Wren’s POV I dragged Hazel out of a rogue camp and lifted to High Priestess and tonight I caught her naked in my mate’s bed. The smoke hits first. Then the scent. Sweat, slick, heat — and underneath it, my mate’s mark layered all over another she-wolf’s skin. Neither of them even moves. Hazel sees me first. She screams, white as bone. “Wren —” Caden turns his head. His eyes find me. And before I’ve moved an inch, before I’ve made a sound, his body shifts — instinct, pure instinct — to put hers behind his. He shields her. From me. I stand there breathing through my mouth. I watch him pick her clothes off the floor. One piece at a time. Soft, practiced hands. He dresses her like she’s made of glass. He walks her to the door and murmurs, “There’s someone waiting for you outside. I’ll deal with this.” I haven’t lifted a finger. He’s already afraid I’ll go feral. The door clicks shut. It’s just me and him now. I stare at the face I’ve known since I was a pup. The boy who used to chase me through these woods. Now, it’s a stranger’s face. The past few moons, I’ve been too busy to date Caden. The moonlit hunt I won at the warriors’ draw, the festival passes I bought for the two of us, the private dinners he booked at the Ridge — every single one I had to cancel for a healing or a late shift. Hazel always offered to step in. “Don’t let them go to waste, Wren.” Honestly, I was grateful. And my mate never made me feel guilty. “I support your work, Wren. However long it takes, I’ll wait.” That’s what he told me. Always in that low, patient voice that wraps around my ribs. I never thought twice when I told Caden and Hazel to have fun. And lately, something had been off in my chest. A dull ache right under my ribs. A pull in the bond. Some nights it twisted hard enough to wake me up. I figured it was the workload. Not enough sleep. Now, I finally get it. My wolf knew. She knew before I did. Caden lights a black-leaf roll, takes a slow drag, then finally looks at me. “Got nothing to say?” He’s the one who broke the bond. So why am I the one with my hands shaking? “Caden. Are you serious right now?” He flicks ash onto the floorboards. Voice flat. “I’ll own my part. But Wren — be honest with yourself. What have you given me these past few years?” “You’re always too busy. Always a healing. Always rounds. I asked you to share a meal — you had a patient. I asked you to a hunt — you had a shift. I have to schedule a fight with you three days in advance.” He says it with a hint of self-pity. Like I’m the one who climbed into another wolf’s bed. “Hazel’s different.” His voice softens around her name. “She listens. She remembers what I say. She actually shows up. Every date you couldn’t make — she made them with me. In her heart, I come first.” Every word cuts straight through my chest. “Caden, I’ve been like this since the day you met me! I never changed!” His brow knits like I’m slow. “I know. You haven’t. But I’m done waiting.” I cross the floor and slap him. “How dare you do this to me! Don’t forget I’m your fated mate!” He doesn’t dodge. The roll falls from his fingers, sparks scattering across the bed. He looks up. Finally — finally — there’s something in his eyes. “You done? Hit me again if you need to. Just don’t take it out on Hazel.” I open my mouth. The pack mind-link pings, sharp and loud. [Healer Sutton. Emergency surgery. Thirty minutes. ] Caden laughs. Soft. Quiet. It threads into my ear like a needle. “Off you go, Ms. Healer. Your mate just bedded your best friend, and you’re running back to save a life. You’re the patientest she-wolf I’ve ever known.” My claws dig into my palms. I turn around before he can see the tears.

Wren’s POV The healing-lamps burn too bright tonight. I clench my jaw and bury the tears behind my teeth. My hands stay steady. The blade stays steady. Nobody in this room would guess that thirty minutes ago I caught my fated mate sleeping with my best friend. When the patient stabilizes, my wrists ache so deep I can barely lift them. “Healer Sutton — I haven’t congratulated you yet.” The junior healer grins as he scribbles down vitals. “Six moons of leave for a Mating Ceremony! The whole infirmary’s been talking. Alpha Caden sends flowers to you every single day— guess he finally got you to say yes.” The clay cup creaks in my grip. These last few moons I burned every favor I had to earn that leave. Every off-day. Every emergency shift I could swap forward. I went down once in the changing room, low blood, knees buckling. I drank a vial of honey-water and walked back into surgery. Caden picked me up that night. Saw my white lips and frowned, rare as a winter sun. “Could you maybe — just once — be kind to yourself?” I smiled. “Worried about me, my Alpha?” He pulled me into his chest. “Wren. I want to bring you home and keep you somewhere safe.” His arms had already held another she-wolf by then. Every drop of sweat I bled was a joke. “Mm,” I tell the junior. One syllable. Any more and I’ll crack. I slip into the changing chamber. The bolt slides shut. I slide down the door. My shoulders shake. The tears finally fall through my fingers and there is nothing — nothing — I can do to stop them. Caden has been my shadow since I was nine. Wherever I went, he went. One winter I snapped at him, “Could you stop following me?” He’d ducked his head. “I want to be your shadow. Where you go, I go.” At eighteen he slipped me a folded leaf. “I don’t want to be your shadow anymore. I want to stand at your side.” I said yes. Eighteen to twenty-eight. Ten years. Every promise — kept. Late healing? He waited at the gate. Sick? He took leave to nurse me. Every word I ever spoke, he stored like a sacred thing. The whole pack said it: That’s what a mate bond is supposed to look like. I believed it. I scrub my eyes and push to my feet. Two voices drift from the corridor — junior healers, low. “You hear? Emergency came in. She-wolf, three moons gone. Her Alpha mate took her too rough — she’s bleeding out.” “Pup’s holding. But the male—bad news. Came in barking orders, said if his pup dies, he’ll burn this infirmary down.” “Power-drunk man, I swear…” “That’s not the bit. The bit is — he looks exactly like Healer Sutton’s mate.” “Goddess! You don’t think she’s the mistress, do you?” The footsteps fade. I lean against the door, ice running down my spine. My claws split skin. Blood trickles through my fingers. I shove the door open and run.

Wren’s POV Through the glass of the chamber I see them. Caden’s voice is honey. “Slow down, sweetheart. It’s hot.” I push the door open. Hazel sees me first. “W-Wren.” Caden’s head snaps around. The instant his eyes land on me, his body shifts — automatic, animal — to put Hazel behind him. His voice ices over. “I told you. Leave her alone.” I stare at Hazel’s flat stomach. “Pup?” Tears spill down her cheeks. She turns away. She can’t look at me. “Yes,” Caden answers for her. “Mine. Three months.” Three months. Three moons ago Caden was at the border, hunting rogues. The raid hit and the bond went silent. No mind-link. Nothing. I begged for leave and tore down the trail in wolf form. Halfway there a second wave of rogues hit the road. I was thrown. My ribs slammed a stone. I hadn’t even told him about our pup, and I lost him right there on the forest floor. When Caden finally found me he knelt by the cot and crushed me to his chest. His voice was shaking. “I’m sorry, Wren. We’ll have another. I swear we’ll have another.” First time I ever saw him cry. I stroked his hair and said, “You’re alive. That’s enough. We’ll have more.” He wasn’t at the border. He was with Hazel. They made their pup that week. “Wren.” Hazel’s voice drags me back. Her eyes are red, her chin trembles. Picture-perfect. “A pup needs his father… please. Bless this for us.” Crack. My palm meets her cheek so hard my whole arm sings. The chamber freezes. Then she’s sobbing into her hands. Caden surges to his feet and locks his hand around my wrist. “Wren. Enough. You got something to say, you say it to me.” His eyes are full of fury. In twenty years he’s been angry with me — what — three times? Every single time because I worked too hard and didn’t eat. Now he’s furious. For her. “Say it to you? Caden, what makes you think you’re worth saying it to?” I rip my arm free and step back. Something slips from my pocket and clatters onto the floor. A silver dagger. He and I both go still. Three years ago on the night of our promising he slid the mate-pendant onto my throat — and pressed this dagger into my hand. “Wren Sutton. Under this moon, I swear it — you’re the only Luna I’ll ever choose. If I ever betray you, take this blade and drive it through my heart.” I stare at the silver dagger. My inner wolf is roaring. I bend down and pick it up. Something black and enormous rises through my chest. My eyes burn. My wolf is howling. I want to drive it in. I want him to feel what I felt — your own wolf clawing you apart from the inside. Hazel screams and throws her arms wide in front of him. “Wren! It’s me! It’s all me — leave him alone!” I take one step toward them. Just one. Caden’s eyes change. He yanks Hazel behind him and his hand shoots out — palm to my chest — and shoves. The back of my head cracks against the stone floor. My ears ring like bells. When my vision clears he’s wrapped around her, his voice low and tender. “Did he hit your belly? Are you alright?” She shakes her head, weeping. He never once looks at me. The corridor outside is full of pack-folk now. “Goddess! Healer Sutton!” “She’s the quiet one. What is she now, feral?” I lie there. My head throbs. I was eight when my mother handed me to my drunk, fanged father and walked off. I knelt in the dirt clutching her ankle and screamed why until I passed out. After that I never broke for anyone again. Not when I failed my first naming-trial. Not when I lost a patient on the table. Not even when I lost our pup on that forest road. It took Caden twenty years to break that shell off me, piece by piece. He’s the one who taught me a she-wolf could be loved. And now he’s the one who turned me into a feral thing on the floor. I push up onto my hands. My knees lock under me. I make it to my feet. I walk out. It’s just me now. That has always been enough.

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An ESPN special is interviewing Sienna Hayes. The hottest sports reporter in the country. She stands by the noisy ice rink. She gently tells the camera about the man who made her fearless.He is a top hockey player. She says he often flew across North America. Just for a brief reunion. Whenever her work trips ended with no set return date,he waited at the airport. Once,he waited for three whole months. I was deeply moved,watching their love story unfold on screen. Until tonight.The night before my wedding. I see the rerun. Her eyes are red.She whispers to the camera: “You said I was your courage…but I don’t have the courage to keep you.” “But I don’t regret it.At least we had our wildest youth.” She accidentally lights up her phone. The lock screen shows a man kissing her passionately. He is Caleb Vance,my groom tomorrow. … My blood freezes instantly. I turn my head. I look at the sleeping face on my pillow. Identical features. The same star athlete I thought I knew.But how?How is this possible? He is the untouchable”Gentleman on Ice.” New York’s ultimate good man. On rainy days,he’d carry me down the whole street. Just so my shoes wouldn’t get muddy. When my fingers cramped from late-night piano practice,he never just told me to rest. He’d wrap his warm hands around mine.He’d massage them gently. For a second,I even have an absurd thought. Does he have a secret twin brother? I call everyone overnight. Family,friends,wedding planners. I say my dad is sick. I delay the wedding by a week. Before I find the truth,I won’t ruin our three years of sweet memories. Three years.I at least owe those three years a real answer.

My best friend Chloe picks up on it right away.”Aurora,did you and Caleb have a fight?” “No,”I pause.I decide to tell her everything. She is a top business lawyer. Maybe she can help me. She listens to the whole story. A long silence follows. Finally,she says softly: “Don’t worry.I will find the truth.” hat night,we slept side by side like strangers.I lay awake in the dark,listening to him breathe.In the morning,Caleb woke up and pulled me into his arms. “Baby,today you’re supposed to be the most beautiful bride in the world.” I pull away and glance at the abstract painting on the wall—part of his collection. I can’t help but ask,”When will you paint a portrait of me?” He rubs his morning stubble against my cheek. His voice is lazy,teasing. “Baby,I told you.I’m an athlete.Zero artistic talent. I only know how to appreciate art.” My chest tightens. In that interview,Sienna proudly showed a sketchbook— a gift from her lover. Every single page was a sketch of her, from quiet college libraries to crowded locker room hallways. My voice comes out tight.”My dad is sick.We have to postpone the wedding.” I met Caleb at a charity gala. Even then,he was already a league superstar. Now that I think about it… Did he take every single exclusive interview just to be near her? Then why did he ever choose me?

Caleb’s throat tightens. “Baby,I know your dad’s health comes first,but can we…” I cut him off. “I already told everyone.The wedding is postponed for one week.” Just one week. Caleb visibly relaxes. He turns and heads to the kitchen to make me breakfast. I watch his figure. Just like always. I ask softly: “If I had a terrible accident on tour,would it break you?” He freezes. The avocado toast rested in his hands.His eyes are intense and sincere. “If anything ever happened to you,I wouldn’t want to go on.Heaven or hell,I will go with you.” Without that interview,I would have thrown myself into his arms. I would have kissed him fiercely. But now,I just stand still,watching him.”Do you know Sienna Hayes?”

Panic flashes across Caleb’s face. A look I’ve never seen on him before. He looks like he wants to deny it. But in the end,he nods. Even though I suspected it,the confirmation still hollows me out. I force the words out of my throat. “So,she said you two are together.Is it true?” “Of course not!” Caleb grabs my hand,his grip tight and nervous. “Where did you hear that?Sienna and I are just college classmates.” “If there is anything else…she came from a poor family. I anonymously paid her college tuition back then.” Is this really all just Sienna’s delusion? But something still feels wrong. “Caleb.Did you do all those exclusive ESPN interviews…just to see Sienna at work?” He looks at me,helpless and a little wounded. “Baby,you are overthinking this. She’s a sports reporter.We cross paths at the arena. But there are so many teams in the league,so many reporters. Why would I go exclusive with one network just for her?” He gently pinches my nose. I used to love when he did that. Now my skin feels wrong. “Are you just having pre-wedding anxiety?Don’t let your mind run wild.”

I can’t find any flaws in his words. Maybe I really was just overthinking. Just then,his phone rings. It’s an unsaved number. He listens for only a moment before rushing out. He doesn’t even say goodbye. The doubts I just buried come rushing back. I walk into Caleb’s study. I rarely come in here. But now,I begin searching,even though I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Shelves full of trophies and sports magazines. Clean,neat.No trace of Sienna. I almost laugh at my own paranoia. But then I accidentally knock a locked wooden box off the desk. It hits the floor and snaps open.My heart stops. Inside the box is a thick sketchbook. My hands shake. I cover my mouth to stifle a scream. The man who swore he had no artistic talent lied to me. A cold dread crawls over me.I flip through the pages. Page one,page two…no exceptions. Page one.Page two.Every single page is Sienna.I collapse onto the floor.I can’t even cry. My phone vibrates.A text from Chloe: “Aurora,I hacked into Sienna’s Finsta…Something is wrong.” My hands shake so hard I can barely hold the phone. It takes me a moment to tap the link. The latest post reads: 【Flew back during the Christmas break just to wish him a happy wedding in person. Didn’t expect to get trapped at JFK for three days because of a blizzard.】 Posted three hours ago. I suddenly remember a detail from the interview. Whenever Sienna’s flights were uncertain,Caleb would wait for her at the airport. With trembling fingers,I open the location-sharing app on my phone. On the map,the blue dot is pulsing clearly at: 【JFK International Airport】

Caleb’s location stays at the airport hotel for three days. During those three days,Caleb sends me only one text: “Baby,the league called an emergency meeting.I’ll be back soon.” I pack my bags,ignoring the message. Chloe thinks there must be some misunderstanding,some hidden explanation. But I don’t care anymore. I scroll through Sienna’s secret account from the very beginning.Every word hits like an ice pick straight to the heart. 【Today he learned to make my favorite vanilla roasted chicken to welcome me home.】 That was the same stretch of time Caleb spent an entire week in the kitchen,burning batch after batch until he finally got it right. At the time,he smiled and told me, “I have to practice until it’s perfect.Only the best is worthy of my baby’s precious cellist hands.” … 【I want to have a daughter with him.We’ll name her Hope.】 That night,Caleb pressed close to my ear,his breath hot against my skin. “Baby,let’s have a child.Let’s name her Hope,okay?” … 【Always secretly wishing for a forever with you.Luckily,you want the same.】 That was the day I slipped Caleb’s engagement ring onto my finger. And in the photo attached,two hands clasped together under a streetlight.I recognized the watch on the man’s wrist.It was the limited-edition watch Caleb never took off.

