My boyfriend let his new ‘little sister’ submit an application to transfer me hundreds of miles away. He called it a prank. I called it a reason to leave. So I packed my bags, boarded the plane, and started a new life without him in it. 1 The day before the transfer deadline, I saw my name on the student exchange list for the university’s satellite campus, hundreds of miles away. The applicant was Liam, my boyfriend. My fingers trembled as I dialed his number. His voice was casual, light. “Oh, that? Maya submitted it for me. She said it would be a funny prank to play on you.” He added, “You just have to go in and withdraw the application. No big deal.” Maya. The freshman who had insisted on becoming Liam’s “little sister.” I held the phone, silent, for a full minute before hanging up. I realized then that the four years of my life, the future I had so carefully planned, was nothing more than a joke to him. I didn’t argue. I packed my books, my laptop, my life. And when the time came, I boarded the plane. Halfway through the flight, my phone vibrated. It was Liam, his voice frantic. “I told you to withdraw the application! You didn’t withdraw it, did you?” “No,” I said. When I first saw my name on that exchange list, I froze. I was staring at the laptop screen, but the words blurred into nonsense. Liam and I had a plan. We’d both agreed to stay at the main campus this semester, to focus on prepping for the national academic competition. It was a goal we’d set together two years ago. But now, the system showed I was slated to go alone to the southern campus. If I hadn’t checked it on a whim, I wouldn’t have even had the chance to withdraw. I took a deep breath and called him. He was so nonchalant, like he was talking about the weather. “Oh, that. Maya thought it would be funny, you know? A little prank to see if you’d notice before you got shipped off.” He laughed. A small, airy sound. “The deadline hasn’t passed yet. Just remember to go cancel it.” Liam’s words were light, but each one landed like a shard of ice in my chest. “So,” I began, my voice trembling with a weakness I hated, “you think this is… just a small thing?” “Here we go,” he sighed, the impatience sharp in his tone. “Are you really going to make a big deal out of this? Just withdraw it and it’s over. Maya’s just… energetic. She was playing around.” I stared at the transfer notification on my screen. My throat felt thick, clogged with wet cotton. It took me a moment to find my voice. “What if I hadn’t noticed in time? Maya used my student ID and password. I could report her to the dean’s office for this.” Liam’s voice went cold instantly. “Ava, you are becoming seriously unreasonable.” “It was a joke. And you want to report her? When are you going to cut her some slack?” He was getting worked up now, his voice rising. “I’ve told you a million times, she’s a freshman, she just transferred here, she doesn’t know anyone. I’m like her campus big brother. What’s wrong with me looking out for her?” He finished with a sharp, final blow. “You know what? If you report her, you might as well report me, too.” The line went dead. The dial tone was a high, piercing whine that drilled into my ear, pinning me to my chair. I held the phone, my own shocked face reflected in the dark screen. The sounds of the library around me faded into a distorted silence. High school to college. I’d known Liam for five years, dated him for four. He was my boyfriend, the upperclassman who had guided me through the confusing first days on campus. I thought back to freshman year of high school, when I’d hidden in a library carrel, crying because I was homesick. He’d found me, sat with me, and talked me through it with a gentleness that soothed the ache in my chest. I remembered the homecoming dance our sophomore year, when a senior girl wouldn’t leave him alone. I’d walked right up and looped my arm through his, claiming him. The way he’d looked down at me then, his eyes crinkling with a smile. After the dance, walking me back to my dorm, he’d asked me to be his girlfriend under a sliver of a moon. Five years had woven him into the very fabric of my life. Everyone said we were the campus golden couple, destined to walk the same path. We’d already planned it all out: after graduation, we’d stay in this city, get an apartment, adopt a cat. We were going to carefully transplant our student love into the real world and watch it grow. Everything