1 Two years after my husband vanished, presumed dead, I sold everything for his mother’s medical bills. It wasn’t enough. On the day of her funeral, he returned. Seeing the sales contracts and her urn, he didn’t look at me with love, but with pure hatred. “I gave you my world, Sarah. The moment I was gone, you sold everything and let my mother die alone.” He never let me explain. The man I knew died that day, replaced by a cold playboy. He spent lavishly on other women but wouldn’t spare a dollar for the medicine I needed. When I was diagnosed, I bought myself a simple urn with my last money. He laughed and gave it to his new girlfriend for her dog’s water bowl. Seeing that, I didn’t break. I smiled. He looked confused. “Tired of playing the victim? Trying a new tactic?” he sneered. … A ripple of laughter went through the room from his latest conquest. I just shook my head, my smile never wavering. “No,” I said, my voice calm and clear. “I’m just grateful. You’ve finally allowed my heart to die completely. Now I can leave with no attachments.” Hearing that, Declan’s gaze turned to ice. “Leave?” He scoffed. “Sarah, you’re an orphan. You have no one. You’ve only survived this long because of me. Without me, without the Blackwood name, where could you possibly go?” I listened to his contemptuous words and felt nothing. I offered no defense. I simply turned and walked toward the small, forgotten room he’d relegated me to, the one he used for storage. As I reached the door, a searing pain ripped through my lungs. I stumbled, gripping the doorframe, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood to keep from coughing. Behind me, his girlfriend’s voice dripped with saccharine poison. “Declan, darling, look at her. She’s such a mess, it’s depressing. Let’s just go upstairs and watch a movie.” Declan let out an impatient sigh. “Fine. Let’s go. Don’t let her ruin the evening.” Their footsteps faded as they headed upstairs. I shuffled into the small room, each step an agony. I collapsed onto the old, lumpy mattress, curling into a ball as pain radiated through me. It felt like my bones were being pulled apart and crudely snapped back together. Every movement was a fresh wave of torture. There was no point in asking him for help again. I’d tried, just last week. The pain had been unbearable, and I had dragged myself into the living room where he was lounging on the sofa, feeding slices of mango to his flavor of the week. “Declan,” I’d hesitated, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m in so much pain. Could you… could you spare some money for painkillers?” He’d glanced up, a mocking smirk on his face. “Faking an illness for attention again? Sarah, you’ve played this card a thousand times. Can’t you come up with something new?” The girl beside him giggled, covering her mouth. “Declan, I think she’s just jealous seeing us so happy. She’s trying to make you feel sorry for her.” Declan pulled out his wallet, peeled off a thick wad of cash, and threw it on the floor. “You want money? There it is. Kneel and pick it up. Every bill you grab is yours.” I didn’t kneel. I just swallowed the pain and the humiliation, turned around, and walked back to my storage room. From that day on, I never asked him for another cent. As night deepened, the pain intensified until I couldn’t bear it. I fumbled under the mattress for my savings. Seventy-three dollars and fifty cents. It was all I had left, scraped together from the meager food budget I allowed myself. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. Swallowing solid food was like swallowing glass, so I’d been living on thin broth, just enough to keep me alive. Seventy-three dollars and fifty cents. Not even enough for a single dose of the good painkillers. Just then, I heard footsteps outside my door, followed by the sound of laughter. I quickly shoved the small bundle of cash back under the bed and curled up in the corner, feigning sleep. It was Tiffany’s cloying voice. “Declan, is that sick little thing still here? Isn’t she just taking up space?” Declan’s voice was laced with annoyance. “Let her stay. It’s not like she can do anything.” Tiffany whined, “But I don’t like her. Having her around just gives me the creeps.” Declan chuckled, his tone shifting to one of indulgence. “Shh, baby. Just ignore her. Let’s go upstairs.” But she wasn’t done. “No, I mean it! I’m bringing my dog over tomorrow, and I don’t want her scaring him.” Declan sighed, a sound of weary surrender. “Alright, alright, whatever you want. Bring the dog tomorrow. He can have the whole yard to himself.” Their voices and footsteps receded down the hall until there was only silence. I knew he didn’t really not care. He kept me here for a reason. He wanted to watch me suffer, to see me waste away in this dark corner like a stray dog. He wanted to see me broken and full of regret. He was convinced I couldn’t live without him, that I was clinging to the Blackwood family for money and status. He believed my entire life, my every action, was just a performance. 2 By the time the pain subsided to a dull ache, the sky was already turning a pale grey. I pulled an old tin box from beneath my bed, a secret I had guarded for a long time. Inside were the small trinkets Declan had given me before he disappeared. The stubs from our first movie date. We sat in the back row, and he’d secretly taken my hand in the dark. He had leaned in, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, “Sarah, I promise I’m going to give you the best life. I’ll give you everything.” A faded photograph of the ugliest cake imaginable. He had tried to bake it for my birthday himself. The frosting was lumpy, the fruit was sliding off one side. “It’s one-of-a-kind, Sarah. Just for you.” He hadn’t had money for a fancy cake back then, so he’d spent the entire afternoon destroying the kitchen to make me one. I stared at these relics, a familiar warmth spreading behind my eyes, but there was no hope left in my heart. For a year, during his absence, these things had been my lifeline. I’d look at them every single day, praying he was still alive somewhere, imagining how he would hold me and soothe my pain when he finally came home. But when he came home, all he saw were sales contracts and an urn. He didn’t want an explanation. He only believed the story he saw with his own eyes. He had decided I was a gold-digger who had stolen everything and left his mother to die. Suddenly, the door was kicked open with a deafening crash. I jumped, and the photograph slipped from my fingers, fluttering to the floor. Declan stood in the doorway, his face a thunderous mask. He reeked of whiskey, and his eyes held a vicious glint I’d never seen before. His gaze fell to the open box in my hands, then to the scattered tickets and the photo on the floor. The coldness in his eyes deepened into a glacial frost. He strode into the room, snatched the tin box from my grasp, and slammed it onto the ground. Its contents scattered across the dirty floor. The ticket stubs were crumpled, and he brought his heel down on the photograph, grinding it into the floorboards. A sharp sting went through my chest as I watched my memories being destroyed. But my face remained a blank canvas. I just looked at him. He sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “What’s this? Taking a trip down memory lane with this junk? Trying to make me feel sorry for you?” Looking at his twisted, hateful face, I felt a strange sense of release. All the sweet memories that had been carved into my soul, the hope that had carried me through countless nights of despair—it was all a joke. I shook my head slowly. “None of this matters anymore. I just want you to leave me in peace for my final days.” Declan looked at me as if I’d told the world’s most absurd joke and let out a harsh, barking laugh. “Your final days? You really commit to the act, don’t you? What’s the endgame here, a big fat severance check?” He looked down at me, his lip curled. “Name your price. How much will it take for you to get out of my house and out of my life? I’ll give you enough to live comfortably for the rest of your miserable years.” I didn’t answer him. I just slowly knelt and began to gather the scattered pieces of my past. 3 The movie stubs were torn. The photograph was cracked. I picked up the fragments, one by one, and placed them back into the dented tin box. The pain in my lungs flared again, sharper this time. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him see me cough. Declan watched me, his frown deepening. “What game are you playing now, Sarah? Do you think this pathetic display will make me pity you?” “You know exactly what you did!” he roared. “It was always about the money, wasn’t it? Is money really that important to you?” I ignored him, continuing my quiet task. Suddenly, he lunged forward and kicked the box out of my hands. “Stop picking up that trash! It should have been thrown out years ago.” I looked up at him, my voice eerily calm. “Declan, you win.” “You succeeded in making me love you, and you succeeded in making me fall out of love.” He froze, clearly not expecting those words. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. “What did you say?” I pushed myself to my feet, the pain so intense I couldn’t stand up straight. I remained hunched over, my body trembling. “I won’t ask you for another penny. I won’t cling to you. And I won’t play the victim anymore.” “I just want to leave. Quietly.” Declan’s expression shifted. “Leave? Where do you think you’re going?” A small, tired smile touched my lips. “Anywhere is better than here. As long as it’s not in the Blackwood house. As long as it’s not near you.” “I’d rather be a nobody in a town where no one knows my name. I’d rather lie on the side of the road than stay by your side for another minute.” He stared at me, a flicker of something—was it panic?—in his eyes. His tone changed abruptly. “You think you can just walk out of here? The gates to this house aren’t a revolving door.” I didn’t reply. I just slowly turned away from him. The wind outside howled, whipping my hair around my face, but I felt lighter than I had in years. I knew I might not make it out of the Blackwood estate. I knew my body was failing. But I didn’t care anymore. When your heart is dead, what’s the difference between living and dying? The burning in my lungs became unbearable. A cough escaped my lips, then another. The metallic taste of blood filled my throat. I pressed a hand to my mouth, but it was too late. A violent spasm wracked my body, and I coughed up blood onto the floor. Declan saw the crimson drops. His pupils constricted in shock. “You’re coughing up blood?” I didn’t turn around. “It’s nothing,” I whispered. He rushed forward, reaching for my arm. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I recoiled from his touch, my voice barely audible but sharp as a razor. “Don’t touch me, Declan. Don’t you dare touch me.” “You’re filthy.” His hand froze in mid-air. The panic in his eyes was undeniable now. “Are you… are you really sick?” I didn’t answer. I just gathered my few belongings. “I have to go.” He hesitated, his gaze flicking between me and the blood on the floor. Just then, Tiffany pranced into the room, her little dog trotting at her heels. In that moment of his indecision, I walked out. A friend found me a small place to stay. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for the time I had left. I started writing my will. I had nothing of value to leave, just a few words I needed to say. 4 Back at the Blackwood mansion, Declan was a storm of restless energy. Ever since I’d left, an unbearable agitation had taken root in his heart. He locked himself in his study, smashing priceless vases against the wall. When Tiffany tried to coax him out, he threw her out of the room without a second thought. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Something felt profoundly, fundamentally wrong, but a part of him refused to examine it too closely. He had built his entire reality on a single, unwavering belief: I was a greedy, heartless woman who had stolen his fortune and caused his mother’s death. Then he remembered his assistant had organized some old files from that year. He decided to find them, to look at the proof one last time, to solidify his hatred and kill this gnawing uncertainty for good. He searched for what felt like hours before finally locating the correct file. But as he read through the documents—bank transfers, hospital invoices, pharmacy receipts—a cold dread began to creep into his veins. It felt like the very foundation of his world was cracking beneath his feet. Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed his car keys and sped to the city hospital. He burst into the office of his mother’s former physician. “Tell me what really happened when my mother was sick,” he demanded. “Sarah… did she use the money from selling my assets to pay for my mother’s treatment?” The doctor looked at Declan, his expression one of pure confusion. “Mr. Blackwood, why are you asking this? Surely you knew how dire your mother’s condition was? She was in the final stages. She could have been gone at any moment. It was your wife, Ms. Sarah, who fought to give her more time. She sold everything she could.” The doctor continued, his voice softening. “I saw her once, in the hospital corridor, eating a dry piece of bread. She was just sitting there, chewing and crying silently. When I asked what was wrong, she just shook her head and said she felt like she’d failed your mother, that she couldn’t make her well again.” “Every single dollar from those sales was wired directly to the hospital’s account to cover medical fees and surgical procedures. As her primary physician, I saw every transaction. If it weren’t for her, your mother would never have held on long enough for you to come back. She would have been gone months earlier.” “Mr. Blackwood, your wife sacrificed everything for your mother, for your family. How could you not know? How could you ever doubt her?” Declan stood frozen, his body rigid, his mind a roaring void. The facts he had clung to, the reasons for his burning hatred, had all just turned to ash. The doctor was still speaking, but the words were a meaningless buzz in Declan’s ears. The world tilted, black spots dancing in his vision. After a long silence, he finally managed to force out a question, his voice a ragged whisper. “Doctor… Sarah… how is she now? Her health?” The doctor’s face fell. He shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “Ms. Sarah came in for a check-up a while ago. It’s late-stage lung cancer, Mr. Blackwood. She doesn’t have much time left.” “She said she didn’t want treatment. She just wants to live out her final days in peace.”

