The day before my wedding, my mother found my fiancée, Amber, tangled up with my best friend. The shock sent her into cardiac arrest. The doctors said her heart was failing, fast. She needed a transplant. Luckily, my mom and I had been tested for compatibility ages ago, a precaution due to our family’s medical history. We were a perfect match. The decision was simple. I’d give her my heart; I’d take the artificial one. The mountain of medical bills was staggering. When I pleaded with Amber for help, she claimed her cash was tied up. The next day, she married him. His name was Stellan. That’s when Dr. Evelyn Reed stepped in. She covered every last cent, and as the top cardiothoracic surgeon in the state, she personally scrubbed in to perform both of our surgeries. When I woke up, the first thing I saw was Evelyn’s face, etched with a sorrow so profound it seemed to carve new lines into her skin. She told me there had been a complication. My mother’s body had violently rejected the transplant. The surgery failed. She was gone. Evelyn held me as I fell apart, her arms a strange comfort in the sterile white room. She whispered that she had fallen for me, that she wanted to spend the rest of her life taking care of me. Seven years later, I overheard her talking to her best friend, Chloe, through the half-closed door of her study. “The fact that you swapped Leo’s heart into Stellan, right in front of his mother… Evelyn, that’s a different level of cold.” “I didn’t have a choice,” Evelyn’s voice was low, smoky. “His heart was the only one that matched Stellan’s.” “That’s not true! They found another donor. Stellan would have had to wait, what, half a day? You were that impatient?” Evelyn sighed, a sound heavy with something I couldn’t name. “I couldn’t stand to see him suffer. Not for a second.” 1 Inside her study, a curl of smoke rose from her lips. Her voice was a raw whisper. “The world won’t let me have him. The least I can do is make sure he lives a long, safe life.” Chloe’s tone was a mix of awe and horror. “But Leo… His blood type is so rare. Finding another match is nearly impossible. He’s spent years coughing up blood, dealing with that constant, stabbing pain in his chest.” She pressed on. “Don’t forget, that artificial heart of his has a one-month lifespan. It has to be replaced, again. Are you going to make him endure being cracked open for the rest of his life? He loves you, Evelyn. Give him his heart back. You’ve already got a dozen backup donors lined up for Stellan.” Evelyn’s reply was instant, sharp as a scalpel. “No. Every backup donor is another layer of security for Stellan. I will not gamble with his life.” Chloe’s voice rose in desperation. “What about Leo? I can still see his mother’s face, the bloody tears streaming down her cheeks as she died. Aren’t you afraid of what he’ll do when he finds out? Aren’t you afraid he’ll kill you?” A long silence. Then, a humorless laugh from Evelyn. “If he wants my life, he can have it. I was planning on taking care of him forever anyway.” Another drag of her cigarette. “As long as Stellan is happy, I can die with no regrets.” The doorknob felt slick with sweat in my hand. The veins on my skin stood out like ropes as an uncontrollable tremor shot through my arm. I raised my phone, hit record, and captured the rest of it. Then, before she could sense my presence, I stumbled back to our bedroom in a daze and slid to the floor. My body had never fully accepted the artificial heart. It left me perpetually weak, a prisoner to bouts of coughing that brought up blood and a piercing pain that felt like a hot poker being twisted in my chest. Evelyn had told me a reverse transplant was impossible. Since my mother had passed, there was no “living donor” to give the heart back to. The logic seemed sound at the time. It made sense, I thought. At least my heart could be with my mom forever. No wonder she had insisted I was too weak to get out of bed, too fragile to see my mother one last time. She had handled all the arrangements herself, a grieving angel by my side. It was all a lie. The salvation, the profound love—it was just dressing on an altar she’d built for someone else. She never even operated on my mother. My mom, and me… we were just offerings. Sacrifices for the man she truly loved. To ensure her plan went off without a hitch, she had wheeled my mother into the operating theater first. She made my mother watch as her own son’s heart was cut from his chest and placed into the body of another man. Powerless. Forced to watch until the agony, the betrayal, stopped her own failing heart for good. She died weeping tears of blood. Even without a real heart, the pain in my chest was so immense it stole my breath. I doubled over, spitting a fresh mouthful of blood onto the polished hardwood floor. “Leo?” Evelyn was there, suddenly. Her eyes widened at the sight of the blood. She rushed to my side, guiding me to the bed, her touch impossibly gentle as she wiped my lips. “I’m so sorry, Leo. I’m not taking good enough care of you. Don’t worry, I’ve already sourced the best new model for you. We’ll get you a new artificial heart in a few days.” Her eyes were red-rimmed with what I had always mistaken for guilt-ridden love. It was the same look she always gave me when the pain hit. I used to be the one comforting her, telling her it was okay, that I was strong enough. God, I was such a fool. “Evelyn,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I’m so tired of the pain. Can I please… can I stop using the artificial hearts?” You have so many backups for Stellan, I wanted to scream. Can’t I just have my own back? She paused for only a fraction of a second before smiling, stroking my hair. “Leo, don’t say such silly things. We don’t have a donor for you. Without the artificial heart… you want me to just watch you die? You’d have to kill me first.” No donor? But the heart beating inside Stellan’s chest… it was mine. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I managed a weak smile. “You’re right. That was stupid of me.” Later, under the guise of drawing her a bath, I emptied an entire bottle of lavender sleep-inducing essential oil into the steaming water. She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, and within minutes, she was dead to the world, lost in a deep sleep. She must have been dreaming of him. She murmured his name, a soft, longing sound. “Stellan… I’ll always protect you. Even if it kills me.” I looked at the woman I had loved with every fiber of my being for seven years, and for the first time, the tears came, hot and silent. I called Mark, my doctor friend from med school. He’d just returned to the States after years with Doctors Without Borders in Africa. “I need you to do a surgery for me.” “Yes, I’m sure. See you in three days.” What was there to be afraid of in dying? The real torment was being forced to live like this. After hanging up, I slipped Evelyn’s phone from her nightstand and went to her study. The password, unsurprisingly, was Stellan’s birthday. I discovered she had a second, private messaging profile I never knew existed. She must have forgotten to switch back to her main account. The profile picture was two elegantly intertwined letters: E.S. The meaning was as simple as it was brutal. Evelyn loves Stellan. I opened her photo gallery. It was a shrine to him. Hundreds of pictures of Stellan, each with a caption that was a veiled, yet blatant, declaration of her love. “First day at the Reed estate. I saw Stellan. And for the first time, I understood what it felt like to have my heart stop.” “Stellan’s getting married. I’m going insane with jealousy. I want to fold him up and put him in my pocket, where he’ll only ever belong to me.” “Took Leo three times tonight. I know his body can’t handle it, but I can’t help myself. I miss Stellan so much. All I could do was chant his name in my head, over and over, as if my will alone could turn the man in my arms into him…” And then there were the gifts. Receipts for extravagant jewelry, designer bags, luxury cars. She had even bought him a private, heart-shaped island in the Caribbean, all in his name. In seven years, the only thing Evelyn had ever given me was this artificial heart, this engine of my unending pain and torment. While I was grieving my mother, drowning in my own blood and agony, Stellan was sunbathing on the soft, white sands of an island bought with my life. My hand holding the phone trembled violently. A wave of nausea churned in my gut, and I lunged for the wastebasket, dry-heaving. My elbow knocked against a bookshelf, dislodging a thick, leather-bound volume. It wasn’t a book. It was a box, disguised. Inside were several signed “Voluntary Heart Donation” certificates and stacks of bank transfer receipts. Evelyn had been paying massive monthly sums to the families of these donors. The condition was simple: they were not allowed to donate their hearts to anyone else. They were on retainer, ready to be harvested the moment Stellan needed them. The last certificate in the stack was mine. But the recipient’s name wasn’t my mother. It was Stellan. I remembered that day in the hospital, a whirlwind of paperwork she’d said was standard procedure. All I could think about was getting my mom into surgery. I would have signed anything. She must have slipped this one into the pile. My mother’s form was probably ashes by now. Evelyn. For Stellan, you truly thought of everything. I printed out the divorce papers and sat on the sofa in the silent living room, a hollowed-out man watching the night bleed into a gray dawn. I didn’t sleep. The next morning, Evelyn saw me and just assumed I was up early. She suspected nothing. Perhaps feeling a pang of guilt over my episode the night before, she made breakfast herself, a perfectly balanced, nutritious spread. When I didn’t touch my food, her brow furrowed with concern. “Leo, what’s wrong? You’re not eating. Are you feeling down?” “It’s nothing. I was just thinking about my mom.” She sighed, her expression softening with practiced sympathy. “Oh, Leo. It’s not just you. I think about her all the time. She was such a kind, gentle soul. I feel so useless for not being able to save her. I can still hear her, you know, holding my hand, telling me she wanted us to be happy.” If my mother had had the strength to lift her hand, it would have been to wrap it around Evelyn’s throat. The hypocrisy was so thick I could taste it. I was about to bring up the divorce when she spoke, her tone deceptively casual. “Leo, you’ve been so down lately. Stellan is back in the country today, it’s his birthday. The family is having a dinner at the estate. Why don’t we go? It might cheer you up.” She paused, gauging my reaction. “I know you haven’t wanted to see him since… since what happened with your mom. But it’s been so many years, and it wasn’t his fault… We’re family, after all. Stellan has always been sensitive. If we don’t show up, I’m afraid it will hurt his feelings…” So that was her goal. All this effort, just for an excuse to see the man she loved. I cut her off. “Whatever you want.” Evelyn’s face lit up. “I knew you’d understand, Leo. You’re the best.” As soon as we stepped into the Reed family estate, I saw him. Stellan, dressed like a young prince, was clinging to the arm of Evelyn’s stepmother—the family matriarch—giggling as she fed him pieces of cut fruit. He was utterly adored. His eyes found me immediately. A smirk played on his lips. “Grandma,” he whined playfully, “you’re going to make me fat! My uncle Leo is here, you can give the rest to him. It’s not like he has a mom to spoil him anymore.” The matriarch’s gaze swept over me, her expression curdling with disdain as she took in my simple, worn clothes. “Who invited this invalid? Are you trying to infect us all with your bad luck?” she snapped. “We are a family of surgeons, of healers. And you walk around dressed like a beggar. You’re an embarrassment to my daughter. You’ve been married into this family for years and you still can’t even produce a child. You’re useless. Didn’t your dead mother teach you any manners?” Evelyn wasn’t the matriarch’s biological daughter; she was a child from her husband’s first marriage. The old woman had always resented her, pushing her to marry someone who could bring power to the family. It was only after a car accident killed her husband that Evelyn, already a celebrated surgeon with a ‘golden scalpel,’ inherited control of the family’s medical empire. The matriarch had been forced to consent to our marriage, and she’d hated me for it ever since. My inability to have children due to my health was just another reason for her to despise me. Before, Evelyn would have defended me. Now, her eyes were locked on Stellan, filled with a longing so raw it was painful to watch. Stellan bounced over to her, linking his arm through hers. “Auntie Evie,” he cooed, “did you bring me a birthday present?” Evelyn’s face melted into a look of pure adoration. She squeezed his cheek. “Of course I did.” On cue, assistants wheeled in racks carrying twenty-eight bespoke, high-fashion suits, each paired with an equally luxurious, diamond-encrusted watch. Twenty-eight. For his twenty-eighth birthday. He squealed with delight and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Wow, Auntie Evie, you’re the best! These watches are all limited edition! You spent so much. What if a certain someone gets jealous?” he asked, shooting a venomous look in my direction. Evelyn finally seemed to remember I was there. My faded jeans and t-shirt looked even more pathetic next to the opulent display. In all our years together, Evelyn had never once remembered my birthday, let alone bought me a single gift. She looked at me, a flicker of awkwardness in her eyes. She took my hand. “Leo, don’t overthink it. He’s my nephew. I just…” Stellan suddenly clutched his chest, his face scrunching up in pain. “Auntie Evie, my heart feels… fluttery. I hope it’s not acting up again…” Evelyn dropped my hand as if it were on fire. She spun around, wrapping her arms around him, her face a mask of panic. “What do you mean, fluttery? Does it hurt? That’s it, I need to examine you right now.” And with that, in front of everyone, she guided Stellan upstairs. The guests stared at me, their eyes filled with scorn and pity. “No wonder Evelyn buys Stellan all that but won’t even get him a decent shirt. A low-life like him doesn’t deserve to be a part of the Reed family.” “If it weren’t for the fact that she’s his aunt, do you really think she would have married him? I bet he used his mother’s death to guilt her into it. The shameless parasite. Climbing his own mother’s corpse to marry into money.” The whispers grew louder. The matriarch, her face flushed with embarrassment, hissed at me. “You pathetic thing, what are you still standing here for? Get upstairs! Haven’t you humiliated this family enough for one night?” She sneered. “It was a privilege for your dead mother to be operated on by my daughter. It’s her own damn fault her body gave out. You should be grateful, not trying to blackmail us. You’ll get what’s coming to you!” My fists clenched at my sides. A bitter, powerless laugh escaped my lips. She was right. Meeting Evelyn was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I remembered the divorce papers in my jacket pocket. Without a word, I turned and went upstairs to find her. I found them on the second-floor balcony. They were wrapped around each other. Evelyn was leaning against the railing, her hands tangled in Stellan’s hair. “Evie,” he purred, “listen to my heart. Is it still fluttering?” “Stellan, we can’t…” Evelyn’s voice was strained, a weak attempt at resistance, but the flush on her cheeks betrayed her. He silenced her with a kiss, his voice a seductive whisper against her lips. “Don’t you want me, Evie? I know you do. And you’re the only one I want. So you married someone else to avoid a scandal. Fine. But your body… your body belongs to me. Just this once, let’s stop pretending…” That was all it took. Evelyn’s control snapped. She grabbed the back of his head and kissed him back, a desperate, hungry passion that consumed them both. The sound of fabric ripping was followed by a soft, breathless moan that was unmistakably hers. I listened to the filthy, sweet nothings she whispered to him, words she had never once said to me. A sob tore from my throat. I clamped a hand over my mouth and ran, blindly, out of the villa and into the cold night. I don’t know how long I sat on the curb, numb. A splash of searing heat jolted me back to reality. A bowl of instant ramen had been dumped onto my chest, the hot broth scalding my skin. Stellan stood over me, a bottle of expensive whiskey in his hand. He’d changed his clothes. “Leo. Did you enjoy the show? That pathetic look on your face as you ran away… you looked just like a stray dog.” He had seen me. “I hear the artificial heart isn’t working out so well for you. The coughing, the chest pain… must be hard, right? Can’t even properly please your own wife.” He took a swig from the bottle. “Not a problem for me, though. I can go all night. You may be a useless piece of trash, but I have to admit, your heart is top-quality. I was feeling very comfortable a few minutes ago.” His eyes glittered with malice. “You really thought you could marry my Aunt Evie and steal her affection from me? Dream on. She only has eyes for me. You were just a walking, talking incubator for my new heart.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, that wasn’t the first time your mother caught me with your fiancée. The old hag had the nerve to call me shameless. So I tied her to a chair and had her watch while I screwed Amber right in front of her. That’s what really gave her the heart attack. And when you offered to give her your heart? All I had to do was pretend my chest hurt, and just like that, Aunt Evie couldn’t wait to rip it out of you and give it to me.” He grinned, a sickening, triumphant expression. “Oh, right, you were unconscious. You didn’t get to see your mother’s face. Her arms were stretched out, trying to reach you. Her eyes were bulging out of her head, like she wanted to strangle us. But all she could do was watch. The rage is what finally killed her. It was perfect. She called me shameless, so I took her life.” My eyes widened in horror. I couldn’t process it. This… this was the truth of how my mother died. My whole body began to shake. How could they? How could they destroy my mother’s life and speak of it so casually? I raised my hand, a primal scream building in my chest. But Stellan was faster. He upended the whiskey bottle over his own head and let out a piercing shriek. A split second later, a powerful force shoved me to the ground. Evelyn was cradling Stellan in her arms. She turned to me, her face contorted with rage, and screamed, “Leo, what the hell are you doing?!”

