To satisfy the director’s sick fantasy, my wife told me she’d been forced onto the casting couch. “Honey, you can’t call the police,” she’d sobbed, her body trembling. “It would ruin me! You have to help me!” Her plan was for me to hide in a closet and gather evidence. I looked at her tear-stained face, my heart a frozen stone in my chest. If I hadn’t accidentally overheard that phone call three days ago, I would have been a puppet in her twisted little play. She buried her face in my chest. “You’re the only one who can save me, Cole. The only one who can save my career.” I stared down at her, my expression unreadable, until she looked up at me, a flicker of unease in her eyes. Only then did I speak, my voice flat. “If it’s what my darling wife wants,” I said softly, “then I’ll play my part.” A tremor ran through her body. A complex, unreadable emotion flashed across her face. If it’s a game you want, then I’ll play along. But we’ll be playing by my rules. 1 Three in the morning. The digital lock on the front door beeped softly. I sat in the dark living room, watching the figure stumble through the doorway. She was barefoot, clutching a designer high-heel with a snapped stiletto. The collar of her couture gown was ripped halfway open, revealing a cluster of angry red marks just below her collarbone. “Cole,” she gasped the moment I flipped on the lights. She launched herself at me. Her hair was a mess, her makeup smeared into a tragic mask. As she crashed into my arms, a foul cocktail of scents assaulted me. Her signature perfume was heavy, but underneath it, I could smell the acrid stench of tobacco. And something else… a coppery, intimate odor that made my stomach clench. But I didn’t push her away. I just forced myself to remain calm. “Stella? What happened?” Stella lifted her head, her eyes brimming with tears. “It was Vance, the director. He’s insane! At the wrap party tonight, he kept forcing drinks on me, and then he dragged me into a private lounge…” She choked on a sob, unable to continue. I guided her to the sofa and went to get the first-aid kit. I used to be a medical examiner before I gave it all up to be her full-time husband. I have a professional’s eye for injuries. I knelt before her, tending to the scrapes on her knees. It was a dark, purplish bruise, swollen and raw from being rubbed repeatedly against a coarse carpet. This wasn’t from a fall. It was pressure-induced purpura, the kind formed from kneeling on a hard surface for a prolonged period. “He threatened me,” she whimpered, her whole body shaking. “He said if I didn’t do what he wanted, he’d blacklist me. Cole, I was so scared.” My hand, holding the cotton swab, froze just above her knee. I saw the marks on her wrists. They weren’t the messy, uneven bruises of someone being dragged against their will. They were a pair of neat, symmetrical bands of red. The kind left by restraints. “He was like an animal,” she continued, her tears splashing onto the back of my hand. “He ripped my dress in seconds.” “If I hadn’t smashed a bottle over my own head and run for it, tonight I might have been…” I glanced at her forehead. There was a slight red bump, but the skin wasn’t even broken. It was the kind of minor injury you get from a bit of rough foreplay, not a desperate escape. Does she really think I’m that blind? That stupid? My fingers tightened, and the cotton swab snapped in two. I tossed it into the trash without a word and grabbed a new one. “Cole, say something,” Stella pleaded, cupping my face in her hands and forcing me to meet her gaze. “Are you disgusted with me?” In the lamplight, her pupils were slightly dilated. I didn’t see the relief of a survivor or the shame of a victim. I saw a strange, unsettling excitement. “No,” I said, gently pulling her hands away. “I’m just thinking we should call the police.” The moment I said “police,” her body went rigid. “No!” she shrieked, then immediately softened her tone. “We can’t. Vance has things he can use against me, and there were no cameras in that room. We’d never win, and my reputation would be destroyed.” “Then what do you want to do?” Stella bit her lip, took a deep breath, and leaned in close, her expression one of grim determination. That nauseating mix of tobacco and sex filled my nostrils again. “I want revenge, honey.” Her voice dropped to a low, husky whisper. “A man like Vance… his biggest fear is having his reputation ruined. He told me he’s coming to my hotel room again tomorrow night.” “This is my only chance.” 2 She gripped my hand, her knuckles white. “Tomorrow night, we’ll set up hidden cameras in the room. But that’s not enough. What if he tries something else? It could all go wrong.” “Cole, I need you to hide in the closet.” I lifted my eyes to meet hers. “You want me to hide in the closet?” “Yes. You’ll get there first with a key card and hide inside.” She spoke faster now, a manic gleam in her eyes. “The hotel closets have louvered doors. You’ll be able to breathe, and you’ll see everything.” “You can record it all on your phone. It’ll be ironclad proof. The second you have footage of him laying a hand on me, you burst out and we catch him in the act!” “Please, Cole.” She buried her face in my lap. “It’s the only way to save me. Please!” The air grew thick and still. I looked down at my wife, kneeling at my feet. It was the perfect script. The victimized starlet, the monstrous director, and the husband forced to swallow his pride to protect his wife. If it hadn’t been for the phone call I’d overheard three days ago, the performance would have been flawless. She had gone to “discuss the script” with Vance that day and came back reeking of smoke. I have a thing about cleanliness, so I went to her car to place some charcoal air fresheners. The moment I got in, the car’s Bluetooth connected to her phone and automatically played her most recent call recording, a feature she’d set up to keep track of conversations with her agent. “Vance, darling, this new script is so thrilling. But what if that stiff of a husband of mine won’t play along?” A man’s greasy laugh. “Oh, he’ll watch. A pathetic weakling like that? You just have to cry a little, and he’ll do anything you say.” “Imagine him, stuck in the closet, watching us… Tsk, the thought of it… Tell me, my famous Stella, doesn’t that excite you?” “Stop it! Although… it does sound kind of hot. Having him watch with his own two eyes…” The rest of her words were lost in a series of suggestive moans. Her voice pulled me back from the memory. I looked at the woman at my feet, still giving the performance of her life. I wasn’t angry anymore. It was almost laughable. I, a medical examiner with a promising career, had given it all up for her, only to be treated like this. “Alright,” I said slowly. “If this is what it takes to help you, I’ll do it.” Stella’s head shot up, a triumphant smile she couldn’t suppress spreading across her lips. She threw her arms around me and planted a wet kiss on my cheek. The sickening smell washed over me again. I forced myself to return the embrace, resting my chin on the top of her head. My eyes fell on the large floor-to-ceiling mirror across the room. The man reflected in it was me, but his face was a blank, emotionless mask. If you want to act, then I’ll put on a real show for you. But this play won’t end according to your script. “Go take a shower,” I said, gently patting her back. “I’ve already run the water. Wash it all away.” Stella nodded meekly and headed to the bathroom. The moment the door clicked shut, the warmth vanished from my face. I walked to the entryway where she’d left her phone, screen-down. It was still on an active call. The screen read: “Vance.” I didn’t hang up. I just placed it back down as if I’d seen nothing. After her shower, Stella walked into the bedroom. “Honey, Vance just called. He wants to have dinner with us tomorrow. Can you make it?” she said, feigning annoyance. “I have no idea what he’s planning now, it’s so frustrating…” But I could see the glint of anticipation deep in her eyes. I nodded. “I’ll go. Let’s see what he has to say.” 3 At the dinner, I was seated at the far end of the table, the lowest position. “Alright, everyone, a toast!” Vance, at the head of the table, raised his glass. His fat face was flushed with alcohol, glistening with sweat and oil. I raised my glass with the others. Vance’s eyes slid right past me, landing on Stella, who was seated beside him. She was dressed for the part tonight in a black slip dress, the material thin and sheer. It was only then I noticed she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. Her bare fingers were expertly peeling a crawfish. “Waiter! Is the AC in here set to arctic?” Vance suddenly boomed, rubbing his hands together dramatically. He then held one hand out in front of Stella. “My hands are freezing.” The table fell silent. Every eye in the room turned to me. Every eye except for Vance and Stella. I watched as my wife casually tossed the crawfish shell aside, wiped her fingers meticulously with a wet nap, and turned to the director with a dazzling smile. “Director Vance, you have to take care of yourself. We can’t have you catching a chill.” As she spoke, she took his greasy paw in her hand. Then, in front of the entire cast and crew, in front of me, her husband, she pulled his hand into her dress, nestling it in the warmth of her cleavage. “It’s warmer in here,” she purred. As his hand started to move, her eyes fluttered shut like a contented cat. “You just warm up right there. Honey,” she called to me, “can you go turn up the thermostat?” A wave of nausea washed over me, but I fought it down. I slipped my hand under the table and pressed the side button on my phone. The recording began. “Hahaha! You’re one of a kind, Stella!” Vance roared with laughter, his wrist moving beneath the fabric of her dress. The table erupted in sycophantic chatter. “Hey, you,” an assistant director said, kicking the leg of my chair. “Aren’t you going to toast the director? Your wife is so accommodating. Don’t you drop the ball.” I looked up and my eyes met Stella’s. She gave me a subtle look, a silent plea to endure this for the sake of the ‘bigger plan.’ “Cole.” Vance didn’t remove his hand. He simply used his other one to point at me with his wine glass. “Truth be told, there were a lot of actresses up for this role.” He let out a boozy burp. “If Stella hadn’t gotten on her knees and begged me the other day, you wouldn’t even have the right to be in this room.” “Of course. Stella is lucky to have your guidance.” “Look at you, so flexible!” Vance sneered. He grabbed a copy of the script and slapped me across the face with it, sending pages scattering to the floor. “You think one sentence from you is enough? Who the hell do you think you are?” I knelt to pick up the script pages. Under the table, I saw two pairs of legs tangled together. Vance’s Gucci loafers were resting firmly on Stella’s bare feet. “Alright,” Vance said, picking up the decanter, still half-full of red wine. “Since you’re asking me for a favor, you’ll drink this whole thing. Then I’ll give Stella another chance.” I have a severe ulcer. Stella knew this. The doctor had warned me that one more drink of hard liquor could perforate my stomach. I looked at her. She was nestled against Vance, her gaze floating over to me, cool and detached. “What? Not showing me enough respect?” Vance’s face darkened. “Honey,” Stella finally spoke. “So many people would kill for a chance to drink with Director Vance. Just do it for me. Drink up.” She stood, took the decanter from his hand. “Director Vance, your arm must be tired. Let me pour for you.” She walked over to me. “Drink it, Cole.”

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1 As the wedding march played, my bride Captain Evelyn Reed detonated our lives. Her lover Aiden was on his deathbed. She rose from the altar, tearing off her veil. “Caleb, Aiden is dying. I have to go now.” Her eyes showed no guilt. Silence fell. The Command’s top brass in the front pews watched with stony displeasure. “Evelyn,” I said clearly, “this is more than our wedding—it’s an alliance between our families. Will you shatter the honor of both dynasties for one man?” Evelyn froze, shocked by my public challenge. Whispers spread: “Poor Dr. Hall…” “They say she’s carrying that man’s child…” In my past life, I’d begged her to stay, but Aiden died alone and she miscarried from grief. She grew to hate me, tormenting me until my death and leaving my body to rot in the rainforests. Now, reborn at the altar, I looked at Evelyn in white and felt only cold irony. This time, everyone would see it was the Reeds who betrayed me. This time, Evelyn Reed would pay for her choice. … “Captain Reed, it’s an emergency!” A young woman in uniform burst into the chapel, interrupting the vows. “Aiden’s fading fast! He’s asking for you!” Tears streamed down her face. “Captain, please, you have to save him! He’s the father of your baby!” Even knowing the truth, the words were a dagger to the heart. She was already pregnant with another man’s child. My hand tightened around the velvet ring box. Across from me, Evelyn’s hand went limp, her face draining of color. “What are you talking about? What’s happened to Aiden?” She turned to leave, ready to abandon the entire congregation. Last time, this was the moment I stopped her, forcing her into a marriage that became my tomb. This time, I wouldn’t stand in her way. But I would make her fall. I grabbed her arm. “Evelyn, who is Aiden? And what did she mean, you’re pregnant?” I let shock and devastation flood my features, earning looks of pity from every guest. The whispers started again. “My God, the poor man. His bride is pregnant with her lover’s child before the wedding is even over.” “On the day of their union, too. What a slap in the face to the Hall family.” Evelyn shot me an impatient look. “Caleb, it’s true, I’m carrying Aiden’s child. It was an accident. But I can’t let him die alone. I’ll explain everything later.” She tried to pull away. “Wait,” I said, stepping in front of her. “Today is our wedding day. You’re going to walk out on me, in front of our commanders and comrades, for another man? What does that say about the honor of my family?” “If you loved someone else, why didn’t you tell me? Why wait until our wedding day to humiliate me like this?” “A Hall son doesn’t have to marry a Reed daughter.” She tore her hand from my grasp. “I’m not saying I won’t marry you! But Aiden’s life is on the line! I can’t just ignore that!” My eyes welled up, a single tear tracing a perfect path down my cheek. “But this alliance was set in stone by our families. The invitations were sent, the union sanctioned by the Command. If you leave now, this marriage is void. You can explain that to our parents tomorrow.” My tears fell like broken pearls. In this life, I had learned how to weaponize weakness. I would make it clear to everyone that Evelyn Reed, and the entire Reed family, were the ones at fault. Hearing the gossip around them, Evelyn’s parents, General and Mrs. Reed, turned beet red. “Evelyn, stop this nonsense!” her father boomed. “Today is your wedding to Caleb! You will not walk out of here!” “Get back here and finish the ceremony!” The young woman soldier dropped to her knees. “General, Ma’am, please! Aiden is the father of your grandchild! Can you truly be so heartless?” “Captain,” she cried, turning to Evelyn, “Aiden has followed you without name or recognition. Are you really going to let him die alone?” “Father, Mother, can you?” Evelyn echoed, her voice pleading. She then turned her glare on me. “This is a dynastic union. The marriage is inevitable, so what’s the rush? Is the great Hall family so desperate to marry me off that it can’t wait a single day? Isn’t that a little pathetic?” Her tone softened. “Caleb, I know you’re reasonable. We’ll be living together soon enough. I’m sure you and Aiden can get along peacefully, can’t you?” A cold smile touched my lips. “Evelyn, you and I are not yet married. This union is not yet fact. I have no intention of becoming ‘brothers’ with your lover.” I threw the ring box to the ground. “If you’re so determined to save him, I won’t stop you. But the alliance between our families will not be jeopardized by your personal drama.” “Does the Reed family name mean so little to you?” General Reed’s face was a mask of cold fury. “Evelyn, this union affects the standing of two Commands! Are you going to drag this entire family through the mud for some boy?” Evelyn was dismissive. “Father, I agreed to the alliance, didn’t I? What does it matter when the wedding happens? You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.” She was completely oblivious to the gravity of the situation. “What’s next? Are you going to dictate when we’re allowed to sleep together?” Seeing her father’s rage finally boil over, I took a step forward, a faint smile on my lips. I addressed her parents. “General, Mrs. Reed. The alliance is between the Hall and Reed families. It doesn’t specify which daughter I must marry.” “Since Evelyn already has someone she loves, I won’t stand in her way. Our engagement is hereby terminated. The woman I marry today will be her sister, Elara Reed.” The chapel erupted in gasps. Evelyn laughed out loud. “What did you say? You want to marry my sister? She’s just a border patrol grunt! I am a Special Forces Captain! The chosen successor to the Reed legacy! Have you lost your mind?” I met her arrogant gaze without flinching. “And what of it? You may be the heir, but you cheated during our engagement and got pregnant by another man. Why would I marry someone with no loyalty? Elara may serve on the border, but she is a decorated soldier with integrity. She is a thousand times the woman you will ever be.” I gave her a mocking look. “Or are you having second thoughts? Do you want to marry me after all? Oh, but dear Aiden… I wonder how he’s doing. Is he writhing in agony right now?” The young soldier tugged on Evelyn’s arm. “Captain, we can’t wait any longer! Aiden is running out of time!” Evelyn stared at me, her face a canvas of contempt. “Fine. If you’d rather marry my sister than be my husband, I’ll grant you your wish. After I have Aiden’s baby, he’ll live with me in the Reed house. Caleb Hall, don’t you dare regret this!” With that, she ripped the bride’s corsage from her dress, threw it to the floor, and stormed out of the chapel in a fury. I turned to my aide. “Contact my parents. Tell them to bring the alliance contract.” My parents arrived within minutes. My father’s face was thunderous. “So this is the Reed family’s honor! Do you take the Halls for fools? For your daughter to create such a scandal on her wedding day… Don’t blame us for what comes next.” I stepped between them. “Father, it’s settled. I won’t marry Evelyn. But the alliance is what matters, not the specific bride. With Evelyn’s infidelity and her pregnancy, I refuse to marry her. But she isn’t the only daughter. There is still Elara.” My mother spoke in a low voice. “Caleb, you don’t have to sacrifice yourself. If we annul the contract