My husband, Ethan, was diagnosed with low sperm count, so we decided to try IVF. Just before the embryo creation, I caught Ethan swapping my eggs with his first love, Chloe’s. I didn’t make a sound. I just swapped the eggs back. While I was at it, I also switched Ethan’s sperm with my ex-boyfriend’s. Twenty-five years later, Chloe showed up at my door, crying and clinging to my daughter: “My darling daughter, I’m your real mother!” 1 My daughter, Lily, and I returned home from a medical partnership trip abroad and were stunned. A huge crowd of distant relatives I rarely saw had gathered. It looked like the Ford family was having a reunion. The most glaring presence was Chloe, sitting in the middle of the sofa, crying. Ethan, my “good husband” who was rarely home, was holding her tenderly, comforting her softly. I raised an eyebrow, dropped my suitcase, and looked at Ethan: “What’s the occasion? So lively.” Lily stood behind me, arms crossed, glaring at Chloe with disgust. She already sensed who this woman was. My mother-in-law sat in the main seat, looking uncomfortable, hesitating to speak. Before Ethan could speak, Chloe threw herself at Lily, crying pear-shaped tears: “My darling daughter, I’m your real mother!” Lily dodged nimbly, frowning in disgust as if Chloe were something dirty. She stepped back, voice cold: “My mom’s name is Hannah.” That child, truly my heartwarming little jacket. I held Lily’s hand, gave her a reassuring look, then raised my hand and slapped Chloe across the face. The crisp sound echoed in the living room. “Don’t claim relations randomly.” My voice was cold, eyes like knives. Ethan shot up, helping Chloe up distressedly, pointing at me and roaring: “Hannah, are you crazy? How dare you hit Chloe!” He raised his hand as if to hit me. Lily was quick, stepping forward and slapping Ethan too. “You dare hit my mom?” Lily’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried unquestionable authority. Ethan froze, angry and furious, raising his hand to hit Lily. But Chloe grabbed him, crying fake tears: “Ethan, don’t hit her, that’s our daughter!” Her act of maternal love made me want to puke. Ethan lowered his hand, glaring at Lily viciously: “If not for your birth mother’s sake, I’d teach you a lesson today!” Lily sneered: “Heh, I’d like to see what ability you have to teach me.” Her sharp gaze was just like mine when I was young. I secretly rejoiced, truly a daughter I raised carefully! 2 An elder relative coughed, trying to suppress the chaotic scene. “Everyone quiet down!” His deep voice carried undeniable authority. Everyone gradually quieted down, eyes focused on the elder. He looked at Ethan: “Ethan, why did you call everyone here?” Ethan took a deep breath, as if gathering courage. He put his arm around Chloe’s shoulder, looking deeply affectionate. “Actually, today, I have important news to announce.” He paused, gaze sweeping over everyone, finally landing on Lily and me. I watched him quietly, seeing what monkey business he’d pull. “Lily, she… she’s not Hannah’s biological daughter.” Ethan’s voice wasn’t loud, but it exploded like a bomb in the living room. Lily turned sharply to look at me, eyes full of shock. I gestured for her to stay calm. The surrounding relatives whispered, like a school of sharks smelling blood, excitedly restless. “Back then, when we did IVF…” Ethan paused, as if difficult to speak, “The doctor said Hannah’s egg quality wasn’t good… Not to hurt her desire to be a mother, I swapped them with Chloe’s…” This idiot was sneaky, and now he was framing me! Ethan’s malicious gaze landed on me, seemingly expecting me to explode in rage. But I was calm and composed, so he had to continue performing. “Today, I called everyone here to witness…” He looked affectionately at Chloe, “Lily recognizing her biological mother.” The surrounding relatives instantly exploded. “Lily isn’t Hannah’s daughter, she definitely has to recognize her birth mother!” “Exactly, the hen that doesn’t lay eggs has occupied the Ford family daughter-in-law position for so many years, it’s time to step down and yield to the worthy!” “Hannah has dominated the Ford family business these years, now that the truth is out, it’s time for her to step down from Ford Group!” Listening to these discussions, I sneered inwardly. These ill-intentioned relatives had been suppressed and cleaned out of company management by me in recent years. They only profited from year-end dividends and were very dissatisfied with me. They were now happy to watch the show, seeing Ethan and me fall out, so they could return to the company to get a piece of the pie. Lily looked at the relatives who didn’t hide the greed in their eyes, her grip on my hand tightening. I spoke: “I gave birth to Lily, she will only be my child.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was resounding. Chloe put on a helpless look, sobbing: “Sister, how long are you going to deceive yourself?” 3 I wasn’t deceiving myself, Lily was indeed my child. Did Ethan and Chloe really think they could fool me? Back then, Ethan had low sperm count, so we decided on IVF. Before the embryo creation, I accidentally caught Ethan sneaking around with a nurse moving my egg storage locker, and heard him happily calling Chloe, saying he had swapped her eggs. At the time, I didn’t make a fuss. Without a word, I turned and gave the doctor a million dollars to swap back with the extra eggs I had retrieved earlier. I also “kindly” had the doctor swap Ethan’s sperm with my ex-boyfriend’s. The day of embryo creation, Ethan and I witnessed the birth of the “miracle” together. He was abnormally happy, probably thinking it was his and Chloe’s child. Watching his foolish look, I almost died laughing inside. These years, watching him treat Lily well like a jumping clown, I felt so refreshed. He wanted to cheat me, but didn’t expect to be a happy father for over twenty years. Ethan interrupted my memories, mocking me, “Stubborn duck, although Lily was born from your belly, the egg wasn’t yours! Her biological mother is Chloe.” My tone was calm, but with a hint of provocation: “Are you daydreaming?” “If you don’t believe me, let’s do a paternity test!” Ethan said firmly, “I also want a divorce! You treated me like a dog, forced me to marry, I’ve done my duty being with you for twenty-five years!” When he proposed divorce, a look of joy appeared on his face. Seems like he thought about it for a long time. Heh? He dares to say he’s done his duty to me? Marrying him for twenty-five years, I’ve been a widow for twenty-five years. When I raised the child alone, he was having an affair with Chloe. When I fought in the business world to support the Ford family, he was indulging in luxury and dissipation in entertainment venues. But he was wrong about one thing, I didn’t become his dog because I loved him, Marrying him was just to get the status of Ford family young mistress and control Ford Group. And now, Ford Group is completely under my control. So, Ethan has no use anymore! “Divorce is fine,” I shrugged indifferently, “But there’s no need for a paternity test, I’m sure Lily is my child.” Lily looked at me, eyes firm: “Mom, I believe you.” Ethan and Chloe instantly got anxious. “Lily, don’t you believe Dad?” Lily ignored him, just snuggling close to me. Just then, a boy looking like a college student burst in. He walked straight to Lily, shouting excitedly: “Sister!” Everyone present was stunned. One extra mom was one thing, how did an extra brother pop up? 4 Looking at the boy who resembled Chloe, I had a suspicion. This must be Ethan and Chloe’s illegitimate son. Kept it hidden well, didn’t let me find out for over twenty years. Seems like this show is more exciting than I imagined. Mother-in-law sat at the head, looking at the boy, dignified without anger: “Ethan, what’s going on?” The atmosphere in the living room solidified again. The boy looked red-eyed, like he was about to cry. “Sister, my name is Noah, I… I always knew about your existence.” He stammered a bit, voice not loud, but with a tremor. He stole a glance at me, then quickly lowered his head, as if afraid I’d blame him. “My… my mom, she often talked to me about you, saying you’re excellent, very beautiful…” Chloe sobbed appropriately, covering her mouth with a handkerchief, shoulders trembling. “Lily, my darling daughter, Mom has really missed you these years…” She looked up, eyes teary, as if she had suffered a huge grievance. “Noah he… he also always missed you, we often secretly went to see you…” Noah quickly nodded, eagerly adding: “Really! Sister, I went to your school just to… just to be closer to you…” He took out a stack of photos from his pocket, carefully handing them to Lily. “These are your photos, I… I secretly took them…” Lily took the stack of photos, flipped through them roughly. Photos of her wearing graduation gowns, smiling brightly; tired after dance practice; debating with classmates, in high spirits… Lily felt goosebumps arise. All these years, a pervert-like guy was hiding near her, stalking her, secretly photographing her! Ethan wasn’t idle either, walking to Mother-in-law, pointing at Noah, tone heavy. “Mom, this is the Ford family grandson! Today the relatives are also here to witness, you… you recognize him!” Ethan was a bit smart, he knew after Father-in-law passed away, the one with the say in the Ford family was actually Mother-in-law. He invited the relatives over just to pressure Mother-in-law to recognize this child. He was certain if Mother-in-law agreed to let Noah recognize his ancestors and return to the clan, I would have nothing to say. After all, for twenty-five years, he also observed my obedience and filial piety to Mother-in-law. Noah was clever, immediately turned to Mother-in-law, respectfully called out: “Grandma!” Mother-in-law looked at Noah, then at me, eyes complex, didn’t immediately respond to Noah. I knew Mother-in-law loved me. I couldn’t bear Mother-in-law being in a difficult position, so I spoke to break the silence, “Ethan, letting this illegitimate son recognize his ancestors and inherit the Ford family is your real purpose, right? Why drag Lily into it!”

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I finally worked up the courage to confess to my crush before graduation. I wrote him a long, heartfelt essay. He rejected me politely, saying he liked someone else. Bitterly, I typed back: “I wish you happiness.” “Xander.” He replied with a question mark. “?” “I’m Liam.” Crap. Did I just confess to the Valedictorian by mistake? 1 There was a legend at our school. Handsome, top of the class, plays varsity basketball. His name is Liam Stone. With one year left until graduation, I was sitting comfortably at the top of the class rankings and feeling a bit bored. I decided I needed a crush to spice things up. But half the school was in love with Liam Stone. I knew I didn’t stand a chance in that queue. So, I set my sights on Liam’s desk-mate and best buddy. Xander Cruz. A tanned, athletic jock who was back in senior year to catch up on his academics. 2 Week one of observing Xander: I discovered he was actually pretty nice. When I dropped my pen, he, sitting in front of me, would eagerly pick it up. Unlike Liam, who was cold and silent. Liam sat there like an ice sculpture, never even turning his head. Week two of observing Xander: I discovered he wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. Compared to the genius Liam next to him, it was… noticeable. But I figured I needed some motivation to come to school, so I forced myself to have a crush on him. I couldn’t like Liam. He was too out of reach. 3 Soon, I found another pro for Xander. Stamina. During the track meet, he ran the 1000 meters without gasping, like an ox. Liam, on the other hand, turned red despite his pale skin. At the finish line, he was bent over, panting. I walked towards Xander with a water bottle, but saw a crowd of girls already surrounding him. Suddenly, I felt resistant. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liam. He had straightened up and was standing properly near the finish line, quite close to me. I handed the water to him instead. Liam coughed lightly before speaking. “Thanks.” I shook my head, looking at Xander surrounded by the crowd, feeling a bit disappointed. Seems Xander is popular too. 4 Recently, the school forum started a poll for “School Hottie.” Xander snuck his phone into study hall to show me. Currently, the security guard at the gate was #1. Liam was #2. Xander was somewhere in the double digits. My desk-mate, Sarah, sighed. “The guard is just a meme. Everyone knows the real king is Liam.” Xander suddenly asked me. “Grace, what do you think?” In the front row, Liam, who was focused on his work, leaned back imperceptibly. I didn’t notice. “I think you’re good-looking too, Xander.” Xander raised an eyebrow, glanced at Liam, and laughed. “I think so too. Honestly, Liam is just average.” He leaned closer to talk to me. “Grace, you have great taste!” Obviously. I spent a month forcing myself to find this tanned jock attractive. Xander leaned even closer. He whispered, “Do you really think I’m better looking than Liam?” Glancing at Liam’s cold, pale profile, I hesitated for a second, then nodded immediately. “Absolutely.” Xander was so happy his eyebrows danced. He kept stealing glances at Liam. He wanted to say more. But Liam spoke coldly. “You’re loud.” Must have disturbed his studying. But we were whispering. So unfriendly… 5 I missed the last monthly exam, so this time I was in the same exam room as Xander. With thirty minutes left, I finished my paper and got bored, so I observed Xander. He wasn’t writing. He was looking around. He scanned half the room and found me. He jerked his chin at me, holding a paper ball. Is he asking for answers? “Grace, for you…” The proctor walked over right then and grabbed Xander’s hand. “Student, I’ve been watching you. Cheating? What is this?” The teacher opened the paper ball. I looked over curiously. If he was asking for answers, my crush was about to turn into trash. The paper was flattened. Inside… Was a piece of gum. Xander smiled shyly. “I saw she was bored. Giving her a snack.” The proctor and I were both silent. After the exam, Liam came over. Weird. Usually, he studied in his own exam room. Liam stood in front of Xander, his back to me, showing a handsome profile, standing straight. I didn’t know what they were saying. “Grace, how did you do?” Liam suddenly turned to ask me. “Pretty good.” Liam pursed his lips and nodded. Why ask? Trying to steal my rank? Schemer. During the second exam, I finished and watched Xander again. He took out his phone. I thought he was cheating, but he just scrolled TikTok for the whole period. Didn’t even read comments, just scrolling. Giggling while scrolling. After the exam, I asked him how he dared to bring a phone. He looked shocked. “How did you know?” Then he laughed dryly and whispered. “I was bored. Didn’t know any of the answers.” “Why didn’t you look them up?” Xander looked at me, righteous. “That would be cheating!” Me: …Respect. 6 Results came out. I was first again. Surprisingly, Liam was second. I have to admit, in senior year, Liam improved fast. Only a few dozen points behind me. But he still needs practice. Next time, I’ll control my score to give him false hope. Hehe, fun. 7 Xander got a 250. Not an insult. He ranked 250th in the grade. Sarah laughed at him, but he wasn’t mad. “So many people in the grade, and I got this specific rank. I’m the chosen one.” I chimed in. “The chosen idiot?” Xander rubbed the back of his head, eyes bright like a puppy. “I’ll do better next time.” I found another pro for Xander. Optimism. 8 Liam kept asking me questions lately, so I had no time to observe Xander. Between classes, he stood by my desk in his uniform, holding a pen with those pale, defined fingers, looking down at me. “Grace, do you know how to solve this?” I couldn’t refuse. I watched him walk to my side. His exquisite eyes stared at me, listening intently. Liam smelled like cold, clean air. It was nice. One question after another. During evening study hall, he even took Sarah’s seat. Sarah praised his thirst for knowledge. But why did he keep asking me simple questions? And chatting with me. Seriously, I suspect Liam wants to steal my first place. 9 No progress with Xander. I actively asked Xander if he had any questions. Xander thought for a moment and opened his chemistry book. “Why is this element here? Can’t it be over there?” Me: … “Ask Mendeleev.” Xander looked blank, staring at me with clear, stupid eyes. “Who’s Mendeleev? An exchange student?” I suddenly got the ick. Maybe I should like Liam. At least he knows Mendeleev. 10 My stomach was upset during study hall. Coming out of the bathroom, I bumped into Liam and Xander. Xander wasn’t in uniform, wearing a black tee. His back looked muscular. Liam was in uniform, slender and straight like a poplar tree. Different styles. I had to admit, my eyes were easily drawn to Liam. I decided to like Liam. Then I heard Xander teasing Liam: “Peacocking much? Did you hear? The girl you like said I’m better looking than you~” Liam pursed his lips, the air around him dropping in temperature. “None of your business.” They walked away. I stood there frozen. So Liam has someone he likes. Guess I have to force myself to like Xander after all. The next morning, I told Sarah that Liam had a crush, so she should stop liking him. Sarah pouted. “I was just joking. Liam looks unreachable. Who would actually like him?” I agreed deeply. Someone like Liam is for viewing, not touching. Especially since he’s taken. “But who on earth thinks Xander is better looking than Liam?” Sarah mused. “Liam is the universally acknowledged hottie.” I lifted my chin in agreement. “Seems Liam’s crush has bad taste.” Not tasteless, just… niche.