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“She’s been crippled for four years, and I’ve waited on her for four years. At some point, the debt is paid, right?” “The thought of her legs… that dead flesh… it makes me sick. Why couldn’t it have been me?” I recoiled, shrinking behind a decorative pillar as the words sliced through the cool night air. A calm, otherworldly voice echoed in my mind. The four-year contract is complete. Does the host wish to renew? My own voice, a silent scream in my head, was immediate. System, I want my legs back. Understood. Initiating contract termination. 1 It was my birthday. I’d been sitting alone with the small, perfect cake for what felt like an eternity. Leo had texted that he was almost there, but the minutes stretched into an hour, and his shadow never darkened the door. Finally, I gave up. With a weary sigh, I maneuvered my wheelchair out of the apartment and down the service elevator. I was just pulling out my phone to call him when I saw him standing near the building’s entrance. A surge of relief washed over me. I was about to call his name, a happy, forgiving sound, but I paused. He wasn’t alone. He was deep in conversation with a few of his friends. Must be work, I thought, a familiar pang of disappointment settling in my chest. That’s why he’s late. I wheeled myself closer, staying in the shadows of the manicured hedges, and their words began to drift towards me. They weren’t talking about work. They were talking about me. “Leo, man, I don’t think Claire can wait much longer,” one of them said. Claire? Who was Claire? “I’m not going to make her wait much longer.” The men standing with Leo were his two closest friends, his self-proclaimed brothers, Mark and Evan. Mark clapped him on the shoulder, his voice booming. “You’ve finally made up your mind? It’s about damn time!” When Leo nodded, a slow, deliberate motion, a grin split Mark’s face. “Seriously, man, I thought you were never going to get rid of Audrey. These past few years, you’ve been climbing the ladder, building an empire… and she’s still just a cripple. The gap between you two is bigger than the Grand Canyon.” I flinched at the word, but I wasn’t surprised. I knew his friends had never liked me, had always seen me as a weight around his ankles. Still, I clung to the belief that their crude opinions couldn’t possibly unravel the bond Leo and I shared. I was wrong. So terribly wrong. “Four years,” Leo said, and the sound of his voice was like a stone dropping into a deep, cold well. He let out a long breath, a sound of profound release. “She’s been crippled for four years, and I’ve waited on her for four years. At some point, the debt is paid, right?” A silent explosion detonated in my skull. I stared at his silhouette, unable to process, unable to believe. “I’m just glad you see it clearly, man,” Mark continued. “I swear, if it was me, she would have driven me insane by now.” “You have no idea,” Leo muttered, shaking his head. “A disabled person… there’s a smell. It’s stale, medicinal. We have that chair professionally cleaned every week, but the scent never really leaves. It’s in the apartment, on the sheets… I can’t stand it anymore.” Even Evan, who was usually quiet and reserved, let out a dry chuckle. “You’ve had it rough, Leo. The fact that you still had to sleep in the same bed with her… makes me want to puke just thinking about it.” The slight curve of Leo’s lips, visible even in the dim light, was a dagger in my heart. “Don’t even get me started,” he said, his voice laced with a bitterness I’d never heard before. “I wish it had been me who was paralyzed that day. I don’t get why she had to save me. If she hadn’t thrown herself at me, maybe we both would have walked away fine. Or maybe this was her plan all along, right? A way to make me owe her forever.” He was right, and he was wrong. Four years ago, Leo was crossing the street, his head buried in his phone. An out-of-control delivery truck was barreling toward him. In a split second of pure instinct, I screamed his name and launched myself at him. But I was a fraction of a second too late. The impact sent us flying. When I came to, Leo was a ruin of blood and twisted limbs, his legs crushed into something unrecognizable. He was such a proud man, an alpha in every sense of the word. His business was just taking off, his empire just beginning to rise. He needed those legs. I remember the moment with perfect, chilling clarity. System, I pleaded, my own body broken and bleeding on the asphalt. Give him my legs. Take mine and give them to him. Host, this exchange is irreversible. He’ll go insane if he wakes up like this. He needs them more than I do. All this time, Leo believed the truck had destroyed my legs. He never knew the truth. They were a gift. A sacrifice I made willingly. I pressed myself deeper into the shadows, my heart hammering against my ribs. Leo’s voice cut through the air again. “Four years. Four. Fucking. Years. Every single day has been torture. Now, just looking at her face makes my stomach turn.” “We should take you out, man,” Mark offered. “Blow off some steam. Let’s hit Vertex.” Leo immediately shook his head. “Can’t. It’s Audrey’s birthday. After tonight… after this one last birthday, we can finally be done. It’s a clean break, you know?” The rest of their conversation blurred into a dull roar in my ears. I don’t remember wheeling myself back to the elevator, don’t remember getting back inside the apartment. When Leo finally came in, he was a whirlwind of apologies and excuses. As we sat at the small table with the birthday cake between us, his phone was a constant presence, his eyes flicking down to the screen every few seconds. He’d always told me it was work, and I’d always believed him. Now, the lie was laughably transparent. “Who’s Claire?” I asked, my voice flat. His head snapped up. His eyes, for a fleeting moment, held a flicker of something unreadable—panic, maybe guilt. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a familiar mask of annoyance. “What are you talking about?” “I’m just asking. Is it a secret?” He quickly recalibrated, forcing a warm, patient smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Honey, you’re misunderstanding. She’s just a business partner. Speaking of which, something’s come up. I… I have to step out for a bit.” “But it’s my birthday.” My voice was barely a whisper. I just wanted to finish this one last meal with him, to preserve the illusion for a few more minutes. A wave of irritation washed over his features, barely concealed. “You already blew out the candles, didn’t you? Be a good girl, Audrey. I’ll be back before you know it.” He smiled, reached out to pat my head, and then snatched his hand back as if he’d touched something hot. He turned and walked out without another word. I wheeled myself to the window and watched him step onto the sidewalk. I saw him take out a handkerchief and furiously wipe the hand that had just touched my hair. Then he bent over, retching into the bushes. I looked at my own useless legs, my expression calm, my heart a frozen block of ice. System, can I get them back now? Host, your current accumulated points are insufficient. A random mission has been generated. Please proceed to Vertex Lounge. I didn’t hesitate. I changed my clothes and left. But when I arrived at the entrance to the sleek, thrumming nightclub, my courage failed me. The bouncer eyed my wheelchair with a mixture of pity and disdain. I felt a desperate urge to flee. The System’s voice, impersonal and insistent, prodded me forward. I finally pushed through the doors. The chaotic energy of the club was a sensory assault. I tried to find a quiet corner, but someone stumbled backward, crashing into my chair. “What the hell? A cripple?” a man slurred, scowling down at me. “They let anyone in here now? Get the hell out of the way!” “Yeah, what’s a gimp doing in a club? Move it!” his friend chimed in. I stammered apologies, my face burning with shame. I tried to turn and leave, to find another way out, but a strong hand clamped down on the handle of my wheelchair, stopping me cold. It was Leo. “What are you doing here?” His voice wasn’t a question. It was an interrogation. “It was so quiet at home,” I said, my voice small. “I just wanted to go somewhere.” Mark sauntered over, a drink in his hand, a superior smirk on his face. “Audrey, come on. You can’t just ‘go somewhere’ like this. This isn’t a place for… someone like you. Can’t you give Leo a break, just for one night?” “I used to come here all the time,” I said, my voice gaining a bit of strength. “Before the accident. I just wanted to see it again.” “That was before,” Mark shot back, his voice dripping with condescension. “Now you’re a useless burden. You’re just getting in everyone’s way. Look around, look at how people are staring at you.” Evan wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?” Mark leaned in theatrically, sniffing the air around me. He recoiled with a look of disgust. “Jesus, Audrey, is that you? The booze in here is strong, but it’s not enough to cover up that… stink.” Through the haze of my humiliation, I thought I heard Leo chuckle. I lifted my head, and my eyes met his across the small space separating us. His face was a mask of cold amusement. “Leo,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You’re just going to stand there and let them say these things to me?” He cleared his throat. “Did they say anything that was untrue? Audrey, don’t make a scene. Just go home. I’ll have my driver take you.” The System reminded me that I had to remain for two hours. A strange, reckless smile touched my lips. “No,” I said, my voice clear and firm. “I’m not going home. And I won’t bother you.” Mark leaned in and whispered something in Leo’s ear. “Claire’s on her way.” Leo’s jaw tightened. He glared at me, his patience gone. “I’m asking you one last time. Are you going home?” “No.” A cruel, chilling smile spread across his face. “You want to play? Fine. Let’s play.” He gave a sharp, almost imperceptible nod. A moment later, his friends swarmed me, laughing and jeering. They grabbed the frame of my wheelchair. And then they lifted me into the air. Panic seized me. I gripped the armrests, my knuckles white, a cold sweat breaking out across my entire body. My clothes clung to my damp skin. They hoisted me up like a trophy, rocking the chair back and forth as they whooped and hollered. Across the room, Leo lounged on a leather banquette, one leg crossed over the other, sipping his drink as he watched me. My eyes found the DJ booth, the pulsating lights, the hypnotic beat. The DJ, a young man with kind eyes, caught my gaze and gave me a small, encouraging wave. Something inside me snapped. The fear receded, replaced by a wild, defiant energy. I let go of the armrests, raised my hands into the air, and started cheering along with the music, a genuine smile on my face. I could faintly hear Mark’s voice below. “Is she gonna puke? Shake her harder!” But from his vantage point, only Leo could see the truth. He could see that in this moment of ultimate humiliation, I had found a bizarre, fleeting moment of joy. Of freedom. With a crash, he slammed his glass down on the table, his face a thundercloud of fury. The next thing I knew, I was falling. They dropped me. The impact was brutal, knocking the air from my lungs and sending me tumbling out of the chair and onto the filthy floor. Leo walked over, his face a perfect picture of feigned concern. “Guys, what the hell? You have to be more careful. You dropped your sister-in-law.” He looked down at me, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face. “Audrey, you okay?” He offered me his hand. I had no other choice. I just needed him to lift me back into my seat. I reached for his hand. At the last possible second, he pulled it away. He staggered back, covering his nose and mouth. “Oh, God.” His friends followed suit, backing away from me as if I were radioactive. Leo threw his head back and roared with laughter. The music in the club seemed to die at that exact moment, plunging the room into a stunned silence. “Audrey!” he boomed, his voice echoing in the sudden quiet. “Did you just… lose control? Again?! My God, we’re in public!” Every eye in the room turned to me. I could feel their stares like physical blows, searing my skin. Mark howled with laughter, a sound so piercing it made my teeth ache. “Wow, Audrey! You really can’t hold it, can you? I mean, at home is one thing, but out here? With all these people? Ugh!” Leo was the one to deliver the final, killing blow, his voice dripping with righteous indignation. “I told you to go home, Audrey. Did you have to do this? Did you have to embarrass us both? You’ve completely ruined my reputation!”

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For ten years, I stood by him, against my parents’ wishes. I was there when he was a nobody with nothing but ambition, and I was there to help him build an empire from the ground up. The day our ten-year anniversary arrived, the day I was finally going to tell my parents we were getting married, he gave the Vice President position—the one that was supposed to be mine—to another woman. When I went to his office to confront him, I was stopped by the sound of her voice, broken by breathless pants. “Declan, if you give the VP job to me, what about Audrey? Aren’t you two supposed to get married?” Declan’s movements were rough, but his voice was as smooth and careless as ever. “Audrey’s been with me for ten years. Who else is going to want her now? Don’t worry. She won’t dare make a scene.” A chasm of ice opened up beneath me. I turned on my heel and dialed a number I hadn’t touched in a decade. “Are you free?” I asked. “I’m thinking of getting married.” 1 The office door was ajar. Inside, Declan was like an animal, taking what he wanted without end. The woman beneath him let out a series of soft cries, her face flushed. My fists clenched, my entire body trembling. Just last night, I’d told my mother with unshakeable confidence that I was finally getting married. But the moment I’d stepped into the office this morning, I heard the news: Declan had given my VP position to someone else. I didn’t even make it to my own desk before I came here, demanding an explanation. I hadn’t realized that taking my job wasn’t enough for him. He had to stage a live porn show in his office, too. The woman, catching her breath, shot me a triumphant little smirk. I didn’t recognize her face at first. It took me a long moment to place it. Chloe. An intern from one of our partner firms. I’d met her exactly once, two months ago, during a tense negotiation. She’d brought in the wrong contracts and her boss had publicly berated her until she cried. I remember speaking up for her, telling him to back off. Two months later, she hadn’t just stolen my promotion, she was sleeping with my boyfriend. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, and my eyes suddenly burned with heat. Chloe glanced toward the door and deliberately raised her voice. “Mr. Ross, Audrey loves you so much. What if she finds out about us? What if she really refuses to marry you?” My heart seized. My fingers twitched. Ten years. At twenty, Declan Ross had knelt before my parents and sworn he would marry no one but me. At thirty, he was a success, and the Vice President title was the promise he had made to them—to me—as proof. The room fell silent for a beat, and then Declan’s voice cut through the air, clear and cold. “Please. Audrey and I are practically an old married couple already. A piece of paper doesn’t mean anything. Let her sulk.” He chuckled. “Better if we don’t get married. That way, I can have my fun, and it’s not technically cheating.” There was another pause. “Besides, some nights… looking at her, I just don’t have the appetite for it anymore.” “She’s thirty, you know? She’s getting old. Not fresh and exciting like you.” His tone was light, playful. Chloe giggled and tapped his chest, her eyes sparkling with victory. I walked away, numb. By the time I reached my office, my face was wet with tears. Sunlight streamed onto my empty chair. I wiped my eyes and sent a single text message. A few seconds later, my phone buzzed with a reply. I allowed myself a small, sharp smile. “What are you looking at so intently?” a deep voice drawled from my doorway, thick with post-coital satisfaction. I flipped my phone face down. Declan stood there, impeccably dressed. If not for the smudge of lipstick blooming on his neck, I might have convinced myself the scene in his office had been a hallucination. He leaned against my desk with a casual air, one hand braced on the surface, the other picking up my pen and idly spinning it. The silence stretched. Finally, he sighed, reaching out to stroke my hair. I flinched away, disgusted. That was the same hand that had just been all over another woman. His whole body carried the lingering scent of sex. Declan’s expression darkened. His hand froze in mid-air before he awkwardly pulled it back. “I know you’re angry,” he said. “But Audrey, it’s just a title. Besides the VP spot, you can have any other position in the company. Anything you want, I’ll make it happen.” I looked him straight in the eye. “What if the Vice President role is the only one I want? Will you give it to me?” When Declan looked at you without a trace of emotion, it was chilling. After years of clawing his way up in the business world, he was no longer the earnest twenty-year-old boy I’d fallen in love with, the one whose only dream was building a future with me. I looked away, a self-mocking smile on my face. Click. He lit a cigarette, his brow furrowed as if he were analyzing a difficult contract. As he exhaled smoke, I could feel his patience wearing thin. “Audrey,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t make this hard on me.” My mouth went stiff. I stared at him, incredulous. “Declan, who is making this hard on whom? I’m thirty. Our ten years are up. You know this was never about the job.” Ten years ago, Declan was a kid from the wrong side of the tracks with nothing to his name. My parents had forbidden me from seeing him. But we were young and stubborn, and the more they tried to keep us apart, the harder we clung to each other. Finally, my father gave in. He gave Declan thirty thousand dollars of his own money as seed capital for his first venture. There was only one condition: if, after ten years, Declan was successful and still loved me just as much, they would drop their objections. But if he failed, or if his heart wavered even for a second, I would have to listen to them and accept the marriage they’d always wanted for me. Declan blew out a plume of white smoke, then crushed the cigarette in my ashtray. His voice was flat. “Audrey, we’re no different from a married couple. You don’t need to be obsessed with a piece of paper. As for your parents, they’ll come around eventually.” He paused. “But Chloe is different. She needs this position.” “Stop making a scene. Be good. The decision is final.” With that, he turned and strode out, his entire posture radiating irritation. He stopped at the door, hesitating for a moment. “By the way, Chloe needs an office. You should move down to the senior manager floor.” He didn’t look back. “And you’ll need to organize a welcome party for her. As the new Vice President, she needs to be introduced with the proper respect. We can’t have people looking down on her. You’re a veteran here; if you send the invitations, everyone will come.” He finally turned, his eyes hard. “Audrey. Business is business, personal is personal. You know what to do, right?” Bang. The door clicked shut. I sagged back in my chair, my gaze falling on a picture frame on my desk. It was a photo of me and Declan from years ago. He was smiling so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners, a world away from the cold, ruthless man he’d become. I reached out and laid the frame face down. Then I stood up and walked to Human Resources. Linda, the HR manager, looked up in shock. “Audrey? You’re resigning?” I nodded. “Uh… Audrey,” she stammered, “Mr. Ross already came by. He said any resignation request from you has to be approved by him personally.” I froze. After ten years, he knew me so well. He knew I couldn’t tolerate betrayal. Getting out of his company wouldn’t be easy. I left her office, defeated. As the elevator doors opened on my floor, I saw a crowd gathered outside my office—Declan’s assistants and secretaries. They saw me and parted silently to let me through. Inside, my office was in chaos. Chloe was sitting comfortably in my chair, directing the cleaning staff as they threw my belongings into trash bags. “That picture frame, toss it. And all those books on the shelf, get rid of them.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Actually, I don’t like any of it. Throw it all out. And scrub this place down. There’s a strange smell in here… it’s disgusting.” She wrinkled her nose and fanned the air as if warding off a foul odor. Her eyes landed on me, and she stood up, feigning surprise. “Audrey! You’re back! I was just having them help you clear things out.” She gave me a sickly-sweet smile. “I took a look, and it didn’t seem like you had anything important, so I told them to just get rid of it all. See how thoughtful I am?” “Audrey,” she continued, oozing fake sincerity, “I’m going to need so much of your help with work from now on. I may be young, but I have to focus my energy on… other things. If I mess anything up, you’ll have my back, won’t you?” She grabbed my hand and swayed it back and forth like we were best friends. But I could see the challenge glittering in her eyes. I pulled my hand away and dismissed everyone in the room. The door clicked shut, leaving just the two of us. The moment we were alone, her sweet facade vanished. She wiped her hand on her skirt as if she’d touched something filthy. “Ugh, the smell of an old woman,” she muttered. Then she clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with mock horror. “Oh, Audrey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that! It’s just… Declan says it all the time, and it just slipped out. You won’t hold it against me, will you?” Her eyes were filled with pure malice. There was nothing accidental about her words. Seeing my calm expression, she decided to push further. She tilted her shoulder, revealing a constellation of dark purple hickies on her collarbone. “Look what he did,” she sighed, her tone dripping with false complaint. “Declan can be such an animal. Now I have to wear turtlenecks for a week. I’m so jealous of you, you can wear whatever you want. With me, he gets so possessive if I even show a little shoulder. The other day we went to a hot spring, and a waiter just walked by our private pool, and he immediately wrapped me up in a towel.” She looked at me, pouting. “Why is he so jealous, do you think?” My gaze drifted to the shattered glass of my picture frame on the floor. “The novelty hasn’t worn off yet,” I said quietly. “He’s always possessive with a new toy.” Chloe’s face twisted in fury, her eyes spitting fire. I just smiled, unbothered. I had seen that side of Declan before. Nothing she could say would surprise me. I was lost in thought and didn’t see the shift in her expression. Suddenly, she grabbed my hand. The next second, she threw herself backward, landing with a heavy thud on the floor. Before I could even process what had happened, a furious voice roared from behind me. “Audrey, what the hell are you doing?” A blur of motion rushed past me. A hand slammed into my shoulder, shoving me so hard I had to grab the edge of the desk to keep from falling. Declan was kneeling beside Chloe, glaring at me with murder in his eyes. “Audrey. Apologize.” My fingers dug into the wood, the knuckles turning white. “I didn’t push her.” He sneered. “Right. You didn’t push her. She just threw herself on the ground. You’re thirty years old, and you’re still playing these childish games? Have you no shame?” My nose stung. Thirty. Thirty. Why did he keep throwing my age in my face? Was I old? Did he only want youth? Then why hadn’t he just broken up with me? Hate coiled in my gut. I bit my lip, refusing to show him any weakness. Chloe let out a little whimper from the safety of his arms. “Declan, don’t blame Audrey. The VP job was supposed to be hers. It’s only natural that she hates me.” She looked up at him, her eyes wet with tears. “Maybe… maybe I should just leave the company.” Declan’s arms tightened around her. “This company doesn’t have her name on it,” he said, his voice cold as ice. “I’m the one who says who stays and who goes. And I won’t tolerate certain people targeting others.” Certain people. He might as well have said my name. A bitter laugh escaped me. “Then fire me.” Crack. The sound was sharp, electric. My head snapped to the side, my cheek exploding with a searing, hot pain. The world went silent. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. Slowly, I raised a hand to my face, my fingers tracing the swelling skin. I looked at Declan, my mind reeling in disbelief. In ten years, he had never once laid a hand on me. Until now. For his new flame. Declan stared at his own hand as if he didn’t recognize it. It was trembling. He looked at me, at my reddening cheek, and his face filled with panic. He reached for me. “Audrey…” I stumbled back, out of his reach. He froze. Just then, Chloe cried out, collapsing against him. “Declan, I think my ankle is twisted. It hurts so much.” The spell was broken. Declan scooped her into his arms and rushed out of the room without a backward glance. I closed my eyes. My phone buzzed. I read the text, took a deep, steadying breath, and walked out of the company for the last time. Back at our apartment, I packed everything that was mine. Not a single bobby pin was left behind. As I dumped the last bag of my things into the garbage chute, my phone started buzzing relentlessly. A text from Chloe. “Does your face still hurt? Declan always plays so rough, he wears me out every time. You should put some ice on it. He was so gentle when he was rubbing my ankle, though~” It was followed by a picture of Declan, his brow furrowed in concentration as he gently massaged her foot. He looked genuinely concerned. Before I could type a reply, another message came through. “Oh, and Audrey? Thanks for organizing my welcome party. I love my new office, too.” “You are coming to the party, right? If you don’t, you’ll miss the big surprise Declan has planned for me. What a shame that would be.” “Or maybe you’re just scared to see how much he loves me. Is that it? Are you too afraid to come?” My fingers paused over the screen. I turned it off. Then, with my signed resignation form in hand, I went to the party. The moment I walked in, the boisterous private room fell silent. My colleagues exchanged nervous glances, their eyes darting between me and the couple at the center of the room. Declan was throwing back a glass of whiskey, his expression unreadable. He flicked a glance at me and then looked away. Chloe was nestled at his side, her foot propped up in a medical boot. She gave me a smug, triumphant smile. “Audrey! You made it! Come, sit down!” she chirped. “My foot is killing me, so I can’t drink. Poor Declan has been drinking for both of us.” She was wearing a designer dress, a string of pale pink pearls at her neck. I had seen the design sketch for that dress on Declan’s phone weeks ago. I had foolishly thought it was a birthday present for me. Now I realized he had probably forgotten my birthday was today. Ignoring the curious and pitying stares from my colleagues, I walked straight to Declan, holding out a file. “There’s a document here that needs your signature. It’s urgent.” Chloe giggled. “Audrey, you’re such a workaholic! Bringing work to a party.” I ignored her, my eyes fixed on Declan. He glanced at the papers in my hand, and his voice softened slightly. “Not tonight, Audrey. We’re not talking business.” “This is urgent.” My tone was non-negotiable. He finally met my gaze. As we were locked in a silent standoff, Chloe chimed in. “Declan, honey, maybe you should just sign it. She’s not going to relax until you do.” After a long moment, Declan snatched the file from my hand. He flipped through it quickly, and seeing it was just a standard form, he scrawled his signature at the bottom. Chloe plucked the file from his hand with a triumphant grin and shoved it into my arms. “See, Audrey? Declan always says you’re a powerhouse. Maybe I should ask you to be my mentor. You could teach me a thing or two.” I looked down at the signed resignation form. A cold smile touched my lips. “I don’t think I’m qualified to teach you anything. I’m afraid Declan would worry too much.” Declan’s brow snapped together, and he shot me a glare. Without a word, he stood up and stalked out of the room. The atmosphere was thick with tension. I walked over to Linda, the HR manager, and handed her the form, completing my official exit right then and there. Then, ignoring the stunned looks from everyone, I walked out. I had just stepped outside the club when a video popped up on my phone from Linda. “Audrey, has Chloe lost her mind?” In the video, Chloe had her arms wrapped around Declan’s neck. Egged on by the others, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. It lasted only three seconds, but it was enough to send the room into a frenzy. Linda’s texts kept coming. “What does he even see in her?” “She has no skills, no connections. Making her VP is a joke. I’m seriously worried about the future of this company.” I sent her a few reassuring words. In the ten years we were together, Declan had always been restrained, except for that one promise: that he would marry me. I thought time and success had made him more mature, more rational. Chloe’s arrival taught me the truth. He hadn’t changed. He just wasn’t impulsive for me anymore. I removed myself from the company group chat, sent Declan a final text that said, “We’re done,” and then blocked his number, his email, and all his social media. A black Maybach was idling at the curb. The tinted window slid down, revealing a familiar profile. “Get in.”

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I was in the bathroom of the bar when I heard my boyfriend Liam’s voice from the next stall over. Through a mix of panting and breathless little gasps, a flirtatious female voice purred, “Liam, how much longer are you going to play this broke boy-toy for that old woman?” Liam chuckled, his tone slick with arrogance. “A little longer. It’s not every day you find a mark this easy.” “She pays my bills, she’s great in bed… honestly, it’s a steal.” I leaned against the cool tile, nodding to myself in silent agreement. He wasn’t wrong. A guy like Liam, who handled the chores and was always available for sex, was exactly my kind of bargain. A perfect house husband for a career-driven woman like me. But my promotion and transfer to the new branch were just around the corner. It was about time to trade him in for a younger, more obedient model anyway. 1 I was only here because Liam had called, his voice a practiced whine, begging me to come pick him up. I figured I’d use the restroom before wading into his drunken friend group, and instead, I stumbled into this little drama. To be honest, when I heard the girl call him a “boy-toy,” I almost laughed out loud. He wasn’t some pampered plaything. He was just… convenient. He kept my apartment clean and warmed my bed. I paid for his time. It was a simple transaction. Did he really think I was hopelessly in love with him? Before I left, I heard the girl giggle again. “Oops. Liam, honey, I think I left a mark on your neck.” Her voice was sickly sweet. “What do you think that bargain-bin girlfriend of yours will do when she sees it? You think she’ll get jealous?” The sound of a kiss, wet and obnoxious. Liam’s voice was a low, smug murmur. “Don’t worry about her. She’s so obsessed with me, she wouldn’t dare say a word.” I knew the girl. Chloe Pierce. Liam’s childhood friend, the one he’d always treated like a precious little doll. Their kissing grew louder, more frantic, impossible to ignore. I made a soft tsk sound with my tongue, stepped out of the restroom, and pulled out my phone. I sent Liam a quick voice note. “I’m here. Where are you?” Less than a minute later, I saw the two of them emerge from the bathroom, clothes disheveled, and slide back into their booth. Liam sent me the table number. When I arrived, they were in the middle of one of those stupid bar games—passing a tiny slip of napkin back and forth, mouth-to-mouth. The paper was so small their lips were practically touching. “Liam.” My voice was swallowed by the bass-heavy music. He saw me in his peripheral vision. A smirk played on his lips. Then, he deliberately cupped the back of Chloe’s head and pressed his mouth to hers. “Whoa! Get it, Liam!” “Alright, man, break it up! You’re gonna make Chloe pass out!” His friends roared with laughter. A few of them who recognized me shot me gleeful looks, waiting for the explosion. I just watched them, and when he finally pulled away, I stepped forward. I hooked a finger under the silver chain around his neck and raised an eyebrow. “You done?” I asked. “Let’s go home.” Liam stared at me, momentarily stunned by my lack of reaction. Then, a lazy smile spread across his face as he wrapped an arm around my waist, melting into me. “Yeah, baby. Let’s go home.” As we left, I could feel their shocked stares burning into my back. I caught snippets of their whispers. “Jesus, does his girlfriend have a thing for being cheated on? She’s not even mad.” “Dude, you don’t get it. A guy like Liam? She’s probably so crazy about him she’s terrified to get angry.” “Still, to be that okay with it… she must be seriously whipped.” Liam must have heard them too, because he pulled me even closer, his arm tightening around me possessively. He dipped his head to kiss my forehead, a placating gesture as if he were soothing a child. I just smiled and quickened my pace. He was just a placeholder, a warm body. A few more nights, and then I’d be gone. As long as he could still perform, I didn’t really care what else he did. 2 I knew what Liam was from the day he approached me. I knew he was rich, and I knew he was playing poor. His reasons for choosing me were pathetically simple. I was an orphan with no family and few friends, which made for a clean break. I was attractive enough, but my demeanor was cool, almost distant—a combination that must have appealed to his desire for a challenge. So, Liam Ashford, trust-fund prince, had entered my life pretending to be a hopeless romantic, a warrior for love. I’ll give him this: he was beautiful. And to sell the act, this spoiled heir had reined in his temper and become impeccably attentive. A gorgeous, obedient man, delivered right to my doorstep. It would have been a waste not to sleep with him. But lately, he’d been getting sloppy, pushing my boundaries, testing my limits. That, combined with my impending move to a new city, meant his expiration date was rapidly approaching. The plan was simple: three more nights. Then I was out. The world is full of pretty boys. The moment we walked through the door of my apartment, his arms were around me from behind, his body pressing into mine. He smelled of cold night air, expensive whiskey, and that unique scent that was just him. He buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Ava,” he murmured. “You’re not mad?” I shook my head. “Why would I be mad?” He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and dangled a pair of sapphire earrings in front of my face. He laughed softly. “You’re just saying that. I know you. You always say the opposite of what you mean.” He moved to fasten one to my earlobe. “Don’t be mad, Ava. Let me make it up to you, okay? Do you like them? I picked them out just for you. Cost me months of my salary.” If I hadn’t seen the sapphire necklace around Chloe’s neck earlier that night—the centerpiece of the collection this set belonged to—I might have actually believed his pathetic little lie. I’d seen the set on the jeweler’s website. The earrings were a complimentary gift with the purchase of the necklace, crafted from the leftover stones. I took the earrings from him, my smile a thin, sharp line. “I love them. Thank you.” Then I walked into the other room and immediately listed them on Poshmark. They wouldn’t fetch much, but keeping them around after he was gone would just be bad energy. Better to get a few bucks for them now. We spent the better part of the night in bed, a tangled, frantic mess, until he was the one begging for mercy, kissing me breathless. Long after he’d fallen into a deep sleep, I remembered an excel sheet I needed to finish for a meeting tomorrow. I quietly slipped out of bed, fired up my laptop, and got to work. Suddenly, a notification pinged. A new email. It was a selfie from Chloe. The sapphire necklace was prominent against her skin, sparkling under a bathroom light. Below the photo, a few lines of text dripped with venom. “Trashy little earrings for a trashy little woman. A perfect match, don’t you think? ;)” “Did you really think he’d buy you a gift if it wasn’t to get me my necklace?” “Do you know what we call you behind your back? Everyone laughs at how desperate you are.” “God, you’re just so pathetic. Paying for a man. How cheap can you get?” I read the message, my expression unchanged, and clicked delete. Honestly, I thought, kids these days. Their insults are so weak. My last boss had said far worse to me before I got him fired. When I slid back into bed, Liam stirred, pulling me into his arms in his sleep. He mumbled my name, his voice thick with dreams. “Ava… don’t go…” “Don’t be so cold to me, okay… Ava…” I patted his head, a soothing gesture one might give a dog, and whispered back into the darkness. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon.” “And I’ll always remember you for your technique and your excellent customer service.” 3 The next day after work, Liam called again, asking me to pick him up. This time, the location was a private-room karaoke bar. I was about to refuse, but he laid it on thick, whining that if I didn’t come, it meant I didn’t care about him, and he’d have to break up with me. Well, there was still one day left. One more night. I couldn’t deny it; I was in the mood. And when a woman gets a craving, her judgment tends to get a little cloudy. With a sigh, I got in my car and drove to the address he’d sent. I pushed open the door to the private room and the scene hit me like a physical blow. Liam was lounging in the center of the plush sofa, with Chloe draped across his lap. She grinned and waved at me, a queen on her throne. “Ava! Thanks for coming.” Her voice was bright and cruel. “Liam’s just getting a little tired of this whole playing-in-love game with you. And since everyone’s here tonight, we figured it was the perfect time to just be honest with you.” Liam tilted his head back, looking at me down his nose, a triumphant smirk on his face. “She’s right, Ava. This has been fun, but I’m getting bored.” “You know a guy with my background could never actually marry someone like you. Besides, you’re getting older. My family would never approve of me bringing home an old woman.” He gestured around the room. “So let’s just end this now, keep things civil. It’s better for everyone.” I processed his words like I would an email from HR, nodding slightly. “Okay. I get it. Are you coming back to my place tonight?” If he was, I could still get one last time in. The room seemed to misinterpret my question, erupting in a wave of derisive laughter. They thought I was begging. “I told you she wouldn’t care! She’s pathetic!” “Now that she knows he’s rich, there’s no way she’s letting go.” “Exactly. And at her age, where’s she gonna find another guy with his kind of money?” Tears of mirth streamed down Liam’s face. He gestured dismissively at the collection of expensive liquor bottles on the table in front of him. “Tell you what,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “You finish all of this for Chloe, and I’ll think about it.” My eyes scanned the bottles. Not bad. High-end stuff. I remembered buying a client a bottle of that same whiskey once; it was a few thousand dollars. Liam must have mistaken my assessment for hesitation, because he decided to up the ante. He pulled out a thick stack of cash and started slapping hundred-dollar bills onto the table. “One drink, one thousand dollars,” he announced to the room. “Finish it all, and I’ll come home with you.” 4 The atmosphere froze for a second, then the other rich kids, smelling blood in the water, eagerly joined in, pulling out their own wallets. “I’ll add five hundred to that!” “Me too! Here’s another four hundred!” They loved nothing more than spending a little pocket change to watch someone humiliate themselves. The pile of cash grew and grew, nearly equaling what I made in a month of working myself to the bone. That settled it. I had to drink. I picked up a half-empty bottle of tequila, tilted my head back, and poured the contents down my throat. The alcohol burned, a searing pain that made my eyes water. The room fell silent, stunned. This woman is drinking like she has a death wish. Even Liam’s expression soured. He frowned, suddenly reaching out and snatching the bottle from my hand. “Ava! What the hell are you doing?!” I said nothing, simply grabbed another bottle and kept going. They really underestimated me. To get to my position, you don’t just have to be smart; you have to hold your liquor. When the last bottle was empty, I swayed on my feet, but my mind was still clear enough. I calmly scooped the cash off the table, stuffed it into my purse, and stumbled out of the room. The world was tilting. I felt a wave of dizziness, a sense of falling. The next thing I knew, I was being lifted into a familiar pair of arms. Liam’s face was a dark storm cloud above me, his jaw clenched. “Are you trying to kill yourself?!” he bit out, his voice a furious whisper. “You could have just asked me! You could have just admitted you were wrong! Why do you always have to be like this?!” I was drunk, but his words were so absurd I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s rich. The great Liam Ashford, tricking me and breaking my heart, all so he could hear me beg for forgiveness?” His face flushed, a mixture of anger and shame. “You’re impossible,” he grumbled. “No wonder no one wants you at your age.” He carried me out and settled me into his car. I rested my head on his lap and drifted off. When I woke up, I was in my own bed, and he was gently pulling the covers over me. My eyes fluttered open and met his. He was just watching me. He looked away instantly, the tips of his ears turning a tell-tale red. “I thought you were dead,” he said, his tone unnecessarily harsh. “Too bad you survived. I’m leaving. You can die alone here for all I care.” He turned to go, but he felt a tug on the hem of his shirt. A flicker of something—relief? hope?—crossed his face. He turned back, ready to hear me apologize, but instead, I just asked a single question. “You wanna?” I admit, I was probably still drunk. Liam’s face went crimson, whether from anger or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell. He lunged forward, grabbing the back of my head and crashing his lips against mine. It was a punishing, furious kiss, so rough he split my lip. He pulled back, looking utterly wounded, and hissed, “Ava, what do you think I am? Some kind of gigolo?!” 5 My head was already pounding from the alcohol, and his shouting just made it worse. I winced, pressing a hand to my temple and sinking back against the pillows. “Whatever you want,” I mumbled. Liam’s anger seemed to falter. He had felt the heat radiating from my skin when he touched me. He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. It was burning up. “You… you have a fever?” He was about to get up to find some medicine when his phone rang. It was Chloe. Her tearful, whining voice was perfectly audible through the speaker. “Liam, honey, why aren’t you back yet? Are you still with that old hag? Come back to me!” A flicker of his old arrogance returned to Liam’s face. He leaned over me, holding the phone so I could hear. “See? I told you. I’m never short on options.” He looked down at me, a smug glint in his eyes. “Tell you what. Apologize to me, a real apology, and I’ll stay and take care of you.” My head was spinning. I was in no condition to sleep with him tonight, and I was leaving tomorrow anyway. It wasn’t worth the effort. I simply rolled over, turning my back to him. Aside from his face and his body, he had nothing left that I wanted. Being so blatantly dismissed was a new experience for Liam. His face darkened. Without another word, he stood up and stormed towards the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, firing one last shot over his shoulder. “Ava Harrison, we’re done! We’re broken up! And don’t you dare come crawling back to me, begging me to take you back!” The door slammed shut, rattling the frame. My head felt heavier and heavier. I drifted into a feverish, disorienting sleep. When I finally woke up, it was nearly three in the morning. I knew, with a chilling certainty, that if I didn’t get some medicine, the fever would get dangerously high. But my body was limp, my limbs heavy as lead. I didn’t have the strength to get out of bed, let alone find a pharmacy. And I didn’t have any medicine in the apartment. After a moment of deliberation, I made a choice. I called Liam. I knew how it would look. Pathetic. Weak. But what was pride worth? Was it more important than my life? The call connected, and Liam’s voice, dripping with sarcasm, came through the line. “What, calling to say your last goodbyes? A little dramatic, don’t you think? We already broke up.” Chloe’s shrill voice chirped in the background. “Liam! You promised you wouldn’t talk to that bitch anymore! If she’s dying, let her die! She deserves it for how she treated you!” Her words were meant for me to hear. I ignored her and spoke to Liam, my voice raspy and weak. “Liam, I need you to bring me some medicine. I think… I think I’m really sick.” “The delivery apps aren’t taking orders this late. I wouldn’t be calling you if I had any other choice.” My breath hitched. “Please. I’m asking you. Just this once.” It took a surprising amount of effort just to get the words out. I was sweating, exhausted from the strain. There was a pause on his end. He was surprised to hear me say please. Then, he laughed, a cold, careless sound. “Ava, seriously? Is this your pathetic excuse to get me to come back? You could have just asked.” “It’s just a fever. How bad can it be?” “But fine. You want me to come back? I’m still pretty pissed off. So here’s the deal. You record a video of yourself, on your knees, begging me to take you back. Send it to me. Then I’ll come over.”