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On New Year’s Eve, I signed for a package containing a diamond ring. After triple-checking that the recipient’s name was indeed my husband’s, I called out to the delivery driver, confused. “Are you sure this is right? Maybe it’s someone with the same name. I’m already married…” At that exact moment, my husband’s call came through. “Honey,” he started, his voice hesitant. “Did a package arrive by any chance?” Sensing the caution in his tone, I played along. “No, nothing. Were you expecting something?” He let out a visible sigh of relief over the phone. “No, no, I must have been mistaken. Listen, honey, I’m so sorry I have to be out of the country on New Year’s Eve. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back!” I hung up. The delivery guy, having double-checked the address on his device, smiled apologetically. “My apologies, ma’am. This is for the apartment upstairs. I delivered it to the wrong floor.” I shook my head, taking the small box from his hand as I stepped into the elevator. “No problem. My friend lives up there. I can take it up for you.” 1 “Hello, you have a package.” My hand was trembling as I pressed the doorbell. A moment later, the door swung open. “Finally, it’s here…” A middle-aged woman smiled as she reached for the box, but her expression froze the instant she looked up and saw my face. “Alice?” Her gasp was drowned out by a wave of cheers and laughter from inside the apartment. I was just as stunned as she was. This was my mother-in-law, the one who was always too sick to visit, who insisted she needed to rest quietly in her hometown. An elegantly dressed woman emerged from the apartment, looking at me curiously. “And who is this?” My mother-in-law was frozen, completely at a loss for words. The other woman sized me up with a thoughtful gaze, then offered a polite smile. “You must be one of Nathan’s friends. Please, come in!” I glanced at his mother before stepping inside, my face a mask of calm. The apartment was filled with Nathaniel’s closest friends and family, all of them busy setting up for a marriage proposal. It was warm, romantic, and decorated with the high-end silk draperies I had custom-ordered for our own home. I took a deep breath and walked further into the room. My mother-in-law, frantic, tried to rush ahead of me to warn the others, but the music was too loud, the younger crowd too caught up in their own excitement to notice her. My eyes swept across the living room, and my heart began to sink like a stone. The carpet was the one I’d had imported from Italy. The limited-edition designer handbags scattered on the coffee table were from my own collection. Even the three-hundred-thousand-dollar watch on the other woman’s wrist was mine. The value of these items alone was enough to warrant a grand larceny charge. My gaze settled on her, and my voice was low and dangerous when I spoke. “I’ve seen you before. You’re the woman in our building who drives the Rolls-Royce.” A flicker of feminine intuition crossed her face. She studied me for a moment, her eyes glancing toward the celebrating group inside. “And you are… which of Nathan’s friends?” she asked, her tone polite but probing. I offered a thin smile. “He must love you very much.” A shy blush colored her cheeks as she nodded, and once the topic of their love was broached, she couldn’t stop herself. “We’ve been together for ten years, ever since high school. And now, this proposal. No matter how busy he is, he comes home to me every single night. He even hand-washes my lingerie.” “His mother feels so sorry for me since my parents passed away. She treats me like her own daughter, coming all the way from her hometown for holidays just so we can be together.” She gestured toward a heart-shaped lunchbox on the kitchen counter. “He says takeout is unhealthy, so he prepares my breakfast for me every morning before he leaves. It’s always waiting for me when I wake up.” The sight of that familiar lunchbox made my world tilt. Nathaniel had a sensitive stomach. I was the one who woke up an hour early every single day to make him a healthy breakfast to take to the office. All this time, he had been giving it to her, passing my love off as his own. Our eight-year relationship also started in high school. When my family’s company was investigated and my life fell apart, he was the one who stood by me without hesitation. He was the one who skipped gatherings with his friends because he wanted to rush home to me. He bought me everything I ever wanted, planned countless romantic surprises. He washed my lingerie by hand, too. Only now did I realize I wasn’t the only one. POP! A volley of confetti cannons exploded by the door, showering the room in glittering paper. The woman snapped out of her reverie and gave me an embarrassed smile. “Oh! Nathan’s changed. He’s coming out! He’s going to propose!” I followed numbly behind her. Through the shimmering cloud of confetti, I saw him. He was wearing the bespoke suit I had bought him, and he took a velvet ring box from his mother’s hand. Completely oblivious to her frantic, warning glances, he turned and walked straight toward the other woman, Isabelle. “Isabelle,” he said, his voice full of emotion. “Will you marry me?” Tears of joy filled her eyes as she threw herself into his arms. “Yes! I’m willing!” Everyone’s attention was on them. The room erupted in whistles and thunderous applause. “Congratulations, Nathan!” “Congrats, man! Eight years of hardship finally paid off! You got the girl and the career!” Hiding behind a large potted plant, I watched as he slid the ring—my ring—onto Isabelle’s finger. The beautiful dream he had built for me shattered into a million irreparable pieces. One of his friends pulled him aside, whispering, “Hey man, what about the woman downstairs?” Nathaniel blew out a stream of smoke, his voice casual and dismissive. “She trusts me completely. She’ll never know.” “And even if she finds out,” he added with a smirk, “what’s a lonely orphan going to do about it?” He turned then, and his eyes met mine. “Al… Alice?” 2 The music screeched to a halt. Friends and family exchanged nervous glances, frozen in place. The smile on Isabelle’s face slowly dissolved as her eyes darted between me and Nathan. “Nathan, who is she?” she asked, tightening her grip on his arm, a clear act of staking her claim. Nathaniel’s lips trembled, but no words came out. My eyes were locked on his. “Go on. Tell her who I am.” “If you won’t, then I will. I’m—” Panic finally seized him. He grabbed my arm, practically dragging me out of the apartment and back to our front door. Inside, he stared at me, his voice tight with tension. “Honey, don’t misunderstand. I can explain.” “Isabelle and I grew up together. She dropped out of school and worked multiple jobs just so I could go to college.” “That was just a teenage crush, not love. You’re the one I love. But… she developed cancer from all the years of overwork. I couldn’t just abandon her.” When I remained silent, he grew more desperate, nearly falling to his knees. “Alice, what I feel for her is just obligation, a debt. I only hid it from you because I didn’t want you to worry.” Seeing the pathetic guilt on his face felt like a cruel joke. I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch, just took the full force of the blow. “You didn’t want me to worry?” I spat. “What about you stealing my things to give to her? I’m calling the police!” Just then, the front door burst open. My mother-in-law stormed in and slapped me just as hard. “How dare you hit my son, you barren hen!” she shrieked. “What man doesn’t have someone on the side these days? He had the decency not to bring her into your home. Didn’t your mother teach you anything? You should be prepared for this!” “My son’s company is successful now. You should be grateful he only has one. Even if he had five others, you’d have to learn to live with it! At the end of the day, you only married him for our money, you shameless gold-digger!” The sting on my cheek was white-hot. I said nothing. I just stared at Nathaniel. To protect his pride, I had handed over the management of my family’s company to him after we got married. Without me, he’d still be a nobody working a nine-to-five job. And the reason we couldn’t conceive wasn’t me. It was his low sperm count. Unsettled by my glare, he shoved his mother out of the room. “Mom, can you please stay out of our business?” He locked the door again. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice pleading. “Honey, I was wrong. Hit me, scream at me, do whatever you want.” “I’m just begging you, please don’t hurt Isabelle. She’s in the final stages of cancer. Today’s proposal was just an act, a way to let her go without any regrets.” The thought of his arms having just held her made my stomach turn. I pushed him away with a surge of revulsion, shoving him toward the door. “Don’t touch me! Get out!” Leaning against the closed door, the sobs I had been holding back finally broke free, racking my body in huge, shuddering waves. The day my company was sabotaged, the day my parents were driven to suicide… the coroners had needed help carrying their bodies down six flights of stairs. He had driven through a blizzard, crossing half the state overnight to be there. He had risked his entire career, dealing with the authorities, fighting the legal battles, and arranging their funeral. And during the pandemic, when I had a raging fever, he drove to the next town in the middle of the night just to find me medicine. When I recovered, he got sick. Terrified of infecting me, he—a man obsessed with cleanliness—checked himself into a cheap hotel. Those two acts had been his armor, his immunity from any wrong in my eyes. But what happened today was a betrayal so deep it shattered everything. My mind was a chaotic storm. I wanted to scream, but no sound would come out. Wiping away my tears, I called my lawyer and instructed him to start digging into our finances. His initial response shocked me. “Ms. Shenford, I’m not seeing any transfers from Nathaniel to an Isabelle. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” I wouldn’t give up. “Mr. Peterson, I need you to do a full asset check. Property, bank accounts, vehicles, commercial real estate, investments—everything in his name. Report it all back to me.” I didn’t sleep a wink. The moment dawn broke, I opened the door. Nathaniel was standing outside, shivering, holding a bag of fresh breakfast. The snow dusting his shoulders was a cruel echo of the night he had rushed to my side. For a moment, I was lost in the memory. He saw me and spoke timidly. “Honey, I waited outside all night. I just went to get your favorite…” I glanced at the bag in his hands. The aroma that usually made my mouth water now just made me feel sick. I ignored him and drove straight to the hospital. An hour later, I walked out with a pregnancy report in my hand. Seeing a young family laughing on the sidewalk, I instinctively touched my flat stomach. I couldn’t bring myself to be ruthless. Isabelle had late-stage cancer, anyway. I could wait. Back at our building, I ran into her at the elevator. Her eyes were red and swollen. The moment she saw me, she quickly hid a trash bag behind her back. But not before I saw a familiar breakfast bag inside. My direct stare made her blush with shame. “He met with me last night,” she said, her voice strained. “We talked all night. It was the first time I learned he was married.” “Don’t worry,” she continued, “I’m moving out today. I would never be the third party who destroys your marriage.” She turned away, wiping a tear from her eye, a bitter smile on her lips. “The breakfast from that shop is my favorite. He insisted on buying it for me when we got back this morning.” “But I didn’t eat it,” she added quickly. “You don’t have to worry.” It was clear she was desperately trying to cling to the last shreds of her pride. A question escaped my lips before I could stop it. “Your illness…” She looked at me, baffled. “What illness?” The world seemed to stop. A lump formed in my throat, and hot tears spilled over, scalding the back of my hand. I went to the building’s security office. I watched the footage from last night: Nathaniel and Isabelle, locked in a passionate kiss right below our apartment. Despair washed over me. The head of security was one of Nathan’s friends. It wasn’t long before my phone rang. Nathan’s voice was frantic, distorted with panic. “Alice, don’t do anything rash! Whatever you do, don’t hurt Isabelle—” I hung up, a dull ringing in my ears. When I got home, my vision swam. The world around me blurred. I don’t know when I passed out. When I woke up, I heard the front door open. I recognized Nathan’s footsteps, and someone else’s. My head was spinning. I couldn’t bear to hear another one of his lies. I stumbled toward the bedroom. Suddenly, Nathaniel lunged at me, his hands closing around my neck. His face was twisted with a terrifying rage. “Alice Shenford,” he snarled. “You hurt Isabelle. Now you’re going to pay.” 3 I was stunned, clawing weakly at his hands. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything!” SLAP! Veins bulged on his forehead as he struck me, the sound echoing in the silent apartment. “You called the cops and reported her for theft! You had her dragged away in front of the entire building!” He raked a hand through his hair, his face contorting in fury. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me violently, his voice rising to a roar. “So I cheated! So what?” “She was already leaving! Why did you have to post last night’s security footage online? It went viral, it’s the number one trending topic! How is a woman with her pride supposed to handle that?” “She tried to kill herself! Are you happy now? She’s pregnant with my child!” I froze. I was sure I had seen a used sanitary pad in her trash bag this morning. “That’s impossible, I—” He didn’t give me a chance to explain. He shot a look at the strange men standing behind him. They swarmed me, tying my hands and feet, gagging me with a cloth. They began tearing at my clothes. I struggled, a scream of pure terror trapped in my throat, but it was useless. What shattered me completely was Nathaniel, standing there, ignoring my desperate, muffled pleas, coldly filming the entire thing on his phone. “Alice, you owe this to Isabelle,” he said, his voice flat and detached. “I’m going to use these pictures to bury her scandal online.” “You’re going to stay home for a while. We both need some time to cool off.” He glanced at me one last time, a flicker of conflict in his eyes, before throwing a blanket over my exposed body and leaving. I curled into a ball, my gaze vacant, feeling myself splintering apart. I fought to control the violent shaking of my body, to suppress the agony that threatened to swallow me whole. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was the full financial report from my lawyer. I opened it, and a single glance was enough to break my heart completely. All of my company’s shares had been legally transferred to Nathaniel. For years, under the guise of helping Isabelle start her own business, he had been funneling tens of millions of dollars to her every month through fake corporate transactions. In disbelief, I called Mr. Peterson, my hands trembling. “Ms. Shenford, there’s no mistake. The share transfer agreement was signed by you. It was during that period when you were ill, right after you lost your parents.” I slumped to the floor, a wave of regret so powerful I wanted to strangle myself. During that dark time, I had no will to manage the company. I had signed every document Nathaniel put in front of me without even reading it. Suddenly, a breaking news alert popped up on my phone. Nathaniel was standing in front of my company’s building with a newly discharged Isabelle. “I’ve called this press conference today to make one thing clear,” he announced to the swarm of reporters. “Isabelle is not the third party who destroyed my marriage!” “She is the love of my life, and this company is my wedding gift to her!” With that, he played the obscene video of me on a large screen for all the world to see. The media erupted. Cameras flashed, microphones were shoved forward. Within ten minutes, the video of my assault had completely eclipsed Isabelle’s scandal. Seeing his opportunity, Nathaniel produced a divorce certificate. “The truth is, Alice Shenford has been living a promiscuous life for years. We were divorced three years ago.” “My love for Isabelle is honest and true. It is Alice who has been unable to let go!” Isabelle looked at him, her eyes brimming with manufactured tears of gratitude. Overnight, my name was dragged through the mud. Isabelle stopped talking about leaving and moved back into the apartment upstairs with him. I stared at the divorce certificate on the screen, my mind a complete blank. To prove his sincerity when we first married, he had burned our marriage license in front of my parents’ graves. The divorce certificate was a fake. And the company was mine. How dare he give it away? Losing control, I stormed upstairs and found Isabelle just as she was leaving her apartment. “Isabelle, you’ve been lied to! Nathaniel and I were never divorced!” “The company belongs to my family! He’s nothing but a leech, a social climber who married up!” She listened quietly, then leaned against her doorframe with a cold smirk. “I know,” she said. “But I have his heart. That’s all that matters.” “You’re the fool here, Ms. Shenford.” A cold dread washed over me. “That year he drove through a blizzard to be by your side,” she continued, her voice dripping with poison. “You must have been so moved.” “The truth is, he was just horny. I wasn’t around, and he figured the highway tolls were cheaper than hiring a prostitute.” She glanced toward the elevator, a malicious glint in her eye. “And that year during the pandemic, while you were delirious with fever? He and I were upstairs, tangled in the sheets.” “The medicine he brought you was an expired box from my cabinet. He was never sick. Do I need to go on?” The blood drained from my face. She smiled a strange, cruel smile, then suddenly clutched her stomach and collapsed. “My stomach! Help me, it hurts!” Nathaniel appeared like a whirlwind. Veins bulged on his forehead as he ran toward us and kicked me squarely in the abdomen. “Alice! You’ve disappointed me for the last time! If anything happens to Isabelle’s baby, I’ll kill you!” One kick wasn’t enough. He kicked me again and again. His mother ran over, carrying bags of supplements. Seeing Isabelle’s pale face, she started stomping her feet in a panic. “She pushed my grandson! Beat her! Beat her to death!” The sharp, twisting pain in my belly made me break out in a cold sweat. I curled into a ball on the floor, my voice a weak, desperate plea. “Nathaniel… I’m pregnant…” He froze for a second, then kicked me again with even more force. “Impossible. I have a low sperm count. It took Isabelle ten years to conceive this one baby. There’s no way you’re pregnant too.” His mother overheard and shrieked. “What? Son, you have a low sperm count? Then we absolutely can’t let anything happen to Isabelle’s baby!” Isabelle shot a venomous look at my stomach, her face a mask of wounded innocence. “Nathan, I think I should just leave. You got here in time today, but what about next time? I can’t live in constant fear.” Nathaniel’s brow furrowed in conflict. He made a single phone call. They had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. My world shattered. I beat against the barred window, desperate and helpless, the lower half of my body soaked in blood. “Nathaniel, let me out!” “You’ll regret this! My family won’t let you get away with this!” He stood outside the window, glancing impatiently at his watch. “Alice, all your relatives are dead. Do you still think you’re the precious Shenford heiress?” “Isabelle is pregnant now. That’s my first child. I have to be responsible for her.” “I’m about to transfer half of the company’s shares to her, to give her some security.” His tone softened slightly, his expression complex. “I’m sorry you have to stay here until she gives birth. I’ll make it up to you later.” “And don’t mention the ‘Shenford Corporation’ again. The company is mine now. The Shenford family is finished.” I watched until his back disappeared from view. I couldn’t hold on any longer and collapsed to the floor. Nurses rushed in, and seeing the blood, they screamed in terror. “Oh my God! We have an emergency!” In the chaos, I pulled out my phone and made a call. “Come back,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I was wrong.” There was a pause on the other end, then two cold words. “Just wait.” I hung up and smiled, letting the darkness consume me. My signature alone wasn’t enough to transfer the Shenford family shares. It required his signature, too. Nathaniel, I’ve just invited your worst nightmare back into your life.