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I was about to start the board meeting when the new intern sat at the head of the table. She told me I was unqualified to be CEO and demanded I step down. She claimed that as a woman, I was only good for a political marriage, not for inheriting the family empire. She also announced she was pregnant with my father’s son, and that everything in the company belonged to her unborn child. A shareholder stood up, furious. “Security! Drag this crazy woman out!” But she calmly displayed a family photo on the big screen. In the photo, she was wearing a wedding dress, my father’s arm around her, standing behind my grandparents. Then she accused the shareholder and me of having an affair, claiming we had imprisoned my father just to embezzle the company’s assets. I rushed up and slapped her across the face. She immediately video-called my father to complain. My father roared through the phone, calling me unfilial for hitting my stepmother and demanding I kneel and apologize. I was stunned. My father died in a plane crash five years ago. I identified the body myself. 1 “Chloe Vance, your father wants me to take over as CEO.” Jessica Miller crossed her legs, twirling her hair while speaking in a provocative tone: “Since you’re a daughter, you’re only useful for marriage alliances, not for inheriting the business.” “Now that I’m carrying your father’s son—the only male heir of the Vance family—your father said the company is mine to manage.” Listening to this absurdity, I couldn’t help but ask: “My father died five years ago. Did you not do any research before coming here to cause trouble?” Five years ago, my father went on a business trip abroad and died in a plane crash. When I arrived, all that was left was a charred body. Though I couldn’t believe it, I had to accept the facts. I watched him being pushed into the crematorium. I buried him with my own hands. Five years later, someone claims to be pregnant with his child? How is that possible? Even if it were his, has she been pregnant for five years? Everyone in the conference room looked at Jessica with disbelief. New employees whispered in the corners, but most people looked at her like she was insane. The accident was huge news back then. Every major media outlet reported it. The company’s management knew clearly about my father’s death. If I hadn’t taken over back then, Vance Corp would have been eaten alive by competitors. Uncle Zhang, my father’s former partner, couldn’t help but speak up: “I saw Robert’s body. It was burned beyond recognition. I helped his niece handle the funeral. How could he have a child with you?” My assistant, sensing the mood, stepped forward to ask Jessica to leave. Suddenly, she stood up, lifted her shirt to reveal a baby bump, and pointed righteously at the assistant. “I’m pregnant! You can’t touch me!” Everyone froze. No one dared to use force on a pregnant woman. I looked at Jessica coldly and said: “My father has been dead for five years. Everyone here knows it. I don’t care whose child you’re carrying, but it’s impossible to be my father’s.” “If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police!” Jessica sneered. “Tch. That’s just your side of the story. Who here attended your father’s funeral?” “I’m here today to get justice for your father!” As soon as she said this, whispers started, and people looked at me with suspicion. I was angry but helpless. Recovering my father’s body from the crash site had taken days. Because of the delay and condition of the body, the funeral was very simple, known only to the closest family members. A memorial service was held three years later. “Speechless, right?” Jessica looked at me triumphantly. “Do you have evidence that it’s my father’s child?” I asked curiously. “Hmph, I knew you wouldn’t cry until you saw the coffin. This is the disownment letter your father wrote!” Jessica slammed a document on the table. I picked it up immediately, wanting to end this farce. But when I saw the signature, my mind went blank. It was my father’s handwriting, stamped with his personal seal. But my father has definitely been dead for five years. What is going on? 2 Looking at Jessica’s arrogant face, a doubt surged in my heart. Did my father come back from the dead? But that’s impossible. Uncle Zhang looked at the document and frowned. “This isn’t right. Robert’s seal was buried with him.” I remembered. All my father’s personal items were buried with him. Including his personal seal. Handwriting can be forged, but to get the seal, someone would have to rob the grave. Uncle Zhang was experienced. He quickly deduced everything. He took out his phone and called the cemetery manager. “Check Robert Vance’s grave. See if it’s been disturbed.” The manager replied quickly: “Mr. Zhang, please wait a moment. I’ll check right now.” Uncle Zhang hung up and tossed the asset transfer document aside. “Little girl, Robert is dead. His seal was voided. Even if someone robbed the grave, this document is invalid.” Soon, the manager sent a video of the grave. Uncle Zhang played it. My father’s grave was intact. Not robbed. So how did she get the stamp? I stared at the video, lost in thought. Jessica glanced at the screen, her face twisting into a hideous expression. She snatched Uncle Zhang’s phone and smashed it on the floor. Smash! The screen shattered into a spiderweb. “Chloe Vance, you’re really something! To steal the company, you conspired with outsiders to build a fake grave!” “Are you two sleeping together?” “Zhang, you have no shame, sleeping with your partner’s daughter.” She pointed at us and cursed. Uncle Zhang, over fifty years old, turned red with rage at being insulted by a young girl. “The airline notified Robert’s niece to identify the body. We even did DNA testing. It was undoubtedly Robert.” “Do you think we wouldn’t know these things?” I couldn’t help but remind her. “Jessica, were you scammed?” Unexpectedly, this sentence poked the hornet’s nest. She became even more agitated. “You are the biggest liars!” “You lied to everyone saying your dad died, but he’s alive! You’ve been keeping him prisoner in the old mansion!” “Once I control the company, everyone will know about your collusion!” I couldn’t tolerate Jessica’s nonsense anymore. I shouted, “Enough!” “I don’t care where you heard these lies or whose child you’re carrying.” “This has nothing to do with me or Vance Corp. But I will investigate where you got that seal!” Instead of waking up, she sneered sarcastically. “You adulterous couple are scared now.” “You think I don’t have proof? Fine, look at this!” She took out her phone, opened the gallery, and shoved it in my face. Looking at the photo on the screen, I felt like I’d fallen into an ice cave. It was a photo taken inside the Vance family estate. Jessica was wearing loungewear, relaxing on the sofa. On the table sat my father’s favorite antique vase, worth millions. What shocked me more was the next photo— She lifted her shirt to reveal her pregnant belly, and a smiling man was leaning close to it. It was my father, who had been dead for five years. My face turned ashen instantly. 3 Seeing that photo, I felt nauseous. I suppressed my anger and asked, “How did you get into my house? Who is this man?” She laughed contemptuously. “How else? Your dad let me in.” She held out her right hand. On her finger was a jade thumb ring. “Recognize this?” My heart clenched. That was the Vance family heirloom ring. My father used to joke that if he couldn’t give me a brother, he’d take this ring to his grave. After his accident, I really buried it with him as a funerary object. But now, it was on Jessica’s hand. I stared at the jade ring, rage boiling in my chest. “Take it off! That’s the Vance family heirloom. How do you have it?” I shouted sternly and reached out to grab it. Jessica dodged nimbly. She wagged her finger smugly. “Your dad put this on me personally.” “He said it’s the family treasure, to be passed down to our son.” “Besides, you’re just a girl. What right do you have to compete with my son?” “The Vance family assets belong to my son. Even if you steal them, you’ll have to give them back.” “Can you afford to pay if you lose such a precious item?” I couldn’t hold back anymore. I lunged to snatch the ring. Jessica dodged suddenly. I fell hard onto the floor, my elbow hitting a chair. I gasped in pain. She, on the other hand, lay on the floor and started wailing. “Murder! Chloe Vance is killing people!” “To steal the inheritance, she’s killing her unborn brother!” Jessica’s scene made everyone look at me strangely. They had seen her evidence and started to believe her, pointing fingers at me. “CEO Vance is ruthless. Imprisoning her dad, conspiring to steal the family fortune…” “The Vance family raised an ungrateful wolf. Looks like we have to cancel our contracts with Vance Corp.” “But she is capable. Expanded the company several times in a few years.” “Who knows if Zhang helped her? Serves him right for doing all the work for someone else!” Uncle Zhang was slandered as having an affair with me. Partners demanded to cancel contracts. He couldn’t defend himself, so he turned to Jessica. “Miss, I have no grudge against you. Why slander me?” Jessica climbed up from the floor, smugly saying: “Who’s slandering you? It’s a fact you two are sleeping together.” “Also, I called the police when I arrived. You adulterous couple wait for jail.” Then Jessica made a video call. “Honey, what’s wrong? Is Chloe bullying you?” The voice from the phone made my eyes wet. It really was my father’s voice. I snatched the phone and saw the man on the screen. I couldn’t believe it was real. But the man’s face changed instantly. “Chloe Vance, you have the face to see me? You locked me in the mansion for five years. If not for Jessica, I wouldn’t know when I’d get out.” “Resign immediately! Let Jessica take over!” “And Zhang, taking advantage of my injury to say I died. I will settle this score with him!” Jessica snatched the phone back, arrogant. “Hubby, these dogs are terrible. They still won’t step down.” I finally lost it and slapped her face. Jessica clutched her cheek, looking at me in disbelief. “You dare hit me?” “Do you know who I am? Technically, I’m your mother! Your father’s child is in my belly!” She cried, screaming hysterically: “Come to the company quickly! Your daughter is killing me!” “You wait! When your dad gets here, I’ll have him kick you out first!” I slapped her again. Gritting my teeth, I said, “My father is dead. How can that man be my father?” She sneered. “If he’s dead, how did he sleep with me? How did I get pregnant with the Vance heir?” I froze. If that man isn’t my father, how does he look exactly like him, sound exactly like him? Who is orchestrating this? What is their goal? I wanted to question Jessica, but Uncle Zhang stopped me. “Wait for him to come. Let’s see if it’s really Robert. If not, I won’t spare them!” Just then, a squad of police officers pushed open the door. “Chloe Vance, David Zhang. We received a report that you imprisoned Vance Group CEO Robert Vance.” “Please come with us.” I was shocked. Uncle Zhang was furious. “Do you have evidence? I’ll file a complaint for false arrest!” Uncle Zhang was quickly subdued and pinned to the table. “Since we are here, we have evidence.” They showed their badges and the report evidence. Photos were spread out, all showing my father in the Vance estate. Jessica seized the moment. “I also want to report that Chloe Vance conspired with David Zhang to build a fake grave for my husband.” “They are having an affair and want to steal Vance Group!” “Just now, Chloe Vance assaulted a pregnant woman, almost causing a miscarriage!” I felt cold all over. Uncle Zhang shouted about injustice to no avail. The evidence was there. We had to be taken away. The conference room was chaotic. Some gloated, some rushed to distance themselves. In an instant, Uncle Zhang and I became public enemies. Suddenly, Jessica rushed towards the door. “Hubby, you’re finally here!” Everyone looked. The room went silent. When I saw the person clearly. I froze too. It was him?

