke, but she was the factory’s rising star. She chose me anyway. “The men who want to marry me only want my money. But I know you want the man, Nolan. I’m only willing to be tied down by you.” Later, when she became CEO, everyone saw us as the golden couple. I was about to transfer to the city, my career peaking. Then she shot down my transfer application. “Nolan, the factory whispers are getting loud. People say I favor you. If you get promoted here, I’ll lose all authority.” “For our family, make a sacrifice. Don’t quit; I’ll fire you. You can collect a severance package.” I was too stunned to argue. She was the CEO, and her signature was law. No one else would touch me. Afterward, she held me, her eyes swimming with remorse. “I’m so sorry, Nolan… but this factory is my life’s work. I can’t let our marriage ruin my reputation. I’ll find you another job. A better one.” I chose to understand, seeing her self-reproach. But she never found me a job. Worse, she made calls, warning off any company that did business with the plant. I was forced into early retirement, spending my days keeping house, cooking, and doing her laundry. I thought I was sacrificing for our future. I realize now: my destroyed career was just to clear a space for Felix. I looked at my hand, the wound still bleeding. I wished I had a scalpel right now. I’d carve open Vanessa’s chest and see what was inside—was it stone, or was it iron? The hysterical crying inside had softened into gentle laughter. I shivered, whether from cold or anger, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t turn back. I dragged my exhausted body into the street, walking aimlessly. Passing under a highway overpass, a couple of thugs surrounded me. “Look at the fancy coat. Must be a rich boy. Time to hand over some holiday cash.” I frowned. “What do you think you’re doing? My wife is the CEO of the county plant! You want to rob me? I’ll have you locked up.” “Who cares about the CEO? God himself couldn’t help you now!” They jumped me. A blinding flash of pain, and I was curled on the ground, powerless. I tasted copper. I reached for my tie to wipe the blood from my mouth. One of them raised his foot, aiming for my head. I shielded myself, bracing for impact. Then a blur of motion. A few sickening thwacks, and the thugs were groaning on the ground. I looked up, a spark of warmth igniting in my chest. “Vanessa…” She stood over me, looking down with a mixture of disgust and contempt. “Well, Nolan. You talk about a future and a career, but here you are, hanging out with bums and lowlifes?” “I was blind. I never saw what a useless, pathetic waste of space you were.” A bitter taste rose in my throat, and before I could deny it, she grabbed my wrist. “Enough. Get up and come home. Do you have any idea how worried Felix is?” Back home, Felix sat innocently in the corner chair. Vanessa pulled a document from her pocket and slapped it onto my chest. “Sign this. After the holidays, you won’t need to show up at the plant anymore.” It was a resignation form. “What… is this?” She frowned, impatient. “I’ve secured Felix’s position. He can’t stay in that dumpy old house. I’m arranging for him to replace you, so I can officially apply for one of the larger factory houses.” She saw my expression and added, softer, “When Felix is settled, this house will be a testament to your contribution. A form of compensation.” Ten years of marriage, ten years as her subordinate, ten years in a tiny shack. I’d asked for a bigger place when I was fired. She said, as CEO, she had to consider the employees first and couldn’t be seen taking a bigger house for her husband. Now, the status I’d never attained was easily handed to Felix. My world collapsed, finally. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said, quietly. She didn’t answer right away. She was too busy nuzzling into Felix. “Red, you’re the best,” Felix murmured. Vanessa stroked his hair, a tender, chastising look on her face. “Stop being silly with me.” Watching their sickening intimacy, and contrasting it with her coldness toward my despair, I was done. I walked to my room, only wanting the box of train tickets. Vanessa looked up, instantly alert. “What are you looking for?” “Are you trying to hide the necessary paperwork so Felix can’t get the job?” She rushed over, pulled the file from the cupboard, and clutched it. “Give it up! I promised Felix I wouldn’t let him suffer!” Seeing her zeal, a dull ache started in my chest. There was no point hiding it anymore. “I’m not looking for files. I’m getting my train tickets.” She laughed out loud. “Tickets? Are you kidding? You think a weak threat to leave is going to scare me?” “Where are you going to go without me?” Yes, where could I go? She’d taken my job. But staying felt like a fate too brutal. I laughed through my tears, my voice raspy. “Vanessa, we are getting a divorce.” She paused, a genuine look of surprise on her face. “You… you know?” Her expression turned jubilant. “I was planning to hold a small wedding for Felix and me during the holidays. But since you’re still my legal husband, I couldn’t make a big show of it.” “Since you agree to divorce, that simplifies things.” She took my hand, a rare gesture of warmth. “Don’t worry, it’ll just be a temporary legal formality. If you agree to sign the papers, I can give Felix the grand wedding he deserves. After he’s settled, we can get back together. How does that sound?” She spoke casually, as if asking me to pick up milk. My heart was bleeding. “No need,” I told her. “I only want the divorce. I won’t be coming back.” She was too high on the excitement to notice. “Don’t be silly. I promised I’d be with you forever.” “Even if we divorce, it’s temporary. In my heart, you’ll always be my only husband.” I was disgusted. I wasn’t interested in being a placeholder. She frowned impatiently. “Since you agree, you must come to the wedding tomorrow—it’s at the biggest hall in the county. Felix and I will be there.” “Oh, and the money you had saved with me? I’ve used it. It’s for the wedding. Felix deserves a good ceremony so no one looks down on him.” I froze. She then took the pendant I’d thrown out earlier, retrieved by one of the relatives. “This is the necklace you threw. Take it. Don’t lose it again.” I took it in silence. She gave me a satisfied smile. The next day, after signing the divorce papers, I walked straight out into the freezing storm. Vanessa felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of emptiness, a crucial piece ripped from her core. She wanted to chase me, but Felix called out to her. The ceremony was about to begin. She stopped. That afternoon, firecrackers popped, and bells chimed. Friends and family congratulated Vanessa on her “new life.” And I was on the southbound train. Later, back at home, she and Felix celebrated. She glanced at the pendant on the coffee table, and a deep, cold dread settled in her stomach. The image of Nolan’s face, cold and final when he said he wouldn’t remarry, flashed into her mind. She felt heavy, unable to breathe. She threw open a window. Toot— A whistling sound, the steam from the old green train, pierced the air. She looked at the metal box on the bedside table. It was empty. The tickets were gone. She realized everything at once and ran to the bedroom. “Nolan!” “Nolan?” She screamed my name, but only silence answered. “What’s wrong?” Felix looked up at her from the couch. “Nolan… Nolan is gone.” Felix’s eyes grew wide, a sudden flicker of concern. “He didn’t come to the wedding today. I knew he was still angry at me.”

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The blizzard had sealed us in and cut the power for four days, and the indoor temperature had dropped below zero. My five-year-old daughter, Maisie, was shivering in my arms, wearing only a thin sweater. My husband, Gary Miller, was outside. He had taken the last of our emergency heating briquettes and arranged them in a giant heart shape in the snow. He did it because the woman living next door had texted him, saying she wished she could see some fireworks. He lit the briquettes. The firelight reflected, warm and satisfied, on his face. He waved enthusiastically toward the woman’s second-story window. I pulled my gaze back and touched Maisie’s forehead. It was already burning up. Gary burst through the door, tracking snow. He was beaming as he told me, “She smiled, Audra. Sherry actually smiled.” He added, with a dismissive wave of his hand, “We have parkas and blankets. We’ll tough it out.” I held my now semiconscious daughter closer and pushed away the hand he reached out to me. “Get out of my way.” He was right. From this moment on, I wasn’t going to “tough it out” anymore. I was going to take my daughter to a spring he would never be a part of. … Gary Miller pushed open the door, letting in a gust of frigid air and the faint, cloying scent of gardenia, his signature cologne. I tightened my hold on five-year-old Maisie. She was tucked deep into a sleeping bag, and her breath misted in the cold air. The power had been out for two days. Our only remaining heat source was the few boxes of coal briquettes stored in the utility closet. Gary walked straight to the closet, hauled out two full boxes, and started for the door. I slid off the bed and blocked his path, my eyes locked on the boxes. “What are you doing? That is the last of the fuel.” He looked at me with an expression of weary martyrdom. “Sherry Kinsley lives next door. She’s alone, the power’s out, and she’s already complaining about the cold. She’s delicate. What if she freezes? Neighbors help neighbors, Audra.” I grabbed the edge of a cardboard box. “Maisie has a fever. The temperature in this house is dropping fast.” I kept my voice low, but it vibrated with cold fury. “If you give her the coal, how are we supposed to survive? Are you trying to let your own wife and daughter freeze to death?” Gary easily yanked the boxes free. My hand scraped against the rough cardboard. I stumbled backward, hitting the coat rack. He smoothed the collar of his thermal shirt, giving me a quick, disdainful glance. “Audra Price, when did you become so selfish? We have down coats and blankets. We can tough this out. Sherry doesn’t even have proper winter gear.” He paused, his lip curling. “You can’t just think about yourself. Be generous. Don’t make me think you’re nothing but a bitter nag.” The front door slammed shut, letting a blast of wind and snow into the hall. I scrambled up and pressed my face to the windowpane, looking through the ice-frosted glass. In the backyard, Gary dumped the boxes of fuel onto the snow, meticulously arranging the black briquettes into a massive heart shape. He pulled out a lighter and ignited them. Flames shot up, bathing his face in an unnatural, satisfied red glow. He tilted his head back, waving up toward the second-floor window next door, where a single candlelight flickered. The curtain moved. A silhouette appeared—a slender figure in what looked like a thin slip dress, holding a wineglass. Gary pulled out his phone and sent a voice message. I could hear the tinny sound through the wall. “Sherry, honey, this fire might not be as pretty as fireworks, but it’ll warm your little heart. See how the flame looks exactly like my heart for you?” I turned away. Maisie whimpered in the sleeping bag. Her forehead was like a furnace. I picked up the old tablet, hoping to put on a show to distract her, but a message popped up: “Subscription Expired.” Gary came in humming, brushing snow off his coat. He was sending another voice message as he kicked off his boots. “Alright, alright, stop pouting. I already renewed your Platinum VIP account. Watch whatever you want. Don’t worry about data, I put you on an unlimited plan.” I shoved the tablet at him. “Maisie wants to watch Paw Patrol. Can you renew the account for the house?” Gary pushed my hand away. “Renew it? Are you kidding? We have no cash to spare right now. Besides, too much screen time is bad for a kid’s eyes. It’s good the power’s out; maybe she’ll break the habit.” I stared into his eyes. “You just spent hundreds of dollars on a Platinum VIP account for Sherry Kinsley.” Gary’s face hardened. He quickly locked his phone and jammed it into his coat pocket. “Were you spying on my phone? Audra, where is the basic trust between a husband and wife? Don’t I deserve privacy?” I pointed to the bedroom. “Maisie’s fever is spiking at 102 degrees. Go get the Motrin. It’s on the top shelf of the utility closet.” Gary shook his head, already turning for the door. “It’s just a fever. Bundle her up; she’ll sweat it out. Stop being so dramatic. Sherry’s water pipes might have burst. I need to go help her fix them.” He snatched his toolbox. “She’s a single woman living alone. If I don’t help her, who will? Can’t you be reasonable for once?” He charged out into the storm. I held the limp Maisie in my arms, listening to the faint sound of laughter drifting over from the next house. Around 3 AM, I checked my phone and saw a new post on Sherry’s social media feed. The photo showed two shadows cozied up in front of a blazing hearth. The caption read: “Snowy night, warm company. So glad to have you.” The fuel in that hearth was the last of the coal from my house. I put the phone down and began systematically searching the house, packing every usable supply into my old hiking backpacks. The next morning, Gary returned, a tell-tale hickey visible on his neck. He collapsed onto the sofa. “Honey, do we have any food? I’m starving.” He groaned, rubbing his back. “I was up all night fixing pipes. My back is killing me. Make me a big bowl of hot soup noodles. Put two eggs in it.” I was in the kitchen, carefully feeding warm water to Maisie. I glanced at him. The pot on the stove held a small