now, the fault is entirely theirs.” I smiled faintly. Annulling a sanctioned military union was a messy affair. Switching the bride was far simpler. The Command wouldn’t care if I married the first or second Reed daughter, as long as the alliance held firm. Besides, in my previous life, after Evelyn had driven me to my death, it was Elara who had stood up at my funeral and condemned her sister’s betrayal, opening everyone’s eyes to Evelyn’s true nature. My father considered this, then nodded. He turned to General Reed. “General, your thoughts?” General and Mrs. Reed agreed immediately. “This is for the best. We’ve wronged Caleb terribly. Someone, get Elara here at once.” My father held up a hand. “Of course my son has been wronged. Captain Reed’s deplorable conduct and public breach of this contract… if word of this gets out, it will damage both our reputations. She was pregnant with another man’s child during her engagement to my son.” “If the Reed family offers no form of amends, the high command might assume you condone this behavior.” General Reed looked stunned. “What do you propose?” I spoke up. “Since you agree that I have been wronged, and my family has chosen not to escalate this into a public feud, there is a simple solution. I suggest, General, that you recommend to the Command that Evelyn be stripped of her promotion eligibility. Her key duties should be reassigned to Elara.” “After all, as the designated heir, Evelyn has accomplished little besides bringing scandal to her family. Elara is a proven hero with a string of commendations. Don’t you think she is far better suited for leadership?” Defeated, General Reed finally nodded. “Very well. I will submit the recommendation to change the succession tomorrow.” “Miss Elara is here.” I turned. Elara was standing at the back of the crowd. I didn’t know how long she’d been listening. Dressed in her dusty border patrol uniform, she looked weary from travel, but it couldn’t hide her striking features. As she walked forward, her father placed a hand on her shoulder. “The family’s future rests on you now. Since your sister has no regard for her duty, let her have her freedom. The position of Reed heir is no longer hers.” Elara’s gaze met mine. “Dr. Hall, I’m just a soldier. I don’t understand all this romance and drama. I may not have time for moonlit walks. But I, Elara Reed, swear this: if we marry, I will be loyal to you for the rest of my life.” I smiled. “I know.” As the wedding march began anew, I placed the veil on her head. We exchanged rings and became husband and wife. Under the warm glow of the wedding lights, a weight lifted from my soul. This time, I was free of Evelyn Reed. And I had taken her future. Let’s see how she feels when she realizes she lost everything for the sake of her precious Aiden. The story of how Captain Reed abandoned her groom at the altar for a lover spread through the entire military command overnight. Three days later, when I accompanied Elara to her family home for the customary post-wedding visit, the Reeds had summoned Evelyn to return. She didn’t come alone. On her arm was Aiden, his cheeks rosy with health. For a man who was supposedly at death’s door just days ago, he looked remarkably well. He wore a designer coat and a custom watch, his arm wrapped possessively around Evelyn’s waist as they strolled in. “General, Mrs. Reed. I’m Aiden.” He didn’t bother to hide his smugness, his other hand resting on her still-flat stomach. The General’s face turned to stone. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you bring him here today!” “Father, Mother, Aiden is the man I love,” Evelyn announced. “He is the father of my child. I can’t pretend he doesn’t exist.” “Aiden and I are truly in love. We’ve decided to get married. I’ll be filing the official request with the Command.” Aiden looked at her with theatrical devotion. “Evelyn, my love, having you is all I need. Please, don’t argue with your parents for my sake.” Evelyn hugged him tighter. “My mind is made up. You will be my husband.” She then saw me, dressed in my formal suit, and her tone softened. “Caleb, I know I wronged you on the wedding day, leaving you to face the guests alone. I didn’t expect you to be so understanding and not make a scene. I’ll make it up to you.” “What I said about breaking the engagement was just in the heat of the moment. I’ll treat you well from now on.” “But Aiden is the father of my child, so he is the one I must marry. You can stay here with me. Aiden is a gentle soul, not suited for managing a household. You can run things here; it will give you some standing. You and Aiden must learn to get along.” I was about to respond to this torrent of nonsense when someone else spoke for me. “Sister, what are you saying to my husband? Caleb, darling, it’s time to serve tea to the elders.” Elara stepped out from behind me, gently taking my arm. Evelyn was dumbfounded. “What did you say? Your husband? The person Caleb married was me! How could it be you?” Elara smiled, her hand tightening on mine. “No, sister. You didn’t complete the wedding. You ran off to be with your Aiden, remember? Everyone in the Command knows that the person who exchanged rings with Caleb and spent the wedding night with him… was me.” “Impossible!” Evelyn shrieked. “Father, Mother, how could you let this happen? We’ll be a laughingstock!” General Reed’s face was dark. “You’re just now realizing we became a laughingstock yesterday? If it weren’t for Elara, the Reed family name would be in ruins!” Suddenly, the formal announcement of a military courier cut through the argument.

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Seven years ago, a life was lost on my operating table. The official inquiry concluded it was due to a botched rescue. The patient’s family splashed the hospital’s sign with red paint, then camped outside day and night, demanding my life for the one I’d taken. My own father, ashamed of the disgrace I’d brought upon our family, forbade me from wearing mourning black at his funeral. I was stripped of my license for gross negligence and spent the next seven years in prison. When I was released, I moved north, to a remote forestry station in the mountains, and became a warden. Life was quiet, the past a scar I tried not to touch. But the arrival of my ex-husband, Vincent Vance, tore that scar wide open. He was a star now, the celebrated Chief of Medicine at a prestigious hospital, his reputation immaculate. A blizzard was raging outside my small cabin when a convoy of medical vehicles pulled up. A voice, sharp as breaking ice, cut through the storm. “Dr. Ross, you know, Chief Vance never forgot you. He still wears his wedding ring!” I looked out at him, standing amidst the swirling snow yet untouched by it, and my stomach churned with a cold, familiar sickness. Because the man they called a saint, the “unforgettable” Chief Vance, was the one who had falsified the medical records all those years ago to protect his one true love, throwing me to the wolves without a second thought. 1 The snow beat a relentless rhythm against the windowpane. When I opened the door, Vincent was standing there, a dark figure against the white landscape. He wore a heavy overcoat, yet not a single snowflake clung to him. “Abby?” he asked, his voice laced with a performer’s disbelief. I said nothing, but my hand tightened on the doorframe, the rough wood splintering into my palm. A sharp, grounding pain. “Chief Vance is leading a team for the winter clinic,” Old Man Fitz, the station manager, said, squeezing past me with a wide, nervous grin. “Heard you were out here and thought he’d stop by to say hello.” “Just a few words, then I’ll be on my way,” Vincent said. My heart seized, as if caught in a vice. I had no choice but to step outside. As I did, a woman with sharp glasses from his team approached. I recognized her. She’d always been Seraphina Stone’s shadow. I couldn’t imagine why she was with Vincent now. “You must be Dr. Ross,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Chief Vance mentions you often.” She paused for effect. “He always said you were a force to be reckoned with in the ER. We call a surgeon like that ‘The Scalpel.’” “I just never imagined I’d find you… here.” Vincent cleared his throat, his face a perfect blank. “You can all wait for me in the vehicles. I’d like a moment alone with her.” Once they were gone, he spoke. “Abby, am I… too late?” I bit my lip, the words a painful whisper. “I’m afraid I can’t afford the honor, Chief Vance.” It was the first time I had ever called him that. He frowned, taking a step closer. “What have you done to yourself? You look… worn.” Worn? And whose fault is that, Vincent? A bitter laugh escaped me, and I took an involuntary step back. “If there’s nothing else, Chief Vance, you should go. I have to make my rounds soon.” I shoved my hands into my pockets, hiding the chilblains that covered them. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing any more of my decay. He looked at me with those eyes, the ones that could feign an ocean of depth and devotion. “Abby, does it have to be like this between us? You never knew the truth about what happened…” He moved to take another step, but a voice, light and melodic, cut him off. “Vincent, darling, you promised you’d come with me to my ultrasound today. Did you forget again?” Seraphina Stone emerged from the lead vehicle, a hand resting possessively on her swollen belly. She turned her triumphant gaze on me. “Dr. Ross. It’s been a long time.” “Vincent and I had an appointment,” she purred. “I was so worried when I couldn’t find him, I just had to come looking. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Her hand slipped naturally into the crook of his arm. So, they had a child now. What in God’s name was he doing here? Had he come all this way just to show me how happy he was? I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. This was the man who had forced me, the head of the department, to assist the junior Seraphina, just to give her a leg up. And when it all went wrong, he had pushed me off the cliff without a moment’s hesitation. A love that reckless deserved to be flaunted, didn’t it? I forced a brittle smile to my lips. Before I could speak, the woman with the glasses chimed in again. “Oh, Seraphina, you shouldn’t be out here in this cold! You have to take care of yourself. You should be at home resting. I’m here, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” Her fawning was sickening. I had no desire to be a part of their little drama. I turned to shut the door in their faces. 2 My phone rang. It was my brother, a voice I hadn’t heard in years. “I’m warning you, Abby, stay away from Vincent!” he hissed. “He’s about to be a father. Stop embarrassing yourself with this pathetic, shameless behavior!” The words hit me like a physical blow. Seraphina had already called him. Before I could process it, he continued, his voice dripping with resentment. “You didn’t even come to Dad’s funeral. And Mom’s not well. Vincent has been the one supporting us all these years! Don’t you dare cause any more trouble!” I opened my mouth to ask about our mother, but the line went dead. Of course. Seven years in prison for malpractice had made me a stain on the family name. My father had decreed on his deathbed that I was not to attend his funeral, that my name was not to be carved on his headstone. My mother and brother, who had once adored me, had become strangers. Thinking of my mother, my vision blurred. I wondered what they would feel if they knew the truth—that the people who had single-handedly destroyed my life were the very same ones they now revered. Vincent’s hand blocked the door before I could close it. “Don’t be too hard on your brother,” he said softly. “He’s had it rough. After Dad passed, Mom’s health declined. He’s been holding the family together all by himself.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, the picture of weary regret. “I know I didn’t handle the situation perfectly back then. And I’ve spent every year since trying to make up for the damage it caused you. If… and I’m just saying, if you ever need anything…” I slammed the door shut. A voice filtered through the wood. “Who does she think she is? Does she still think she’s ‘The Scalpel’? The Chief of Medicine comes all the way out here to see her, and she acts like this? She should be grateful.” “That’s enough,” came Vincent’s voice, smooth and controlled. “If she doesn’t want to see me, we’ll leave. There’s always tomorrow.” 3 The station was small. News of Vincent’s visit spread like wildfire. The whispers followed me everywhere. I was the ex-con who had the audacity to disrespect a man like Chief Vance. My patrol route was reassigned to the farthest, most isolated corner of the woods. The station manager couldn’t meet my eye. “Abby, you know I was hesitant to hire you, given your… history. I took a chance on you. This new route is remote, but it’s quiet. No one will bother you out there.” I accepted it in silence. I took my gear and walked deeper into the forest. The work became harder, the pay less reliable. I knew why. When my wages stopped coming altogether, I went to see the manager. Before I could say a word, he pushed a stack of cash into my hands—everything he owed me. Seeing the mix of guilt and relief on his face, I quit on the spot. He looked like a man who’d just been granted a pardon. “You’ll be better off away from here, Abby,” he said, his voice softer now. “Having a man like Chief Vance looking out for you… that’s a blessing most people could only dream of.” I knew it. It was always Vincent, pulling the strings. It was a blessing I could do without. I slung my meager bag over my shoulder and walked out of the forest for the last time. I visited the grave of my grandmother, the only person who had ever truly loved me. Then I wandered the city streets like a ghost, feeling the same profound dislocation I had felt the day I was released from prison. It didn’t take long for Vincent to find me. He stood in the doorway of my dilapidated room, his brow furrowed in distaste. “I’ve arranged an administrative position for you at St. Anne’s Medical Center. You can start tomorrow.” His tone was final, accustomed to being obeyed. It was almost funny. After all these years, he was still trying to manage my life, to fit me into his plans. “No, thank you. I can’t.” The words were out before I could stop them. “Why not? Where else are you going to go in your condition?” he demanded. “We may be divorced, but we’re still family. Stop pushing me away. Everything I do is for your own good!” For my own good? Or was it to soothe the nagging whispers of his own conscience? “I don’t need your help,” I said, my voice cold. “I just want to find a place where no one knows my name and live a quiet life. Nothing else matters to me.” “Not even your brother’s job?” I looked up. Behind his glasses, his eyes were hard and unyielding. I knew he wasn’t bluffing. 4 The next day, I reported for duty at St. Anne’s. I had barely pushed open the office door when a familiar face greeted me. Seraphina, holding a large bouquet of lilies, beamed at me. “Dr. Ross, welcome to St. Anne’s! I know you’re not practicing medicine right now, but I’m sure a woman of your talents will shine wherever you go. If you need anything at all, Vincent and I are here for you.” Her little speech had its intended effect. Eyes turned towards me, filled with a mix of curiosity and contempt. The whispers started immediately. “So that’s her, ‘The Scalpel.’ I heard she killed someone on the table. Did hard time for it.” “That’s Chief Vance’s ex-wife. She doesn’t look like much. What did he ever see in her?” “Dr. Stone is such a class act. Being so gracious to her husband’s ex. She’s a true professional.” Looking at Seraphina’s condescending smile, the acid in my stomach churned. I ignored her, walking straight to the desk with my nameplate on it. I knew exactly who I had to thank for my current situation. She followed me, placing the flowers on my desk. “Dr. Ross, Vincent told me your mother hasn’t been well. If there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask. I truly hope you find your place here at St. Anne’s.” Her every word was so dripping with false sincerity she might as well have had “saint” tattooed on her forehead. My mother, hearing I was at St. Anne’s, came for an appointment with my brother in tow. Seeing her gray hair and stooped shoulders, my eyes stung. But her gaze went straight past me to Vincent. “Vincent, my dear boy, you’ve done so much for us,” she said, her voice trembling. “First taking care of this old woman, and now having to worry about Abby too. She’s the one who made the mistake, but you and Seraphina are the ones who have to deal with the fallout. If she doesn’t learn her lesson, if she causes any more trouble, you just wash your hands of her! Let her fend for herself!” She coughed, suddenly weak. I smiled, a bitter, helpless expression. In their eyes, I would always be the stain they couldn’t wash away. 5 One evening, as I was leaving the hospital, Vincent and Seraphina intercepted me. “Dr. Ross,” Seraphina said, her voice low and conspiratorial. “I feel I should warn you. I overheard a patient today telling people that you were the one who killed his father. He knows you’ve been released. He might be looking for you. Please, be careful.” Vincent stood beside her, silent, his silence a form of consent. But I saw it—a flicker of a smirk on Seraphina’s face before she smoothed it away. As expected, for the next few days, I felt eyes on me as I walked home. Vile slogans were painted on my apartment door. Someone printed out my photograph, the face slashed through with a knife. The family’s hatred now lined the entire alleyway where I lived. It came to a head on a dark, rainy night. I was walking home after a late shift when several figures stepped out of the shadows, surrounding me. A wooden club slammed against my head. Blood, hot and sticky, streamed down my neck. “‘The Scalpel,’ my ass!” a voice spat. “Tonight, you pay for my father’s life!” The blows rained down on me, a brutal, percussive rhythm of pain. My consciousness began to fray at the edges. The smell of rain and blood was suffocating. “My father died on your table! You don’t deserve to live!” “We have Dr. Stone to thank for your address. At least you won’t die wondering why!” A hand grabbed my hair, yanking my head up. I saw the glint of a knife. So this was it. This was the end. The rain sluiced over my face, as if trying to wash away the grime of my miserable existence. A father who died cursing my name. A mother and brother who wanted me to disappear. A husband who swore forever and then betrayed me. I closed my eyes. For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of release. The knife plunged into my stomach. I collapsed, a useless heap on the wet pavement. Just as the world began to fade to black, a tall figure burst from the darkness, sprinting towards me. “Stop!” At the same moment, the wail of a familiar siren ripped through the night.