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I have always been my sister Nora’s living blood bag. Born to save her fragile life, my arms are a map of needle marks. My parents’ apologies and my forced smiles were routine. I believed obedience would someday earn their love. When I won a city drawing competition, Nora tore off her bandages and screamed, “Why couldn’t it have been you?” Mom slapped me, shrieking about my cruelty. Dad carried her out without looking back. At the hospital, I heard the doctor say Nora needed a full-body transfusion to live three more months. I looked at the veins in my arms. Nora, if I apologize with my life, will that be enough? … I gently pushed open the door to the hospital room, and a water glass flew straight at my face. My mother’s eyes were red with fury as she roared, “Who told you to follow us? Get out!” “Haven’t you hurt your sister enough? Do you need her to be dead before you’re satisfied?” The glass hit the bridge of my nose, then shattered on the floor. My vision went black for a few seconds as blood streamed from my nostrils. I swiped at it messily with my sleeve. “I’m sorry, Nora. I just wanted to see you.” My sister’s voice was thick with tears. “See me? See how pathetic I am? See how close I am to dying?” “Get out! You’re not my sister!” “I hate you! I hate you!” She grabbed a pillow and threw it at me, the motion triggering a violent coughing fit. My father’s voice was a low growl. “That’s enough!” He grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room. He pushed me down onto a plastic chair in the hallway and tilted my chin up. The blood from my nose trickled down my throat, the coppery taste making me gag. He patted my back. “Spit it out.” I shook my head, mumbling, “I can’t. The blood is for Nora. I can’t waste it.” Dad looked at my stubborn face and sighed, his expression a complicated mess of emotions. He got some cotton swabs and antiseptic and began cleaning my nose. “Anne, don’t blame your mother. And don’t blame your sister.” “Nora is only ten, but her bones are like glass. The slightest touch can leave her in agony for a whole night.” “Watching her suffer is worse than a knife in your mother’s heart. She didn’t mean to hit you.” I picked at a hole in my pants. I’d tripped and fallen while running to the hospital. “I know, Dad.” “I’ll be good. I won’t make Nora angry.” My father’s hand paused, then he gently ruffled my hair. “Just sit here for a while. You can come back in when your sister has calmed down.” I sat there obediently, watching through the small window as my parents held Nora, murmuring gentle words of comfort. I rubbed my eyes, pretending I didn’t see. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, the door was opening again. Nora was fussing, wanting to go home. “I don’t want to stay here! It stinks like disinfectant, it makes me sick!” Mom immediately agreed. “Okay, okay, honey. We’ll go home. We’ll go home right now.” Dad came out and saw me still sitting there. He paused. “Anne. We’re leaving.” I scrambled to my feet, but my legs had gone numb from sitting for so long, and I crumpled to my knees. No one noticed. I picked myself up. Dad pulled the car around. They gently placed Nora in the back seat, which was padded with a fluffy comforter and soft cushions. It was her special throne, designed to protect her fragile bones. Mom got into the passenger seat. Dad looked from me to Mom. “Maybe you can hold Anne in your lap?” Mom frowned. “Are you crazy?” “What if someone sees and takes a picture? Who’s going to pay the fine for not having her in a car seat?” I quickly ran to the back of the car, stretching on my tiptoes to reach the trunk release. “It’s okay! It’s okay! I have a spot!” The trunk was filled with Nora’s medical supplies. I curled myself into a tight ball and squeezed in, giving Dad a placating smile. “This is great. Really.” Dad sighed. “Well, if you get uncomfortable, you call for me.” From the back seat, Nora’s impatient voice cut through the air. “Can we just go already? I want to go home and lie in my own bed!” The car started. With every turn, every bump, I was thrown around like a bag of trash. A box of medication slammed into my nose, and the sharp pain brought fresh tears to my eyes. I hugged myself tightly, whispering to myself, “Anne, you’re a big girl now. You’re in kindergarten.” “You have to be brave. You can’t cry.” After what felt like an eternity, the car finally stopped. I waited for a long time, but no one came to open the trunk. I managed to crawl over the supplies and through the back seat to get out. Mom saw me and shot me a venomous glare. “If you get Nora’s blankets dirty, you’ll be sorry!” Just then, I remembered something. I turned and ran as fast as I could back to the house. I burst through the door. The shimmering gold award certificate was still lying on the floor. I snatched it up, ran to my room, closed my eyes, and tore it to pieces. Faster and faster, harder and harder, until it was nothing but a pile of confetti that could never be put back together. The heavy stone in my chest felt a little bit lighter. I found the prize-winning drawing. It was of the four of us, our family, standing together in the sun. I traced our smiling faces with my finger, but I couldn’t bring myself to tear it up. I folded it carefully and hid it under my pillow. At dinner, Mom placed a platter of braised beef in front of me. “Eat all of it. Not a single bite left.” The platter was huge, bigger than my face. She turned and went into Nora’s room. I picked up my chopsticks and stuffed the biggest piece I could find into my mouth. But there was so much, my stomach felt like it was going to explode. Dad leaned over, whispering, “If you can’t eat it, don’t force yourself. I’ll help you with a few pieces.” The moment his chopsticks reached for my plate, Mom came out of the room. “David! What are you doing?” She stormed over and slapped my face with her chopsticks. Half my face went numb. I sucked in a sharp breath, the tears welling in my eyes. I fought them back. Crying would only make her angrier. Mom stood with her hands on her hips, scolding me. “So young and already so deceitful?” “You don’t want to eat? If you don’t eat, where will the blood for your sister come from?” Dad stood up. “Why are you hitting her?” “Did she say she wasn’t going to eat? Look at the size of that plate! It’s enough for two grown men!” Tears streamed down Mom’s face as she screamed, “Do you think I want this?” “David, I just want my Nora to live! Is that so wrong?” Dad slumped back into his chair, covering his face with his hands. I watched them fight. I grabbed the remaining beef from the platter and started shoving it into my mouth, not even chewing. The large chunks made me gag, but I forced them down. “Mom, I finished. Please don’t fight.” Mom’s eyes were red. She came over and pulled me into her arms. Her embrace was so warm, so soft. With my cheek pressed against her, the sting on my face seemed to disappear. “Good girl. Anne is a good girl. I know you are.” I nodded fiercely in her arms. After dinner, I finished drawing my blood as usual and prepared to give the bag to my mother. She was on the phone, but she beckoned me over. “Anne, come here. It’s Grandma.” My eyes lit up. Until I was three, my grandma had raised me. After her health declined and she moved back to her hometown, we hadn’t seen each other. “Grandma!” I cried, my nose tingling. Her kind, familiar voice came through the phone. “My sweet Anne, how are you? Are you eating well?” I nodded vigorously. “I’m good! I even won a first-prize award!” The words were out before I could stop them. I regretted them instantly. Beside me, I saw my mother frown. But Grandma laughed happily. “I knew it! Our Anne is the best!” I clutched the receiver. “Grandma, I dreamed about you last night. You were feeding me dumplings, and they were so delicious.” Grandma’s voice grew thick with emotion. “Oh, I miss you too, Anne.” “When I’m feeling a little stronger, I’ll come and visit you.” When the call ended, I had to fight back tears. That night, I slept better than I had in a long time. In my dream, Grandma really did come. She was carrying a steaming bowl of dumplings, smiling as she called my name. “Anne, come and eat.” The next moment, I was jolted awake by a piercing scream. I ran barefoot out of my room. Mom was collapsed on the living room floor, her wails tearing through the house. I ran to her. “Mom, what’s wrong?” She shoved me away. “You have the nerve to ask me what’s wrong?” She lunged at me, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me violently. “Why did you tell your grandma you wanted dumplings?” “Are we starving you? Is there no food in this house? Tell me!” I was too stunned to understand. “I… I just missed her…” A slap landed hard across my face. “You missed her? You missed her so much you killed her!” “If you hadn’t said you wanted dumplings, she wouldn’t have stayed up all night making them for you! She wouldn’t have tried to drive here in the middle of the night! She wouldn’t have gotten into that car accident!” “You’re a curse! A jinx! You took my mother from me!” “Why don’t you just die? Why wasn’t it you who died?” She gave me a final, violent shove. I stumbled backward, the back of my head slamming against the wall. But I couldn’t feel the pain. All I could hear were her words, echoing in my head. Grandma’s dead? I killed Grandma? Dad grabbed my hysterical mother. “Calm down! What does this have to do with Anne?” Mom struggled in his arms, her face a mess of tears and snot. “It has everything to do with her! She’s the one who killed my mom! Let me go! Get her out of this house, I never want to see her again!” Dad half-carried, half-dragged my mother out the door. “Anne, stay here and look after your sister. We’ll be back.” I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor. My face was wet. I reached up and realized I was crying. I didn’t even know when the tears had started. Later, Grandma did come home. She was in a coffin. Mom didn’t cry anymore. She stood in front of me with a bowl of dumplings and began stuffing them into my mouth without a word. Her eyes were fixed on me. “Why aren’t you swallowing?” “You wanted them, didn’t you? Eat!” I chewed mechanically, but before I could swallow one, another was forced in. “Swallow it!” I retched, unable to stop myself. Mom slapped me. “How dare you spit it out? Grandma gave her life for you, and you can’t even treasure the dumplings she made?” She grabbed my hair, forcing my head up to look at her. “How could I have given birth to a monster like you?” Her fists and palms rained down on me. I didn’t try to dodge, just bit my lip until I tasted blood. Dad rushed over and pulled her away. “That’s enough! Calm down!” She struggled in his arms, wailing, “I don’t have a mother anymore!” Dad’s eyes were red, too. He held her, but shot a resentful look over her shoulder at me. I sat on the floor, my body aching all over. But my heart hurt more. It hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. Grandma is gone. I killed Grandma. I covered my mouth, stifling my sobs as a tidal wave of grief washed over me. “Anne.” Nora was standing in her bedroom doorway. I pushed myself up and walked into her room. She closed the door and gently touched my swollen cheek. “Does it hurt?” I nodded. My head felt like it was going to split open. Nora sighed and gave me a piece of candy. “Eat this. It’ll help the pain. I always eat candy when my bones hurt.” “Don’t cry.” “Grandma loved you more than anyone. She’d be sad to see you cry.” I sobbed, unable to form a complete sentence. “It’s all my fault… I killed Grandma…” Nora cut me off. “It’s not your fault. Everyone dies. Some just sooner than later.” I sat beside her, crying until I felt like I had no tears left. Nora spoke again, her voice low. “Anne, if I die, will you cry like this for me?” I was startled and shook my head fiercely. “No! Nora, you’re not going to die!” She looked at me and let out a small, humorless laugh. “Silly girl. Don’t lie to me. I know I’m dying soon.” She paused. “Maybe it’s for the best. When you’re dead, there’s no more pain.” “And Grandma is all alone. It must be lonely for her.” She turned to look at me, her eyes shining. “I’ll go keep her company. Then you won’t have to be sad anymore.” I stared at her, my mind blank. A single thought bloomed in the emptiness: I’m the one who should die. I’m the one who should go with Grandma. If I die, Nora won’t have to. Mom and Dad won’t be sad anymore. And I can be with Grandma again. I stared at the veins on my wrist and whispered to myself, Nora, please don’t hate me anymore. I love you. I won’t let you die. That night, Mom entered Nora’s room with a tray of medicine. Her eyes were still swollen, her voice hoarse. “What are you standing there for? Go get ready.” I started to get up. But Nora stopped me. “Don’t do it.” Mom and I both froze. “Mom, don’t make Anne do it anymore.” “I’m dying anyway. More blood isn’t going to help.” Mom rushed to her bed, wanting to hug her but stopping herself. “No! Nora, Mom won’t let you die!” “I’ll beg the doctors! I’ll get on my knees and beg them! There has to be a way!” Nora didn’t look at her. Her eyes were vacant. “Why is God doing this to me?” “Mom, did I do something terrible in a past life?” Mom’s heart broke. “No! It’s not your fault!” “It’s my fault! I didn’t take good care of you!” “God, take me instead! Please, take my life and spare my daughter!” I stood in the doorway, tears trickling into my mouth, salty and bitter. The thought in my mind grew like a wild vine, choking me until I couldn’t breathe. Late that night, I crept out of bed. The spare blood bags and needles were kept in a cabinet in the living room. I squatted down, searching for them carefully.

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The anesthesia faded, replaced by a sharp, knifing pain in my abdomen. I was bleeding heavily, nurses rushing around me, but my husband Arthur was gone. My newborn daughter gave a faint cry. Arthur’s assistant rushed in, panicked. “Mrs. Ashford, Mr. Ashford sent me to get the young miss. Miss Reed is feeling down, and he thought the baby could cheer her up for a few days.” My voice broke as I grabbed his arm. “Does he know I’m hemorrhaging? That she was premature, in an incubator?” “He knows. He said you’re strong—an heiress. You’ll pull through. Miss Reed’s stream is struggling, and she’s fragile.” I asked if they’d bring my daughter back. His silent pity was answer enough. A final tear fell as I closed my eyes. My child was gone. The door opened. Jessica, my once-best friend, stood there, makeup perfect but eyes red. “Anna, you were always a fool. Next time, don’t fight me for him.” I opened my eyes. It was my engagement day again. This time, I wouldn’t fight. 1 The phantom agony of the C-section was so vivid that a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My last conversation with Jessica from my past life echoed in my mind. As I lay dying, she had come to my bedside, her voice trembling. “Was it worth it, for Arthur? You’ll die, and he’ll be glad for it. But your child will grow up without a mother…” I coughed up blood, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Jess, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t fought you for him back then…” “Don’t,” she cut me off. “I never truly blamed you. I just hate that we let a man destroy our friendship.” As my consciousness faded, I heard Arthur’s voice from the hallway, dripping with a tenderness he never showed me. “Sophie, my love, don’t be sad. I brought the baby. Look how precious she is.” Sophie’s voice was cloyingly sweet. “Arthur, you’re so good to me. Won’t Anna be upset?” “What does she have to be upset about?” Arthur chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. “She was just a fixture, a piece of the family merger. You’re the one I want to spend my life with.” “Now that she’s dead, it’s perfect. The child is yours to raise, and no one can ever keep us apart again.” Only in that final moment did I understand. The man I had loved with my entire being never had a place for me in his heart. I blinked, and the harsh sunlight of my own bedroom assaulted my eyes. I was lying in my own bed. My phone screen was lit up with a message from Jessica: “Anna, the Ashfords just called. They want you at the estate to discuss the engagement. With Arthur.” I shot upright. There was no scar, no wound on my abdomen. The date on my phone was exactly one year before my daughter’s birth. I had been reborn. I snatched the phone and immediately called Jessica. “Jess, I’ll see you at the estate this afternoon. We need to talk.” Her voice had a hopeful lilt. “You’ve finally seen the light? I told you Arthur was no good for you…” “We’ll talk in person.” I ended the call, a cold, burning hatred swirling in my chest. This time, I would not be Arthur Ashford’s stepping stone. And I would never let my child suffer the same fate. That afternoon, the grand living room of the Ashford estate was filled with the powerful heads of our families. The Ashford patriarch sat at the head of the room. Arthur, dressed in an impeccable suit, kept glancing at his phone, obviously texting Sophie. “Anna. Jessica,” the old man began, his voice raspy with age. “You are both fine young women. Whomever the Ashfords join with, it will be an excellent match. Arthur, the choice is yours. Who will it be?” In my past life, I had stepped forward, eagerly offering myself up. Jessica’s eyes had filled with tears, and our friendship shattered that very day. I hesitated, wondering if I should tell her the truth. But then I saw it in her eyes—a flicker of hope, a desperate desire. I knew she hadn’t given up on Arthur. She wanted to gamble on him one last time. Before I could speak, Jessica stood up. “Grandfather, I’d like to try!” Arthur looked up, startled. He clearly hadn’t expected her to be so bold. My heart tightened, but I remained silent. If this was her choice, the only thing I could do was be there to catch her when she finally crashed and burned. The patriarch nodded slowly. “Very well. Since Jessica is willing, then it is settled. The wedding has been in the works for six months. It will take place in three days.” “Wait,” I said suddenly. All eyes turned to me. “Grandfather, I agree to Jessica’s engagement, but on one condition.” 2 The old man stared at me. “Speak.” “Until the wedding, Arthur is not to have any contact with Sophie Reed.” I fixed my gaze on Arthur. “After all, Jessica is his fiancée now. He owes her that basic respect.” Arthur’s face darkened instantly. “Anna, Sophie and I are just friends. Don’t overstep.” “Besides,” he added coolly, “this is between me and Jessica. You have no place interfering.” Jessica, always proud, let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Friends? Arthur, can you honestly say she’s just a friend?” She took a breath, her chin held high. “But it doesn’t matter. I trust you’ll know where your priorities lie. Here’s to the rest of our lives.” She still wouldn’t give up. Looking at her was like looking at a reflection of my past self. A wave of sorrow washed over me. Just then, Arthur’s phone began vibrating frantically. His assistant burst into the room. “Mr. Ashford! It’s terrible! Miss Reed has been in an accident!” Arthur shot to his feet. “What happened?” The assistant’s face was ashen. “She was on her way to the estate when a truck rear-ended her car. She’s being rushed to the hospital now!” “What?” Arthur’s pupils contracted. He spun around and sprinted for the door. “Send me the address!” He didn’t even make it to the threshold before the patriarch’s roar stopped him in his tracks. “Stop right there! We are not finished discussing your wedding. What could possibly be more important than an Ashford marriage? Arthur, it seems you have forgotten your place!” Arthur turned back without hesitation, his knees hitting the marble floor with a sickening thud. “Grandfather, Sophie isn’t some outsider. She’s… she’s carrying my child!” “She’s pregnant. I have to go to her.” The word “friends” now hung in the air, a bitter, mocking lie. The color drained from Jessica’s face. She swayed, and I rushed to steady her. “Jess,” I whispered. “You heard him.” The old man slammed his fist on the table, his face purple with rage. “You insolent boy! This is madness!” But he was talking to an empty room. Arthur was already gone. When we arrived at the hospital, Sophie was lying in bed, a bandage wrapped around her forehead, tears streaming down her face like a tragic heroine. The moment she saw Arthur, she threw herself into his arms. “Arthur, my love, I was so scared! I thought the baby and I were going to die! I can’t believe I’m seeing you again…” “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Arthur held her tight, his eyes overflowing with a raw, protective love he had never once shown me. Then he turned, his gaze falling upon Jessica and me, and his expression turned to ice. “Which one of you did this!” Jessica stared at him, stunned. “What are you talking about?” Sobbing, Sophie pointed a trembling finger at Jessica. “Who else could it be? Before I left, I sent you a message. I told you I was pregnant with Arthur’s child and I wanted to talk. You refused, and you threatened me! You said you wouldn’t let me get away with it!” She held up her phone. On the screen was a message sent to Jessica: “I’m carrying Arthur’s child. We’re truly in love. Please, Miss Lynn, I’m begging you to let us be together…” Jessica’s reply was three simple words: “In your dreams.” I had known Jessica for years. That was the response of a proud woman who had been provoked, nothing more. If she had truly wanted to harm Sophie, she would never have wasted time with a text message. But Arthur wasn’t interested in logic. Jessica’s voice rose, desperate and cracking. “I didn’t send anyone to hit you! I was angry that you taunted me, but why would I ever hurt you or your child? I didn’t even know where you were!” “If it wasn’t you, then who was it?” Arthur’s voice was a low, vicious snarl. “Jessica, I never knew you were so vile. To marry into my family, you’d even resort to murder?” “I didn’t!” Tears streamed down Jessica’s face. “Arthur, please, just believe me this once. We’ve known each other for so long. Don’t you know the kind of person I am?” “I thought I did! That was my mistake!” Arthur roared. “You think I don’t know how jealous you’ve always been of Sophie? Now that she’s carrying my child, you’re desperate to clear the way before the wedding, so you decided to eliminate the ‘problem’!” “Jessica, you disgust me.” A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped her lips. “I disgust you? Arthur, I have loved you for ten years. For you, I fought with my parents, I gave up my scholarship to study abroad, I even turned my back on my best friend. And all I get in return is that I disgust you?” “Yes!” The word was a weapon, sharp and immediate. “Compared to Sophie, you don’t even deserve to carry her shoes. Sophie is gentle and kind and never asks for anything. And you? Your mind is a labyrinth of schemes! If it weren’t for the Lynn family name, I would never have given you a second glance!” “Let me be perfectly clear. Even if we get married, I will never see you as my wife! You are just the public face of this merger. The woman I recognize, the only one in my heart, will always be Sophie.” His words were daggers, each one plunging deeper into Jessica’s heart. Her face turned a deathly gray, and her body trembled uncontrollably. The light in her eyes extinguished, flicker by painful flicker. 3 I held Jessica, my own body trembling with a rage that was both fresh and ancient. “Arthur, you have no proof. How can you accuse her like this? You believe every word Sophie says, but you won’t listen to a single thing from Jessica?” Arthur sneered. “Proof? Sophie’s word is all the proof I need. She would never lie to me. But you, Anna… you and Jessica are two of a kind. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re plotting.” “One of you drugs me, the other fakes a kidnapping. All this drama just to climb into my bed. You two really are best friends, aren’t you? Even your pathetic methods are the same.” The weight of my past life’s misery crashed down on me. I lifted my chin, my voice raw with fury. “I must have been blind to ever love a man like you, someone who can’t tell right from wrong! Arthur Ashford, mark my words. From this day forward, you and I are done.” Sophie, nestled in Arthur’s arms, glanced at us, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. Jessica grabbed my hand, her voice chillingly calm. “It doesn’t matter. Let him think what he wants.” “Anna, let’s go.” Once we were out of the room, Jessica could no longer hold it in. She collapsed against the hallway wall, sobbing uncontrollably. I rubbed her back, my own heart aching with the echoes of my past life’s pain. Her words were choked and broken. “I’m such an idiot. I knew he didn’t love me, but I just had to throw myself at him. And now… now I’m just some cheap, pathetic woman he thinks he can sleep with and discard.” “It’s not your fault,” I whispered. “He’s the one who’s blind.” I took a deep breath. “After all this, do you still want to marry him?” She shook her head, her body limp with defeat. “Anna, now I understand why you… in your last life… I regret it. I don’t want to marry him.” “But I have no way out. If I call off the wedding, my family offends the entire Ashford dynasty. It’s a gamble I can’t afford to take…” I looked down, an idea taking root in my mind. “I have a plan,” I said softly. “Let’s get you home first.” When we got back to her house, Jessica’s parents met us with grim faces. “Jessica, the Ashfords just called,” her father said, his voice heavy. “They said if we don’t issue a public apology, they’re pulling all their investments from Lynn Industries.” “The Ashfords hold all the power. One word from them and we’ll be ruined in this city. I told you not to chase after that boy, but you wouldn’t listen! Now our entire family has to pay for your mistake!” her mother cried, her eyes red and swollen. “What did you do?” Jessica froze, her face a mask of disbelief. “Make me apologize? I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I apologize? If he’s not happy, he can just call off the wedding!” As the words left her mouth, her face went pale. Our eyes met. She understood. Sophie was, on the surface, just an influencer who had clawed her way up from nothing. To high society, she was a nobody, unsuitable for the role of an Ashford wife. No matter how much Arthur despised Jessica, he needed the Lynn family name. He would never let her go. “But we can’t afford to offend them!” her mother pleaded. “Lynn Industries is completely dependent on their investments. If they pull out, we’re finished! You need to call them and apologize right now. It doesn’t matter if it was your fault or not. We have to save the company!” My own parents arrived then, their expressions just as dark. “Anna, the Ashfords pressured us, too. They said if you keep helping Jessica, our family’s projects are finished.” Looking at our desperate parents, Jessica and I exchanged a look of shared defeat. We could sacrifice our own pride, but we couldn’t destroy our families. In the end, we were the ones who had fallen for Arthur. It was our mistake, and we had to be the ones to pay for it. Jessica wiped away her tears, her voice suddenly firm. “I’m not calling off the engagement.” She paused, then added, “But I’m not marrying him, either.” Our parents stared at us, utterly confused. I knew exactly what she meant. “That’s right,” I said. “We can just swap the bride.”