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The year Liam was at his poorest, he was drowning in a debt that felt like an ocean, tens of thousands of dollars pulling him under. He couldn’t even afford groceries most weeks. My heart ached for him, so I spent my nights and weekends running a small stall on the busiest street downtown, selling handmade ornaments and little gift boxes, anything to help him climb out of the hole. On Christmas Eve, the air thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and cold promise, a young couple stopped at my stall. They bought a small, hand-painted glass apple, and the girl, her cheeks flushed from the cold, smiled at me. “Merry Christmas,” she said. “I hope you and your boyfriend have a love that lasts forever.” I smiled back, a genuine, warm thing that reached my eyes. I watched them walk away, hand in hand, and decided to pack up early, to go home and surprise Liam. Then I looked up, and my world tilted on its axis. Across the crowded street, under the festive string lights, was Liam. My Liam, who was supposed to be across town on a double shift, delivering takeout to make ends meet. He wasn’t in his worn-out delivery jacket. He was with a girl, someone I’d never seen before, who looked like she’d been spun from sugar and innocence. Her arm was looped through his, her head resting on his shoulder as she giggled about something. “Oh, Liam,” she whined, her voice carrying on the crisp air. “When are you going to get tired of this ‘poor boy’ act?” 1 I didn’t realize they were walking toward me until they were almost there. As they drew closer, the details sharpened into a cruel, high-definition picture. Liam was wearing a tailored wool coat, the kind that costs more than my semester’s tuition. He moved with an easy, careless grace that was utterly foreign, the quiet confidence of someone who had never wanted for anything. He was a stranger. His eyes, those beautiful, familiar eyes, swept over me and my little stall without a flicker of recognition. He was a customer, I was the girl selling trinkets on the street. He casually picked up the most elaborately packaged glass apple, the one I’d saved for a special sale. “Wrap this up nicely,” he instructed, his voice cool and detached as he handed it to me. I stared at his face, my own hidden behind a thick winter scarf. Disbelief was a cold knot in my stomach. Why wasn’t he working? Who was this girl? And why was he dressed like a prince when he’d told me he could barely afford new socks? Was this a lie? Or something else? I forced down the wave of questions, my voice muffled by the fabric as I looked up, meeting his gaze. “Is this for your girlfriend, sir?” The words were quiet, but loud enough for both of them to hear. I dug my nails into my palms, my entire being focused on his face, searching for any crack in the facade. But there was nothing. Liam’s expression remained placid, bored even. It was the girl, Chloe, who reacted. Her lip curled in disgust. “Ugh, as if. I don’t want that cheap garbage.” Liam blinked, then a small, amused smile touched his lips. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of her silky hair behind her ear. “Relax, sweetheart. This is for Ava. When we get back to my place, I’ll have a few crates of organic Fuji apples flown in for you.” She melted against him, her voice a saccharine purr. “You’re the best, Liam. But seriously, when are you going to tell Ava the truth? This has gone on long enough.” She sighed dramatically. “If you hadn’t lost that stupid game of Truth or Dare, you never would have had to ask her out in the first place. I can’t believe she’s still clinging to you.” Then, her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, laced with venom. “I told you, all these charity cases are the same. They just smell the money on you.” Her words hit me like a physical blow, a crack of thunder that left my ears ringing. I ducked my head, pretending to fuss with the wrapping paper as tears burned hot behind my eyes. For his money? I thought of the past two years. The money I’d spent on him—on his rent, his groceries, his ‘debt’—had to be close to ten thousand dollars. My savings. My emergency fund. All of it, gone. If he was so rich, why had he let me? Why had he lied? I lived in a constant state of anxiety, skipping meals to save a few dollars, wearing my coats until they were threadbare, all because I was terrified his lenders would show up at our door again. Was it fun for him? Watching me play the fool? All those nights I’d held him, telling him everything would be okay, he must have been laughing inside. A bitter fire began to burn in my chest. I wanted to scream, to demand an answer. But before I could speak, Liam’s voice cut through my thoughts, a low murmur meant for Chloe. “Hey, come on. I haven’t told Ava who I am yet, so you can’t go spreading it around campus, okay?” Chloe pouted. “Liam, don’t tell me you’re actually starting to like her?” His body went rigid for a split second before he scoffed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just having some fun with her. You think I’d ever be serious about a girl like that?” His gaze, sharp and questioning, suddenly landed back on me. “Hey, lady. Is it ready yet?” I looked up, right into his eyes. The questions I wanted to scream died in my throat. My hand, trembling slightly, held the bag out to him. Chloe snatched it from my grasp before he could. “Come on, Liam,” she urged, pulling him away. “There are so many other stores I want to see.” I watched their backs disappear into the throng of Christmas shoppers, a thousand tiny needles pricking at my heart. So this is what betrayal felt like. It wasn’t a clean break, but a slow, grinding pain. He’d told me he wore his tattered clothes because he was afraid of collectors recognizing him. I’d believed him. I’d bought him new shirts and a warm coat, none of which I’d ever seen him wear. When I asked, he’d said they were too nice, that he was scared of ruining them, that he was saving everything I gave him like a precious treasure. And I, like an idiot, had felt a surge of tenderness for him. It had only made me work harder. It was all a lie. He must have looked at me every single day and seen a pathetic, gullible fool. My love, my sacrifice—it was all just a game for a rich boy with too much time on his hands. I closed my eyes, the festive cheer of the street suddenly feeling mocking and cruel. The energy to sell anything else had evaporated. Shivering in the wind that cut straight through my thin coat, I packed up my cart and began the long, lonely walk home. I didn’t know that after I left, Liam returned, a frown creasing his handsome face as he stared at the empty patch of sidewalk where my stall had been. He’d heard something in the vendor’s voice, a familiar cadence that had unsettled him. But there was no one there. It must have been his imagination. “See, Liam? I told you it was nothing,” Chloe said, her voice laced with impatience. “Besides, even if Ava found out, she’d probably just cling to you even tighter.” He scanned the crowd one last time, a faint, inexplicable unease settling in his gut, before letting her pull him away. He just hoped he was wrong. Back in our small, drafty apartment, I stared blankly at the ceiling. The sound of a key in the lock made my stomach clench. Liam walked in, holding a small, elegantly wrapped bag—the one from my stall. His voice was bright, full of the manufactured cheerfulness he always used with me. “Ava, baby, look what I brought you!” I didn’t answer. Liam was beautiful. There was no other word for it. He had finely sculpted features, and a small mole just below the corner of one of his expressive, almond-shaped eyes. When he looked at me, those eyes had always seemed to overflow with a love so profound it made me feel like the only person in the world. He was tall, over six feet, with broad shoulders and long legs. Even in the cheap, secondhand clothes he wore for me, he carried himself with an innate elegance. I’d once asked him why he didn’t try modeling to make extra money. He’d deflected, mumbling something about it being too competitive. Now I knew the real reason: he couldn’t risk someone from his real life recognizing him. He couldn’t risk me finding out and latching onto him for good. He came over to the couch and wrapped his arms around me from behind, nuzzling his face into my neck. His lips were warm against my skin. “Why so quiet?” he whispered. I gently pried his hands from my waist and slid away from his embrace. “I’m just tired,” I said, my voice flat. The energy to play along, to continue this charade, was gone. I was about to confront him, to ask him everything, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Liam pulled it out. A flicker of something—guilt?—crossed his face as he read the screen. He saw me watching and quickly shoved the phone back into his pocket, forcing a casual smile. “It’s my boss,” he explained. “Things are crazy tonight, they need me to come back in for a few hours.” I said nothing. I didn’t have to. He filled the silence himself, pulling a soft cashmere scarf from the bag he’d brought. He looped it around my neck, his fingers brushing against my skin. His voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur. “I hope my Ava knows I want to be by her side for every holiday.” I looked up at him then. The little mole by his eye seemed to catch the light. I used to love his eyes, how they made me feel so completely seen, so cherished. Now, I couldn’t read them at all. They were just a beautiful, empty reflection. “Liam, I…” He cut me off, leaning in to kiss my forehead, his tone laced with a convincing regret. “I know, baby. I hate that I have to leave you for even a second. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.” And with that, before I could say another word, he was gone. I stared at the closed door. In the brief moment his phone screen had been angled toward me, I had seen the sender’s name. It was Chloe. The message read: The fireworks by the lake are gorgeous. Wish you were here. A dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips. What was I even holding on to? Maybe, deep down, I’d known something was wrong for a while now. I’d just chosen not to see it. But now the truth had been flayed open, raw and bleeding, and the pain in my chest was a physical weight, crushing the air from my lungs. I fell into a fitful sleep, my dreams a chaotic reel of my time with Liam. I woke to a damp pillow, which I stripped from the bed and threw into the trash without a second thought. It was part of a matching set we’d bought together. It didn’t matter anymore. For months, I had pinched every penny, denied myself every small comfort, all to save a little extra money for him. And in return, I got this. A lie. A joke. My gaze fell on the thin coat I’d worn to the stall, still hanging by the door. It was useless against the winter wind; the cold seeped in from every direction. I took it down, folded it neatly, and dropped it into the trash can on top of the pillowcase. Then I called a cab and went to the largest, most expensive department store in the city. The moment I stepped through the revolving doors, I saw them. Liam and Chloe, standing near the jewelry counter, laughing at something he’d said. My first instinct was to turn and walk away, to pretend I hadn’t seen them. But Liam’s eyes were sharp. He spotted me. “Ava? What are you doing here?” I froze, the question catching me off guard. For a second, I couldn’t figure out what he meant by it. Chloe’s arm tightened around his. She looked me up and down, her expression a mask of pure condescension. “This place is a little out of your price range, isn’t it?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The air around us felt thick, heavy with unspoken things. Their questions were so full of holes, of contradictions. How had I never noticed before? It’s true what they say—sometimes you have to step away from the painting to see the whole picture. I took a deep breath, deciding it wasn’t worth it. I turned to leave. Liam sidestepped, blocking my path. “Since you’re here, you can help us pick out a Christmas present.” “Help who? Chloe?” I forced a cold, brittle laugh. “Sorry. I think I’ll pass.” The flesh of my palm stung where my nails were digging in. I had never, not once, said no to him. The look of genuine shock on his face was almost satisfying. “Ava, don’t be like that,” he said, his voice laced with a frustrated sigh. “Chloe is just my sister.” I held his gaze for a long moment. The little mole by his eye seemed to disappear into the shadows. “What kind of sister?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “The kind you kiss under the mistletoe?” Without waiting for an answer, I pushed past him and walked out of the store. From behind me, I could hear his strained voice trying to soothe her. “She’s just upset, Chloe. Don’t pay any attention to her.” Back on campus, I made it to my Political Science lecture fifteen minutes early, a first for me. The professor raised an eyebrow in surprise. He wasn’t used to seeing me. Between my classes and the stall, I was usually sprinting in at the last possible second, if I wasn’t late. My reputation with him was not stellar. I saw a flicker of approval in his eyes, but before he could say anything, Chloe swept into the lecture hall, a stack of books in her arms. She made a point of sitting right next to me. As she arranged her things, she let her left wrist fall onto the desk with a delicate clink. A gold chain bracelet, studded with tiny, winking diamonds. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice a low purr meant only for me. “Liam gave it to me.” I didn’t look at her. I just turned my gaze to the front of the room. My non-reaction seemed to throw her off. She sat in silence for the rest of the lecture. But as soon as the professor dismissed us, her voice rang out, high and panicked. “Oh my god! My bracelet! It’s gone!” She put on a convincing show of tears. “My boyfriend just gave it to me today! Please, can everyone help me look?” A sick feeling washed over me. I knew exactly where this was going. I started packing my bag, desperate to get out of there, but as I lifted my textbook, the gold bracelet slid from between the pages and clattered onto the floor. Chloe gasped and snatched it up. She pointed a trembling finger at me, her eyes wide with manufactured betrayal. “Ava! I can’t believe you! You stole my bracelet! My boyfriend gave this to me!” Her voice was loud, catching the attention of everyone still in the room. Murmurs and accusatory glances turned in my direction. I felt trapped, voiceless. I just wanted to disappear. And then I saw him. Liam was standing by the door, his face a thunderous mask, his eyes dark and fixed on me. “You told me you didn’t want a gift,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “So why would you steal hers?” I stared at him, stunned. The injustice of it all was a lump in my throat. “You really believe I did this?” The words came out as a wounded whisper. He didn’t have to answer. His silence was answer enough. He walked over, his expression cold and unforgiving. He placed a small, beautifully wrapped box on my desk. “I really thought you were different,” he said, his voice laced with disappointment. “I guess I was wrong.” He didn’t give me another glance. He just took Chloe’s hand and led her out of the room, leaving me alone in a sea of judging eyes. My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t draw a full breath. Back in my apartment, I opened the box. Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, was a silver bracelet. It was a near-perfect copy of Chloe’s, just without the diamonds. A consolation prize. A cheap copy for the cheap girl. I stared at it for a long time before closing the lid and shoving the box into the back of a drawer. A bitter smile twisted my lips. He didn’t even like me. He just liked the performance of liking me. And now he was giving me a knockoff of his real girlfriend’s gift as some kind of parting insult. This was the first expensive thing he had ever given me. Was he done with the game? Was this his way of ending it? I didn’t know. And I was too tired to care. I just knew I had to talk to him, to end this charade once and for all. I didn’t owe him a thing. And he had no right to humiliate me. Lying in bed, I scrolled through my phone, my thumb stopping on a post from the campus confessions page. It was a picture of Liam and Chloe from earlier that day, a candid shot of them laughing. The caption read: The King of Comp-Sci and the Queen of the Art School. Name a more iconic duo. The comments were a flood of heart emojis and congratulations. Buried deep in the thread was a single, confused comment: Wait, isn’t he dating Ava Miller? It was quickly lost in the tide. I turned off my phone and closed my eyes, the familiar ache returning to my chest. You can’t spend months loving someone, even a version of someone that doesn’t exist, and not feel the loss. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a text from Liam. Meet me at The Crestview Hotel this weekend. And pick out a nice gift to apologize to her. I stared at the message. This weekend was his birthday. So this was it. The final act. He was going to end things at his own birthday party. I hesitated. The gift I’d gotten him, the one I’d been working on for months, was already wrapped. It was a hand-bound book of sketches I’d made of all our favorite places, a deeply personal, heartfelt thing meant to show him he was cherished. Now, the thought of giving it to him made me feel sick. After days of wrestling with myself, I went. I took the gift with me. Not for him, but for me. It would be my final farewell to the foolish, hopeful girl I used to be. He was waiting outside the hotel entrance when I arrived. He was dressed down in jeans and a hoodie, still keeping up the pretense for me. I didn’t bother to call him on it. He looked anxious, pacing back and forth. He must have called me a dozen times, all of which I’d ignored. The relief that washed over his face when he saw me was palpable. He rushed over. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” My heart was beating a slow, steady rhythm. “I have something to tell you,” I said quietly. Before he could ask, the hotel doors swung open and Chloe came running out, dressed in a red party dress that looked like it belonged to a princess. Liam immediately shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “It’s freezing out here. What are you doing?” His voice wasn’t angry, just soft with a gentle, chiding affection. She snuggled into his chest. “I was worried about you,” she cooed. Watching them, the last bit of air left my lungs. I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them, my resolve hardening into steel. “Liam,” I said, my voice clear and firm. “We’re over.” At that exact moment, the screech of tires sliced through the air. A car, coming too fast, was careening toward the curb. Instinctively, Liam grabbed Chloe, pulling her back and shielding her with his body. But in the chaos, in the one spot he couldn’t see, Chloe’s hand shoved hard against my back. I had been about to step back, to get out of the way. But the push sent me stumbling forward, directly into the car’s path. In the split second as my body was thrown into the air, my last glimpse was of Liam, his arms wrapped tightly around Chloe, murmuring words of comfort into her hair. She was the one who looked like the victim. I was just the collateral damage. As my body hit the pavement with a sickening thud, a strange sense of peace washed over me. It’s okay. This is okay. I don’t owe you anything anymore, Liam.