was supposed to run on its designated track, smooth and steady, toward a bright future. But now, I was staring at a cold, digital notification that felt like a punchline to a joke I wasn’t in on. The mouse cursor hovered over the “Withdraw” button, separated from it by an invisible chasm. All it would take was one click. One tiny movement, and the turbulence would smooth out, life would return to its familiar orbit. But his voice echoed in my ears, light and dismissive. She was just playing around. Are you really going to make a big deal out of this? It was the straw that broke something deep inside me. A profound, bone-deep weariness washed up from the soles of my feet, drowning everything else. Suddenly, none of it seemed to matter anymore. I didn’t even have the strength to lift my finger and click the button that was right there, waiting. A soft tap on the glass of the study room door broke my trance. I looked up, dazed, to see Maya standing there. When she caught my eye, she tapped again, motioning for me to come out. I pushed the door open, a cool draft from the hallway hitting my face. She took a half-step toward me, her voice syrupy sweet. “Ava, hey! Hope I’m not bothering you?” She tilted her head, her expression a careful performance of innocence. “I was just talking to Liam about me joining the student government, and he seemed a little down. Said he needed to get some air.” She paused, watching my reaction, a subtle curve to her lips. Her voice grew even more earnest. “So I wanted to ask you… is it okay if I go with him?” She said it so directly, her words chosen to sound considerate and respectful, as if she were truly asking for my permission. But the triumphant glint in her eyes, a light she could barely contain, was a tiny needle that punctured the whole facade. For the past six months, it had always been like this. She’d wear this mask of innocence in front of me, acting out these little dramas, pretending to hide her intentions while letting her smug satisfaction leak out at the edges. I just stared at her, my gaze sweeping over her perfectly crafted innocent face. I felt a coldness spread through my chest, like I was slowly sinking into an icy lake. Liam. When did he change? Why would he fall for this girl, who was so transparently artificial? At first, Liam had been openly annoyed by Maya’s attention. He’d called her clingy and exhausting. That all changed after the inter-university basketball tournament. He’d gone up for a rebound and landed wrong, twisting his ankle. It swelled up instantly. I was out of town at a crucial, intensive training camp for the academic competition. We weren’t even allowed to have our phones on most of the time. Later, I heard that Maya, who had been watching from the sidelines, burst into tears on the spot. But she hadn’t just stood there crying. With red-rimmed eyes, she had scrambled to follow him to the campus clinic, handling his registration, getting his prescription, clumsily but persistently taking care of everything. Even more surprisingly, for the entire next week, she got up an hour early every single day to meet him at his dorm, letting him lean on her as they slowly made their way to class. At the end of the day, she would do the same thing in reverse. For seven whole days. After that, their relationship warmed at a speed visible to the naked eye. Maya started calling him her “Big Brother Liam,” a title she announced half-jokingly, half-seriously, at a crowded party. And Liam… he didn’t stop her. The story spread like wildfire across campus. The brilliant, kind-but-reserved Student Government President, Liam, had an inseparable “little sister.” And as his actual girlfriend, I was given a matching, painfully awkward nickname in all the whispers and jokes: the “Official Sister-in-Law.” Every time I heard it, my stomach would clench. It just felt… wrong. But Liam would just laugh and ruffle my hair. “Don’t listen to them. You know you’re the only one for me.” Now, looking at Maya’s triumphant smile, I wondered if he could still say that and mean it. I pulled the corner of my mouth into a sarcastic smile. She kept her sweet expression perfectly in place. “Ava, are you mad at me?” Before I could answer, Liam strode up behind her. “Maya, I told you to wait for me in the library. Why’d you come all the way over here?” “I… I wasn’t sure if I should say yes to going for a walk with you…” Maya twisted the hem of her