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The semi-truck was a runaway missile. One second, I was rushing toward the biggest company launch of the quarter; the next, a screech of tires, an eruption of metal, and the world was just fire and twisted steel. It was my best friend, Dustin “Dust” Rhodes, who dragged me from the wreckage. He didn’t make it out unscathed; a shard of shrapnel from the explosion caught him. Lying in the trauma bay, barely conscious, I watched him, bandaged and pale, call my fiancée, Seraphina “Sera” Lowell. Her reply was casual, dismissive: “Alex, darling, Owen’s new game is in beta testing today. I’m running diagnostics for him. Nothing important. Gotta go!” Dust lost it, hanging up and immediately calling his own girlfriend, Jillian “Jill” Maxwell, to beg for help finding a specialist. “Seriously, Dust? Don’t be dramatic. Owen’s project is huge. I’m crunching his data right now!” When I finally clawed my way back from the edge of the abyss, my eyes met Dust’s across the sterile white of the hospital room. My voice was a rasp, but the words were solid: “I want to call off the engagement.” Dust didn’t hesitate. “You cancel, I cancel.” The panic that caused in those two women was exactly what we expected. 1 Dustin was a man of immediate action. After confirming the cold, hard facts—which, frankly, involved little more than a replay of the call logs—he sent Jillian a succinct text: We’re done. I was still immobilized, confined to the bed. The doctors had finished a grueling debridement, but a few pieces of glass were lodged deep, dangerously close to vital organs. They hadn’t pulled me out of the danger zone yet. The monitoring machine beside me provided the rhythmic, unnerving soundtrack to my private war with death. Only Dust was with me. He was patched up, too—bandages on his arm and a gash across his forehead, battle scars he earned saving my life. We were two soldiers on a retreat, one sitting, one prone, quietly licking our wounds. “Tomorrow was the rehearsal dinner,” Dust observed, his voice flat as he glanced at the wall calendar. My throat felt raw and burned from the smoke and fumes. I could only manage a quiet nod. The real engagement party? Clearly not happening. Just then, my phone broke the heavy silence. Dust picked it up from the nightstand. His face immediately darkened. “It’s Sera.” I gestured for him to answer and put it on speaker. “Alex Montgomery!” Sera’s voice was sharp, a high-pitched spike of accusation, not concern. “What on earth is going on with you? The rehearsal dinner is in an hour! Why aren’t you here?” I coughed twice, trying to clear my throat. “I’m in the hospital… I can’t make it. I told you yesterday.” “Oh, that’s rich!” Her tone was filled with the kind of impatience one reserves for a spoiled child. “Just because I went with Owen Keller for a doctor’s visit yesterday, you’re pulling this petty stunt? Do you have any idea how many high-profile guests are confirmed?” “I am genuinely in the hospital,” my voice was thin, but steady. “St. Jude’s Medical Center. Intensive Care Unit.” “Fine. If you’re going to be like that, I’ll drive over and pick you up myself,” she threatened. “You’d better be there, or you’ll regret it.” “I am here.” “Alex!” Her volume ratcheted up again. “If you stand me up, you are facing consequences. The party starts in an hour, and I won’t wait!” Dust couldn’t take it anymore. He snatched the phone. “Are you deaf, Sera? He said hospital! He said ICU!” His voice was a furious roar. “You two self-obsessed witches! Owen had a damn stomach flu and you were glued to his side. Alex almost died in a fire trap and you couldn’t be bothered to make a single follow-up call!” Before he could finish his tirade, the line went dead. She’d hung up. Dust was shaking, his face pale with rage. He paced the small perimeter of the room like a caged lion. Then, his own phone rang. He glanced at the screen, a cold smirk twisting his lips. He answered, putting it on speaker without a word. “Dustin, where are you?” Jill’s voice echoed in the room. “It’s the day I’m meeting my parents! I sent you the location! Are you intentionally missing this?” Dust’s eyes turned to ice. “Meeting your parents? Jill, I told you last night. We are broken up. An ex is supposed to drop off the face of the earth. Vanish. You should be six feet under in my world.” He paused, letting the silence hang heavy. “You want me to meet your parents? I think I should be buying flowers for your funeral instead.” Jill was clearly stung. Her voice trembled. “Du-Dustin! You will regret this! Fine. You want to break up? We’re through!” Dust ended the call without another word and efficiently blocked her number and all social media profiles. Done. He exhaled, patting his own chest. He turned to me. “My side is settled. We’ll deal with yours when you’re stronger. Don’t let those sociopaths give you a heart attack.” I looked at him and managed a weak, grateful smile. 2 My forced absence, predictably, caused Seraphina a tremendous loss of face. She called several times. I ignored the first two. The third time, I just silenced the phone. The texts she sent went unread, treated like a relic of a dead past. The final one flashed on the screen: Alex, this is completely irresponsible! I stared at the words but didn’t reply. The planning and execution of today’s engagement party had been entirely under the command of the Lowell family. My input was never valued. I was just a functional prop in her carefully scripted life. My own parents divorced when I was twelve and both remarried. Though their lives centered elsewhere, they’d never neglected basic care or financial support. When they heard about the crash, they instantly canceled their travel plans and were flying back. And Sera? She hadn’t bothered to ask about my injuries. She’d ignored my clear decision to cancel the engagement. Since she chose not to believe me, why should I debase myself by explaining? The audacity of her next move still blindsided me: she found a stand-in to complete the ceremony. In the afternoon, during my dressing change, two young nurses were gossiping. Their conversation drifted into my sterile bubble. “Did you hear? Sera Lowell got engaged today. Her fiancé is gorgeous! So talented, too.” “Right? She’s so lucky. Look, they took a selfie. They look so perfect together!” I couldn’t help but lift my head to see the photo on the nurse’s phone. In the picture, Sera was standing beside Owen Keller, her head nestled casually on his shoulder. Her smile was blinding, radiant. They did look like a perfect match. A foregone conclusion. My eyes suddenly stung—not from the antiseptic, but from a sharp, acidic ache deep in my chest. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” The nurse changing my bandage asked with immediate concern. “I’ll be gentler.” “It hurts a little,” I replied softly. My eyes were suddenly damp. “But I can handle it.” Dust reached over and squeezed my wrist, a silent pledge of support. I shook my head at him. “It’s fine. This pain is nothing.” In truth, it hurt like hell, but compared to the searing humiliation of Sera’s public betrayal, the physical pain was merely a dull backdrop. When we were alone, Dust tried to comfort me. “They’re both sociopathic trash, Alex. They don’t deserve your grief.” “Oh, guess what,” he suddenly changed the subject. “That crazy Jill just messaged me. She made a pot of fish chowder! Said she made it especially for me!” “I’m allergic to fish, a potentially lethal allergy, which I’ve told her at least twenty times! We’re broken up, is she completely unhinged?” I couldn’t help a small laugh. “She’s not unhinged, Dust. She just never bothered to care about you. If it were Owen, she’d remember every single detail.” Dust was silent for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. Forget them. Let’s find something else.” He grabbed his tablet and pulled up a streaming platform. “There’s this viral food blogger who makes people try weird specialty desserts. Their reactions are hilarious.” He expertly navigated to the blogger’s live feed. A familiar face appeared on the screen: Jill Maxwell. “Ma’am, please try this bespoke confection. You get to say one thing to the camera when you finish,” the host grinned. Jill took a bite. Her face instantly twisted in disgust, but she forced a sickeningly sweet smile. “I hope the next person gets the cherry blossom flavor, especially you, Owen! I’m rooting for you always!” She blew a heart kiss to the camera. I was about to swipe away, but Dust stopped me. He furiously typed into the comment section: You remember Owen Keller’s favorite Cherry Blossom flavor, but you always forget your boyfriend is deathly allergic to fish! The comment was immediately swallowed by the flood of other messages. I patted Dust’s shoulder. “Our lives are better without them in it.” He agreed, but the streamer’s viewers had already recognized Jill. “Isn’t that the Maxwell heiress? No way, seeing her here!” “That guy she’s rooting for is so lucky!” “My Lady, your loyal servant has been waiting. How may I be of service?” The digital commotion made Jill an instant viral sensation. Soon after, Owen posted a picture on his social media: Cherry blossom dessert received. Happiness is manifesting your dreams. The photo showed a plate of the elegant pink dessert, and sitting across the table, beaming at the camera, was Jill. Dust snorted with contempt. “Look at that pathetic lapdog.” I had to laugh out loud. Dust was right. They were both pathetic, orbiting around Owen, never considering who the real winner was. Maybe no one. 3 Seraphina and Owen’s makeshift engagement ceremony should have marked the end of my relationship. Once I was discharged, I planned to meticulously return everything she had ever given me. She’d bought me several expensive items during our time, but I wasn’t the type to hold onto a single thing. A clean, clinical end was always my preference. Forty-eight hours later, my condition stabilized, and I was moved to a standard room. The attending physician came in for his rounds, looking over my chart and shaking his head. “Mr. Montgomery, you are one lucky man,” he said, looking at the X-rays. “That piece of glass was less than an inch from your heart. Any deeper, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He closed the file, his expression serious. “Going forward, you need extreme emotional control. No excitement, no profound sadness. Focus on rest.” “Thank you, Doctor.” I nodded. The doctor had barely left when my phone rang. It was Sera’s office line. I’d forgotten to block that one. After a moment of hesitation, I answered. “You saw the photos online, I assume?” Sera’s voice came through the receiver, still devoid of any real concern. “If Owen hadn’t stepped up that day, the ceremony would have been a disaster! “You’ve had your little fit. Time to come home. Stop acting like a child!” I gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Sera, I am not coming back.” “What exactly do you want?” Her voice jumped in pitch. “I’ve already explained to my parents that despite your absence, we are honoring the engagement! “If you continue this nonsense, we are really done!” I took a deep breath. “Sera, I am lying in a hospital. This made the news. A little basic care would have told you that.” A cold laugh came from the other end. “You’re just making up a hospital story to retaliate because I accompanied Owen to the doctor, aren’t you?” “Fine. Tell me, what hospital? What floor? Who is your attending physician?” I answered calmly. “St. Jude’s, Surgical Ward, Room 24. Come now. My doctor is still on the floor.” “You wait right there. I’m coming.” She hung up. Sera was the Design Director at the company. There was no way she didn’t know about one of her top designers being hospitalized. She’d simply been too busy playing wife to Owen to read any internal notices, entirely unaware that I was right under her nose. Half an hour later, a commotion started in the hallway. Sera had arrived, and Owen was with her. I leaned back on the pillows, eyes closed, listening to the overly dramatic gasps and cheers outside. “Oh my God, they really are the perfect couple!” “Look at them. Are they here to flaunt their happiness? I’m so jealous!” “Designer Keller is even better looking in person. Director Lowell is so lucky!” I opened my eyes, a sardonic smile playing on my lips. These people probably didn’t realize that the “fiancé” was merely a last-minute substitute. But thinking about it now, I was the redundant one. They had publicly announced their engagement. They were, technically, the legitimate couple now. Sera gave only the briefest acknowledgments to her colleagues’ compliments, while Owen wore a smug, entitled expression. His voice was loud, laced with a practiced charm. “Thanks for taking care of Sera. I ordered coffee for the whole floor. It’ll be up soon.” “Wow, Designer Keller is not only talented but so thoughtful!” Amidst the chorus of flattery, they appeared in my doorway. Owen had his arm possessively around Sera’s waist, his eyes full of a childish triumph. Sera clearly faltered when she saw me actually lying in the bed. Her eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on the private suite, her brow instantly furrowed. “Do you know how tight the company’s medical resource budget is? You’re hogging a single room just to make a statement?” “A statement to you?” I looked up, my eyes filled with cold mockery. “Who are you, Sera, that I would go to this much trouble just to spite you?” “Alex Montgomery!” she raised her voice. “I’m right here. No need to shout,” I said calmly. “We are over. He is now your fiancé. Did you come here specifically to assert your dominance?” “Well then, I wish you both a happy and miserable life together.” Sera’s face went rigid with fury. “How dare you insult us? “Apologize! Now!” I met her stare. “Apologize? Not a chance.” Sera was shaking with rage. Owen quickly pulled her back. “Don’t get upset, Sera. Alex is sick. He’s emotional. Don’t pay him any mind.” “He’s doing this on purpose!” Sera glared at me. “Who is your attending physician? He’s clearly complicit in this elaborate act!” I looked at her coolly. “Sera, have you had enough? You’re not my doctor, so why all the questions?” “I have agreed to break up with you. Why can’t you leave me alone? Dating two men at once—doesn’t that make you sick?” Sera suddenly lifted her hand to strike my face. I was ready. I leaned to the side, dodging the blow, and at the same time pressed the call button on the bedside unit. As she recoiled in shock, I lifted my hand and delivered a sharp, open-handed slap across her face. The crisp crack echoed through the room. Owen stood wide-eyed, then rushed to Sera’s side, tenderly touching her cheek. “How could you do that? Sera came here out of concern for you, and you hit her!” “She threw the first punch,” I said, shaking my hand and staring at them. “I didn’t invite either of you.” Sera’s lip trembled. The red imprint of my fingers was clear on her pale skin. “Sera, are we clear now?” I pointed to the door. “Get out. I don’t want to see you again.”