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Five years after I staged my own death, a system notification jolted me back to the life I’d left behind. My daughter, the one I had to leave in that other world, was dying. How is that possible? When I gave birth and faked my death to return home, I made my last wish crystal clear: take care of our daughter. After all, the final request of the woman you loved, your ghost of a memory, is supposed to be sacred. Clive Hawthorne swore he would protect our Cici. But the system’s explanation painted a grim picture. After I “died,” a lookalike named Jessica had wormed her way into his life. Publicly, she showered Cici with affection. Privately, she poisoned their relationship, whispering insidious suggestions in Clive’s ear. She hinted that if Cici’s birth hadn’t caused the amniotic fluid embolism, I would never have died. Cici never looked much like me to begin with. Fueled by Jessica’s venom, Clive’s affection for our daughter soured into indifference, then outright neglect. And now, Cici was on the brink of death. Accused by Jessica of breaking something of mine, she’d been forced to kneel in the freezing snow, her breathing faint and shallow. A bitter, cold laugh escaped my lips. “I knew Clive was unreliable, but I never imagined the idiot was this unreliable.” “System,” I commanded, my voice tight with fury, “send me back. Now.” A replacement, after all, is just a pale imitation. What’s a lookalike compared to the real thing, returned from the grave? … When I materialized, the scene was even worse than I’d imagined. My daughter was a small, fragile heap in the snow, her tiny body nearly swallowed by the drifts. Her face was flushed a dangerous red, and frozen tear tracks glistened like shards of ice on her cheeks. She was still murmuring, delirious. “Daddy… I didn’t… Cici didn’t break Mommy’s things. I didn’t do it.” The sight shattered me. I’ve lived my life without regrets, but my one great failing was my daughter. I thought I had secured her future, left her in the safest hands possible. I never dreamed she would be tormented like this. Eight years ago, a car crash had left me in a coma. My parents, their hair turning white overnight, were devastated. That’s when the system found me. [Successfully win the heart of Clive Hawthorne and bear his child, and you will be granted one wish.] Three years later, my mission was complete. I refused the system’s offer to stay in that world. My wish was to go home, to be with my parents. They were both gravely ill, and I needed to be there for them in their final years. Because I’d completed the mission so well, the system made me a promise: after my parents passed, I would have one chance to return. I had just buried them when the system’s alert came through, telling me my daughter was about to die. “Cici, baby, it’s okay,” I whispered, wiping the tears from my own eyes. I scooped her frigid body into my arms. “Mommy’s back. No one will ever hurt you again.” This wasn’t the time for grief. The priority was getting her to a hospital. Even after five years, the security code for the main gate worked. My fingers still remembered. But I’d barely taken two steps when a shrill voice cut through the air. “You little bitch! Did I say you could get up? You run now and I’ll tell your father. He’ll never want to see you again!” Jessica climbed out of her car, her tirade screeching to a halt the moment she saw my face. Her eyes widened, a flicker of confusion and fear in them. “Who… who are you? Why do you look so much like her?” I glanced up. She truly did look like me, about eighty percent. But her upper lip was too thin, giving her a perpetually cruel, sharp look. “Get out of my way,” I snarled. “You hurt my daughter. I’ll deal with you later.” I tried to move past her, but she grabbed my arm, her grip like a vise. Her eyes scanned my face, burning with a jealous fire. Everything she had, she owed to that resemblance. Before I could answer, her eyes widened again, but this time, the jealousy morphed into triumphant arrogance. “Of course. I should have known. You’re just some cheap knock-off who’s been under the knife! Trying to replace me? Too bad. Clive hates fakes.” I knew she was talking about my nose, the one that had been broken years ago when I took a punch for Clive. It had left a tiny, almost imperceptible imperfection. He used to love kissing that exact spot when we were in bed. Jessica’s confidence returned in a rush. She flicked a perfectly manicured nail, her chin held high. “A fake like you can try to win over this little brat, but it won’t do you any good.” Her eyes narrowed with a flash of pure malice. “Besides, once I have my own baby, this little brat won’t be necessary anymore.” A rage colder and harder than the winter air seized me. Cici’s body was growing hotter in my arms, a sure sign of a raging fever. I suppressed the urge to throttle Jessica right there. Instead, I snatched the car keys from her hand, unlocked the door, and gently placed Cici inside. “Are you insane? You can’t just steal my keys!” This time, I didn’t hold back. I snapped, my hand cracking across her face in a sharp slap. “You…!” “What do you think Clive will do,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “when he finds out you almost killed his daughter?” Jessica froze, like a hen with its neck suddenly wrung. A flicker of genuine fear crossed her face. She tormented Cici in secret and kept Clive at a distance from his daughter, but if the girl actually died, she knew Clive would never forgive her. She still hadn’t fully figured him out, hadn’t completely secured her place. Ignoring her pale, shifting expression, I jumped into the driver’s seat and sped toward the best hospital in the city. “How could you let this happen? As her parents… Malnutrition, delayed bone development, second-degree frostbite…” With every word the doctor spoke, my heart sank deeper, the weight of my guilt growing heavier. “I know,” I whispered, my voice thick. “It’s my fault. I’m a terrible mother.” The doctor sighed, his expression softening slightly. “Look, raising a child is a two-person job. You need to get her father down here. Your daughter has been through hell. She needs both of you.” After he left, I borrowed a phone from the front desk and dialed Clive’s number, my face a mask of cold fury. “Clive Hawthorne, is this how you take care of our daughter?” “Right now, I want you to get your ass down to the hospital and pay the bills.” The familiar sound of my voice made him pause. I heard the sharp intake of breath, the disbelief. “Clara?” I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yes. It’s me. I’m back.” My voice hardened. “Clive, if I hadn’t come back, you would have let our daughter die. What happened to the promise you made me when I was on my deathbed?” Silence. He remembered. I could feel it across the line. He started to explain, his voice shaky. “Clara, listen, I can…” He stopped, then let out a hollow, self-deprecating laugh. “Scammers are getting more sophisticated every day. You almost had me.” He sighed, a weary, condescending tone creeping into his voice. “I’ll let this go, just because your voice sounds like hers. But if you ever try this again, I’ll make sure you can never speak again.” I was speechless. What an idiot. Because of the system’s rules, I could never tell him the whole truth. But I had tried to prepare him, telling him over and over again not to despair if I died suddenly, that miracles could happen, that we might see each other again. I’d repeated it so often, hoping it would sink in. Clearly, it hadn’t. I didn’t have time to argue or prove myself. Cici needed me. I cut him off. “If you ever want to see Clara Vance again, get to City General Hospital.” Then I hung up. I knew he would come. Whether he believed me or not, the mention of my full name would be enough to make him show up. I rushed back to the room. As I pushed the door open, I saw Jessica yanking Cici by the hair, trying to drag her out of the hospital bed. “Stop it! What are you doing? Can’t you see she’s on an IV drip?” Jessica shot me a contemptuous look. “I’m taking her home, obviously. I can’t have people seeing her in a hospital. They’ll think I’m not taking good care of her. She’s not going to die, anyway.” Blood was backing up in Cici’s IV line. Her face was chalk-white, but she didn’t fight back. She was completely limp, resigned. My heart twisted in agony. I was terrified to fight back physically, scared of hurting Cici more in the struggle. The rage built inside me, hot and suffocating. Seeing my hesitation, Jessica sneered. “Don’t tell me you actually care about this little wretch. She’s just a brat putting on a show. She doesn’t deserve a private room this expensive. A little hot water at home and she’ll be fine.” She continued, her voice dripping with venomous pride. “She once told me she was allergic to shellfish. Please. Just a picky eater. I cured her of that nonsense by sneaking powdered shrimp into her soup. The little bitch even tried to tattle to Clive. But who was he going to believe? That woman wasn’t allergic to shellfish, so Cici had no proof. All she did was make herself look like a liar.” The stories kept coming, a cascade of casual cruelty. When Cici refused to call her ‘Mommy,’ Jessica would secretly jab her fingertips with a needle. When Cici wouldn’t tell her Clive’s personal preferences, she would find excuses to keep him away, then tell Cici it was her fault, that Daddy didn’t want to see her because she was being disobedient. “I was flawless,” Jessica boasted, her confidence soaring. “Even if Clive came back right now and this little brat tried to complain, he’d just think she was lying again. See? Look at her now. She knows better than to cross me.” She was so caught up in her monologue, so proud of how she’d broken my daughter, that she didn’t see me move. I waited for the perfect moment, then lunged, grabbing her outstretched hand and bending her fingers back with a vicious twist. “Aaargh!” As Jessica shrieked in pain, I swept Cici into my arms, sinking to the floor and cradling her close. “Cici, are you okay? Does anything hurt?” I asked frantically, my voice trembling. For a moment, she remained limp and unresponsive. Then, slowly, she lifted her head. Her vacant eyes focused on my face, and a tiny spark of light returned to them. “Mom… Mommy…” “Yes, baby, it’s Mommy,” I choked out, my heart aching with a mix of relief and sorrow. “I’m back. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” I hugged her tightly. Her little head rested against my chest, and she didn’t say another word. But soon, I felt a spreading dampness on my shirt. She was crying. Silently weeping out all the fear and pain. The realization was a knife in my gut. “It’s okay, Cici. You can cry. Let it all out. Mommy’s here to protect you now.” Our moment was shattered by Jessica’s shrill voice. “You bitch! You think a new face makes you her mother? How dare you touch me! I’m going to be Mrs. Hawthorne, the mistress of Hawthorne Corp! You’ll pay for this! I’ll destroy you!” She blocked the doorway and pulled out her phone, dialing furiously. A jolt of fear went through me. I’d acted on impulse. The world thought Clara Vance was dead. To everyone else, Jessica was the one poised to take my place. She would have people, thugs on her payroll. But I didn’t regret it. I couldn’t stand by and watch my daughter suffer for one more second. I did a quick calculation. Clive should be here soon. I pushed the hospital bed into the far corner of the room, away from the door, and spoke to Cici in a soft, soothing voice. “Cici, no matter what happens next, I want you to close your eyes and rest, okay? Don’t look. When Mommy comes to get you, we’re going home.” Cici stared at me, her eyes wide. Then, fresh tears streamed down her face. “Mommy, don’t go. Don’t go.” Her plea squeezed my heart until it felt like a crumpled piece of paper. “I won’t leave, baby. Mommy’s going to stay with you forever.” Just as I managed to calm her down, the men Jessica had called arrived. “There she is,” Jessica hissed, her face contorted with hate. “Now you’ll learn what happens when you cross me.” My stomach clenched. I grabbed the metal IV stand next to the bed, gripping it like a weapon. “You see her?” Jessica spat at the men. “She loves that little brat so much, right? So why don’t you help her get pregnant? Let her have babies until she dies from it!” Five burly men filled the doorway, making the spacious room feel cramped and suffocating. My eyes locked onto the leader, and a spark of hope ignited within me. I knew him. He used to work for me. “Leo, it’s me, Clara Vance,” I said, my voice steady. “Don’t ask how I’m back. Just know that if you touch me, you know what the consequences will be.” He hesitated. I saw the doubt in his eyes. “Leo, are you serious?” Jessica scoffed. “You’re not falling for that plastic face, are you? Use that thick skull of yours for a second. Clara Vance is dead. Dead people don’t come back. Think about your mother in the hospital. You do this for me, and I’ll give you more than enough money to take care of her.” Leo’s hand tightened around the stun baton he was holding. I knew it was useless to say anything more. I was just thankful for one thing. Back when the Hawthorne family was a major target, Clive was constantly at risk of being kidnapped. To protect him, I’d learned self-defense. It should be enough to hold them off until he arrived. I overestimated myself. Leo had been my bodyguard for a reason. In less than five minutes, my arms were pinned behind my back and I was forced to my knees. Jessica crouched in front of me, grabbing my chin. She slapped me hard across the face. “Still so tough, you bitch? Still so proud?” she sneered. “You paid for a new face and thought you could be Clara Vance? I’m going to destroy that face today. I’ll make sure you never have a chance to replace me again!” She took the stun baton from Leo, switched it on, and aimed it at my cheek. I tried to stall, mentally counting the seconds until Clive should arrive. But it was no use. Jessica advanced, the electric hum of the baton growing louder. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the searing pain. I can’t scream, I told myself. I can’t let Cici hear me scream. The baton came down. “No!” My eyes flew open. A tiny body had thrown itself in front of me, and now it was crumpling to the floor.