shirt, feigning anxiety. “So I wanted to ask Ava’s opinion.” Liam’s expression softened immediately. “I want you to keep me company. Why would you need someone else’s permission for that?” “But…” Maya looked down, the corner of her mouth twitching into a fleeting smile, though she held her hesitant pose. Liam’s gaze snapped to me. His eyes were full of impatience. “Maya is being more than respectful, don’t you think? She’s coming to you for permission just to take a walk with me. And you? You can’t even take a simple joke.” He still thought it was a joke. A harmless, insignificant prank. And I was the one who was being difficult. But why? Why should I have to accept a joke like that? A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Respectful? Are you really so blind you can’t see the game she’s been playing with you for the last six months?” I turned my attention fully on him. “Leaving you breakfast with little notes in front of your whole class, clinging to you and playing cute… you think that’s respectful? Pestering you until you let her call you her ‘brother’? It’s not just awkward, it’s pathetic. Can’t you see how fake this all is?” The color drained from Maya’s face. Her shoulders started to tremble as tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Liam’s face hardened. “Ava, why are you being so cruel?” He let out a short, sharp laugh, full of scorn. “An attitude like that? You’re not just a bad girlfriend, you can’t even be a decent friend.” It felt like a pair of shears had been driven straight into my chest, a deep, dull ache spreading outward. I never thought Liam, my Liam, could say something so humiliating to me. What did he think I was? A disposable part of his life? A bad girlfriend? Was he breaking up with me? I stared at him, unblinking. For a second, his expression wavered, and he looked away. I knew he was thinking of our life together, just like I was. All those years, we had been each other’s rock. We had never tried to truly hurt one another. But he had changed. His loyalty, his heart… it had shifted completely to Maya. “Maya is a good person. She won’t take this to heart,” he said, his voice clipped. “Just apologize to her, and we can move on from this.” That one sentence. In that one moment, five years of trust and intimacy shattered. I shook my head calmly. “I’m not apologizing.” His tone turned menacing. “Ava, are you really going to be like this?” Like what? I didn’t understand. Everything he was saying felt absurd. Suddenly, the will to fight, to argue, to even speak, vanished. “This is who I’ve always been,” I said. Then I turned, walked back into the study room, and shut the door behind me with a decisive click. Back at my desk, I stared at the student exchange portal again. One hour left. In one hour, the application would be irreversible. I would be leaving the city I had lived in for years, heading for a new life at the southern campus. I still didn’t click “Withdraw.” I just looked at the screen for a long time. Then I started Googling the satellite campus, reading about its programs, its dorms, its weather. Time slipped by. The application deadline passed. The status on my screen changed from “Submitted” to “Confirmed.” I let out a slow breath. Leaving Liam… it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. In fact, what I felt most was a sense of relief, as if a great weight had been lifted. My phone screen lit up. It was my best friend, Jess. A string of furious texts appeared. “AVA! I’M AT O’MALLEY’S AND YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS.” “LIAM IS HERE! AND THAT MAYA GIRL! WITH A BUNCH OF PEOPLE FROM STUDENT GOVERNMENT.” “THEY’RE DOING KARAOKE AND EVERYONE IS CHEERING FOR HIM AND MAYA TO SING A DUET! MY GOD, SHE’S PRACTICALLY DRAPED OVER HIM!” A shaky video followed. The image was blurry, the bar lighting dim and intimate. Liam was in the center of a circle of people, his collar unbuttoned, a smile on his face. Maya was pressed up against his side, her cheeks flushed. She was looking down shyly as people hollered, but she made no move to pull away. A voice yelled over the noise, “Come on, Prez! You know the rules! You lose the drinking game, you either sing a love song with a partner of our choice, or you call Ava and have her come pick you up! Your choice!” “YEAH! Call her! Let’s see if Ava will grace us with her presence!” The energy in the room peaked. Everyone knew we were fighting. And