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My son, Leo, stood in the doorway, holding a phone. I was washing dishes and asked, without looking, “Where did you get that?” “From Dad.” “Put it back.” “But Dad has two phones, Mom.” I dried my hands and walked over. It was an older Samsung, not the sleek new iPhone Daniel usually carried. “This one…” I took the phone. The screen lit up. The WeChat interface. The pinned chat was labeled, “Wifey.” I stared at the two words, my fingers going rigid. “Mom, the other phone Dad has, there’s an auntie who calls him ‘Honey,’ too.” Leo tilted his head, blinking up at me, his face utterly innocent. The clock in the living room ticked, a slow, relentless sound. I slowly crouched down and stroked my son’s hair. “Leo, Mommy is going to keep this phone for a while.” My voice was unnervingly calm. But the hand holding the phone was shaking. 1 Daniel didn’t come home that night. He sent a text saying he had client obligations and told me not to wait up. I didn’t reply. I sat on the sofa with two phones laid out before me. One was his usual iPhone; the other was the Samsung Leo had dug out of his gym bag. He’d left in a hurry and forgotten it. Or, more accurately, for six years, he had hidden this phone flawlessly, never bringing it home. Until tonight. I took a deep breath and opened the Samsung. There were only two contacts in the chat list. One was “Wifey,” and the other was “Mom.” I tapped on “Wifey’s” chat log. The date of the very first message was March 7, 2018. That was the second year of our marriage. “Honey, I miss you.” “Me too, babe.” I scrolled down. “Honey, can you come out tonight?” “Can’t. She’s watching me closely lately. Just wait.” She. That was me. I kept scrolling. “Honey, you said you’d marry me, right?” “Of course, when the time is right.” “Honey, this month’s rent is due.” “Okay, I’ll transfer it now.” The transfer records. $1,500. Every single month, without fail. $1,500. My hand trembled. Further down. “Wifey, I found the car I promised. The Mini Cooper you like.” “Really? You’re the best, Honey!” “It’s forty thousand down. I’ll cover it.” Another transfer. I continued. “Wifey, I’m looking at condos for us. As soon as I save up the down payment, I’ll buy it.” “Oh, Honey, I want one with a huge balcony!” “Done. Whatever you want.” I scrolled mechanically. One year. Two years. Three years. Four years. Five years. Six years. Six years of chat logs. Six years of wire transfers. Six years of sweet words. Six years of “Honey” and “Wifey.” And me, his legal wife, in those six years, I was criticized for spending $50 on a new top. I opened the transfer records and began calculating, transaction by transaction. $1,500 x 12 months x 6 years = $108,000. Add the $40,000 car down payment. Add the down payment for the condo—I found the record—$100,000. Plus scattered gifts, red envelopes, bags, clothes, vacations… It took me two hours to total all the transfers. $300,000. Six years, $300,000. I sat on the sofa, staring at the number, my eyes aching with dryness. Last year, my mother was hospitalized and needed surgery. $8,000. I went to him for help. What did he say? “Your mother’s issues are yours to handle. Where am I going to find eight thousand dollars? The company’s cash flow is tight.” I begged him, on my knees. He sighed, “Fine, stop crying. I’ll see what I can do.” He finally gave me $5,000. And I was tearfully grateful, believing he was a good husband. $300,000. How many surgeries would that cover for my mother? The living room light was harsh. I closed my eyes, then opened them again. Then, I started taking screenshots. One by one. Chat logs. Transfer records. Voice messages. Photos. His selfies sent to her. Her selfies sent to him. Photos of them together. Pictures from a trip he told me was a “corporate retreat.” I spent another two hours compiling everything. When I was finished, I placed the phone back in his gym bag, precisely where he had hidden it. Then, I washed my face, checked Leo’s homework, and tucked him into bed. Lying in our bed, I stared at the ceiling. Daniel. We’ve been married for seven years. You’ve lied to me for six. I didn’t know what I was feeling in that moment. Anger? Heartbreak? Despair? All of the above. But more than anything, there was a strange, cold calm. It was as if someone had stabbed me, and while the blood poured out, I became perfectly lucid. The phone vibrated. It was Daniel’s text: “Wife, too much to drink at the dinner tonight. Staying out. Go to sleep early.” I stared at the message, the corner of my mouth twitching. Then, I opened his chat with the mistress and found today’s date. At the exact same time, he sent her: “Wifey, I’m home. Spending the night with you.” Home. His home was not here. It was with her. I put the phone down, closed my eyes, and waited for the morning. Daniel, you think I’m going to cry? I won’t. I’ve made my decision. 2. Daniel came back the next morning. He looked a little tired but was in a good mood and was carrying a bouquet. “Wife, these are for you.” I took the flowers and smiled. “Thank you.” “Where’s Leo?” “At daycare.” He nodded and walked toward the bedroom to change. I watched his retreating back, my voice flat. “Did you find your Samsung phone?” His step hitched. Just for a second. Then he turned around, his expression normal. “What Samsung phone?” “Leo said there was a phone in your gym bag.” “Oh, that. That’s a work phone the company gave me. Just for business.” He smiled easily. “Kids always rummaging through things. I’ve told him a thousand times.” “A company phone?” “Yeah, business needs. Two phones make things easier.” He said it so casually. I nodded. “I see.” He visibly relaxed and went into the bedroom. I stood in the doorway, looking at the bouquet in my hands. Lilies. My favorite. He actually remembered. But what good were a few flowers? What he gave her was a car, a condo, and six years of devotion. What he gave me was a $20 bouquet of lilies. I put the flowers in a vase and walked into the kitchen to start dinner. As I was chopping vegetables, I spoke, my voice loud in the quiet house. “Honey.” “Hmm?” He was watching sports in the living room. “Last year, when my mother was hospitalized, you said the company’s cash flow was tight and could only give me five thousand.” “…Yeah, what about it?” “Nothing.” I paused. “Just thinking about it.” The knife came down sharply on the cutting board, a clear, decisive thwack. “I did the math. The person on your… ‘business phone’—you’ve transferred them about three hundred thousand over the years.” Silence blanketed the living room. The sound of the TV was still there, but Daniel didn’t speak. “Three hundred thousand.” I repeated the number, still perfectly calm. “How many surgeries would that cover for my mother?” “What are you talking about?” His voice came from the living room, laced with sudden tension. I didn’t answer. I heard him get up, his footsteps approaching the kitchen. “Maya.” He stood in the kitchen doorway, his voice low and dangerous. “Did you go through my phone?” I looked up at him. His eyes held panic, annoyance, and a sliver of… guilt. “I did.” I said. “You—” “Seven years married, six years cheating.” I cut him off. “Daniel, do you have anything to say for yourself?” His face flushed a deep red. “You goddamn—” “Three hundred thousand.” I said the number again. “How many surgeries for your mother? You always claimed we were tight on money.” He froze. “You—” “You bought her a condo, a car, and transfer her fifteen hundred in allowance every month.” I listed each item calmly. “But you complained when I bought a fifty-dollar top.” “Maya!” he roared. “Why are you shouting?” I put the knife down and looked at him. “A guilty conscience?” His chest was heaving. “You, you let me explain—” “No need.” “That woman was harassing me! It wasn’t serious—” “Daniel.” I interrupted him again. “You called her ‘Wifey.’” His words caught in his throat. “You called her Wifey, and you called me Wife.” I smiled faintly. “How many wives do you have?” He opened his mouth, speechless. “You say it was nothing. What was the three hundred thousand for? Throwing money away?” “That was—that was—” “What was it? Say it.” He fell silent. I waited a few seconds, then turned back to chopping vegetables. “Nothing more to say, then. I know everything I need to know.” “Maya, what do you want?” “What do I want?” I didn’t look up. “I haven’t decided yet. But you can start thinking about what you want.” “What does that mean?” “Divorce.” I said the word with careless ease. He stared for a moment, then sneered. “Divorce? Dream on.” “Oh? You disagree?” “Maya, I’m telling you, you can have a divorce, but you aren’t getting anything from this marriage.” My chopping stopped again. “The condo is in my parents’ name. The car is in mine. Savings…” He smirked. “What are you going to take?” I turned and looked at him. His face was a mask of smug entitlement. “You can leave,” he articulated slowly, “but you aren’t taking anything with you. Except your son.” I looked at him, and then I smiled. “Daniel.” “What?” “You forgot one thing.” “What?” “Before we got married, when you were chasing me, you signed an agreement.” His color changed. “What agreement?” “You forgot?” I tilted my head. “It stipulated that if you committed adultery, you would voluntarily relinquish all claims to marital assets.” “That—that was—” “That was your signature, and your thumbprint.” His face went completely white. “I…” “Well?” I watched him. “Did you remember?” He opened his mouth, unable to speak a word. I turned back around, continuing to chop the vegetables. “Like I said, I haven’t decided yet. But you should start thinking about how you plan to handle that agreement.” The kitchen fell quiet. Only the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board. Clear. Forceful. 3. That night, Daniel didn’t sleep in the master bedroom. He took the guest room. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind a whirl. The agreement was a deliberate move. It was real. Before we married, he’d pursued me for two years, and I kept turning him down. Finally, I gave him a condition: sign a written fidelity agreement, guaranteeing loyalty after marriage, or forfeit all assets. He signed it. At the time, he’d been full of passionate promises that he’d only ever love me. I believed him. I filed the agreement away, hidden where he would never look. I thought I’d never need it. Now, I did. But the agreement alone wasn’t enough. I needed more evidence. The next morning, I took a personal day and went to Sophia’s law office. Sophia was my college roommate and became an attorney after graduation. She listened to my story, her expression hardening. “Jesus, this Daniel.” She swore. “Maya, what’s your plan?” “Divorce.” “Good. I’m with you.” “But I need solid evidence.” “You have the chat logs and transfer records, don’t you?” “Those are from his burner phone, just screenshots,” I explained. “I need the bank statements to prove that the three hundred thousand came out of our joint marital accounts.” “I can pull those for you.” Sophia nodded. “What else?” “Information on the mistress. I only know her WeChat name; I don’t know who she is or where she lives.” “That’s searchable.” “And…” I paused. “I need to know if the condo he bought her can be recovered.” Sophia pondered this. “If we can prove it was purchased with marital funds—joint savings—then we can certainly file a claim for recovery.” “Good.” “Maya.” Sophia looked at me closely. “You’re incredibly calm right now.” “If I wasn’t calm, what good would that do?” I gave a wry smile. “Cry?” “You’re allowed to cry.” “Would it change anything?” Sophia sighed and reached out, gripping my hand. “I’ll help you.” “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me. I’ve never liked Daniel anyway. A jerk needs to be taken down.” I nodded. Walking out of the law office, the sunshine was blinding. I stood on the street corner and took a deep breath. My phone rang. It was Daniel. “Where are you?” “Out.” “When are you coming home?” “Later.” “Maya, don’t make a scene. Come home and we can talk.” I didn’t reply. I hung up. He thought I was making a “scene.” He assumed I was just having a tantrum and would get over it in a couple of days. He had no idea I had started a campaign. Three days later, Sophia sent me the investigation results. The mistress’s name was Madison, Maddy, for short. Twenty-eight years old, a server at a high-end cocktail lounge. She met Daniel at a client dinner. Daniel had just been promoted to Sales Director, which meant more outings and more drinking. Maddy was a server at the high-end spot. Daniel noticed her immediately. That year, I was six months pregnant. I was home, nauseous and caring for my unborn child, while he was out flirting and sleeping with other women. I looked at the documents Sophia sent me, a heavy stone settling in my chest. But I didn’t shed a tear. I kept reading. In 2020, Daniel bought Maddy a Mini Cooper. $40,000 down, which he paid. In 2021, Daniel started looking for a condo for Maddy. In 2022, Daniel bought Maddy a small two-bedroom condo. The down payment was $100,000; it was a cash purchase. The deed was in Maddy’s name. But the purchase funds came directly from Daniel’s salary account. And that salary account was a joint marital asset. I organized all the information and saved it in an encrypted folder. Then, I started going through the bank statements Sophia got for me. Six years. 267 transfers. Aside from the fixed $1,500 monthly allowance, there were countless gifts, shopping sprees, vacations, and bonuses… I went through them, transaction by transaction, and the irony was suffocating. May 2019, Transfer $3,000, Note: Happy Birthday, Babe. The same day was my birthday. He treated me to dinner, $150 a person. February 2020, Transfer $8,000, Note: For a New Designer Bag. The same month, I asked about enrolling Leo in an early education class. Daniel said it was too expensive and unnecessary. July 2021, Transfer $15,000, Note: Maldives Trip for Us, Babe.

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The news about my high-powered lawyer wife, Sierra, throwing me a huge birthday gala was the hot topic of Crestwood. Everyone was talking about it. But the night before, a text message popped up on her phone: “Five years, and I’ve been waiting for you.” Sierra shoved me away, guilt flooding her face. She claimed the firm had an urgent, high-profile case, and the managing partner had specifically requested her. “Rhys, I am so sorry. The MP just called. I have to fly out tonight. I can’t be here for your birthday tomorrow.” Watching her leave without a second glance, I immediately activated the location-sharing app on my phone. I watched the tiny red dot move across the screen. I’d personally just taken over as the firm’s Managing Partner—I’d approved her vacation time myself. Why would I assign her an emergency case? I had to see who she was rushing to meet at midnight. 