amount of thin rice porridge—all that was left, and it was reserved for Maisie. I picked up the pot. In front of him, I slowly, deliberately poured the entire contents into the trash can. Gary shot upright. “Are you insane?! That’s food! Do you have any idea what the situation is outside? And you just dump it? Are you sick in the head?” I tossed the empty pot into the sink. “I’d feed it to the dog before I gave it to you.” Gary pointed a shaky finger at me. “Audra Price, what the hell is your problem? I just went to help a neighbor fix a leaky pipe! Why are you being so passive-aggressive? Your heart is the size of a pinprick! Why can’t you be understanding, like Sherry?” I turned toward a cabinet, searching for a piece of hidden chocolate Maisie had stashed months ago. Gary spotted it, snatched the candy bar from my hand, and shoved it into his pocket. “This is mine. Sherry has low blood sugar; she woke up dizzy this morning. She needs this for an emergency boost.” I reached out to grab it back. “That’s for Maisie! She hasn’t eaten anything solid in a day!” Gary shoved me hard. I stumbled and hit the wall. He protected his pocket. “Kids shouldn’t eat too much candy, it ruins their teeth! Sherry needs this for survival!” He paused, straightening his coat. “Besides, I’m just cultivating a good relationship with her. She can help us out later if we need it.” He hurried toward the neighbor’s house. Through the window, I saw Sherry standing at the second-floor sill, wearing my expensive, delicate lace thermal undershirt. The neckline was pulled low. She bent over to smile at him, the garment hanging loosely on her. Gary reached out, pinching her waist through the windowpane, and they shared a long, private smile. Thirty minutes later, Gary was back. I pointed to his phone, which he’d left charging on the nightstand. “Sherry is wearing my clothes.” Gary’s eyes flickered. “Oh. Her clothes got wet, she didn’t have a spare. I just lent her a set for an emergency. You have so many clothes, it’s not like you’ll miss one thermal set.” He scoffed. “Look at you. Why is your mind always in the gutter? She borrowed a shirt, and you’re already spinning a sordid story. You are utterly irrational.” I didn’t argue further. I walked into the bedroom. Seeing my silence, Gary just huffed. “That’s right. It’s normal for a man to have a little fun. As long as you behave and stop being so suspicious, this house is still yours.” He went into the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on. I picked up his phone, which was plugged in on the nightstand. I typed in Sherry’s birthday as the password. I opened his banking app and transferred every liquid cent from his primary account. Then, I opened his insurance folder and purchased a massive accidental death and dismemberment policy, listing Maisie as the sole beneficiary. I deleted the confirmation texts and placed the phone back on the nightstand. From under the bed, I dragged out a signal booster. The screen flickered a few times and finally connected to a faint satellite signal. I sent my coordinates and a short message to a former contact: “Coordinates confirmed. Awaiting extraction.” The reply came back instantly: “Received. Blizzard too heavy for rotary. ETA: Three days.” Gary emerged from the bathroom, toweling his hair. He saw me sitting on the edge of the bed. “Honey, make a pot roast tonight, okay? Sherry said she’s craving home cooking. I’ll take a plate over to her.” I avoided his hand and gave him a faint, chillingly calm smile. “Of course. I’ll start preparing right now.” Gary paused, then grinned, relieved. “That’s my girl. A woman who knows how to be supportive. Don’t worry, I’ll be nicer to you now. As long as you don’t make a fuss.” I touched the small folding knife concealed in my pocket. Deep in the night, Maisie began to convulse beneath the blanket. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes rolled back, and a horrible rattling sound came from her throat. I frantically searched the medical kit, finding only half a bottle of liquid Motrin. As I struggled to twist the cap off, Gary’s phone chirped. It was a voice message from Sherry, her voice laced with a dramatic sniffle. “Gary, my head hurts so much. I think I’m coming down with something.” Gary, who had been playing a video game, instantly bolted up. He lunged across the bed and snatched at the medicine bottle in my hand. “Give it to me! Sherry isn’t feeling well!” I held the bottle in a death grip. “Maisie is having a seizure! This is life-saving medicine!” My voice was a desperate hiss. “Sherry only has a headache! Maisie could die! Are you even human? She’s your daughter!” He brutally wrenched my fingers apart. “Kids get fevers all the time! She’ll shake it off!” He was shouting now. “Sherry is delicate! What if she gets a high fever and damages her brain? Can you pay for that? Give me the damn medicine!” In the struggle, his elbow slammed into my cheekbone. Smash. The bottle flew from my hand, shattering against the stone floor. The pink liquid mixed with shards of glass, splattering everywhere. The silence was broken only by Maisie’s shallow, ragged gasps. Gary froze, then his face went purple with rage. He hauled back and slapped me across the face. “You crazy bitch! If neither of us can have it, then no one can!” He didn’t even glance down at his daughter. “You couldn’t even handle this one simple task! You ruined Sherry’s medicine! You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” He shoved the door open. “God, you’re toxic! I’m going to check on Sherry. You stay here and reflect on what you’ve done!” The door slammed. I threw myself over Maisie. I rushed to the yard, scooped a basin full of snow, mixed it with what little cold water was left in the pitcher, and created a slush bath. I soaked a towel and began relentlessly wiping Maisie’s forehead, armpits, and the palms of her hands. The water was icy, and my hands quickly swelled and reddened, but I didn’t dare stop. By three in the morning, Maisie’s temperature finally dropped, and the convulsions ceased. A video call came in. It was Gary’s mother, Maureen. On the screen, Gary sat beside her, peeling an apple. Maureen glared at me from the screen. “I heard you wouldn’t give that nice Sherry woman the medicine she needed?” Her voice was harsh and self-righteous. “Audra, you need to have foresight. Miss Kinsley’s family owns factories! They have money!” She leaned closer to the phone. “Gary is at a critical point in his career! He needs people like her to back him up. What do you do besides raise a child? You’re useless! Don’t get in Gary’s way!” She gave me a severe look. “If you take care of Miss Kinsley, you’ll be rewarded. If you cross her, you’ll be out of the Miller family!” Gary took a bite of the apple. “Mom’s right. Sherry can elevate my career. Just be a good wife, and your place as the main one is secure.” He smiled mockingly. “I won’t be home tonight. Sherry was upset and needs company.” I stared at the mother and son on the screen. I ended the video call and circled the next day’s date on the kitchen calendar. That was the final confirmed date for my extraction. I looked at Maisie sleeping peacefully in my arms and kissed her forehead. “Just a little longer, baby.” The fifth day. The blizzard had passed, but the temperature had plunged even lower. Early in the morning, the front door was kicked open. Gary supported Sherry, who walked in, looking rosy-cheeked and wearing the down parka he’d obviously taken from my closet. She pinched her nose. “Gary, what is that smell? It’s awful in here.” Gary gave a weak, appeasing laugh. “That’ll be my wife, the sour-faced hag. She hasn’t bathed in days. I’ll make her scrub up later.” He looked at me, his face turning cold. “The heating pipe next door burst completely. It’s uninhabitable. Sherry will be staying here from now on. Clear out the master bedroom. Change the sheets, she likes things spotless.” He threw me a blanket. “Take Maisie to the utility closet. It has no windows, so it will hold heat better. You can stay there.” Sherry walked over to the sofa and picked up Maisie’s favorite bunny stuffed animal. “Oh, this is disgusting. So many germs.” With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the bunny straight into the cold, empty fireplace. “No!” I lunged forward, but Gary grabbed my arm. Flames quickly consumed the rabbit. Maisie cried and tried to fight past Gary to save it, but he kicked her legs out of the way. “Stop crying! It’s better this way! Out with the old, in with the new!” He looked at Sherry. “Sherry is doing this for your health, you ungrateful child. You might have gotten a bacterial infection.” I stared at the ashes in the hearth. I looked up at Gary. “You’re absolutely right. Out with the old, in with the new.” Gary frowned at my tone. “Why are you smiling? Go make dinner! Sherry is hungry. Get out the best food we have. I’m going to have a couple of drinks tonight.” I nodded. “Fine. I’ll get ready. I’ll make you both a feast tonight.” I went to the kitchen and gathered the last of the preserved meats, canned goods, and dry provisions. Into the bottle of expensive red wine, I crushed ten sleeping pills. Ground to a fine powder, and shaken well. At dinner, Gary’s cheeks were flushed. Under the table, one hand rested intimately on Sherry’s thigh. “See, Audra? This is perfect. You can handle the cooking and cleaning, and Sherry can handle my social engagements and business networking.” He grinned. “The three of us, happy and successful. How perfect is that?” Sherry leaned into his embrace and smiled a saccharine smile at me. “Thanks for doing all the hard work, older sister. I’ll make sure Gary takes good care of you.” I refilled their glasses. “Drink up. It’s cold outside. You need to keep warm.” I watched them drink glass after glass until they finally slumped, unconscious, over the table. The smile instantly dropped from my face. I dragged their limp bodies into the master bedroom and dumped them on the bed. I stripped them both naked and arranged their limbs into a compromising embrace. I took out my phone, snapped a dozen photos, and recorded a short video. Then, I began to move. I emptied the house of every staple: the last of the rice, the flour, the oil, the clothes, the blankets, the remaining medicine, the hand warmers. I went to the emergency generator shed. I unscrewed the spark plug and dropped it into the sewer drain. Without that single part, the generator would be inert. Finally, I strapped the unconscious Maisie to my chest, threw the two heavy hiking packs over my shoulders, and opened the front door. In the blizzard night, a heavily modified off-road vehicle waited at the curb. I settled Maisie into the back seat, then glanced back at the house. The light was still on in the master bedroom, where two bodies were asleep. I shut the car door. “Let’s go.” The tires ground against the packed snow and sped away. The next afternoon. Gary woke up, shivering violently. He groaned, reaching for the blanket, but his hand hit a cold, naked body. He opened his eyes, saw a nude Sherry beside him, and a flood of last night’s memories rushed in. He grinned weakly and called out, “Honey, turn the heat up. Why is it so damn cold?” No response. Silence. He crawled out of bed, finding only his own shirt covering his body. The bedding was gone. He stumbled out of the bedroom, yelling “Audra Price!” The sound echoed in the empty house. On the living room table was a single sheet of A4 paper, weighed down by the signed divorce papers. Pasted onto the paper was the picture of him and Sherry, naked and intertwined. Below the photo, written in stark red ink, were four words:

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390425”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My mother was the true heiress of the Hamilton family, but my grandparents and my father only ever had eyes for my aunt, the fake heiress. Today, Mother coughed up more than just phlegm. It was clots of deep, rusty red. I secretly called Dad, but he just scoffed: “Your grandparents and I are celebrating Victoria’s birthday. We don’t have time for your mother’s theatrics.” “Tell her to stop pretending to be sick—if she’s going to die, she should just get on with it.” The call ended with a cold click. I looked back, stunned, and found Mother standing right behind me. She was swaying, her face bone-white. That night, my mother never woke up again. Later, I stood in the stark, black-and-white silence of the funeral home, and Dad finally sauntered in. His eyes narrowed in shock. “What game is Caroline playing now?” I clung to the edge of the casket, my voice thick with sobs. “Daddy, Mommy turned into a star.” 1 That evening, Mother tucked me in as usual. But in the middle of the night, I woke up to a strange, heavy smell. I rushed to the kitchen. Oh, Mommy was so clumsy. She’d left the pill bottle scattered all over the floor. I got up on my little stool and started picking up the pills, just like I saw her do sometimes. Phew, good thing Maya was here to help. I tiptoed back to the bedroom, wanting a hug and a word of praise, but I tripped over something else scattered by the bed. I knew these pills. Mother took them when the coughing fits kept her up all night. I carefully picked up the tiny white capsules, one by one, and put them back in the bottle. Mommy finally got some sleep, so I shouldn’t wake her. Maya doesn’t have kindergarten tomorrow, so I have plenty of time to wait for her to wake up. I snuggled back beside her and played with my fingers. Her phone suddenly lit up. It was Dad! I snatched it up. His voice sounded slurred, a little drunk. “Caroline, I’m not coming home tonight, so don’t wait up for me.” Then Aunt Victoria’s voice cut