nothing fuels a crowd like drama. At the suggestion, Maya looked up at Liam, her eyes full of hopeful expectation. Liam frowned, clearly annoyed by the spectacle. He was silent for a few seconds. Then he pulled out his phone. Maya’s face fell. The call connected. His voice was stiff. “I was out of line earlier. I’ve cooled down now.” A pause. “Come over to O’Malley’s. Apologize to Maya in person, and we’ll pretend today never happened.” I said nothing. His patience evaporated. “Did you hear me? Is it really that hard for you to just say you’re sorry?” “Liam,” I said, my voice flat. “The only way I’m apologizing is if I’m dead.” “Fine! Ava, you want to be stubborn? Fine!” His anger exploded through the speaker. “Then you can stay on the line and listen to me sing a love song with someone else!” I hung up. Instantly, a new video from Jess came through. The scene was chaotic. Liam had thrown the microphone to the ground. Maya’s voice trembled, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Liam, we don’t have to sing. Please don’t be angry…” “Who said I’m not singing?” Liam’s head snapped up, his eyes finding the camera, finding Jess. He knew she was filming. “What are you hiding for? Keep recording! Make sure your precious best friend gets a good look at who I’m with now!” He grabbed Maya’s hand. As their friends gasped and cheered, he laced his fingers through hers and began to sing. Seeing that, a sharp, involuntary pang went through my heart. But the pain was fleeting. It came and went in a flash. I closed the video. And I went back to packing my suitcase. A few minutes later, I sent a text to Jess. “Hey, can you help me shop for some summer clothes tomorrow? It’s warm down south.”

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1 The night I finished my graduate thesis defense, I told Claire we were done. “Because I helped Leo with his resume and not you?” She stirred her coffee, a small, amused smile on her face. “Yes.” “Fine.” She shrugged. “Don’t come crawling back.” We’d met when we were five. We were inseparable. We were us. She was completely, utterly convinced I couldn’t live without her. She didn’t know I’d already polished my own resume. She didn’t know I’d already landed a job. She didn’t know it was in Boston. This time, I was actually leaving. … “Seriously, Alex? All this, just because I looked at his resume?” The afternoon sun cut across the café table, highlighting the perfect, bored indifference on Claire’s face. “Yes,” I said. “I’m serious. We’re breaking up.” She propped her chin on her hand, that familiar, indulgent look in her eyes. “What number is this? The eighth time you’ve broken up with me? Ninth?” I flinched. She leaned back. “Tenth? Alex, stop it. It’s been eighteen years. You can’t leave me.” “I can,” I said. “People leave people. We’ll both be fine.” “Okay.” She nodded, still smiling. “Fine. Don’t regret it.” “I won’t.” I stood up and nearly collided with Leo. He was clutching a manila envelope to his chest. “Claire, I got the callback from Bain!” he said, his eyes wide. “I… I’m really worried about the case study round. Do you think… could you just… look at my strategy…?” Claire didn’t answer, her gaze fixed on me. The old Alex would have snapped. The old Alex would have said, “What the hell does she have to do with your interview?” But I was just… tired. I turned to leave. Leo physically stepped in my way. “Alex, wait. It’s not what you think. Claire and I are just friends.” He bit his lip, mastering that look of wounded innocence. “My family… they don’t know about this stuff. This job is everything for a guy like me. You can’t be mad at her for this. She’s been up until midnight all week doing mock interviews with me. Her voice is completely shot…” I snapped. “Oh, just ‘friends’? Are ‘friends’ the ones you call to take you to urgent care when you have a 101-degree fever? Are ‘friends’ the people you text photos of new ties to, asking which one she likes better? Are ‘friends’ the ones who are magically having a crisis every single time she and I have a date night?” “Are you an orphan, Leo? Do you have no other human contacts? You know you’re not her boyfriend. You’re the son of her family’s driver. Don’t you understand what ‘boundaries’ are, or do you just not care?” He froze. His face crumpled, and his eyes immediately filled with tears. He hung his head, his shoulders starting to shake. “Alex.” Claire’s voice was sharp. She was on her feet, handing him a napkin. “I know you have a mean streak, but don’t take it out on him. He’s a nice guy.” A single tear splashed onto the table. The café was silent. I suddenly felt nothing. I was hollowed out. I walked out, leaving the two of them in that suffocating cloud of his “helplessness.” 