1 Sierra’s car location pinged the grand ballroom at the Crestwood Hotel. I sped over. From a distance, I could hear the pop of countless confetti cannons. As I walked closer, streamers drifted down, blurring the faces in the crowd. Two servers wheeled out a cake taller than a man, pushing it toward the head table. “Happy Birthday, darling! And happy fifth wedding anniversary!” My heart slammed against my ribs. That was Sierra’s voice! And she was calling the man next to her darling! Fifth wedding anniversary? But… wasn’t that with me? The confetti settled, and the moment I saw the man’s face, my breath hitched. Finn Donnelly! How could the son of my family’s former housekeeper be here? The congratulations and fawning started immediately. “I heard Mrs. Albright’s incredibly spoiled husband is none other than Mr. Blackwood, the eldest son of the Crestwood Blackwoods. Seeing him tonight, Mr. Blackwood is every bit as impressive as they say!” “It’s true. Mr. Blackwood and Mrs. Albright—the perfect childhood sweethearts. They are stunning together!” Since when did Finn Donnelly become the eldest son of my Blackwood family? I don’t have a brother! They were childhood acquaintances, sure. Finn’s mother had been the Blackwoods’ housekeeper, actually the Albrights’ housekeeper first. But after Sierra—then Yunxi—developed an infatuation with him, her parents fired his mother. My family, out of misguided kindness, took them in. I was soft-hearted enough to give Finn a job at the law firm. It was mostly menial office work, but I paid him a decent salary. Yet, I’d been away from Crestwood for just two weeks, and Finn had somehow transformed into the Blackwood Heir and Sierra’s husband! “And thanks to Mr. Blackwood’s connections, Albright & Associates is reeling in multi-million dollar deals!” “What a lucky woman, Mrs. Albright!” They shared a look of pure, saccharine happiness—the heroes and heroine of some corny romance novel, sweet enough to induce a diabetic coma. Just then, Finn gripped Sierra’s hand, his face flushed. “Sierra and I grew up together. We’ve been in love for twenty years!” “Sierra was just worried the media buzz would interfere with my private life, so we’ve kept our marriage quiet until now.” Sierra smiled, offering a silent confirmation. The guests nodded, murmuring, “Ah, that makes sense.” I laughed—a sharp, ugly sound. No wonder Sierra always kept me out of the spotlight. No wonder she hid our relationship even within the firm. It was all to give Finn the time to scrub his “housekeeper’s son” label and take my place! To solidify his identity as the Blackwood heir, he even stole my birthday! If she loved him so much, I’d grant this pathetic couple their wish. I’d file for divorce immediately. I walked closer, step by agonizing step. Sierra was nestled against Finn’s chest, chatting confidently. “Besides wanting to avoid harassment for Finn, the Blackwood family traditions don’t encourage the heir to seek public attention.” “I wasn’t aware the Blackwood family had that rule!” “Sierra Albright, when did you find time to acquire a second husband behind my back?” My voice boomed, slicing through the noisy room. The entire hall went silent. Sierra instantly pulled away from Finn, a guilty flicker crossing her eyes. Her face went from pale to blazing red. I strode forward, snatched the champagne flute from her hand, and flung the wine straight into her face. “What’s wrong? Did your ‘urgent business trip’ end with you in another man’s arms?” “Rhys Blackwood, what the hell is wrong with you?” Sierra wiped the wine off her face, trembling with rage. She was furious, yes, but the shifty look in her eyes betrayed her immense guilt. Before I could press her, the Chief Counsel from the rival firm, Crestwood Legal, jumped in, whipping up the crowd’s anger. “Security! What kind of lunatic did you let in here?” “This is a top-tier legal networking event. Who do you think you are, impersonating Mrs. Albright’s husband and defaming her?” “This is slander and intentional damage to a professional’s reputation! Apologize now!” The young lawyers at Albright & Associates quickly chimed in. “You came to the wrong place to throw a tantrum! We deal in law, and we have plenty of legal methods to bury you in lawsuits!” “Mrs. Albright is kind enough not to press charges, but we’re here to uphold justice!” I chuckled, looking at Sierra. “You want to take me to court, do you?” “Setting aside everything else, Mrs. Albright, cohabiting under the pretense of a marriage while being legally wed, that’s called bigamy, isn’t it? You, an expert, wouldn’t be unaware, would you?” “You just announced your ‘fifth wedding anniversary.’ That alone could land you two years in the federal penitentiary, sweetheart.” Finn’s eyes welled up instantly. He tugged at my wife’s arm, whining. “Rhys, please, don’t make trouble for Sierra. It’s all my fault…” Seeing Finn’s pitiful display, Sierra immediately flared up, shooting me a cold warning. “Rhys Blackwood, what is this nonsense about bigamy? Get out of here and go home!” That command—Go home—sent a wave of curiosity through the guests. They began re-examining me with a probing gaze. I scoffed. “Afraid your fake husband can’t handle the truth?” “Rhys! I know your mother worked for Sierra’s family and that you grew up around her, but this is too much!” Finn’s voice was pitched high, his indignation ringing false. “I know you like Sierra, but we’re having a baby! Please, stop trying to destroy my family!” “I took pity on you and gave you a job at the firm, and this is how you repay my kindness?” I was stunned. Were these not my lines? Finn Donnelly had no shame! Sierra, sensing the doubt in the crowd’s eyes, quickly provided a perfectly reasonable explanation. “I’ve always kept Rhys at arm’s length. I never imagined he’d be so shameless as to make a scene like this. I apologize for this embarrassment.” “Rhys Blackwood, if you continue, don’t blame me when I fire you and have you escorted off Albright property!” Only then did the guests drop their guard, whispering amongst themselves. “Oh, he was the housekeeper’s kid! That explains why she told him to ‘go home.’” “He looks presentable, but he’s just a desperate gold-digger trying to climb the social ladder! Spreading rumors about Mrs. Albright committing bigamy—he’s insane.” “Men like that will do anything to claw their way to the top. They’d sell their soul, even disown their own parents.” I watched Finn, a smug grin plastered on his face, which started to stiffen under the guests’ insults. He was certainly interesting to keep smiling while being publicly shamed. I nodded, rolling my eyes at Finn. “You’re right. Some men will disown their own mother just to leech off someone else’s success.” “Isn’t that right, Finn Donnelly?” “How did you beg me when the Albrights kicked you out after you tried to hook up with Sierra? You came crawling to me for a place to stay and a job. Is this how you repay me? By marrying my wife and getting her pregnant?” Finn’s face was beet red. Before I could expose more of his past, someone grabbed me from behind and shoved me. I fell, hitting my head on a table corner. A warm, sticky liquid trickled down my temple, and my vision blurred from the pain. When I blinked, a heavily made-up, brassy woman stood over me, slamming a piece of the cake onto my face. “Puh! What rubbish! Finn is obviously a high-society gentleman! You, with your poor, common background, how dare you lust after Mrs. Albright?” Finn smirked, a look of triumph in his eyes. “Exactly! I’m a Harvard Law J.D. who just closed three multi-million dollar deals. If a disgruntled former assistant like you could successfully impersonate me, my degree would be worthless.” Harvard Law J.D. He was stealing my entire professional life! “That’s right! The support staff should stick to their support tasks. Don’t try to seduce the boss.” “Finn, you can’t keep a crazy man like this around. Today he’s impersonating you, who knows what he’ll do tomorrow!” “If he’s so desperate for women, he should quit the firm and go sell himself on the street.” I looked at Sierra. Her face was cold, impassive, and she idly swirled the wine in her glass. “Sierra Albright, do you remember what you said when you were pursuing me? You said you’d love me forever.” “Now you just watch them humiliate me?” Sierra’s expression shifted, hardening into something cold and utterly foreign. “If you hadn’t insisted on making this scene, we wouldn’t be in this situation now.” Finn seized the opportunity. “Sierra told me you were constantly bothering and harassing her. She only tolerated you because your mother worked for her family for so many years.” “But this slander—accusing her of bigamy—is crossing a line!” “I’m announcing this now: Rhys Blackwood is terminated. Albright & Associates will not harbor an ungrateful snake!” Ungrateful snake? I stared at Sierra. “Are you sure Finn is the one who closed those accounts?” “Who opened the client pipeline that built Albright & Associates? Who stayed up all night drafting the briefs? Who landed those ten seven-figure deals that solidified this firm’s reputation?” “Sierra, do you dare tell everyone the truth?” A flicker of fear and hesitation crossed her face. Then, Finn interjected smoothly. “To give you some experience, we did let you handle the initial contacts. But every single one of those cases was a complete mess. Sierra and I had to step in and save them in the end.” Sierra seemed to genuinely believe this fabricated narrative. Her expression turned icy. “Rhys Blackwood, I indulged you too much. Now you’re trying to steal Finn’s credit!” Hearing Sierra’s words, the contempt in the crowd’s eyes intensified. “A mere admin who poured coffee and printed documents is trying to steal credit from Mr. Blackwood? He thinks a bug can fly to the heavens!” Sierra took Finn’s hand. “If you resign immediately and hand over the contact information for Mr. Theodore Blackwood—the founder of Blackwood Group—we won’t press charges for your slander.” My blood ran cold. My wife of five years was using my own birthday party to fleece me? They were after the nearly two million dollars in retainer fees from the three massive Blackwood Group cases I’d brought in! She orchestrated this entire farce to please her mistress and steal my identity! I shook my head, laughing softly. Sierra had made a critical mistake. She’d forgotten that the “Blackwood Group” they were talking about… was my family. And I—Rhys Blackwood—was the eldest son. It was time for the real Blackwood heir to clean house. I smiled. “You’ll have the number right away.” “But do you two genuinely believe a pair of fakes like you could ever close a deal with the Patriarch of the Blackwood Group?” “Sierra, you can burn the bridge behind you, but ungrateful snakes never end well.” “I’m sending the divorce papers to your personal email in the morning.” “Rhys Blackwood, have you gone completely insane? You’re addicted to playing the role of Mrs. Albright’s husband and the Blackwood Heir?” “What divorce? Finn has always been my husband!” Sierra clenched her jaw, trembling. She was trapped in the lie and had no choice but to double down. I folded my arms, watching the unfolding train wreck. A few Albright & Associates people were starting to waver, looking at me with new respect. Their whispers were loud enough to hear in the unnatural silence. “Rhys is a Blackwood, too. Maybe Finn is the real interloper.” “I hear the real Blackwood Heir is incredibly low-key. Finn, with all the logos, is a little too much, isn’t he?” Finn’s smile vanished, replaced by a furious glare. “Rhys Blackwood, I have a Harvard Law J.D.! You barely finished high school! How dare you make these ridiculous claims!?” “I’ll call Mr. Blackwood right now. Let me show you how a professional closes a multi-million dollar deal!” Seeing his renewed confidence, the hangers-on paused, waiting to see who was telling the truth. “Rhys Blackwood, you’re so manipulative! You know the Patriarch rarely takes unscheduled calls, and you’re goading Finn into calling him in front of everyone!” “No wonder we were almost fooled. What a dirty trick!” “Since you claim you closed those multi-million dollar deals, show us the proof.” “Tell me, which one of those case files has your name listed as the client attorney?” My heart sank. That’s why. That’s why Sierra always coaxed me into putting the cases under her name, claiming it was to build the firm’s prestige. It was all for this moment. To steal my entire life and hand it to Finn Donnelly! My Blackwood heir status, my marriage, my professional achievements—everything I built, she stole. I laughed a self-deprecating laugh. How blind could I have been to love this trash for five years? Seeing me speechless, the entire room of legal sycophants erupted. “He talked a big game, but he has no evidence! What a fraud! Get him out of here!” “Call security! Get this lying dog out! He’s disgusting!” A group of four middle-aged women exchanged salacious glances and started toward me. “No need for security. We’ll drag him out and teach him a lesson. He’ll learn to keep his mouth shut.” The naked lust in their eyes made my skin crawl. Sierra frowned slightly, showing a brief moment of hesitation. “We’re just teaching him a lesson so he remembers it. We’re all Crestwood professionals. Nobody will go too far.” Hearing that, Sierra seemed reassured, turning away from me. A portly woman with a heavy jaw grabbed my wrist, her eyes lingering on my chest. I yelled, using all my strength. “Let go of me!” “I am Rhys Blackwood, grandson of Theodore Blackwood! Touch me again, and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life!” Everyone froze for a split second, then burst into uncontrollable laughter. “I’m dying! The little assistant is getting carried away with his role-playing!” “I have to admit, when he yells, he does have a bit of the high-and-mighty heir attitude!” The woman yanked me toward the exit. Two other older women took advantage of the situation, reaching out to grope me. I was held fast by four or five strong women. “Fine, fine, you can be the billionaire’s grandson. The ladies will have a little fun with you.” I looked at Sierra, yelling. “Sierra Albright!” “Stop them now! My family helped build the Albright name. We can erase it overnight!” Sierra finally looked back at me, her eyes completely devoid of emotion. She offered a flat, distant, “Oh.” “Rhys Blackwood, blame your bad luck. You were born a servant’s son. Stop dreaming of being my husband and replacing Finn.” Encouraged by her words, the women grew bolder. One of them slipped her hand down my collar, groping me freely. “Mr. Theodore Blackwood, the Patriarch of the Blackwood Group, has arrived!”

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I was the leader of the all-female Raven Team, and we were pinned down, trapped in an encirclement during a high-risk humanitarian mission overseas. I urgently radioed the Operations Room, requesting immediate extraction. The order that came back—from the Commander, who also happened to be my ex-husband—was a punch to the gut: “Hold your position. Fight to the last man.” My voice was raw with desperation in the comms unit. “We’re being overrun! If we don’t pull back now, the whole team will be wiped out!” His reply was chillingly detached. “Didn’t you leave me standing alone at the altar three years ago, without so much as a backward glance, running off to that foreign hellhole?” “Now you get to find out if the grass you ran to was truly greener, or just a blood-soaked grave.” “Mark my words, Nova. Any retreat without my explicit order will be treated as treason.” I clenched my fists, a spasm of absolute despair, and directed my team to hold the line in a storm of gunfire. Every second felt like a year. It was an eternity before his voice returned. “I’ve seen enough. You are cleared for extraction.” A sudden, dizzying wave of relief washed over me, only to be immediately replaced by a plunge into a freezing black void as he delivered his next sentence: “Before you evacuate, Captain Reed, you will kneel before every civilian you rescued and publicly confess to your betrayal. One hundred loud, ringing kowtows. Not one less.” 1 “Ops, I require a confirmation of the last command!” The artillery was deafening, shrapnel screamed past my helmet. I was practically shouting into the microphone, my voice lost in the continuous roar of explosions. Behind me, the cries of the hundred-plus rescued civilians twisted around my heart like a garrote. Lexi, my second-in-command, a sharp young woman in her early twenties, pressed close, wiping blood and grime from her face. Her voice was a strained whisper of fear. “Captain, we’re down to the last belt for the heavy machine gun, less than thirty rounds per person for the rifles. We won’t survive the next wave…” It was then that the cold, clinical voice of Elias Barrett cut through the encrypted channel. “Command confirmed, Captain. Hold the position until the last man falls. This is the Commander’s final order.” Commander… The title felt like a bullet through my chest. Sitting in that secure, underground center thousands of miles away, in the highest seat of authority, was the man I had abandoned at the altar. Now, he watched us bleed out via satellite feed. There was no tremor of feeling in his voice. “Nova, what… what is he doing? Why?” Lexi’s face was ashen. “The hostages are secure. We should be getting the highest level of extraction support! Why is he leaving us to die…?” I didn’t answer. My gaze was locked on the horizon where the enemy vehicle lights were tearing open the night—a black tide pressing in. I gripped the comms, the stench of gunpowder and desperation in my hoarse voice. “Elias Barrett, I repeat. Civilians secured, we are nearly out of ammunition. Requesting immediate withdrawal!” Two seconds of dead silence, followed by a soft sigh—one that carried a faint, almost amused, note. “Request?” “Did you listen when I grabbed your sleeve and begged you to stay at our wedding five years ago? You walked away without looking back, Nova. Not even a single glance.” I slammed my fist into the scorched earth in front of me, the sharp pain in my knuckles barely registering beneath the boiling rage. This was not the time for settling old scores. The lives of my team, and the hundred-thirty-one terrified faces behind us, depended on my next move. “Elias, you need to be professional!” Every word was forced out through gritted teeth. “You are the Commander of this operation, not the man settling a personal vendetta! Do you not see the critical danger we’re in?!” “Professional?” His cold, quiet laugh resonated in the earpiece—a sound that made my marrow freeze. “I am perfectly professional, Captain Reed. I’m simply enjoying this foreign moon with you. See for yourself. What did this place, the one you sacrificed everything to run to, give you in return?” “If we don’t retreat, we’re all going to die!” My eyes were bloodshot. I screamed the words. “And so what if you do?” His voice was flat, cold as permafrost. “You threw away three years of our life together to come here. I imagine paying with your own life now… is something you’re perfectly willing to do.” The last thread of my control snapped. “Elias Barrett! You are a psycho!!” Tearing the radio from my ear, I smashed the handset into the mud. Lexi lunged forward, grabbing my arm, her voice tight with a suppressed sob. “Nova! Calm down! Please, Captain, calm down!” I took a deep, ragged breath, snatched the mud-caked radio, and resumed command. “All teams, report on ammo and casualty status.” “Team Alpha, contract to Bunker Two. Team Beta, set the last of the claymores on the southeast breach. Snipers, prioritize the enemy MGs and RPGs.” My team continued its desperate, disciplined resistance. But a support-less team trying to hold off an overwhelming assault was futile. Our ammunition was depleting fast. Every trigger pull was a grain of sand dropping faster in an hourglass. A medic’s choked voice broke into the internal channel. “Captain, the civilians… they’re breaking down. They’re asking if we’ve been abandoned. If we’re ever going to get out of here?” I glanced down at the two remaining magazines on my belt, my throat dry. I swallowed hard and replied hoarsely. “Tell them… we have not abandoned them. We will take them home. We just need to hold on a little longer.” Inhaling the mix of smoke and copper, I pressed the button for the encrypted comms channel again. This time, all fury was gone, replaced by a deep, weary submission—a sound I barely recognized. “Commander Barrett,” I used his rank. “I have never… begged anyone in my life.” “Please, consider this a plea. Do whatever you want to me. I’ll accept it. But let these one hundred-plus innocent lives survive.” The channel went dead silent, only the faint static hiss and the sound of his suppressed breathing. A ridiculous, fleeting thought crossed my mind—had I finally broken through? Had he hesitated? 