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Because I accidentally stained the dress of my husband’s childhood friend, Nina, he forced me to have ten abortions. To appease Nina, he made me get pregnant and abort, again and again. On the tenth time, I begged him, my voice cracking. “Luke, please, I’m begging you. It’s been nine times. This is your child, too!” Luke looked down at me, his tone as charitable as if he were tossing a coin to a beggar. “I promised Nina I’d punish you ten times. This is the last one. Just bear with it. I’ll let you keep the next one.” I closed my eyes in despair, surrendering to the cold, sterile instruments as they stole the life from my womb once more. Suddenly, a mechanical voice echoed in my mind: [Rebound System activated for host. All damage received will be reflected back upon the perpetrator.] 1 I opened my eyes to a world of blinding white, the familiar, sharp scent of antiseptic filling my senses. Surprisingly, Luke was sitting by my bed, his expression a blank mask. “Scarlett, ten punishments. You should have learned your lesson by now. Be more careful next time. Don’t upset Nina over something so trivial.” “Nina’s coming to see you later,” he continued, his voice casual, as if the ten punishments were as simple as a child being told to write lines. “Don’t you dare give her a sour face. Apologize properly, and we can put this behind us.” But I was the one who had felt the searing pain of my flesh being torn apart ten times. Three years of suppressed grief and indignation surged through me, and my eyes instantly reddened. “I’ve told you a hundred times, she walked into my wine glass. She framed me on purpose! I did nothing wrong. What gives you the right to take away my chance to be a mother, again and again?” Luke’s face darkened, his voice turning to ice. “That’s enough, Scarlett! I’ve seen the security footage. You deliberately tried to embarrass her. And now you’re trying to slander her? You will apologize to Nina today.” Before I could argue, the door opened and Nina walked in. She looked at Luke with a wounded expression. “Luke, maybe we should just forget it. Scarlett seems so unwilling. It’s okay if I’m a little upset, I don’t want to cause trouble between you two.” Luke’s gaze softened as he looked at her, his voice sickeningly sweet. “How could I do that? It breaks my heart to see you upset. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she apologizes to you today.” He turned back to me, his eyes cold. “You should learn from Nina. She’s so much more understanding. If you don’t want another punishment, you’ll apologize to her right now.” It was always like this. Forcing me to apologize to Nina right after an abortion. Even when the security footage had obvious gaps, even when I saw a flicker of doubt in his own eyes, he always chose to believe Nina. When I refused to apologize, he would ignore my fragile state and force himself on me in that very hospital bed. And I, like a fool, believed each time would be the last. I would feel a flicker of joy with each new pregnancy, only to have it crushed into despair. This time, I didn’t scream or fight like before. I turned my head away, my silence a wall of defiance. I could hear the anger in Luke’s breathing. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Scarlett, don’t test my patience. Apologize to Nina now, or you won’t like the consequences.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “And if I don’t?” His grip tightened, his voice merciless. “It seems the punishments haven’t been enough. If you insist on being stubborn, I don’t mind making you lose the chance to be a mother one more time.” My body tensed instinctively. My eyes blazed with fury as I stared him down. “Luke Anderson, you wouldn’t dare.” He smiled, a chilling, predatory grin. “Dare? I’ve dared many times before. And you seem to enjoy it, don’t you?” His hand moved to the waistband of my hospital pants, pulling them down. A wave of goosebumps erupted over my skin. I pressed my hands against him, my voice a raw scream. “Luke, what do you think you’re doing? I’m still bleeding! You can’t do this to me, I’ll get an infection!” The violent movement tore the IV needle from my vein. Blood streamed down the back of my hand, pooling on the floor. He hesitated for a fraction of a second. Nina tugged on his sleeve, her voice a pathetic whimper. “Luke, don’t force her. She’s a lady of high society, she can’t be treated this way. Unlike me, I’m just a nobody. I can’t say a word even when I’m publicly humiliated…” Luke’s face grew even darker. “High society? Can’t be treated this way? I’ll show her what real humiliation is today!” With a savage tug, he ripped my pants down. The cold air hit my exposed skin. I trembled violently, a tidal wave of shame crashing over me. I fought back, gathering all my strength and slapping him hard across the face. “You animal!” The blow stunned him. His face contorted with rage, and he grabbed my collar, shoving me back. My body fell like a leaf, my head smashing against the corner of the bedside cabinet. A sticky, red liquid instantly blinded me. Luke froze, reaching out to help me, but Nina let out a piercing shriek. “Luke, I’m getting dizzy… the blood…” Luke paused for only a moment before sweeping Nina into his arms. He opened his mouth to say something to me, but the door swung open. “What is going on in here?” 2 A nurse rushed in. Seeing my blood-covered face, she immediately started to staunch the bleeding. She shot a disapproving glare at Luke, who was still holding Nina. “The patient just had a termination procedure. She needs to rest. How could you, her husband, let her get hurt? If you’re not here to care for her, then please leave immediately and don’t disturb her recovery!” Luke looked embarrassed, his eyes flickering towards me with a complex expression. But I refused to meet his gaze, sitting silently as the nurse cleaned and bandaged my wound. Luke’s expression hardened. He turned and left, his arm still around Nina. The nurse scowled at their retreating backs before turning to me. “If you don’t want kids, use protection. Even a body made of iron couldn’t withstand this many abortions. The doctor said you’re at high risk for habitual miscarriages now.” I said nothing. The dream of motherhood was already dead to me. Seeing my silence, the nurse sighed. “I know this might sound harsh, but with a husband that irresponsible, why don’t you just divorce him?” Her question was a needle piercing my heart, sending out a thousand tiny splinters of pain. Luke and I met in college. When we started our business, we lived in a basement apartment, eating discarded vegetables we picked up from the market. To secure one deal, I debased myself by walking a client’s dog, cleaning his toilet like a janitor. We couldn’t afford staff, so we were our own delivery drivers. I, weighing less than a hundred pounds, would haul hundred-pound crates, the weight digging bloody welts into my shoulders. I was once forced to drink so much with a client that I fell into a coma from alcohol poisoning for three days and nights. Ten years. We built a company from a few hundred thousand to a publicly traded corporation worth over a hundred million. We had been through so much together. I had tried to divorce him. But our lives were too deeply entangled. Every time, he would cry and beg like a guilty child. He even used his connections to sideline me from the company while I was recovering. If I insisted on a divorce, I would leave with nothing. Time and again, my heart would soften. I would compromise, sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss. I told myself I didn’t leave because of the assets. But a voice deep inside screamed the truth: I couldn’t let go of the love I still had for him. Ten times, Luke. You’ve finally exhausted every last drop of my love. My thoughts were interrupted as another nurse pushed the door open. “Scarlett, was that your husband who just left this room? A chandelier just fell and smashed a huge hole in his head. You should go check on him.” The nurse who had bandaged me smirked. “Serves him right. That’s karma for you!” I was stunned. The system’s cheerful voice rang in my ear: [Congratulations, Host. Damage rebound successful. Please proceed to the next unlock.] I shot up from the bed, a laugh bubbling up from my chest. “Go? Of course, I’m going.” When I reached the emergency room, a doctor was cleaning Luke’s wound. His face and body were covered in blood. Nina sat beside him, her own face splattered with blood, looking pale and terrified. Our eyes met through the glass doors of the ER. The panic in his eyes vanished, replaced by an unreadable emotion. I stared at him, not moving, not speaking. I simply mouthed two words: “Karma.” Then, ignoring the fury blooming on his face, I turned and walked away. 3 I discharged myself that afternoon and went home alone. As I was about to get into the elevator from the underground garage, a hand clamped over my mouth and nose. A sharp, chemical smell filled my lungs, and I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in a sauna. Through the transparent glass wall, a group of spoiled trust-fund kids were watching me with amusement. Luke, his head wrapped in thick gauze, had his arm around Nina’s waist. He was smiling at me. “You said it was karma? Today, I’ll show you what real karma is.” My heart sank. I grabbed my phone to call the police, but the line was dead. The men outside burst into laughter. “Scarlett, are you an idiot? Did you really think we’d let you call for help? We jammed the signal.” “That’s right. How dare you talk back to Luke? Didn’t expect karma to come for you so quickly, did you?” “This is the best-insulated sauna in the city. It can be 100 degrees inside, and you won’t feel a thing out here. Luke said if you don’t behave today, we get to control the temperature!” My blood ran cold. I saw the thermostat: a glaring red 70 degrees Celsius. I stumbled to my feet and pounded on the glass. “Luke, let me out! I just had surgery! I’m weak, I can’t take this heat!” A smug smile played on Luke’s lips. He pulled a blushing Nina closer. He walked to the window, tracing the outline of my pale face on the glass with his fingertip. “Scarlett, it’s been three years. Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?” My thin blouse was already soaked with sweat. The suffocating heat made it hard to breathe. “Luke, it’s been three years. Haven’t you tortured me enough? Have you forgotten what you promised me?” Luke’s expression froze, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. A long time ago, we’d had a child. But due to long-term malnutrition and overwork, I miscarried. Luke had held me then, crying with a helplessness I’d never seen before. “Scarlett, I’m so sorry. You’ve suffered so much with me. We won’t have kids for now. I promise, when we’re better off, I’ll make you the happiest mother in the world.” Because I was allergic to latex, he’d even gotten a vasectomy. He said he never wanted my body to suffer any harm. And yet, for Nina’s baseless accusation, he had used the one thing I wanted most in the world to destroy me completely. Luke glanced at the locked door, about to take a step. Nina’s eyes welled up with tears. “Luke, just let her out. It all happened three years ago. It was humiliating, but I got over it…” Humiliating? It was just a splash of red wine. And that night, Nina had been wearing a burgundy dress. You couldn’t even see the stain unless you were looking for it. No one even mentioned it. What humiliation? I was about to repeat the explanation I’d given for three years, but Luke’s face contorted with rage. His voice seemed to burn right through the glass. “Strip her! Let’s show her what real humiliation is!” He cupped Nina’s face, gently kissing away her tears. The look he gave me was hard as stone. “Turn the temperature up to 80. Add more water. If she doesn’t admit she’s wrong, turn it up to 90. Don’t let her use being weak as an excuse. I asked the doctor. It won’t kill her.” He held Nina in his arms, watching as if it were a movie as several men entered the sauna to tear off my clothes. I fought desperately, clutching my shirt. “Luke!” I screamed at the window. “Make them stop! This is illegal!” RIIIP. My shirt was torn to shreds. A wave of intense heat and shame washed over me. The men laughingly poured water over the hot stones. Billows of steam filled the small room, clogging my nose and mouth. Sweat poured off me, soaking the floor. I gasped for air, each breath drawing the scorching heat deep into my lungs. The metal necklace I wore felt like a branding iron against my skin. My strength gave out. I collapsed to the floor, on the verge of passing out. One of the trust-fund kids looked worriedly at Luke. “Hey, Luke, I think she’s had enough. We don’t want to actually kill her.” Nina peered through the steam. “Scarlett, just apologize. Otherwise, Luke will lose face.” With my last ounce of strength, I forced a single word from my lips: “Never.” Luke sneered and tossed a card on the table. “One million. Turn it up to 100 degrees. She can come out when she apologizes.” The sudden spike in temperature felt like being thrown into a furnace. My entire body was on fire. I couldn’t breathe. System! I screamed in my head. Where the hell are you? The system’s voice trembled slightly. [I’m here. Right on time.]