Every single word matched up perfectly. It turned out I had been living in Sienna’s shadow all along. I drove to the airport. Even if it was over,I wanted to say it to his face. But the moment I stepped into the arrivals hall,I froze. Through the crowd,I saw them. Caleb’s back was to me. He was down on one knee,carefully tending to Sienna’s sprained ankle. After applying some ointment,he bowed his head,held her foot,and gently blew on it. Caleb had never once knelt down for me. Not like that. Swallowing the bitter burning in my throat,I walked toward them,step by step. “Caleb,the wedding is off.” He snapped his head up,panic instantly flooding his eyes when he saw me. “Ba—”He glanced quickly at Sienna and corrected himself. “Aurora,what are you doing here?” “Don’t get the wrong idea.I just bumped into an old college classmate at the airport.” My gaze bypassed Caleb and landed squarely on Sienna. She was indeed a seasoned reporter— she didn’t show a single trace of embarrassment or shame. Instead,she gracefully offered me her hand,her smile open and candid. “You must be Aurora.Hi,I’m Sienna,Caleb’s friend from college.” Like she had nothing to do with any of it. I didn’t take her hand. I kept my eyes on Caleb and repeated,”Cancel the wedding.” Caleb stiffened. “Just because I ran into an old classmate?Stop making a scene,Aurora.” Sienna let out a soft chuckle. “Aurora,please don’t misunderstand. I’m flying back to the West Coast right after the wedding.” Almost instinctively,Caleb grabbed her wrist. “Where are you going again?” “The Finals.” “Don’t go.Those events are way too chaotic.” Sienna pulled her hand out of his grip. “I just…need to see you happy with my own eyes before I can finally let go.” What a performance.Suddenly,my stomach violently churned.I bent over,dry-heaving. Only then did Caleb shift his attention to me,helping me sit down. He reached into his duffel bag,looking for something to help. I was about to tell him I was fine,when his eyes suddenly lit up,and he pulled me into his arms. “Aurora,you might be pregnant.” I froze.What a cruel,twisted joke the universe was playing on me. I looked over at Sienna. Sure enough,the color drained from her face. But a second later,she turned to Caleb,her voice going ice cold.”Caleb,Aurora is pregnant,and you’re still stressing her out? What kind of fiancéare you!” There wasn’t a single trace of pretense in her outrage.

The two of them in front of me only leave me deeper in confusion. If they’re so clearly in love,why drag me into the middle of it? And Sienna’s reaction didn’t seem like acting at all. In a daze,I let Caleb take me to get checked. Two months pregnant. There are only three days left until our wedding. The resolve I had to walk away begins to crack. When we get back to the house,Caleb stops dead.Sienna’s sketches are scattered across the floor,right beside my packed suitcase.He stared at them like he’d been struck by lightning. Then,right in front of me,he tears the sketchbook apart. “Sienna has always had a secret crush on me,”he says,desperate. “This has to be nothing but her own delusion.” “If you don’t want me anywhere near her,I’ll block her on everything after the wedding.No contact.Ever again.” Three years together.A new life growing inside me.In the end,I give in.I take my wedding leave and stay home to rest,taking it easy for the baby.I open Sienna’s secret account. The page has just been updated. 【Received the love letter he wrote.】 A love letter? My eyes instinctively drift toward the kitchen, where Caleb is carefully preparing food for me. My fingertips begin to tremble. Could it be that they…still haven’t cut ties?

Just then,my phone rings.It’s Chloe,her voice low and heavy.”Aurora,I need to see you right now.” In a quiet corner of a café,she slides an encrypted USB drive across the table to me. Just as I am about to plug it into my laptop,her hand presses down on mine. “Think carefully,”Chloe warns,her eyes searching mine. “Once you open Pandora’s box,there’s no going back.” I don’t hesitate for a second.I plug it in and go through every file.When I finally look up,my voice comes out shaking. “Chloe,help me book a doctor’s appointment.” When we return from the clinic,Chloe’s eyes are a mix of intense heartache and burning fury.”Aurora,let’s call off the wedding.I’ll help you.” “No.”A cold smirk plays at the corner of my lips. “Caleb has prepared such a grand,romantic gift for Sienna. How could I possibly not help him deliver it?” “Chloe,on the wedding day,help me contact all the major media outlets. Let’s have everyone witness this epic romance that played out across every arena in the country.” On the day of the wedding,the entire estate Caleb booked in the Hamptons is bustling with high-society guests. I had once tried to turn down such an extravagant affair. “Caleb,a simple wedding is enough.” But he had playfully pinched my nose,his voice dripping with affection. “Aurora,I want to give you the grandest wedding.I want all of New York to celebrate us.” I used to think this was his ultimate devotion. Only now do I realize that the person he wanted the world to see him with was someone else entirely. In the bridal suite,Sienna is waiting for me. She does my makeup with her own hands, and carefully helps me slip into the Vera Wang wedding gown she personally picked out for me. The makeup is flawless,the white dress breathtaking. Even the makeup artists standing by can’t help but gasp in admiration. But Sienna has no idea. The more perfect the illusion,the more lethal the poison hidden underneath.

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Inside the VIP fitting room of Vera Wang’s New York flagship, as three assistants gave up trying to zip my six-figure custom gown, the truth finally hit me: this grand wedding Julian Thorne had spun for me was a lie from the very start. He stood a few feet away, showing no remorse. All I saw was impatience. “Ava, is your personal trainer just for show? It’s a standard size.” He looked me over like a bad investment. “Whatever. The wedding is next week. Starve yourself for a few days, and you’ll squeeze into it.” Same old bullshit. Ever since his ex-girlfriend, Chloe, moved back to town, Julian had made a habit of treating me like an afterthought. Like the custom JAR perfume I got for my promotion. He gave it away without a second thought, only because Chloe played the ‘poor girl’ card. “Babe, it’s just a symbol. Order yourself another bottle. Don’t be so petty.” Or when he smiled and handed me an almond cookie, conveniently forgetting my lethal allergy. “Try it. Chloe says these are the best in New York.” Now, watching me suffocate in this ridiculous dress, he didn’t show a shred of guilt. Instead, he snapped a picture and sent it straight to Chloe. I silently slid the five-carat engagement ring off my finger. He must have forgotten something. He was the one who gave the designer the measurements. It wasn’t some “standard size.” It belonged to someone barely five-foot-three. Chloe. And me? I’m five-foot-eight with a healthy, athletic build. He loves problem solving? Good. Because starting today, his biggest problem is finding a new bride. …… Julian took the ring out of the velvet box. He spoke to me like he was soothing a disobedient pet. “Stop throwing a tantrum, Ava. You’re acting like a child.” He reached for my hand, trying to force the ring back on. I took a step back, dodging his grasp. “Fine. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have called you fat.” He acted like he was doing me a massive favor. “But every woman drops a few pounds to look good on camera. I’m looking out for you.” I stared at my reflection. The hemline hovered awkwardly around my calves. I looked utterly absurd. I didn’t say a word. This was the 99th time he had told me to “look at the bigger picture.” The past 98 times, I sucked it up. But this time? How the hell was I supposed to compromise? Chop off my own legs to fit into a dress that wasn’t even made for me?

“It’s just a bit short.” Julian circled behind me, slipping into his corporate problem-solver mode. “Have the designer alter it. I’ll pay for the rush fee.” The head designer gave an apologetic smile. “Mr. Thorne, we can take it in, but the proportions are fixed. We can’t change the length. Unless we switch to an off-the-rack gown.” “Off-the-rack?” Julian’s jaw tightened. “The wedding is next week. If we pivot to off-the-rack now, the press will have a field day. They’ll say Julian Thorne couldn’t even get his wife a dress that fits.” “Then postpone it.” My voice was cold. “Out of the question.” He shut it down instantly. Then, his face lit up with a brilliant idea. “You can grab a backup dress to walk down the aisle. As for this Vera Wang… let Chloe wear it as her bridesmaid gown. It’s practically her size anyway. No point letting it go to waste.” I almost laughed. “Since when is Chloe my bridesmaid?” “She’s all alone in New York. She wants to be part of the big day. Don’t be like that.” “My bridal party is full. Six girls. Who exactly is she replacing?” “Simple.” He didn’t even look up from his screen. “Just cut your college roommate… what’s her name… right, Harper. Drop her. She didn’t even show up to my party last time. You two aren’t that close.” “That’s because she was litigating a big case in London.” “Then cut someone else.” He finally looked up, annoyance written all over his face. “Ava, women swap out ‘best friends’ like last season’s handbags. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.” Right on cue, his phone buzzed. A FaceTime call. Chloe. His face immediately softened. He flipped the camera toward me. “Babe, look. Isn’t the gown gorgeous?”

I stood before the mirror, trapped in the wrong gown, listening to my fiancé and another woman plan my wedding. Like it was theirs. An assistant walked over, handing me a milkshake. “Miss Hayes, you look pale. Have some of this to keep your blood sugar up.” I was about to decline, but Julian had already hung up. He grabbed the cup and shoved the straw to my lips. “Drink. You’ve been going non-stop all morning.” Cold liquid slid down my throat. Then came the smell—the heavy scent of almonds. My eyes dropped to the cup, fixing on the brown flecks swirling in the milky white. All color drained from my face.

My throat clamped shut. A searing burn crawled up my neck. I was already gasping for air. “This is… almond!” I grabbed his sleeve, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “My… EpiPen…” Julian stared at the empty cup, turning deathly pale. “How the hell is it almond…” He tore through my handbag. “The EpiPen…” His eyes darted away. “Last time you said it was expiring soon, I took it out. Chloe was stressed and sleep-deprived, so I… I gave it to her to keep by the bed. Just in case.” “I’m taking you to the ER!” He threw an arm around me, rushing me toward the door. Right then, his phone rang. Julian glanced at the screen. He pushed me aside to answer it. “What? Your stomach hurts? From that juice?” I slumped against the icy wall. The world began to blur. All I could hear was a deafening ringing in my ears. Seconds later, Julian hung up, sheer panic in his eyes. “Look, Chloe drank your strawberry juice. She’s having severe stomach cramps. She’s by herself, Ava. I need to go to her, I can’t risk it.” He shoved his Black Card into my hand. “Call an Uber. Go to the nearest private ER and put it on my card. I’ll check on you later!” And with that, he bolted. He jumped into his Bentley and took off without looking back.

The suffocation was crushing me. I fumbled for my phone with shaking hands. The screen lit up. A push notification from Instagram flashed. It was Chloe’s latest post. In the photo, Julian was standing in an apartment kitchen, awkwardly wearing an apron, cooking something for her. The caption read: “True love isn’t what he says. It’s what he does.” Posted three days ago. I had a 102-degree fever that day. I begged him to heat up some soup for me. Yet he just handed me a room service menu. “Babe, order the truffle soup from the hotel. Room service makes it way better than I ever could. I can barely boil water.” It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook. He simply wouldn’t do it for me. My legs finally gave out. Before everything went black… I heard the horrified screams of the assistants, and the distant wailing of an ambulance.

I woke up to glaring hospital lights the next morning. A nurse was swapping out my IV bag. “A good Samaritan brought you in. Your airway was shut. You barely made it. We tried calling your emergency contact, Mr. Thorne… but it went straight to voicemail.” I shook my head. The number wasn’t wrong. The man was. I pulled up Julian’s number, ready to type out two words: We’re done. But before I hit send, the door swung open. Julian hurried in. Chloe trailed close behind him, looking pale and frail. When she saw me, she rushed to the bed with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh my god, Ava! You scared me half to death! When Julian told me you were in the ER, I made him bring me straight here.” She looked me up and down. Her eyes lingered on my swollen, blotchy face. Then, a giggle slipped out. “You know… you look kind of cute like this. Like an angry pufferfish.” She laughed and leaned into Julian’s chest. His mouth twitched, then froze under my dead stare. “But seriously, Ava.” Chloe covered her mouth, her eyes darting between us. “If you’re still swollen like this… what about the wedding? We can’t let Julian be the laughingstock of Wall Street, right?”

I instantly caught her drift. So, I filled in the blanks for her. “Yeah. How do you suggest we save Julian from embarrassment?” “Well…” Chloe looked down, biting her lip. “What if someone stood in for you? You know…to walk down the aisle.” “Exactly!” Julian snapped his fingers. “That’s it! Chloe will wear the dress and walk the aisle for you. You can stay home and rest. It’s purely a PR stunt, Ava. For the sake of both our families’ reputations.” He was getting carried away. “This way, Chloe doesn’t have to take a bridesmaid slot. Two birds, one stone! The ceremony is just a show anyway. We need to do some solid damage control.” He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to nod. My hands clenched. Blood backed up into my IV tube. Compromise? No. In his corporate sociopath brain, this was “risk management.” The “optimal solution.” A stand-in dress. And now, a stand-in bride. Right then, I was genuinely grateful. Grateful for that wrong-sized gown. Grateful for that lethal almond shake. They snapped me awake right on time. I looked at Julian. “Okay.” Julian and Chloe both breathed a sigh of relief. They smiled. I smiled too. They smiled because their little “PR crisis” was solved. I smiled because my new life was finally going to begin.

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Six years ago, to keep from dragging down my boyfriend while he was building his startup, I cruelly told him I had fallen in love with someone else. He was completely heartbroken by me, went overseas, and never came back. Six years later, he returned home with his fiancée to get married. And I had also received the death sentence from the hospital. Late-stage ovarian cancer, malignant ascites, and even a loose oversized hoodie could not hide my painfully swollen belly. When my ex-boyfriend saw me, his gaze fell on my stomach, and he let out a scoff. “So you really were in love with someone else back then. Which pregnancy is this for you now?” He looked around, and there was only me sitting alone in a wheelchair. “What, he knocked you up but would not even marry you?” I lowered my head and gently touched my swollen belly. Inside it was only more than ten pounds of malignant ascites that could never be fully drained. It was not a child. I smiled bitterly and lied, “I am almost due. He is busy with work and does not have time to come with me.” He did not know that I was dying. He also did not know that we really did once have a child.

The last trace of complexity in his eyes turned completely into mockery. “Lily, you really have not changed at all. For money, you will go with any man.” “You abandoned me back then, and now you have ended up like this. You deserve it.” The fiancée beside him gently held his arm and advised him in a low voice. “Forget it. It is all in the past.” But he gave a cold laugh. “The past? I will never forget how she looked down on me for being poor back then and turned around to get into another man’s car.” I did not explain. Because the car he was talking about was an ambulance. That day, I had just gotten my test results, and the doctor told me there was a malignant tumor on my ovary and that I had to be hospitalized immediately. And he was running everywhere, begging people for help for a multimillion-dollar project. I did not dare tell him. Back then, he could not even take three thousand dollars out of his bank account, yet he stayed up until dawn every day, just so he could save enough for a down payment sooner and marry me. I was afraid he would give up on his startup, afraid he would sell his company, afraid he would ruin his whole life to save me. So I deliberately held my attending doctor’s arm and said to him, “I have fallen in love with someone else.” With red eyes, he slammed his fist into the wall. “Lily, you are going to regret this.” Later, he really left. He went abroad and became the rising business star everyone talked about. And I stayed alone in the hospital, going through surgery, chemotherapy, relapse, and chemotherapy again. Until today. The doctor told me there was no point in continuing treatment anymore. He told me to go home, eat whatever I wanted, and meet whoever I wanted to see. But the only person I wanted to see was standing right in front of me. Yet he would never believe me again. After returning to the hospital room, I lay down on the bed with the help of my attending doctor. Ethan’s mother came to find me. As soon as she entered, she looked at me tentatively, hesitant to speak. “Lily, I… I have a favor to ask.” Looking at her flushed face, even though she did not say what came next, I knew her reason for coming was probably the same as it had been six years ago. “Go ahead.” Her eyes instantly turned red. “Ethan has really suffered so much these years.” “After you left back then, he did not recover for two whole years. Later, he went overseas alone, worked during the day, built his business at night, and collapsed from exhaustion so many times that he ended up in the hospital, but he never said a word to us.” “Now, it was not easy for him to finally have a stable career, and he has also met someone willing to stay with him. He is about to get married.” As she spoke, tears fell. “Lily, just take it as me begging you.” “Do not go looking for him again, and do not tell him about your illness.” “Just let him think that you have been living well all these years.” “That way, it is better for you and for him.” I listened quietly without speaking. But the attending doctor could not help frowning. “Ma’am, this is not fair…” I gently shook my head, signaling for him not to speak. But Ethan’s mother seemed to have caught on to something, and her eyes swept back and forth between me and the attending doctor. She suddenly lowered her voice and muttered softly. “He protects her so much…” “Who knows if the two of you have been together for a long time.” “Now this male doctor stays with her every day. Who knows what kind of relationship they have…” The hospital room instantly fell silent. The attending doctor’s face darkened at once. “Please show some respect when you speak!” “Ms. Bennett is my patient. Taking care of her is my duty as a doctor!” “And as for why she became like this today, others may not know, but you—” “Enough!” Using all my strength, I reached out with my hand that was so thin only bones were left and gently pulled the attending doctor’s sleeve. He lowered his head to look at me, his eyes already red with anger. I gently shook my head at him. I slowly turned my head and looked at Ethan’s mother. I could clearly see the guardedness in her eyes, the caution, and that tiny bit of fear that her son might be entangled with me again. So that was how it was. Even though I was already about to die. In her eyes, I was still the person who would ruin her son’s life. I held back the ache in my eyes and gave a soft smile. “I will not go looking for him.” “And I will not tell him about my illness.” “From now on, I will try my best not to appear in front of him again.” “Let him get married in peace and live his life in peace.” “Just pretend…” My voice was so soft it could barely be heard. “Just pretend we never knew each other.” “Anyway, I am dying soon.”