2 Just as that fragile hope flickered to life, his voice returned. “Fine.” The word caused my heart to leap. Then, his tone shifted, the sound of a man relishing his madness. “You can withdraw your people. But before I give the official command, Captain Reed, you must go to all those you saved and kneel.” “You will confess, to their faces, how you betrayed and cheated on your husband.” “And then, you will perform one hundred kowtows. Every single one has to ring. I need to hear the impact.” “Do that, and I will be merciful and allow your extraction. What do you say?” “He’s murdering us! He’s using them to kill you!” Lexi screamed in rage beside me. “Nova! He never planned on letting us live! He’s forcing you to…” I raised a hand, stopping her. I understood perfectly. Elias knew me too well. He knew that honor and dignity were my last sacred boundaries. His goal was to utterly dismantle me, to reduce everything I fought for—in front of my team, the people I protected, and any possible recording—to dust. Five years ago, in front of all our loved ones, I had shattered his dignity and his dreams. Now, he intended to collect that debt a hundredfold, at the precipice of death. “Nova Reed, have you decided?” Elias’s voice cut in again. “Let me guess… how much ammo do you have left? Three minutes? Or will it be over in the next second?” The final wall of my sanity crumbled. I roared into the radio: “Elias Barrett! Do you know what you are doing?! This is murder! A court-martial is waiting for you!” The response was a brief, dismissive chuckle. “Yes. But only if someone manages to survive to testify against me.” A freezing clarity gripped my heart. I stood there, rooted, finally understanding his unspoken assurance. He was absolutely certain we wouldn’t walk out of this alive. “Nova, don’t listen! We can contact the High Command directly, bypass him!” Lexi pleaded. I shook my head slowly, an unbearable weariness settling over me. “It won’t work. This mission is classified. He’s the direct Commander. Our plea won’t get through unless a top-level override is issued.” “The only passable route for us to slow them down is here. If we retreat without air support, we become targets in the open desert.” “He calculated every move.” Lexi’s voice was a choked sob of despair. “So… there’s no other way? We just have to…” I pulled the last crumpled cigarette from my pocket and lit it with a shaky hand, the faint glow flickering in the cold night, much like the memory of that airport five years ago. I’d lit a similar cigarette then, too. With my gravely ill mother unconscious on a stretcher, I had turned from his tear-streaked face. “Nova, if you walk away now, I’ll never forgive you!” I thought the ashes of our three years together were the full price of that choice. I never imagined his five years of simmering hatred would be levied like this, staking the lives of a hundred strangers against me. “Captain! A civilian was hit in the arm by shrapnel, bleeding badly! We need to evacuate them immediately!” The medic’s tearful voice tore through the tense silence. It was the final straw. All calculation ceased. I took a deep drag on the cigarette, the last light in my eyes extinguished. “Lexi.” “Take over the command. Hold for three minutes. I’ll get us home.” Lexi grabbed my arm, her fingers digging through my armor plate. “Captain, no…” “That’s an order.” I shook her off, not looking back. Under the stunned, anguished, disbelieving stares of my team, I turned and walked, step by slow step, toward the terrified civilians huddled in the shadow of the bunker. 3 In the comms, Elias’s voice was suddenly there, trembling faintly with excitement. “Good.” “Start. Captain Reed. I’ve been looking forward to this.” I silently switched the radio to public broadcast volume. I knew what was coming. The civilians would be bewildered, then disgusted. My teammates would be shocked and humiliated. My name would be ruined, and the dignity I cherished would be annihilated by my own hands, in the full light of the war-torn landscape. But none of it mattered anymore. Any personal honor was dust compared to one hundred-thirty-one lives. I stood before the crowd, facing the bewildered, fear-filled, dependent faces. The noise and crying subsided. All eyes, confused, were fixed on me. “Fellow citizens,” my voice, amplified through the comms, was clear and steady. “I am the mission commander, Nova Reed.” After a brief pause, I spoke the words that would end my life as I knew it. “Five years ago, I betrayed my husband.” “At our wedding, in front of all our family and friends, I abandoned him, unilaterally breaking our vows and leaving.” “This was all my fault. I formally apologize for my actions.” The second the words were out, the silence broke into gasps and an audible wave of confusion and outrage. I didn’t look up. I didn’t look at a single face. I slowly, deliberately, bent my knees. Thud. The first kowtow. My forehead slammed against the hard, cold earth, the dull sound briefly louder than the distant cannon fire. Thud. The second. Dust mingled with the pain searing my brow bone. Thud. The third, the fourth, the fifth… My movements became faster, more mechanical, as if my body was no longer mine, but simply executing a brutal, cold program. The murmuring faded into silence. Perhaps they were too stunned by the desperate, self-destructive spectacle, or maybe they simply couldn’t grasp the meaning behind this madness. The only sounds were the distant artillery, the whine of incoming bullets, and the monotonous, sickening thudding of my head hitting the ground. Warm blood streamed from my forehead, blurring my vision and running into the corners of my eyes, tasting like rust. I didn’t stop. Thirty, forty, fifty… The world faded to muted color and sound, leaving only the bone-jarring impact that traveled through my skull, and the cold, numb heart in my chest. A century passed. Or maybe just a few moments. Finally, Elias’s voice returned to the comms. It was a voice of utter, languid satisfaction, with a strange, fleeting softness. “That’s enough.” “Considering your sincerity… I grant you permission to withdraw.” 4 A faint tapping of a keyboard could be heard through the channel. “Rendezvous will be in Sector E-7. Extraction route… take Route Three.” Route Three. The moment she heard the extraction order, Lexi was nearly in tears of relief. “We’re saved!” But I cut her off, my voice hoarse and cold. “Route Three is the emergency plan for ‘Catastrophic Failure’ or ‘Total Exposure.’” “That route is completely open ground, exposed for its entire length. Taking one hundred-plus slow-moving civilians down that route… is sending everyone to a firing squad in an open field.” I grabbed the comms, roaring with the last of my strength. “Elias Barrett! This isn’t an extraction route! This is a slaughter route! What is your purpose?!” “My purpose?” He chuckled, his tone light, as if discussing the weather. “The order and the route have been issued. Captain Reed, you are the legendary Raven Lead. Surely, getting a few people out of open ground is a basic skill? Whether you can bring them home… well, that’s your problem now.” He paused, then delivered the final, devastating line. “After all, you weren’t so concerned about the route when you left me alone five years ago.” Lexi was shaking with impotent fury. We faced two dead ends: bleed out on the position, or walk into the naked death trap of Route Three. “Captain, what… what do we do?” Lexi’s voice was strained to the breaking point. I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I reached into the deepest pocket of my gear and pulled out the small, black satellite terminal used for absolute emergencies. My fingers flew across the cold keys, typing in a sequence of scarlet-lit code: Confirm, Send. Lexi saw the code flash on the screen and her face went white, her voice shattering. “That… that’s Raven Protocol 3-1-3… the highest level, All-Hands-Lost Pre-Code…” “Yes.” My voice was unnaturally calm. I tossed the terminal onto the ground, spun around, and faced the terrified, bewildered civilians and my bloodied, yet still standing, teammates. I drew a deep breath, forcing my voice to cut through the roar of the artillery. “Fellow citizens! Hear me!” “The statement I was forced to make was false and coerced!” “My ex-husband, Commander Elias Barrett, has abused his authority, maliciously vetoed all standard extraction plans, cut off all our support, and forced us onto a lethal retreat route!” “I have just sent the Raven Team’s Final Annihilation Code to High Command. This is our last report before we are wiped out!” “I, Nova Reed, and my team, will use our bodies as your final shield, drawing all fire, to rip open a path to safety!” “If none of us survive, remember his name.” “Elias Barrett.” “He is responsible for the deaths of us all.” The final charge signal was sounded. “All hands!” “Prepare to charge! Open the path for our people!”

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The tenth time I found him in bed with another woman, Dean Miller’s reaction wasn’t as explosive as it used to be. He casually glanced at his expensive watch, then gently draped the silk robe over the girl huddled next to him. “Didn’t you say your prenatal appointment was this afternoon? Why the early return?” When I didn’t answer, he smoothed the girl’s hair and subtly positioned himself between us. “She’s young. Whatever the issue is, you take it up with me.” He was expecting the usual performance. The screaming, the hysteria, the raw fury. But what he didn’t know was that the ten-year contract was up. I was finally free to leave him. 1 The wedding photo on the nightstand now bore two distinct handprints—one covering my face, one covering Dean’s. It didn’t take much imagination to picture the scene that had just unfolded. I took a deep breath, turning to face Dean. “We had an agreement. You wouldn’t bring them back to the house.” I paused. “Do you even remember what day it is?” Dean gave a dismissive, casual laugh. He lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke directly into my face. “Too much to drink last night, Ellie. How could I keep track of every little thing?” The girl, startled, fumbled with her clothes, watching me with wide, terrified eyes. “Mrs. Miller, I swear I didn’t mean to. It was just last night…” Seeing her panic, I stepped forward and calmly zipped up the back of her dress. “It’s fine. You can go.” I gave her a look of utter indifference. “I know exactly who Dean Miller is.” It wasn’t the first time, not even close. Drunk, stressed, bored, celebrating a win—everything was an excuse for him. As for this particular girl? She wasn’t even mistress number eighteen. Why waste my energy? She fled in terror. I called Mrs. Albright to clean up the room. The sight of the messy sheets, the scattered, empty condom wrappers… it was nauseating. I covered my mouth and nose, spraying the air with a bottle of antiseptic. Dean wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, nuzzling the top of his head into my shoulder. “My good wife. When did you become so domesticated?” He sounded amused, content. “Are you worried I won’t come home, or have you finally mastered the art of being the perfect society wife?” He squeezed my cheek, then sighed contentedly. “This is much better. Just stay agreeable, and I promise, no one will ever take your place as Mrs. Miller.” He expertly fished a small velvet box out of a pile of other gifts and clipped a pair of diamond earrings onto my lobes. “A reward for your silence. Come on, don’t be mad. I know it’s our tenth anniversary. Wipe those tears. I’m taking you out to celebrate.” He spoke with such easy flippancy. He had no idea that over the last ten years, my tears had long since run dry. I pulled away from his touch and presented the document I’d prepared long ago. The divorce papers. “Dean Miller, we’re getting a divorce.” He froze for a beat, then laughed harder than before. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ellie. You know we can’t divorce.” He grabbed my face, his hand tracing a path down my side, finally resting over my lower abdomen. “Go pack a bag. I’m taking you to your prenatal appointment. Don’t cause trouble for yourself.” A decade ago, to be with Dean, I cut ties with my family. My father, the Commodore of Aethelgard, had banished me, forbidding me from ever returning. To punish my willfulness, he used his considerable influence to bind us together. No separation. No break-up. No divorce. We were to be chained to each other, for better or worse, for life. Dean had knelt then, swearing he’d spend his life loving me, ensuring I’d never regret my choice. Yet, by our second anniversary, he had betrayed our vows. He stood there, arm around his first mistress, staring me down. “Yes, I cheated. What are you going to do about it? Eleanor Kane, you’re an outcast. For the rest of your life, you are tied to me!” I’d called my family, sobbing, admitting my mistake. My father hung up coldly; my mother merely stood by. They told me I’d chosen my path and must walk it, crying or not. Knowing I couldn’t leave, Dean became bolder, more flagrant. The affairs were constant, his scandals front-page news. Now, he was bringing women right into the house. But he never knew that before I left Aethelgard, my father and I had made a pact: a ten-year wager. We gambled on how long my ‘great love’ could last. If I won, my father would fully support our marriage and Dean’s career. If I lost, I was to return and accept a pre-arranged strategic marriage. Because of Dean, this marriage, this wager, I had lost everything. As Dean drove, I quietly dialed that familiar, distant number. “Dad, I lost.” “A debt paid. I’ll be back in three days for the wedding.” 