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In a blizzard on Mount Kestrel. My girlfriend, Isabelle, was wrapped around her “little brother,” Ryan. She roared at me, “Nathan, Ryan is fragile! Take off your suit and give it to him, now!” I stared out at the swirling snow, my heart aching. “Isabelle, it’s negative twenty-six degrees Celsius. Are you seriously telling me to give my gear to Ryan? As a member of the search and rescue team, his own protective suit is more than adequate.” Before I could refuse, Isabelle grabbed the front of my suit and started tearing at it. “The International SAR Competition is in a week! If he gets sick, how is he supposed to compete and win first place?” In the next moment, my protective suit was on her precious Ryan. In the biting -26°C cold, I stood in nothing but a thin sweater, preparing to use the cable to winch the injured climber up the steep cliff face. But then, her “little brother” shoved me off the ledge. As I fell, watching the two of them wrapped in a tight embrace, ascending to the top of the cliff, the last embers of hope in my heart finally died. When I woke up, I calmly handed my resignation letter to Captain Davis. “Captain, here’s my resignation.” He stared at me, stunned. “Nathan, the competition is next month! You were a shoo-in for first place. Why are you quitting now?” I glanced at the taunting video Ryan had sent to my phone and said evenly, “I’m going home to take over the family business. And get married.” 1 My teammate Mike nearly gasped. “You’re getting married? Does Dr. Stone know?” I looked over at Isabelle, who was meticulously fussing over Ryan’s collar, my voice laced with bitterness. “She doesn’t need to know. And please, Captain, don’t tell her for now.” The wind atop Mount Kestrel was vicious, whipping through my visor and making my eyes sting until tears streamed down my face. Three years ago, Isabelle had said, “I’m going to do something meaningful. Are you coming?” For her, I had walked away from the Hawthorne Corporation and followed her to this 4,000-meter peak to become a rescue volunteer. I loved her. I would have followed her through fire and ice. I saw this as my chance. When I first joined the team, I was decked out in designer gear, my hair perfectly styled, my hands unscarred. Everyone dismissed me as a rich kid looking for an adventure and refused to assign me any real tasks. That changed during an avalanche. Without a second thought, I dove in and saved three team members, including Isabelle. From that day on, I was a core part of the team. Even Captain Davis looked at me with newfound respect, calling me the “Guardian of the Mountain.” For three whole years, my hands and arms became a roadmap of scars, my skin grew rough and weathered. I willingly became Isabelle’s dedicated protector. When she was afraid of the dark, I stood guard outside the infirmary all night. When she suffered from severe altitude sickness, I scoured the entire town for fresh fruit. When she was caught in a storm, I risked my life to bring her back. Only I knew that the mountain wasn’t what I was guarding; it was Isabelle. Everyone else just teased me, saying I was a man who chose love over a kingdom. A shout from a teammate snapped me back to the present. “We’ve found an unconscious person! Prepare for rescue!” The team swarmed to the location. Halfway down a steep slope, a figure was barely visible, buried in a snowdrift next to a crumpled parachute. Captain Davis immediately prepped the winch cable. “Nathan, you’re the most experienced. You go.” I nodded grimly, taking the cable to secure it to my harness. Suddenly, Isabelle rushed forward and snatched it from my hands. “Captain, let Ryan do it! The competition is next month, he needs the experience.” Before I could protest, she had already fastened the cable around Ryan’s waist. Then, to my utter shock, she wrapped her arms around him, using the same cable to bind them tightly together. “Ryan, don’t be afraid. You can do this. I’m a doctor, I’ll keep you safe.” Captain Davis’s face darkened. “Dr. Stone, don’t be reckless! That cable is only rated for one person’s weight. What you’re doing is incredibly dangerous!” Isabelle gazed tenderly at Ryan, who was pressed against her. “That’s exactly why I can’t let him go down alone.” She turned to the captain, her voice urgent. “If anything happens, I take full responsibility. I’m a doctor, I know how to handle an emergency. Lower the rope!” She held Ryan tight as they began their descent down the cliffside. Before I could even shout a warning, there was a loud SNAP. The carabiner broke, and they both went tumbling down the slope. 2 There was no time for explanations. I grabbed another cable, secured the harness in three seconds flat, and leaped over the edge. A dozen seconds later, I landed steadily on the narrow ledge. Nearby, Isabelle was cradling an unconscious Ryan, screaming his name. I let out a cold, humorless laugh, not bothering to waste my breath scolding them for their stupidity. I quickly unhooked my safety carabiner and handed it to her. “Isabelle, attach this to him.” As she took the cable, her eyes fell on my thick, windproof suit. “Nathan, take off your suit and put it on Ryan. The rope is rough, it’ll scratch him.” I stared at her in disbelief. On Mount Kestrel, the temperature was a constant twenty-something degrees below zero. Did she have any idea what she was asking? I would freeze solid in under half an hour. Seeing my hesitation, she grew agitated. “Nathan, as an elite rescue operator, saving lives is your duty. Why are you being so selfish? If anything happens to Ryan because of this delay, I will never forgive you.” As she finished speaking, Ryan’s eyes fluttered open. He saw the cold fury on my face and struggled to sit up. “I’m sorry, Nathan… Isabelle is just worried about me. Please don’t be angry…” Isabelle cut him off immediately. “You don’t need to apologize. This is his fault for being selfish. It has nothing to do with you.” Their words were a stake through my heart. The love I had chased for three years was nothing but a joke. Three days ago, Isabelle had a cold. I’d gone to town to pick up some imported medicine that had been rush-delivered for her. On my way back, I saw them. Isabelle and Ryan, locked in a passionate kiss. “Isabelle, I’m not good enough for you,” he’d said. “Go back to the city. Don’t stay in this miserable place.” She had kissed him back fiercely, her voice thick with emotion. “Ryan, as long as I can be with you, I’ll endure any hardship. Just wait a little longer. My family will agree to let us get married.” The snow had been heavy that night, so heavy that the ginger soup I was carrying for her had turned cold in my hands. I stood there in the wind, feeling like the world’s biggest fool. So that was it. The reason Isabelle gave up her comfortable life and came to this godforsaken mountain wasn’t for some noble medical mission. It was for Ryan. The “meaningful thing” she wanted to do was defy her family for a love that crossed class divides. My three years of devotion had been nothing more than the pathetic fawning of her personal lapdog. The perfect couple the team always teased us about was a figment of my one-sided imagination. I was just the backup plan. The convenient shield to appease her family and keep up appearances. A woman like that didn’t deserve my heart. Suddenly, Isabelle lunged at me, grabbing my zipper and tearing it down. “Nathan, I told you to give Ryan your suit! Are you deaf? He has the international competition in a few days! How can he win if he gets sick?” 3 As the zipper gave way, a blast of arctic wind seared my chest, my skin erupting in a thousand icy needles. I tried to pull the suit closed, but the ledge was too narrow for more than two people. I didn’t dare make any sudden moves, terrified she would fall into the abyss below. She ripped and tore at the suit until, in less than a minute, it was off me. Isabelle immediately wrapped it around Ryan, carefully tightening the collar for him. “Ryan, I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” When she turned back to me, her eyes were brimming with impatience. “Stop being so dramatic. I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about. Freezing for half an hour won’t kill you. As soon as I get Ryan up, I’ll come right back for you. Just be strong. You’ll get through it.” My body was wracked with shivers. I pulled the thick sheepskin scarf from my neck and pressed it to my mouth and nose, trying to avoid inhaling the frigid air. During our training, the instructor had specifically warned us that inhaling extremely cold air could cause searing pain, internal bleeding, and unconsciousness. Protecting your mouth and nose was critical. As if a lightbulb went off in her head, Isabelle reached out, snatched the scarf from my face, and quickly wrapped it around Ryan’s neck. “Give this to Ryan, too. See? You’re fine. Stop being so delicate. Ryan just woke up from being unconscious. His body is weak. A little cold air could make him seriously ill.” Her self-righteousness was colder than the air itself. My scarf was custom-made from the finest wool. My suit was a specially reinforced, imported model. And now, they were both offerings to her precious little lover. A voice crackled over the radio from above, asking for a status report. Isabelle answered before I could get a word in. “Everything’s fine! Ryan was slightly injured while saving the victim. I’m sending him up now.” She began securing my cable to Ryan’s harness. My lips were trembling so hard I could barely speak. “Isabelle, get the victim. He could have been unconscious for days.” She shot a disgusted look at the motionless figure nearby. “He was showing off, climbing to a place like this. He can wait. Saving Ryan is more important.” I was seething. “Isabelle, have you forgotten the first rule of this team? Ryan is conscious and his vitals are stable. Look at the victim! His face is already turning gray!” She glared back at me. “If he dies, it’s his own fault! We can’t let Ryan get sick just for him!” As we argued, Ryan made a show of undoing the harness. “Nathan, please don’t fight with Isabelle. I know you don’t like me… you don’t want me to compete in the competition.” He grabbed the cable and tried to shove it into my hands. Just as I reached for it, a powerful shove sent me stumbling backward. In that split second, a terrible realization flashed through my mind. My body went weightless, and I was falling, tumbling into the endless snowfields below.

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The night before my wedding, I found my sister in bed with my fiancé. In her panic, she fell and miscarried. And just like that, I was painted as the cruel, heartless villain. “You’ve done wrong, and now you must be punished.” My husband-to-be, in league with my own parents, forced me to sign away our marriage and then personally drove me to a psychiatric facility. When I finally got out, it was just in time for their wedding. I didn’t crash the reception and cause a scene, as everyone expected. Instead, I boarded a plane and vanished from their lives completely. … Eight years later. I saw Ashton Blackwood again, standing outside the emergency room. A sudden, jarring reunion. He was in a frantic rush, getting his pregnant wife checked in. The moment I looked up to begin the consultation, our eyes met. “Nora?” He froze, his gaze instinctively dropping to my wrist, to the jagged, faded scar that marred the skin. “Your scar…” he started, his voice catching in his throat. He seemed desperate to say more, but the icy wall in my expression made him swallow the words. “Unauthorized personnel, please step aside.” My tone was flat, clinical, as if we were complete strangers. After the procedure, I calmly explained the restrictions for her recovery and medication. Ashton pretended to listen, but his eyes were adrift, constantly returning to me. Finally, he asked a question that was miles over the line. “Why didn’t you ever come back home? We searched for you for a long time.” Just then, a small, clear voice cut through the tension. “Mommy, when are we eating? Andy is hungry.” Ashton’s head snapped toward the sound, his eyes landing on a small face that was a startling echo of his own. “That child… is he…?” A nurse came over just then, asking for my signature on a chart. I gave Ashton a curt nod, took my son’s hand, and turned to leave without another word. “Mommy, who was that man?” my son asked, tilting his head back to look up at me with curious eyes. My voice was devoid of any emotion. “A patient’s family.” “But… it looked like he was about to cry. He just kept staring at us.” I didn’t break my stride. “You saw wrong.” My neighbor, Mrs. Gable, who usually watched Andy for me, had an emergency, which is why I’d had to bring him to work. Thankfully, she had just called to say she was on her way. That night, a soft autumn rain began to fall outside my window. I finished my work, my body aching with exhaustion, and walked back to my office. I never expected to find Ashton waiting there. My brow furrowed. “Mr. Blackwood. Is there something you need?” My cold formality seemed to catch him off guard. “There’s no need for concern, Mr. Blackwood. Your wife’s condition is not serious. Just ensure she attends her follow-up appointments.” I spoke to him as I would any other stranger. Perhaps the words “your wife” stung him. I could see a tempest of emotions swirling behind his gaze. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a dry, raspy, “…Thank you.” “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving. The doctor on call can assist you with any further questions.” I gave him a slight nod and walked away. As I passed the security desk, the guard, a friendly man I knew well, leaned out. “Nora, wasn’t that Mr. Blackwood? The one with the fancy car? He looks like a real big shot.” I nodded. “Yes.” “Making that kind of money so young, must be nice,” he mused. “I hear he and his wife are inseparable. Someone said they came to the coast to pray for the health of their unborn baby.” His voice was filled with the average person’s fascination with the lives of the wealthy. I didn’t respond. Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood were inseparable now. And his wife, Lila, had a husband who adored her, parents who doted on her, and a child on the way. She had everything that was once supposed to be mine. And almost no one remembered how she got it. My phone vibrated, pulling me from my thoughts. [Sorry, something came up with a project. I’ll be a little late to pick you up.] A small smile touched my lips as my fingers danced across the screen. [Focus on your work. I can get home myself.] The reply was almost instant. [Be safe. Text me when you get home.] Tucking my phone away, I noticed the rain was coming down harder, with no sign of letting up. I waited for what felt like an eternity, but the ride-share app just kept spinning, no cars available. Honk. A car horn blared behind me. A black Bentley Mulsanne pulled up to the curb. I knew that car. The license plate was Lila’s birthday. Mine was the very next day. The passenger window rolled down, revealing Ashton’s profile. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.” Glancing at the still-loading icon on my phone, I hesitated for only a second before pulling open the back door and sliding in, giving him the address of my apartment complex. I was bone-tired, and the damp weather was making the old injuries in my wrist and abdomen ache with a dull, persistent throb. A free ride was a free ride. No point in refusing. Ashton was a creature of habit, almost obsessively so. In our time together, I wasn’t even allowed to place a new air freshener in the car without his permission. But now… The car was filled with the cool, woody scent of sandalwood, Lila’s favorite. A minimalist Nordic figurine, her preferred style, sat on the dashboard. Seeing me in the back seat, Ashton gave a bitter smile. “So you’re really treating me like a chauffeur?” “I just don’t want to give your wife the wrong idea,” I said, my voice cool. The phrase “your wife” acted like a kill switch, strangling any words he might have been about to say. The air in the car grew heavy and suffocating. I turned my head to watch the city lights blur past the window, letting the silence hang. The streaking lights pulled my mind back eight years, to the darkest day of my life. It was the day before Ashton and I were supposed to get married. I was brimming with excitement, dreaming of becoming his wife. I never imagined that when I pushed open the door to our home, I would walk in on him and my sister, Lila. Entangled. In our wedding suite. On our wedding bed. They were so lost in each other that they didn’t notice me standing in the doorway for a long, silent moment. Not until Lila’s eyes finally found mine. “Nora!” she shrieked, her eyes wide with shock. I thought that being caught red-handed would make Ashton panic, or at least show a flicker of shame. He did neither. The very first thing he did was pull the blanket up, covering the incriminating marks on Lila’s body. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice laced with the annoyance of someone whose private moment had been interrupted. Back then, I had no tolerance for betrayal. In that single instant, humiliation and rage consumed me. I became a screaming madwoman, hurling every vicious word I could think of at them, swiping everything I could reach off the dressers and tables. The room was a disaster. Lila cowered behind Ashton, trembling. “Nora, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen. Ashton and I… we’re in love.” Her voice was a choked sob, her eyes glistening like a white lily beaten down by a storm, the picture of pitiable innocence. A far cry from the seductive woman with bedroom eyes I had seen moments before. Ashton shielded her with his body, his glare a condemnation. “You’re scaring her! Look at yourself, you’re acting like a shrew!” He was right. I felt like a monster. I took their picture and blasted it across social media and our family group chat. I wanted everyone to see their disgusting, ugly truth. The photo had barely been up for a minute before my parents called. “Nora, have you lost your mind?!” “Take that down right now! If that gets out, how is Lila supposed to face anyone?” My parents had always favored Lila. She was sickly as a child, in and out of hospitals, so they gave her everything she ever wanted, spoiling her rotten. And I, as the older sister, was expected to put her first, to yield to her in everything, without question. My birthday was only a day after hers, so my parents forced me to celebrate mine early, combining it with hers. But at every party, Lila was always the star. I just never imagined their favoritism would extend to something as sordid as this. “You and Ashton should get a divorce.” My sister was sleeping with my fiancé. And instead of reprimanding her, my parents were telling me to step aside and let them be together. “Why?!” I screamed, the injustice a physical weight on my chest. It was her mistake, so why was I the one who had to give up my life? Their hearts were hopelessly biased. My chest felt like it was being crushed by a boulder, each breath a new wave of pain. “Lila is your sister. As the older one, you should give way to her,” my father said, his voice thick with annoyance, as if my defiance was a personal inconvenience. I instinctively looked at Ashton, the man who had sworn he loved me more than life itself. He just stood there, watching it all unfold with a cold detachment, offering no explanation. Lila was nestled safely in his arms. “Nora, he doesn’t love you anymore,” she whimpered. “We’re the ones in love. Please, just let us be together, okay?” “You still have the nerve to call him your ‘brother-in-law’?” I spat. “Have you no shame?” Blinded by rage, I lunged forward and slapped her across the face. In the ensuing chaos, Lila lost her footing and fell to the floor with a sharp cry. “Ah!” She let out a pained gasp, her face turning chalk-white as she clutched her stomach. “Lila!” Ashton’s expression changed instantly. “My stomach… it hurts so much,” she moaned, her voice trembling as the color drained from her face. Ashton swept her into his arms and raced for the hospital, pausing only to throw a look of pure hatred over his shoulder at me. But I saw it clearly. She had lost her balance on her own. It was only then that I understood. They hadn’t just started. They had been sneaking around for a long time, long enough for a child to have been conceived. A few hours later, the doctors confirmed the baby was lost. “Are you happy now?” my mother hissed, her body shaking with rage as she slapped me hard across the face. My cheek went numb, a loud ringing filling my ears. But no physical pain could compare to the agony tearing my heart apart. Everyone blamed me for Lila losing her baby. They demanded I get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness. Of course, I refused. The price of my defiance was steep. Ashton and my parents conspired, claiming I was “emotionally unstable with violent tendencies,” and had me forcibly committed to a remote psychiatric facility. “You did wrong, so you must be punished,” Ashton had said. “When you’ve had time to think about what you did and realize your mistake, we’ll come get you.” A cold, bitter laugh rose in my throat. Come back? Where was there to come back to? The moment I saw them together, I had already lost my place in the world. The days in that facility were a sunless blur. By the time my body was a wreck and my spirit was shattered, I was rushed to a hospital on the brink of death. While I was fighting for my life, my husband and my parents were on a vacation abroad with my sister, helping her “relax and recover.” It took a grueling eight-hour surgery to pull me back from the edge. When Ashton and my parents finally arrived at the hospital, I was already in a regular room. But as he looked at my skeletal frame, at the hollowed-out stranger in the hospital bed, the first words out of Ashton’s mouth were: “Do you know what you did wrong now?” His voice was as cold and hard as stone. “And don’t forget you still owe Lila an apology. You made her lose her child, and she’s still not over it, she almost fell into a depression. You should use this time to think about how you’re going to make it up to her.” Sorrow deeper than death washed over me. If my heart had died when they sent me to that facility, Ashton’s words now ground it into dust. In that moment, I didn’t even have the strength left to argue. My voice was an empty whisper, devoid of any feeling. “I know. I was wrong.” I was wrong. Wrong to have been so blind, to have loved a man as cruel and heartless as Ashton. Wrong to have foolishly hoped for affection from parents who so clearly played favorites. Ashton kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, opening his mouth to speak several times, then closing it again. The silence stretched until the car came to a smooth stop in front of my building. I got out and offered a polite, detached thank you. “Thanks for the ride.” Just as I turned to leave, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Nora!” I turned back, waiting. “Why are you living in a place like this?” he asked, his eyes scanning the run-down complex. “These past years… have they been hard for you?” The streetlights were dim, casting long shadows on the peeling paint of the old buildings. Everything looked worn and tired. His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice hoarse. “If you need help…” “That won’t be necessary. I’m doing very well, but thank you for your concern.” I didn’t understand. How could the man who so callously threw me into the abyss now put on this act of deep, heartfelt concern? Ashton didn’t believe me, convinced I was just being stubborn. “Nora, you don’t have to lie to me. I can see it.” “I know you resent me,” he continued, “but even if we’re not together, we’re still family.” A small, humorless laugh escaped my lips. My expression was distant, almost bored. “You must be joking, Mr. Blackwood.” From the day I chose to leave, I no longer had a family. I would never forget those lonely days recovering in the hospital. After that first day, no one ever came to visit again. It was through the news on my phone that I learned the Blackwood and Miller families were busy planning a lavish wedding for Ashton and Lila. My parents, to prevent me from causing any trouble, had even instructed the hospital to keep me under strict watch. But they all underestimated me. On their wedding day, I didn’t show up to make a scene. I simply boarded a plane and flew away. As the plane took off, the night sky over the entire city of Crestwood was lit up by a spectacular fireworks display, celebrating their union. I thought I would never have to cross paths with those people again. But life is unpredictable. Fate, it seems, has a twisted sense of humor. “Nora, do you really hate me that much? Between us…” Ashton’s voice was urgent, his emotions fraying. I cut him off before he could finish. “There is no ‘us.’ That ended eight years ago.” Hate? In the beginning, right after I left, of course I hated him. But eight years is a long time. People change. The entanglements with Ashton and my family were burdens I had long since set down. Ashton’s voice was raw. “But that boy…” I knew it. I knew that after seeing Andy, his mind would start racing. “Andy has nothing to do with you.” Ashton and I… we were supposed to have a child. I had planned to tell him on our wedding day, a joyful surprise. Instead, he gave me a much bigger, much more horrifying “surprise.” The stay in the facility left me with a permanent scar on my wrist. The nerve damage was so severe that for a time, I couldn’t even use my right hand properly. But far more devastating was the internal trauma, the damage to my abdomen. It cost me my child. “Impossible! Don’t lie to me, he looks so much like me…” Ashton was convinced, refusing to believe my words. I cut him off again, my voice sharp. “Believe what you want, but the child is not yours. So please, stay out of our lives.” “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with a pain he could no longer suppress. “Back then… I’m so sorry for what I did to you.” He was about to say more when a warm, kind voice called out from behind me. “Nora, dear, why are you just standing out here? Come on up.” It was Mrs. Gable. She’d gotten worried when I didn’t come home and had come down to check on me. She looked at the emotionally overwrought Ashton with a puzzled expression. “And who is this?” “A patient’s family member. He gave me a ride home.” I turned back to him. “Thank you for the lift. I have a busy day tomorrow. Goodnight.” I gave a slight nod, then went to Mrs. Gable, linking my arm through hers as we walked into the building. “What kept you so late again today?” she chided gently. “I told you, I’m perfectly fine. You don’t need to keep checking on me.” “I worry about you living alone, especially since you won’t move in with me,” I said, leaning my head on her shoulder like a child. This playful, carefree version of me was something Ashton hadn’t seen in eight long years. A deep, agonizing pain flickered in his eyes. Eight years ago, when I fled Crestwood, I arrived in this small coastal city, Port Blossom, a broken woman. Mrs. Gable took me in when I was at my lowest. She gave me a warmth and kindness I hadn’t felt in years, and with it, the courage to start living again. I don’t know when Ashton finally left. Frankly, I didn’t care. I only knew that when I left for work the next morning, the spot where his car had been parked was littered with cigarette butts.

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I was at Owen’s place to drop off some hangover soup. His mother pulled me aside, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “The girl who brought him home last night… she slept in the guest room. Don’t get the wrong idea.” I asked without thinking, “What idea would I get? That she’s still too drunk for me to look after her?” The question hung in the air, followed by a dead, unnerving silence. Just then, the guest room door creaked open. A girl in Owen’s button-down shirt emerged, rubbing her eyes. A fresh, angry-red mark bloomed on her collarbone, impossible to miss. It was Owen who broke the silence, his voice rough with sleep. “Paige, let me explain.” I nodded, setting the thermos down on the console table. “Explain what? That the shirt fits her perfectly?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “Or do you need me to run out and buy her a woman’s blouse to change into?” This time, the color drained completely from Owen’s face. 1 The moment the car door clicked shut, Owen’s hand shot out to block it. “Paige, it’s not what you think.” I relaxed my grip on the steering wheel and turned to look at him. The early morning light slanted through the windshield, illuminating the dark circles under his eyes. He was wearing the shirt the girl had just taken off, and the collar still carried the faint scent of a perfume that wasn’t mine. “What is it I think, Owen?” I asked evenly. “That you two had a drunken one-night stand? That she wore your shirt on purpose to provoke me? Or that you called me over specifically to witness this little drama?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It was the project wrap party last night. Nina drank too much, got sick all over herself. I couldn’t just let her sleep in dirty clothes.” “So you lent her your shirt,” I finished for him. “And the mark on her collarbone? Did you lend her that, too?” His pupils contracted, a flicker of involuntary panic. It was an interesting reaction. I’d known him for twelve years, been with him for seven. I knew what every single one of his micro-expressions meant. That was the instinctual fear of a lie being exposed. He recovered quickly. “She must have done that herself. Paige, can you stop being so sensitive? We’re about to get married.” “That’s right. The wedding’s next month,” I said with a thin smile, starting the car. “Which is why I’m so curious to know why my fiancé let another woman walk out of our future home wearing his shirt.” As I drove out of the complex, I caught a glimpse of Nina in the rearview mirror, standing on the balcony. She was wearing my slippers. And she waved at me. 2 Owen and I met in college. Sophomore year, our club went on a camping trip. The zipper on my tent broke, and I was left standing in the middle of a dark, cold mountain field, hugging my sleeping bag, completely lost. He gave me his tent and sat by the campfire all night himself. When I crawled out at dawn, his shoulders were damp with dew, and tiny droplets clung to his eyelashes. The feeling that rushed through me in that moment was like a mountain spring bursting forth, clear and overwhelming. Later, he told me, “Paige, holding that sleeping bag, you looked like a little lost animal.” He said, “I couldn’t just leave you there.” We dated for three years. He went to grad school; I started working. He started his PhD; I got a promotion. The day he got his official offer from the research institute last year, his colleagues egged him on until he got down on one knee and proposed with the pull-tab from a soda can. “When I have the money, I’ll get you a real one,” he’d said, his eyes shining. I said yes. I never replaced the ring. It’s still that same pull-tab. I threaded it onto a thin chain and have worn it around my neck, close to my heart, for over three hundred days. Until last week, when I saw his purchase history on his phone. A diamond ring from Cartier. A woman’s ring. The status said, “Delivered.” The shipping address was not our home. 3 Proposals and mock-ups were spread all over the conference table at the wedding planner’s office. The planner was in full swing. “For the main color scheme, are we thinking champagne gold or a dusty blue? Dr. Reed, which do you prefer?” Owen was scrolling through his phone, distracted. “Either is fine.” I took the lookbook and pointed to a design. “This one. The gardenia theme. Gardenias were the first flowers he ever gave me.” Owen finally glanced up at me, his expression complicated. After the meeting, he went to get the car. I was waiting on the curb when my phone buzzed. A photo from an unknown number. The second I opened it, my fingers went numb. In the picture, Owen was standing at a jewelry store counter, leaning forward slightly to help a girl try on a ring. The diamond refracted a cold, hard light. He looked just as serious as he had when he’d proposed to me with a pull-tab. The girl’s profile was bright and lovely. It was Nina. A second message followed immediately. [He said this style really suits my hand. What do you think, Paige?] I looked up to see Owen’s car pulling up. He rolled down the window, his tone normal. “Hop in. I’ll take you back to the office.” I deleted the photo and got in. As I fastened my seatbelt, I asked softly, “Owen, if you met someone you liked more, would you tell me?” He frowned. “What’s this about now?” “Just asking.” The car merged into traffic, and the Bluetooth automatically connected to his phone. A series of message alerts chimed, and he fumbled to silence it, accidentally hitting play instead. Nina’s saccharine voice filled the car. “Thanks again for taking care of me last night! Oh, and my parents saw the ring. They absolutely love the style you picked out—” Owen slammed the off button. After a long, heavy silence, he said in a low voice, “Paige, that was a wedding anniversary gift for her parents. Her boyfriend cheated on her, and she asked me to help her pick out a ring to pretend she still had someone who cared.” “So you bought it on your account?” “She just started working. She doesn’t have that kind of money saved up.” I stared out the window at the morning rush hour, a sea of red taillights. This city has eight million cars and three thousand accidents a day, and thirty percent of them are caused by distracted driving. “Owen, pull over. I’ll take the subway,” I said. “What are you starting now?” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “I’m not starting anything. I just had a sudden thought that your passenger seat might have a new occupant very soon.” 4 I couldn’t sleep. At three in the morning, I got up for a glass of water. As I passed the study, I saw a sliver of light from under the door. Owen was still working. The tapping of the keyboard was rhythmic and urgent. In the two years since he’d finished his PhD and joined the institute, he had gotten busier and busier. Overtime was his new normal. I leaned against the doorframe, water glass in hand, and watched his focused profile. I used to love this version of him. Smart, dedicated, full of ideals. He used to say he wanted to develop a more efficient wastewater treatment technology to clean up the polluted river in his hometown. When he said that, we were crammed onto the tiny balcony of our rented apartment, sharing a bowl of instant noodles. The light in his eyes was brighter than any star. But now, that light seemed to be shining somewhere else. “Still up?” he asked, sensing me without turning around. “Thirsty.” I walked in and placed the glass by his hand, my eyes catching the open message window on his screen. I wasn’t the chat pinned to the top. The profile picture was the back of a girl in a lab coat. The contact name read: Nina – Environmental Engineering. The last message was from twenty minutes ago. Nina: [Senior, I double-checked the data on page three of the proposal, and it’s still not adding up. Could you maybe video call and walk me through it?] Owen: [You’re still up this late?] Nina: [Well, you’re not sleeping either. It’s a little scary being home alone. You could just leave the video on to keep me company.] He hadn’t replied to that one. But scrolling up, I saw that last Wednesday at 1 a.m., she’d made the same request, and he had agreed. The chat history included a screenshot from Nina. The video call had lasted two hours and forty-seven minutes. My voice was very quiet. “Owen, do you remember last month when I had a fever of 102? I called you and asked if you could come home early.” His fingers paused on the keyboard. “You said you were in the middle of a critical project phase and couldn’t get away. In the end, my neighbor had to take me to the hospital. I was in the ER on an IV until four in the morning. You got home from work, saw the empty bed, and only then did it occur to you to ask where I was.” He turned around, his brow furrowed. “Paige, are we dredging up the past now?” I shook my head. “It’s not the past. It’s the sudden realization that you do have time. You’re just not willing to give it to me anymore.” The fluorescent light in the study was stark, making his face look sallow. We stared at each other across the chasm of seven years. Between us lay countless nights he’d come home late, countless times I’d waited, swallowing the words I wanted to say. And the image of that girl, walking out of our guest room in his shirt. “Nina is just a colleague,” he finally said, his voice weary. “She’s new to the institute, there’s a lot she doesn’t know. I’m her senior, I’m just mentoring her.” “Does mentoring require house calls? Video calls at three in the morning?” “That was a special situation—” I cut him off. “Owen, that’s what my father used to say.” He froze. “He’d say he was working late, that it was a business dinner, that his female colleague was just for work,” I said, a bitter laugh escaping me as tears welled in my eyes. “Then my mom waited outside a hotel until dawn and saw him walk out with his arm around that ‘just a colleague.’ She was wearing his jacket. Just like Nina was wearing your shirt.” “Don’t compare me to your father!” he snapped, jumping to his feet. “Then stop acting like him!” The shout exploded in the study, then quickly died, leaving a ringing silence. We were like two trapped animals, facing off in the ruins of our seven-year relationship. Finally, he softened. He reached out to touch my face. “Paige, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. But you’re really overthinking this. Nina and I—” I took a step back, avoiding his hand. “The wedding,” I heard myself say. “Let’s postpone it.” 5 The decision to postpone the wedding dropped like a bomb on both our families. My mom drove up from her town that night, carrying bags of home-cooked food and groceries, saying she needed to “help Owen get his strength back.” She had no idea it wasn’t his body that needed fixing, but his straying heart. “Couples shouldn’t let the sun go down on their anger,” she chattered while stuffing cured meats into our fridge. “Owen is such a good kid. A respectable job, and he’s so good to you. He’s just been a bit busy lately. You need to be more understanding.” I didn’t say anything. I just stared at the pile of wedding invitations on the coffee table. Champagne gold cardstock, silver foil lettering. My name and Owen’s, side by side, looking like a perfect match. We had picked out the design together three months ago. He said he wanted the best, that the cost didn’t matter. He’d held me close that day, his chin resting on the top of my head, his voice soft. “Paige, I’m going to give you a wedding you’ll remember for the rest of your life.” The invitations were still here. The man who said those words was long gone. Owen’s mother called, too, her tone cautious. “Paige, dear, I shouldn’t have said anything the other day. The truth is… that Nina girl has had a tough life. Her parents are divorced, she’s all alone out here trying to make it. Owen just has a soft heart. He was only looking out for her because he felt sorry for her.” “Ma’am,” I asked, “if I had been the one to walk out of your guest room that morning, wearing another man’s shirt, would you also think he was just ‘looking out for me’?” The line went silent for a long time, then ended with a sigh. After hanging up, I opened Nina’s social media profile. She had posted a few photos from the institute’s annual party. In one of them, she and Owen were standing side-by-side on stage, accepting an award. She was beaming, and Owen was looking at her, his head turned slightly, a light in his eyes I hadn’t seen in a very long time. [Got an award with my senior! Thanks for all your guidance, looking forward to the future!] In the comments from mutual friends, people were teasing them. [The golden couple!] [When’s the wedding?] She replied with a blushing emoji. I turned off my phone and walked into the bathroom. The woman in the mirror had dark circles under her eyes and a downturned mouth. She looked like a bitter shrew. No wonder Owen was tired of me. Who would want a partner so devoid of life? But I used to laugh and joke. In college, I was on the debate team. Owen came to every single one of my matches, sitting in the front row holding a glowing sign that said “PAIGE FOR THE WIN.” When I won, he’d rush onto the stage, pick me up, and spin me around, shouting to the cheering crowd, “That’s my girlfriend! Isn’t she amazing?” The pride in his eyes back then was real. When did it all change? Maybe it started when he graduated with his PhD and joined that top-tier institute. He was suddenly surrounded by Ivy League alumni and post-docs, discussing international projects. And me? I had a bachelor’s from a state school and worked as an administrator at a small company, dealing with invoices and meeting minutes. We had less and less to talk about. He’d tell me about the lab’s latest breakthrough, and it would all go over my head. I’d tell him about office gossip, and he’d be looking down, texting on his phone. Eventually, he stopped talking about work, and I stopped sharing my life. We became like two strangers sharing an apartment, sleeping in the same bed with a galaxy between us. 6 That weekend, for the first time in ages, Owen didn’t have to work. He said he’d booked a table at a nice restaurant. He wanted to talk. I picked out a dress and put on some makeup, trying to reclaim some semblance of a date night. He had chosen a French restaurant where dinner cost a week’s salary. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the river, the lights of passing cruise ships sparkling on the water. As the waiter poured the wine, Owen’s phone screen lit up, then went dark, then lit up again. “Trouble at the lab?” I asked. He silenced the call and placed his phone face down on the table. “It’s nothing. Tonight is just for you.” By the third course, his phone started vibrating again. This time it was a call. The name “Nina” was clearly visible on the screen. Owen glanced at me and declined it. I sliced into my foie gras. “You should get that. It might be an emergency.” “It’s not. Tonight we agreed—” Before he could finish, his phone rang again. Nina’s voice, choked with sobs, came through the speaker. “Senior… my mom’s in the ICU… I’m at the hospital, I’m so scared… can you please come… please?” Owen’s face changed. “Which hospital? I’m on my way.” After hanging up, he looked at me. His eyes were full of guilt, but something else, too: urgency. “Paige, Nina’s mom had a sudden heart attack. She’s in critical condition. She doesn’t have any family here, I…” I put down my fork and knife. “Go. It’s a matter of life and death.” He looked relieved. He stood up so quickly he knocked over his wine glass. The dark red liquid spilled across the white tablecloth and onto my dress, like a vicious wound. “I’m sorry, I—” I dabbed at the stain with a napkin. “It’s fine. Just go.” He rushed out, forgetting even to pay the bill. As the waiter brought the check, I watched the direction he had disappeared and let out a soft laugh. How familiar this all was. Two years ago, I had acute gastroenteritis, curled up on the floor in agony in the middle of the night. I called Owen, and he said he was in the middle of running experimental data and couldn’t leave. I ended up calling an ambulance myself and spent the night in the emergency room. He showed up the next morning with a container of porridge, his face etched with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Paige. The project was at a critical stage.” I told him it was okay, that I understood. And I truly did. I believed his career was important, that our future depended on his hard work now. But it turned out he wasn’t too busy. He just saved his time for people who were more worthy of it. I paid the bill and walked out of the restaurant. The river breeze was cool, carrying the first chill of autumn. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Owen: [Her mom is stable. I’ll be back late. You should get some sleep.] I typed a reply: [Okay.] I thought for a moment, then added another sentence: [Owen, let’s break up.] Then I turned off my phone. 7 Moving out of that house was easier than I expected. Owen stayed at the hospital for three days, which gave me plenty of time to pack. For seven years of a shared life, I had surprisingly few things. Two boxes of clothes, one box of books, and the small jewelry box with the pull-tab ring. Everything else, the furniture, the appliances, the matching sets of dishes, belonged to us. And us no longer existed. I took off the pull-tab necklace and left it on the living room coffee table. Next to it, I placed a printout of the receipt for the diamond ring he’d bought for Nina. I took one last look around the home we had built together. The gardenia on the balcony had withered because I’d forgotten to water it. Owen had forgotten, too. We were both too busy, too preoccupied with our own separate worlds, to remember that the things we shared needed tending. As I was leaving, my next-door neighbor came out to take out her trash. “Going on a trip, Paige?” she asked with a smile. I pulled up the handle of my suitcase. “Yeah, a long one.” I didn’t say I wasn’t coming back. Some goodbyes don’t need a ceremony, just as some relationships don’t even deserve a funeral. I found a temporary one-bedroom apartment in an old building near my office. After the movers left the boxes in the living room, I sat on the floor and started unpacking. At the bottom of the book box, I found an old photo album. The pictures were from college, so young they were almost painful to look at. There was one of Owen giving me a piggyback ride down the mountain. I’d sprained my ankle after that camping trip, and he’d insisted on carrying me. The trail was steep, and he was sweating, but he was smiling. “You’re so light, Paige. I could carry you forever.” I had believed him. As I flipped through, the photos became fewer and fewer. We rarely took pictures after we started working. He was busy, he was tired, he said we were an old married couple, why bother with formalities. The love was already fading then. I was just too slow, or too scared, to admit it. When I turned my phone back on, there were dozens of missed calls, all from Owen. My messages had blown up. The last one was from ten minutes ago: [Paige, where are you? We need to talk. Please.] I replied: [There’s nothing left to talk about. The key is with the building manager. Do what you want with the ring.] He responded instantly: [I’m not breaking up. I don’t agree!] I typed slowly, [It’s been seven years, Owen. Leave me with a little dignity.] The “typing…” bubble appeared and disappeared for a long time. Finally, a message came through. [It’s because of Nina, isn’t it? I swear, there’s nothing going on between us.] [Her mom needed someone, I was just—] I cut him off. [Owen, do you remember when my mom had surgery? Two years ago, to remove a fibroid. The day of the surgery, you said you had a project review you couldn’t miss. I waited outside the operating room alone for six hours. You showed up later with a bouquet of flowers. You said you were sorry you were late. I said it was okay, the surgery was a success. But you never asked me how I got through those six hours. You didn’t see the woman in the next bed, surrounded by her husband and daughter. The sound of their voices made me feel like I was a ghost. And you never noticed that from that day on, I never complained to you again.] After sending that, I blocked his number.

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“Alice, the company has decided to terminate your employment.” HR director Janet’s voice was flat. I glanced at my phone—the photo of the positive pregnancy test still lit the screen. I’d just found out yesterday. Today, I was being let go. “On what grounds?” “Restructuring.” I almost laughed. Three months ago, my colleague Jessica got pregnant. Our boss even gave her a bonus and three months of paid leave. The day after I find out, I’m suddenly “restructured.” “And the severance?” “Two months’ salary.” After six years, standard compensation should be around $120,000. She was offering twenty. “Fine,” I stood up. “But a reminder—the Astra Group contract renews next week. I haven’t handed over the files yet.” Janet paled. I walked out. An $18 million account. Good luck landing that without me. 1 The conference room door clicked shut behind me. I leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. My palms were slick with sweat. Down the hall, my boss, Bonnie, was standing by the door to the breakroom. When she saw me, she picked up her mug and strolled over, her pace infuriatingly casual. “Alice. All done in there?” she asked, as if she were asking what I wanted for lunch. “Bonnie,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “I want to know why.” “Why what?” “Three months ago, Jessica announced her pregnancy, and you gave her paid leave.” I held her gaze. “The day after I find out I’m pregnant, I’m being pushed out.” Bonnie smiled. “Alice, you make it sound like the company is targeting you.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Jessica’s situation is different from yours.” “How is it different?” “She has a high-risk pregnancy. She needs to rest. You don’t.” “That doesn’t mean you can fire me the very next day,” I said, my voice tight with anger. “I’ve worked here for six years. I’ve handled the Astra Group account by myself from the very beginning.” A flicker of something—annoyance? unease?—passed through Bonnie’s eyes. “And?” She set her mug down and leaned in closer. “Alice, let me be honest with you. This company doesn’t pay people to sit around.” “You’re pregnant. You’ll be on leave for at least half a year, right? Who’s going to manage the account then?” “I can work remotely while I’m on leave, I can—” “And you think the client will be okay with that?” she cut me off. “Look, don’t get emotional. This was a company decision, not something I could control.” I clenched my fists. “Then what about Jessica? She’s taking leave, too. Why does she get to stay?” Bonnie’s expression shifted. A subtle, unnatural stiffness, the look of someone caught off guard. “Her situation…” “How is her situation any different?” I pressed. “She’s only been here a year, she’s never managed a major account. Why does her pregnancy get her a vacation, while mine gets me fired?” Bonnie was silent for a few seconds. Then she laughed. “Alice, you’re a capable employee, no doubt.” “But you think you’re more important than you are.” She turned and walked away, leaving me with one final, cutting remark. “This company will do just fine without you.” I stood frozen in the hallway, watching her go. My phone vibrated. A message from my husband: How did it go? I didn’t reply. Because I saw someone else. Jessica was coming out of Bonnie’s office, holding a folder. She saw me and stopped for a second, then walked over with a smile. “Alice, I heard you weren’t feeling well. Are you taking some time off?” Her baby bump was just starting to show. And the file in her hand… I saw the title. Astra Group 2024 Partnership Renewal Proposal. It was the proposal I wrote. My name had been crossed out. Hers was written in its place. 2 I didn’t say a word. Noticing my stare, Jessica instinctively hid the folder behind her back. “Alice? Is everything okay?” “That’s my proposal,” I said, pointing behind her. “I worked on it for three months. I just finalized it last week.” She blinked. “Oh, this?” “Bonnie said you were leaving, so she asked me to start getting familiar with the account.” “When did I say I was leaving?” Jessica’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Then it was back. “Alice, you’ll have to ask Bonnie about that. I’m just doing what my manager told me to do.” She tried to step around me, but I blocked her path. “Jessica, be straight with me,” I said. “What do you know about this?” She looked up at me, her eyes darting away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Alice. I’m just taking over a work assignment.” She sidestepped me and hurried away. I stood there, pieces clicking together in my head. Jessica had joined the company three months ago. Bonnie had introduced her as a distant cousin and asked me to “show her the ropes.” And I did. Client files, communication protocols, email chains—I taught her everything, step by step. I thought I was training my successor. Turns out, I was training my replacement. My phone vibrated again. Three frantic messages from my husband. How’s the baby? What did the company say? Don’t panic. Whatever it is, we can talk about it when you get home. I shoved my phone in my pocket and walked toward my desk. As I pushed open the glass door to our department, two dozen pairs of eyes snapped toward me, then quickly looked away. The office was eerily silent. Liz, the office gossip, was staring intently at her screen, motionless. The intern, a young man named Jake, opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it. I walked to my desk. A cardboard box was sitting on my chair. Next to it was a document. Employee Offboarding Checklist. They’d even packed for me. I picked up the list. First item: Astra Group project files and client contact information. Second item: Shared departmental drive administrative access. Third item: Company-issued laptop and access card. At the bottom, a line was reserved for my signature. The date was today. I put the list down and opened my laptop. Before I could even type my password, a message popped up on the screen: Your account has been disabled. Please contact the IT department with any questions. The account was locked. They weren’t even giving me time to process it. “Alice.” A quiet voice came from behind me. I turned. It was Jake, the intern. “What is it?” He bit his lip, his eyes flicking toward Bonnie’s office. “During the morning meeting…” “What meeting?” “The daily huddle. Before you went into the conference room, Bonnie already told us.” His voice got quieter. “Told you what?” “That you had resigned for… for personal family reasons.” “She also told us to be understanding and not to pressure you.” I stared at him, stunned. “I resigned?” Jake nodded. “She also said Jessica would be temporarily taking over the Astra account. Her exact words were… ‘at Alice’s recommendation.’” He looked at me, his expression troubled. “I just thought… I just thought it was strange. You work so hard. Why would you suddenly quit?” I didn’t answer. Bonnie’s office door opened. She stood in the doorway and beckoned to me. “Alice, come in for a second.” 3 I walked in. Bonnie was sitting behind her desk. She gestured for me to close the door. “Have a seat.” I remained standing. “Bonnie, I have a few questions.” “Go ahead.” “First, on what legal grounds am I being terminated?” “Departmental restructuring. Didn’t Janet tell you?” she said, flipping through a file without looking up. “Second, why did you tell my colleagues that I resigned?” Bonnie’s hand paused. “Alice, you’re a veteran employee. Isn’t it better to part ways gracefully?” “I don’t need grace,” I said, my eyes fixed on her. “I need a reasonable explanation.” She finally looked up. “What explanation do you want?” “Is there a problem with my performance?” “No.” “Have I ever caused the company any losses?” “No.” “Then why are you forcing me out?” Bonnie sighed. “Alice, you’re a smart woman. There are some things I’d rather not say so bluntly.” “I’m not afraid of blunt.” She looked at me, a complex expression on her face. “Fine. I’ll be direct.” “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” “Yes.” “Your pregnancy, maternity leave, and nursing leave will add up to at least a year. Can you work normally during that time?” “I can—” “You can what? Work remotely? Part-time?” She gave a small, humorless smile. “Alice, our clients aren’t idiots. Astra Group pays us eighteen million dollars a year. Why should they wait for you to have a baby before they talk business?” “Then you could have at least let me complete the handover—” “There’s no time,” she cut me off. “The renewal window is next week.” “And besides…” She paused. “Besides what?” “Besides, Mr. Vance at Astra already knows you’re leaving.” I froze. “What?” “I spoke with him this morning,” Bonnie said, her expression perfectly calm. “I told him you were resigning for family reasons and that Jessica would be taking over. He said that was fine.” My head was spinning. She had notified the client before I was even called into the meeting. This wasn’t a negotiation. It was a dismissal. “So,” Bonnie said, standing and walking around her desk to face me, “you sign the papers, and we can all move on amicably.” “If you don’t sign…” Her voice dropped. “Alice, it’s been six years. You know how I operate. I have a hundred ways to make you sign.” She patted my shoulder. “Don’t burn your bridges.” I stood there, motionless. She walked past me and opened the door. “Oh, one more thing.” She glanced back. “Finish the handover by the end of the day. You don’t need to come in tomorrow. I’ll have the front desk mail your things to you.” The door closed. I was alone in her office. Outside the window was the city’s central business district, a forest of skyscrapers and a river of traffic. I had worked here for six years. I had started as a junior assistant and worked my way up to marketing manager. I had landed the Astra Group account all by myself. And now, they were kicking me out. Without even giving me twenty-four hours. My phone rang. I pulled it out. The caller ID read: Dominic Vance. Marketing Director at Astra Group. My college classmate. He had been the one to bring me this project. Because he was my guy. I answered. “Alice, what’s going on?” Dominic’s voice was urgent. “Your boss Bonnie just called me, said you’re resigning?” “I didn’t agree to it,” I said. “What do you mean you didn’t agree?” “Dominic, I’ll explain everything later,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Right now, I just need to ask you one thing.” “Shoot.” “Next week’s renewal. Can you hold off on it for a bit?” There was a two-second pause on the other end. “Alice, what are you planning?” “What am I planning?” I looked at the file on Bonnie’s desk. The Astra Group Renewal Proposal. My blood, sweat, and tears for the last three months. The cover page now bore Jessica’s name. “Dominic,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m planning on showing some people that they can’t just take this eighteen million dollars.” 4 At three o’clock, I ran into Jessica in the breakroom. She was making coffee and her hand jolted when she saw me. “Alice.” “Hey.” I went to the water cooler and filled a cup. She stood there awkwardly. “Alice, Bonnie asked me to go over the Astra files with you this afternoon. Is now a good time?” “It’s fine.” I turned to face her. “Jessica, can I ask you something?” “When you found out you were pregnant, what did Bonnie say to you?” She froze. “What do you mean?” “I mean… how did she arrange your maternity leave?” Jessica looked down, stirring her coffee. “Bonnie told me to focus on my health and not to worry about work. She also said she’d give me a raise when I came back.” “How much of a raise?” “Twenty percent.” I laughed. I had been there six years and only got a five percent raise last year. She’d been there one year, and was getting a twenty percent raise for getting pregnant. “What’s so funny, Alice?” “Nothing.” I put my cup down. “Come on, let’s go to my desk. I’ll give you the files.” She followed me, her steps small and hesitant. At my desk, I took a flash drive out of my drawer. “Everything for the Astra account is on here. Client contacts, email history, price quotes, draft contracts—it’s all there.” She took it, surprised. “So fast?” “I always keep backups.” I looked at her. “There are a few other things I should tell you.” “Okay.” She opened the notes app on her phone, ready to type. “Dominic Vance is the main point of contact. He’s a pretty laid-back guy, prefers to talk business in informal settings. We closed the last deal over drinks.” Jessica nodded seriously. “Also, he doesn’t like corporate jargon. The more direct, the better.” “Got it.” “And one last thing.” I paused. “Dominic is a very loyal person. He’s worked with me for three years because we’ve known each other since college.” Jessica’s fingers stopped typing. She looked up. “You and Mr. Vance were classmates?” “We were.” I looked her straight in the eye. “He’s the one who brought this account to me.” The breakroom was suddenly very quiet. I could see it in her eyes—panic, calculation, and a faint, tell-tale flicker of guilt. “Alice…” “I’m not trying to cause trouble,” I said with a small smile. “I’m just reminding you that some things can’t be solved just by swapping out a person.” I picked up my bag. “The files are all yours. I’m leaving now.” “Alice!” she called out after me. “What?” “Are you… are you really resigning?” I didn’t answer. I just walked away. As I reached the elevator bank, I heard hurried footsteps behind me. It was Bonnie’s voice. “Jessica, how did it go? Did she hand everything over?” “She did.” “Are the files complete?” “They are, but…” “But what?” “Bonnie, Alice and Mr. Vance were college classmates.” A few seconds of silence. “I know.” “So…” “It’s fine,” Bonnie said, her voice as composed as ever. “Dominic Vance is a businessman. He cares about the bottom line, not old friendships. As long as the terms of the contract are good, it doesn’t matter who the contact person is.” The elevator arrived. I stepped inside and pressed the button for the ground floor. Bonnie was right. Dominic was a businessman. But she had overlooked one crucial thing. The most important thing to a businessman isn’t the terms of the contract. It’s trust. 5 It was almost seven when I got home. My husband was waiting at the door with a glass of warm milk. “What took you so long?” “Handing things over.” I slipped off my shoes and dropped my bag on the couch. He followed me and pressed the glass into my hand. “What did the company say?” “They told me to finish the handover today and not to come in tomorrow.” “What about the severance?” “Two months’ salary.” He stared at me. “You’ve been there six years. The law says you’re entitled to N+1.” “It should be about $120,000,” I said, sinking onto the couch and taking a sip of milk. “They’re only offering twenty grand.” My husband sat down next to me, silent for a moment. “What are you going to do?” “What do you think?” He looked at me. “I think you’re not the type to take this lying down.” I smiled. “You know me so well.” “Of course I do.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “So, tell me. How are you going to make them pay?” I leaned against him, staring at the ceiling. “I brought in the Astra Group account myself. Bonnie knows that Dominic and I were classmates. What she doesn’t know is that Dominic was the one who approached me three years ago. He had just been promoted to marketing director and needed a reliable agency. He chose me, not the company.” My husband understood. “So, if you leave, he leaves with you?” “Not necessarily,” I said, shaking my head. “Dominic’s a smart guy. He’s not going to sacrifice business for a personal relationship.” “Then what’s your leverage?” I picked up my phone and pulled up an email. “This is Astra Group’s internal procurement process. Every partnership has to go through three levels of approval: the marketing director, the procurement department, and the VP of Finance. Dominic is just the first gatekeeper.” My husband glanced at it. “And you can get past the other two?” “The head of procurement is a woman named Heather,” I said. “Last year, her son was applying to a private international school. The consultant quoted her $18,000. I called in a favor and got it done for five. She told me she owed me one.” My husband raised his eyebrows. “And the VP of Finance?” “The VP of Finance is a guy named Michael. I don’t know him. But,” I said, swiping to another email, “he just submitted his resignation last month. Next week is his last week. The new VP is an external hire and hasn’t started yet. Which means the renewal approval this week is basically just a formality on the finance end. As long as Dominic and Heather sign off, the contract will go through.” My husband was silent for a few seconds. “You had this all planned out?” “No,” I said, putting my phone down. “I honestly thought I would work at that company until I retired. I thought they saw my contributions. I thought Bonnie was my boss, not my enemy.” I closed my eyes. “They’re the ones who broke the rules first.” My husband didn’t speak, just tightened his arm around me. After a long moment, he said, “So, when are you going to make your move?” I opened my eyes. “Next Wednesday. The last day of the renewal window.” “That’s the day Bonnie is taking Jessica to Astra Group to sign the contract. She thinks she has it all figured out. She thinks Dominic will play along. She thinks the client won’t care who their contact person is.” I smiled. “I’m going to show her that that eighteen million dollars was never hers to begin with.”