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1 Victoria Greene, the city’s elite darling, was famous for her one-month flings and zero commitment. A line of suitors hoping to lock her down stretched across the city. In a good mood, she’d gift a mansion; in a bad mood, a million-dollar goodbye check. Everyone laughed, calling me the most humiliated kept man alive—and they believed I’d endure it forever. Until Victoria brought home Liam Anderson, an ordinary college student who broke her monthly rotation rule. She gave me two choices: accept an open marriage with Liam as an equal partner, or divorce her, take half her wealth, and leave. Her friends watched eagerly, expecting me to swallow my pride and stay for the money. But I didn’t hesitate. I chose to leave. In my past life, I chose tolerance. Liam only pushed for more—forbidding Victoria from touching me or having my children. Old and alone, I watched his family grow. Even after Victoria’s death, her will ignored me completely, leaving everything to Liam. I died lonely, bearing only the empty title of her husband. Reborn, I finally understood: take the money and go. This time, I wanted nothing to do with her. I picked up the divorce papers, read every word, and reached for the pen. Victoria, surprisingly, spoke, a tightness in her voice she herself might not have noticed. “Alex Jupp, are you sure? Once you sign, there’ll be no turning back.” My hand didn’t falter. The pen scratched a clean arc across the paper. I signed. “I’ll pack my things and leave now.” Why would I regret it? In my past life, I foolishly believed she brought Liam home as a new form of torment. I naively thought, after all these years, there had to be some affection between us. How laughable. She and Liam had two children in three years, living a life of devoted affection until their old age. And I? I was nothing more than an awkward fixture in that house, a silent ornament for half a lifetime, the subject of whispered jokes for decades. It wasn’t until my twilight years that I overheard her and Liam talking in a hospital room. She said the dramatic scene, the “affair” I supposedly had with a disheveled housemaid, had been entirely her doing. “I was just tired of him, and I didn’t want a messy divorce.” Her clouded eyes held not a shred of guilt. “So I engineered that whole thing. That way, whatever I did next, it would look perfectly justified.” So that was it. No wonder my desperate explanations were always met with her cold disbelief. Because she knew the truth all along. She didn’t love me, yet she used a fabricated crime to trap me for fifty years. She could have ended it cleanly, but instead, she chose to slowly carve me to death with a blunt knife. I looked at her, at the young yet still chillingly indifferent face before me, and felt nothing but a churning, seething hatred where love once resided. She stared blankly at the signed agreement, her eyes wide with bewilderment. Outside, the furtive sounds of eavesdropping abruptly ceased. The next second, my “esteemed” in-laws burst into the room, beaming. My mother-in-law grabbed Liam’s hand, scrutinizing him, clucking with approval. “Oh, it’s so much better with young people! So much vitality!” My father-in-law, who usually glowered at me, was smiling benignly now. He cast a pointed glance my way. “Finally, we’ve gotten rid of the dead weight. How many years has it been? Not even an heir.” Liam ducked his head shyly, feigning modesty. “Uncle, don’t say that. I’m not that much younger than Alex.” He paused, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Actually, Victoria is already a month pregnant. It’s early, so we hadn’t wanted to say anything.” I raised an eyebrow. Of course. The familiar thinly veiled jabs, the sickening tone. But this time, I felt nothing. For years, to be the perfect kept husband, I toiled like a dog at Greene Corp during the day. At night, I returned home to serve these demanding, antiquated relatives. I was barely thirty, and my temples were already streaked with gray. Yes, I looked old. I turned and walked into the bedroom, beginning to pack my meager belongings. My mind was already racing, planning where to go first for a well-deserved break after the money came through. I didn’t notice Victoria follow me in. “It’s late. No need to move out immediately. Stay another night.” “Isn’t that villa on the West End still empty? You can stay there for now. I’ll come visit when I have time.” “Alex, I know you love me. Don’t be childish and spiteful.” She gently placed a hand on her flat stomach. “But a proper title… I truly can’t give you that anymore. I can’t let my child be born a bastard.” I didn’t reply. I simply picked up my suitcase, walked past her, and headed straight for the door. “There’s nothing left to say between us. I’m glad to be divorcing you.” “If you have any conscience left, just send me the money you owe me. Quickly.” The night wind, carrying a dusting of fine snow, bit at my skin. It was icy, bone-chilling, yet it couldn’t extinguish the fire that burned brighter and hotter within me. 2 Victoria Greene’s efficiency was, as always, impressive. When I woke up, three hundred million dollars had landed in my bank account. The first thing I did with the money was book the most luxurious private club in the city. Haircut, full spa, the works. The haggard, gray-haired man in the mirror was gone. In his place was a sharp-eyed young man with defiant red hair. I had just changed into fresh clothes when my good friend, Ethan Hayes, called. He immediately launched into an astonished shout. “Alex Jupp! What’s going on with you and Victoria? Are you insane? Has the whole world gone mad?!” I held the phone away from my ear, asking lazily, “What’s up?” “What’s up? Don’t you read the news?!” Ethan’s voice was filled with disbelief. “The headlines are all about Victoria Greene taking that pretty boy to a gala! She stood in front of all the reporters and declared that kid her only husband! Said they’re getting married immediately!” He lowered his voice, a hint of cautious concern in it. “Your stuck-up in-laws were there too, saying that kid is ‘worthy’! Buddy, are you okay?” All the public acknowledgment I had never received, all the validation I had yearned for half my life, Victoria had now bestowed upon another man. “I’m fine,” I said, admiring my new look. “We’re divorced.” “Divorced…?” Ethan couldn’t believe it. He’d watched me love Victoria for over a decade, watched me humble myself, abandon my self-respect, and beg like a dog for that marriage. I didn’t offer any further explanation. I just chuckled softly. “Free tonight? Come out for a drink. My treat.” At the city’s most extravagant bar, the VIP booth was laden with bottles of the most expensive champagne. Several young, beautiful hostesses hovered around me, eagerly pouring drinks. Ethan’s eyes widened. “Holy hell, now I believe you. You’ve really moved on. This isn’t like the old you.” The old me, desperate to prove to Victoria that I wasn’t after her money, scrutinized every purchase for its cost-effectiveness. I was terrified she’d think I was wasteful or didn’t care for the family. Now, I sat in the opulent private room, looking at the man reflected in the polished glass. Defiant red hair, a perfectly tailored custom suit. Ethan raised his glass and clinked it against mine with a loud thud. “You’re acting like the Alex Jupp from back in our top business school days – the once-in-a-century genius.” He chugged a large gulp of champagne, fuming on my behalf. “How many venture capitalists were fighting over you back then? If you’d started your own company, you would have crushed Greene Corp years ago!” “You spent over a decade being their glorified dog, and this is all you get in a divorce? Buddy, I really don’t think you got what you deserved.” More than a decade. In my past life, Greene Corp, under my management, had topped the national charts as the most powerful enterprise. Yet, in my old age, I couldn’t even afford a box of painkillers. I was eventually thrown out by Liam’s “dutiful” children, dying of illness beside a dumpster on a winter night. The business empire I’d built with my life’s effort had all become a wedding dress for Liam and his offspring. The thought made me drain my glass. The sharp, burning liquid scorched my throat, but it ignited a furious fire in my heart. Let them all see. Let them see if they can thrive without Alexander Jupp.

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On my sixteenth birthday, I bought myself the best cake I could afford. But that day, before I could even take a single bite, my warring parents signed their divorce papers right in front of me. So, on my wedding day, I told my wife, Susan, “If you ever want a divorce, just get me a birthday cake.” She held me close and whispered, “Don’t worry. The word ‘birthday’ will never be spoken in our house again.” Seven years later, on Susan’s birthday, her young assistant prepared a surprise party for her. My wife slapped him hard across his smooth, handsome face and fired him on the spot. That day, I was certain I had chosen the right woman to spend my life with. Until three months later. On my birthday. I discovered that the “fired” assistant had been quietly promoted to her personal secretary. And he was the one who personally delivered a custom-made birthday cake to our door. When I called to confront her, her voice was cold and distant. “Dylan meant well, Anthony. Don’t be a buzzkill.” I stood there for a moment, stunned into silence, and then I hung up. So my parents weren’t wrong after all. A birthday cake is meant to be served with divorce papers. That’s how it was always supposed to be. 1 Dylan left the cake and a single piece of paper on the table before striding out, his chin held high in triumph. A pregnancy test report. I stared at the date on the report, and a cold silence settled over me. Three months ago, our company was at a critical stage in developing a new drug. Susan told me she’d had an abortion, sacrificing our child for the sake of the company’s future. But three months later, she was pregnant with another man’s child. Gestation period: twelve weeks. While I was pulling all-nighters at the lab, perfecting our new drug, Susan was bringing Dylan home. The sofa, the bathroom, the balcony… even in front of our wedding photo, they’d made them their battlefield. This home, once my sanctuary, now made me want to vomit. The light in the entryway flickered on. Susan stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. She saw the cake on the dining table and her brow furrowed. Then, she wrapped her arms around me from behind. She dangled a watch in front of my face, her voice as gentle as ever, but her clothes carried the scent of the cologne Dylan always wore. “It’s the latest from Vacheron Constantin. Do you like it?” she murmured. “It’s after midnight now, so it’s not technically a birthday gift.” My eyes fixed on the watch, and I froze. I don’t know much about luxury goods, but I knew this watch. Dylan had been wearing the exact same one earlier today, flaunting it like a trophy. Was it the same model, or the same one? Did it even matter? I pushed down the acrid bile rising in my throat and turned to face her, my voice calm. “We need to talk.” Susan assumed I was still sulking. A flash of annoyance crossed her face. “Dylan was just trying to surprise you. He didn’t know you don’t celebrate your birthday. I’ve already punished him for it.” “Anthony, can you just stop being dramatic?” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m exhausted.” She made it sound like I was the one being unreasonable. Before I could say another word, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, and a smile instantly lit up her face. She eagerly tapped out a reply as she walked into the bedroom. Watching her go, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Ten years together, seven years of marriage. We’d started with nothing and built an empire. But the Susan I knew, the girl who used to whisper sweet nothings to me all night, was gone. This was Susan Sterling, the CEO. And her time was no longer mine. I pulled the divorce papers I’d already drafted from under the coffee table. I glanced down at my own hands, the fingers slightly warped and scarred from years of chemical experiments. I smiled again, this time with a sense of release. I picked up my phone and called my old professor. “Professor Davis,” I said. “That top-secret project you mentioned before… is there still a spot for me?” There was a stunned silence on the other end, followed by a burst of pure joy. “Of course! Absolutely!” “But Anthony, the security clearance for this one is extremely high. If you join, you’re looking at a five-year commitment, minimum. Will your wife agree to that? Without you, your company’s R&D would collapse.” I signed my name on the divorce papers, my voice firm. “Professor, I’m getting a divorce.” The line erupted with a chorus of excited shouts. It was my old lab mates. “We always knew that Sterling woman was no good! The love-struck genius finally sees the light!” “Anthony, get back here, man! The old crew has been waiting for you!” “Don’t sweat it, Anthony. A woman will only slow down your research progress.” The professor shushed them with a gruff affection, then spoke again, his tone now formal and serious. “Dr. Warren. Project 707 officially orders you to report for duty immediately. You have two days to arrange your personal affairs.” After hanging up, I rose and went into the guest room. I’d never slept in it before. But now, it was the only clean place in the house. 2 The next day, I didn’t wake up until one in the afternoon. Three months of non-stop, high-intensity research had left me mentally drained. For the first time in a long while, I had slept soundly. I opened my phone to a flood of notifications. Everyone was celebrating the successful completion of the new drug’s first phase trials. Susan was tagging me in every group chat, sending out a storm of celebratory cash gifts. Reading through the endless praise and congratulations, I felt nothing. After lying in bed for a while, I finally got up, divorce papers in hand, and went out. The living room was empty. Susan was gone. On the coffee table was a ticket to see The Weeknd, my favorite artist. And a sticky note: “Seven o’clock tonight. See you there.” I understood. This was my reward. My treat for a job well done. I thought about it for a moment and decided to go. Not to reconcile, but to finalize the end. After all, seven years ago, Susan had proposed to me at a concert. We got our marriage license the very next day. Now, we would discuss our divorce at a concert. And get a different kind of license the day after. It felt fitting. At five, I put the divorce papers and the ticket in my bag, threw on the first thing I found, and left. In the past, whenever I had a date with Susan, I would spend two hours getting ready. I was terrible at choosing clothes and styling my hair, a process that was equal parts agony and joy. Not anymore. And I certainly didn’t need to wait for her, starving, so we could eat together. I could just grab a bite downstairs. I arrived at the venue at 6:50. I sent Susan a text. No reply. I shook my head. Instead of waiting for her like I always did, I got in line and went inside. Just then, a notification popped up on my phone. A social media post from Dylan, specifically tagging me. “No concert, but I’ve got the amusement park. The view tonight is amazing!” The photo was of his hand holding a woman’s on a Ferris wheel. You couldn’t see his face, but I recognized the ring on her finger. Susan wasn’t coming. So even the concert ticket was meant for another man. It didn’t matter. She had betrayed our seven-year marriage. Why would I care about one concert? As long as she signed the papers, who she slept with was her own damn business. 3 After the concert, I walked home. I passed a familiar street and stopped. The old dumpling shop where Susan and I used to go every day to save a dollar had been replaced by a trendy artisan bakery. That’s when it truly hit me. People change, and so do places. Even our most beautiful memories had been eroded by time. It was one in the morning when I got back. The living room light was on. Susan was sitting on the sofa, texting. When she saw me, her brow furrowed and she rushed over. “What happened to you? You didn’t answer your phone, you didn’t reply to my texts. Do you know you were almost out all night?” She was waiting for me? But for the past three months, I’d come home later than this every single night. Maybe it was because I wasn’t working late today. That meant she couldn’t bring Dylan home. Fine. After the divorce, Dylan could move in permanently. I pulled my hand from her grasp and said flatly, “It’s been a while since I went out. My phone died at the concert.” At the mention of the concert, a guilty look flashed across Susan’s face. She remembered she had stood me up. Her lips pressed into a thin line. She awkwardly picked up a box from the side and opened it with a flourish. I glanced inside. It was a suit. After we got our license, we were too poor for a proper wedding. We just had dinner with a few close friends. Not being able to walk her down the aisle in a suit had been a lingering regret of mine for years. But that was then. Seeing my lack of excitement, Susan quickly added, as if she’d just remembered something, “I’ve booked the church for tomorrow night. We can finally make up for what we missed.” I looked at her and managed a small smile. I pulled the divorce papers from my bag. “Instead of this, I’d rather you sign this.” 4 Susan took the papers, staring at me in confusion. Then, she burst out laughing. “Anthony, you’ve really changed. You’re not just all about your experiments anymore. You’re learning to be jealous, to ask for gifts.” “But I’m happy about it,” she continued, her tone magnanimous. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” As a show of her generosity, she flipped straight to the signature page without even reading the contents and scrawled her name. As she handed the signed papers back to me, she seemed overcome with emotion and leaned in to kiss me. I was trying to figure out how to pull away when her phone rang, shattering the moment. It was Dylan. Susan impatiently declined the call. As she moved to embrace me again, the phone rang once more. She opened her mouth to explain, but I spoke first. “You should take it. What if it’s something important?” A weak voice came from the other end. Dylan had sprained his ankle and couldn’t move on his own. He was calling Susan for help. After she hung up, she looked at me, her guilt palpable. “Um… Dylan’s in a bit of a situation. He can’t handle it alone. I think I need to go.” “Then you should go. Don’t keep him waiting.” My understanding seemed to stun her. She gripped my hand, desperate to understand what was wrong with me. But her phone rang again. Finally, with me watching her, Susan let go of my hand. Her voice was full of emotion. “I’m looking forward to our wedding tomorrow. It will be our moment.” Then, she hurried out the door. I placed the divorce papers on top of the wedding dress she had laid out and began to pack my things. Tomorrow, I would be gone. And Susan Sterling would never see me again. 