After seeing Ethan’s mother off, I felt as if all the strength had been drained out of my body. The nurse adjusted my IV, and the attending doctor gave me another painkiller shot. Soon, I fell into a heavy, hazy sleep. I did not know how long I had slept when a familiar voice suddenly came from outside the hospital room. “Is Lily hospitalized because she is about to give birth?” My eyes snapped open, and my breath caught slightly. It was Ethan. I stared blankly at the ceiling, and for a moment, I thought I was dreaming. Six years ago, he hated me to the bone. On the day we broke up, he knelt in front of me, his eyes red, begging me again and again. “Lily, tell me. Did I do something wrong? I will change. I will change anything.” I bit my lip hard and did not dare look into his eyes. At that time, fluid had already begun collecting in my abdomen, and my lower belly had started to bulge slightly. I lowered my head, touched my stomach, hardened my heart, and said to him, “I am already pregnant with another man’s child.” He stared blankly at my stomach, and the color drained from his face little by little. After a long time, he finally asked in a hoarse voice, “When did it happen?” I forced myself to lift the corners of my mouth. “I got together with him not long after I met him.” “He has more money than you, more ability than you, and a better future than you.” “Ethan, I never planned to suffer with you.” Every word was like a knife stabbing into my heart. After he heard it, he turned and left. I watched his back, and my tears would not stop falling. From then on, he treated me as the person he hated most. Whenever someone mentioned my name in front of him, he would cut them off with a cold face. “Do not mention her. Just hearing her name makes me sick.” Later, on the day he went abroad, I still secretly went to the airport. Through the crowd, he saw me. But right in front of me, he only smashed the couple rings we had bought together and the phone full of our photos hard onto the ground, then turned and boarded the plane without looking back again. I had always thought that in this lifetime, he would never take the initiative to see me again. But I never expected that he would actually come to the hospital. With his fiancée, Susie. Susie was already three months pregnant. So he had brought her here for a prenatal checkup. Her gaze landed on my high, swollen abdomen, and her eyes lit up as she smiled and walked a few steps closer. “Ms. Bennett, are you here to wait for delivery too?” I instinctively tugged down my hospital gown, wanting to cover my swollen abdomen. Before I could speak, Susie gently stroked her own belly and smiled with a face full of happiness. “This is my first pregnancy, so I do not understand anything.” “I heard from Ethan that you have given birth to quite a few children over the past six years.” “You must have a lot of experience, right?” I clenched the corner of the blanket tightly, and my knuckles slowly turned pale. Ethan stood to the side, his indifferent gaze falling on my stomach as a mocking curve lifted at the corner of his mouth. “Exactly.” “Since you have so much experience, teach Susie.” “After all, she is not like certain people who can casually get pregnant with another man’s child.” Susie seemed not to notice the atmosphere and still looked completely serious. “Ms. Bennett, is late pregnancy especially hard?” “Do you sleep badly at night?” “And giving birth, does it really hurt?” “By the way, where is your husband?” She looked around, and besides the doctor and nurse, there was no one else in the room. A trace of surprise flashed in her eyes. “Why is he not here with you?” Ethan scoffed. “What other reason could there be?” “Of course he does not want her anymore.” “For someone like her, it is already lucky if anyone is willing to take responsibility once.” I slowly lowered my head. My hand gently covered my high, swollen belly. My eyes turned red little by little. There had once… Really been a child living there. That was the last piece of good news the doctor told me before chemotherapy. He said I was pregnant. It was also bad news. The tumor had spread too quickly, and the baby was developing slowly. Everyone told me to terminate the pregnancy immediately, but I held my belly and wanted to keep the child. Unfortunately, in the end, my child with him was still lost because of my illness. The baby became a pool of blood. I cried so hard I could not say a complete sentence. I lost him. And I also lost the chance to ever become a mother. And now, what was swollen high in my abdomen was not a child. It was only more than ten pounds of malignant ascites that could never be fully drained. But I could not say a single word of this. I raised my head and forced out a smile. “Pregnancy… is indeed very hard.” “I hope your child can be born safely and smoothly.” At that moment, my best friend Zoey came in carrying fruit, and when she saw Ethan and Susie, her face changed. Her lips and teeth trembled several times before she roared one sentence at Ethan. “Fuck you. You and your mother are both shameless as hell!” “Do you even know that Lily, Lily she…” Hearing her choked voice, my heart tightened sharply, and I propped myself up to sit. “Zoey, I will tell them myself.”

Zoey looked at me with red eyes, her lips trembling, but in the end, she still lowered her head, gritted her teeth hard, and swallowed all her words back down. I slowly raised my head and looked at Ethan. We had not seen each other in six years, and he had become much more mature than before. The young man who once stayed up until his eyes were bloodshot for a project now wore a crisp suit, his brows and eyes cold, and every gesture carried the calm confidence of a successful man. That was good. He had finally become the person he wanted to be. It was just that I probably would not be able to watch him much longer. I looked greedily at his face, as if I wanted to carve his appearance into my mind bit by bit. After this, I would never see him again. But Ethan frowned under my gaze, and a trace of disgust flashed in his eyes. “Have you looked enough?” I withdrew my gaze, lowered my head, and gently stroked my high, swollen abdomen. Under my palm was cold and heavy ascites. But in my mind, another tiny life that had disappeared long ago surfaced. That child only stayed in my body for a short few dozen days. During that time, I secretly downloaded countless pregnancy apps. Every day, I would look up which fruits I could eat, what things I had to avoid, when the baby would start moving, and how to sleep in late pregnancy… Later, the child was gone. But I never forgot that knowledge. I gave a soft smile. “Okay. I will carefully teach you what to pay attention to during pregnancy.” Susie’s eyes immediately lit up. She pulled Ethan to sit by the bed like a student listening carefully in class. I suppressed the bitterness surging in my throat and said softly, “Do not overwork yourself in the first trimester, and do not stay up late.” “Keep taking folic acid, keep your diet as light as possible, and eat less cold and raw food…” I paused, and my voice grew softer and softer. “A pregnant woman’s emotions are very important. Her family should spend more time with her.” “Do not let her overthink alone.” I looked at Susie’s slightly swollen belly, and my nose stung. “After the baby is born, their stomach is very fragile for the first three months. Remember to burp the baby after feeding, do not make the bathwater too hot, and do not cover the baby with too many blankets at night…” These were things I had once imagined I would tell Ethan myself one day. I would tell him how we should take care of our baby in the future. But now, the person beside him was no longer me. A scoff suddenly sounded in the hospital room. Ethan leaned back in his chair and looked at me with a faint, mocking smile. “You sure know a lot.” “Looks like you have given birth plenty of times these past few years.” The air instantly froze. My fingertips tightened little by little. He said coldly, “Since you have so much experience.” “Let me ask you one more question.” He spoke slowly, his tone full of ridicule. “During pregnancy, can a couple still have sex?” My face instantly turned white. I bit my lip hard, my nails almost digging into my palm, and I was so humiliated that I could not say a word. Ethan looked at my pale face, and there was not the slightest warmth in his eyes. “What?” “Should you not have the most say in this kind of question?” “Or did none of your men teach you?” Every word was like a dull knife cutting my heart open inch by inch. I lowered my head, tears spinning in my eyes, but they never fell. After waiting a long time without getting my answer, Ethan gave a cold laugh. “Forget it.” “Asking you only dirties Susie’s ears.” After he finished speaking, he reached out and pulled Susie into his arms, the movement natural and gentle. “Let’s go.” “The air here is bad. Do not let it affect the baby.” Susie looked back at me once, hesitant to speak, but in the end, she still followed him out of the hospital room. The hospital room door slowly closed. I stared blankly at their backs as they left hand in hand. His hand was carefully protecting another girl’s belly. That place had once belonged to me. Tears rolled down without warning. Although I had known for a long time that this day would come. But when I saw it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears, the man who once said he would stay with me for the rest of my life had already given all his tenderness to another girl. My heart still hurt so bitterly that I could barely breathe.

Ethan messaged me and asked me to help Susie choose a postpartum care center. The agreed time was nine in the morning. For this meeting, I woke up at six in the morning. Zoey washed my hair for me, carefully helped me put on my wig, and picked out the loosest cream-colored hoodie to cover my swollen belly. She looked at my bloodless, pale face, and her nose stung. “Lily, why don’t you just not go?” “Your body right now…” I smiled and interrupted her. “I will go.” “Did we not agree that I would go with them to look at postpartum care centers?” “I looked up a lot of information. I can help at least a little.” Zoey lowered her head, and her eyes slowly reddened. At eight thirty, she pushed my wheelchair and brought me downstairs to the hospital entrance. But I waited until one in the afternoon. Ethan never appeared. I called him three times. Every time, he hung up without mercy. Zoey was so angry her eyes turned red. “What does he mean? He is clearly the one who asked you to meet!” “Lily, let’s go back. Do not wait anymore.” But I gently shook my head. “No.” I looked at the people coming and going at the hospital entrance and said softly, “Going out this time has already used up so much of my strength.” “After this is over, I might… never be able to leave again.” Zoey abruptly turned her head and secretly wiped away her tears. At two in the afternoon. My phone finally vibrated. On the other end of the call was Ethan’s cold voice. “Come down. We are here.” Zoey clenched her fists, furious enough to curse. But I gently held her hand. “Zoey.” “This is the last time.” She looked at me, and in the end, she still forced all her anger down. The car door opened. As soon as I sat in the back seat, Susie turned around and smiled at me. “Sorry, Ms. Bennett.” “Ethan kept me up too late last night.” She blushed and laughed softly. “I could not get out of bed this morning, so I made you wait so long.” My fingers curled slightly. Before I could say anything. Ethan, who was putting the wheelchair away from the driver’s seat, glanced at me lightly through the rearview mirror. “Why explain that to her?” “If she is willing to wait, let her wait.” The car suddenly fell silent. Zoey’s face turned ashen, and just as she was about to speak, I gently pulled her back. I only waved at her through the car window as she stood by the road. “Go back.” Zoey gritted her teeth as tears kept falling. “Call me when it is over.” I nodded. The car slowly drove away from the hospital. Along the way, Ethan drove very fast. He pressed hard on the gas, and he did not slow down when turning. My body was thrown against the car door again and again, and my large belly filled with ascites throbbed dully with pain while my stomach churned violently. I gripped the seat belt tightly, and a layer of cold sweat soon formed on my forehead. But suddenly, many years ago appeared before my eyes. Back then, Ethan had just gotten his driver’s license. He was so excited that for an entire week, he insisted on taking me out for drives. Knowing I got carsick, he would prepare orange candy and motion sickness patches in advance. Every time he started or braked, he did it so gently that I could barely feel it. He said, “My Lily is delicate. It hurts me even if she bumps into something.” For many years after that. I would get carsick on buses, and I would get carsick in taxis. Only when I sat in his car did I never feel uncomfortable. “Screech—” A sharp braking sound suddenly rang out. My body slammed hard against the seatback. A violent cramping pain shot through my abdomen. I covered my mouth and could not help letting out a suppressed groan. Ethan looked at me through the rearview mirror and suddenly scoffed. “What?” “You do not still think I will take care of you like before, do you?” “Try not to drive fast, not brake suddenly, and not make you carsick?” I slowly closed my eyes and swallowed the bloody sweetness in my throat bit by bit. After a long while, I finally spoke softly. “No.” “The person you should take care of now is Susie.” “She is pregnant with your baby. She cannot be frightened.” A cold curve lifted at the corner of Ethan’s lips. “At least you know your place.” After he said that, he once again pressed heavily on the gas. The car suddenly shot forward. My body slammed back against the seat again. My back hurt as if it were splitting open. But I slowly smiled. This was good. He was still willing to hate me. Hate was better than forgetting. At least while I was still alive. In Ethan’s heart, I was not a complete stranger yet.

After that, I did not feel sick for long before we arrived at our destination. When I got out of the car, Ethan carried me. When I fell into his arms again, for one instant, I almost could not hold back my tears. But fortunately, after Ethan quickly carried me out of the car, he immediately placed me in the wheelchair. He even seemed disgusted by me, and after putting me in the wheelchair, he urgently asked Susie for two wet wipes and wiped his hands desperately. Susie also stood to the side and awkwardly explained to me. “Sorry, Lily. Ethan is a clean freak. Other than me, if any woman touches him, he feels disgusted.” Looking at Ethan’s actions, I lowered my head and pressed my lips together, pretending I had not seen what he did and had not heard Susie’s words. After that, I let Ethan and Susie hold hands while pushing me into a postpartum care center. As soon as we walked into the lobby, a staff member greeted us warmly. “Mr. Reed, Mrs. Reed, welcome. Thank you for coming to visit.” “This way, please. We will first show you the recovery area for mothers, then the newborn care room.” Ethan nodded. Susie happily held his arm. And I silently followed behind them. Along the way, the staff member kept explaining. “We offer twenty-four-hour one-on-one care here.” “Newborn baths, baby massage, jaundice monitoring, and postpartum nutrition meals will all be handled by a professional team.” “After the baby is born, the father can also learn how to take care of the child with us.” Listening to the staff member’s words. My heart felt bitter. Because I had looked all of this up back then. I had even bought a thick copy of a newborn care handbook. But later, that book was never opened again. The staff member led us into a model room. Inside the room were a crib, tiny clothes, and all kinds of bottles and toys. The staff member smiled and said, “Mrs. Reed, you can experience the environment for your postpartum recovery in advance.” Susie nodded with a face full of happiness. Ethan suddenly said, “I am going to the restroom.” After that, Ethan did not look at me again, nor did he look at Susie. He turned and walked toward the restroom. And as I looked at his back, waves of bitterness rose in my heart again. So. Had I messed up again? Guilt spread through my chest. But Susie, who was sitting across from me, directly picked up a cup of hot water and suddenly splashed it onto my face. “You fake little bitch, do you think I am stupid?” “You keep pretending to be pitiful again and again to seduce my fiancé.” The cheek Susie splashed with hot water began to ache. But I only clenched my palm tightly. Then I said guiltily, “I am sorry.” “If I made you misunderstand, I apologize.” Susie only stood up with a mocking laugh. After that, she walked over and slapped me across the face. “Do you think that by acting like you are about to die, you can make Ethan change his mind?” “I am telling you, Ethan will be mine for the rest of his life.” “Do not think you can take him away just because you were his first love.” My cheek hurt and went numb from Susie’s slap. I could endure her splashing water on me. After all, I was shamelessly clinging to Ethan’s tenderness. But she could not hit me. So without thinking, I pushed her away. “Susie, if you dare lay a hand on me again, I will call the police.” But the moment my words fell. For some reason, Susie suddenly fell to the ground. Then she suddenly began to wail. “Ow, my stomach.” “Help! Someone is attacking a pregnant woman.” I looked at her lying on the ground and stared at my own hands in disbelief. After all, I had been sick for six years. Even putting on clothes exhausted me. Sometimes I could not even hold a cup of water steadily. I did not have the strength to push Susie down at all. When I pushed her just now, it had only been to stop her from hitting me again. But who would have known. Susie suddenly lay down on the ground. And just when I was at a loss. Ethan suddenly appeared in the lobby. When he saw Susie lying on the ground. He rushed toward Susie anxiously. “Susie, Susie, how are you?” Susie immediately started crying. Crying, she gripped Ethan’s collar tightly. “Ethan, save me. Save the baby in my belly.” “She wants to kill me.” “As soon as you left, she started insulting me, saying you were trash she did not want, and that whenever she wanted you back, you would shamelessly crawl back to beg her.” “I could not hold it in. I could not hold it in, so I splashed a cup of water on her.” “But who knew she would get even angrier and start cursing at me, calling me a vicious fake bitch and saying I am a slut who only picks up men she threw away.” “I could not hold back, so I slapped her.” “After that, she angrily pushed me away.” “You know I am pregnant, and my health is not good. I cannot take even the slightest bump.” Listening to Susie’s words. I froze in shock where I was. My lips and teeth trembled several times before I could speak. “Ethan, listen to me. It was not like that.” “I… I really did not.” But who knew. Ethan erupted in a furious roar. “Lily, how can you be so vicious?” As he spoke. He walked over and angrily kicked me hard. My head slammed heavily into the corner of the display cabinet. Blood instantly surged out. My head buzzed. Even my body was trembling. But Ethan did not look at me once. He only anxiously picked Susie up. As Susie cried, he anxiously kissed the corner of her lips. “It is okay, baby. It is okay. Do not cry.” “I will take you to the hospital right now.” After that. He did not look at me again. He turned and carried Susie toward the door. And I looked at Susie’s provocative smile. And Ethan’s back. Suddenly, I laughed. I laughed until tears flowed out. This also made me think of the year we were eighteen. A man on the bus had harassed me and grabbed my butt. Back then, Ethan was still an impulsive young guy. Furious, he grabbed that man, who was a head taller than him and much stronger than him. Like an enraged beast. He punched that man’s face again and again. “You worthless piece of trash. How dare you touch my woman?” “I am going to beat you to death.” At that time, all the passengers on the bus were frightened. Only I cried as I held Ethan’s arm tightly. I begged him. I cried and told him to stop, and only then did Ethan stop. Before, Ethan’s woman was me. So he would protect me with his life. Now, the person in Ethan’s heart had become another woman. So he would protect her with his life. Even if the person he hit was me. My heart hurt so badly it trembled. The staff members around the postpartum care center gradually gathered around too. After that, the police came. The moment I saw the police appear. My strength suddenly drained away. I gripped the officer’s hand tightly and said, “Tell my family not to pursue this.” “This was all my own choice.” My heart felt bitter. But for some reason. I had no regrets anymore. After all, I had fought cancer for seven years. And I had waited for seven years. My greatest dream was just to see Ethan once. I saw him, so my dream came true. I could die smiling now.