2 I went home and slept for twelve hours. When I woke up, the first thing I saw was a new post on Leo’s Instagram. “Feeling a little down, so they took me to my first-ever poker night. So out of my element! Thanks for being so patient and not minding that I’m just a poor kid who only knows how to study. Guess the poker table is a different kind of education.” The photo was a close-up of the table. A small hand giving a “V” sign (his), next to a stack of chips being pushed forward by another, more elegant hand. On the wrist of that elegant hand was the limited-edition Patek Philippe I’d saved for a year to buy Claire for her 25th birthday. My phone buzzed. A text from Claire. “Send me your resume. I have a minute now. I’ll look it over.” It had been five hours. Five hours since she’d left the café, gone to a poker game with him, and only now was she remembering me. I stared at her contact photo. Me, at the base of a ski lift, laughing. She’d used it for years. I held my thumb over the screen. Then I went into settings, and I blocked her. Half an hour later, I was downstairs. My uncle (I’ve lived with him since my parents died) was watching the game. “Eyes are red, kid. You okay?” “Slept too long,” I mumbled. “You earned a rest,” he said, sliding a beer over. “You should be proud. But I gotta say, Claire’s got it easy. Her family just… placed her at Astra. Right in the executive training program.” “Meanwhile, you’re killing yourself to get a local offer just to be in the same city as her. I see you, Alex. Up all night.” I put the bottle down. “I’m not taking the local offer. I already accepted one. Top-tier consulting. In Boston.” He muted the TV. “Boston? That’s… what about Claire?” “I’m done trying to split myself in two, Uncle Joe.” I said. “It’s a huge opportunity. If the background check clears, I’m gone next week.” He just nodded. My phone buzzed again. My buddy, Ben, hitting me up for a grad-night party. “Go,” my uncle said, turning the volume back up. “Go be a kid.” 3 The club was packed. Ben told me to grab the first round. I was at the bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention, when I heard her voice from a VIP booth right behind me. “Claire, you’ve been staring at your phone for an hour. What’s up?” “He blocked me.” Claire’s voice. Bored. A little annoyed. “Who? Who’s got the balls to block you?” “Who do you think? My own personal pain-in-the-ass.” “Alex?” The friend sounded shocked. “Honestly, Claire, besides you, who could even put up with his temper?” Claire laughed. A low, smoky sound. “I’m the one who spoiled him. What can I do? It’s my cross to bear.” “What’d he do this time?” “Got mad because I helped Leo with his resume.” “That’s it?” The friend was incredulous. “Jesus. But seriously, though… we were all talking. We all need a guy like Leo. Sweet, thoughtful, polite. Always thinking of others…” I didn’t stick around to hear the rest. I got the drinks and went back to our table. And, of course, Leo was there. In a server’s uniform. Ben was already pissed. “We ordered Black Label. This is Jack Daniel’s. Alex is allergic to Jack. He can’t drink this.” Leo’s face flushed. “I’m sorry, it’s… it’s been so busy, I must have mixed up the order.” “So go fix it,” Ben said. “I… I can’t. I’ve already voided two checks tonight. If I void another, I’ll be fired. And… and my manager is gone.” He looked at me, his eyes wide and pleading. “Alex, please. It was my mistake. But… it’s just one bottle. You guys… you can afford it. Just this once, could you help me out?” I sat down. “Let me get this straight. You screwed up. And I have to pay for it? And I don’t even get a drink?” “It’s only, like, sixty bucks,” he whispered, “It’s just… I really need this job. I have to save up for my apartment deposit…” “And if you need your job so bad, why aren’t you better at it?” I said. “If Ben hadn’t noticed and I’d taken a sip of that, I’d be in an ambulance right now. And you want me to pay you for the privilege?” Ben chimed in. “He’s right, man. That’s a messed-up ask.” It was, objectively, his fault. But he just stood there, his face crumbling, as if we were the