5 Susan didn’t come home that night. I didn’t ask, and I didn’t care. Early the next morning, the car sent by the Professor was already waiting for me. Before I left, I had one last stop to make: the office. I had to retrieve the photo of me and my grandmother. After my parents divorced, she was the one who raised me. It was the only photo I had of us together. I had to take it with me. The moment I stepped into the company, I was met with strange looks from my colleagues. When I reached my office, I understood why. Dylan was sitting in my chair, a look of pure provocation on his face. “Anthony,” he said with a smirk. “Susan decided I should take over the post-launch phase of the new drug. She picked out this office for me especially.” “I think it’s quite nice. You don’t mind, do you?” Putting a rookie in charge of such a crucial project. Susan was really spoiling him. Or was she expecting me to stick around and mentor him? I looked at him and smiled. “Be my guest. I’m leaving now.” My calm response disappointed many of the colleagues who were ready to stand up for me. I was Susan’s husband, the head of R&D. To be pushed around by a junior like this… it was pathetic. But the driver was waiting downstairs. He’d already done me a favor by bringing me here. Wasting more time bickering with Dylan would be ungrateful. As I was leaving with my grandmother’s photo, Susan appeared. She saw me putting the framed picture into my bag, and her face tightened. “Where are you going?” “I…” Dylan cut in before I could answer. “He’s clearing out the office for me. I like this one.” Susan rushed over and grabbed my arm. “No. This office has always been yours. No one can…” I cut her off. “If he likes it, he can have it.” I’d already submitted my resignation. All it needed was her approval. And even if she didn’t approve, it didn’t matter. It was just a formality. I would be automatically terminated in a month. Just like our marriage. It would be over in a month. Susan stood frozen, her expression unreadable. She only snapped out of it after I was gone. She shoved Dylan, who was happily humming and rearranging the office, out the door. Then, in front of everyone, she slapped him across the face. “I warned you. Anthony is my husband and the head of R&D. Without him guiding the project, the post-launch phase will completely stall. You will show him respect at all times.” Her voice was laced with fury. “Have I been too lenient with you? Did it give you the wrong idea? How dare you provoke him?” Downstairs, I received a text from her. [Seven o’clock tonight. Southside Chapel. Don’t be late.] [I booked our honeymoon to Bali. We leave tomorrow.] [We’ll come back as soon as I’m pregnant.] I shook my head, took out the SIM card, snapped it in two, and threw it in the trash. Don’t disgust me. I got into the car waiting for me and headed to the airport. At seven o’clock that evening, Susan Sterling, dressed in a wedding gown, stood at the entrance of a chapel. 6 Why a church wedding? Years ago, while reading the Bible, I came across a line that resonated with me. “What God has joined together, let no one separate.” The church upheld the sanctity of a lifelong, monogamous marriage. When I chose to be with Susan, I had nothing. No house, no car. We lived in a leaky basement apartment. I still remember what my father said to me. “If she really loves you, why is she making you quit a great job to struggle with her?” I was young and arrogant, and I retorted, “We just graduated! Of course we don’t have money! Susan is good to me, and she’s ambitious. We’ll build our own life. We won’t be like you and Mom!” My mother’s affair and my parents’ subsequent divorce was a thorn in my side, and in my father’s. On the plane, I replayed it all in my mind, trying to understand how we had ended up like this. Maybe my father was right. When Susan was young, poor, and full of romantic ideals, she met a boy who would do anything for her. Of course she would choose him. He was smart, hardworking, cooked, cleaned, and took care of her every need. Who wouldn’t want a free, brilliant caretaker? Once she had achieved success, the first thing she did was go looking for her ideal man. If it weren’t for the company needing me to develop the new drug, there would be no church wedding, no talk of a honeymoon. In seven years of marriage, she had never once tried to fulfill any of the promises she’d made. The concert was a perfect example. She did it because she needed me. Not because she loved me. It was all just a ploy to tie me down. But I wasn’t that love-struck young man anymore. I closed my eyes and could still see it clearly. The day we got our marriage license, I immediately went with Susan to meet a client. On the way, we passed a church. The flowers planted along the path were in full bloom, their fragrance thick in the air. I stopped our bicycle, staring at the newlyweds inside. Susan waved a hand in front of my face. “Anthony, what is it? Do you like it?” I smiled and shook my head. Of course I liked it. How could I not?

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Ten years ago, my wife carved my brain from my skull and sealed my shattered body in a cryogenic vault. All because I was the prime suspect in a notorious, large-scale human trafficking case. A decade after my death, she had my brain thawed for a public trial. A new technology could now dissolve human brains to extract memories, the color of the resulting solution indicating the person’s moral alignment: black for evil, crimson for good. On the day of the trial, a giant screen in Civic Plaza broadcasted the memories live to a massive, waiting crowd. “Simon Fairchild was a monster! That degenerate tortured trafficked children. He wasn’t even human!” “He framed his own wife and nearly got her entire squad killed! The man was pure scum!” “I’d love to crack open that bastard’s skull and see just how black his soul is. Probably as rotten as the rest of him!” The crowd seethed, a chorus of curses calling for my annihilation, wishing they could tear me limb from limb and scatter my ashes to the wind. Amid the uproar, the black cloth covering the vat of solution was pulled away. The sight of the vibrant crimson that signified ultimate good left everyone speechless. 1 “What… how is that possible? How could a man as vile as Simon Fairchild not have a black solution?” “Did the coroner mess up? Maybe they mixed him up with some other John Doe.” Elara Rhodes frowned at the glaring crimson, ordering her team to re-verify everything. Suddenly, an arm wrapped around her waist. She turned to see Bob, the man who was now her husband, holding her close. Her expression softened at the sight of him. “What are you doing here? You just had surgery. You should be resting.” Bob didn’t answer, his gaze fixed thoughtfully on the crimson liquid. “It’s all in the past, Elara. Why drag it all up again?” After a moment, he added in a small, wounded voice, “You’re not… thinking about him, are you? I mean, you and my brother were married once.” Elara quickly wrapped her arms around him, placing his hand on her stomach and whispering a reassurance. “That animal? I wish I could have been the one to cut him into a thousand pieces.” “The only ones I love now are you and our child.” “But his crimes were immense, the list of his victims endless. I just want the world to see the full extent of his evil, to have his name cursed for eternity.” Only then did Bob seem content, pulling her into a tight embrace. While the technicians worked, the crowd buzzed with talk of the decade-old case. “I remember that case. The ringleader was a syndicate boss, Morgana Shaw. Simon Fairchild was her kept man.” “Simon’s father, Marcus Fairchild, was a corporate shark with mob ties. Father and son were two sides of the same corrupt coin.” “But Marcus’s adopted son, Bob, he’s different. He’s spent years supporting the victims’ families, trying to atone for his father’s sins.” “Goes to show you, it’s not all about genes.” The case was infamous. No one could accept the crimson solution, and they clamored for the coroner to confirm the results. The coroner looked exasperated. “If you want to know if these are Simon Fairchild’s memories, just watch the screen.” The dark screen in the plaza flickered to life. My face appeared. The agony of my dissolving brain felt like my very soul was being set ablaze. The sight of my face only stoked the crowd’s fury, their venomous curses echoing through the plaza. Elara’s expression mirrored their rage. I watched as the eyes that once held me like a precious treasure now burned with hatred. My dead heart ached with a phantom pain. The Simon on the screen was only twenty. He wore a crisp white shirt, riding a bicycle down a tree-lined campus path with Elara on the back. The sun was brilliant, but the young man’s smile was brighter. Knowing the dangers of her job, I placed a protective charm I’d gone to great lengths to acquire around her neck. She accepted it solemnly, then surprised me by producing a delicate silver ring and slipping it onto my finger. “Officer Rhodes, is this a proposal?” I teased, leaning closer. Elara blushed and looked down. I chuckled at her flustered expression, then leaned in and captured her lips with mine. The two of us on the screen were so happy. Even now, watching that moment of pure bliss, Elara’s composure wavered. Bob shifted uncomfortably, forcing a note of pity into his voice. “It’s a shame she didn’t cherish such happy days, choosing instead to become the plaything of a syndicate boss…” He trailed off, but his words were enough to snap Elara out of her reverie. She looked at him with gentle eyes. “If it weren’t for his heartlessness, I never would have known how good you are,” she said softly. “I never would have found true happiness.” Bob smiled, satisfied, and drew her into his arms, his hands resting protectively on her belly. They whispered to each other, lost in their own world, as my memories continued to play. 2 At twenty-two, I stumbled in my tuxedo and fell to the ground in front of the police headquarters. I remember that day. It was supposed to be my wedding day. But Elara wasn’t wearing the custom-made, million-dollar gown. She was in her police uniform, snapping a pair of gleaming handcuffs onto my father’s wrists. The romantic wedding venue was swarmed by police, white roses crushed underfoot. My eyes were bloodshot as I grabbed her arm, demanding to know why. She just wrenched her hand away, leaving me alone amidst the wreckage of our wedding. On the way to the station, my father died of a heart attack. I chased her to the headquarters, only to be surrounded. They tore at my clothes, clawed at my face. Rotten eggs and wilted cabbage rained down on me. Someone threw the first punch, and the mob ignited like a powder keg. Fists and clubs rained down on me. Each blow was laced with a deep, personal hatred. A heavy pipe slammed into my lower back, and with a sickening crack, I heard my own spine break. I was tossed aside like a broken doll, my blood staining the pavement… The scene was so brutal that a flicker of conflict crossed Elara’s face. The crowd had fallen silent, but one man’s voice rang out. “My child was one of the ones they trafficked! He suffered hell before he was rescued! That bastard’s father laundered money for those scumbags. He got what he deserved!” “Yeah! He deserved it! Killing him would’ve been too good for him!” The plaza erupted again. On the screen, I was forced to my knees, my head pressed against the sun-baked asphalt until I finally passed out. Floating in this ethereal space, I watched my past self’s agony, and my very soul trembled. The scene changed. We were outside the courthouse. My face was a cold mask as I tore our marriage certificate in two. Elara looked devastated. “Simon, what your father did has nothing to do with you. I don’t want to divorce you.” “Trust me,” she pleaded. “Once this is all over, I’ll be the same as before.” I cut her off with a sneer full of scorn and hatred. “Officer Rhodes, I was the heir to a fortune. You killed my father, you ruined me, and you still have the delusion that we can be together?” “I used to be somebody! People bowed when they saw me!” I spat. “I had luxury cars, beautiful women! I’d never been with a girl like you before, so I thought I’d try something new. And you actually thought I was serious? That this was true love?” “Look at this cheap little thing you gave me,” I said, yanking the silver ring from my finger and throwing it to the ground. “It disgusts me to even wear it.” This memory made Elara’s face contort with an ugly discomfort. Bob held her, his voice a soft, sympathetic sigh. “My brother only ever saw money. He could never recognize what was truly precious. I believe a true heart is what matters most.” Someone in the crowd snorted. “That shallow trust-fund baby. He spent his whole life enjoying his father’s blood money. What would he know about real feelings?” “He shamelessly became a trafficking boss’s boy toy later. She treated him like a dog!” A wave of derisive laughter swept through the plaza. The scene shifted again, this time to the presidential suite of a high-end nightclub. A line of muscular male models stood before us. I was among them, dressed in revealing clothes. The syndicate boss, Morgana Shaw, surveyed us, her face an emotionless mask. “If you can hold your liquor, you stay. The rest of you, get out.” I downed two bottles of whiskey, one after the other. I could barely stand, but I refused to leave. Morgana’s expression didn’t change. She suddenly smashed a bottle, picked up a shard of glass, and tossed it at my feet. “You want to be my man? You want to make money?” she said, her voice flat. “Carve my name into your skin.” “Morgana Shaw.” I didn’t hesitate. I plunged the glass into my chest, carving her name, letter by bloody letter. Blood streamed down my torso, pooling on the floor. My entire body was shaking. But when I looked up at her, my lips twisted into a seductive smile that never reached my eyes. “Crawl to me,” Morgana commanded in that same deadpan tone. I lowered myself to the floor. And like a dog, I crawled to Morgana Shaw, becoming her kept man, a member of a human trafficking organization. Bob made a disgusted gesture, as if I were something utterly foul. “How could my brother debase himself like that for money?” The thought that she had once given her heart to such a man made Elara sick. Her brow furrowed in revulsion. The crowd was just as scornful. “The solution has to be wrong! How could a man that filthy have a pure crimson solution?” “That pathetic dog deserved to die!” “Selling his soul for money to traffic kids. He’s worse than an animal. A slow, painful death would be too kind.” “Keep it playing! We want to see how the bastard gets what’s coming to him!” 3 The coroner ignored the shouts and continued to play my memories. The scene showed me as a core member of the trafficking ring, strolling casually past a group of terrified, kidnapped children. I suddenly extended a hand, the sharp edge of my ring glinting, and slashed a deep, bloody line across a little girl’s beautiful face. She screamed in agony. I paid her no mind, turning my attention to a sturdy-looking boy whose eyes were wide with fear. “Can you swim?” I asked. The boy, confused, nodded. “What about with your hands and feet tied?” I grinned maliciously. I bound him with thick rope and kicked him into the river. Later that night, Morgana whipped me with a barbed lash. I knelt on the floor, begging her for mercy. She watched me coldly. “I let you have your fun, Simon. But to kill one of them? Do you have any idea how much that boy’s organs were worth?” I shrugged nonchalantly. “How was I to know he was so weak?” Morgana’s face darkened, and the whip struck harder. “Mr. Lee and his friends have… particular tastes. They like them young and untouched. I had the perfect girl for them, and you dared to ruin her face!” My back was a mess of raw, bleeding flesh. Hissing in pain, I still managed a sycophantic smile. “What’s the fun in a little girl? I know far more ways to please a man than she does.” Morgana let out a dry laugh. “I never would have guessed. The former golden boy of the city’s elite has quite a few hidden talents.” Covered in fresh wounds, I walked into a room full of leering, corpulent men. Their eyes devoured me. Instead of flinching, I walked right up to them, a welcoming smile on my face. The coroner quickly paused the feed, applying a digital filter before resuming the broadcast. A voice from the back of the crowd piped up. “The rope looked a little loose. Maybe the boy didn’t die?” “And the girl, her face was ruined, but at least she’s alive.” The suggestions were immediately shot down. “Are you kidding? They got lucky. Simon was trying to kill them.” “He had no mercy, not even for children! The man was a monster!” “And look how he throws himself at those men. He’s nothing but a whore.” “Don’t insult whores. Some of them have no choice. Look at him, he’s enjoying it. It’s disgusting!” The curses flew thick and fast. Bob’s eyes welled with tears, his voice choked with emotion. “How could my brother be so cruel? It’s just… inhuman.” Elara gently wiped his tears away. “Bob, you’re too good. You could never understand someone as rotten as Simon Fairchild.” “A man like him deserved to be erased. I dissected him, dissolved his brain, and had his body incinerated. Now, not even a speck of his dust remains in this world.” Before Bob’s tears had dried, his own face appeared on the screen. In the dark of night, I tossed a bag to him. “Same as always. Distribute the money inside to the victims’ families.” The crowd stared in disbelief. Why would this monster suddenly develop a conscience and give money to the families he’d helped destroy? Elara’s brow furrowed as she looked at Bob. “Is this true? You never told me about this.” Bob’s eyes reddened again. “My brother was always malicious. And later… he contracted a disease. I was terrified he might have intentionally contaminated the money with the virus to hurt people.” Elara was silent for a moment, an unsettling feeling creeping over her. “Would Simon really do something so petty? Besides, a virus can’t survive long outside the body without special preservation.” At her words, tears streamed down Bob’s face. “I don’t know anything about that! I was just so scared someone else would get hurt! Are you doubting me, Elara? I burned all the money. I had to.” His grief was so profound that Elara chided herself for her suspicion. The crowd quickly came to his defense. “The media reported on what Bob Fairchild did! He voluntarily surrendered all of the Fairchild family assets and has been using his own wages to support the victims’ families.” “A man that kind wouldn’t lie. He was just trying to keep everyone safe.” “Exactly! Who knows what kind of sick trick a monster like Simon would pull? Burning the money was the right thing to do!” With everyone on Bob’s side, Elara let the matter drop. Hidden from the crowd, Bob let out a quiet sigh of relief. The memory continued. I pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to him. “You have to give this to Elara. It’s important!” Watching the screen, Elara’s gaze snapped back to Bob, her suspicion returning full force. She had never seen that note.