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For three years, I lived a double life. Married, a baby, a cozy home it was a sweeter slice of heaven than I ever deserved. The only catch? My mother didn’t have a clue. And who is my mother? Victoria Langford, the undisputed matriarch and CEO of Langford Enterprises. A corporate titan, ruthless and absolute. If she cleared her throat in the boardroom, thirty executives would instantly applaud the melody. Her blueprint for my life was pristine: an Ivy League degree, a prestigious European internship, a strategic marriage to Charlotte Mercer heiress to the Mercer shipping empire and eventually, taking over her throne. But my actual life path? I came back to the States, quietly slipped a ring onto Maeve’s finger, had a son, and spent my nights stumbling out of bed at 3 a.m. to mix baby formula. Today, those two paths collided. Head-on. And everything shattered into a million pieces. … At exactly 7:12 a.m., my son, Ollie, woke up burning hot. 103 degrees Fahrenheit. Maeve had tried calling me six times. I missed every single one. My phone was on silent, and I was dead to the world, trying to catch up on sleep on the Amtrak Acela. I wasn’t slacking off; I was actually on a business trip. A high-stakes deal in Chicago. My mother was pulling the strings from Boston, and I was her boots on the ground. The moment I woke up and saw the six missed calls, followed by Maeve’s texts, I bolted upright so fast I nearly hit the ceiling of the train. The texts read as follows: “Willy, Ollie’s fever is at 103.” “The ER queue is a three-hour wait minimum.” “Your phone is dead.” “I’m taking him to the office.” “If you aren’t back today, don’t bother coming back at all.” The last message was from ten minutes ago. I stared at my screen, my brain scrambling to process the impending disaster. Maeve was bringing the baby to the office. Maeve worked at Langford Enterprises in the design department. The CEO of Langford Enterprises was my mother. My mother didn’t know Maeve was my wife. My mother didn’t know she had a grandson. In my head, Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony started playing. “Dun-dun-dun-dun.” I frantically dialed Maeve’s number. No answer. I tried again. Still nothing. My hands began to shake. Look, I’m not a coward. Okay, maybe I am. But anyone who knows Victoria Langford knows she’s the kind of woman who can reduce a sixty-year-old board member to tears without raising her voice. Keeping a secret marriage and a child from her wasn’t just a minor omission; it was dancing on a landmine. I desperately rebooked my ticket to the next train heading back to Boston, then typed out a message to Maeve: “Maeve, please, breathe. Whatever you do, do not go near my mother. I’m on my way back right now.” The status bubble popped up: “Read.” No reply. Just “Read.” Those four letters made my skin crawl far more than Ollie’s 103-degree fever. Meanwhile, in the design department on the fourth floor of Langford Enterprises. Maeve cradled a flushed, sluggish Ollie in her arms, her face pale with exhaustion. Ollie’s cheeks were bright red, his little body limp against her shoulder, letting out occasional, pathetic whimpers. Her original plan had been simple: leave him tucked quietly in the stroller next to her desk, finish the final rendering on her design pitch, submit it, and sprint out the door. Diane, her senior colleague, leaned over, her voice a hushed, panicked whisper. “Maeve, are you out of your mind? Bringing a baby to the office? If HR or corporate sees this, they’ll dock your performance bonus in a heartbeat.” Maeve expertly patted a cool fever patch onto Ollie’s forehead. “The clinic has a three-hour wait list. His father’s phone is completely dead. And if I don’t turn in this layout today, the whole team loses their quarterly bonus.” Her voice was steady, but Diane could hear the tremor beneath it the quiet, dangerous calm before a hurricane. “Where is your husband? Where the hell is he when you need him?” “Out of town,” Maeve said, forcing the words through clenched teeth. Diane didn’t dare push further. Honestly, things could have gone smoothly. Maeve’s design was ninety percent complete, and Ollie was resting quietly, barely making a sound. And then Trevor walked in. Trevor was the newly appointed executive secretary to the Chairwoman. An Ivy League graduate in a bespoke navy suit, with every strand of hair gelled into submission. He’d only been with the company for two weeks, but he had already managed to make the entire administrative pool despise him. He had one defining trait: he was an absolute master at sucking up to upper management. And his favorite way to do that was by throwing his subordinates under the bus. As he strutted past the design department, he caught sight of the stroller through the glass wall. Ollie was inside, sleepily chewing on his own toes. Trevor’s eyes lit up. It was the look of a predator who had finally found the perfect victim to exploit for a gold star. He pushed open the heavy glass door, his leather oxfords clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. “Whose kid is this?” The room fell dead silent. Everyone looked up from their screens. Maeve’s fingers paused over her keyboard. “Mine,” she said. Trevor walked straight to her desk, pulled a sheet of paper from his leather portfolio, and slapped it down right in front of her. “Suspension notice.” Maeve looked down at the paper, then raised her head. Her eyes were chips of dry ice. “Excuse me?” Trevor raised his voice, ensuring his authority echoed across the entire floor. “Maeve, is it? Design department? What do you think this place is? A daycare?” He glanced down at Ollie in the stroller, his lip curling in disgust. “Bringing your little bastard to a corporate office. Unbelievable.” The word “bastard” hung in the air. The temperature in the design bay plummeted to freezing. Diane’s mouth fell open. Across the aisle, another designer accidentally spilled his iced coffee directly onto his mechanical keyboard. A bastard. He had actually called him a bastard. Maeve’s eyes narrowed into thin slits. Anyone who truly knew Maeve knew that when her eyes narrowed like that, someone was about to get a metaphorical throat-slash. But Trevor didn’t know her. He kept riding his high horse. “Think of the optics. Look at the rest of your colleagues ” Maeve stood up. Her ergonomic chair rolled back violently, clattering against the filing cabinet. She bent down and lifted Ollie from the stroller. He was burning up, mumble-whimpering into her neck. “Suspension, is it?” Maeve’s voice was barely a whisper. “Fine.” She picked up the suspension notice, folded it neatly into a tight square, and slid it directly into the breast pocket of Trevor’s designer suit. “Hold onto this. You’re going to need it.” Then, she turned and walked toward the executive elevators, cradling the baby. Trevor frowned, his face flushing. “Where do you think you’re going?” Maeve didn’t turn around. “To talk to your boss.” 2 Five minutes later. The executive suite. Victoria Langford was in the middle of a high-level meeting with three senior vice presidents. She sat in her black leather executive chair, twirling a classic Montblanc pen, marking up the quarterly reports. At fifty-five, she was immaculate. Her presence alone had a physical weight that made people unconsciously hold their breath. No one dared waste her time. Last month, a department head had used the word “basically” three times during a pitch, and she had immediately reassigned him to logistics. “Our Q3 margins are unacceptable,” Victoria said, flipping a page. “VP Harrison, I’d love to hear your explanation.” The executive opened his mouth to speak. “Bam!” The double doors didn’t just open they were kicked. A heel had slammed into the wood, sending the brass handles rattling against the wall. Every head in the room whipped around. Maeve stood in the doorway, holding a flushed, half-awake baby. Her hair was slightly disheveled, her breathing shallow, but her gaze was rock solid. The Montblanc pen in Victoria’s hand froze. “Who are you?” Maeve didn’t answer. She walked straight past the VPs, stepped up to the mahogany desk, and laid Ollie gently on top of the polished wood. Gently. Firmly. As if she weren’t placing a two-year-old child down, but a ticking bomb. “Mrs. Langford,” Maeve said, her voice quiet but heavy enough to crack the floorboards. “Your grandson is sick.” The air in the office died. The three vice presidents exchanged looks of sheer, unadulterated terror. Victoria blinked. Once. Twice. “What did you just say?” “The son you raised so well,” Maeve said, her words dropping like lead weights, “hasn’t been home in three months. His son has a 103-degree fever, and his phone is completely dead.” She took a step back, locking eyes with the matriarch. “This is your mess now. Deal with it.” Silence. A suffocating, five-second void. Ollie stirred on the mahogany desk, blinking sleepily at his surroundings. He looked up at Victoria. In his feverish haze, his tiny hands instinctively reached out to the nearest adult. “Up…” Victoria didn’t move. Her eyes traveled from Ollie’s face, down to his small hands, and back up. The shape of his eyes. The curve of his nose. He looked exactly like Willy had at that age. Victoria’s knuckles turned white around her pen. Then, she did something the vice presidents would talk about for the rest of their corporate lives. “VP Harrison, VP Miller, VP Cole,” she said, her voice cold enough to freeze water mid-air. “Get out.” The three men practically fell over themselves running for the exit. The moment the heavy oak doors clicked shut, they huddled in the hallway. “Did I hear that right?” Harrison whispered. “Did she say grandson?” “The Chairwoman’s grandson?” Miller swallowed hard. “Does that mean Willy…?” Cole was already pulling out his phone. “I need to call my wife. This is too big to keep to myself.” Inside the office, Victoria stared at Maeve, her gaze sharp enough to pierce steel. “What is your name?” “Maeve. Design department.” “And you expect me to believe this is my grandson?” “We’re legally married.” Maeve reached into her tote bag, pulled out a manila folder, and laid two sheets of paper on the desk. A copy of their marriage certificate. A copy of Ollie’s birth certificate. Victoria looked down. On the certificate: “Spouse A: Willy Langford. Spouse B: Maeve Langford.” Date of registration: Three years ago. On the birth certificate: “Oliver Langford.” Victoria stared at the name for ten seconds. “Willy picked the name?” “Yes. But we call him Ollie at home.” Victoria took a deep, shuddering breath. Then another. She stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, and turned her back to Maeve. A thirty-second silence filled the room. Maeve didn’t budge. On the desk, Ollie began to squirm, his little hand grabbing the Montblanc pen and shoving it straight into his mouth. “Let me ask you something,” Victoria said, her voice low and dangerous. “You married him three years ago. Which means that idiot never actually left the country.” It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. “He did go to London,” Maeve corrected calmly. “But only for six months. Once we got married, he stayed right here in Boston.” “Then what about the photos he sent me every month? The academic symposiums? The dinners with his advisors?” “Photoshopped,” Maeve said, completely unfazed. “I edited them for him.” Victoria whipped around. Her expression was a magnificent tapestry of shock, fury, disbelief, and a tiny, stubborn spark of curiosity she refused to acknowledge. “You helped him lie to me?” “He begged me.” “And you just did it because he begged?” Maeve’s lips pressed into a thin line. “When I married him, he swore on his knees he’d tell you within a year. But one year turned into two, and two turned into three. Every time I threatened to come clean, he’d literally cling to my legs and cry.” Victoria’s eye twitched. Her son. The handpicked heir to Langford Enterprises. Her pride and joy. Clinging to his wife’s legs and sobbing. Victoria marched back to her desk, picked up the landline receiver, and dialed with enough force to crack the plastic. It rang. Once. Twice. He picked up. “Willy,” Victoria said, her voice deceptively calm. On the other end, Willy was sweating profusely, standing between the train cars on the Amtrak. “Mom…” “Where are you right now?” “I’m… on my way back.” “How long?” “An… an hour…” “I’m giving you forty minutes.” She slammed the receiver down and immediately picked up her personal cell, speed-dialing her driver. “Hank, take the car to South Station. Pick up my idiot son. Tell him if he isn’t in my office in forty minutes, he shouldn’t bother showing his face in this city again.” Standing nearby, Maeve watched the execution of orders. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched her lips. It wasn’t a smile of joy; it was the look of a woman who had finally found someone capable of bringing her husband to heel. Just then, Ollie spit the Montblanc pen out onto the desk. Saliva coated the gold-plated cap. Victoria looked down. That pen was a limited edition. One of only a hundred in the world. Her eye twitched again.