in, sharp and sweet. “Oh, Gray, why explain? My sister is pathetic but dutiful. When we were at the Hamiltons’, she’d nod like a trained puppy to anything our parents said, let alone your request.” I didn’t like her one bit. She stole my grandparents, and now she always tried to steal Dad. I’d overheard the grown-ups before. Aunt Victoria was the fake Hamilton heiress—her parents were the ones who swapped Mother into a life of poverty. Mother wasn’t brought back until she was twelve. Everyone said Mother was obedient, but I knew she was just desperate for a family. That’s why she was so good to Dad; it wasn’t about the corporate marriage, it was about finally having a family of her own. I spoke into the phone screen. “Shhh, Daddy. Mommy’s sleeping. You have to whisper.” Dad must have had bad reception because he only got louder. “Your mother dares to ignore my call? Maya, put the phone to her ear!” I obediently held the phone against Mother’s cheek. A faint, mocking laugh came through the speaker. “Caroline Hamilton. I know you’re listening.” “You’ve gotten smarter, I’ll give you that. Trying to use the child as leverage to drag me home? A new low, even for you.” Victoria’s cooing voice followed: “Stop it, Sis. Using the kid to guilt-trip him isn’t a good look. Gray’s staying at my place tonight; just wanted to give you a heads-up.” Mother just lay still, silently sleeping. She didn’t answer them. Dad sounded frustrated by her lack of reaction and shouted even louder. I hung up the phone. Dad was too loud. Mother was tired and needed her rest. Feeling sleepy myself, I burrowed back into her arms. Mother felt cold, like ice. It was a good thing I was warm; I could hug her tight. The next morning, the front door burst open with a crash. I quickly tucked the blankets around Mother, then ran out to see. It was Dad. I habitually held my arms out. “Daddy, hug!” He looked down at me dismissively. “No shoes? Don’t you know you’ll catch a cold? Where’s your mother?” I pointed at the bedroom door. “Mommy’s sleeping!” Dad frowned and strode toward the room. 2 He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Caroline, it’s noon. Are you going to get up or not?” Mother was still lying on her side, only the dark, glossy back of her head visible. Dad gave a short, light laugh, trying to keep his temper. He spoke in her direction: “Caroline, are you jealous again?” I looked up. Dad had the faintest smirk on his face. He always seemed to enjoy seeing Mother miserable over him. “I told you, this was just a family merger. Don’t take it too personally.” “I’ll do what I want, and I’ll sleep with whomever I choose. You have absolutely no right to question me.” One second. Two seconds. The room remained silent. Mother didn’t cry tearfully, didn’t beg him to come back, as she usually did. Dad’s frown deepened. He took a few steps closer. “There’s a limit to your dramatics. I’m talking to you, didn’t you—” His phone rang, cutting him off. It was Aunt Victoria’s tearful voice: “Gray! I drank too much last night, and my head is killing me. Can you come stay with me? I’m scared to be alone…” Dad’s face instantly softened. He spoke to her in a soothing, gentle tone—the kind of tenderness he had never once shown Mother. The last time Dr. Wells came to see Mother, he said she was sick and gave her a whole drawer full of medicine. Mother hadn’t hidden the diagnosis from Dad, but what did he say then? It was something like: “Caroline, you think putting vitamins in a prescription bottle will fool me? Do you think I’m blind?” “And what about that doctor? Why is he so concerned about you? Answer me!” Mother’s face had been as pale then as it was now. After that, Dad often didn’t come home to sleep, and he always smelled of different perfumes. It was right after that when Mother’s health rapidly declined. Dad finished his call and rushed back out to the living room without even glancing at Mother again. I ran to him, grabbing his leg. “Daddy, don’t go! Can you stay with Mommy, please…” Mother loved Dad more than anything. Maybe if he stayed, she would wake up. A flicker of conflict crossed his eyes, but he quickly yanked his foot away without mercy. Before walking out the door, he pointed to a box on the counter. “Those are the Raspberry & White Chocolate Truffles she loves. I’ve extended an olive branch; she can deal with this herself.” With that, he hurried away. I stared blankly at the box, my stomach rumbling. I opened the truffles Dad left and ate two of them quickly. Mother once told me that if you eat fast enough, the tears won’t fall. “Mommy, can you wake up, please? Maya is getting scared now…” I held a truffle up to her mouth. The powdered sugar dusted her lips, making them look even paler. But she didn’t wake up, not even by evening. The truffles were gone, and I was still hungry. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I thought it was Dad, so I rushed to open it. “Delivery. Your anniversary cake is here!” It wasn’t Dad. By the time I dragged a stool over and opened the door, the delivery man was gone, leaving only a small, elegant raspberry cake. I remembered! Mother had ordered it a few days ago. It was to celebrate her and Dad’s three-year wedding anniversary! Last week, Dad slept at home, and I lay between them, listening to them talk calmly for a rare moment. Mother had been so happy when she woke up that day. She ordered the cake and smiled, whispering to me, “Maya, he’s starting to treat me well. I might actually have a family… I have to try hard to live.” Mother had even started taking her medicine, and she coughed up less of the red stuff. But now, she was sleeping and wouldn’t talk to me. I lowered my head and rubbed my eyes. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have called Dad. I shouldn’t have let Mother hear that terrible conversation. It was all my fault. 3 Mommy must be angry with me, that’s why she’s sleeping so long. I opened the cake. “Mommy, open up. Maya will feed you.” Cream dribbled onto her face. I hastily reached out to wipe it off. But it was so strange. When I used to kiss Mother’s cheek, it was soft. Now, it was stiff. A sudden, unfamiliar panic flared in my chest. Trembling, I picked up the phone and called my grandparents. “Grandma and Grandpa, can you come see Mommy?” When Mother was hurting, she needed her own mommy and daddy to comfort her, right? Grandpa let out a heavy sigh, his voice stern. “Caroline Hamilton, what fit are you throwing now?” Grandma grabbed the phone. “Hello, sweet Maya. Tell your mother to stop this nonsense and pick up the phone.” I burst into tears. “Mommy has been sleeping for so long! Can you, can you come see her, please?” Silence hung on the line for a long moment. Finally, Grandpa’s voice returned. “Caroline Hamilton, I know you’re listening!” “I just spoke to Grayson. He says you’ve now resorted to using the child to gain attention!” “When will this stop? You always tried to steal Victoria’s things growing up, and now you have Gray. What more do we, the Hamiltons, owe you?” I cried uncontrollably. Mother never stole anything! She was the real heir; Aunt Victoria stole her parents… I wanted to call back, but the phone screen wouldn’t turn on. I ate the whole cake. The sun rose again, and finally, there was a knock on the door. It was Aunt Victoria, with Grandma and Grandpa. “Caroline Hamilton, open the door! No calls, no texts. Don’t think getting into the Sterling family makes you immune to us!” Grandpa was rapping urgently on the wood. In my memory, he was just like Dad—always impatient with Mother, but so kind to Aunt Victoria. Yet, Mother was his own flesh and blood. I opened the door. Aunt Victoria squeezed in first. “Ugh. Gray’s been gone for two days and the house is already a mess?” I kicked her leg. “Go away, bad woman! Mommy doesn’t want to see you!” Grandpa grabbed me, lifted me up, and tossed me aside. Aunt Victoria covered her nose and cautiously approached the bedroom. The moment she saw Mother, a short gasp sliced through the room. She bent down and, with a trembling finger, checked Mother’s breathing. Then, she pulled her mouth into an unbelievable, silent smirk. “Idiot.” I threw myself in front of Mother, shielding her. Grandpa heard the noise. He saw Mother on the bed and frowned deeply. “Caroline, your parents are here, and you’re still in bed? And the house stinks. You haven’t even taken out the trash. It’s unacceptable!” He started walking in. Aunt Victoria blocked him. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Dad, Sister isn’t feeling well. Let’s not disturb her rest.” Grandpa huffed but didn’t press forward. “Caroline Hamilton, you’re looking for trouble. If only you were half as sensible as Victoria!” Grandma tried to step closer to see Mother, but Aunt Victoria quickly stopped her. “Mom, don’t go in. The room might have a virus. Let Sister sleep.” Grandma looked at the back of Mother’s head and sighed. “Oh, this child. Her temper gets worse every year. Why is she deliberately trying to upset us?” Aunt Victoria chuckled nervously. She even called Dad. “Hello, Gray? Yes, I brought Mom and Dad. We checked—she’s fine. Just napping.” “The kid? She’s fine too. Don’t worry. I’ll swing by now and then to check on them.” She shot a spiteful look at me and walked out with my grandparents. I chased after them, crying out: “Grandma, Grandpa, don’t leave! Mommy hasn’t woken up yet!” As the elevator doors began to close, I grabbed the corner of Grandma’s coat. “Grandma, you’re Mother’s real mother, her family! Can’t you just look at her one time, please?” At that, her fingers twitched, and she paused. 4 But in the end, her hesitation lasted only a moment, and then she was gone. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. I didn’t understand why everyone always listened to Aunt Victoria. My grandparents would transfer Mother’s rightful shares to her because of one word from Victoria. Dad would leave Mother and me alone at a restaurant countless times because of one word from Victoria. What I hated most was that she always came just to argue with Mother. Mother would accuse her of being an interloper. Aunt Victoria would sneer that Mother was simply unlucky—that her birth parents didn’t love her, and her husband was just her leftovers. After every fight, Mother was sad for a long time. I remember wiping away her tears once and asking, in my innocent way, “Mommy, why don’t you go find your mommy?” In a child’s world, when you’re bullied, you go to your mother. Mother froze. The mist in her eyes grew thicker. I sat in her lap, dangling my feet. “Grandma and Grandpa are your mommy and daddy. Why do they like that bad aunt better?” Mother was silent for a very long time. Finally, she said, “Because, Maya, they are already her family.” But it was okay. I was Mother’s family! I sniffled and crawled back into bed beside Mother to sing her a lullaby. The night before last, she had sung to me. And through my sleepy haze, I heard her whisper, choked with tears: “Maya, no one loves Mommy. I truly… I don’t think I can keep going.” “I’m in so much pain, darling. That medicine isn’t vitamins—it’s real medicine. But your father won’t believe me.” “I’m scared to leave you alone in this world, Maya. Please don’t hate me…” I had been too sleepy then. But I wanted to tell her: How could Maya ever hate you? Maya will love you forever! That night, I finished the last of the cake and curled up in Mother’s embrace. She smelled heavy, a sweet, sickly scent, like flowers left too long in water. It must be my fault for not bathing. Mother should always smell fresh. The next morning, I woke up hungry again. Mother hadn’t eaten anything, so she must be even hungrier. Just as I was thinking about how to get food, the doorbell rang. I ran to open it. “Is that you, Daddy!” It was the maintenance man. Our neighbor, a tired woman, stood behind him, clutching her nose. “It’s this apartment! Since the middle of the night, there’s been this putrid, heavy smell. I nearly threw up!” The maintenance man saw me and knelt down. “Little one, where is your mother?” I told him Mother had been sleeping for a few days. A look of shock crossed his face. He quickly walked into the bedroom and nearly gagged. “Oh my god. Little one, where is your father?” I shook my head. “Daddy isn’t home.” The maintenance man picked up Mother’s phone, plugged it in, and called Dad. It rang a few times, unanswered. He slid his trembling finger to the emergency contacts and called my grandparents. Still no answer. The man cursed under his breath. “What kind of animals are they! Little one, does your mother have any other friends?” I thought for a moment and told him about Dr. Wells, the kind doctor who was very close to Mother. The call connected in seconds. Dr. Wells arrived quickly. He was almost shaking as he covered Mother with a white sheet. I held Mother’s hand underneath. His tears fell on my face, hotter than any tears Mother ever shed. After that, Mother was taken away in a car. I don’t know if I cried myself unconscious or fainted from hunger. When I next opened my eyes, I was in a hospital. My first reaction was to scream: “Where is Mommy? I want Mommy!” Dr. Wells’ eyes were painfully red. He took me to the black-and-white funeral home. Soon, Dad arrived. My grandparents and that awful Aunt Victoria came, too. Seeing the scene, Dad’s steps faltered, but he forced a defiant posture. “Ha. How fascinating. Caroline Hamilton, setting up this grim, theatrical spectacle just to get me to come home—it’s truly magnificent…” Seeing me, he demanded, “What game is your mother playing now!” I choked out my words. “Daddy, Mommy turned into a star.” He wouldn’t believe it. But then he was led inside and saw Mother. In that instant, all the color drained from his face.