bullies. “You… you rich kids…” he choked out. “You just… you love looking down on people, don’t you?” He grabbed the tray, tears streaming down his face, and bolted. He ran right into Claire, who was on her way over. “Leo? What’s wrong? Who did this?” She saw us. “He brought the wrong order,” Ben said, standing up. “Jack instead of Black Label. Alex is allergic. And then he tried to make us pay for his mistake.” “It was an accident,” Leo mumbled, hiding behind her. “Claire, it’s not a big deal,” one of her friends said, following her. “They’re just rich kids pulling rank.” “It is a big deal,” Ben shot back. “Alex’s allergy is serious. He was in the ICU last year.” Claire looked at me. Her brow furrowed. “Did you drink any?” I scoffed. “Do you want me to? Would that make this more exciting for you?” She walked over, her voice low. “Alex, stop it. You didn’t drink it. He made a mistake. He’s new. He’s under pressure. Don’t take your bad mood about me out on him. It’s not easy for him.” “You think… you think I’m doing this because of you?” I laughed. “You think you’re the center of the universe. He’s the one who screwed up, and he’s the victim? Is your head on straight?” “Claire, it’s fine,” Leo whispered, tugging on her sleeve. “I’ll… I’ll pay for it. I just won’t eat this week. Don’t fight…” I was going to be sick. “Oh, save the martyr act. You did this, now you’re playing the saint? You’re pathetic.” “Alex.” Claire’s voice went cold. “That’s enough.” She turned to Leo. “Put the Jack on our tab. Get them a new bottle of Black Label, and put that on my tab, too.” “Forget it,” I said, grabbing my jacket. “I’m out. Ben, let’s go.” I heard someone from her booth mutter as I left. “God, what a drama queen.” 4 “Sorry, man,” Ben said as we hit the street. “I should have just bought a new bottle. I just… I hate that guy.” “It’s not your fault,” I said. “Why should we pay for him to be a victim?” I stopped walking. “I wasn’t lying, Ben. I broke up with her this afternoon.” He just watched me. “You don’t believe me.” He sighed. “Alex, no one believes you’ll ever really leave her. Can you? Honestly?” Can I? I let him get in his Uber and told my driver to drop me a few blocks from my uncle’s house. I needed to walk. This was the street. The one where I first met her. I was five. My parents had just died. They were speeding home for my birthday, and a truck… I was staying with my uncle, and the neighborhood kids whispered. “That’s him. The kid who made his parents drive in the storm.” “He killed them.” I… I didn’t want to be here. I went to the pond in the park. I just… walked in. And she pulled me out. This little girl with a fierce scowl and a scraped knee. She followed me home. She followed me everywhere. She said she was my knight. She was going to protect me. My parents’ death made me… mean. I hated myself, so I hated everyone else. I threw rocks at her. I told her to go away. She wouldn’t. When the kids called me an orphan, she tackled the biggest one. She got a black eye. “I’m his family now!” she yelled. When they left, I just stared at her. “You’re not my family.” “I will be,” she said, spitting out a little blood. “You just have to marry me. Then my parents will be your parents.” I think that was it. That was the moment. I pulled her to her feet. We were five years old. And we held hands. And we didn’t let go for eighteen years. Until Leo. It was our first year of grad school. He was the son of her family’s longtime driver. Smart, got a scholarship, and was staying in their guest house. The first time I felt it… it was Claire’s birthday. I was hiding in her closet to surprise her. She came in, but she wasn’t alone. It was Leo. “Happy birthday, Claire. I… I made this for you. It’s a model of your family’s beach house.” He sounded so shy. “It’s not… it’s not expensive, like what Alex gets you. But I… I stayed up all week working on it.” “It’s beautiful, Leo,” she said. “A gift you make is the most precious.” I stepped out of the closet. “What’s that supposed to mean? My gifts aren’t ‘precious’ because I buy them?” He jumped. “No! I didn’t mean…” Claire shooed him out. “Alex, what is wrong with you?” “I don’t like him.” “His mom is sick. His dad’s salary is all they have. He’s brilliant, but he’s drowning. My dad just asked me to… to look out for him.” It was only supposed to be for a little while. But he was… always… there. He’d show up at her apartment when I was there, needing