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Thomas was the bridge between Lauren and me. I’d known him for three years before I ever met her. After Lauren and I broke up, Thomas was caught in the middle, entirely unsure of which side to take. Neither of us was willing to let go of him. On holidays, we would both reach out to him separately, and on birthdays, we’d use him as a proxy to pass along wishes. Neither of us wanted to be the first to say it out loud: “We are two parallel lines now, and we’ll never cross again.” Lauren finally broke the stalemate on a completely ordinary Tuesday night. Her text was brief: “Thomas can’t keep being there for both of us. Let him go.” I didn’t reply. I thought she was like me—just clinging to the long, beautiful history the three of us had built together. Then, last night, she called. Her voice sounded more exhausted than I had ever heard it. “I know how much Thomas means to you, Natalie. But there are things I can’t explain right now. I just… I need him here with me.” I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, there was a rustling sound on her end. Then came Thomas’s voice, calling her name. It was soft, incredibly gentle, the kind of tone that only comes from deep, quiet familiarity. Lauren immediately whispered back, “Just give me a second. I’m almost done.” I stood there on the balcony for a long time, the phone pressed to my ear, frozen. I had spent so long believing Thomas was “our” best friend. But he wasn’t anymore. He was hers. “Fine,” I murmured to the empty room. “I’m out, Lauren.” … Lauren and I were together for five years. We’d been broken up for a year and a half. The reason we ended was painfully cliché—she said she was exhausted, and I said I was too. There was no dramatic cheating, no screaming matches. We had just let our relationship turn into a stagnant pool of water, and neither of us had the energy to throw another stone to make a ripple. But even after the breakup, there was still a bridge between us. Thomas. He’d been my best friend since high school, three years before Lauren ever entered the picture. During college, I introduced them, and from that moment on, we were tethered. Every holiday, every late-night phone call, every major milestone—it was always a package deal for three. When Lauren and I split, we had a silent agreement not to make Thomas choose. I’d grab lunch with him on Fridays and casually ask, “Is Lauren still staying up late? Her stomach has been giving her trouble.” Thomas would pat my hand and smile. “Don’t worry, I lectured her last week and made sure she ate on time.” Hearing that always brought a quiet wave of relief. And on Lauren’s end, Thomas would occasionally bring back messages for me. “She asked if you finished that big project. Said not to push yourself too hard.” You see, we were still watching each other, using Thomas as our window. Last Wednesday was my birthday. Lauren didn’t text me, but at lunchtime, Thomas showed up at my office with a bouquet of white roses. “Guess who told me to bring these?” he asked, a knowing grin playing on his lips. My heart skipped a beat as I took them. “She remembered I only like white ones.” “Of course she did,” Thomas said, helping me put them in a vase. “Five years is a long time. She told me to tell you happy birthday, and to stop sleeping so late.” That night, I took a photo of the roses and saved it to my camera roll, keeping it to myself instead of posting it on social media. I thought we had an unspoken understanding—that we both still cared, we were just too proud to take the first step back. Until yesterday. Lauren’s text came out of nowhere: “Thomas can’t keep being there for both of us. Let him go.” I stared at the screen for a long time, unable to reply. I thought she was just testing me. At eleven that night, she called. Her voice sounded heavy, stripped of its usual sharpness. “I know how much Thomas means to you, but there are things I can’t explain. I just need him with me right now.” I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat— On the other end, there was a soft rustle of sheets, and then Thomas’s sleepy voice. “Lauren… you still awake?” It was so soft, thick with sleep. Lauren’s voice instantly softened into a tenderness I had never heard from her before. “Go back to sleep, honey. I’ll be right there.” I stood out on the balcony for a long time, letting the cold wind numb my face. So that was what she meant by “needing him with her.” I didn’t break down right away. I even went to work the next day, sat through meetings, and submitted my reports as if nothing had happened. At noon, a text from Thomas popped up: “Friday at our usual spot? A new ramen place just opened downtown, everyone’s raving about it.” I stared at the screen, my fingers hovering. He didn’t know I’d heard him. He probably had no idea Lauren had even called me. I typed back: “Sounds good.” On Friday, I arrived ten minutes early. Thomas rushed in right on time, unraveling his scarf before he even sat down. “Oh my god, you have no idea what my manager did yesterday—” He launched into a rambling rant about work, and I just listened, offering a quiet laugh here and there. When the steaming bowls of ramen arrived, he ladled a piece of tender chashu pork into my bowl. “Your favorite part.” “Thanks,” I said. “Oh, by the way,” he whispered, leaning in. “Lauren mentioned last week that she was craving that homemade lasagna you used to make. I told her she should learn how to make it, but she refused, saying she could never get the sauce right.” My fork paused. A few weeks ago, a comment like that would have warmed my chest, making me think she was still missing me. But now, it tasted different. Why was she talking about my cooking to Thomas? Was she reminiscing about an ex, or was she flirting with the man next to her? “What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, noticing my silence. “Nothing. Just tired lately.” “You work too hard,” he said, reaching over to playfully tap my forehead. “How many times have I told you to stop pulling overtime? Lauren said so too—” He froze mid-sentence. I looked at him. He avoided my eyes, picking up his glass of water and taking a slow sip. “Never mind. We’re just both worried about you.” His ears were slightly flushed. In that split second, a quiet truth crystallized in my mind. It wasn’t that Thomas didn’t care about me. It was just that alongside his care for me, a different kind of feeling had taken root. And that feeling required him to start keeping secrets from me. After lunch, as we stood at the crosswalk waiting for the light to change, he suddenly looped his arm through mine. “Natalie, no matter what, you know you’re always going to be my best friend, right?” Looking into his earnest eyes, I wanted so badly to ask: “If I’m your best friend, why didn’t you tell me?” But I didn’t. I just smiled. “I know.” The light turned green. He let go of my arm and jogged across the street, turning back to wave. “See you next week!” I stood on my side of the road, watching his back fade into the crowd. Ten years. My best friend and the person I loved most had chosen each other. And they didn’t even know how to tell me. On Sunday afternoon, I went to the grocery store alone. I was pushing my cart around the corner of the snack aisle when I ran straight into Lauren. She was wearing a black hoodie, holding a bag of Sumo oranges. She froze when she saw me. “…Natalie?” “Hey. What a coincidence,” I said, forcing a small smile. She tried to smile back, but her eyes flickered away. “Are you alone?” “Yeah, just stocking up for the week. You?” “Same, just grabbing a few things.” We walked side by side for a moment, the silence between us heavy and awkward. She finally broke it. “Thomas mentioned you’ve been working a lot of overtime. Take care of yourself.” “Yeah, the project is wrapping up.” Another few seconds of silence. Then she said, “About that text I sent the other night… don’t take it to heart. I was just talking nonsense.” I looked at her. The text that read: “Thomas can’t keep being there for both of us. Let him go.” Nonsense? “It’s fine, I didn’t think twice about it,” I lied, keeping my voice light. “Thomas is our mutual friend. Nobody needs to let go of anyone.” Her shoulders visibly relaxed, as if a massive weight had been lifted from her chest. “Good,” she said. “You two have such a tight bond. I shouldn’t have said that.” I nodded, my gaze falling on the bag of Sumo oranges in her hand. Those were Thomas’s favorite. I used to love them too, but only because Thomas had introduced them to me. She was buying them for him. “I should get going,” I said, nudging my cart forward. “See you around.” “Yeah.” She stood there, then suddenly called out, “Natalie.” I turned back. Her mouth opened, but she hesitated before finally saying, “Take care of yourself.” “You too.” I turned and walked away, keeping my spine perfectly straight. As I rounded the corner, I caught her reflection in the glass of a freezer door. She was pulling out her phone, looking down to type. I didn’t need to guess who she was texting. It was either “Just ran into Natalie at the store” or “She seems okay.” Either way, the recipient was Thomas. And I was no longer part of that closed loop. At eight that night, right on cue, a text from Thomas arrived: “Hear you ran into Lauren today? She said you’ve lost a lot of weight. Have you been eating properly?” I stared at the message, finding the whole thing absurd. They were reporting back to each other about me. Like two worried parents discussing a troubled child. Except they were a couple now. I replied with a quick “Yeah, I’m eating fine” and set the phone face down. Later that night, I lay in bed scrolling through my phone and accidentally found our old three-person group chat. The last message was from six months ago. Thomas had texted: “Escape room this weekend, who’s in?” Lauren had replied: “In.” I had replied: “Count me in.” That was the last time the three of us had gone out together. I remembered screaming in the dark of the escape room, Lauren stepping in front to shield me, and Thomas wrapping his arms around me from behind. Afterward, we had crowded into a booth at a greasy late-night diner, Thomas stealing fries from my plate while Lauren silently slid half of her burger over to me. On the walk home, Thomas had walked in the middle, his arm looped through mine on one side, his hand resting on Lauren’s shoulder on the other. “We’re going to be this close forever,” he had said. “Forever.” I exited the group chat and locked my screen. In the quiet dark of my room, I made a decision. My company was looking for someone to relocate to our Seattle office. It was a minimum six-month assignment, and nobody wanted to take it. I went straight to my manager the next morning. “Natalie, are you sure? You were just promoted to team lead here.” “I’m sure. I just need a change of scenery.” He studied my face for a moment, didn’t press, and signed the papers. I spent the next week handing over my responsibilities, ending my lease, and packing up my life into boxes. Before I left, I did one last thing—I invited Thomas and Lauren out for dinner. It was the first time the three of us had sat at the same table since the breakup. The atmosphere was delicate, fragile. Thomas sat in the middle, with me on his left and Lauren on his right. He took on the burden of keeping the conversation alive, cracking jokes and laughing the loudest. Lauren would chime in occasionally, her eyes naturally drifting to him. And in the middle of Thomas putting food on my plate, his elbow brushed against Lauren’s arm. It was light, unthinking, completely natural—the kind of touch born from daily habit. They probably didn’t even realize they were doing it. But I saw it. “You’ve really lost too much weight, Natalie,” Thomas said, placing a piece of chicken in my bowl. “Eat up. Stop trying to look like a runway model.” “Exactly,” Lauren agreed, a rare moment of alignment. “You always hated that bony look. What did you used to say? Starving yourself isn’t a lifestyle.” I offered a faint smile. “You have a good memory.” The comment seemed to catch her off guard, and she quietly sipped her wine. Near the end of the meal, I raised my glass. “To both of us.” They both froze. “Thank you for looking out for me this past year,” I said softly. “Seriously.” Thomas’s eyes welled up with tears. “What are you talking about? We’re family.” Lauren didn’t speak, but she clinked her glass against mine. When dinner ended, we stood outside the restaurant for a moment. The winter wind was biting. Thomas shivered, pulling his collar up, and without a word, Lauren took off her scarf and wrapped it around his neck. The gesture was seamless, as if she had done it a thousand times. Thomas caught himself, casting a fleeting, guilty look at me—full of panic and apology. But he didn’t take the scarf off. I looked at them, and a strange, profound stillness washed over me. “I’m going to head out. You guys should get home.” “I can drive you,” Lauren offered. “No need. I’ll call an Uber.” Thomas stepped forward and hugged me, squeezing tightly. “We’re still on for next week, okay?” I patted his back. “Yeah.” My ride pulled up. I opened the door, got in, and waved. As the car pulled away, I looked in the rearview mirror. Lauren had turned toward Thomas, whispering something, and he smiled down at her. Then, they turned and walked away together, side by side. Walking in the same direction. Heading to the same home. I pulled my eyes away, leaned my head against the cold window, and closed my eyes. Three days later, I pulled my suitcase through the airport. No grand farewells, no final texts, no warning. I simply, quietly, vanished from the city. I didn’t turn my phone back on until the evening after I landed in Seattle. The moment the signal caught, messages flooded in, making the phone buzz frantically against the nightstand. I leaned against the headboard of my hotel bed, scrolling through them one by one. The earliest was from Friday afternoon at five-thirty. Thomas: “What are we doing for dinner? I found this amazing Thai place downtown!” Five-forty-five: “? Where are you? Off work yet?” Six-ten: “Natalie???” At six-thirty, three missed calls. At seven, a voice memo from Thomas: “What’s going on? Did work melt your brain? Call me back.” At eight, two more missed calls. At eight-twenty-three, a text: “I went to your apartment. You’re not here? Why is there a ‘For Rent’ sign on your door???” Eight-twenty-four: “Natalie, did you move?? When did you move?? Why didn’t you tell me???” At eight-thirty, a forty-seven-second voice memo. I didn’t play it. But I knew exactly what it would sound like—his voice cracking, panicked, on the verge of tears. At nine, Lauren’s first message appeared. It was blunt: “Natalie, Thomas can’t reach you. Where are you? Just reply.” At nine-thirty, another flurry from Thomas: “I asked your neighbor. He said you moved out last week??? Where did you go? Why aren’t you answering?” At ten, Lauren again: “I called your office. The receptionist said you took a transfer to Seattle. Where? When did this happen?” At ten-fifteen, the messages from Thomas suddenly stopped. There was a stretch of silence for forty minutes. Then, at ten-fifty-six, his final text arrived: “Natalie… you know, don’t you?” No question mark. It was a statement. I stared at those words for a very long time. Lauren’s third text came at eleven-forty-seven: “Was it the phone call the other night?” No question mark there either. The last message came from Thomas at eleven-forty-seven: “Where are you? Please just tell me. I’ll come to you, I’ll explain. Whatever you heard, let me explain it in person… Please, Natalie. Don’t just disappear like this…” The messages stopped there. Nothing new after that. I suppose they finally realized I wasn’t going to reply. I locked my phone and set it on the nightstand. The hotel curtains weren’t fully closed, letting the soft, amber glow of the Seattle streetlights seep through the gap, drawing a long, thin shadow across the carpet. I didn’t cry. I just sat there in the quiet, watching that sliver of light for a long, long time.