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I was binge-watching a show with Landon when the news about Anya Wells’s return hit. Our college alumni group chat wouldn’t stop buzzing. I glanced over at Landon, nudging his arm with a smile. “No reaction from you?” He pinched my nose playfully, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “What do you want me to do, break out the bubbly? Go easy on the drama, Sweetheart.” I supposed he was right. They had broken up six years ago, and besides, Anya was married with a child. It was ancient history. I walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. When I came back, Landon was staring blankly at his phone. My gaze instinctively dropped to my own screen. A new message had just appeared in the group: [Heard the news? Anya got divorced.] A cold, heavy stone dropped in my stomach. 1 “Landon, Landon!” The last call was laced with a tiny, involuntary whine. He snapped out of his trance and spread his arms, assuming I wanted a hug. I set the water glass down sharply on the coffee table. I didn’t move, just stood there, staring directly at him. The intensity in my eyes made him visibly uneasy. “What is it, Sweetheart?” he asked, his voice tight. “What were you thinking about just now?” Landon blinked, feigning innocence. “I was just thinking about what we should grab for brunch tomorrow.” Liar. I thought. You were thinking about Anya. I had been in love with Landon Pierce for twelve years. Every expression, every subtle shift in his gaze, was a language I was fluent in. That vacant stare—he used to have it all the time in high school when he was hopelessly pursuing Anya. A decade had passed, and he still couldn’t hide a thing. He still came undone the second her name entered the atmosphere. A dull, painful ache settled in my chest. I sulked all evening, and Landon spent the entire time trying to placate me. The phrase he repeated most often was: “She and I are a closed chapter.” But their love had been a raging inferno. Even six years later, I still had occasional nightmares about Anya walking back into his life and Landon telling me he was done. The next day, I slept until noon. He patted my backside gently and chuckled. “Time to get up, Sweetheart. The sun is practically begging you.” I rolled over, ignoring him. He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “I made your favorite—homemade French toast with all the fixings.” I had smelled the cinnamon and vanilla already. There was no sense in punishing my stomach for his sins. Landon carried me to the dining table and loaded my plate. Just as I was deciding to forgive the previous night’s lapse, his phone rang. He took the call, speaking briefly, then looked at me. “Nova, the class president is organizing a high school reunion on Saturday. Want to go?” A high school reunion. That meant Anya would be there. Before I could even hesitate, Landon had politely declined. I looked at him in surprise. He stroked my head, his eyes sparkling with a familiar, genuine tenderness. “I just remembered that Saturday is our five-year anniversary. We can’t let strangers crash our day.” My eyes pricked with tears. I almost cried, ashamed of my own vulnerability. I decided right then to reluctantly forgive his late-night staring. Over the next few days, I threw myself into planning the perfect five-year anniversary. I wrote a long, detailed list of activities. Landon looked surprised. “Sweetheart, can we possibly get all this done in one day?” But he quickly softened, giving me that indulgent smile. “Anything my Nova wants, I’m in.” But early that morning, Landon was called away by the hospital. He was one of the most gifted pediatric cardiologists at St. Jude’s Medical Center. A particularly complex case required his immediate attention. He told me to go ahead to the restaurant for lunch, promising to be there exactly on time. I waited until 1:30 PM, but he never showed. The server apologized, explaining that the lunch service was over. I left the restaurant and saw that a heavy rain had started to fall. The drops quickly soaked the bottom of my jeans. I pressed a hand to my lower abdomen, feeling a dull, persistent ache. It was probably just my period coming, but the chill instantly made the pain worse. My hand was trembling as I called Landon’s number. A woman answered. “Hello?” “I’m sorry, Dr. Pierce is busy right now. Can I take a message?” The sound of that voice sent a chilling current through me. It was Anya. “Hello? Are you still there?” she asked when I didn’t respond. A few seconds of silence passed, then she sounded surprised. “Nova? Is that Nova?” “It is.” Anya laughed lightly. “I saw the contact name was ‘Sweetheart’ and guessed it might be you.” She quickly realized her blunder and rushed to explain. “Oh, don’t misunderstand. Landon is my daughter’s doctor. I brought her in for a consultation.” I managed a soft “Mhm.” A second later, the voice changed. “Sweetheart?” Landon’s voice was anxious and tight. “I’m so sorry, work got crazy. I totally missed the time. I’ll be tied up here for a while longer. How about you just come to the hospital?” I arrived at St. Jude’s. Through the glass panel of the patient room, I saw Landon sitting by the bed, playfully engaging the child. Landon was handsome and warm, and every child in the pediatric wing adored him, often calling him “Big Brother Landon.” I moved closer and realized Anya was there, too, sitting opposite him. They were each holding one of the child’s hands. The scene was perfectly idyllic, a portrait of a happy family. If Anya hadn’t so abruptly broken up with Landon six years ago, this is exactly what their life might have looked like. My chest felt inflated, making it hard to breathe. When I pushed the door open, Landon’s expression froze. He subtly, instinctively, released the child’s hand. The little girl on the bed suddenly grabbed his hand again and asked in a sweet, soft voice, “Uncle Landon, can you be my daddy?” Landon’s face went rigid. Anya quickly stuffed a small piece of bread into her daughter’s mouth and looked at me. “She’s just a child talking nonsense. Please don’t take it to heart.” I managed a strained smile. Impossible not to take it to heart. But I wasn’t going to have a petty argument with a four-year-old. The “special case” Landon had mentioned was Anya’s daughter, Phoebe. The child had a congenital heart defect, and her ex-husband had divorced her because of it. Anya had returned to the States, traveling from clinic to clinic. She only chose St. Jude’s because she heard Landon’s team was leading in this field. It was all a pure, cruel coincidence, yet utterly impossible to ignore. Landon then spent the afternoon running around with Anya, taking Phoebe through a battery of tests. Time flashed by, and it was six o’clock. None of the romantic plans on my anniversary checklist had been fulfilled. I walked up to Landon and gently tugged the sleeve of his white coat. “Landon, we’re out of time…” He was buried in a stack of files, not looking up. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but Phoebe has a few more tests…” I pursed my lips, annoyed. “You promised to spend the day with me. You took the day off. Your colleagues can handle this…” “Nova, can you just be reasonable for once!” Landon’s voice suddenly rose. I froze. My hands and feet instantly turned to ice. In our five years together, he had never raised his voice to me. He realized his overreaction, and an apology flashed in his eyes, but he still pressed on. “Phoebe’s case is highly unusual. There have only been a few successful procedures in the country. How can I just hand it off to anyone?” “This is a life, Nova. Stop being so melodramatic.” A massive wave of wounded pride washed over me. My throat tightened as if it were stuffed with cotton. My voice came out scratchy and weak. “I’m not asking you to hand it off! I just think a nurse could supervise these routine tests. You don’t need to be here for every second…” “Nova’s right, Landon. You’ve done too much.” Anya walked into the office just then, looking at both of us. “Hospital beds are tight as it is, and I’m already so grateful you cleared one for us. I can handle the rest on my own.” “I heard today is your five-year anniversary? Congratulations. I hope I get to toast you at the wedding soon.” Landon’s brow furrowed slightly when Anya mentioned the wedding. Anya closed the door as she left. Silence descended on the office. After a long moment, Landon sighed, took off his white coat, and walked toward the door. When I didn’t move, he looked exasperated. “Fine. I’ll go with you. Let’s go.” “Forget it.” I spun to leave, wounded emotion swelling in my chest. Landon grabbed my arm, pulling me back. He tried to sound endearing. “I messed up, Sweetheart. I really did.” He was the man I’d loved for twelve years. He knew exactly how to disarm me. Landon took me to a movie. While we waited for the showing, he was constantly on his phone, texting. I glanced at the screen and saw him instructing a nurse to keep an extra close eye on Phoebe. My heart wrenched. I told myself to stop overthinking it—he was a dedicated doctor, this was just his professional courtesy. Halfway through the film, his phone rang, its chime piercing the dark theater. I looked at him, astonished. Landon always silenced his phone in theaters. What was wrong with him tonight? He covered the phone with his hand and bent over, walking to the back of the aisle. I hesitated, then followed. As soon as he answered, Landon’s voice softened into a gentle coo. “Phoebe, what’s wrong? Tummy ache? Did you eat something bad? Can you ask your mommy to bring a doctor to you?” “I’ll be back at the hospital tomorrow. Be a good girl and listen to your mommy. I’ll bring you a little present, okay?” Landon had always loved children; it’s why he was a pediatrician. We’d spent many nights curled up on the couch, daydreaming about the future. “I want a daughter, Sweetheart. Give me a daughter. One as cute as you.” Landon had proposed to me a month ago. Our families had agreed to set the engagement date right after the New Year. If things went smoothly, we might have our own child by next year. Landon, please, I pleaded silently. Don’t do this to me. Don’t shatter our beautiful future. In the following weeks, Landon started keeping crazy hours. He’d leave in the morning before I woke up and come home after I was already asleep. We were living in the same apartment but saw each other only once every few days. He explained that Phoebe’s surgery was highly complex and needed to be done as soon as possible. I felt genuine sympathy for the little girl—only four, facing such a high-risk operation. Knowing she loved dolls, I grabbed a new prototype from my toy design company—a doll capable of simple conversation—to give to her. I reached the door of Phoebe’s room. It was slightly ajar. Anya was sitting by the bed, stroking her daughter’s head. “Phoebe, do you like Uncle Landon?” “Yes!” the little girl chirped. Anya smiled, a thoughtful, calculating look in her eyes. She hesitated, then asked, “Do you want him to be your daddy?” “Yes!” Phoebe’s head bobbed like a cork. “Then you need to be very good and make sure Uncle Landon likes you a lot. Maybe then he could be your daddy…” “What are you telling that child!” I was inside the room before I realized I’d moved. My chest was heaving with fury. Phoebe looked up at me, startled, and burst into tears. Anya immediately pulled the child into a hug, rocking her. Landon walked in from the hallway, looking confused. “What’s going on?” Anya clung to Phoebe, her eyes red, and rushed to apologize to me. “Nova, I’m so sorry. I know you’re upset that Landon has been spending all his time here, but you can’t just yell like that, you’ll scare Phoebe. You know her heart is fragile…” Landon turned to me, instinctively stepping in front of Anya. His eyes were dark, his tone low. “Nova, why did you yell at Phoebe?” I rushed to explain. “I didn’t! Anya was saying things to her. She’s putting bad ideas in her head…” Anya’s tears finally spilled over. “It’s all my fault!” she choked out. “I only wanted to make Phoebe happy!” Landon looked at me, disappointment etched onto his face. “Nova, I told you I’m only helping Anya and Phoebe out of simple friendship and professional courtesy. Why do you have to keep making a scene?” “Do you know what you look like right now?” “You look like a walking stereotype of the jealous girlfriend!” His eyes were turning cold. In all our years, Landon had never spoken a harsh word to me. He had always looked at me with tenderness and a smile. It had only been a few days, and he was already a different person. I bit down hard on my lip. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. The bag containing the doll slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. I turned and fled. I ran a few steps down the hallway when a sudden, excruciating cramp made me collapse onto the ground. My face was ashen. A passing nurse was startled and rushed me to a quiet room. After asking a few questions, her expression turned peculiar. “You should go see the OB/GYN.” I was completely numb when the doctor told me I was seven weeks pregnant. No wonder I had been having cramps and my period was late. A month ago, my first reaction would have been pure joy. Landon loved children; he would have been thrilled. But remembering the way he had just spoken to me, my heart felt like a frozen block. That evening, Landon, for once, came home relatively early. He looked exhausted, but he knelt in front of me and apologized for his outburst earlier. “Sweetheart, you can’t think that way. I have absolutely zero feelings for her anymore. I just want to heal Phoebe.” My heart softened a little. I placed my hand on my stomach, ready to tell him the news. Then, his phone rang again. “Phoebe suddenly has a bad stomach bug. I have to go back to the hospital!” I almost laughed. Landon was responsible for all his patients, but he’d never been this frantic for any child. Only a fool would believe there was no underlying emotional connection. After Landon left, I did something I hadn’t done in six years. I opened the social media app where I used to, stalker-like, check his and Anya’s old joint account. It used to chronicle their relationship, reaching eighty thousand followers at its peak. Six years of silence had dropped the follower count to twenty thousand. And yet, just one minute ago, a brand-new post had appeared on the long-dormant page. [Thank you for running towards me a thousand times.] The accompanying picture showed three hands laid together—two adult hands, one small child’s hand. I recognized the man’s hand immediately as Landon’s. That hand—the one that carefully trimmed my nails. The one that patiently blow-dried my hair. The one that meticulously picked the bones out of my fish. It was now on Anya’s public page. The sudden post stunned their old followers. Comments slowly started trickling in. [OMG. My ancient OTP is resurrected?!] [Resurrected? They have a child already!] [Whaaaaat! So she didn’t break up, she just went off-grid! Thanks for the good news, sis, I believe in love again!] Tears blurred my vision. I took a screenshot and sent it to Landon. I wanted to hear how he planned to explain this. His reply finally came back after midnight. [Sweetheart, you’re overthinking it. Anya said Phoebe wanted me to be her dad, and it helps her mood to pretend. A positive mood helps with her treatment, so I cooperated. Don’t worry about it.] I scoffed. If it was just a pretend moment, why take a picture and post it on a public social account? We were supposed to go home this week to discuss the engagement with our parents. Landon hadn’t mentioned it once, acting as if the plans never existed. I should have seen it coming. The moment he stared blankly at his phone after hearing Anya was divorced, everything had already spun off the rails. The next day. Landon was playing a quiet game with Anya and Phoebe. The little girl took both their hands and placed them on top of each other, giggling. “Mommy, I’m going to have a daddy now!” Anya blushed, looking at Landon. A sudden impulse made her speak. “Landon, maybe we should…” Landon interrupted her. “I just remembered I need to check on another patient. I have to go.” Anya bit her lip, disappointed. Just as Landon walked out of the room, he ran into a nurse who looked surprised. “Dr. Pierce, what are you doing here?” Landon was perplexed. “Where else would I be?” “I just saw your wife in the OB/GYN ward. She was preparing for a D&C. Aren’t you going to stay with her?” Landon’s body went instantly rigid, his face turning spectral white.

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My mother, Deborah, always preferred for me to run her errands, especially when it came to buying expensive items. She would inevitably claim her eyesight was bad and that she’d missed a digit when transferring the money. For years, I didn’t make a fuss. I simply covered the difference myself, silently transferring my own funds to complete the purchase. Until my sister, Cassidy, decided to air her grievances in front of me with that patented, sickly-sweet snark. “Mom always sends you the money for those big-ticket items she needs,” Cass said, not quite looking at me. “Funny how we never see the actual price of the goods. I wonder how much of a margin you’re skimming off the top, Audra.” Mom just smiled, a small, knowing little twist of the lips, and didn’t bother to deny it. She seemed to be endorsing Cass’s accusation. A deep, chilling resentment settled in my gut. Over the years, the difference I’d silently covered—the “mistake” she’d later dismiss with a light, airy, “Oops, my eyes are so bad, I hit the wrong button”—had easily totaled over forty thousand dollars. Now, I was being labeled a thief for my own sacrifice. So, when Mom texted me again, asking me to book the annual New Year’s Eve feast, which she specified should cost four thousand dollars, I didn’t hesitate. I accepted the transfer. Then, I booked a dinner for four hundred dollars. … The table was set, but no one was touching the food. A dozen faces, all wearing varying shades of confusion, stared at the pathetic spread before them. “Don’t just sit there, everyone,” I said, attempting a cheerful, if strained, tone. “Dig in.” Mom’s face was a study in controlled rage, the kind that promised a torrential downpour later. She couldn’t explode in front of the whole family, not yet. “Audra, are you sure they’ve brought out all the courses?” she asked, her voice tight. “Go find the server and hurry them along.” “This is it,” I replied, my voice perfectly level. I gestured to the table again. “Seriously, before it all gets cold.” Clack. Mom slammed her fork down. Her chest heaved. “We have thirteen people here! This is all you ordered?” My Aunt Carol chimed in from the side. “Sweetheart, is there a mistake? We’re used to a different standard, you know.” In previous years, the table would be drowning in food: King Crab, premium Surf-and-Turf, endless shrimp. This year? Six dishes, making the large table look utterly barren. The only thing remotely “seafood” was a pathetic little plate of popcorn shrimp. No wonder they were surprised. “No mistake, Aunt Carol,” I said, shaking my head. Mom’s eyes were red with fury. “I gave you the money to arrange this feast! And this is what you’re serving the family?” I glanced at the minimal dishes, letting out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, but our funds were limited. This is all I could manage.” Cassidy slammed her hand on the table, standing up so abruptly her chair scraped back. She pointed a finger right at me. “Don’t play coy! Mom transferred you four thousand dollars for this dinner. This pathetic spread doesn’t even top five hundred! Did you pocket the rest, Audra?” “I know you love to help Mom with her shopping so she has an excuse to send you money, but this is a new low. It’s the holiday feast! You’ve gone too far!” The immediate change in my relatives’ eyes was palpable. The suspicion turned to outright disdain. Mom layered it on. “Audra, I usually don’t comment on your little habits, but tonight? On New Year’s Eve, with the whole family here? This is completely inappropriate.” My Uncle Gary’s son, Little Ben, started to wail. “Daddy! I want King Crab! You said we were having King Crab!” Aunt Carol, trying to look virtuous, shook her head at me. “Audra, I always thought you were a good girl. How could you pull a stunt like this?” The accusations started to fly from all sides. Mom saw her opening. “Enough! Go find the server right now and order the rest of the dishes. We’ll just forget this ever happened.” The relatives immediately played peacemaker, urging me to quickly order the usual upscale meal. But I stood my ground, my voice dropping to an icy tone. “I can’t add anything.” “Why not?” Mom snapped, unable to keep her voice down any longer. I turned my full attention to her. “Mom, did you forget?” “You only transferred me four hundred dollars. I used up every cent on these dishes. I even chipped in a few dollars of my own.” A flash of panic crossed Mom’s face, clearly unprepared for me to call her out so directly. But she masked it instantly. She cleared her throat, signaling me urgently with her eyes. “What nonsense are you talking about? I distinctly sent you four thousand.” Cassidy sneered at me. “You’re still lying? I was right there when Mom called you! She said four thousand! Trying to flip a four thousand dollar dinner into a four hundred dollar one to cover your tracks? That’s not how skimming works, Audra.” With Cass as her witness, the relatives’ contempt for me solidified. Uncle Gary glowered. “Audra, exploiting your own mother for cash? Do you have any conscience?” Seeing their disbelief, I reached for my phone. “See for yourselves. The transfer from Mom was exactly four hundred.” Mom had said four thousand on the phone. But the notification showed four hundred. It was her go-to strategy. If I didn’t mention it, she’d pretend ignorance. If I did, it would be the “bad eyesight” excuse, followed immediately by an emotional attack: “It was just a few hundred dollars! Do you have to remind me? I raised you! You can’t spare a dime for your own mother? You are nothing like your sister. You’re an absolute viper!” Aunt Carol, sitting closest, leaned over to look. She raised an eyebrow. “Debra, honey, it does say four hundred.” Mom’s veneer of control cracked. She let out a strained, nervous laugh. “Well, I’m getting older. My eyes are failing. I must have missed a zero.” She shot me a glare. “Why didn’t you tell me right away that I’d made a mistake?” She begrudgingly sent the rest of the money, her voice stiff with annoyance. “Fine. The money’s there. Now, hurry up and order the dinner we agreed on, before you ruin the evening for everyone.” Before I could respond, Cassidy cut in. “Mom, why are you giving her the money?” She looked at me with a cold laugh. “You’ve probably made tens of thousands off Mom over the years!” “She accidentally missed one zero one time. Can’t you just cover the damn difference yourself?” Cass shouted. “Did you deliberately pull this stunt just to humiliate Mom in front of the whole family because you couldn’t make a profit this time?” Mom gave Cass a faux-scolding look. “Cassidy, stop talking nonsense in front of the relatives.” She was clearly pretending to chastise her, but the subtext—yes, Audra is skimming money—was loud and clear. My hand froze over my phone. Then, I tapped Refund. My voice was flat. “Since you all seem to believe I’m here to make a profit, I’m returning the money. Order the meal yourselves. That way, no one can accuse me of skimming.” Mom’s expression went rigid. She knew. The “usual standard” meant a tab easily over ten thousand dollars. Mom was utterly obsessed with maintaining an image in front of the family. Since her marriage was unhappy, she compensated by hosting this yearly feast, a performance to prove her life was perfect and she was financially flush. Before, I was the one silently subsidizing her pride. But I was done. Cassidy rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Oh, now you’re going to play the saint? If you’re refunding this money, you need to refund all of it. Everything you’ve pocketed from Mom over the years!” “We have the whole family here,” she announced dramatically. “Let’s settle the books right now. How much have you actually stolen?” Mom’s face paled. She quickly grabbed Cass’s arm. “What are you doing? It’s the holiday! We can talk about this later, at home.” “No! I’m talking about it now!” Cass ripped her arm free. Her eyes were blazing with resentment. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You use the shopping excuse to secretly slip Audra cash and subsidize her life!” “We’re both your daughters! How can you be so blatantly unfair?” she screamed. “We have to figure out right now, in front of everyone, how much you’ve given her. And you need to transfer the exact same amount to me!” Seeing the venomous look on my sister’s face, I finally understood. This was never about Mom’s honor. It was about Cass’s perceived shortage. She thought Mom was secretly favoring me, and she was throwing a public tantrum to get her equal share of the “compensation.” Uncle Gary immediately backed Cass. “Debra, you always claim to treat your girls equally. How can you play favorites with Audra?” “Cassidy, your Uncle Gary supports you! You have to fight for what’s yours!” The other relatives eagerly took Cass’s side, though I knew they were really just enjoying the spectacle. Mom’s complexion went from pale to ashen. She forced a weak smile. “Stop encouraging the children! You all know I treat my daughters the same,” she stammered. “I’ll just go order the dinner…” She tried to stand up. Cassidy threw her arms out, blocking her path. “Mom, are you running away because you’re guilty?” Mom let out a nervous chuckle. “My phone broke the other day. I lost all my texts. I couldn’t settle the account even if I wanted to!” “How about this? I’ll send you twenty thousand…” My sister cut her off with a cold laugh. “You think twenty thousand dollars is enough to shut me up? You’ve subsidized Audra way more than that over the years!” “Besides, it’s not about the money! It’s about fairness!” Her words rang out with manufactured conviction, and Aunt Bethany, the social media junkie, was the first to clap. “Well done, Cass!” “You need to speak up when you’re wronged! We’ve got your back.” Aunt Bethany’s face was alight with excitement. She raised her phone and pointed it right at our table. She was a micro-vlogger with a few thousand followers. I immediately understood her plan. I quickly pulled up her channel on my spare phone. Sure enough, she was live, though only a handful of people were watching. Dissatisfied with the viewer count, Aunt Bethany started speaking louder, hyping up the crowd and encouraging the other relatives to egg on the confrontation. Seeing the family on her side, Cassidy stood taller, her confidence soaring. “You always talk about treating us equally, but you’ve been blatantly favoring Audra behind my back. Do you think I’m stupid?” she yelled. “Today, I’m getting justice!” Mom looked at me, her eyes pleading for help. She wanted me to intervene. I sighed internally. Despite my anger at her behavior, this was our private family mess. I could handle the relatives knowing. But with Aunt Bethany live-streaming, the nature of the crisis had changed. The voyeuristic excitement generated by the relatives was already drawing in more viewers. I didn’t want our family breakdown to be Aunt Bethany’s viral clickbait, or to have a mob of strangers weigh in on our dysfunction. I interrupted Cass. “Let’s just take this home. We need to eat.” I gave her a meaningful look, but Cass clearly didn’t get it. She sneered. “The beneficiary has no right to speak here! I’m the one being treated unfairly. Am I wrong to demand an explanation?” “If we go home, you and Mom will never admit to the favoritism. This has to be settled now!” Cass was relentless, and Mom’s face grew darker. Then, a sudden calm descended over Mom’s features. She looked up at me. “Audra, you’re right. Using the shopping excuse to secretly subsidize you was unfair to Cassidy.” I froze. I was about to demand when she had ever subsidized me, when she continued: “All the text records are gone, and years of small transactions are impossible to calculate.” “But I’d estimate that the total is around two hundred thousand dollars.” “How about this: you transfer Cassidy one hundred thousand dollars, and we can all move past this.” She turned to Cass, ignoring my stunned silence. Cassidy hesitated for a moment, then gave a reluctant nod. “Fine, I guess that works.” So, her objection to the twenty thousand dollar offer was just that the number was too low. Mom looked back at me, silently urging me to make the transfer. To save face, she was forcing me to admit to a non-existent crime and then forcing me to pay my sister for it. I couldn’t help but laugh, a sharp, bitter sound. Cassidy rolled her eyes at me. “What are you waiting for? Transfer the money.” I locked eyes with Mom. “You say I skimmed over two hundred thousand dollars over the years. Show me the proof.” Mom looked away. “I told you, all the texts are gone. How could I possibly show you?” She leaned in and whispered to me. “Just transfer the money to Cass. It’s a holiday. You’re making a scene. We’ll get the money back from her when we get home.” She assumed I would fall back into my role—the quiet, accommodating daughter—just like I had when she’d made the “wrong” transfer amount. But this time, I was completely resolute. I wouldn’t concede. If I did, the relatives and the growing audience online would forever believe I was a thief who exploited my own mother. I’d be labeled a thief and I’d lose ten thousand dollars for real. I raised an eyebrow. “No proof? Then on what basis are you saying I skimmed anything?” The viewers on the live stream were confused. Aunt Bethany quickly typed out a summary, explaining the situation. As expected, the comments immediately started piling on, assuming I was the selfish daughter who stole from her mother. Cassidy pounded the table. “Mom just admitted it! And you’re still denying it?” “You’re just counting on the fact that Mom lost her texts, so you don’t have to admit anything, are you?” The relatives joined in, urging me to just pay up. “Audra, you’re sisters. Don’t ruin the family over a little money.” I said, simply and coldly, “I didn’t do it. I won’t transfer the money.” Cassidy’s eyes welled up instantly. The next second, a stinging slap landed across my cheek. My face was instantly numb. Mom pointed at me, feigning righteous indignation. “You are so selfish! Your sister is willing to overlook the specific amount and accept just one hundred thousand to settle this, and you value money more than your own family!” My heart turned to stone. “Fine,” I said, rubbing my throbbing cheek. “Cassidy wants to calculate the profit I made off you? Let’s calculate. If I actually made a profit, I will transfer every cent of it back.” Cassidy scoffed. “Easy to say when there are no records. How are we supposed to audit the transactions?” I held up my shattered phone. “Don’t worry. Mom’s records might be gone, but mine aren’t.” At that, Mom’s face went white. Before I could open my text messages, Mom lunged, snatching the phone from my hand and slamming it against the floor with all her strength. “I didn’t want to show the transfers because I didn’t want my daughters fighting over money!” she said, her voice shaking with fake nobility. “You’ve clearly benefited more than your sister, yet you’re still too greedy to share even a fraction of your gain. You disappoint me deeply!” If I didn’t know the truth, I might have been fooled by her masterful performance. I picked up the phone. The screen was spider-webbed, the phone totally dead. Mom subtly let out a sigh of relief. She thought she had won. Without the phone, there could be no audit. Calmly, I reached into my bag and pulled out a thick stack of printed papers. When Mom saw what they were, her face completely changed.

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I cut my six-month business trip short just before Valentine’s Day. I’d planned to stop by the boutique watch store to commission a custom piece for my husband, Gray. The sales associate, a charming young woman, gave me a playful, knowing look. “Ms. Sherry, you and Mr. Marcus truly are telepathic. He was just here yesterday, picking up a matched set—a couple’s style—as a holiday gift.” I froze, the air seizing in my lungs. A sudden, sharp memory surfaced: Tiffany Brooks, Gray’s relentlessly chipper assistant, had posted a picture of the exact same watch on her social media just last night. Her caption was a smug, little dagger: [He said my time belongs to him now~] I immediately dialed Gray’s number, but a woman’s voice, thick with sleep and annoyance, answered instead. “Hello? Who is this? Calling in the middle of the night? The boss just finished up and is in the shower. Call back tomorrow.” A cold laugh escaped me. “Who am I? I’m the person who signs your boss’s paychecks.” My voice dropped to an executive chill. “Tell him he and you are both fired. Neither of you needs to show up at the office tomorrow.” 1 I hung up instantly. I turned to my secretary, who had been hovering discreetly behind me. “Alert front-desk security. Effective immediately, Graham Marcus and Tiffany Brooks are barred from entering Sherry Tech premises.” “Also,” I added, my voice flat, “initiate the legal freeze on all of Gray Marcus’s traceable assets. Tell the divorce attorney to prepare the papers.” After my secretary left, I dragged my exhausted body toward our bedroom. But the thought of Tiffany having been in that room, near my side of the bed, made my skin crawl. I pivoted and walked into the guest suite instead. … The next day, I slept until the early afternoon. When I finally powered on my phone, it lagged for a full thirty seconds. The notification bar was solid with missed calls from Gray and 99+ messages. I cleared them all with a single tap—the panicked, testing texts from last night, the raging, frantic accusations from this morning. I replied to my secretary’s update and headed downstairs, finally feeling a beautiful, quiet peace after a long, overdue sleep. But before I could even sit down at the breakfast table, the housekeeper approached with her own phone. “Ms. Sherry, Mr. Marcus called. He insisted I give the phone to you.” Since my lunch hadn’t been served yet, I took the call. Before I could speak, Gray’s roar of indignation blasted through the receiver. “Cami! What the hell is this supposed to mean? Do you know how much I was humiliated at the office today?!” The immediate, self-centered fury in his voice instantly dissolved the fragile tranquility I had managed to build. The anger I had suppressed last night surged back, raw and demanding. I scoffed. “Gray, understand your position. This is no longer about your embarrassment.” I stirred the rich pork rib soup in my ceramic bowl. “If you ever use that tone with me again, I guarantee you’ll lose a lot more than just your dignity.” I hung up again. A few minutes later, the phone rang a third time. This time, Gray’s anger was still evident, but heavily masked by a forced calm. “Cami, sweetheart, I went to Sherry Tech this morning, and security wouldn’t let me in. They said I was… terminated. What is going on?” I continued stirring my soup, my voice deliberately even. “It’s exactly what you heard. I put you in charge of Sherry Tech only because I was traveling. Now I’m back. It’s perfectly normal for you to step aside, wouldn’t you agree?” “And Tiff? That girl fought off serious competition for that job! She was only fired because she didn’t use a title when answering your midnight call?” His voice cracked, the fury barely contained. My voice instantly iced over. “Tiff? I don’t recall hiring any assistant who wears matching couple’s watches with the boss and spends the night in the master suite.” Gray sputtered into silence. It took him a strained minute to find his voice. “You… you know about that?” He stammered. “Cami, listen, that watch was a company bonus for Tiff’s performance. And she stayed because of a huge storm—she’s terrified of thunder, and she didn’t want to be alone in the guest room. I swear, I slept on the sofa!” I cut him off, my voice flat and devoid of any emotion. “And last night?” He immediately countered, defensive. “Last night was nothing! We finished a business dinner, and we had separate rooms. Her shower broke, and she just came over to borrow mine.” He sighed in a martyr-like way. “Honestly, Cami, are you serious? The girl asked you a couple of innocent questions, and you cursed her out, then threatened her job? I’m a married man, and there’s absolutely nothing between us—” “Please.” I leaned back in my chair, utterly impatient. “Gray, do you think I’m three years old?” “Afraid of thunder? Can’t she shove two cotton balls in her ears? Hotel shower broke? Has she never heard of calling the front desk for a different room?” A flash of the evidence my secretary gathered solidified the chill in my eyes. “Do you really think that because I’ve been out of the country for six months, I’ve been blind?” “The month after I left, you bought her a three-million-dollar condo near the office.” “Three months ago, you gifted her a Porsche.” “Last month, you used a fake business trip as an excuse to fly her to an island resort on a private jet.” “Gray, did you truly think I was a fucking idiot?” My voice was sharp, cutting through his excuses. I delivered my final verdict. “Get the car and the condo back from her. Now.” “Otherwise, she goes to prison, and you lose everything.” Gray tried one last, desperate attempt at damage control. “No, no, I