help with a paper. He’d have a “crisis” when we were supposed to be celebrating. A burst pipe. A lost wallet. He’d text her, constantly, while she and I were at dinner. And if I got mad, he’d just… look down. He’d get quiet. He’d make me the bully. Even Claire… “Alex, it’s just… it’s nothing. I’m just helping him. He’s not you. Why are you so jealous?” I hated him. I hated that he made me the bad guy. I hated that she let him. I tried. I broke up with her. I’d storm off. And then I’d… I’d miss her. The real her. My knight. The girl who held my hand. And I’d go back. Ben was right. I couldn’t leave her. It was like tearing my own arm off. Until last month. My capstone project… the one I’d worked on for a year… was imploding. A rival team was trying to poach my data. I was up for 72 hours, drowning. I needed her. I needed my partner. I called. Ten times. Straight to voicemail. I finally fixed it. At 4 AM. Alone. I found out later where she was. She was at the library… helping Leo practice for a mid-term interview. A mid-term. Not even a final. She never even knew I was in trouble. That’s when I knew. Leaving… it wasn’t going to hurt at all.

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1 The slap was so fast I never even saw it coming. CRACK. The sound was sharp, absolute, echoing in the sudden silence of the classroom. I just… I was completely stunned. My left cheek went from numb to searing hot in a single heartbeat, like a fresh burn. I stumbled back, my shoulder hitting the edge of a desk. My books and pens scattered, clattering to the floor. “You awake now?” Liam’s voice was ice. I looked up, my hand trembling as I brought it to my face. He was a silhouette against the bright morning light, framed in a fuzzy, golden halo. But his eyes… his eyes were like knives. My own eyes started to burn. The entire class was frozen. You could have heard a pin drop. And then Sasha—of course, it was Sasha—wandered over, that lazy, amused smirk on her face. She was fiddling with a mini-Rubik’s Cube, of all things. “Damn, Liam,” she drawled, “you really clocked her.” She tilted her head, studying my face like I was a bug. “Aww, look. You made our little princess cry.” It was only then I realized she was right. My hands were shaking, and hot tears were streaming down my face. I touched my lip. I tasted copper. He’d made me bleed. My ears were ringing, a high-pitched, buzzing whine. “Go cry at home,” Liam said, his voice flat with disgust. “I’m not dealing with this.” He didn’t even look at me. “Stop making a scene.” That broke the spell. The whispering started. Guys in the back whistled. Someone’s phone was up, recording. The tears were so thick I couldn’t see. They dripped off my chin, leaving dark, wet spots on my uniform. Yesterday. It was just yesterday. He’d sat on my porch, laughing, eating the lunch I’d packed for him. “This is amazing, Ava,” he’d said, his voice so soft. “You’re the best.” And now? He was standing ten feet away, looking at me like I was a stranger. I ran. The second I hit the hallway, the laughter from the room erupted behind me. The cool air was a shock, making the tears and my stinging cheek burn even more. I’ve never been slapped in my life. I never knew tears could feel this hot, like they were scalding my skin. But the worst part, the part that was making it hard to breathe, was that the person who did it was Liam. The boy I’ve known my whole life. The one who promised he would always, always protect me. 2 Liam and I weren’t just “childhood friends.” We were… an entity. We lived across the hall from each other in the same apartment building. Our parents have been best friends for over a decade. My entire life, I was his shadow. In elementary school, this one boy, Jason, was relentless. He’d pull my braids, spit on my chair, put trash in my desk. I cried to the teacher, and she just said, “Oh honey, he just has a crush on you.” That night, Liam’s dad was at our apartment for dinner. He heard me telling my mom. He just called Liam into the room. “Liam. Tomorrow, you protect your sister.” The next day at recess, Liam, who was already a head taller than everyone, walked straight up to Jason, grabbed him by the shirt, and dragged him behind the gym. I hid and watched. He beat the crap out of him. “You ever touch Ava again,” he said, “I’ll break your arm.” That’s when it started. That’s when I knew. He was my hero. After that, I was glued to him. He’d