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At the party, my fiancé lost the drinking game. I asked him, for the tenth time, where my dog had actually gone. He didn’t answer. Instead, his “girl best friend,” Bridget, leaned across the table to bail him out. “I ate him, Norma,” she said, her voice dripping with a lazy, drunken giggle. “Honestly, you raised him so well. The meat wasn’t tough at all.” She flashed a bright, mocking smile. “Look, it’s just a dog, right? Tomorrow is your wedding. Why don’t we have Justin dress up as a puppy to make it up to you? Consider the debt settled.” The room erupted into a chorus of raucous laughter. Bridget laughed so hard she practically collapsed into Justin’s chest, her hand trailing down his collarbone. “You guys have no idea. When Justin plays the good boy, he’s absolutely adorable.” Among the drunken roars, someone threw out a crude joke. 1 “How does he play dog for you, Bridget? Does he wear a collar? Or does he get down on all fours and lick your hand?” Bridget’s eyes lit up. She grabbed the speaker’s tie, pulling him close. “You dirty dog, you just want all the details tonight, don’t you?” The guy, clearly wasted, challenged her. “Come on, rock-paper-scissors! If you lose, you have to tell us exactly how sweet Justin is when he’s begging.” Bridget’s cheeks flushed pink. She grinned and threw her hand out. More cheers. More drunken shouting. Suddenly, Bridget shrieked, “Damn it! I actually lost to you!” The group leaned in, reeking of cheap beer and expensive champagne, swaying on their feet. “Spill! Spill! How does he do it? How sweet is Justin when he’s on his knees?” The men roared. Bridget opened her mouth to speak, but a large hand clamped over her lips, pulling her back against a broad chest. “Cut it out,” Justin said, his voice low but firm. “You’ve had too much to drink. Stop making those kinds of jokes.” The room went quiet, though eyes continued to dart back and forth. Some of the guys exchanged whispered chuckles, sharing a silent, knowing look that excluded me entirely. I stood up and grabbed Bridget’s arm, pulling her wobbly, drunken frame upright. She looked at me, a sloppy grin spreading across her face. “Norma… what’s the matter? Want to know the details too?” The next second, a deafening crash shattered the tension. Someone in the back yelled, “Holy shit!” Bridget hit the floor hard. A pool of blood and spilled champagne began to snake across the tile, glittering under the dim bar lights. Justin’s eyes went wide, the alcohol instantly draining from his system. He threw himself onto the floor, pressing his hands against her bleeding temple. “Call 911! Get an ambulance!” he screamed, his voice cracking. Then he glared up at me, his face twisted in fury. “Are you fucking insane, Norma? A blow to the head could kill her!” I didn’t blink. I picked up the last unbroken champagne bottle from the table, pointing the jagged neck directly at his face. “Tell me,” I whispered, my voice trembling but cold. “How did my dog end up in her mouth?” 2 For a long time, Justin was the only other person who had a key to my apartment. When I went on a two-week business trip six months ago, I gave him my spare so he could check on Winston, my Bichon Frise. But when I came back, the apartment was silent. The only thing left of my dog was his favorite squeaky yellow duck, sitting lonely on the living room rug. Justin had stammered through an explanation. He claimed Winston had slipped past his legs when he opened the front door, running off into the night. He said he had searched the neighborhood for hours but couldn’t find him. During those weeks, I nearly lost my mind. I printed hundreds of flyers, plastered them on every lamppost, and spent my nights wandering the dark streets, calling Winston’s name until my throat was raw. My grief had blinded me. I never noticed the gaps in his story. Until tonight. Earlier in the evening, Bridget had casually mentioned how much she loved exotic game. Then, wrinkling her nose, she added, “It’s a shame most dog meat is so tough. You really need one that’s been pampered and fed high-quality kibble to get that tender, savory flavor.” At that moment, a jagged line of suspicion began to connect in my mind. As the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, their filters crumbled. When I finally asked the question I had buried deep in my chest, I felt the sudden, rigid tension in Justin’s posture. Now, the room was in chaos. They scrambled to lift Bridget, rushing her out the door. Someone shoved me hard in the rush, sending me stumbling back against the wall. Even as the wailing of the ambulance faded into the distance, Justin never answered me. But the silence was its own confession. Winston. My sweet, gentle Winston. Had Justin deliberately handed him over to Bridget to be slaughtered? 3 The party dissolved, but I didn’t go back to my empty apartment. Instead, I drove to the new townhouse we had just bought—the place we were supposed to move into after our wedding tomorrow. His parents were there, setting up decorations. They looked up in surprise when the door slammed open. “Norma? What are you doing here at this hour?” his mother asked, holding a roll of silk ribbon. I didn’t answer. I walked straight into the kitchen, bypassed her, and picked up a heavy, twelve-inch chef’s knife from the block. His parents gasped, backing away. “Stop, stop! Norma, what is wrong with you? Where is Justin? Shouldn’t he be with you?” But the grief and white-hot rage burning in my chest stripped away any capacity for politeness. I swung the knife, forcing them to retreat into the hallway. The first slash went directly through our giant, glossy engagement portrait hanging in the living room. The canvas ripped with a satisfying, screeching tear. The second strike chopped into the custom-engraved wooden sign bearing our initials and tomorrow’s wedding date. Third strike. Fourth strike. I poured every ounce of my physical strength into destroying the brand-new velvet sofa, the mounted television, the pristine coffee table. I smashed, kicked, and hacked until the living room was a battlefield of stuffing, shattered glass, and splintered wood. His parents were shaking, huddled by the front door. “Norma, what did Justin do to you? Tell us!” His father frantically dialed Justin’s number, but the calls kept going straight to voicemail. His mother wrung her hands, staring at the ruin. “The house… our beautiful house is destroyed! How are you two supposed to get married tomorrow?” “We aren’t,” I said. My voice was a hollow, raspy whisper. I let the knife clatter to the hardwood floor and walked past them, stepping out into the cold night. Just as I crossed the threshold, his father’s phone finally connected. “Dad, why the hell do you keep calling me?!” Justin’s voice blasted through the receiver, frantic and angry. “Bridget is hurt! Norma cracked her head open with a bottle! Nothing is more important than Bridget right now!” “Justin, Norma is here! She’s lost her mind! She destroyed the townhouse!” his father yelled. There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line. “Good,” Justin said, his voice dropping into a hard, venomous register. “Tell her to get to the hospital. She owes Bridget a formal apology, and she’s going to give it to her tonight.” 4 I sat on the curb under a flickering streetlamp, lighting a cigarette. It was the first time in my life I had ever smoked. I had Winston for seven years. I got him when he was just a tiny, white puffball that could fit in the palm of my hand. He was incredibly intuitive. Every time I had a bad day, he would sit quietly by my side, tilting his little head, watching me with those big, dark eyes. The moment I would look up at him, he would jump into my lap, frantically licking away my tears. He was my shadow, always waiting by the door, resting his chin on my palm the second I walked through. And six months ago, he was suddenly gone. I had blamed myself. I thought I shouldn’t have gone on that trip. I thought it was a terrible stroke of bad luck. But it wasn’t an accident. It was a cold-blooded sacrifice. All because Bridget wanted to satisfy a sick, twisted craving. By the time I finished my eleventh cigarette, my fingers were numb. I stood up, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and felt my phone vibrate. Justin’s voice was sharp with irritation. “Where are you? Bridget is awake. Do you have any idea how close you came to killing her? It was a joke, Norma. You’re an adult—since when can’t you take a joke? Get over here right now, apologize, and maybe we can salvage this.” I remained silent, listening to the ambient noise of the hospital wing over the line. “Norma?” Justin’s voice grew suspicious. “Are you listening to me?” He let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “You’re really not speaking? Are you seriously throwing a tantrum? Over a dog?” I finally smiled. The sound that came out of my throat was dry and hollow. “Which hospital? I’m coming.” 5 But Justin was cautious now. He hesitated for a long time before asking, “Where are you? Let me come pick you up instead.” He arrived in a taxi twenty minutes later, still reeking of stale champagne and sweat. I stood under the streetlamp, my face a completely blank slate. He climbed out of the cab and studied my expression warily. “Norma… are you really this angry?” I looked up, locking my eyes onto his. “Winston was in my apartment. How did he end up in her kitchen? Did you take him, Justin?” His face went pale. He shifted his weight, refusing to meet my gaze. “It happened six months ago. Why are you still obsessed with this?” He waved his hand dismissively. “If you love dogs that much, I’ll buy you a new one. A white one, a black one, whatever pedigree you want.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a soft, placating tone. “He was just an animal, babe. Is he really worth throwing away our future over? You made a massive scene tonight. Bridget wanted to call the police the second she woke up. I had to agree to some ridiculous terms just to get her to wait for your apology. Come back with me, Norma. Don’t make this uglier than it already is.” I tilted my head. “Ridiculous terms? Like what? Promising to do her laundry for a month? Or giving her strip dances whenever she gets bored?” Justin’s face darkened, his jaw tightening. “Stop… don’t be disgusting. I’m trying to save our wedding. If she files an assault report, how do we get married tomorrow? You created this mess.” He let out a long, heavy sigh. “Whatever. I don’t entirely blame you. The guys drank too much and took the jokes too far. But… Bridget did say that after we’re married, she doesn’t want you coming to our group hangouts anymore.” 6 His phone buzzed. Justin pulled it out, and as he read the screen, the color drained completely from his face. “Norma… did you destroy the townhouse?” I stared at him, my voice flat. “You should be glad I didn’t see you when I had that knife in my hand.” His face went from pale to a mottled, angry red. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Over a fucking dog, you’re ruining our lives?!” “Tell me,” I demanded, stepping closer. “How did Winston end up on her plate?” Justin closed his mouth. For a long time, he couldn’t find his voice. Finally, he muttered, “I thought your first question would be whether I was sleeping with her. I guess I really matter less to you than a dog.” He kicked a plastic orange traffic cone on the curb, looking at me with deep, bitter disappointment. “Since you’ve decided to make a disaster of this, I guess the wedding is postponed.” 7 I went back to my old apartment. Sitting alone on the edge of my bed, I sent a mass text to every single wedding guest, letting them know the ceremony was canceled. When I put the phone down, the silence of the dark room pressed in on me. The guilt and grief were suffocating, wrapping around my throat like a vice. Suddenly, my phone buzzed, the bright screen cutting through the darkness. An instinctual wave of dread washed over me. It was a friend request from an unlisted number. I accepted it, and a message immediately popped up. [Wow, Norma. You really are pathetic.] [Justin has been playing ‘good boy’ for me since before you two even started dating. Technically, I’m your predecessor.] [You’re petty, sensitive, and completely dramatic. You never fit in with our group anyway.] I read the texts, but I didn’t reply. My gut told me there was more. I tapped on her profile, scrolling back through her archives. Sure enough, I found a post from exactly six months ago. The background was unmistakably my kitchen. On my counter sat a simmering Dutch oven. The caption read: [The little Bichon Justin prepared for me. Way sweeter and more tender than some stray mutt~]

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The day before the Paragon Guild audition, I found out the selection was already over. My mind went blank as I picked up the acceptance list my mentor had thrown at my feet. Under the slot for the Principal Romantic Lead, the name “Lucas Ward” stared back at me in bold letters. My phone buzzed, group chat notifications lighting up the screen: [Congrats, Lucas! Getting into the Paragon Theater is huge! You’re buying drinks tonight!] [They only took one lead this year, and you snagged it. Incredible!] [Hey, where’s our resident award-winner? Why is he so quiet all of a sudden?] [Probably too embarrassed to speak after pulling out of the auditions at the last minute.] My forehead creased, and my thumbs hovered over the keyboard to fire back a reply, but a private message from my girlfriend popped up. [I’m the one who submitted your withdrawal form. Don’t make things difficult for them in the group chat.] [Lucas really needed this chance, Alex.] [You’re so talented. You can always audition again next time.] As I stared at her words, the blood in my veins turned to ice. A single, silent tear slipped down my cheek. There wouldn’t be a next time. Before the auditions, my father and I had made a deal: if I didn’t make it, I had to pack my bags and come home to take over the family business. It wasn’t just my theater career that was over. She and I were over, too. 1 “You skipped the first two years of auditions, and this year you just… withdraw?” My mentor, Laurence, stood before me, the wooden stage-baton trembling in his grip. “Your junior, who started training years after you, got in on his very first try last year.” “If you didn’t want this, you should have told me sooner!” He slammed the baton onto the hardwood floor. The sharp crack echoed through the empty rehearsal hall. “Don’t call me your mentor anymore. I don’t have a student this spineless.” Laurence gave me one last look of utter disappointment, threw his coat over his shoulder, and stormed out. The spots on my back where he’d snapped the baton earlier throbbed with a burning heat, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. Limping, I bent down to pick up the discarded baton. Before I could reach it, a pale, soft hand swept it off the floor. Then, she reached out to steady me. I looked up. It was Debby. “Did Laurence hit you?” Her eyes softened with concern, her lips parting as if she wanted to say more, but no sound came out. After a long, heavy silence, she murmured, “I’m sorry, Alex.” My fists clenched tight, then slowly released. The ocean of resentment building up inside me finally distilled into a single, quiet question: “Do you regret it?” Debby paused, looking away. “No.” “Lucas comes from nothing. This was his only chance to change his life.” “He can’t rely on me forever.” “But you… you’re different.” A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my throat as I pulled my hand from her grip. My eyes burned with unshed tears. Two years ago, she told me Lucas wanted to audition for the Paragon Theater. She asked me to give him a head start and skip registering. I was soft-hearted. I faked an illness to Laurence, sitting out the season. Lucas failed the audition anyway. Last year, she took me white-water rafting right before the audition week. We hit a nasty rapid; I was thrown from the raft, fracturing my leg. I spent a month in a hospital bed, watching the audition window close. Lucas failed again. This year, I refused all her invitations, practically living in the studio, perfecting every monologue, every movement. The competition was so fierce that other actors withdrew rather than go up against me. But Debby quietly accessed my phone, deleted my call-time notifications, and submitted a formal withdrawal on my behalf. She even used a burner number to text me a fake audition schedule. There was only one slot for the leading man. And only one candidate left. She had orchestrated this entire tragedy for Lucas, completely disregarding my life, my hard work, and my future. Debby stepped closer, wrapping her arms around me. “Don’t be bitter, babe. You’re so talented. You’ll have plenty of other opportunities.” “Even without the Paragon, you’ll still be the best actor of our generation.” She leaned up, kissing my cheek. “Let’s go home. I’ll make your favorite dinner tonight.” I closed my eyes in absolute despair. She had no idea that the Paragon Theater wasn’t like other ensembles. They had a strict age limit of twenty-five for new recruits. Since graduating college, an actor got exactly three chances. I turned twenty-five this year. There were no more chances. “Just be reasonable,” she whispered. “Stop trying to compete with Lucas.” The dam of suppressed agony broke. I shoved her away. Ignoring her startled gasp, I pulled up my sweatpants. My shins and calves were covered in deep purples, faded yellows, and old scars. “I started training when I was three years old. I haven’t taken a single day off in twenty-two years.” “I gave up spicy food, cold drinks, alcohol—everything—just to protect my voice.” “Everything I did was for the Paragon.” My voice cracked, the veins in my neck bulging. “You destroyed my career to build his!” “Every single sacrifice I made… wasted!” Debby’s expression hardened. She watched my outburst with a chilling, detached calm, looking at me as if I were a stranger throwing a tantrum. After a moment, she spoke. “Are you done?” “Does it absolutely have to be the Paragon? Are other theaters beneath you?” I stared at her, utterly shell-shocked. “What did you just say?” She knew the Paragon was the holy grail for classical actors—the Juilliard of professional ensembles. Thousands of actors across the country fought for barely a dozen spots. In my specific category, it was a one-in-ten-thousand shot. She had sabotaged me so Lucas could steal it. And now she was telling me to just go somewhere else. “Don’t you just want a big stage?” she asked, her tone dry. “I can fund a theater for you. The biggest one in the city. I’ll hire a professional production crew and a cast to back you up. You can perform whatever you want, for as long as you want.” A profound sense of exhaustion washed over me. “Not everything can be bought with your money, Debby,” I whispered. “I love the art of theater. I don’t want a vanity project—” A sharp ringtone cut me off. I didn’t need to look at the screen to know who it was. “Lucas.” As she answered, her voice softened instantly. “Yeah. I’m on my way.” Before leaving, Debby cast a heavy, lingering look at me. “The results are locked in, Alex. Throwing a fit won’t change them.” “Take this year to prepare, and just audition again next year.” The door clicked shut. I was left alone in the vast, quiet studio. The crushing weight of reality finally broke me, and I collapsed onto the floor, sobbing into my hands. My phone vibrated. A message from my father appeared: [Alex, I’m sending a car to pick you up the day after tomorrow.] With trembling fingers, I typed out a single word: “Okay.” Right as I hit send, a text from Lucas flashed across the screen: [Hey Alex, I tagged you in the group chat but you didn’t reply.] [You have to come to my celebration dinner tonight! I couldn’t have gotten into the Paragon without your help!] 2 Lucas’s celebratory dinner was held at the most exclusive penthouse restaurant downtown. I didn’t need to guess who was paying. It was Debby’s doing. Lucas was a kid Debby had practically rescued from the streets years ago. Back then, his parents had passed away, and his relatives had kicked him out. Homeless and desperate, he was sleeping under a bridge. Debby’s own younger brother had died of an illness when he was ten. For years, she had been trapped in that grief. Until she met Lucas, who shared her brother’s expressive eyes and gentle demeanor. She transferred all the love and indulgence she had harbored for her late brother onto Lucas. He had no place to live, so she bought him a condo in the city. He wanted to study acting and go to the same university as me, so Debby didn’t even blink before donating ten million dollars to the school’s theater department to secure his admission. “Mr. Ross, right this way, please.” The hostess’s polite voice pulled me from my thoughts. I followed her to the private dining room. Even through the heavy mahogany door, the loud, grating laughter inside was unmistakable. “Honestly, I thought Alex Ross was some kind of prodigy. Turns out he didn’t even have the guts to show up for the audition.” “Running away at the last second… If I were him, I’d be too embarrassed to show my face in the industry again. Total joke.” “Right? I remember people switching specialties just to avoid competing with him. What a waste.” The laughter grew louder. My fingers tightened on the door handle. “Do you think his awards were bought? His mentor is pretty influential, after all.” When I pushed the door open, the room fell dead silent. Lucas’s friends froze, their smiles hardening into awkward grimaces. I looked at Debby, who was sitting next to Lucas. She didn’t look back; she simply raised her wine glass and drank it in one slow, deliberate motion. As if I were a stranger. “Alex! Come sit!” Lucas pulled out a chair next to him, acting as if we were best friends. From the moment I walked in to the moment I sat down, Debby didn’t spare me a single glance. “Alex, since I’m starting at the Paragon next week, could you help me run through the classical repertoire over the next couple of days? I really want to make a good impression on the directors.” Lucas slung his arm over my shoulder. Getting accepted into the Paragon Theater didn’t guarantee a permanent contract. To prevent nepotism and bribery, the company held a final board review. They would invite the new recruits under the guise of an “informal meet-and-greet,” only to ask them to perform their audition pieces on the spot. If their technique didn’t hold up under scrutiny, the acceptance was revoked. Clearly, neither Lucas nor Debby knew about this. I gently pushed his arm off my shoulder. “I don’t have time.” I was leaving the day after tomorrow. In college, I was the one who spent nights drilling him so he wouldn’t fail his classes. But this was different. The Paragon’s board review was notoriously ruthless. For those who earned their spot, it was a mere formality. But for someone like Lucas, who got in through backroom deals, it would be his undoing. He had no real passion for classical theater, no natural instinct, and zero work ethic. Even if I poured my soul into training him, I couldn’t turn him into a lead classical actor in forty-eight hours. A heavy wine glass was slammed onto the table. The sudden noise startled everyone. The room fell into a tense, suffocating silence. “Alex, when did you become so cold-hearted?” Debby’s voice cut through the quiet. “Lucas is begging for your help, and you won’t even give him the time of day.” “It’s not like you have an ensemble to prepare for anyway. You have nothing but time.” My nails dug deep into my palms. “I said, I don’t have time.” Debby let out a cold, mocking laugh. “You always have time to tutor your junior students.” “You’re just jealous because Lucas is going to the Paragon and you aren’t.” Looking at her, I felt a strange sense of detachment. The lips that had once whispered sweet promises were now spitting words meant to pierce my heart. The woman who used to have infinite patience for me was now looking at me with pure disdain. It felt like I was seeing her clearly for the first time. Or maybe, I never knew her at all. A dull, throbbing ache bloomed in my chest. Lucas tugged on Debby’s sleeve. “Debby, please don’t argue with Alex because of me.” Debby’s brow furrowed, her eyes scanning me with cold annoyance. “Are you going to help him or not?” I straightened my posture, meeting her gaze head-on. “No.” “I won’t.” Lucas’s eyes welled with tears as he stood up. “Are you looking down on me, Alex? Just because I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon, you think I’m beneath you, don’t you?” Debby’s glare turned hostile. Lucas wiped a tear from his face and ran out of the room. “Lucas!” Debby called out, immediately chasing after him. “I don’t know why he thinks he’s so special.” “Seriously, acting like he’s too good for us.” “Pathetic pride.” Once again, everyone left, leaving me alone in the freezing room. Maybe the air conditioning was set too low, but I couldn’t stop shivering. I dragged myself back to our apartment and began packing. Just as I snapped my suitcase shut, Debby walked in. She was carrying a takeout bag of my favorite food. “You didn’t eat anything tonight—” 3 Her eyes locked onto the suitcase on the floor. The takeout bag was thrown into the trash can. Debby marched over, unzipped the suitcase, and began throwing my clothes onto the bed in a frantic, angry heap. “Alex, what is wrong with you?” “Throwing a tantrum and moving out over something this petty?” I stood there, watching her quietly. She took a sharp breath, trying to rein in her temper. “I’ve clearly spoiled you too much.” I didn’t answer. I just bent down to gather the clothes she had scattered. She grabbed my arm, stopping me. “Do you really have to do this to spite me?” “What’s the big deal about letting him have this one spot? You can easily get in next time.” I gently but firmly pried her fingers off my arm. “Didn’t you used to hate cheaters, Debby?” Debby froze. Back when we first started out, she used to follow me to every performance. She would guard my dressing room, watch over my costumes, and handle my props with meticulous care. She knew how ugly the industry could be. She was always terrified someone would ruin my wardrobe or pull strings to steal a role that belonged to me. She used to protect my career because she loved me. But now… Debby looked away. “Lucas’s situation is different.” “And besides, your talent is undeniable. You’ll get in eventually.” The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Debby pressed her lips together, her expression shifting to something complicated. “Go to sleep.” The moment she turned her back, a hot, silent tear fell onto the palm of my hand. The next morning, I bought some premium tea and pastries and went to Laurence’s office to apologize. Usually, he arrived early, but today his desk was empty. After waiting for half an hour, I realized he wasn’t coming. He hadn’t forgiven me. He didn’t want to see my face. A wave of profound grief washed over me. I left the tea and pastries on his desk and walked over to the rehearsal wing. I unlocked my personal locker. And my heart stopped. The locker was completely empty. My performance costumes were gone. If it were any ordinary wardrobe, I could have them remade. But one of those costumes was a historic piece gifted to me by Laurence. It was a genuine vintage piece, hand-embroidered with real gold thread, passed down through generations of classical actors. It was irreplaceable. My face went pale as I tore the rehearsal space apart, checking every single closet, but there was no sign of it. Then, a memory flashed in my mind—something Lucas had said to Debby when they thought I wasn’t listening: “Alex’s costumes are so beautiful and expensive. I wish I could wear something like that on the Paragon stage.” Rage surged from the soles of my feet to the top of my head, making my entire body shake. When I arrived at the studio, Lucas had already put on the vintage costume Laurence had given me. Nearby, on the dirty floor, the rest of my carefully maintained wardrobe was piled up like rags. Lucas paled, startled by my sudden entrance. “Alex…” I marched toward him, but before I could reach him, Debby grabbed my wrist, pinning me in place. She shielded Lucas behind her. “Take my costume off. Now.” Debby’s brow furrowed, her voice dripping with annoyance. “You don’t even have a performance coming up. What’s the harm in letting Lucas borrow it?” I struggled against her grip, but her hold was ironclad. Rage boiled over, and I screamed, “He doesn’t deserve to touch it!” “Slap.” The stinging heat on my cheek made my mind go blank. Debby stared at her own palm, a sudden wave of panic and guilt crossing her face. “Debby, please don’t fight. I’m scared,” Lucas whimpered, shrinking behind her. The guilt in Debby’s eyes vanished, replaced instantly by cold hostility. “I’ll write you a check for a million dollars. Consider the costume bought.” Her sheer arrogance made me feel like I was looking at a complete stranger. “It’s not for sale.” I lunged forward, grabbing Lucas’s sleeve. “Take it off!” Debby grabbed Lucas’s shoulder, pulling him back into her chest. “Is this old rag really worth this much drama?” “Five million.” “I said, it’s not for sale!” We were both pulling, and Lucas was caught in the middle. “Debby, he’s hurting me! He’s pulling too hard!” Lucas cried. Debby’s gaze turned murderous as she stared at my hand on his sleeve. “Let him go, Alex.” “Give me back my costume first!” Debby gritted her teeth, using all her strength to yank Lucas toward her. Seeing the antique fabric stretch precariously, panic seized me. “Stop pulling! The fabric is going to tear!” “Let go then!” I couldn’t risk ruining the heirloom. I tried to release my grip. “Riiiiip.” The exquisite outer layer of the costume tore completely in half. 4 Debby stared in shock at the shredded antique costume in her hands, then slowly looked up at me. “Debby, I don’t want it anymore,” Lucas said, his eyes red as he tugged at her coat. “I can wear a cheap costume. Please don’t fight with him because of me.” The anger that had briefly subsided in Debby flared right back up. Her face turned pale with rage, and she ground her teeth. “Fine. I won’t argue with him.” She threw her coat over Lucas’s shoulders. “Go. Change out of it.” When Lucas finished changing, Debby took the ruined, torn costume and threw it directly at my face. “Fine, Alex. Keep your useless rags.” “Come on, Lucas. I’ll take you to get some custom-made pieces.” She took Lucas’s hand and walked out. Before they turned the corner, Lucas glanced back over his shoulder, flashing me a triumphant, mocking smirk. I sat on the floor, staring blankly at the torn fabric in my lap. My phone rang, breaking the silence. It was my fellow student, Felix. “Alex, it’s about Laurence…” My chest tightened. “What happened to him?” “Laurence went to see his old rival—the artistic director of the Paragon Theater. He’s begging him to give you a special audition slot.” I couldn’t speak through the sudden lump in my throat. My mentor, a man too proud to ever bow his head to anyone, was swallowing his pride to beg his lifelong rival for my sake. Tears poured down my face. I don’t remember how I got back to the apartment. I sat on the sofa, clutching the ruined costume to my chest. “We’re done.” I tried to send the text, but it failed. A red exclamation mark popped up. Debby had blocked my number. A hollow laugh escaped me. Seven years of devotion, ended like a childish game of house. When the game was over, everyone just walked away. At dawn, the family chauffeur arrived. “Young Master, the car is ready.”