just loaned them to her. They’re just… borrowed.” He switched tactics. “Besides, Mom is desperate for a grandchild to show off to her bridge club. If we divorce—” I interrupted him, ice in my voice. “What else did you think was going to happen?” “If you hadn’t stopped short of a statutory offense, we would be signing papers at the courthouse right now.” I didn’t give him a chance to defend himself again. I disconnected the call. 2 After lunch, I skipped the office and drove straight to the luxury mall with my best friend. A proper shopping spree was the only antidote to that level of betrayal. The next day, buoyed by my successful retail therapy, I pushed open my office door, only to have my blood pressure spike immediately. My husband was sprawled on my pristine leather sofa, and his assistant was practically sitting on him. Seeing me, Gray scrambled, frantically pushing Tiff off of him. “Wife, let me explain!” Tiff stumbled, falling to the floor and letting out a yelp as her elbow hit the corner of the glass coffee table. Gray, however, was focused solely on me, desperately trying to prove his innocence. “Honey, it’s not what it looks like! She accidentally twisted her ankle and fell on me just now—” “Shut up.” I avoided his attempt to reach for my purse, my voice cold enough to drop the temperature in the room. “Who let either of you in? I thought I made it clear you were both terminated.” My secretary and the terrified, visibly shaking front desk security officer scurried in. The guard was pale. “Ms. Sherry, I didn’t dare physically remove them. Mr. Marcus and Ms. Brooks were just loitering in the lobby. Then, the representatives from the partner company arrived for the meeting, and Mr. Marcus—he used his past relationship with them to slip in with the group. I truly couldn’t stop them, ma’am.” I took a deep breath, fighting to regain composure, and waved them off. “Go back to your posts. It’s not your fault.” Once the office was clear, I ignored Gray’s pleading eyes and started a slow survey of my private office. The essential oil diffuser next to the bookshelf was spewing the scent of lily—my least favorite fragrance. The framed picture of Gray and me had been shoved aside, replaced by a cheap, oversized Hello Kitty plush toy. Even the walk-in closet in the private rest area held a dress that was not mine. Tiff suddenly erupted in sobs, as if she were the one who had suffered an unspeakable tragedy. “Ms. Sherry, please don’t misunderstand! There is truly nothing between Mr. Marcus and me. That dress in the closet is only there because I forgot to take it home last time!” Gray immediately stepped forward, shielding Tiff behind him. “Cami, that’s enough. She’s just a young girl. Why are you being so cruel to her?” “The dress was because she got soaked in a rainstorm while running an errand. I had a new one delivered for her to change into. I only brought her here today to collect her personal items. It’s not like she should be forbidden to take her things just because she’s leaving… Wait! What are you doing?!” SLAP! The sharp crack echoed in the silent office. My hand, after shoving Gray aside, landed squarely on Tiff’s cheek, cutting off his pathetic defense. “Cami! Why did you hit Tiff?!” Gray roared, utterly enraged. I spun and slapped him across the face just as hard, my eyes blazing with icy disdain. “Why did I hit her? Do you think you get a pass?” “That piece of trash has a filthy mouth and the audacity to twist the facts to make me look crazy! She deserves every damn thing she gets!” 3 I had partners arriving for a meeting in the penthouse conference room later that evening. Gray couldn’t walk around with a swollen handprint on his face, and Tiff certainly couldn’t keep sobbing hysterically. I looked at Gray, my voice cold. “Are you going to keep making a scene here, or are you coming home with me?” Gray’s face was a mask of mortification, but he bit his lip and followed me out. In the parking garage, Gray took the keys and started to get into the driver’s seat. Tiff, the little opportunist, tried to open the passenger door. “Get out!” I snarled, a sharp, cold reprimand. “My car doesn’t transport trash.” “Cami! That is an awful thing to say!” Gray frowned, his jaw tight. I gave a bitter laugh. “I’m awful? She has the nerve to brazenly chase a married man and lie to my face. She deserves worse.” Tiff immediately dropped her head, feigning pathetic innocence. “I only wanted to ride along to help you two clear up this misunderstanding. I… I never intended to ruin anything.” I didn’t spare her a glance, keeping my icy stare locked on Gray. Finally, cornered and defeated, Gray got out of the car, pulled Tiff aside, and thrust cash into her hand. “Take a taxi home. I’ll reimburse you for the fare.” Only then did Tiff reluctantly walk away. I wanted privacy, so instead of letting the house staff witness the fallout, I drove Gray straight up to our suite. Gray assumed we were going to the bedroom, but I walked past it, heading toward the library. He rushed in front of me, nervously blocking the door. “How about we go somewhere else? You’ve been gone so long, the library must be dusty.” I ignored him, shoved him aside, and unlocked the heavy door. The sight that greeted me made my scalp tingle with a cold, blinding rage. My father’s framed portrait had been knocked to the floor, and a black, foul-smelling residue covered the glass. Scattered documents on the desk and the pristine mahogany floor were soaked with dried, yellow streaks. A sharp, acrid stench of urine burned my nostrils. I gagged, my voice trembling with suppressed violence. “Who did this?” Gray scratched his head, looking deeply uncomfortable. “Uh, Tiff… she might have been careless that day. Her cat might have accidentally—” “Accidentally?!” I grabbed Gray’s arm and yanked him into the doorway. “That library has a vault-grade lock! No one but you and I have the fingerprint access. And you’re telling me this was an accident?” “Wife, calm down,” Gray pleaded, trying to explain. “Tiff’s cat is usually very well-behaved. She brought some documents over for me to sign that day, and she wasn’t feeling well afterward. I guess we forgot to bring the cat with us when we left the room.” I pointed to the wall space above the ruined photo. “There was nothing hanging on that wall except the portrait, and absolutely no foothold for a cat. How did a house cat knock down a heavy, glass-framed photograph?” “And those files!” I pointed at the scattered, ruined desk. “I locked every single sensitive file in the secure safe before I left the country. Why are they out here now?!” Gray was speechless, unable to utter a single word of defense. Suddenly, Tiff appeared behind him. She dropped to her knees, immediately slapping herself across the face. “Ms. Sherry, I’m so sorry! This is all my fault! I am willing to pay for all the damage. This has nothing to do with Mr. Marcus; please, don’t blame him.” “Who let you in?” My voice was a low, dangerous growl. Tiff peered up at me, a flash of undeniable smugness in her tear-filled eyes. “Well, I was always coming over to drop off contracts for Mr. Marcus to sign, and I felt bad always bothering the house manager. So Mr. Marcus… he added my fingerprint to the villa’s security system.” I gave a grim smile and called out to the home AI. “Alexa, please call the police.” “Calling emergency services now, Cami.” “Stop! Alexa, cancel the command!” Gray panicked at the mention of the police. He whirled on me, enraged. “Cami, haven’t you caused enough trouble?” “Tiff already said she’d pay for the damages. Why are you dragging this on?” “I know you’re just jealous that Tiff was here keeping me company while you were gone, and you’re just looking for ways to hurt her.” His back straightened with conviction. “I’m telling you for the last time: there is nothing going on between Tiff and me, and I will not allow you to use her as your punching bag!” I picked up the heavy ceramic mug next to me and hurled it against the wall behind them. “Pay for the damage? Would you stand here and allow someone to deliberately instruct an animal to piss on your father’s memorial?” “Can she afford it? Do I need her pathetic compensation?” Gray protected the screaming Tiff, dodging the shattered pieces. He rubbed his temples in frustration. “Fine! You’re clearly hysterical right now. I can’t reason with you.” “Have someone make a list of the damaged items. Since I let her in, I’ll cover whatever Tiff can’t afford.” I let out a single, cold laugh. “Pay? You want to pay?” “Great. Let’s go to the courthouse right now and get a divorce. We’ll see how much you have left to ‘pay me’ when I’m done.” At the mention of divorce, Gray reacted like a stepped-on dog. “Why are you bringing that up again?” He sighed, adopting a tone of noble sacrifice. “Look, I get it. You just can’t stand Tiff. I’ll take her and go. I’ll keep her out of your sight. She can find a way to pay you back the money. Okay?” “Just don’t say those two words again. No matter how much I love you, I can’t handle this constant emotional blackmail.” With that, Gray didn’t wait for my reaction. He left me standing in the wreckage of the office and walked out, taking Tiffany Brooks with him. 4 No matter how stressful my personal life became, the company still needed me. The next morning, when I arrived at Sherry Tech, my executive key card wouldn’t even unlock the elevator. “What’s going on?” I demanded of the nearest front desk clerk. Before the clerk could answer, Tiffany Brooks emerged from the elevator, clutching a leather binder. She saw me and clapped a hand over her mouth in feigned shock. “Oh, Ms. Sherry! Didn’t you hear? You were voted off the board! Why are you still here?” “Oh, I forgot. Your secretary was also fired for ‘poor work performance’ and is probably too busy filling out her separation papers to notify you.” I raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Say that again? I was voted off the board?” Just then, Gray, flanked by a group of smiling, smug-looking shareholders, hurried toward us. He assumed I was harassing Tiff and immediately pulled her behind him, addressing me with cold contempt. “It’s exactly what you heard.” “Cami, you’ve been officially removed.” “The company shareholders held a meeting moments ago to vote on your removal, and the vote was unanimous. You were completely outvoted.” He crossed his arms. “So, Cami, you don’t need to come into the office anymore. You can just stay home and wait for your quarterly dividends.” I laughed, a sharp, cynical sound. “Removed? I founded this company, and I hold the largest stake. By what right do you dismiss me without even a conversation?!” The shareholders behind Gray looked away, shifting their feet nervously. Gray looked utterly bored. “You hold forty percent of the shares, yes, but you forget that the other shareholders and I control the remaining sixty percent.” “Forty to sixty. The outcome was never in doubt. Even if we had notified you, it would have just been a wasted trip. You couldn’t have changed anything.” I scanned the faces in the cluster, finally seeing them for what they were: a pack of opportunistic jackals. While I was in town, I kept the shareholders on a tight leash, preventing any embezzlement. Six months of my absence, combined with Gray’s lax management, gave them the opening they needed. They knew my return meant the end of their feast, so when Gray gave them the chance to boot me, they seized it. “Gray, that was a masterful play.” “I concede.” I laughed again, this time a hollow, self-deprecating sound. I laughed at my own idiocy—working myself into a severe bleeding ulcer, flying across continents for this company, only to realize I had placed a wolf in my own bed. Gray frowned, annoyed by my reaction. “Cami, we’re not denying you your money. You’ll still get your full dividends. There’s no need to act like we’re persecuting you.” His expression softened, manipulative once more. “Besides, Mom has always wanted a grandchild. You’ll have plenty of time now to focus on conceiving. I want us to have a baby too.” I stared at him for a long moment. “I don’t want that. We’re getting a divorce.” With those words, I turned and walked out of the building. I immediately dialed the internal line for the Sherry Group Legal Department. “My direct order: I want a full-scale withdrawal of all Sherry Group investments in Marcus Tech. They will repay every dollar, principal and interest, within three days.” Then, I called Marcus Tech’s oldest and most ruthless competitor. “Mr. Forrester, it’s Cami Sherry.” “Are you ready to partner with me and watch Marcus Tech burn to the ground?”