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The blue crabs from home arrived on a Tuesday, a dozen of the heaviest, fattest ones my mom could find, shipped overnight from Maryland. A taste of home, just for me. That evening, I steamed them perfectly, the scent of Old Bay seasoning filling the kitchen, and arranged them on our largest platter. With the five of us, it was a perfect two apiece. But by the time I brought the last of the side dishes to the dining room, the platter was already ravaged. Empty. My in-laws and my son, Leo, were happily working on their second crab each. And Ethan, my husband—a man who claims to have a crippling aversion to messes—was patiently, meticulously picking crabmeat for Aubrey, his childhood sweetheart who had just moved back from London. He saw me and, without missing a beat, issued a familiar command. “Aubrey’s crazy about these crabs, Sophie. Tell your mom to send more.” He gestured with his chin towards the kitchen. “And go make some ginger tea. Too much crab isn’t good for you, and Aubrey’s always been delicate.” I looked at the mountain of discarded shells next to Aubrey’s plate—four of them, a bright orange graveyard—and a bitter smile touched my lips. I untied my apron. “Ethan, I want a divorce.” 1 The words dropped into the cheerful chatter like a stone, sinking all the sound to the bottom of the room. Ethan didn’t even look up. He was using a small fork to pry the last, sweet morsels of backfin meat from a shell, placing them carefully onto Aubrey’s plate. Only when he was finished did he bother to glance at me, his eyes cool and distant. “What is it this time? Did I not text you back fast enough? Wear a shirt you don’t like?” The casual, practiced nature of his dismissal, laced with a faint, almost imperceptible note of mockery, sent a sharp pang through my chest. It was true, I had threatened divorce over small things before. But he never understood that it wasn’t about the small things; it was about the crushing weight of his indifference that each small thing revealed. It was the same now. He knew I was upset, but he couldn’t be bothered to understand why. And I was just so tired. “I’m serious, Ethan.” At this, Aubrey set down her fork, her eyes welling up instantly. “Sophie,” she began, her voice trembling slightly, “is this because he was helping me with my crab? I’m so sorry, it’s just… it’s a habit. I always forgot how, and Ethan was always there to do the tricky parts for me.” She was apologizing, but the glint of triumph in her eyes was unmistakable. Ethan looked at me as if I were a toddler throwing a tantrum. “This is really what it’s about?” he asked, incredulous. “Sophie, she’s not like you. She’s never had to do this kind of stuff. She doesn’t know how.” He didn’t even hear the thick, syrupy fondness dripping from his own words. He’d forgotten all the times I’d playfully asked him to peel a shrimp for me, only to be met with a look of disgust. “I have a thing about messes, you know that. You can do it yourself.” I glanced down at my own hands, the nails short and practical, the skin rough from years of housework. Then I looked at Aubrey’s—perfectly manicured, pale, and delicate. Before I married Ethan, my hands had looked like that, too. The bitterness rose in my throat like bile. I bit my lip, forcing my voice to remain steady. “It’s your choice to take care of her, Ethan. But those crabs… my mother sent those for me.” He let out a short, dismissive laugh. “Over a few crabs? You don’t even like them that much. Aubrey loves them, so I gave them to her. What’s the problem?” I’ve adored crabs since I was a child. My parents bought a share in a local fishery just to make sure I always had the best. I had told Ethan this story countless times. I had just shared my excitement with him over text two days ago. “Honey, Mom says the crabs are perfect this year, she’s sending the biggest ones for us. You know they’re my absolute favorite.” “Two for each of us.” “I’ll make sure to have ginger tea ready. They’re too ‘cold’ for Mom and Dad and Leo, you know how they get.” His only reply at the time was “Ok.” I had assumed he was busy with work. Now I realize he probably never even read the messages. He couldn’t remember my favorite food in the world, but he remembered, without prompting, that Aubrey was “delicate.” Aubrey, ever the actress, pushed her plate forward with a show of magnanimity. “Sophie, if you want them this badly, you can have mine. It’s okay. I don’t want you to make things hard for Ethan.” My six-year-old son, Leo, his hands and face glistening with butter and crabmeat, pouted. “Mommy, you can’t have Auntie Aubrey’s crabs. Daddy peeled those special for her.” My mother-in-law’s face hardened. “Aubrey is a guest. It’s only right that she gets them. If you’re that desperate, go to the market and buy some tomorrow. It’s hardly something to threaten a divorce over. Who do you think you’re scaring?” I looked around the table at their faces, each one a mask of righteous indignation, and felt my heart sink into a cold, dark place. This time, I didn’t back down. My eyes burned, but I repeated my point. “My mother sent them. For me.” Ethan rubbed his temples, a rare flicker of compromise in his expression. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop making a scene. If you want crabs, I’ll buy you more another day. But Aubrey is here. Don’t ruin the evening.” He looked at me, his voice softening into the tone one uses to placate a child. “Go make the ginger tea for Aubrey. And this talk about divorce… I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear it.” He thought this was just another tantrum, a childish fight over a piece of food. No one understood. That empty platter wasn’t the problem. It was the final straw. My voice came out quiet, possessed by a calm that felt foreign even to me. “I’m not making a scene, Ethan. And this stopped being about a few crabs a long time ago.” “Tomorrow morning, I’m calling a lawyer.” Without another glance at any of them, I turned and walked to our bedroom. 2 I lay on the bed, the door closed, and listened to the muffled sounds of their conversation from the living room. Aubrey’s fragile, weeping voice drifted through the wood. “Ethan, Sophie doesn’t want me here. I should go.” Then Ethan’s, patient and soothing. “Aubrey, sit down. This has nothing to do with you.” And then, when he spoke of me, his voice was sharp with irritation. “She just gets these ideas in her head. It’s ridiculous. You just got back to the country, you don’t have any friends here yet. I’m just looking out for you, like any old friend would.” “Old friend?” I whispered the words to the ceiling. A reel of images flickered through my mind. The framed photo of him and Aubrey on his bookshelf, polished and dust-free, while he couldn’t remember where we kept our own wedding album. The time Aubrey texted a list of American foods she missed, and he had me cook every single one. Our anniversary dinner, when he’d left me stranded in a car on the side of the highway because Aubrey called him, crying about something trivial. Aubrey was a splinter, lodged deep in the heart of our marriage. And Ethan was the one who kept pushing it deeper. Now, here I was, bleeding out from a thousand tiny wounds, and all he could say was, “We’re just old friends.” Leo’s petulant voice piped up from the living room. “Yeah, Mommy is so mean. She’s not nice and gentle like Auntie Aubrey. I wish Auntie Aubrey could be my mommy.” Then came my father-in-law’s angry growl, clear as day. “Just leave her be! She’s addicted to the drama. Throwing a fit like this over a few damn crabs. It’s embarrassing.” I stared at the ceiling, a vast and desolate emptiness spreading through my chest. After I married Ethan, I gave up my career. I devoted myself to this family, to caring for his parents, to raising our son. And in the end, not a single one of them would speak a word in my defense. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a text from my mom. “Sweetie, did the crabs get there okay? How were they? I made sure to pick out the biggest, fattest ones for you. I know you love them.” My eyes instantly flooded with tears. How could I possibly answer her? How could I tell her that I hadn’t tasted a single bite of the gift she’d so lovingly sent? That more than half of them had ended up in the stomach of my husband’s “old friend”? My fingers trembled as I typed out a reply. “They were delicious, Mom. The best yet. Thank you.” I closed the message thread and opened a browser. I booked the first flight back to Maryland for the next morning. Outside, the front door opened and closed. Ethan was taking Aubrey home. A long time passed before he returned. I heard his footsteps go down the hall, not to our bedroom, but to the guest room. He was giving me the silent treatment, waiting for me to come to my senses and crawl back to him with an apology. It was how these things always ended. But then my phone lit up again. A text from an unknown number. It was Aubrey. “Thanks for taking care of Ethan for me these last seven years.” I ignored it. A moment later, another message came through. It was a picture of her and Ethan, their arms wrapped around each other. Then another, of them holding hands. And a third, a soft-focus kiss, his eyes closed. The photos were time-stamped. Most were from the last few weeks, since she’d been back. “Don’t you get it, Sophie? He’s always loved me. If I hadn’t gone to London, you would have never even been in the picture.” “Do yourself a favor and get out before he has to kick you out. That would be so humiliating for you.” I didn’t reply to her taunts. I just calmly saved every single photo. If this was going to court, they would be Exhibit A. 3 The next morning, I walked out of the bedroom into a disaster zone. The dining table was still littered with the dirty dishes and crab shell debris from the night before. My father-in-law, dressed in his workout clothes, saw me and scowled. “What are you standing there for? Clean this place up. All you do is cause trouble, never anything useful. You expect us to live in this filth?” I didn’t move. He was about to launch into another tirade when Ethan emerged from the guest room. He looked frantic, pulling on a jacket as he rushed toward the door. I stepped in front of him. “You said we’d see the lawyers today.” He brushed my arm away, his brow furrowed with annoyance. “I don’t have time for that today.” “It won’t take long,” I insisted. He suddenly exploded, his voice a raw shout. “Enough! Sophie, when are you going to stop this? Aubrey was so distraught over what you did last night that she fell down the stairs this morning. She broke her leg. And you still have the nerve to pull this stunt?” His words were a signal. His parents immediately crowded around him, their faces etched with concern. “Oh my god, is it serious?” “Is she at the hospital? She’s all alone here, no family. We should go see her.” Even Leo, now awake, started clamoring to go with them. Ethan shot me one last venomous glare before ushering the three of them out the door, leaving me alone in the silent, cavernous living room. I couldn’t help but remember the time I was hit by a car in the grocery store parking lot. Terrified, I had called Ethan ten times in a row, each call going straight to voicemail. When he finally picked up, his voice was a blade of impatience. “Sophie, I’m not a doctor. If you’re hurt, go to the hospital. Calling me isn’t going to do anything.” Not wanting to worry his parents or Leo, I had dragged myself to the emergency room alone, my leg throbbing with pain. I checked myself out after only one night, anxious to get home. But when I walked through the door, there was no concern, only cold, hard blame. “Are you blind? How do you even manage to get hit by a car?” “So now you’re injured? Who’s going to do the housework? Who’s going to take Leo to school?” I shook the memory away and started to pack. I had just zipped my suitcase when my phone rang. It was Ethan. I answered, and his voice came through the line, dripping with entitlement. “Sophie, Aubrey’s leg is going to take a while to heal, and I can’t get away from work. You need to come to the hospital and take care of her for a few days.” He continued without taking a breath. “And before you come, clear out the guest room. When Aubrey’s discharged, she’ll stay with us for a while to recover. That way you can make her some of that bone broth she likes every day.” “No,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m not doing that.” His voice rose to a shout on the other end. “Sophie! You’ve gone too far!” “If you hadn’t thrown your little fit, none of this would have happened! You caused this mess, and now you have to take responsibility for it.” He hung up before I could respond. I picked up my suitcase and walked out the door. I wasn’t going to the hospital. I was going to see my best friend, Jenna. She was a lawyer. When Jenna heard I was finally filing for divorce, she didn’t seem surprised at all. In fact, she clapped her hands in delight. “It’s about damn time! I never could stand that jerk Ethan. Let him and that snake Aubrey have each other.” She paused, her expression turning serious. “But what about Leo? Are you going for full custody?” My heart clenched. I thought of my son, wishing another woman was his mother. For the first time, the fog of maternal obligation cleared, and I saw the situation with a cold, sharp clarity. “No,” I said. “He can have him.” 4 When I returned to the house to pick up the last of my things, they were all back. And so was Aubrey, the woman with the supposedly severe leg injury. She was reclining on the sofa like a tragic queen, surrounded by her court of three adults and one child, all fussing over her. The moment he saw me, Ethan’s gentle expression vanished, replaced by a dark scowl. “Where have you been? The house is a wreck, you didn’t clean up, and you ignored me when I told you to go to the hospital.” “I had things to do,” I said vaguely. He narrowed his eyes. “What could you possibly have to do?” He waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. You’re back now. Since you wouldn’t go to the hospital, I brought Aubrey here.” He said it as if he’d done me a great favor. “You can take care of her here at home. It’ll save you the trip.” Before I could form a response, he bent down and scooped Aubrey into his arms, heading toward the master bedroom. “I’ll get her settled,” he announced. Aubrey shot me a triumphant look over his shoulder, then clutched at his collar with a feigned panic. “Oh, Ethan, I couldn’t possibly stay in the master bedroom…” Ethan turned his head and looked at me. “The master is bigger, and it gets better sunlight. It’s better for her recovery. Aubrey will stay in here for the time being. You can move into the guest room.” I just stood there, stunned. He had completely erased me from the equation. “Well, what are you waiting for?” my mother-in-law snapped, her voice sharp with impatience. “Get in the kitchen and start making dinner. We’re all starving.” My father-in-law and Leo sat amidst the mess, not moving a muscle, waiting with the placid entitlement of men who have never had to lift a finger in their own home. But this time, I didn’t obey. “I’ve already eaten,” I said, turning and walking toward the guest room. “If you’re hungry, you can make it yourselves.” Behind me, I heard my father-in-law begin to shout and my mother-in-law launch into a long, whining complaint. I had just texted my parents to let them know I was on my way when the guest room door swung open. It was Ethan. He saw me lying on the bed and his face darkened with rage. “Mom burned her hand trying to cook. And you can just lie here without a shred of guilt?” I didn’t even look at him. “Oh,” I said softly. “Tell her to be more careful next time.” After all, she had a lifetime of cooking ahead of her. He was speechless with anger. It took him a long moment to find his voice again. “Sophie, it was just a few crabs. Are you ever going to let this go? The house is falling apart. Can you please stop this nonsense?” He tried a different tactic, his voice softening slightly. “Look, I’ll buy you more crabs tomorrow, okay? Just get up and make dinner, then make some soup for Aubrey. She said yours is her favorite.” I rolled over, turning my back to him. He let out a cold snort. “Fine, Sophie. Don’t think for a second the world can’t turn without you.” He slammed the door on his way out. For the rest of the evening, I could hear the chaotic sounds of their attempts to run the household. For the first time in years, I fell asleep early. When I came out the next morning, only Aubrey was home. The pretense was gone. She stood up from the sofa without a hint of a limp and walked right up to me, her smile dripping with venom. “Ethan stayed up with me all night,” she purred. “Then he got up at the crack of dawn to drive downtown and get me croissants from that little French bakery I love. Leo went with him.” She gestured vaguely. “And his parents went out to the butcher to get bones. They’re going to make me bone broth themselves.” I ignored her and walked past, heading into the master bedroom to grab my suitcase. She followed me in, relentless. “You’re just a pathetic little joke, Sophie. No one loves you. Your husband, your son… they both love me.” Just as the words left her mouth, we heard the sound of a key in the front door lock. In an instant, Aubrey’s entire demeanor changed. Her triumphant smirk vanished. She raised her hand and slapped herself hard across the face, twice, then crumpled to the floor with a theatrical sob. “Sophie, I’m sorry!” she cried, her voice choked with fake tears. “I was wrong! I shouldn’t still have feelings for Ethan! Please, don’t hit me!” She began to crawl away from me, weeping. “I’ll leave, I promise! I’ll never get in your way again!” Before I could even process what was happening, a paper bag flew through the air and hit me square in the face. Ethan’s roar of fury followed a split second later. “SOPHIE! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” Something sharp on the bag’s contents had cut my forehead; I felt a trickle of blood run down my temple. On the floor where the bag had fallen lay a scattered handful of large, uncooked blue crabs. Ethan was already on the floor, cradling Aubrey in his arms, looking at me with the pure, unadulterated hatred one reserves for an enemy. “I can’t believe you’ve become this vicious,” he spat. “And to think I went out of my way to buy you those damn crabs this morning. You don’t deserve a single thing.” Leo ran over and shoved me, hard. “Bad mommy! You hurt Auntie Aubrey! I’m gonna hit you!” My hip slammed against the door handle, sending a sharp, radiating pain through my side. I winced, but neither of them noticed or cared. Aubrey let out a small cry that her leg hurt, and in an instant, Ethan was sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her out the door. Leo trailed after them, his small face a mask of worry. I looked down at the crabs scattered on the floor, then picked up my suitcase. Without looking back, I walked out of the house and took a taxi to the airport.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386011”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The check for my dad’s settlement had just cleared when the first line of text scrolled across my vision, a ghostly caption overlaid on the real world. 【Wow, the side character is such a simp. She’s even willing to use her dead dad’s money to get the guy.】 