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On Thanksgiving Day, my fiancé vanished from our engagement dinner, leaving me alone to pick up the pieces. I’d spent the entire day running around, and the moment I finally sat down to catch my breath, I saw Victoria’s post on Instagram. “Eight years in the making. Today, we made it official.” The groom was Zack. The man I had loved for twelve years. My hands shook as I opened the comments, ready to demand an explanation, only to see my brother Larry’s comment at the top: “She’s all yours now, Zack. You’re family. If you ever hurt my little sister, I’ll break your legs.” My breath caught in my throat. Shaking, I called Larry. But his voice on the line was completely casual, almost bored. “Zack and Victoria have been together for eight years, Hannah. Mom and Dad knew about it too.” “We weren’t trying to hurt you. We just know how volatile you can get. We didn’t want you causing a scene and ruining it for Victoria.” “Let me make this clear: Victoria is my sister. I won’t let anyone ruin her happiness. Not even you. Especially not you.” A violent spasm hit my stomach. I leaned against the kitchen counter, dry-heaving, but nothing came out. Eight years ago, Zack held my hand on a train to New York, promising to help me find the biological parents who had lost me. But he had already fallen for Victoria that very same year. My parents knew. My brother knew. And they had all lied to my face. … My parents’ Instagram feeds had been updated, too. A family photo at a Michelin-starred restaurant in Manhattan. They looked radiant, warm, and so utterly complete that they didn’t even need a caption. I stared at the picture, a sharp ache catching in my throat like a bone. Today was supposed to be my engagement dinner. I had begged my parents and Larry to be there, to witness the only milestone that felt like it belonged to me. But they had all excused themselves. “Hannah, sweetie, the firm is just swamped right now. We really can’t make it.” “It’s just an engagement dinner, not the wedding itself. You’re so independent and capable, we know you can handle it.” Now I knew the truth. They weren’t busy with the firm. They were too busy celebrating Victoria and Zack’s marriage license to bother with my sham of an engagement. They knew my long-awaited night would end in humiliation, and not one of them had the decency to warn me. They had left me in the dark. For eight years. The restaurant’s location tag was active on my mom’s post. I ordered an Uber and drove straight there. By the time I arrived, the dinner was winding down. When I walked into the private dining room, the laughter died instantly. Larry was the first to move, stepping protectively in front of Victoria and grabbing my arm to pull me out. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Hannah. Today is Victoria’s night. Don’t ruin this for her.” I gripped the doorframe, refusing to budge. But Larry’s grip was like iron. He shoved me back, hard. I flew backward, my back slamming violently against the hallway wall. For a second, the world went black. I collapsed to the hardwood floor, a searing pain radiating through my spine, leaving me unable to stand. A flicker of panic finally crossed my parents’ and Zack’s faces. “Hannah, are you okay?” I fought through the pain, pushing away their hands. Their touch felt toxic. I looked up and choked out a bitter laugh. “Mom, Dad… are you going to explain this? Why is my fiancé married to Victoria?” My parents exchanged uncomfortable glances, silent. Zack knelt beside me, his hands reaching out to lift me onto his back. “Don’t worry about that right now, Hannah. Let me get you to a hospital. Your health comes first. I’ll explain everything later, I promise…” But then Victoria let out a soft, trembling sob. Zack froze. He immediately let go of me, turning to wrap Victoria in his arms. “Tori, hey, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.” My mother sighed, her worry for me instantly evaporating into irritation. “Hannah, do you always have to make everything about yourself?” “Victoria was our only daughter. Your sudden return already took away half of her life, half of our affection. Now that she’s finally found the love of her life, do you have to try and steal that from her too?” I bit my lip so hard the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Zack and I had been together since high school. Twelve years. How long had Victoria even known him? She was the one who had stolen my life, my parents, and now my partner. How was I the thief in their eyes? The sheer injustice of it burned in my chest. Tears blurred my vision as I screamed at them. “I was with Zack first! Who stole from whom?!” “Mom, Dad, even if Victoria is the daughter of the woman who kidnapped me, how can you let her be a home-wrecker? How can you support this?!” “Shut up!” A sharp crack echoed through the hallway. Larry’s hand connected violently with my cheek. My face burned, but he wasn’t done. He glared down at me, disgusted. “Victoria and Zack have a legal marriage certificate. They are husband and wife. Who the hell are you to call her a home-wrecker? You’re the one acting like an obsessed mistress.” My parents didn’t reprimand Larry for hitting me. Instead, my father chimed in, his voice cold. “Victoria is the daughter we raised for twenty-four years. How dare you call her a fake? On paper, she is our only legal daughter, just as she is Zack’s only legal wife. When are you ever going to grow up, Hannah?” I opened my mouth to fight, but the words died in my throat. I had no strength left. My parents had always claimed that updating the family trust and legal documents was “too complicated” and “unnecessary paperwork.” My name was never legally added to the Whitmore family registry. Legally, only Larry and Victoria were the Whitmore children. Victoria was the real daughter. Victoria was the real wife. What did I have to fight with? I closed my eyes, dragging my bruised, aching body toward the exit. Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets. It was just like the night Zack and I had first arrived in New York eight years ago. Back then, I had just discovered that the woman who raised me wasn’t my biological mother. Loretta had stolen me from a hospital cradle so her own daughter, Victoria, could live a life of luxury. No wonder she made me work the fields, denied me an education, and beat me for the slightest mistake. She had even sabotaged my college applications, forcing me to attend a tuition-free community college in the middle of nowhere despite my high test scores. It was Zack who spent every penny of his savings to buy two train tickets so we could escape. He held me through the long, freezing ride to New York. He stood by me through the DNA tests, the police reports, and the endless cold shoulders from my biological family. When my parents finally took me in, there was no joy in their eyes. Only awkwardness. “Well, at least Victoria has an older sister to look after her now,” my mother had said. They knew Loretta had stolen me. But they still loved the thief’s daughter more than the biological child who had suffered in her place. I remember crying in Zack’s arms back then, asking him if I was just too broken for my family to love. Zack had held me so tight I could barely breathe. “In my eyes, Hannah, you are perfect,” he had whispered, kissing my forehead. “Even if the whole world turns its back on you, I will always choose you. Let’s just endure this for a bit. Once I make enough money, I’ll build us our own home. We’ll leave them behind, and they’ll regret the day they cast you aside.” How could I have known? The man who swore eternal loyalty to me had fallen for someone else in less than a year. He was no different from everyone else in my life. For Victoria, he betrayed me. The rain grew heavier. I was bruised, soaked, and unable to hail a cab. With no other choice, I pulled my purse over my head and tried to run. The sidewalk was slick. My foot slipped, and I fell hard into a muddy puddle. I tried to push myself up, but a sharp, agonizing twist in my ankle pinned me to the wet concrete. As the despair began to drown me, a black umbrella appeared overhead, blocking out the cold downpour. I knew that umbrella. It was the one I had bought for Zack years ago. He knelt in the rain, holding the umbrella over me with one hand while his other gently cupped my injured ankle. He looked into my eyes, his face incredibly earnest. “Hannah… do you still love me?” “What?” Before I could process his words, a sharp crack echoed, and the blinding pain in my ankle subsided. He had reset the joint. He helped me stand up, letting out a soft sigh. “I saw it was pouring. I couldn’t stop worrying about you, so I told them I drank too much and needed some air. Come on, let me take you to the hospital.” I hadn’t cried when Larry hit me. I hadn’t cried when my parents called me selfish. But looking at Zack—at the familiar tenderness he had shown me for over a decade—the dam finally broke. “My parents forced you into this, didn’t they?” I demanded, my voice cracking. “They used their influence to force you to marry Victoria. Just tell me the truth, Zack. Please.” I desperately needed him to nod. I needed to believe that at least one person in this world hadn’t willingly abandoned me. But Zack avoided my gaze. After a long, agonizing silence, he finally spoke, his voice heavy with guilt. “Hannah… I wanted to marry Victoria. It was my choice.” “When I first met her, I hated her too. I thought she took everything from you. But the more time we spent together… she’s so gentle, Hannah. She’s innocent in all of this.” “You’re like a wildflower—resilient, making people want to protect you. But Victoria… she’s a rose. She’s vibrant, dazzling. No one can resist her light.” “I’m just a man. When you meet someone like that, it’s hard not to fall. We fell in love, Hannah. We couldn’t help ourselves…” A wave of intense nausea hit me. I slapped his hand away, knocking the umbrella into the street. I collapsed by the curb, dry-heaving violently into the gutter. Innocent? Victoria was innocent? She knew Zack was my childhood sweetheart. She knew we were planning a life together. Yet she spent eight years sleeping with him behind my back. She took my parents, my childhood, and now the only person who had ever made me feel safe. And they all called her innocent. “Hannah!” Zack, relentless as a shadow, picked up the umbrella and held it over me again. He tilted it so that I was completely dry, while the rain soaked his back. He reached out, his fingers trembling as he touched my wet cheek, his eyes glistening with tears. “Hannah, stop hurting yourself.” “Just because I married Victoria doesn’t mean I’m abandoning you. My promises to you still stand. I will still love you, care for you, and protect you just like before.” “Whatever Victoria has, you can have too. I can buy you a townhouse. We can have a life together, even a child…” I stared at him, utterly disgusted. He was far more monstrous than I could have ever imagined. Marrying Victoria wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to keep me on the side, tucked away like a dirty secret. The biological daughter who lived like a ghost. The childhood sweetheart turned into a hidden mistress. It was almost comical. “Go to hell, Zack.” I slapped him across the face with everything I had left, then turned and ran blindly into the storm. I ran until my lungs burned, completely soaked to the bone. With no home to return to, I spent the night in my office at Whitmore Enterprises. My parents had never wanted me in the family business. It was only after endless begging that they granted me an entry-level internship. They claimed they didn’t want the company to look like it ran on nepotism. So, despite the million-dollar contracts I brought in year after year, I remained a low-level team leader. Meanwhile, Victoria, who barely showed up once a month, had been appointed Vice President before her twenty-fifth birthday. I had grown numb to the unfairness, but the sting never truly went away. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Walter, the senior Vice President on the board. “The board meeting tomorrow is set to vote on the next successor of the Whitmore Group. We had a private discussion, and the board is unanimously voting for you, Hannah. Good luck.” I clutched the phone to my chest, a rare spark of warmth blooming in my cold ribs. Maybe the whole world hadn’t abandoned me. At least someone saw my hard work. I clenched my fists, a quiet resolve settling over me. I could live without love. I could live without family. But I would not let them take the company I had built with my own sweat and blood. The next morning, the boardroom doors swung open. When Larry saw me sit down, he let out a loud, mocking scoff. “Victoria is the obvious choice for successor. Why are some people still trying to play hero?” Zack sat across from me, casting a worried look in my direction. He leaned in and whispered, “Hannah, just walk away. Victoria is the rightful heir. You don’t have the backing or the bloodline connection she has. Why humiliate yourself?” I bit my lip, staying silent. I was the only biological Whitmore in this room. Why shouldn’t I fight? The secretary began handing out the physical ballots for the board to cast their votes. Just then, the heavy oak doors of the boardroom were thrown open, and a disheveled, crazed-looking woman burst inside. My blood ran cold. It was her. Loretta. My foster mother—Victoria’s biological mother. She was supposed to be serving a twelve-year sentence. How was she here? Loretta shoved past the secretary, grabbed the presentation laptop, and slammed a USB drive into the port. The projector screen flickered to life. And suddenly, my darkest nightmares were laid bare for the entire board to see. The video started playing, and the suffocating panic of my teenage years rushed back, choking me. To get money from her abusive husband, Loretta had repeatedly forced me into horrific situations. They had filmed everything to keep me quiet, threatening to ruin my life if I ever spoke up. I had wanted to die back then, unable to comprehend how a mother could do something so monstrous to her own daughter. Only later did I realize I wasn’t her daughter at all. On screen, the terrible footage played. In the room, Loretta pointed at the screen, her lips curling into a wicked, triumphant grin. “Look at her! You all think Hannah is the long-lost Whitmore heir? She’s my daughter! She’s a parasite who lied her way into this family!” “She slept with her own stepfather just for pocket money! Are you really going to hand a multi-million-dollar company over to a cheap, worthless girl like this?” I felt myself slipping into madness. “You’re lying!” I screamed, my voice cracking with desperation. “Victoria is your daughter! You’re the one who switched us at birth!” I looked at my parents, begging them with my eyes to stand up for me, to tell them the truth. But looking at the screen, my parents’ faces twisted in disgust. To them, my trauma was nothing but a stain on their pristine reputation. They immediately turned their backs on me. “Hannah, how can you accuse your sister like that?” my mother said, her voice dripping with artificial pity. “Victoria is our only daughter. We only took you in out of charity.” Larry sneered. “We don’t have room for trash like you in the Whitmore family, Hannah.” The board members began whispering, their gazes turning from admiration to cold disdain. “She’s not even a Whitmore…” “With a mother like that, and a past so vile… we can’t have her representing the brand. Get her out of here.” The uncles and mentors who had promised to vote for me began crossing out my name, writing Victoria’s instead. When the votes were tallied, it was priorly decided. Victoria was named the sole successor of the Whitmore Group. She had won. She had taken every last thing that belonged to me. I sank back into my chair, hollowed out. Victoria stood up, offering me a sweet, elegant smile. “Hannah, our parents were kind enough to harbor you, but you can’t deny your own flesh and blood forever.” “Loretta missed you. She wants to take you home.” “You should go with her. Wearing clothes that don’t belong to you is getting a bit pathetic, don’t you think?” I looked up and met Loretta’s terrifying, hollow eyes. Victoria had taken my family, my love, my future. And now, she was throwing me back into the hands of my abuser. A primal rage broke through the numbness. With a guttural scream, I lunged across the table and wrapped my hands tightly around Victoria’s throat. The room erupted into chaos. My parents, Larry, Zack, and Loretta—they all moved at once, striking me down. Zack grabbed my wrists, twisting them until my bones popped out of their sockets. My mother’s palm cracked against my face. Larry’s boot slammed violently into my stomach. And then, a cold blade slid deep into my chest. Loretta stood over me, a bloody paring knife in her hand. The warmth of my own blood began to pool on the cold tile floor. “Hannah!”