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In my last life, my wife, a SWAT officer, chose to save someone else when the kidnappers gave her an ultimatum. She did it to avoid the appearance of nepotism. But our one-year-old daughter wouldn’t stop crying for her daddy. And I, desperate, used that fact to force my wife’s hand, to make her choose me. The negotiation failed. The man she chose, the man she’d always loved, was executed by the kidnappers, tortured to death. My wife fell into a deep depression for three years. And for three years, she hated me. Then, on our daughter’s fourth birthday, she suddenly broke from her usual cold indifference. She came home with a cake. I thought she was finally ready to let go of the past. I never imagined the cake was laced with poison. As I coughed up blood, I stared at her in disbelief, asking her why. Her smile was a twisted, ugly thing. “It’s because of you. Because of you, Flynn died! If I could do it all over again, I would never have saved you…” In the end, she tortured me and our daughter to death. But then, the unthinkable happened. I was reborn. This time, I chose to let go. I chose to face death with open arms. But after I died, my wife… she regretted everything. 1 “Cassidy! Make the call! Who are you choosing?” The familiar voice roared in my ears. My eyes snapped open, and the horrifying reality hit me. I was back. I had truly been reborn. Here I was, on the edge of a skyscraper rooftop, tied up next to Flynn Pierce—the man my wife, Cassidy, had always loved. Eighteen stories of empty air yawned beneath us, and a single, fraying rope was all that kept each of us from the abyss. Down on the street, Cassidy hesitated, her face pale, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. The kidnapper’s voice crackled through a bullhorn, impatient. “You’re SWAT’s legendary Cassidy Holt, famous for your lightning-fast decisions! Quit stalling! We don’t have all day to play your little games!” My voice was a raw croak. “Cassidy, if they take me, they’ll kill me.” I knew how this ended. I knew the negotiations would fail, and I would die. But the image of my daughter, Sunny, not even two years old, flashed in my mind. I had to try. Beside me, Flynn was a sobbing wreck. “Cass, I’m scared!” he wailed. “I’m so damn scared! Please, save me! I don’t want to die!” Cassidy’s hand tightened into a fist. She raised her own bullhorn, her voice finally steady, stripped of all doubt. “Release Flynn Pierce! I’m choosing Flynn!” Even knowing it was coming, even in this second life, a sharp, brutal pain lanced through my chest, as if a hand had reached inside and squeezed my heart. But this time, I accepted it. After all, even if I had returned to her side, death was waiting for me anyway. Better to end it now than to repeat the gruesome tragedy of my last life. Cassidy’s voice came again, this time directed at me. “Cole, I’m sorry. But you’re a cop’s husband. They won’t really kill you! Flynn… he’s not strong like you. His heart is weak. He can’t take this. Just hang on. I promise I’ll come back for you!” I closed my eyes, a wave of despair washing over me. The kidnapper let out a booming laugh. “Well, well, Cassidy! Looks like you still love your old flame more! Fine, I’ll grant your wish!” With a single, swift motion, he sliced through the rope holding Flynn. Flynn dropped like a stone, landing squarely on the inflatable cushion the police had set up below. He tumbled right into Cassidy’s waiting arms and promptly passed out. And me? The kidnappers dragged me onto a helicopter, and we disappeared into the city skyline. They took me to an old, abandoned warehouse that reeked of mold and decay. When I came to, they were all gathered around me, their faces twisted into ugly sneers. The leader stepped forward. “Boys, that bitch Cassidy Holt has been a thorn in our side for years. Tonight, we finally get our revenge.” My blood ran cold. This wasn’t how it happened last time. In my previous life, there was a second round of negotiations. Why was this happening now? “Don’t come near me,” I pleaded, my voice shaking. “Please, I’m begging you. My wife, she’ll come back for me. She’ll give you whatever you want. Money, anything. Please, don’t hurt me. I have a daughter… she’s waiting for me to come home…” My words only seemed to amuse them. Their smiles turned predatory. “Oh, listen to that! He’s a daddy!” “This is gonna be fun. I love it when they fight back, knowing they can’t escape.” They started tearing at my clothes. I tried to resist, but a vicious backhand sent me to the ground, my nose and mouth exploding with the coppery taste of blood. No matter how much I begged, there was no escape. They tied me to the floor, helpless, like a fish on a cutting board. Then they brought out their tools. Tears of humiliation streamed from my eyes as they beat me, over and over again. “I’m sorry, Sunny,” I whispered into the darkness. “Daddy’s not coming home… Daddy broke his promise…” Seeing my despair only seemed to fuel their cruelty. Finally, they grew tired. The leader draped a white cloth over my head. And with a single, final blow from a hammer, he ended my life. 2 The pain was gone. My soul felt weightless, drifting upwards. Then, as if pulled by an invisible string, I found myself floating beside Cassidy. She was at the hospital, sitting by Flynn’s bedside. After a while, he began to stir, waking with a startled gasp. He scrambled into her arms, whimpering like a frightened child. “No, please, don’t hit me anymore… I’ll be good…” Cassidy soothed him, her voice soft and gentle, until he finally calmed down. On the television in the room, a news channel was replaying the events from the rooftop. The public response was overwhelming. Comments flooded the screen: “I can’t believe Officer Holt was so professional! She didn’t give her own family special treatment!” “I heard they just got married and have a daughter. To risk her own family to save a civilian… she’s a true hero!” Watching the screen, Cassidy finally seemed to remember me. She stood up and poured Flynn a glass of water. “Flynn, I’m so glad you’re awake. I’m going to head back to the scene, see if I can find any more clues to get Cole back. You take care of yourself while I’m gone. Call me if you need anything.” She turned to leave, but Flynn immediately broke into a violent coughing fit. “Flynn? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, rushing back to his side. He looked up at her, his face pale and weak. “Cass, I’m sorry. I’m holding you back from your work. But my head… it’s killing me. The doctor said it’s a side effect of the trauma. I can’t be alone right now…” He looked at her with pleading eyes. “Can’t you… can’t you assign Cole’s case to one of your colleagues?” Cassidy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. I watched it all, a detached calm settling over me. It didn’t matter. I was already dead. I didn’t need justice. 3 That night, after Flynn had fallen asleep, Cassidy slipped out and drove back to the crime scene. She swept the area with her flashlight. After a thorough search, she found it: the silver locket I had deliberately left behind. She picked it up, her brow furrowed in thought. It was the clue I had left for her. As the kidnappers were dragging me onto the helicopter, I had managed to bite through the chain and drop it. The locket was from a small shop near the old chapel in the south district. That chapel had since been torn down, and the entire area was now a desolate, industrial wasteland. “Demolition… wasteland…” The words sparked something in her mind. She understood. She immediately pulled out her phone. “Captain Reyes, I need a team. I want to request a grid search of the abandoned industrial park in the south district. Focus on any old churches or warehouses where they could hide someone.” But just as she finished speaking, her phone rang again. It was a nurse from the hospital. “Officer Holt, Mr. Pierce is extremely agitated. As his emergency contact, you shouldn’t have just left him here. You need to come back. Now.” She wanted to keep searching, to follow the lead, but in the end, she got back in her car and drove to the hospital. In her heart, Flynn’s safety had always come first. The moment she walked into his room, he threw himself into her arms, sobbing. “Cass, you have no idea… I had the most horrible nightmare. I reached for you, but you were gone. I was so scared. Please, promise you won’t leave me again.” Guilt washed over her face. “I’m sorry, Flynn,” she said softly. “I promise. I’ll stay with you.” She helped him back into bed. “Cass,” he asked, his voice hesitant. “Where did you go?” “I went back to the scene,” she admitted. “I was looking for clues. It’s been more than twelve hours since the kidnappers took Cole, and they haven’t made contact. I’m worried that…” “Oh, he’ll be fine,” Flynn interrupted. “Don’t worry so much about him, Cass. During the days we were held, Cole and the kidnappers… they got along surprisingly well.” Cassidy looked stunned. “Got along? What do you mean?” Flynn shifted uncomfortably. “Well… those guys were sickos, you know? Capable of anything. And Cole… to get them on his side, he… he offered himself to them. He even tried to convince me to do the same, but I refused. That’s why they kept beating me…” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I never imagined Flynn could be so monstrous. After we were taken, they gave us one bowl of watery porridge a day. I always gave half of mine to him, trying to protect the timid man I thought he was. And I had never, ever done what he claimed. But Cassidy believed him. Her hands clenched into fists. “Why would he do that?” she muttered, her voice tight with anger. “Cole… did you have so little faith in me? Did you really not believe I would get you out?” It was useless. I should have known. Cassidy had never trusted me. Not even once. The next morning, the police received a new message from the kidnappers. It was written as if it were from me. “Cassidy, wire the kidnappers ten million dollars. I’ve negotiated a deal with them. As soon as they get the money, they’ll let me go. Cass, I’m waiting for you to save me!” She was torn again. If she paid the ransom, it would set a dangerous precedent for future cases. But if she didn’t, my life was on the line. As she wrestled with the decision, a video call came in from Flynn. The moment she answered, his frantic sobs filled the air. “Cass, it’s horrible! My apartment… it’s been robbed!” “A break-in?” she asked immediately. “Did they force the door? Did security see anything? I thought your building was secure.” “No,” Flynn cried. “They knew my keypad code. It had to be Cole. Remember that time you came over for dinner and he showed up? He must have seen the code then. He must have given it to the kidnappers to save his own skin. My savings, my gold… it’s all gone!” That was the last straw. All of Cassidy’s hesitation vanished, replaced by cold fury. She replied to my message. “Cole, are you insane? Do you have any idea what being a hostage means? Your job is to wait for rescue, not to cut your own deals by sacrificing others! I am not sending that money! It would only make things worse!” Then she turned her attention back to Flynn. “Flynn, stay put. I’m on my way. Don’t go inside until I get there.” As she was speeding toward Flynn’s apartment, a call came in from her captain. “Cassidy,” Captain Reyes said, his voice urgent. “We found a male body in a warehouse in the south district. The face is… it’s unrecognizable. You need to get down here. We think it might be…” They had found me. Two days later, my body had started to decompose, swarming with flies. But Cassidy cut him off. “It’s not him. Just take the body back to the station for a DNA test. Flynn’s apartment was just robbed. I need to go check on him first.” I wanted to scream, to wrench the steering wheel from her hands. If she would just go, just look, she would see the distinctive birthmark on my thigh. She would know it was me. But I was just a ghost. She was already at Flynn’s building. The sight of him huddled by the door, sobbing, shattered her heart. She immediately took him back to our home. “Flynn, you can stay with me for a while,” she said. “Just until we’re sure you’re safe.” He clung to her tightly. “Thank you, Cass. Without you, I don’t know what I’d do.” That night, they slept in the same bed. Our bed. The irony was a bitter pill. Our marital home, now occupied by another man. As if he were the master of the house all along. Early the next morning, her phone rang. It was Captain Reyes. “Cassidy, the DNA results are in. It’s…”

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