【What’s the point? It all goes to the main character in the end anyway. Serves her right for not knowing her place.】 A split second later, Ethan came barreling around the corner, out of breath. “Did you get it? The money? Give it to me, I have to pay my tuition deposit before the deadline.” I instinctively moved the hand holding the envelope behind my back and shook my head. 1 【What is she waiting for? Just give him the money!】 【How is he supposed to go to college without it?】 【This is so frustrating. I wish I could reach into the story and slap some sense into her.】 I stared at the captions as they refreshed, a cold understanding dawning on me. I wasn’t just me. I was a character in a book. A disposable one. The designated stepping-stone. My entire purpose was to give up my own chance at college, using my father’s life insurance payout to fund the male lead’s education. I was supposed to stay behind in our dead-end town, taking care of Ethan’s parents and helping with their failing farm. He’d promise me over and over that he’d marry me after graduation. But the story didn’t end there. The moment he had his degree, he’d cut me loose. He wouldn’t just leave; he would accuse me of trying to buy his love, of trapping him with money. Then he’d make a grand public spectacle of marrying his one true love, the story’s real heroine, turning me into the town joke. In the end, I was left with nothing. Every sacrifice I made was just to pave the way for her. Worse than being broke and alone, I was twisted into the “crazy, bitter ex-girlfriend,” the villain everyone loved to hate. And the grand finale? The happy couple gets their fairy-tale ending. Meanwhile, a tumor bloomed in my breast, fed by bitterness and stress. With no money for treatment, I was written out of the story with a quiet, lonely death. The hero and heroine would weep with joy. “That evil woman finally got what she deserved.” I read it all in a flash. And I thought: The hell with that. Like I would ever be that pathetic. Like I would burn my own life down just to light the way for those two assholes. Ethan noticed my silence. His impatience flared. “Leah, what are you spacing out for?” he snapped. “I’ve told you a million times, senior year is everything. Every second counts. Do you have any idea what you’ll do to my future if you make me miss this deadline?” He looked at me, his expression radiating a sense of absolute entitlement. “I’m not like you. It doesn’t matter if you get into college or not with your grades. I’m this town’s only real hope. Can’t you see the bigger picture for once?” It was the way he said it, so matter-of-fact. As if my life was a foregone conclusion, a minor detail in his grand story. As if I were a traitor to our entire community for not handing over my father’s legacy without a second thought. I had to physically restrain myself from laughing in his face. Instead, I kept my expression blank. “Oh, you mean my dad’s settlement money?” I said, my voice flat. “They said there’s a delay. It hasn’t come through yet.” Please. Wouldn’t that money be better spent on my own college education? Why would I give it to this ungrateful parasite? 2 As if on cue, a soft voice drifted from behind us. “Ethan…” Hannah appeared, as if summoned. Like every girl-next-door fantasy, she had a wholesome beauty and eyes that swam with a kind of curated vulnerability. The kind of look that made every man instantly want to be her protector. Right now, those big, innocent eyes were fixed on us, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “If she doesn’t want to, you shouldn’t force her,” she murmured, her voice full of gentle reason. Ethan whipped his head back to me, his face a mask of indignation. “Is what she’s saying true? Are you lying to me, Leah?” I gave him a look that said, Believe whatever you want. I waved a dismissive hand. “Think what you want.” He seemed genuinely shocked that I would dare use that tone with him. He opened his mouth, a hot retort on his lips, then seemed to swallow it down. He turned his attention back to soothing Hannah. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She wouldn’t dare. I’m going to college, one way or another. And when I do, you and I…” He remembered I was standing right there and cut himself off. Hannah, ever the gracious one, put on a show of magnanimity. “Leah is so lucky,” she sighed. “If I had a boyfriend as brilliant as you, Ethan, I’d be smiling in my sleep.” She had no idea that the captions had already shown me everything. Their secret meetings, the promises they’d made to each other. I’d always wondered why Ethan, who was so obviously infatuated with Hannah, had suddenly started pursuing me. Now it all made sense. My dad had been a supervisor at the plant, a man with connections that could have helped Ethan’s career. That was the only reason. Now that Dad was gone, killed in a workplace accident, the show was over. All Ethan needed was the settlement money from the plant to squeeze the last bit of value out of my family’s tragedy. A wave of disgust washed over me, so strong it was nauseating. I looked at Hannah and said coolly, “You like him? He’s all yours.” 3 They both just stood there, stunned into silence. I didn’t have the patience to stick around for their reaction. I turned and walked away from the two of them as fast as I could. As I got closer to my street, I saw Ethan’s mom holding court with a group of neighborhood gossips on her front lawn. “Our Ethan doesn’t even have to pay for his own schooling,” she was bragging, her voice loud enough for the whole block to hear. “That silly little Leah is just falling all over herself to please him…” “Well, she’s not entirely stupid,” another woman chimed in. “Once Ethan becomes a college man, she’ll get to follow him to the city and live the good life.” “Ha! In her dreams!” Ethan’s mom spat on the ground. “A country girl with a dead father, thinking she can marry up? My Ethan is going to marry a city girl. He’s just playing along with Leah for now. Who else is going to pay for his tuition?” Someone else asked, “I thought Leah’s grades were pretty good, too. What if she gets into a good college? Then they’d both be college students.” Ethan’s mom looked at her with pure contempt. “Her? Not a chance. And even if some miracle happened and she did get in, she couldn’t go. Who would take care of our farm when Ethan’s away studying? Leah’s strong. We’ll just have her stay here and work the fields for us.” My blood ran cold. A chill seeped into my bones. Just to have an extra farmhand, they were willing to sabotage my entire life. To turn me from a promising student into a woman breaking her back in the dirt, only to be thrown away like trash when I was no longer useful. And the most pathetic part? According to the script, I was supposed to let them clip my wings and still be grateful for it. I almost choked on my own rage. Then, I squared my shoulders and walked directly toward the group. Ethan’s mom was still talking, her expression animated. When she turned and saw me, her eyes flickered with guilt. The conversation died instantly. I acted like I hadn’t heard a thing, putting on my friendliest smile. “Afternoon, Mrs. Reed,” I said brightly. “I just wanted to let you know, I saw Mr. Reed’s truck parked down the street, turning into Mrs. Henderson’s driveway again. You might want to go check on that.” The effect was immediate. A wave of awkward, delicious tension rippled through the group. Ethan’s mom’s face went from pale to beet red, her eyes practically shooting flames. Everyone in town knew about her husband and Mrs. Henderson. It was the worst-kept secret in Harmony Creek. By saying it out loud, in front of everyone, I had taken her precious reputation and ground it into the dirt. A second later, she stormed off without another word. 4 First day of senior year. Mr. Davison, the guidance counselor, pulled me aside. “Leah, Ethan Reed is the only one in the senior class who hasn’t paid his student fees. When are you planning on taking care of that for him?” I looked up from the mountain of practice SATs on my desk. “Ethan hasn’t paid his fees? What does that have to do with me?” My response sent a ripple of confused murmurs through the nearby students. For the past two years, I’d paid for everything. His fees, his books, his class trips. It had become so routine that Mr. Davison didn’t even bother asking Ethan anymore; he just came straight to me. It wasn’t just the money. When his lunch wasn’t enough, I’d give him mine, even though his stomach was a bottomless pit he could never seem to fill. He’d take my food and, not long after, complain he was still hungry. I used to think he just had a big appetite. Then I found out he was giving everything I gave him to Hannah. Meanwhile, I was the one sitting in class, dizzy with hunger, my stomach cramping so badly I couldn’t focus. Thinking about it now, the sheer idiocy of my devotion made me furious. Mr. Davison didn’t give up. Ethan was his star pupil, the one kid with a real shot at the Ivy League. His success was tied to the school’s reputation, and by extension, Mr. Davison’s. He couldn’t afford any hiccups. “You’re his girlfriend, aren’t you? What’s the big deal about helping him out with a small fee?” A small, humorless smile touched my lips. “Oh, it’s no big deal for me. I’m just worried about Ethan. People are already starting to call him a freeloader. You know how proud he is. We wouldn’t want to push him over the edge, would we?” I was completely making it up, of course, but it sounded plausible. Finally, I stood up and raised my voice just enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear. “For the sake of Ethan’s reputation, I will no longer be paying for any of his expenses. From now on, please direct all billing matters to Ethan Reed himself.” I grabbed my practice tests and headed for the library. I didn’t want to stick around for the fallout. But I didn’t get far. Ethan was waiting for me right outside the door, his eyes blazing with anger. 5 “Leah, what the hell was that? Are you backing out on me?” Seeing his face, twisted with indignation, sent a strange jolt of satisfaction through me. “Backing out on you?” I shot back. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. Everyone in town knows about you and Hannah. You’re just like your father—can’t seem to keep it in your pants.” “You—” Ethan’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. He sputtered, “There’s nothing going on with me and Hannah. You shouldn’t listen to stupid gossip.” Without even waiting to see if I believed him, he stuck his hand out. “Now give me the money. I have to pay those fees. Today is the deadline, and I’m not going to miss class because of this.” Seriously? What was wrong with this guy? Did he think I was his mother? I wouldn’t even dare ask my own mom for money with that kind of attitude. Even the captions were disgusted. 【Seriously? I never realized how shameless the male lead is.】 【This is giving me flashbacks to my deadbeat ex. Loved spending my money.】 【Ugh, if I were her, I’d slap him. Twice.】 I rolled my eyes so hard I felt a strain. “No money,” I said, turning to leave. He grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong. “I already asked around. Your dad’s settlement came through last week. Stop lying to me.” 6 “How can you be such a selfish person?” Ethan’s voice was rising, getting louder with every word. A small crowd was gathering, kids peering out of classroom windows to watch the drama unfold. Their stares were a mixture of curiosity and judgment, most of it aimed at me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I opened my mouth to fire back. But just then, Hannah materialized behind me again. The moment she saw me, her eyes welled up with tears. Her already petite frame seemed to shrink, making her look impossibly fragile. She grabbed my sleeve, her voice a desperate plea. “Leah, please… is this because of me? Are you refusing to help Ethan because of me?” she whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You can’t listen to those rumors. Ethan is a top student. He’s our town’s only hope. You have to help him!” Every word was delivered with the dramatic weight of a Shakespearean tragedy. Anyone watching would think I was a monster bullying this poor, sweet girl. Ethan’s face hardened with protective anger. “Leah, when are you going to stop this?” he yelled, his voice echoing in the hallway. “Look at yourself! You’re acting like some crazy, irrational shrew! I’m about to apply to college. Can’t you for one second think about the pressure I’m under?” That was the cue for the audience to chime in. “Come on, Leah. Everyone knows you two are a couple. What’s the big deal?” “Yeah, Ethan’s family doesn’t have much. The guy works his butt off and gets straight A’s. If he were my boyfriend, I’d sell my car to help him.” “I see what this is. She’s just a user. No loyalty at all.” One by one, they tore me down, piling on accusations that had no basis in reality. In their eyes, Ethan was the golden boy destined for greatness, and I was just the lucky girl who got to cling to his coattails. They had no idea that he wouldn’t be where he was without me. I did his laundry and cleaned his classrooms so he would have more time to study. I stayed up all night copying study guides he couldn’t afford so he’d have them first thing in the morning. I was more invested in his grades than my own. And my grades hadn’t been bad. My dream of going to college was just as real, just as fierce as his. But I had always put his dream first. Not anymore. 7 “Ethan,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise. It was quiet, but it carried. “You have a mother and a father. You have two hands and two feet. Why do you need me to pay your way through school?” His face went white. Hannah jumped in. “His family is poor! You have all that money now, why can’t you help him? Do you have any idea what it’s like to go hungry sometimes…” Before she could finish her sob story, I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I see. So because I have money, I’m obligated to give it away? Poverty makes you morally superior, is that it?” Hannah stammered, her face flushing bright red. I ignored her completely, my eyes locked on Ethan. “And speaking of money,” I said, my voice dripping with acid, “you knew how tight things were, Hannah, but you still let him use my money to buy you that new J.Crew blouse, didn’t you?” “You—” Hannah looked like I’d struck her. She clearly hadn’t known I knew about that, much less that I’d announce it publicly. The truth was, I’d only just learned it from a pop-up caption myself. She nervously glanced around as the other students’ eyes immediately darted to the crisp, new shirt she was wearing. I pressed on. “You talk about him going hungry. Well, he gave you the lunch I packed for him every single day. Of course he was hungry.” I turned my attention back to the crowd. “I dated him for a year. I did his laundry, cooked his meals, helped on his family’s farm, and paid his school fees. In all that time, he never bought me so much as a piece of candy. Everything he got from me, he turned around and gave to her. Tell me, was I just a pawn in some twisted game you two were playing?” The hallway erupted. “Wait, I thought Ethan was with Leah. Who is this other girl?” “He used his girlfriend’s money to buy clothes for another chick? That’s pathetic.” “Who cares how smart he is? The guy’s a leech.” “Worse, he’s a leech who thinks he’s entitled to it.” The sharp, judgmental stares were now directed at Ethan and Hannah. No matter how thick-skinned they were, they couldn’t withstand that kind of scrutiny. Hannah looked down, twisting the hem of her skirt, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. Ethan just glared at me, his eyes filled with pure venom. I glanced at the captions scrolling in my periphery. 【Is it just me or does this feel like catching a cheating couple in the act?】 【Okay, I’m not the only one who thinks the ‘hero’ is a dirtbag and the ‘heroine’ is a fake, right?】 【Why is it so satisfying to see them get called out? I’m living for this.】 【This side character is kind of a badass. I’m officially a fan.】 A small smile played on my lips. My confidence surged. I was about to go in for the kill when a furious voice cut me off. “That’s enough!” Ethan roared. “I see what this is. You’re just jealous of Hannah. She’s kinder than you, she’s more thoughtful than you, she’s more of a human being than you’ll ever be. And you’re so desperate to tear her down you’ll make up any lie you can think of.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Hannah’s hand and pulled her away, disappearing down the hall. 8 Somehow, Ethan managed to scrape together the money and pay his fees. After that, he made it his mission to make my life hell. He turned our friends against me, gave me the silent treatment, and acted like I was invisible. I couldn’t have cared less. My entire focus was on my schoolwork. I took a small amount of my dad’s settlement and set it aside for a “food fund.” Before, I was constantly starving myself for Ethan’s sake. Now, I ate protein with every meal. I was no longer dizzy in class, and my concentration improved dramatically. If I got hungry studying late at night, I’d make myself a snack. I had more energy than ever before. The only downside was the look on Ethan’s face whenever he saw me eating a chicken leg I’d originally bought for him, while his own lunch consisted of stale bread and a jar of pickles. If looks could kill, I’d be dead. One afternoon, I was struggling with a particularly brutal geometry proof. Ethan suddenly appeared at my desk. “You’re not built for math, Leah,” he sneered. “You can work at it all you want, but you’ll never be good at it. You should just accept it.” I felt a flash of white-hot anger. But then, a cold, clear thought cut through it. Only the weak lash out. The strong face reality. The anger subsided. He wasn’t wrong. Math was my Achilles’ heel. According to the captions, my math scores were what would ultimately drag my grades down. I was smart enough for Yale, but I would end up at a second-rate state school because of this one subject. The thought was unbearable. Seeing the frustration on my face, Ethan’s expression shifted to one of smug superiority. “Look,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension. “If you apologize to Hannah—publicly—and admit that everything you said about her was a lie, I might consider tutoring you.” He paused for effect. “You know how good I am. A few pointers from me would be worth more than a hundred hours of you banging your head against the wall.” He was right. His talent for math was infuriatingly natural. Ten minutes of his help would probably be more effective than ten hours of me studying on my own. Especially now, with senior year flying by, I didn’t have time to waste. But I still shut him down. “The only thing I want from you, Ethan, is for you to stay as far away from me as possible.” I remembered all the times I had begged him to help me with math before. He always had an excuse. “You just don’t have the aptitude for it…” “When would I possibly have the time?” “Instead of wasting energy on this, why don’t you do my laundry for me…” And now, he was offering to teach me, but only as a tool to defend Hannah’s honor. The irony was suffocating. I had my pride. I had my self-respect. I would rather never go to college than beg for scraps of affection from him.