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My mother called me with a single sentence. “Keep an eye on Charlotte, honey. She’s the kind of woman who builds her own house with bricks stolen from her family.” I hung up, and that very night, I listed my three properties in the Oakridge school district with my broker. Three days. All sold, cash cleared. At the family dinner, Charlotte sidled up to me, swirling her glass of wine. “So, I heard you have three townhouses in Oakridge? My little boy starts school next year, and I was thinking…” I blew gently on my tea, my eyes lifting to meet hers. “Oh, I sold them. Three days ago.” The smile on her face froze instantly. When my mother called, I was at the kitchen sink, scraping grease off dinner plates, the lemon-scented dish soap foaming over my knuckles. “Keep an eye on Charlotte,” she had said, her voice dry and steady over the static. “She’s the kind of woman who builds her own house with bricks stolen from her family.” Then she hung up. My mother never wasted breath. She didn’t offer long explanations or soft preambles. If she bothered to call, the threat wasn’t looming—it was already standing on the porch. I dried my hands on the dishtowel, standing in the silence of the kitchen for exactly three minutes. Then I unlocked my phone and dialed the broker. … “Hey, Robert, it’s me. Put those three Oakridge townhouses on the market. List them five percent below market value. I want them gone fast.” There was a brief pause on the other end. “All three? But those are gold mines, especially with the school district lines shifting. The market right now is—” “I know the market, Robert. I need speed.” After I hung up, I leaned against the refrigerator, letting the cold metal press into my back while I cataloged the last four years. Charlotte had married a man who worked the line at an assembly plant in the next county over. They lived a tight, gray life, always on the edge of a deficit. But she never visited her mother empty-handed—meaning she never arrived empty-handed, and she never left empty-handed. During my first year of marriage, she borrowed ten thousand dollars from my mother-in-law, Diana, claiming it was for her son’s medical bills. Diana emptied her savings account, leaving barely enough for groceries. To this day, not a single dollar of that loan had been repaid. The second year, Charlotte claimed her husband’s hours had been cut and they couldn’t afford heating. Diana handed over her retirement debit card to “tide them over.” When Charlotte finally returned it six months later, five thousand dollars had vanished from the account. By the third year, she had set her sights on Diana’s craftsman house downtown. She spent the entire summer dropping heavy hints. When Diana didn’t budge, Charlotte sat at the Sunday dinner table and wept. She lamented her hard life, her useless husband, and claimed that if her own blood wouldn’t throw her a lifeline, she didn’t know why she bothered living at all. My husband, Luke, sat beside her during that dinner, staring down at his plate, pushing peas around with his fork. He didn’t say a word. In this family, Luke’s silence was always a quiet surrender. I was a newlywed back then, naive to the silent transactions of the household. But my mother had seen through it immediately. “That sister-in-law of yours,” she had warned me over a glass of wine, “has eyes that live in other people’s pockets.” I hadn’t taken it seriously then. I did now. At last month’s family dinner, Charlotte had squeezed my hand, smiling like we were sisters. “So, I heard you have three rentals in Oakridge?” The hairs on my neck had stood up. I had only mentioned buying those properties to Luke. How did she find out? The math was simple: Luke told Diana, Diana told Charlotte. Once the pipeline was clear, her play was obvious. My mother’s phone call was the final piece of the puzzle. By Tuesday morning, Robert was bringing buyers. First townhouse: a cash buyer, signed by Tuesday afternoon. Second townhouse: full price, fast close on Wednesday. Third townhouse: closed Thursday morning. Three properties. Three days. The wire transfers hit my account like clockwork. When Luke came home from work and saw the three signed deeds on the dining table, his face went gray. “Are you insane? You sold all three?” I set my mug down. “When you told your mother about my assets, did you think to consult me first?” His mouth opened, then clicked shut. “You didn’t ask,” I said. “So neither did I.” He stood in the center of the living room, his car keys slipping from his fingers and clattering onto the hardwood. He didn’t even bend down to pick them up. I ignored him, locked the contracts in my desk drawer, and turned away. The net payout was 1.5 million dollars. I split the funds into three separate bank accounts, all under my maiden name. One card went into the safe at home, one stayed locked in my office drawer, and the third went to my mother’s safe deposit box. Luke spent the next few days in a sullen, heavy silence. But he didn’t bring it up again. Sullenness I could handle. Sullenness didn’t cost me 1.5 million dollars. On Friday evening, Diana called. “Dinner this Sunday. Your sister Charlotte is coming down. It’s been too long since the family sat together.” “Sure,” I said. When I hung up, Luke stepped out of the bedroom. “Don’t mention the houses at my mom’s.” I poured myself a glass of water. “I won’t have to. Charlotte will.” “If she asks, just say you’re still holding onto them.” I looked at him, feeling the cold weight of his cowardice. “You want me to lie?” “Not lie. Just… don’t make a scene.” “I didn’t start the fire, Luke. I just cleared out the dry wood.” He slammed the bedroom door behind him. Sunday came. Charlotte was already in Diana’s kitchen, wearing an apron, stirring a pot, laughing with her mother. When she saw me, she wiped her hands on her apron and rushed over. “Oh, you’re here! Sit, sit. I made that garlic-herb roasted chicken you love.” I smiled politely. We had been married four years, and last Thanksgiving she called me by Luke’s ex-girlfriend’s name. Now she suddenly knew my favorite dish? The table was packed. Diana sat at the head, Charlotte to her right, Luke and I opposite them. Charlotte’s husband was “working overtime,” and her son was “studying.” She had come alone, unburdened, ready for business. Midway through the meal, Charlotte set her fork down and raised her wine glass. “I want to propose a toast to my wonderful sister-in-law.” I raised my water glass. “I don’t drink, Charlotte. But thank you.” She took a sip, set the glass down, and leaned in. “Actually, I wanted to ask you for a small favor.” Here it was. I took a bite of my salad and didn’t look up. “Go ahead.” “My boy starts middle school next year. You know how terrible our local district is. I was thinking…” She paused, looking at Diana. Diana nodded encouragingly, picking up the cue. “Your sister’s had a rough patch. Education is everything for a young boy. Since you have those empty rentals in Oakridge, we figured you could register his name at one of the addresses. It won’t cost you a thing.” “Register.” What a polite word for fraud. I dabbed my mouth with a napkin and set it down. “Oh, I sold them. Three days ago.” The dining room fell into a suffocating silence. Charlotte’s glass hovered in midair. Diana’s fork stopped inches from her plate. Luke stared straight down at his mashed potatoes, chewing slowly. The sweet, sisterly smile on Charlotte’s face drained away, pixel by pixel. “Sold them? All three?” “Yes.” “When? Why didn’t you say anything to the family?” “They were in my name. What I do with my assets is my business.” Charlotte snapped her head toward Luke. “Luke, did you know about this?” Luke didn’t raise his head. “Yes.” Charlotte turned to Diana. Diana slammed her hand on the table. “You sell property without so much as a word to us? Is this how you treat your family? Do you have no respect for the people in this house?” I took a slow sip of water. “Diana, those townhouses were bought before I married Luke, using my own inheritance. My name is the only one on the deeds. I don’t need anyone’s permission to manage my own life.” Diana’s face flushed a deep, angry crimson. Charlotte began to dab at her dry eyes with a tissue. “I wasn’t trying to take them from you,” Charlotte sobbed. “I just wanted my son to have a chance at a good future. I can’t believe you’d…” I stood up, pulling my coat over my arm. “Thank you for the chicken, Charlotte. It was lovely.” I walked out. Luke called my name from the dining room, but I didn’t stop. I took an Uber home. The silence in the back seat was the cleanest thing I’d felt in months. I called my mother as soon as I walked through my front door. “Mom, how did you know she was going after the Oakridge properties?” My mother let out a dry chuckle. “Diana called me last week. Started babbling about how ‘we’re all one big family’ and asked if we could ‘help out’ with the boy’s schooling. Diana doesn’t have the brains to coordinate a scheme like that. Someone was whispering in her ear.” She sighed. “Diana isn’t malicious, she’s just weak. Charlotte cries a little, and Diana hands over whatever she has. But she can’t hand over what isn’t hers.” “I sold them all, Mom.” “Good. Money in your own bank account is the only thing that doesn’t lie to you.” “Luke is giving me the silent treatment.” “Let him pout. You don’t live your life to keep him warm. If he has a brain, he’ll figure it out. If he doesn’t…” My mother paused. “Well, then you’ll know where you stand.” I hung up and left the phone on the coffee table. Luke came home at ten. He didn’t say a word. He took a shower, went straight to the bedroom, and turned his back to me. I watched TV until eleven, then came in and climbed into bed, turning off the lamp. In the dark, his voice was sharp. “You humiliated my mother today.” “Where was this protective energy when your mother and sister tried to corner me for my property?” He rolled over to face me. “That’s my mother.” “And I’m your wife. Your family plotted to take my property, you sat there like a statue, and now you want to lecture me about respect?” A long, heavy silence. “Charlotte isn’t like that. You don’t understand her.” “Don’t I? Let’s do some math, Luke. In the four years we’ve been married, how much has she taken from your mother? The ten-thousand-dollar loan? The five thousand from the retirement card? The holiday ‘handouts’? Have you ever seen a single dollar returned?” He didn’t answer. “You can’t even count it, can you? It’s easily forty thousand dollars. Divide that by your monthly salary, Luke. Tell me how many months you have to work just to fund her lifestyle.” He sat up, his shadow dark against the headboard. “Do you have to reduce everything in this family to a transaction?” “It stopped being a family the moment your sister started treating my bank account like her personal ATM.” He stared at me, then lay back down, pulling the covers up. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” “You mean you can’t talk to me when you have no defense.” Neither of us spoke for the rest of the night. Monday afternoon, my phone buzzed with a voice note from Diana. “Luke’s wife, your sister came home crying her eyes out. She asked for a simple favor and you treated her like a criminal in front of everyone. You’re young, so I’ll overlook your lack of manners, but you owe Charlotte an apology. She is your elder, and you will respect her.” I listened to it, put the phone down, and went back to my spreadsheets. At two, Charlotte’s text arrived. “Hey, I don’t hold Sunday against you. Maybe I didn’t explain myself well and caused a misunderstanding. I honestly just want the best for my son. If it’s too much of a burden, I understand. But your attitude really hurt me. We’re family, we should be able to talk about these things, right?” I took a screenshot, saved it to a hidden folder, and replied with four words: “You’re absolutely right.” No apology. No explanation. She didn’t reply. I flipped my phone face down. But I knew Charlotte. Women like her don’t take a loss and walk away. They retreat, regroup, and look for a bigger hammer. On my drive home, my phone rang. It was Uncle Henry. “Hey, kiddo. I heard about what happened with Charlotte. Look, we’re family. Don’t let things get too bitter. Charlotte’s just a mother trying to do right by her kid. You understand that, don’t you?” I gripped the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green. “I hear you, Uncle Henry. I’ve got it handled.” “Good, good. She’s got a big mouth, but her heart’s in the right place.” I hung up and took a deep breath. The machinery was moving. Diana, Henry… who was next? Aunt Bridget? The whole family group chat? It was her classic play: play the victim, cry to the elders, and let the family guilt-trip you into submission until you hand over whatever she wanted just to make the noise stop. But this time, she wasn’t asking for a quick loan. She wanted a house. Actually, she wanted something much bigger. I parked the car in our driveway, sat in the quiet of the cabin for a long time, and then texted my mother. “Mom, I need you to find out something for me.”

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