2 My father, a man who never lost a high-stakes bet, showed no surprise at the expected outcome. He simply offered a low grunt of acknowledgment and gave me simple instructions. “Ellie, you are my firstborn. This empire is yours to inherit. What’s done is done. I won’t debate your past, but remember this: Don’t bring unneeded baggage, and don’t leave the unearned assets behind.” The “unneeded baggage” was the child in my womb. The “unearned assets” was the business empire I had built for Dean. The ten years of pain were my lesson, the price of my tuition. “I understand, Dad.” As soon as I hung up, Dean’s horn blared from below. I slid into the passenger seat, the one that smelled of another woman’s perfume. The car ride was silent. He pretended not to notice the cold distance on my face. I pretended not to notice the cheap, cloying scent of the fragrance. When we pulled up to the clinic, Dean instinctively reached out to help me. His sleeve rode up, revealing a long, jagged scar on his forearm. A wave of nostalgia hit me. To be with me, Dean had once endured a brutal beating from my father’s enforcers, nearly dying. The man who once loved me enough to risk his life… how had he become this? Before I could dwell on it, a woman latched onto Dean’s arm. “Dean, baby, it’s been too long since you stopped by.” Talia Reed. The most favored of his mistresses, and the one who had stayed the longest. “Did the old war horse finally throw a fit, or did your new toy fail to satisfy?” she purred, pressing her chest against him. Dean was all smiles. He ignored me completely and conjured a dazzling ruby necklace from a tiny box to appease Talia. “What kind of talk is that? I’d forget everyone before I forgot about my little treasure.” He kissed her. “I flew this piece in from Aethelgard specifically because it matches your skin tone.” He patted her rear affectionately. “Alright, keep yourself busy for a bit. I need to take my wife to her appointment. I’ll come back and take care of you once I’m done.” Watching him, I almost laughed aloud. The man who crawled out of the gutter was nothing if not efficient. A single jewelry suite, disassembled and distributed among his women. The cheap earrings in my ears burned. I snatched them off and dropped them into a nearby waste bin. As I turned, I caught the hushed voices of two passersby. They were wondering about the nature of our three-way encounter. One leaned in to listen, but her friend pulled her back. “Are you insane? Didn’t you see the woman with him? That’s… the Commodore’s daughter.” The Commodore’s daughter. It had been years since I heard that title. Talia, however, had heard it. She sneered, looking me up and down with utter contempt. “The Commodore’s daughter? Please. She’s just a wash-out, kicked out of her own home, clinging to Dean’s coattails like a useless parasite.” Her voice rose, clearly meant for me. “A dried-up old trophy wife who only matters because she might be carrying his child. What’s there to be afraid of? I despise these pathetic, leeching women!” A parasite. Then what was Dean, who built his empire using my name? What was Talia, who lived off Dean’s money? When did these two connect? Was it when I had my first miscarriage? Was it when I was drinking myself sick to close Dean’s first big deal? Or was it the time I shielded him from an attack and was left comatose? It was too long ago to remember. I only recalled that Dean had been having a torrid affair with this soft, pretty nurse during my hospital stay. I had lain in the sterile white bed, pale and alone. Talia had been draped over a bed, flushed and passionate, with my husband wrapped around her. She was still this arrogant, which spoke volumes about how much Dean spoiled her. No matter. Once I was gone, they could be together openly. My only task now was to eliminate the last piece of baggage. 3 Ignoring the couple’s open affection, I walked straight into the surgery center. Dr. Lee had just heard the news of my pregnancy. Before he could offer his congratulations, I handed him the reports. “I want an abortion.” Dr. Lee was stunned. He looked over the documents, his face growing somber. “Mrs. Miller, are you absolutely sure? The baby looks perfectly healthy. You’ve been trying to conceive for so many years…” My first miscarriage was when I was twenty. We had just arrived in Ironwood City, broke and living in a cramped basement apartment. I, accustomed to Aethelgard’s mild climate, couldn’t handle the brutal winter. I fainted delivering Dean a meal, and when I woke up, the child was gone. My body was damaged. We were too poor to do anything but survive and hustle. By the time our business found its footing, I was too busy catching him cheating and fighting off mistresses. The time simply slipped away. In the beginning, when Dean was destitute, he knelt by my bedside. “Ellie, I swear I will make something of myself and repay you for all this suffering.” Later, after he had found success, he held his mistress and looked at me with cold eyes. “Ellie, I know what you’ve done for me. I promise I won’t let any woman replace you, and I certainly won’t let them bear my child before you do. Everything I have will go to our flesh and blood.” Now… I looked out the window at the pair tightly locked in each other’s arms. I offered a bitter, self-pitying smile. “Take it out. I’m going back to Aethelgard soon. A baby would be inconvenient.” I added, my voice hardening, “Besides, Dean drinks, smokes, and has a completely chaotic private life. A child born into that situation could never be healthy.” My father had started his empire with my mother’s backing, only to bring home a string of mistresses once he was successful. It was why I desperately craved true, honest love. But the first time I caught Dean cheating, he showed no remorse. Instead, he lashed out, indignant. “Eleanor Kane, what is wrong with you? Your own father has a dozen women. What’s wrong with me having a bit of fun? Think about how your mother handled it! You grew up in that world. Why haven’t you learned how to be a society wife yet?” He weaponized my deepest insecurities to wound me. In that moment, I knew. Our love was dead. But because of that ten-year pact, I couldn’t leave. I could only watch as he trampled on my dignity and gutted my emotions. The wedding I’d fought for became my prison. The profound love I’d cherished became his weapon. I’d paid the ultimate price for love and family. I refused to let my child repeat my fate. I would end this irreparable marriage myself. When I opened my eyes, the procedure was finished. The child I had waited years for, along with our relationship, had been reduced to a pool of blood, washed down the drain. Looking out at the city slowly being swallowed by the dusk, I couldn’t help but wonder. Why did Dean and I end up this way? Was it Talia? Or was it… that incident? 4 It didn’t matter. Regardless of the reason, the betrayal and the cruelty were undeniable facts. I called a cab to return to the penthouse and pack my things. While waiting, I saw Dean at the crosswalk. He was holding Talia’s hand, strolling the busy street like a pair of giddy teenagers. Talia pecked him on the cheek. “I had my check-up today, too. The baby is perfectly healthy. The doctor said it’s a boy. Five more months and you’ll be a father!” Dean smiled, peeling off his expensive coat and wrapping it around her. “Silly girl, you’re pregnant, you need to take care of yourself.” He kissed her. “I bought a villa down south for us. Move in with me. Ironwood City winters are too cold, and I don’t want you to get sick.” He continued, talking endlessly about the do’s and don’ts of pregnancy, post-partum care, and how he would do everything to protect this child. His words, mixed with the chilling winter air, slowly sliced through my heart. Finally, Dean took her hand and fastened the simple, silver “Peace Locket”—the one I had begged for at the temple after our first loss—around her neck. “I’ve already picked a name for our son. Pax,” he said, the name sounding foreign on his tongue. “Pax. Peace and fullness. A perfect life.” Pax… Pax… That was the name I’d chosen for our first child. My lifetime of pain. Dean had gotten that locket with me, hoping it would help us move on, a symbol that our love was real. Now, he was giving the name to another woman’s illegitimate child, using my memory and my sacrifice to pay off his mistress. How absurd. How utterly tragic. I took a deep breath, trying to appear unaffected. But Talia spotted me immediately. “Dean, baby, your warden is here to check up on you again.” She fiddled with the locket, her gaze mocking. “Tell some people to go home. You think your worthless, dead little embryo is even in the same league as the baby in my belly?” “Instead of crying here, why don’t you go home and focus on your own pregnancy? You’re old. Even if you managed to get pregnant again, there’s no guarantee it will stick. Without that child, Dean won’t look at you twice!” She was trying to provoke me, hoping I would lose control, maybe even suffer another miscarriage. But she didn’t know. The child was gone. Dean’s love was irrelevant. By the time the sun rose, I would be on a flight out of Ironwood City. Dean and I would be returned to our original trajectories. He would go back to being a penniless opportunist. I took one last look at Dean, utterly devoid of affection. “Dean Miller, you will regret this.” I told him clearly. “Because you’ve forgotten who was responsible for everything you own.” Dean started to say something, but Talia pulled him back. He watched me, but in the end, he didn’t follow. The moonlight poured down, a sheet of cold silver. I dragged my exhausted body to the port. In those final, quiet hours, I paid Mrs. Albright, instructing her to dispose of all our shared belongings. Then, I sat alone, waiting for dawn. At sunrise, a private jet landed directly in front of me. “Miss Kane. I’m here to take you home.” The plane soared above the city, condensing all my past sorrow into thin air. From this day forward, Dean Miller and I would be separated by a vast ocean, never to meet again. … Dean Miller bolted upright from a nightmare. He remembered the pained, mournful look in my eyes last night and felt a sudden unease. He reached for his phone to call, but a headline stopped him cold— AETHELGARD SHIPPING HEIRESS WEDS FINANCIAL TITAN: MASSIVE CAPITAL PULLBACK THREATENS MILLER GROUP

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It was my birthday when the post popped up in my feed. What does it truly mean to be loved and elevated? Someone in the comments offered a reply. I can answer that. My admirer got close to me by becoming my best friend’s boyfriend. When we were in school, I needed money for a designer bag. As the class president, he secretly pulled my best friend’s scholarship application and replaced it with mine. I got it, and that silly girl thought there was something wrong with her own application. Later, when my best friend’s acceptance for graduate school was posted, I whispered one word of dissatisfaction. He reported her directly, and she ended up having to test two more times to get in. The blatant pride in her words, the smugness of being the favored one, instantly drew a tidal wave of outrage. The post blew up. Instead of feeling shame, she doubled down, arrogantly showing off a picture of a pave-set diamond ring. You can glare all you want. It won’t matter. Today is my best friend’s birthday. He gave me this diamond ring, and she got my hand-me-down. In fact, all I have to do is say the word, and he’ll even postpone her birthday celebration. My phone vibrated violently. A text from my boyfriend, Liam Cole. Babe, a work emergency came up last minute. I’m cashing in a Late Pass. Your present is on the bedside table. Hope you love it. I opened the box. Inside, resting on the velvet cushion, was a plain silver band. A simple, elegant circle. On an impulse I couldn’t explain, I took a picture and ran a reverse image search. The first result was a jewelry registry page. Promotional Gift: Plain Silver Band. The search also pulled up a listing for the identical diamond ring from the social media post. Scholarship. Grad school. Birthday. Diamond. Silver Band. It hit me with a sickening, dizzying clarity. I was the “stupid friend,” the “great fool” in that post. 1 I’m excessive? How am I excessive? If it weren’t for our deep friendship, I would have made her boyfriend dump her ages ago. I haven’t broken them up to this day. Isn’t that saintly enough? Facing the accusations of thousands of anonymous users, the poster—Sienna Wells—was still declaring the love of her “simp” with utter audacity. Netizens were disgusted by her brazen shamelessness. They pleaded with the algorithm to push the post to the victim. But they didn’t know. The victim had been here, scrolling and reading, from the very beginning. I wanted to believe it was the universe intervening, perhaps, that fate couldn’t stand to watch me be deceived for the rest of my life. That on the eve of our ninth year together, just before we were set to file our marriage license, the truth had been shoved into my face. Ugh, I’m done talking to you losers. Gotta run. Taking my boy out for a candlelight dinner. Sorry, bestie. Your man is booked for the night. Tee hee. Meeting the next round of angry comments, Sienna rubbed it in further, posting a photo of a restaurant interior. I recognized the sleek, high-end decor of a Michelin-starred spot. I saved the image and searched. The restaurant name, The Monarch Room, quickly appeared on my screen. And next to it, the average price: Five figures per person. They say that when you truly love someone, you give them the very best of yourself. In my nine years with Liam, our most frequent date night was the local hole-in-the-wall Thai place. Our most expensive meal was the $45-per-person brunch at the Sunny Diner downtown. And tonight, on my twenty-eighth birthday, he was buying Sienna a diamond ring and taking her to a five-figure restaurant, all while telling me he had to work late. The old adage was undeniably true: The money goes where the love is. 2 Liam came home just as I was drying my hair. He was holding a tiny box of a cake with a single candle, presenting it to me like a treasured relic. “Babe, it’s not midnight yet. Come on, make a wish.” I recognized the pathetic, palm-sized thing. It was from the bakery across the street—eighteen dollars, reduced to twelve on the end-of-day markdown. The little strawberry on top was already starting to wilt. I blew a quick breath, and the candle went out. Liam’s eyes crinkled with relief. He scooped up a bite of the frosting and held it to my mouth. I turned my head away. “I already brushed my teeth, Liam. I’m not hungry.” His hand froze. He stared at me for a long moment, then placed the cake carefully on the dresser. “It’s my bad about missing your actual birthday. But the project is crunch time, I couldn’t step away. That’s why I used the Late Pass.” Work was Liam’s most reliable excuse; I’d always believed him. But this time, I didn’t brush it off or wave it away. I looked directly at him. “You’re out of Late Passes, Liam.” He blinked. “What?” My tone was completely level. “The fourth of this month, the movie night? You said the client called, so you used one. The tenth, the dinner at your parents’? We waited an hour and a half for you, so you used one. The fifteenth, the gallery opening? You claimed your car broke down, so you used the last one.” “You burned through your passes in the first half of the month.” Liam was busy, and I was busy. To maintain our relationship, we’d agreed to four dates a month. But he was perpetually late. So, we instituted the “Late Pass” system. Three per month, and if he exceeded them, he owed the person he stood up a favor. He was always the first to run out. My sudden cold recollection of every specific date made Liam fall silent. After a beat, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, trying to be casual. “The more overtime I put in now, the more time I can tack on to our honeymoon. We can make up all the time then.” “You love Hawaii, right? Let’s do the big trip there.” Hearing his supposedly thoughtful words, I felt Liam deserved an Oscar for acting. Even while lying, he was composed, his voice warm as a summer breeze. I remembered the year after graduation, renting an apartment to work on my design exhibition. A male neighbor, seeing me alone, harassed me late one night. While waiting for the police, I was trapped behind the door, listening to an adult man’s desperate threats. The first person I’d called was Liam. He had used that exact gentle, soothing voice to calm my terror. But now, I remembered something else with unsettling clarity. I had been hysterical, pouring out my fear. Liam had only uttered a few meaningless filler sounds. It was the same practiced distraction he was using now. And then I realized: He forgot that I hated places with too much sun due to my UV sensitivity, that I was always dreaming of snow and mountains. The person who loved Hawaii, who owned a closet full of brightly colored bikinis, was Sienna. Looking back, the signs had always been there. I’d just been too blind to see them. Sienna casually mentioned how beautiful Hawaii was, and he remembered it forever. I constantly talked about the Oakhaven Crest ski lodge, and he completely forgot. The conclusion—he doesn’t love me—was now stamped indelibly on my heart. I turned off the hairdryer. The last wisp of warm air seemed to blow away the final shred of my lingering affection for him. I stood and walked toward the guest room. Liam followed. As he closed the space between us, I caught the sickeningly sweet scent of his cologne and another, unfamiliar scent—a cloying, sugary perfume. I coughed, turning my head, and pushed him gently back from the door. “I think I’m coming down with something. Let’s sleep in separate rooms for a bit.” Liam started to protest, but I didn’t give him a chance. I decisively nudged him out and shut the door with a sharp click.