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Filming for the new series had just begun when I got a call from my dad. He wanted to set me up on a blind date. The guy was apparently the total package—handsome, charming, and had just snagged the award for Best Director at an international film festival. I was still debating whether to meet him when my phone blew up with notifications from the production’s group chat. “Zoe, you won!” “You got the grand prize in the kick-off raffle! A quarter of a million dollars!” Before I even had a chance to celebrate, the director’s assistant, a man named Mills, was standing in front of me. “Hand it over,” he demanded. I stared at him, completely bewildered. “Hand what over?” Mills shoved me hard, a nasty smirk spreading across his face. “Don’t play dumb with me, Yang.” “Mr. Ritchie made it clear. If you don’t hand over that lottery ticket today, you can say goodbye to your leading role.” I froze for a second, then pulled out my phone and dialed the number my dad had given me for the blind date. “Your assistant tells me you’re planning on replacing me?” 1 After graduating from a top film school, I spent three solid years as an extra on the studio circuit, grinding away to hone my craft. Now, after finally landing a lead role through sheer effort, I was about to lose it all over a lottery ticket. And the biggest twist? The director of this production was the very man my dad wanted me to meet. “I’m busy. Get to the point,” the voice on the other end of the line snapped, dripping with impatience. “Mr. Ritchie, your assistant seems to think that if I don’t hand over my winning lottery ticket, my position as the female lead is…” He cut me off before I could finish. “He’s right. Any other questions?” I was stunned into silence. Are all famous directors this arrogant? Seeing my call had failed, Mills’s face split into a triumphant grin. “Well, well, Miss Yang. I thought you might actually know Mr. Ritchie. Turns out he couldn’t care less about you. I’d just hand over the ticket if I were you. Plenty of other actresses on this set are dying for a shot at this role.” He was convinced I had no connections, and he piled on the threats and empty promises. “Does your director’s team have any principles at all?” I shot back. “You gave me the ticket. Now that it’s a winner, you want it back? You want to have your cake and eat it too, is that it?” I pointed up at the security camera mounted on the ceiling. “That thing is recording, you know. If you don’t back off right now, I’m calling the cops.” The threat of police didn’t faze him in the slightest. In fact, it only made him bolder. “Save your breath,” he sneered. “Everyone on this set works for Mr. Ritchie. Who do you think the police are going to believe?” Before I could react, he snatched the phone out of my hand. “Just give it up, Miss Yang! Hand over the ticket, and the lead role is still yours. It’s that simple.” In all my years working here, I’d been nothing but professional. I never once played the diva, despite my father being one of the richest men in the country. Now, this crew was ready to toss me aside for a damn lottery ticket. A hot coil of fury tightened in my gut. “What isn’t mine, I don’t fight for,” I said, my voice low and steady. “But what is mine, no one will take from me.” A wave of gasps rippled through the crew members gathered around us. “My god, she’s got some nerve. Defying Mr. Ritchie? She’ll be blacklisted from the industry.” “It’s just a lottery ticket! Isn’t a lead role a hundred times more valuable?” “Seriously. If it were me, I’d give them the ticket. This role could make her a star overnight!” As the whispers grew louder, Mills’s smirk widened. “You hear that, Miss Yang? The choice is yours. Become a star, or go back to being a nobody. You’d better think carefully.” His threats were laughable. I didn’t even have to think about it. “No need to consider.” I met his gaze, a defiant smile playing on my lips. “The lottery ticket, and the lead role. I’m taking both.” “You little bitch, are you messing with me?” he snarled. Cursing wasn’t enough for him. He rolled up his sleeves and lunged at me. Drawing on years of stunt work and fight choreography, I sidestepped him effortlessly. “What’s this? The famous director’s assistant can’t threaten his way to what he wants, so now he’s resorting to assault?” Caught in the act, Mills’s face turned a shade of crimson. “You just wait, you bitch! I’m calling Mr. Ritchie right now!” I crossed my arms, my smile unwavering. “Good. I’d love to see what this brilliant, award-winning young director is really made of.” Just then, the door to the dressing room was kicked open with a loud bang. “Who’s causing trouble on my set?” 2 A tall, handsome young man, flanked by an entourage of crew members, strode toward me. “You’re Ethan Ritchie?” I sized him up. I had to admit, my dad had good taste. He was at least six-foot-one, dressed in a tailored designer suit that screamed style and confidence. But I was confused. He was a director, so why was he dressed like a runway model? “Mr. Ritchie, a pleasure to meet you. Allow me to introduce myself,” I began. “My name is Zoe Yang, I’m the lead actress in this series, and my father is—” “Miss Yang, do I know you?” Ethan cut me off with an impatient wave of his hand. “I’ve seen a hundred actresses just like you on this circuit,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “So, tell me. Which executive did you sleep with to get this part? Mr. Knight? Mr. Garrett? Or was it Mr. Sterling? Oh, wait, that’s right. Mr. Sterling adores his wife. You wouldn’t have had a chance in hell with him.” For a moment, I thought I’d misheard him. I had hustled on these backlots for three years. My acting might not have been Oscar-worthy, but it was solid. The Mr. Sterling he mentioned was, in fact, my father, but since entering this industry, I had never once used my family’s resources. Even my dad didn’t know I was the lead in his latest investment until after filming had started. “Mr. Ritchie, that’s a pretty unprofessional thing to say in front of all these people, don’t you think?” He let out a derisive snort. “First day in the business, sweetheart?” “Actresses like you—young, no real credits to your name—how else do you think you get ahead? You sell the only thing you have.” He let his eyes roam over my body in a way that made my skin crawl. “Next time you want a lead role, come to me. I’m much easier to please than those old men.” The dressing room erupted in whispers. “So that’s how she got the part. She slept with the investors.” “There are tons of actresses like her around here. Spread your legs, and a role just falls into your lap. Nothing to be proud of.” “I can’t believe it. She was just lecturing us about having principles, and she was the first one to take her clothes off.” The buzz of their judgment was disorienting. When had I supposedly been trading sex for roles? If I really wanted a lead part, all it would take was a single phone call from my father. “Well, since you’ve made your opinion of me so clear, Mr. Ritchie,” I said coolly, “then… I suggest you find someone else.” Before the words were fully out of my mouth, Mills jumped in. “Who the hell do you think you are, Yang? Mr. Ritchie hasn’t fired you yet. You don’t get to just walk away!” He played the part of the loyal dog to perfection. Even I, a professionally trained actress, was impressed by his performance. “With a director like him running the show,” I said, my voice ringing with finality, “I wouldn’t want to be the lead anyway.” Ethan just waved a dismissive hand. “You actresses and your little games of playing hard to get. It’s so predictable.” He pulled a key card from his pocket and held it out to me. “The Grand Marriott, Room 808. Be there tonight. And be clean.” I glanced down at the key card and let out a cold laugh. “Mr. Ritchie, I think you misunderstood me. I’m just telling you… you don’t deserve to be a director.” I turned to leave, but Mills’s voice stopped me in my tracks. “Hold it right there, Yang!” I paused and slowly turned back. “What now? Did Mr. Ritchie have a sudden change of heart?” Mills leisurely pulled a contract from his briefcase. “Playing the innocent saint? You’d better have the bank account to back it up.” 3 The assistant strutted over, holding the contract out like a weapon. I barely glanced at it before giving a dismissive wave. “Just tell me how much. I’ll pay it.” Ethan, who had been watching from the side, looked at me with a flicker of surprise. My lack of panic seemed to throw him off. “Pay it? Can you afford to?” he scoffed. “The contract is crystal clear. If an actor terminates the agreement unilaterally, you owe the production three times the penalty fee.” I raised an eyebrow, a faint smile on my lips. “Mr. Ritchie, just name the price. Whether I can afford it is my problem, not yours.” “One and a half million dollars!” Mills blurted out. A collective gasp went through the crew. Even Ethan seemed taken aback. “Mills, this is just a short-form series. The entire budget is less than that. Isn’t that a bit steep for replacing one actress?” But Mills was resolute. “Not at all, Mr. Ritchie. You’re thinking too small. You just won a major international award. You’re not the same director you were yesterday. And this is your first project since winning. It’s significant! Making that little bitch pay only one and a half million is us being merciful.” Ethan considered it for a moment, then slapped his thigh. “You know, you’ve got a point. My status alone is worth that much!” I had no interest in dragging this out. “Fine,” I said. “One and a half million it is. I’ll pay.” Every eye in the room was now fixed on me. Some of them clearly thought I was bluffing, trying to save face when I didn’t have a penny to my name. Others figured I was just putting on a show of innocence and would end up at the hotel room by midnight. None of their opinions mattered. What mattered was the rage simmering inside me. How did a director with such a vile mindset win an international award? Were the judges blind? And the most infuriating part? He had even fooled my father, the man who wanted me to go on a date with this scumbag. “Well, gentlemen, since I’ve agreed to your terms, may I leave now?” With that, I snatched the contract from Mills’s hand. But as I turned to go, he blocked my path once again. “You can go. But the lottery ticket stays.” At his words, the crew members loyal to him chimed in. “That’s right! The tickets were bought for the whole production. She can’t take it!” “You’re not part of the cast anymore, so you definitely have no right to it!” Looking at the familiar faces now turned against me, I felt a sharp sting of disappointment. During my time as an extra, I had always shared whatever I had with these people. Now, over a single piece of paper, they were treating me like an enemy. My eyes swept over the crowd as a cold laugh escaped my lips. “You know… I tried to get along with you all as a regular person. But all that got me was your contempt.” I took a deep breath. “Fine. My father is Liam Sterling. I’m laying my cards on the table.” 4 The room erupted in laughter. “That’s hilarious! If your dad is Liam Sterling, then my dad is Elon Musk!” “Yeah, right. What daughter of a billionaire is out here shooting a low-budget series?” Mills sauntered toward me, a malicious grin on his face. “Miss Yang, you’re not trying to welsh on the deal, are you? Everyone knows the city’s richest man is named Sterling, not Yang.” A smirk touched my lips as I pulled out my phone in front of everyone. “Hi, Dad. It’s Zoe.” His voice was cheerful on the other end. “Zoe! How’s it going? Have you thought about that blind date?” he asked. “You’ve loved acting since you were a little girl. Are you happy with the match I made for you?” My gaze drifted pointedly toward Ethan. “Dad, the date is a long story. But there’s something I need to tell you first.” I paused. “I don’t want to act anymore.” “What did you say!?” His shock and anger practically exploded through the phone. “Zoe, are you kidding me? Your lifelong dream was to be a leading actress. What do you mean you’re quitting?” I took a steadying breath. “I’m not kidding, Dad. I’m serious. If being an actress means I have to sleep with the director, then I’d rather not have the part at all.” I quickly recounted the events of the last hour. I heard the sound of a glass shattering on his end. “Put that son of a bitch on the phone. Now.” Before I could say anything, Mills snatched the phone from my hand, along with the lottery ticket. “Hey, you the little bitch’s father?” he sneered into the phone. “Let me tell you something. Your daughter just pissed off the one and only Ethan Ritchie. Do you have any idea what that means?” My dad, who probably hadn’t been spoken to like that in decades, was silent for a few seconds. “You’re the one who told my daughter to hand over the ticket and pay a penalty?” Mills, still blissfully unaware of who he was talking to, remained as arrogant as ever. “Cut the crap. Are you going to pay or not?” Even through the phone, I could feel the inferno of my father’s rage. “Pay? Is one and a half million a little low? How about I make it fifteen million?” he roared. “Give me your location. I’ll have the money sent over right now.” Mills, clearly thinking my dad was just some blowhard, shot back. “Don’t bullshit me, old man! You’ve never even seen fifteen million dollars in your life! But you know what? If you’ve got the guts to send it, I’ve got the guts to take it. Studio lot B. And I want it in cash.” After hanging up, Mills shot a triumphant look at Ethan, his chest puffed out with pride. I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. “I have to hand it to you, Mr. Ritchie. You’ve got yourself a one-of-a-kind assistant,” I said. “He even dares to curse out my father. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so brave.” Mills just snorted, completely unfazed. “Whatever. I don’t care who your dad is. On this set, what Mr. Ritchie says is law.” I sighed dramatically, a smile playing on my lips. “That’s a real shame. Because your Mr. Ritchie is about to be unemployed.” Just as the words left my mouth, someone in the crowd yelled. “Hey, look over there!” Everyone turned. A convoy of a dozen armored trucks, each emblazoned with the investor’s logo, was rolling steadily toward our set.