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The seventh time Blake asked me to marry him, he told me to wear the dress. The white one. And the ring. I waited from sunrise to sunset at City Hall, a bride with no groom, only to find my humiliation broadcast across the city by a swarm of drones. I saw him then, his arm slung around Chloe, his childhood friend. He gestured back at me, a smirk playing on his lips as he addressed their friends. “See? Told you she’d do whatever I say. Pay up. A hundred bucks each.” Then his eyes, full of a familiar, malicious glint, found mine. “Ava, it’s just a joke. You’re not mad, are you?” he called out, his voice dripping with false concern. “Chloe needed an idea for a story, a little social experiment. We just wanted to see what would happen.” He let out a low chuckle. “I didn’t realize you were this desperate to get married. But then again, with your family bankrupt, who else is going to take you?” The group erupted in laughter and began to drift away. I managed a small, tight smile and raised my phone, dialing the number of his sworn enemy. “City Hall closes in an hour. Feel like getting married?” 1 The breath on the other end of the line hitched. A moment later, a low, masculine voice, laced with amusement, rumbled through the speaker. “You sure you have the right number? Little Ava, this is Ethan Grant. Not your precious Blake.” I glanced over at Blake, who was now laughing, utterly delighted with himself as Chloe clung to his arm. The pain in my chest was so sharp it had become a dull, constant ache. Ever since Chloe had moved back from her overseas assignment three years ago, the Blake I knew—the one whose world once revolved around me—had vanished, replaced by this cruel stranger. He used her career as an excuse, a shield for his increasingly twisted games. This was the seventh time. It would be the last. This time, I was the one leaving. “I know who you are. Are you in, or not?” “Fine,” he said, a note of finality in his tone. “Stay put.” The moment I hung up, a drone zipped down, its camera lens hovering inches from my face. The sound of Blake and his friends’ jeering laughter washed over me like a tidal wave. “Oh, look, she’s still keeping up the act!” “Get the camera right on her. Let’s see how good her performance is.” “Wow, she’s a natural.” Blake sauntered over, feigning annoyance as he stepped between me and the camera. “Alright guys, that’s enough.” He turned to me, his voice a stage whisper. “I mean, she’s wearing the dress and everything. It’d be a shame not to let her finish the scene, right?” The group roared. I stared at him, my body trembling with a rage so profound it left me speechless. He had insisted I wear this dress, and now he was using it as the punchline to his joke. His gaze dropped to my hand, and he snorted. “No way, Ava. You actually bought a ring? God, you’re desperate.” He grinned. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. We can make you famous today. We’ll call you the ‘Desperate Bride.’ You should thank Chloe. Without her story, you’d never get this kind of exposure.” Chloe linked her arm through mine, her expression a mask of gentle reprimand. “Oh, Blake, stop it. Don’t tease her. There’s nothing wrong with Ava wanting to marry the man she loves.” She gave my arm a squeeze. “Ava, don’t mind them. They’re just boys being boys.” “This was all for my story, you see,” she continued, her voice soft and earnest. “Just a social experiment. I told him it might be hard on you, but he insisted my work was more important. There was nothing I could do.” With a few placid words, she absolved herself, framing my public humiliation as a necessary sacrifice for her career. Blake hadn’t just played me for a fool at City Hall; he’d turned it into a city-wide spectacle, complete with a live drone feed. The old Blake—the boy who once tore through the city in the dead of winter to find me a specific kind of candy from our childhood that they didn’t make anymore—was gone. He’d been gone for three years. I pulled my arm from Chloe’s grasp. “I just never said I was here to marry him.” “Oh, Ava, stop trying to save face,” Blake sneered. “Your father’s in jail. You’re not a princess anymore.” 2 “You know what? I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” Blake continued, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “Gus can marry you. Yeah. That way, we can all still hang out sometimes. Keep you from going crazy when you can’t see me.” He shoved a short, heavyset guy with a face full of acne forward. “He’s a man, isn’t he? You should be grateful anyone wants you. Stop pretending you have options.” He watched me then, his eyes alight with a sick curiosity, waiting for my reaction. So, he knew. He knew how I felt, and he was using it to wound me. I recognized the man—Gus. One of Blake’s sycophants. He’d just gotten out of jail a few days ago, served a few years for what he did to that girl from state college. And Blake, in some twisted attempt to prove his loyalty to Chloe, was trying to pawn me off on him. My fists clenched at my sides. “No, thank you. My fiancé is on his way.” For a second, they were all stunned into silence. Then, a wave of derisive laughter broke over the plaza. Gus laughed so hard that tears streamed down his pimpled cheeks, looking at me like I was a lunatic. Blake waved the drones closer, directing them to focus tightly on my face. “Everyone get a good look! Remember this face. This is our city’s one and only Desperate Bride.” He shook his head, feigning pity. “Ava, are you delusional? Has wanting to get married finally broken your brain?” I saw Gus holding up his phone, the camera pointed at me. A live chat was scrolling rapidly on his screen, a torrent of digital venom. [OMG, this is so cringe. Showing up in a dress and ring to force a guy’s hand?] [Anyone in the chat wanna claim her? If you like ‘em easy, here’s your chance.] [This kind of girl is too much drama. Pass. Maybe for 100 bucks a night to help her out since her family’s broke lol. Support small business!] Gus grinned, flashing a set of yellowed teeth as he read the comments aloud. The humiliation was so public that even my father saw the news from the county jail. He called, his voice a furious rasp through the phone. “Our family would rather starve to death than pull a stunt like this! What is wrong with you, going to City Hall and making a spectacle of yourself? Have you lost your mind?” he yelled. “Chloe has a real, respectable career! What do you have? How dare you even think you can compete with her!” I’ll admit it. At first, my reason for wanting to marry Blake was tied to my family’s situation. That’s why I had let him humiliate me, time and time again. Even when I knew his marriage proposals were just ploys to appease Chloe and give her material for her sensationalist stories, I kept showing up. In the beginning, I would get angry. “It’s just a joke, Ava,” he’d say, his eyes cold. “Don’t be so sensitive.” Eventually, I just went numb. I always knew his friends looked down on me, saw me as a desperate clinger. In the past, Blake would have defended me, ready to fight anyone who said a bad word. Now, he was the one leading the charge, orchestrating my mockery for Chloe’s amusement. And this time, as if the private cruelty wasn’t enough, he’d invited the whole city to watch. The irony was, I’d known Blake longer than he’d known Chloe. The three of us grew up together, and for years, Blake couldn’t stand her. He used to say she was a phony, too calculating. But somewhere along the line, that changed. He started choosing her, over and over again, leaving me behind. Last year, for his birthday, I took time off work and flew in from out of state to surprise him. I spent three days and three nights in the freezing cold, setting up a huge outdoor party. My hands were swollen and raw by the end of it. But then, in the middle of the party, Blake got down on one knee in front of Chloe and declared his undying love for her. I stood in the snow, the tears freezing on my cheeks. Everyone cheered for them, a happy, roaring crowd. I was just outside the circle of their warmth, a lonely joke on the edge of their joy. 3 It felt just like that now. Except this time, I was certain I wouldn’t be standing alone. I took a deep breath, faced the cameras, and smiled. “Thank you all for coming to my wedding. My fiancé will be here shortly. Please be patient.” My words were a stone tossed into a still pond, sending ripples of shock and mockery through the crowd. “I’m dying! Is this woman for real? She’s completely delusional.” “Who’s gonna marry you? Someone from the livestream? Alright boys, hit ‘1’ in the chat if you want to marry her.” The chat feed flooded with a stream of ‘hell no’ and ‘run away.’ Blake crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. “Ava, this act has gone on long enough. It’s going to be pretty embarrassing when no one shows up.” “Why don’t you tell us who this fiancé of yours is?” he taunted. “Did you hire an actor? How much does he charge an hour that he thinks he can keep us all waiting?” He was pretending to be annoyed at my non-existent fiancé, but his real target was me. The group behind him howled with laughter. I let my own smile widen. “Ethan Grant. Head of Grant Corporation.” Blake’s expression flickered, then he threw his head back and laughed, louder than before. “How many drinks have you had today? Ava, even if I gift-wrapped you and handed you to him, he wouldn’t look twice. Not after everything between us.” Chloe, ever the gentle mediator, wore a look of helpless concern. “Ava, please stop. Is it really that hard to just apologize to Blake? We were just running a test for my article. Now… now you’re just wasting everyone’s time.” Her sentiment was echoed by the others. “Yeah, is it so hard to admit that nobody wants you?” “Just get on your knees and beg Blake to call it off. Either that or marry Gus. I think it’s a great match, he knows how to handle women…” The men snickered, nudging each other. I squeezed my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “I told you. My fiancé will be here.” Blake waved a hand dismissively and had someone bring a chair for Chloe. “Alright then,” he said, settling in for the show. “Don’t blame me for what happens next.” He lit a cigarette and blew a plume of smoke directly in my face. Chloe coughed delicately, and Blake immediately panicked, crushing the cigarette under his heel. “Chloe, I’m so sorry, I forgot you hate the smell. I’ll quit, I swear. I’ll quit right now.” He frantically sent someone for wet wipes and breath spray, cleaning himself up as if he’d committed a cardinal sin. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I’m allergic to cigarette smoke. A severe, throat-closing allergy. The kind that has landed me in the emergency room, coughing up blood. Blake knew this. He never cared. When I first asked him not to smoke around me, he had exploded. “It’s my only vice, are you going to control that too? You think you’re my girlfriend or my warden?” he had snarled. “If you don’t like it, you can leave.” After that, I never mentioned it again. He seemed to find my silent suffering amusing, often blowing smoke rings in my face on purpose. Once, he and his friends locked me in a room, sealed the windows, and chain-smoked around me, calling it a “Smoke-Tasting Party.” They made me rank the brands from best to worst. When I pointed out the one that made my lungs burn the most, he made everyone smoke that kind for the rest of the night. My eyes were red and swollen, and later that evening, my throat and tongue went numb from the allergic reaction. I ended up in the ER. Twenty minutes had passed since my call with Ethan. He was always punctual, pathologically so. If he said he’d be there, he would. I wasn’t worried. They, however, were convinced I was bluffing. “She’s really committed to the bit, isn’t she? Does she actually think Ethan Grant is coming?” “‘My fiancé,’” one of them mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “God, how embarrassing.” “Hey Ava, there’s a 50-year-old bachelor back in my hometown who needs a wife. You should marry him. You’re not picky, right? As long as it’s a man.” “Oh, she’s picky!” another chimed in. “She brought the dress and the ring for Blake, didn’t she?” 4 I ignored their cackling, my brow furrowing in genuine confusion. “My dress and ring were for my fiancé. Is Blake my fiancé?” “Hahaha, you wish! But he’s got to want you first!” “Hey Blake, she’s asking you a question! You gonna marry her or what?” Blake held up his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, no thanks! Pass! Not just anyone can walk through the doors of my house, you know!” A fresh wave of laughter. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. In that moment, any lingering trace of affection I might have had for him evaporated completely. The crowd of onlookers was getting restless. “I thought her fiancé was coming! Is she just messing with us? I have to pick up my grandson from school!” “Yeah, what a waste of time. Does she think we have nothing better to do?” A staff member from City Hall approached me. “Miss, are you getting a license or not? If not, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re holding up the line.” “Just five more minutes, please. He’s almost here.” Chloe seemed to finally take pity on me, shooting Blake a disapproving glare. He immediately deflated. She sighed and walked over to me, her voice soft with sympathy. “Ava, just stop. There’s no point in dragging this out. You’re only going to humiliate yourself further.” Her eyes were wide and earnest. “I know you’ve always wanted to marry Blake, but he doesn’t feel that way about you. Why are you trying to force him?” She placed a gentle hand on my arm. “A woman needs to have self-respect, Ava. You need your own ambition, your own career. What man could possibly handle this kind of desperation?” Every word was carefully crafted to sound like advice from a concerned friend, but the subtext was clear: I was a pathetic leech, incapable of standing on my own two feet. The crowd and the online viewers exploded. The narrative shifted instantly. I was now the other woman, the homewrecker, using manipulative tactics to trap a man who clearly loved someone else. [She’s a classic psycho ex. Can’t stand to see him happy with someone else.] [For the love of God, will some man just take this trainwreck off the market? So embarrassing! Didn’t her dad go to jail? Why didn’t they take her too?] [Chloe is a true class act. A real role model. It’s trash like this that makes things harder for all women!] Suddenly, Chloe was the icon of the modern, independent woman. I was the clinging vine, a disgrace to my gender. The commotion had grown so large that local news crews had arrived. A reporter shoved a microphone in my face. “Do you feel that your actions today are setting a bad example for women?” I knew that saying anything would only make it worse. All I had to do was wait for Ethan, get the license, and end this nightmare. But they weren’t going to let me go that easily. They started bringing up my family’s bankruptcy, spinning new lies about my father, demanding a full investigation into his taxes, insisting he should never be released. I couldn’t take it anymore. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, a raw egg sailed through the air and splattered across the bodice of my white dress. Then a second, and a third. My gown was streaked with foul-smelling, yellow ooze. The next thing I knew, an old man was charging at me with a bucket of sludgy water. “You made my grandson late for his own wedding registration!” he screamed, and heaved the contents of the bucket toward my head. Blake’s only reaction was to pull Chloe back, shielding her from the spectacle. I braced for the impact, but it never came. A warm, solid body pressed against mine, shielding me, absorbing the filthy deluge. I looked up into the sharp, stoic face of Ethan Grant. “I dare anyone to touch her,” he said, his voice a low growl that cut through the chaos. “Ethan.” “It’s okay,” he murmured, his arms a fortress around me. “I’m here now.”