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For five years, Harry Shaw, my boyfriend from one of the city’s elite families, always said his mother favored an independent daughter-in-law. When I forgot my fob key downstairs while walking the dog and called him for help, he replied: “Eliza, it’s only the eighteenth floor. Put some effort into it and climb up.” “When you meet my mom, she’ll definitely praise you for being such a resourceful, strong young woman. You’ll be one step closer to becoming a Shaw.” I understood the rules of old money—they had a lot of them—so I quietly put the ninety-pound Alaskan Malamute on my shoulder and climbed the stairs. When my direct-entry Ph.D. fellowship was suddenly revoked by the university and I asked him to call the committee head, he scoffed: “You need me to step in for something like this? How can you ever be a qualified Mrs. Shaw?” Even when my mother, Diane, was diagnosed with acute lymphoma, and I begged him to lend me a hundred thousand dollars for the surgery, his refusal was icy: “Eliza, you need to find this money yourself. Our family doesn’t like people who can’t take care of their own financial problems.” I was running a DoorDash delivery to earn money for my mother’s care when I got the message that she had died. Simultaneously, Harry Shaw’s good deed—helping a classmate with farm work in her hometown—went viral on social media. #HarryShawSpottedWithNewGirlfriend,ParentsAreFarmers #SierraWells,TheFellowshipSlot #ShawHeirSpendsThreeMillionToBuildWellsFamilyFarm My takeout bag slipped, scattering dinner all over the pavement. It was in that moment, staring at the ruined meal, that I finally understood. It wasn’t that the Shaw family needed an independent daughter-in-law. It was that Harry simply had no room for me in his life. 1 When I finally reached the hospital, the life monitor over Mom’s bed was displaying that terrifying, single flat line. The doctor had already covered her with a white sheet, leaving her pushed casually to the side of the room. I completely broke down, collapsing to the floor and pleading with the physician: “Doctor, why aren’t you trying to save her? Why did you stop?” The doctor stepped back, a look of tired annoyance on his face. “Ms. Cole, you owe us over two hundred thousand in medical bills for the last month.” “We gave you a final ultimatum. If the payment wasn’t made today, we had no choice but to stop treatment.” Tears blurring my vision, I scrambled for my phone. “My boyfriend is very wealthy. I’m calling him right now to come pay.” “Please, just try to revive her again.” I called him over and over, each time resulting in the long, hopeful du-du-du that ended only with a hang-up. The doctor looked at me like I was insane. “Ms. Cole, please accept our condolences.” How could I possibly accept that Mom was just… gone? My father died when I was three. My mother raised me alone, never once considering remarriage, her entire focus on me. When relatives mocked her for letting a girl read so much, urging me to work and help her, she stood behind me, a rock, promising to support my education for as long as I wanted to study. Just then, my phone started buzzing incessantly. The class group chat had exploded. Sierra Wells had posted photos of Harry, bent over, applying fertilizer. [Harry worked so hard today, cutie pie ~] [My parents were stressing about those acres, but Harry brought a dozen of his security staff to help, and they finished everything in one day.] [Oh, he also paid to expand our land and fulfill my parents’ dream of running a real farm.] Tears traced slow, hot paths down my cheeks. I noticed the crescent-shaped indentations my fingernails had left in my palms; blood was dripping onto the tile floor. Someone chimed in: [Saw the news about you two today! Harry, what’s the deal? Why are you being so sweet to Sierra?] [Seriously, people might think you’re actually dating. You were never this nice to your actual girlfriend.] [Yeah, haven’t seen you and Eliza in a while. Did you break up?] Harry didn’t deny it or confirm it. He just replied: [Everyone’s happy today, and it happens to be Sierra’s mother’s birthday.] [Sierra mentioned she’s never had a real birthday celebration. I’m hosting a dinner tonight. How about everyone comes to join the fun and sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Mrs. Wells?] Harry had always looked out for Sierra, claiming her family was poor and she’d be discriminated against without his help. He insisted that as classmates, it was his duty to provide extra care. I used to feel an ache of discomfort, but I’d always manage to convince myself that Harry was just a kind-hearted person. But now, looking at my quiet, cold mother, and then at the celebratory noise in the group chat, I felt like the biggest fool alive. Since Mom got sick, I’d been begging Harry to lend me the money, offering to sign an IOU. He always refused, giving me the same line: “Eliza, what if you didn’t have me as a boyfriend?” “The Shaw family rules are strict. If my mother finds out you relied on me to save your mom, you’ll never marry me. She’ll look down on you.” “Be a good girl. Rely on yourself.” And now, he was hosting a lavish birthday gala for Sierra’s mother at the city’s best hotel. The cost of a single table was three times my mother’s monthly treatment fee. Finally, Harry called me back. The first words out of his mouth were: “Don’t bother with DoorDash tonight. Sierra wants you to come to her mother’s birthday dinner, too.” “How much do you earn in a day? I’ll compensate you. Is two hundred dollars enough?” 2 My voice was trembling, impossible to control. “Harry, what is your relationship with Sierra?” “What relationship could it be? We’re classmates.” The tears wouldn’t stop falling. “Then why are you so devoted to her and so completely negligent of me?” He sounded annoyed. “How many times do I have to explain this to you?” “We’re classmates; it’s the right thing to help her, isn’t it?” “You, on the other hand, are my girlfriend, my future wife. I’ve always been training you to be a proper, independent, and compliant Mrs. Shaw.” The same old excuse. I’d heard it too many times. But the attention he gave Sierra had long crossed every line, making me flash back to when he was pursuing me. Then, he couldn’t do enough; he would painstakingly remove the seeds from strawberries for me and shower me with designer bags and jewelry. Everyone on the campus forum envied me, and the question I heard most often was: “Harry, why are you so good to Eliza? Aren’t wealthy guys usually playboys?” “Because I love Eliza, and keeping her happy is my only priority.” “And I’ll be the most loyal man this family has ever produced.” He changed the moment Sierra transferred to our program. Suddenly, he decided he’d spoiled me too much and started preaching independence as the key to marrying him. I should have seen it then: he had changed his mind. “Harry, I’ve had enough. Whoever wants to be a Shaw wife can have it. I’m out.” “What is wrong with you today? Did you drink battery acid?” I screamed into the phone. “My mother is dead, Harry. Do you know why? Because I couldn’t afford her hospital bill, and the doctors stopped her medication.” “If you had just loaned me the money, her disease wouldn’t have progressed this fast.” “She wouldn’t have died from lack of treatment.” Silence on the other end. Then a brittle laugh. “Eliza, stop lying.” “I’ve explained this to you so many times. If I loan you money, people will think you’re a gold-digger. If that rumor reaches my family, you’ll never get in. I was protecting our future.” “And now you’re so jealous you’re fabricating your mother’s death just to make me feel guilty. Eliza, how could you be so manipulative?” Sierra snatched the phone. Her voice was a whiny, pleading whisper. “Eliza, don’t scare him like that.” “There’s really nothing going on between us. Harry just felt sorry for me and helped me out.” “Giving me your direct-entry fellowship and helping my family build a farm… he’s done so much for me. How could I ever be cruel enough to break you two up?” My heart seized for a second. The air I gasped for tasted metallic, like blood. “What did you just say?” When my fellowship was revoked and handed to Sierra, I tried to get an explanation from the committee head, who was Harry’s uncle. I was constantly brushed off and told it was confidential. I never, in my wildest nightmares, considered that Harry had actively sabotaged me. He kept talking about how the Shaw family preferred a competent and independent woman, all while deliberately clipping my wings to nourish hers. It was a vicious joke. Sierra sounded close to tears. “Eliza, did I say something wrong?” Harry took the phone back. “Okay, stop causing a scene. It’s no big deal.” “You’ll have everything you want once you marry into the Shaw family. Why are you competing with Sierra?” “I’ll double my compensation—is five hundred dollars enough? Just drop your delivery bag and come celebrate with us.” I wanted to refuse, but the doctor shoved a final bill into my hand: “Total outstanding balance is just under two hundred seventy thousand. The chief told me if it’s not paid within three days, we have to file a lawsuit.” Tears dripped onto the paper. After a month of non-stop DoorDash shifts, my salary was less than nine thousand dollars. On the phone, Harry was already raising the offer to five thousand for the night. “Eliza, seriously, enough is enough. It’s five grand. Don’t push your luck and think you can manipulate me.” I swallowed, my voice flat. “I’ll come to the party. Thirty thousand dollars for the night.” I was ready for his outright refusal, but he was willing to pay anything to keep Sierra happy. “Fine. Thirty thousand. But wear something festive tonight. Stop wearing those drab, awful clothes of yours.” After hanging up, I leaned over my mother, feeling her already cold skin one last time. My tears soaked the white sheet. That’s when I noticed a small piece of paper clutched in her hand. I carefully unfolded it. It listed the location of her savings book and an address in Boston: [Liza, after I’m gone, go to your Uncle Leo.] 3 Before I could process the note, the hearse arrived. I followed my mother to the funeral home. Harry’s messages immediately started popping up: [Why aren’t you here yet? Everyone’s waiting for you.] [Just wired you 30k. Put the memo as: Voluntary Gift.] The thirty thousand dollars appeared in my account. For a brief, agonizing second, a wave of bitterness washed over me. He really was that generous when it came to making Sierra happy. I spent the ride staring out the window, deep in thought, until we arrived at the hotel. The moment I stepped into the private ballroom, a cheer erupted. Harry had Sierra’s chin tilted up, and he was kissing her aggressively, their embrace melting together. Their faces were flushed. Beside them, two middle-aged people, her parents, were taking proud photos. I froze. The scabs on the cuts I’d made on my palm the day before were split open again, blood welling up and running over my hand. Just then, a volley of fireworks exploded outside. They pulled apart, looking slightly breathless. “Mom and Dad, I told you Harry was your future son-in-law! You didn’t believe me!” Sierra giggled. “He promised me he’d be good to me forever.” “Look! These are all the gifts he got you. And the fireworks display!” [HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MRS. WELLS. GOOD HEALTH AND GOOD FORTUNE.] The huge message lit up the night sky, and Sierra’s mother beamed, barely able to contain her joy. “Oh, you sweet boy. You’ve put so much thought into this.” “Did this birthday party cost you a lot?” Harry smiled charmingly. “It was nothing, Mrs. Wells. Just over three million dollars.” “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” My heart twisted in my chest. To please Sierra, he was willing to spend three million dollars on a birthday gala for her mother. Yet he wouldn’t lend me one hundred thousand dollars, despite five years of shared life, to save my own mother. Harry Shaw, how could I not resent you? I turned to leave, but Sierra called out. She was smiling, holding up her phone. “Eliza, you made it.” “Could you take a family picture for us?” Harry looked momentarily guilty, but he quickly fell back into character. As the shutter clicked, my heart pulsed with a sharp, blinding pain. The photos were instantly posted online, causing an uproar along with the fireworks. Everyone gushed: [They look so perfect and so happy!] [Marry a man like this! Handsome, rich, and so devoted to spoiling his girl.] [Mr. Shaw, stop being so in love already!] I don’t know how I made it through the rest of the night. All I remember is that, in the end, Harry hailed me a cab. “Eliza, Sierra’s asleep. I need to take her home myself.” “You go ahead.” “Driver, take her to the Ridgewood Estates.” I shook my head. “No. To the funeral home.” Harry’s face went pale. “Eliza, stop this. Seriously.” “Why in the hell would you go to a funeral home? Are you trying to deliberately disgust me?” “Sierra is the guest of honor tonight. We were just putting on a show for her and her parents.” I laughed. After everything, he was still trying to explain. But it no longer mattered. He felt more repulsive to me now than the bile-inducing vodka I’d downed earlier. I told the driver, “The funeral home, please.” On the way back, the cab’s radio was playing the news, which happened to be an interview with Harry’s mother, Mrs. Shaw. The reporter asked: “Have you seen the news about your son’s public romance? What are your thoughts?” “It seems like he is very devoted to this relationship, spending millions on his girlfriend’s mother’s birthday party.” “The girl’s parents are farmers. The family background doesn’t match the Shaw Dynasty. Will you break them up?” Mrs. Shaw’s voice was warm and gentle. “I just saw the news. The girl seems wonderful.” “The Shaw family has always supported freedom in marriage. As long as my son is happy, we don’t have all those archaic rules.” A fresh wave of bitterness washed over me. The image she presented was nothing like the “strict matriarch” Harry had always described. I finally knew the truth: the “strict rules” were just a convenient lie Harry had used to push me away once he’d found someone else to obsess over. That night, I kept vigil by my mother’s casket. Harry was exchanging intimate videos with Sierra. My phone buzzed: [Eliza, did you see? Mrs. Shaw already approves of me. I am his legitimate girlfriend.] [You are nothing but a pet Harry kept around for his own amusement. A dog.] [He has no feelings for you. Now get lost.] She was right. But even a cornered dog will bite. 4 After I buried my mother, I held up my ID and posted a video to social media, reporting Sierra Wells’s fellowship slot as an act of fraud and unauthorized transfer. The video went viral within minutes. The most absurd thing was that Harry, who hadn’t contacted me in days, violently slammed open the door of my apartment. His face was red with fury. “What the hell is this online report? What do you think you’re doing?” “Do you realize this could ruin Sierra’s career?” “Is this the measure of the future Mrs. Shaw? You need to go online right now and post a retraction, saying you only slandered Sierra because you were jealous.” I stared into his raging eyes, my reply firm. “You two are sleeping together. How am I still connected to you?” “Stop trying to gaslight me with that ‘Mrs. Shaw’ nonsense.” Then Sierra rushed in, collapsing onto her knees in front of me, crying: “Eliza, we just lost control for a moment! I promise I’ll stay away from Harry from now on, okay?” “Are you really going to destroy my future just for this?” I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “What future? The one you stole from me?” Smack. Harry’s palm landed hard across my cheek. He pulled Sierra up, his expression full of protective concern. “Sierra, you don’t need to beg her.” “Eliza, I’ll give you three minutes to reconsider.” My ears were ringing. I fought back the tears and returned the slap with all my strength. “Everything I’ve exposed is what you both earned.” Harry’s brow furrowed into a deep scowl. “Fine. Don’t regret this.” They quickly released a statement: [The university has re-audited the application, and Sierra Wells’s Ph.D. fellowship is legitimate and without issue.] Then, someone posing as a witness released a silent video clip of Sierra kneeling in front of me. [I’m in their class. Eliza has always been jealous of how pretty Sierra is and her academic success, so she’s been bullying her for a long time.] [She dares to make her kneel in front of Harry. Imagine how she abuses her in private.] [She’s been obsessed with Harry forever. When the news about him and Sierra broke, she got so angry she actually claimed her own mother died, just to make him feel guilty for ignoring her.] The topic shot up the trending list, and no one cared about the fellowship fraud anymore. They framed the entire event as my jealousy and bullying. The online outrage was relentless: [You cursed your mom to die? Hope it comes true. You should join her.] [The way you bully her is disgusting, miss. You’ll never land a good man like Harry Shaw.] [How dare you abuse Sierra? Harry was merciful not to kick you to death.] Someone dug up an old photo of my mother and photoshopped a funeral portrait for both of us, spreading it across social media. The torrent of pure malice made my body ice cold, trembling with rage. I thought of the note my mother had left me. The one with the address. With things escalating this quickly, my only hope was to go to Boston and find Uncle Leo.

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