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1 The moment I learned that my husband, Sean, was actually Adrian Stephen, the sole heir to the Stephen fortune who had vanished in a plane crash, I did the sensible thing. I drew up a divorce agreement. He tore it to shreds. “Ava, I don’t remember any of that!” he pleaded, his voice ragged. “I want to go home. I miss the smell of the sea, I miss Goldie and Patches.” He grabbed my arm. “Let’s go back to Seaside Cove. Let’s not waste another minute with these people.” I looked up. Victoria, the woman who had been Adrian’s wife before his memory loss, was staring at me with a look of pure, venomous despair. Nearby, a little boy—Adrian’s son—was crying, trying to run to his father, only to be held back by his nanny. I swallowed hard, my fingers stiff as I pointed to the signature line. “Sign it, Sean.” “You can let me down,” I whispered, “but you can’t abandon the wife and child who have been searching for you for six years.” … Sean’s eyes went red. This gentle man I knew roared, shoving Victoria away as she tried to approach him. “Don’t touch me! How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t remember anything from before! You’re Adrian Stephen’s wife, that’s Adrian Stephen’s son! What does any of that have to do with me, with Sean?” He clutched his head in anguish. “I’m begging you, just leave me alone! Are you trying to drive my wife away? Is that what you want? I don’t have a single memory of being Adrian Stephen, so why are you all trying to make me responsible for his life?” Seeing his pain, Victoria opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her eyes grew vacant, and only when she looked at me did a flicker of life return to her hollow expression. She hated me. With every fiber of her being. In her eyes, I was the other woman who had stolen her husband, the homewrecker who had destroyed her family. And from a certain point of view, she wasn’t wrong. The year I met Sean, he was a married man. But I didn’t know that. And neither did he. I found him on the rocks near my small fishing village, Seaside Cove. A shredded parachute was still strapped to his back, and half his face was caked in dried blood, but even then, his handsome features were undeniable. I took him to the small police station on the island. He couldn’t remember a thing, not even his name. He joked that he might be a merman who had swum up from the depths of the ocean. Officer Miller took one look at his dazed expression and figured he was a mentally ill man abandoned by his family. He took a routine blood sample for the database and told me to take him home for the time being. “Ava, he might be a few cards short of a deck, but he’s built solid,” Miller had said. “You don’t have a man around the house. He could be a great help. A hot meal for a strong back? Sounds like a good deal for you.” “We’ll contact you if we ever find his family.” So, I took him in. I even gave him his name: Sean. He said he was a merman from the sea, so I picked the name of a merman from an old storybook. And just like that, Sean became a part of my life. For six years, he went from coming back with empty nets to being the undisputed fishing king of Seaside Cove. From a man who couldn’t cook to a master fish filleter who moved with ruthless efficiency. He went from being the hired hand at Ava’s place to being Ava’s husband. I thought our simple, happy life would go on forever. Then Officer Miller showed up at our door again. He looked at me, his expression grim. “Ava… whatever I’m about to tell you, you need to be strong…” “Sean… he wasn’t abandoned. We got a DNA match. He’s Adrian Stephen, the only son of the Stephen family, the wealthiest family in Northwood City. He went missing in a plane crash.” “The impact must have caused his amnesia. And before the crash… he was already married. With a child.” “Ava,” Miller said gently, “I think your merman has to swim back to the sea.” My heart plummeted into the pit of my stomach with a silent, sickening thud. I stood there, frozen, until Sean’s enraged shout snapped me out of it. He had flipped over Officer Miller’s desk. “Miller, you’ve got a thing for my wife, don’t you? Is that why you’re stirring up this trouble? So that’s why you’re still single, you’re trying to steal her from me!” “Don’t think I won’t deck you just because you’re a cop! You dare spread lies about me, I’ll…” Sean was detained for a week for obstructing an officer. The day I picked him up from the station, I dragged him onto a plane to Northwood City. I had to know the truth. Was he someone else’s Adrian, or was he my Sean? The answer, as it turned out, was not the one I wanted. Officer Miller was right. Sean was the missing Stephen heir. He had a wife, and his son was now eight years old. From Victoria’s perspective, I was the villain. The homewrecker, the cause of all her pain. Sean clutched my wrist, his eyes pleading like a big, abandoned dog’s. “Ava, don’t leave me,” he whispered. “I don’t know them. How can I be responsible for them?” He looked terrified. “You haven’t found someone else, have you? Is that what this is? Are you using this as an excuse to get rid of me? If that’s it, we can figure it out. You know I’m not a jealous man.” Victoria’s breath hitched, and she looked as if she might shatter into a million pieces. The hatred in her eyes shot toward me like poisoned arrows, a constant reminder that the happiness I’d found had been stolen directly from her. I bit my tongue, hard. The pain jolted me back to reality. Steeling myself against the dull ache in my chest, I pulled my hand from his grasp. “Stop it, Sean… Adrian.” “The Stephens have hired the best therapist for you. I’m sure your memory will come back soon.” I took a shaky breath. “Do you remember Mrs. Gable next door? Her husband ran off with another woman while he was working on the mainland. You were always giving her fish. You know better than anyone how hard her life is, raising her son alone.” “You always said that a child without a father is the most pitiful thing in the world. Well, look at Cole. He’s your son. Are you going to be the kind of man who abandons his own wife and child?” Eight-year-old Cole bit his lip, fighting back tears, refusing to cry in front of the ‘bad woman.’ He stared at Sean, his small face a mixture of stubbornness and hurt. The man and the boy mirrored each other, the same expression on their faces. It was a bond of blood, something that could never be truly severed. Victoria, seeing the flicker of pity in Sean’s eyes, gave Cole a gentle push. The boy immediately stepped forward and threw his arms around Sean’s legs. “Daddy!” He was just a child. A child who hated the father who had left him for another woman, but who desperately wanted him back. Cole pulled a stack of old photos from his pocket and pressed himself into Sean’s embrace. Sean flipped through them, one by one. In each photo, a stranger who looked just like him had one arm around the boy and the other around Victoria. His expression grew more and more tormented. He instinctively pulled Cole into a tight hug. I took my chance. I turned and walked away. Standing on a bustling Northwood City street, surrounded by the rush of people, my heart felt emptier than it ever had facing the vast, open sea alone. I was torn, hoping he would run after me and terrified that he would. “Ava, stop.” My heart seized. I froze. It was Victoria. 2 She was clearly exhausted, but she held her head high, forcing an air of superiority. “Ava, we’re both women. Don’t think I don’t see through your little act,” she said, her voice sharp. “Playing the magnanimous one, pushing Adrian back to me… you’re just trying to make him feel sorry for you, to make him need you even more.” She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “You just love being the other woman, don’t you?” 3 As much as I disliked her aggressive tone, in that moment, I felt a pang of pity for her. She had spent six years searching for her husband, only to find he had built a new life, a new family, with someone else. A husband who, for the sake of that other woman, was ready to abandon her and their child all over again. If I were in her shoes, I’m not sure I could have been as strong. “You’re mistaken, Mrs. Stephen. I intend to cut all ties with… Mr. Stephen,” I said quietly. “I’m a victim in this too. If I had known he had a family, I never would have—” Victoria wasn’t listening. She looked manic as she shoved me to the ground, pulling a bank card from her purse and throwing it at my face. “Ava, if you’re really going to cut ties with him, then get out of here now! Disappear!” she shrieked. “Or I swear, I will make sure every single person on your pathetic little island knows you’re a homewrecker who steals other people’s husbands!” I pushed myself up and picked up the card. She was right. If I was serious about leaving Sean, then I needed to disappear. Now. Anything else was just an act, a way to keep the connection alive. Clutching my bruised arm, I hailed a cab. Victoria ran after the car, her voice a mixture of sobs and curses. “Is this what you wanted, Ava? Money? I’ll give you anything you want! Just give me back my Adrian!” Officer Miller had told me about her. She was the daughter of a wealthy family, a Harvard graduate, a titan of business who had single-handedly kept the Stephen empire afloat after her husband’s disappearance. This hysterical, broken woman was not who she was supposed to be. I had stolen her husband. I had done this to her. Pressing a hand to my tight chest, I told the driver, “To the airport.” Victoria was generous. The card had five hundred thousand dollars on it. Enough to ensure I would be comfortable for the rest of my life. But the price was that I could never go back to Seaside Cove. I could never see Sean again. I fumbled my way through getting a passport and boarded a flight to Iceland. I hadn’t even known the country existed before I met Sean. “Sweetheart, when the fishing season ends and we have some time off, I’ll take you to Iceland,” he used to say. “You want to see snow, right? They say Iceland has the most beautiful snow in the world, and the most beautiful auroras.” “It’s like the end of the world there. Even the houses are painted in rainbows.” I had wondered how he knew so much. He would just smile and say he must have swum there in a past life, when he was a merman. I should have known. A man like Sean—handsome, cultured, knowledgeable—how could he have been simply abandoned? Finding a bar of gold on the street and keeping it isn’t so different from stealing. I hadn’t found Sean; I had stolen him. And now, I was giving him back. Life in Iceland was lonely and clumsy. It wasn’t the paradise Sean had described. The days were short, the nights were long, and it was bone-chillingly cold. I didn’t speak the language, so I couldn’t make any friends. I wanted to go home, but I couldn’t break my promise to Victoria. After some time spent in a listless haze, she called me. She wanted me to come back. Her voice was trembling, hollowed out with exhaustion. “Ava, you win.” “Come back. I’m begging you, please come back.” “Adrian says… he says if he can’t see you again, he’s going to kill himself. I thought he was just bluffing, until I found him in the bathtub this morning… the whole tub was filled with blood…” 4 I rushed back immediately. Sean was lying weakly in a hospital bed. The moment he saw me, his eyes, which had been dull and lifeless, lit up with a brilliant light. I took the bowl of porridge Victoria handed me and began to feed him, spoonful by spoonful. “You’re a grown man. What are you doing, trying to kill yourself, going on a hunger strike?” Sean’s shoulders slumped, and he looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, his face a mask of misery. “You’re the one who left me first.” “I tried to run after you that day, but you know I have no sense of direction. The only roads I know are the ones in Seaside Cove. I walked around in circles until the housekeeper told me I hadn’t even made it past the front gate of the estate.” “Sweetheart, can we please go home?” he pleaded. “I can’t eat this bloody rare steak, and I can’t sleep on a bed that’s softer than a cloud. I just want to go home, back to our boat.” As he spoke, tears started to stream down his face. I knew I had to say no. But looking at him like this, I didn’t have the heart. Victoria tilted her head back, fighting to keep her own tears from falling. She reached out and tucked the blanket around him. “When you’re discharged from the hospital, I’ll let Ava take you home,” she said, her voice strained. “As long as you listen to the doctors and take your medicine, I’ll agree to whatever you want.” She had given in. She wanted her husband by her side, but she never wanted to drive him to his death. Hearing her words, Sean let out a long sigh of relief and happily ate another large bowl of porridge. The single tear that Victoria secretly wiped away fell like a drop of lead onto my heart. Later, as we left the room together, Victoria gave me a self-deprecating smile. “Don’t think you’ve won, Ava.” “If Adrian hadn’t lost his memory, I know, without a doubt, he would have chosen me.” She took a locket from around her neck and opened it to show me the photo inside. “Here. This was taken in Iceland.” “I told him I wouldn’t agree to his proposal until I saw a rainbow aurora. The fool insisted we stay in Iceland for a whole year. He said if we didn’t see one, we’d just live there forever.” Her voice cracked. “The plane crash… he was on his way to an auction in France. He was going to buy a sapphire to have it made into a brooch for me… Damn it. If only I didn’t like sapphires.” She smiled and tilted her head up, but tears streamed down her cheeks. “Forget it, Ava. Take Adrian Stephen with you. As far as I’m concerned, he’s already dead.” For a moment, I wavered. But my conscience wouldn’t let me. Victoria was his wife. They had a son. She had sacrificed so much more than I had, and she and her child needed him more. Besides, Sean—Adrian—had loved her. He had just forgotten. His dream of taking me to Iceland was born from his love for her. Stolen things always have to be returned. Better sooner than later. I looked at Victoria. “Do you have a brick?” She stared at me, bewildered, but pointed to a construction site next door. “The crew should have some. What do you need a brick for?” I hurried downstairs with Victoria close behind me. “To get Sean’s… Adrian’s memory back,” I said. “It’s how they always do it on TV. One knock causes amnesia, another brings it back.” “You’re insane!” Victoria hissed, but I could see a desperate flicker of hope in her eyes. We went back to the room. Sean was lying in bed, his eyes bright as he watched me. “Sweetheart, you’re back! Did you and that mean woman work things out? When are we going—” I didn’t let him finish. I swung the brick and hit him squarely on the back of his head. “Hiss…” He clutched his head and passed out. When he came to, his eyes fluttered open. He looked around, and his gaze settled on someone. “Honey,” he rasped. But this time, he was looking at Victoria.