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“Your husband got a half-million-dollar bonus this year! What are you guys doing for the holidays?” It was the company’s annual gala, and my husband Nathan’s colleague’s wife, Laura, was smiling at me. I froze. Half a million? Nathan told me it was five thousand. He said business was slow this year, that everyone took a pay cut. I stared at Laura’s genuine, smiling face, suddenly at a loss for words. “Oh, you know. The usual,” I heard myself say, my voice sounding distant and hollow. On the drive home, I replayed the last eight years in my mind. Business is slow. The company’s struggling. Just wait a little longer. I had been listening to those words for eight years. 1 When I got home, Nathan was on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. The TV was on, the volume barely a whisper. A half-empty glass of cold tea sat on the coffee table. “You’re back?” He glanced up at me for a second before his eyes returned to the screen. “How was the gala?” “It was fine.” I put down my purse and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Standing at the kitchen doorway, I watched the back of his head. Eight years. We had been married for eight years, and he never let me manage our finances. “I’ll earn it, you’ll spend it,” he’d promised when we got married. But what had I spent in these eight years? The house we lived in, he bought before the wedding. The car was his before we married, too. The year I quit my job, he said, “Just stay home and take care of the kids. You’ve got me.” I believed him. “Nathan,” I said, walking over to sit beside him on the sofa. “How much was the year-end bonus?” His thumb froze over the screen. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible hesitation, but I saw it. “I told you. Five thousand. Business was slow this year.” “What about Kevin?” Kevin was in the same department as him, having joined the company two years after Nathan. “Him?” Nathan frowned. “Probably about the same. Why?” “No reason.” I didn’t press him further. But I remembered what Kevin’s wife, Laura, had said at the gala. “Your department did great this year! My husband got $400,000, so yours must have gotten even more.” Even more. That’s what she’d said. Even more. That night, after Nathan showered, he left his phone charging on the nightstand. I lay in bed, pretending to read. He went out to the balcony for a smoke. I stared at the phone, my heart hammering against my ribs. In eight years of marriage, I had never gone through his phone. He had never gone through mine. We were the kind of people who “respected each other’s privacy.” But tonight… My hand reached out and picked up the phone. I knew the passcode. Our wedding anniversary. I opened his messages, scrolling through the chat history. Nothing out of the ordinary. I opened his payment app and checked his transactions. Nothing there either. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, about to put the phone down— When a single line item caught my eye. “Transfer to Bank Account ending in 8856: $35,000” Thirty-five thousand dollars? I scrolled down. The same account, last month: $28,000. The month before that: $32,000. And further back— Every single month. A transfer. The amounts varied, the lowest being twenty thousand, the highest fifty. My heart began to beat faster, a frantic, painful rhythm. I didn’t recognize that account number. It wasn’t any of our cards. The balcony door slid open. My hand trembled. I quickly placed the phone back on the nightstand and squeezed my eyes shut. Nathan came back to bed. He climbed in beside me and fell asleep almost instantly. But I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, until the sun came up. The next morning, after Nathan left for work, I dropped our daughter, Phoebe, at her kindergarten and didn’t go home. I went to the bank. “Hello, I’d like to check the account holder’s information for this card.” The teller glanced at me. “And you are?” “I’m his wife.” “I’m sorry, ma’am. We can’t disclose another person’s account information.” I paused, then forced a smile. “Of course. Thank you.” I walked out of the bank and stood on the sidewalk for a long time. Account ending in 8856. Twenty to thirty thousand dollars a month. That was three to four hundred thousand a year. Over eight years… I didn’t dare do the math. Back home, I opened my laptop and logged into Nathan’s email. The password was his mother’s birthday. I knew it by heart. I found his pay stubs. A monthly salary of $48,000. With benefits and bonuses, his annual income was nearly $800,000. Eight hundred thousand dollars. He had told me it was $300,000. He said business was slow, that everyone was taking pay cuts. He said the bonus was only five thousand, that I should be careful with money. And me? The last time I bought a coat for $200, he gave me the silent treatment for a week. “Why do you spend so much? It’s not like you don’t have clothes to wear.” I returned the coat. That afternoon, I went to a coffee shop near Nathan’s office. I wasn’t there to see him. I was there to see Laura, Kevin’s wife. We’d met a few times. We weren’t close, but we had each other’s numbers. “Sophie? What’s up?” Laura looked curious when she arrived. We rarely met up alone; she probably thought it was strange. “Nothing much, just wanted to chat,” I said, smiling as I ordered her a coffee. “I had to leave the gala in a hurry the other night, didn’t get to finish our conversation.” “Oh, really?” “Yeah.” I looked at her directly. “So you said your Kevin got a $400,000 bonus?” “That’s right,” Laura beamed. “It was a great year. He said their department was number one, and everyone’s bonus was up almost fifty percent from last year.” “So what about Nathan? He’s the department head. He must have gotten more, right?” Laura paused for a second. “I guess so? Kevin said Nathan got the biggest bonus in the department, something over half a million, he heard. Why?” I smiled. “No reason. Just curious.” Half a million dollars. He told me it was five thousand. When Nathan came home that evening, I had a full dinner waiting for him. Braised short ribs, sweet and sour fish—all his favorites. “What’s the special occasion?” he asked with a grin, taking a seat at the table. “Did I win the lottery?” “No reason. Just felt like cooking.” I served him a bowl of soup. “Nathan, how long have we been married?” “Eight years,” he said, picking up a piece of pork. “Why the sudden question?” “Eight years, and I’ve barely traveled anywhere,” I said. “How about we take Phoebe on a trip for the holidays this year?” “A trip?” Nathan’s brow furrowed. “Where to?” “Maybe Hawaii. Phoebe’s been saying she wants to see the ocean.” “Hawaii?” He put down his chopsticks. “That’s so expensive. Flights and hotels during the holidays would be tens of thousands.” “But didn’t you just get your bonus?” “It was only five thousand. What’s that going to cover?” he said, shaking his head. “Besides, I’m swamped with work after the new year. I don’t have time to go anywhere.” I just looked at him, saying nothing. He went back to eating as if nothing had happened. I suddenly remembered when Phoebe was three. I told him I wanted to take her to Disneyland. Nathan said it was too expensive. Maybe later. Phoebe is six now. “Later” still hadn’t come. After dinner, Nathan went to the balcony for his smoke. As I was clearing the table, his phone rang in the living room. I glanced at the screen. The contact was saved as “Mom.” But it wasn’t his mom. I had his mother’s number saved. The last four digits were 3344. This one ended in 6677. I answered the call. “Hello? Nathan? Max has a fever. Can you come over?” It was a woman’s voice. Young, with a hint of a sweet, wheedling tone. Max? Who was Max? “Who is this?” Her tone changed instantly. “Who’s on the phone?” I didn’t speak. Neither did she. Three seconds later, she hung up. I stood there, phone still in my hand, frozen. Nathan walked in from the balcony and saw the look on my face. He stopped. “What’s wrong?” I held the phone out to him. “Who is Max?” 2 The color drained from Nathan’s face. It was only for a second, but I saw it. Then he chuckled, taking the phone from me. “Max? Oh, that’s my subordinate’s son. She’s a single mom, things are tough for her. The kid got sick, she must have panicked and called me.” “A subordinate?” “Yeah, her name’s Isabelle. Just started last year. Her husband’s working abroad, so she’s raising the kid on her own.” He slipped the phone into his pocket. “I’m her boss. I have to help out sometimes.” I stared at him. He met my gaze, his expression open and honest. “You don’t believe me?” He smiled. “Fine, I’ll delete her contact. Here, you can watch.” He pulled out his phone, opened his contacts, and scrolled to a name. The profile picture was of a very young woman, posing with a little boy. The child looked about five or six, with a bright, happy smile. Nathan hit delete. “There. Happy?” He waggled the phone at me. “Seriously, you’re overthinking things.” I didn’t say a word. He patted my shoulder and walked into the bedroom. That night, he slept soundly. I didn’t. I waited until I was sure he was asleep, then quietly got out of bed and took his phone. He had deleted the contact, but not the call history. I found the number—the one ending in 6677. There were so many calls. At least two or three every week. Sometimes he called her, sometimes she called him. The longest one was forty-seven minutes. I wrote down the number, put the phone back, and returned to bed. The next day, I contacted a private investigator. It wasn’t that I couldn’t find things out myself. It was that I needed professional, undeniable proof. “This phone number. I need to know who it belongs to, where they live, and what they do.” The investigator was a man in his forties with a calm, seen-it-all expression. “Alright. You’ll have your answers in three days.” I went home, and life continued as normal. I cooked, took care of Phoebe, and waited for Nathan to get home from work. He acted just like he always did. Came home, ate dinner, scrolled on his phone, showered, and went to bed. As if nothing had happened. On the third day, the investigator called me. “Mrs. Davies, we have the results.” “Tell me.” “The number belongs to a Ms. Isabelle Reed. She’s thirty-two years old and currently resides at the Willow Creek Estates in the southern district.” Willow Creek Estates. I knew the place. A new luxury development that opened three years ago. The average price was over a million dollars for a condo. The place we lived in was worth a quarter of that. “She owns a 1,300-square-foot condo, which she moved into in 2022. She also has a car, a BMW X3, purchased in 2021.” “Did she buy the condo and the car herself?” “The property was paid for in cash,” the PI said, pausing for effect. “The payer was not her.” My knuckles went white as I gripped my phone. “Who was it?” “The system shows a wire transfer from a corporate account. The legal representative of that corporation is—Nathan Davies.” Nathan. I closed my eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. “What else?” “Isabelle Reed has a son. He’s eight years old, his name is Max. The father’s name is left blank on the birth certificate. However—” He paused again. “However?” “We checked through some other channels. The boy’s private kindergarten and elementary school tuition fees were all paid from Nathan Davies’s bank account. And every year, during winter and summer breaks, Nathan is the one who takes the boy on vacation.” I heard myself laugh. A quiet, dry, brittle sound. “Is there more?” “One last thing,” the investigator said. “The title deed for Ms. Reed’s condo has two names on it. Hers, and—” “Nathan Davies.” “Correct.” I hung up the phone and sat in my car for a long time, the engine off. Eight years old. The boy was eight years old. Nathan and I had been married for eight years. Our daughter, Phoebe, was six. That meant the boy existed before Phoebe was even born. Before we were married—no, wait. We got married in 2016. The boy was born in 2016. I thought back to the spring of 2016. Nathan and I had just gotten engaged and were planning the wedding. One night, he told me he had a last-minute work emergency and had to go on a business trip for three days. When he came back, he gave me a diamond necklace, saying he’d picked it up for me while he was away. I was so happy. I thought he loved me so much. It turned out he spent those three days with another woman while she gave birth to his son. I went home. Nathan wasn’t back from work yet. I sat alone in the living room, staring at our wedding photo on the wall. It was taken eight years ago. We were smiling so sweetly. I was twenty-six then. I had just quit a decent job at a good company, ready to become a full-time housewife after the wedding. Nathan had said, “Just relax and stay home. You’ve got me.” I believed him. Not only did I believe him, I was grateful. I thought I was the luckiest woman in the world to have found a man who wanted to provide for me. For eight years, I never bought a piece of clothing that cost more than fifty dollars. Because every time I bought something a little more expensive, Nathan would frown. “Our budget is tight. You need to be more frugal.” I switched my skincare from designer brands to drugstore ones. I swapped my designer-adjacent handbags for ones I found online. I even used the personal savings my mother gave me to help with household expenses. Because Nathan said business was slow, and he was under a lot of pressure. I felt sorry for him. I wanted to share his burden. And him? He bought another woman a luxury condo. He bought another woman a new car. He sent her tens of thousands of dollars every month, for eight straight years. Over eight years, that had to be at least three million dollars. I did a quick calculation. An average of $30,000 a month is $360,000 a year. Over eight years, that’s $2.88 million. Add the down payment on the condo, the car, the private school tuition— At least four million dollars. And what about me? How much money had I spent in those eight years? I tried to think, but I couldn’t calculate it. Because the amount was so small. So small I couldn’t even remember what I’d bought. At six o’clock, Nathan came home. “You didn’t cook tonight?” he asked, taking off his shoes and walking into the living room. I sat on the sofa, watching him. “Nathan.” “Yeah?” “Who is Isabelle Reed?” He stopped in his tracks. But he recovered almost instantly. “I already told you, she’s my subordinate.” “Then who is Max Reed?” This time, his expression finally cracked. “You’ve been investigating me?” “I wasn’t investigating you,” I said, standing up. “I was investigating the woman who’s been living off our family’s money for the past eight years—to the tune of four million dollars.” Nathan was silent. He stood by the doorway, not moving forward, not backing away. After a long moment, he sighed. “I was going to tell you, when the time was right.” I laughed. “The right time? You couldn’t find it in eight years?”

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