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Seven years after my divorce from Ethan Blackwood, we met again in the drop-off line for a middle school summer camp. He was there for his stepson. I was the teacher in charge of the trip. I went through the checklist with him, my voice professional and clipped. He listened intently, playing the part of a competent parent. The only crack in the facade was a flicker of confusion in his eyes when I called him “Mr. Blackwood.” “Audrey,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “You’ve… changed.” I kept my head down, fussing with the faulty speaker on my megaphone. I didn’t answer. If he wanted to talk about change, we’d be here all day. At the very least, I no longer wasted my time waiting for him. 1 “Ms. Shaw! There you are. We were about to leave without you.” Nina, my class president, a bright girl with a perpetually high ponytail, jogged over. She was one of the campers. “Just confirming some parent details,” I said with a smile. “I’ll be right there.” Nina’s gaze followed mine and landed on Ethan. A look of pure admiration dawned on her face. “Oh! You must be Leo’s dad. I’ve seen your picture in Forbes.” Her voice was full of teenage reverence. “Everyone says you’re one of the most brilliant entrepreneurs in Crestwood. And that you’re an amazing father to him. We all think that’s so incredible.” Leo. That was the name of Ethan’s stepson. The child he had sworn to protect at all costs. Ethan managed a tight, polite smile, his eyes darting instinctively toward me. “He calls me Dad. It’s my job to be there for him.” The paperwork was done. I organized the forms and tucked them away. The old zipper on my tote bag, corroded from years of use, snagged on the fabric. I pulled out a small pair of scissors to free it and, in my haste, sliced my finger open. A perfect bead of blood welled up and dropped onto the asphalt. Ethan’s brow furrowed. He grabbed my wrist, a surprising urgency in his voice. “Don’t move. Let me see that.” I met his gaze for a second before carefully withdrawing my hand from his grip. “No, thank you. That’s not appropriate.” He paused, recalibrating. “Then wait here. I’ll get you a first-aid kit from my car.” I flicked the blood from my finger onto the ground and shook my head, my voice calm. “Really, it’s fine. I have to go.” As I turned, a single leaf spiraled down, landing at Ethan’s feet. The heavy door of the charter bus hissed shut between us. I settled into the front passenger seat and pulled a wet wipe from my bag, methodically cleaning the spot on my wrist where his fingers had been. The driver, a veteran with a love for gossip, chuckled as he pulled away from the curb. “That guy in the tailored suit must be some big shot. The woman who landed him is one lucky lady.” I smiled faintly but said nothing. This was the seventh year since my divorce from Ethan Blackwood. Seeing him again, I felt a placid stillness in my heart. I had accepted that our lives were two parallel lines, never destined to cross again. He could chase his great love story; I would guard my hard-won peace. It was almost possible to forget. To forget that I had once given him everything. And that he, in return, had cost me child after child, before personally shoving me into the abyss. 2 In the rearview mirror, the school drop-off point shrank until it was just a speck. It struck me then that this was the very place we had first met. Back then, he had nothing. He stood on that same patch of pavement, shivering and filthy, looking like a stray dog begging for scraps. The winter wind whipped around him as he kept his head bowed, his voice cracking as he pleaded with the staff coming and going. “My mom’s sick. Please, if you’ll just help her, I’ll do anything.” People walked past as if he were invisible. Only my father, a doctor at the city hospital, stopped. He not only got Ethan’s mother admitted, but he also pulled strings to get her into a charity care program and even paid for a significant portion of her treatment out of his own pocket. A few weeks later, when her condition had stabilized, my dad brought Ethan home. “Audrey,” he announced. “I’ve found you a tutor.” Ethan stood there, all six-foot-two of him, hands clasped nervously in front of him, the tips of his ears burning red. “I… I’m consistently in the top ten of my class. I’m decent at every subject.” That was an understatement. He wasn’t just “decent”; he was one of those effortless, incandescent geniuses teachers talk about for years. With the burden of his mother’s illness lifted, he shone even brighter. It was no surprise when he got a full scholarship to Crestwood University’s elite finance program. And I, as my father liked to joke, rode his coattails, scraping by with the bare minimum grades to get into the same university. But life is unpredictable. During Ethan’s freshman year, his mother’s illness returned. This time, she didn’t recover. My dad, a man with a deeply compassionate heart, felt a strange sense of responsibility. He told Ethan that the debt was paid, that he’d more than earned his keep by tutoring me. He was free now; he didn’t have to feel tied to us. But Ethan shook his head. “Dr. Shaw, this is a debt I can never repay. You saved my mother’s life. In return, I’ll take care of Audrey for the rest of mine.” I traced the faint white line of the scar on my finger. The sting was long gone, but a phantom ache remained. We were so young then. He said it, and I believed it. I clung to him like a burr, shamelessly, refusing to let go. We made plans. We’d make some money, buy a small house in Crestwood, and get married right after graduation. We would live a normal, happy life, just like everyone else. But as much as Ethan cared for me, his ambition burned hotter. The year we graduated, he threw himself into a project a thousand miles away in Riverton. All our promises evaporated like mist. He was consumed by his work, unreachable for weeks at a time. On the rare occasion I got him on the phone, before the thrill of hearing his voice could even settle, he dropped a bomb. “Audrey,” he said, his voice distant. “I think I’m going to stay here.” No apology. No “we should break up.” Not a single word of explanation. Around that time, my father retired. He couldn’t bear to see me crying day after day. “You can’t force love, honey,” he’d say gently. “Sometimes you just have to let go.” But four years of my life… I couldn’t accept it. That same day, I packed a suitcase and bought a ticket for the next train south. I messaged him the whole way, a long, rambling monologue. Ethan, I’m on my way to you. It doesn’t matter if you stay there. We don’t have to break up. I sent him the train number, the arrival time. I wanted him to be there. I needed him to meet me. He wasn’t. A torrential rain was falling in Riverton that day. I dragged my suitcase through the downpour, unable to find a single cab. I finally collapsed onto a bus stop bench and cried for three hours. A sharp, cramping pain seized my abdomen, and I felt a horrifying warmth spread down my legs. I looked down. It wasn’t my period. It was our baby. A baby I never even knew existed, arriving and leaving in secret. Panicked, I looked up, searching for anyone, for help. And then I saw him, walking toward me under a large black umbrella. He was wearing a dark gray trench coat and gold-rimmed glasses, looking so polished and successful it felt unreal. My hands were covered in blood. My legs were covered in blood. I scrambled toward him, grabbing the sleeve of his coat. “Our baby… the baby’s gone.” His expression was flat, but a flicker of anger burned in his eyes. “Who told you to come here?” The rain fell in sheets around us. Ethan’s face was a mask of cold fury. He asked me again, his voice like ice. “Audrey, who the hell told you to follow me?” 3 The bus arrived at the campsite. I pushed the memories away and stepped out into the fresh air. The camp had its own counselors waiting, which meant my main duties were over. I was free to explore the small resort town for a few days. My friend Maya picked me up. Her eyes immediately landed on a boy with a basketball tucked under his arm—Leo. “That’s her kid, isn’t it?” she said, her lip curling slightly. “He’s got her eyes.” I gave a small nod. Seeing my detached calm seemed to infuriate her. The anger simmered for a moment before she started railing against Ethan. “How could you have ever agreed to marry that heartless bastard after everything?” It wasn’t that complicated, really. After the miscarriage, I ended up in a Riverton hospital. I was young and terrified, grieving my first child, a thousand miles from home. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell my parents. Just when I was at my most helpless, my most desperate for an anchor, Ethan proposed. I clung to the idea like a drowning woman. He didn’t mean for it to happen, I told myself. It wasn’t his fault. So I married him. After the wedding, Ethan was always busy. An endless parade of networking dinners and business trips. Night after night, I waited for him, the food growing cold on the table. The daily corrosion of loneliness wore me down. When I unexpectedly became pregnant again, my emotions became a tangled, fragile mess. I was teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown. And that was when Ethan had his affair. Her name was Isabel. She wasn’t a business partner or a socialite. She was a widow with a child. Their meeting was sordid—in the private room of an upscale club. Ethan was instantly captivated. He told me later that when she pleaded with him for help, her eight-year-old son hiding behind her, he saw a reflection of his own desperate youth. He became obsessed, determined to be her savior. He brought the boy, Leo, to our home. “He’s the son of a friend,” he lied. “He’s been ill, and he just needs a quiet place to recover.” I believed him. I was even happy. Because of Leo, Ethan started coming home more often. Sometimes, Isabel was with him. “This is Leo’s mother,” he introduced her. “Her husband was abusive. It’s a miracle she got out with the boy. They’ve been through so much.” A knot of unease tightened in my stomach, but I pushed it down and poured my energy into caring for Leo. When he had a fever, I sat by his bed all night. When he had a craving for a specific snack, I dragged my swollen, exhausted body out to a 24-hour store to buy it for him. But my kindness was not returned. When I was seven months pregnant, Leo threw a tantrum because he didn’t like the dinner I’d made. He picked up a heavy wooden dining chair and heaved it, with all his strength, straight into my stomach. Blood gushed out, staining the pale tile floor a deep crimson. Frantic, I called Ethan. A woman’s voice answered. Isabel. “Your husband is with me,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet. “He’s in the shower.” I froze, a chill spreading through my veins that had nothing to do with the blood loss. My strength evaporated. Seeing the horror he’d caused, Leo bolted out the front door. It was a neighbor passing by who found me and called an ambulance. Unsurprisingly, the baby was gone. My son, beaten out of me by Isabel’s son. And what was Ethan doing while his own child’s life bled away? He was in bed with Isabel. I clawed my way back from the brink of death and woke up a madwoman. I smashed everything in my hospital room I could reach. I ripped out my IV, tore up my own charts, and knocked over a medicine cart. With dark circles under my eyes and my hair a tangled mess, I ran through the halls, screaming for Leo. I shrieked that he had to pay, that he had to give me my baby back. Doctors and nurses tried to restrain me. Other patients scurried out of my way. Then Ethan appeared. He seized my wrists, his grip merciless, and pinned me against the wall. His voice was cold and hard. “Audrey,” he hissed. “Have you made enough of a scene?”

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Isabelle said I stole her pearls, and my brother lost his mind. He didn’t just drag me to court; he hired the best lawyer in the city to stand by her side and prosecute me. I was sentenced to three years. I became a thief. Before the final sentencing, his own lawyer tried to reason with him. “Cole, just let this be a scare tactic. A real prison sentence will ruin your sister’s life.” My brother’s face was stone. “Stealing isn’t a small thing. She needs to learn a lesson.” He paused, his voice softening just a fraction, a chilling promise. “As for her future… I’ll be her safety net.” Three years later, I walked out of the correctional facility. He was there, waiting, his eyes red-rimmed as he reached for me. “You see now, don’t you? You know you were wrong. Come on, Thea. Let’s go home.” I took a step back, a small, quiet movement, letting his hand fall into the empty space between us. I had a new brother now, one I’d met on the inside. He told me he believed me. 1 When I flinched away, a flicker of shock crossed Cole’s face. But he didn’t retract his hand. Instead, it shot out again, faster this time, his grip firm and resolute around my wrist. “Thea, why are you pulling away? Did someone hurt you in there?” His voice was hoarse, like it was scraped over gravel. I tried to pull my hand back, once, twice, but his grip was iron. I gave up, my voice flat. “No.” He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for three years. He squeezed my hand tighter. “Good. That’s good. I read things online… horror stories. As long as you weren’t hurt…” Watching the relief wash over his face, the moisture gathering in his eyes, a bitter, mocking laugh echoed in the confines of my mind. Cole, the one who sent me there, with his own two hands, was you. What good is your concern now? He forced a smile, a placating, almost pleading expression, and tugged me toward a sleek black sedan parked at the curb. “You always loved a good party, remember? I’ve arranged a welcome-home dinner.” “Come on. We’re going home.” I glanced back at the gray, formidable walls of the prison. Inside, I’d met Leo. He was framed for financial fraud, locked away. He had one more month on his sentence. We had a plan. In one month, I’d be the one waiting at these gates. I would pick him up, and we would start a life together. But there were things I had to retrieve from that house. My father’s last effects. So, I let Cole lead me to the car. On the drive, his fingers brushed against the prickly stubble of my hair, my head shaved clean by the state. His touch was half a warning, half a reminder. “Thea, you can’t steal anymore. This was the consequence.” My own fingers curled into a tight fist in my lap. For three years, I had sent him messages through the prison guards, a desperate, broken refrain. I didn’t take Isabelle’s necklace. She framed me. He never believed me. So this time, I didn’t waste my breath. I just gave a docile nod, playing the part he’d written for me. “I know.” A satisfied smile spread across his lips. He brought me home. The moment he opened the front door, a POP echoed in the foyer, and a shower of colorful streamers rained down. Isabelle, whom I hadn’t seen in three years, stood there holding a party popper, her eyes crinkled in a joyful smile. “Sister! Welcome home!” She was acting so affectionate, her eyes practically overflowing with feigned nostalgia. A far cry from the venomous, hateful glare she’d given me when she’d accused me of theft. I ignored her, brushing past her shoulder as I walked inside. Her smile froze on her face. She looked to Cole for help, her voice laced with a wounded tremor. “Why won’t she talk to me? Is she still mad at me?” Cole stroked her hair, his voice a low, comforting murmur. “Thea just got out. She’s probably not used to things yet. It’s not your fault.” I was already in my old bedroom, pulling a dusty box from beneath the bed. My father’s old photographs and his wedding band were still there. A wave of profound relief washed over me. Cole appeared at the doorway, his voice soft. “Thea, come out and eat. You’re so thin, I can see your ribs.” I closed the box, slid it back into its hiding place, and followed him out. During dinner, Isabelle asked, with an air of calculated innocence, “So, sister, what was it like? I hear it’s a total mess in there. Is that true?” “It’s not a mess. You read books, you get the newspaper. After dinner, you go back to your bunk.” “Oh, that actually sounds okay. Not as bad as I imagined.” A sliver of disappointment flashed in her eyes. Cole peeled a shrimp and placed it on my plate, a light chuckle in his voice. “Now that she’s out, let’s not talk about that place. Just think of it as an experience. Let it go.” Isabelle’s expression darkened for a moment, and she fell silent. Then, as if remembering something, she hurried to her room and returned with a small, exquisitely wrapped box. She held it out to me. “Sister, this is a present for you. Congratulations on your release!” I didn’t take it. I just kept eating my food. She didn’t seem to mind. With a smile, she opened the box herself. A string of pearls lay nestled in the velvet, gleaming and opulent. I saw them, and my vision narrowed to a pinpoint. The blood in my veins turned to ice. It felt like I was plunging into a frozen lake. Isabelle pushed the box closer to me, her face twisting into a grotesque, triumphant sneer. Her voice was a horrifying whisper. “What’s wrong, sister? Don’t you love this necklace? You loved it so much you stole it.” “Now I’m giving it to you. Aren’t you happy?” That pearl necklace was a gift from Cole to Isabelle. It was the reason I’d spent three years in hell. After our father was killed in action, our mother took his survivor benefits and vanished, leaving me and Cole to fend for ourselves. He dropped out of high school, worked god-knows-how-many dead-end jobs before he finally scraped enough together to start his own company. The moment he had money, he adopted Isabelle, the orphaned daughter of a business acquaintance. He brought her into our home. I was against it at first, but Cole reasoned with me. “She’s just like us, Thea. She’s been through a tragedy. At least you have me. She has no one.” “Just be generous. It’s only one more plate at the table.” That’s what he said, but he treated her better than he’d ever treated me. It was like he was getting a do-over, a chance to raise a sister all over again, showering her with everything he couldn’t give me growing up. Jewelry, designer bags, you name it. If Isabelle wanted it, she got it. In two years, he spent millions on her. That was the money he had bled for. I remembered the nights he’d come home from business dinners, reeking of alcohol, stumbling to the bathroom to vomit until there was nothing left, only to have to go out and do it all again. I hated seeing him waste his hard-earned money like that. I was always telling him to cut back. Isabelle resented me for it. She hid the pearl necklace under my pillow, then ran to Cole with tears in her eyes, telling him I’d stolen it. He exploded. He made me stand outside during a thunderstorm, demanding I confess and repent. “How could a Harrison do something like this? Dad was a soldier, a hero. I’ve built my life on honesty and hard work.” His voice was like thunder itself. “Who are you learning from? Are you turning into her? The woman who took the money and ran?” “Have I deprived you of anything? Food? Clothes? Why would you need to steal?” I developed a fever, sobbing, pleading with him that I didn’t do it. He didn’t believe me. The next day, he hired the best lawyer and took me to court. He was my brother. My own flesh and blood. And in that courtroom, he stood as a witness for Isabelle, arguing passionately on her behalf. The gavel fell. Three years. I was a thief. Before I was taken away, relatives, friends, even his own lawyer, begged him not to go through with it. I was just a girl. Three years in prison would destroy me. But Cole was unmovable. He was willing to cut ties with all of them to see me locked up. “Thea won’t be destroyed. I work this hard for her. Even if she stumbles, I can support her for the rest of her life.” “But she stole. She has to learn a lesson.” He visited me every month for three years. He would sit on the other side of the glass and ask if I was ready to admit I was wrong. I never went out to see him. I just sent a message with the guards. “I didn’t steal anything.” And every time, the guard would return and tell me with a sigh, “Your brother doesn’t believe you.” Disappointment, repeated month after month, slowly curdled into despair. I felt abandoned by the entire world. I used to have a brother who loved me. Now, I had nothing. Seeing those pearls again, something inside me shattered. I swiped my arm across the table, sending the box flying. The string broke on impact. The pearls scattered across the floor, rolling into the dark corners of the room with a series of soft, mocking clicks. Isabelle froze, feigning shock. Cole’s face darkened instantly. “Isabelle was being kind, giving you a gift. She has already forgiven you. What is wrong with you?” I sat trembling in my chair, my face as white as a sheet. He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me to my feet. “Do you think just because you’re out you can throw a tantrum? Get on the floor, pick up every single one of those pearls, and apologize to Isabelle!” Apologize? I would rather die. I shoved him, hard, and scrambled for the door, running out into the night. The wind was frigid, a physical manifestation of the grief and injustice tearing at my heart. I never should have come back. If it weren’t for my father’s things, I would have never set foot in this house again. I was done being framed. I was done being hurt. Cole caught up to me quickly, his fingers digging into my wrist. His brow was furrowed in a deep, angry V. “Where do you think you’re going? Three years in prison and you still haven’t learned to control your temper?” I ripped my arm from his grasp, my voice raw, my eyes burning with unshed tears. “She gave me that necklace out of kindness? Or was it malice? Cole, are you really so blind you can’t see the difference?” “I am your sister. Your real sister! You already sent me away once. What more do you want from me?” “I’m doing this for your own good!” his voice dropped, turning cold and hard. “If you’re going to steal, you have to accept the punishment. How else will you ever break this habit? Am I supposed to just stand by and watch you ruin your life, let you go down the wrong path?” His words felt like a pickaxe striking my chest, carving out a hollow, empty crater where my heart used to be. When had I ever stolen anything? In my entire life? What possible reason would I have to steal one of Isabelle’s endless supply of trinkets? Why couldn’t he just think? Why couldn’t he believe me? Tears of pure despair finally broke free, a three-year flood of anguish washing over me. I gave up trying to explain. Cole’s gaze fell to my shorn head, and his voice softened, a tone of reluctant surrender. “Thea, everything I do, I do with you in mind. Yes, you spent three years in prison, but I’ve been preparing for your future. My company… it will all be yours one day. This was just… a small correction. It’s nothing in the grand scheme of things.” “Come home with me. Stop running away.” He took my hand again, leading me back toward the house. I followed him numbly, the fight gone out of me. I didn’t say another word. When we walked back through the door, Isabelle’s eyes widened in surprise. She clearly hadn’t expected Cole to bring me back after that display. I felt nothing but bone-deep exhaustion. I retreated to my room and didn’t come out. Late that night, my door creaked open. Isabelle. My eyes snapped open in the darkness, but I kept my breathing even, pretending to be asleep. She tiptoed over to my bed, fumbled with my pillow, and tucked something underneath it. I didn’t move. I didn’t say a word. She was so eager, resorting to the same old trick the very day I returned. This time, I wanted to see if my brother would finally choose to believe me. The next morning, just as I predicted, she was in the living room, crying to Cole that I had stolen from her again. “Sister, if you liked it, you just had to ask! I already tried to give you a necklace yesterday, but you threw it away.” Her voice was a perfect blend of hurt and accusation. “Or do you just enjoy the thrill of stealing?” Cole’s face was a thundercloud. He turned to me, his jaw tight. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” My heart didn’t just sink. It plummeted into a bottomless abyss. His words were a blade, severing the last, frayed thread of family that connected us. A bitter smile twisted my lips. “No,” I said. “I can’t.” SLAP! The sound cracked through the silent room. My head snapped to the side, my cheek stinging, burning. He had hit me. The rage and disappointment in his eyes were about to spill over. “How could I have a sister like you?” I was silent for a long moment, then I touched my throbbing cheek and let out a cold, empty laugh. “I don’t know. I’ve been wondering how I could have a brother like you.” “You—!” He pointed a trembling finger at me, too furious to speak. As he raised his hand for a second time, I dropped to my knees. I lowered my head and touched it once to the floor. A final, formal gesture of farewell. “Thank you for dropping out of school to take care of me,” I said, my voice devoid of all emotion. “From now on, I have no brother.” I stood up, pulled the box with my father’s things from under the bed, and turned to leave. His face was grim as he snatched the box from my hands. “These belonged to Dad. You have no right to take them!” Fine. Let him have them. I nodded, a gesture of final acceptance, and walked away. His voice, tight with restrained fury, followed me. “You’re an ex-con! What are you going to do without me? Starve to death?” I didn’t break my stride. “Don’t trouble yourself over it.”

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