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My son’s fever was raging, and all he did was cry for Santa Claus. I tried to coax him, promising that if he just drank his medicine, I’d take him to see Santa. But he knocked the bowl from my hand, shattering it on the floor. “No! Daddy promised he’d take me,” he insisted. A shard of porcelain sliced across the back of my hand, and little beads of blood welled up. I started picking up the pieces, trying to explain. “Your father’s busy with work, sweetie. Besides, he thinks Christmas is silly.” The boy just yawned, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “He’ll be there,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “He promised Miss Nora. And Daddy never, ever breaks a promise to her.” My hand froze in mid-air. 1 I stayed that way for a long time. Long enough for my son, Ethan, to fall fast asleep on the bed. Only then did I slowly walk out to the balcony and stare into the night. It was Christmas Eve. The world outside hummed with festive energy, every house a constellation of twinkling lights. I turned back inside, and the silence was deafening. The apartment felt colder, emptier than ever. Rami hadn’t come home. Again. After a moment’s hesitation, I called him. The ringtone played on for what felt like an eternity, a full forty seconds, before a cold, impatient voice finally answered. “I’m in a meeting. I’ll be late.” He hung up before I could even say a word. But I’d heard it. Clear as day. The chaotic buzz of a crowd in the background, punctuated by a woman’s bright, carefree laughter. Something snapped inside me. On pure instinct, I went downstairs, got in the car, and drove straight to the kindergarten. The square across the street was alive with people. And I saw him almost immediately. Rami. He was dressed in a ridiculous Santa Claus costume, striking one goofy pose after another, making the woman sitting on the stone steps double over with laughter. He used the moment to slip a piece of candy into her hand, his smile soft and intimate. “Merry Christmas, Nora.” A sharp pang went through my heart. Last Christmas, I’d been bored out of my mind at home. I’d tugged on his arm, trying to be playful. “Come on, just spend a little time with me? Get off work early, please? An hour? Half an hour? Even ten minutes would be enough!” He had just shot me a cool glance, pulling his arm away without a second thought. “It’s just a commercial holiday, Vivian. Is it really that important?” he’d said, his tone flat. “Don’t be so childish.” My vision blurred. Across the square, the two of them were still joking around, looking for all the world like a couple lost in the first blush of love. I knew her. Nora. Ethan’s beloved Miss Nora. She was the woman a twenty-year-old Rami had fought tooth and nail to marry, defying his grandfather and the arranged marriage to me. He had knelt before the old man, ready to face any consequence, as long as he could have her. But the confrontation had sent his grandfather into a sudden cardiac arrest. His final will and testament was a single, unbending command: Rami had to honor the marriage contract with my family. And just like that, Rami fell silent. He locked his heart away, cut off all contact with her, and, as promised, married me and fathered my child. But now, a decade later, it was clear. The thirty-year-old Rami still couldn’t forget Nora. Not me, the wife who had stood by his side for ten years. In that moment, our ten-year marriage, my fifteen years of unrequited love… it all felt like a pathetic joke. I forced a bitter smile onto my lips. If this marriage was something I had stolen, then it was only right that I give it back. Taking a deep breath, I turned and drove home. The clock struck midnight by the time Rami finally opened the door. I hadn’t turned on the lights in the living room. I was just a shadow, curled up on the sofa. He glanced at me in silence, not noticing the deathly pale color of my face, and sat down beside me. “Can’t sleep without me here?” he murmured, a faint, condescending smile playing on his lips. He pulled out a small jewelry box. “The new piece from the Christmas collection. Want to try it on?” I pressed my lips together. “Rami,” I said, my voice carefully neutral, “Christmas is over.” And so is my love for you. His expression darkened instantly. The hint of a smile vanished from his eyes, and he tossed the box into the nearby trash can. “You’re crossing a line, Vivian.” As he turned to leave, the air swirled around him, carrying the cloying scent of fruit candy. The sweetness made my nose tingle, a bitter ache spreading through my sinuses. I stopped him as he headed for his study. My voice was barely a whisper. “Rami, let’s get a divorce.” That way, I’ll never cross the line again. 2 Rami’s whole body went rigid. He turned his head, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “All this because I was late for some meaningless holiday?” I was quiet for a moment, then shook my head. “It’s not just about that.” Honestly, the moment the word ‘divorce’ popped into my head, it shocked even me. From the time I was a little girl, my mother had drilled it into me: I would be Mrs. Hemlock. I’d chased after Rami for years. I’d been hurt, I’d gotten tired, I’d cried, but I had never, ever thought about giving up. And yet, those two words had tumbled out of my mouth so easily. Rami’s face was a mask of indifference, his gaze so cold it made me shiver. “Vivian, if you’re going to throw a tantrum, at least pick a better time. I’m busy. I don’t have time for these silly little games.” I wasn’t surprised he didn’t believe me. I didn’t argue. He would know I was serious soon enough, when my lawyer presented him with the divorce agreement and the asset settlement. I changed the subject, my tone casual. “Nora’s divorced, did you know? I heard she’s teaching at Ethan’s kindergarten now.” Rami’s gaze dropped. “I didn’t know,” he said, his voice flat. “And I don’t care.” How could he not care? I clutched my phone, my eyes fixed on the latest headline from a gossip site: “Billionaire Rami Hemlock Rages for His First Love,” accompanied by another, “A Love That Crosses the Class Divide.” He was the one who helped her get the divorce. He was the one who personally carried her to his car. He was the one who carefully selected a job for her, placing her right under his nose where he could always see her. I shoved the phone in his face, my hand trembling slightly. “This is you ‘not caring’?” I demanded. “That man in the snow, playing Santa Claus just to make her smile… that wasn’t you, Mr. Hemlock?” He barely lifted his eyelids, not even bothering to give me a proper look. “That monster she was with was abusive. That’s why I brought Nora back. I’d do the same for anyone.” His voice was calm, measured. “And Christmas is her birthday. She’s been incredibly depressed lately, so I was just trying to cheer her up. Vivian, can’t you have a little compassion?” He paused, then added, “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. Because I knew you’d overthink everything.” It was all so reasonable. My hands and feet felt numb. A heavy pressure built in my chest, and I didn’t know what expression I was supposed to make. Rami hesitated, then let out a soft sigh and patted my shoulder. “Vivian,” he said, his voice softening, “we’re married now.” They were meant to be comforting words, but the way he said them was tinged with a deep, lingering regret for a love he couldn’t have in his youth. I understood what he wasn’t saying. We were married. What more could I possibly want? I shook his hand off, clinging to one last sliver of hope. “Ethan was burning up all night. Did you know that?” Rami was clearly taken aback. I knew it. He’d put my number on Do Not Disturb again. He probably never even saw my messages. A bitter sting pricked my nose. I was about to say more, but then, a horrifying thought struck me. Ethan. The name we’d chosen for our son. Was it for her? All this time, even the name of the child we made together was a monument to his memory of her. A wave of utter defeat washed over me. I didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. Rami looked lost for a moment. He tentatively reached for me, but was interrupted by the sudden chime of the doorbell. A second later, the door swung open. A frail, slender figure stood on the threshold, peering in timidly. Her voice was a choked sob. “Rami… I have nowhere else to go.” 3 Nora’s quiet sobs filled the room. The little rabbit keychain clutched in her hand was a perfect match for the one on Rami’s car keys. It was obvious. Sometime when I wasn’t home, he had already brought her here, shown her our home. Seeing her tears, Rami’s expression faltered. Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned to go to her. Bile rose in my throat. Fighting the urge to be sick, I grabbed the corner of his jacket. “Rami, do you think I’m just some kind of doormat?” my voice trembled with rage. “Do you even consider this our home anymore? Ethan is still sick… If you let her in that door, we are well and truly over.” His eyes, red-rimmed and angry, met mine. He paused, then his hand covered mine. And then, forcefully, he pried my fingers off, one by one. “This isn’t your business, Vivian,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Just be Mrs. Hemlock.” He shook me off and strode over to Nora, his voice instantly softening with concern as he bent down to her. “What happened? Who hurt you?” Nora buried her face in her hands and collapsed into his arms, her muffled cries telling a story I couldn’t hear. Rami’s brow furrowed in anger. He held her for a long time, murmuring reassurances until she quieted. Finally, he spared me a single glance. “Nora’s ex-husband followed her all the way here. She’s alone, and she’s terrified he’ll harass or attack her. That’s why she came to me for help.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t be so cruel, Vivian.” “Go clear out the master bedroom. You can sleep with Ethan tonight. Nora needs to rest.” My knuckles turned white as I clenched my fists. I stared at him, my teeth grinding together. “She needs to rest? What about Ethan? Isn’t he your son? You want him to sleep poorly while he’s sick?” Just as the words left my mouth, the door to the second bedroom creaked open. Ethan stood there, his face a thundercloud of irritation. He glared at me, his voice sharp with a familiar frustration. “Mom, you’re so loud! Are you trying to keep everyone awake?” I froze, stunned into silence. My first instinct was to soften, to coax him back to bed, to check on his fever. But in the next second, Ethan’s eyes landed on Nora, who was trembling behind Rami. I tried to move in front of her, but he dodged around me and ran straight to her, tugging on her arm playfully. “Miss Nora? What are you doing here? Did you miss me?” Then he noticed her face. “Why are your eyes all red? Was my mommy being mean to you? Did she scare you?” Nora knelt, gently stroking his hair, her lips curving into a soft, gentle smile. “No, sweetie. Your mom is a very kind person…” She sighed dramatically. “Your teacher was followed by a bad man, her ex-husband. For a little while… I might not have a home.” Hearing this, Ethan immediately took her hand, puffing out his chest with bravado. “Don’t be scared, Miss Nora! I’ll protect you! When I grow up, I’ll marry you, and then you’ll never have to worry about not having a home again!” Nora blinked, then burst into a genuine, delighted laugh. “You little charmer. I wonder who you get your taste in women from.” She cast a meaningful glance at Rami. Rami’s gaze softened considerably. He playfully tapped Ethan on the forehead. “Go to bed. Miss Nora doesn’t need you to worry about her.” “No way! I want to sleep with Miss Nora…” The warm, yellow light of the living room cast a soft glow on the three of them, bathing them in a halo of warmth. They looked like a perfect, happy family, playfully bickering. And I was the outsider. The intruder. A small, bitter laugh escaped my lips. I wasn’t sure if it was from humiliation or self-mockery. I went and silently packed a small bag with a few changes of clothes. Then I turned and looked at Rami, my voice dripping with helpfulness. “It’s fine if the house is a little crowded,” I said. “I’ll just stay somewhere else.” Rami stiffened. He took two instinctive steps toward me, but Nora grabbed his arm. “Rami, Ethan said he’s sleepy. Shouldn’t we get him to bed first?” He stopped, his eyes flickering from my back to her pleading face. He relented. He gently brushed her nose with his finger. “Alright. Let’s get these two little troublemakers to sleep.” He hesitated for a second, then tossed a black credit card onto the floor near my feet. “If you’re so determined to throw a fit, then get out and cool off for a few days. When you’re done with your drama, I’ll come get you.” I bit my lip, hard. I didn’t turn back. I just walked out and slammed the door behind me. Then I pulled out my phone and dialed a number that had been sitting in my blocked list for years. “Is it too late to change my mind?” On the other end of the line, a man’s voice, lazy and amused, chuckled softly. But beneath the laughter, there was a note of sincerity. “For you, Vivian? The offer’s always good.” 4 It took a week. I had my lawyer draft the divorce agreement, meticulously dividing our marital assets based on all the evidence I had. During that time, Rami never came to get me. He never called. But news about him was everywhere. He made a grand appearance at the school gates, joining Nora for a parent-child event with Ethan. After school, he was photographed wrapping both of them in his oversized coat, a human shield against the biting wind and falling snow. Even though I had prepared myself, my heart still ached with a bitter cold. I get cold so easily. I remembered one winter, laughing as I tried to slip my hand into his coat pocket. “Let me borrow some warmth, okay?” He had recoiled instantly, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand out. “I’ll have my assistant buy you a hand warmer.” At the time, I thought he was just shy, uncomfortable with public displays of affection. Now I knew the truth. It was never about shyness. It was about love. Or the lack of it. Rami’s high-profile appearances with Nora had successfully captured the media’s attention. Headlines like “Trouble in Paradise for the Hemlock Empire?” and “Billionaire Rekindles Flame with First Love” dominated the news cycle. The comments sections were a storm of speculation: [Isn’t that the girl he wanted to marry ten years ago, the one he fought his family for?] [They were meant to be together from the start.] [The one who isn’t loved is the other woman. If Vivian hadn’t forced her way in, none of this would have happened.] [He looks so happy with the woman he loves. They look perfect together, like a real family.] In the past, whenever rumors of our marriage being on the rocks had surfaced, Rami had crushed them before the stories even went to print. One overzealous reporter had been escorted out of Westwood that very night, never to be seen in journalism again. The Hemlock family name was everything. Which meant that every single one of these stories, every piece of gossip, was being published with Rami’s silent approval. He was choosing to aim the firestorm at me, all to protect the precious woman he held so dear from even the slightest hint of scandal. I took a deep, steadying breath. It didn’t matter. This fake, pathetic marriage was finally coming to an end. I walked straight into his company headquarters. His assistant intercepted me in front of his office, head bowed. “Mrs. Hemlock,” he mumbled, “Mr. Hemlock is in a meeting. And you don’t have an appointment…” I just stared at him, my silence more powerful than any shout. He stood his ground, sweating, but didn’t move. Just then, the office door opened and Nora walked out, carrying an empty lunchbox. She gave me an apologetic smile, but her eyes glittered with triumph. “Vivian,” she said sweetly. “Rami is a little busy right now.” I ignored her, pushed past her, and threw the office door open. I slapped the divorce agreement down on the desk in front of Rami. “The assets are divided. The kid is yours,” I said, my voice flat and cool. “If there are no problems, sign it.” Rami turned his head. The words “DIVORCE AGREEMENT” were practically screaming up at him from the page. His brow furrowed, and he looked up at me. “Are you still angry? I’m not signing this. Take it away.” Beside me, Nora’s hand tightened, her knuckles turning white. A strange, tense silence filled the room. Rami stared at me for a long time, his frown deepening. He had just opened his mouth to speak when the office was thrown into chaos. “Who the hell is that?” “Somebody stop that lunatic!” A burly, rough-looking man stormed into the room, lunged at Nora, and slapped her hard across the face, twice. “You filthy whore!” he roared. “You thought you could run off on me?”

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