huff, “Stop following me, Ava!” But I’d just trail behind, calling his name. He’d pretend to be annoyed, but I’d find him in the library, and he’d roll his eyes and say, “God, you’re a parasite,” but he’d always, always slide over to make room for me on the bench. Time just… evaporated. And sometime in middle school, he changed. I’d catch him staring. He’d blush when I sat too close. In eighth grade, at a barbecue, his dad joked, “We should just arrange their marriage now!” Liam didn’t say anything. He just… under the table… he found my hand and held it. His palm was so warm. I just blurted out, “I’D MARRY HIM!” and all the adults laughed. That perfect, simple world lasted until sophomore year. It ended the day our homeroom teacher walked in with Sasha. “This is Sasha Jensen.” The light from the window hit her, and she just… she glowed. She scanned the room, and when her eyes landed on me, she just… laughed. A loud, sharp bark. “So,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I heard this class had a ‘princess.’ Who is it?” The room went silent. “Oh,” she said, her eyes zeroing in. “The one who follows the cute guy around like a lost puppy?” My face burned. I could feel everyone looking. I’d always stuck by Liam, but no one had ever said it… like that. “Oops,” Sasha said, covering her mouth. “Was that too real?” She tilted her head, her eyes full of fake pity. “I mean, it’s high school. It’s a little… weird. Don’t you think?” “Sasha!” Liam stood up. The sound of his chair scraping was violent. “Shut up.” She just smiled. At him. And her whole face softened. “What? Am I wrong?” Then she leaned in, and whispered, just loud enough for the first few rows to hear, “Or is she just… you know… really annoying?” And Liam… he just… he hesitated. He didn’t defend me. He just slowly… sat back down. The teacher, finally, took control. “Sasha, the only open seat is… right there.” In front of Liam. When the bell rang, I went to find him. He was already walking down the hall. With her. Laughing. She looked back at me, over her shoulder. And she smiled. A bright, triumphant, horrible smile. That afternoon, I walked home alone. I still had the bubble tea I’d bought for him in my bag. The setting sun made my shadow long and lonely. I thought about what she’d said, and I thought about Liam’s silence. It felt like I had something stuck in my throat. From that day on, Sasha was a stone dropped in the smooth, calm pond of my life, and the ripples scattered everything. 3 I don’t remember when he started to change. It was slow, then all at once. Our ritual was that he’d bring me a hot pretzel from the cafeteria every morning. The day after Sasha arrived, he brought me a yogurt parfait. “I hate yogurt,” I said, my voice small. “It’s healthier,” he mumbled, not looking up from his phone. “Stop being so picky. You eat too much junk food anyway.” And then Sasha bounced up to his desk, holding the exact same yogurt. “Thanks, Liam! You’re a lifesaver!” She looked at me, her smile all sugar. “Sorry, Ava. I told him I couldn’t live without these. You don’t mind, right?” “What is your problem?” I stood up, my chair scraping. “Whoa, just a joke.” She put her hands up, fake-innocent. “God, so sensitive.” Liam grabbed my arm. “Ava, stop. She’s just… she’s blunt. Don’t be so dramatic.” Dramatic. The word hit me like a stone. I ripped my arm away. “Right. I’m the problem. Not the girl who’s here to make trouble.” “Ava!” His voice was a warning. I was so angry I couldn’t see straight. I just shoved him. “Stop defending her! What’s wrong with you?” He stumbled, grabbing my wrist. For a second, I saw the old Liam. His anger faded. “Hey… okay, okay. I’m sorry. My fault. I’ll get you a pretzel tomorrow. Deal?” I almost… I almost cried with relief. But then I saw Sasha’s face. She was watching us, and her expression wasn’t amused. It was… it was pure venom. 4 Her campaign started after that. It was subtle. She was smart. When we were picking partners in Chem lab, I was struggling to carry the heavy equipment cart. She’d clap her hands. “Oh, look! The princess is struggling! Someone, quick, a white knight! Go help her!” The guys would laugh. During the school cleanup day, I was wiping down a broom handle. She’d gasp, “Oh my god, you guys, she’s… she’s disinfecting the broom. That is… that is next-level.” The boys would howl. They’d imitate me, mincing around. Liam… at first… he’d say, “Sasha, knock it off.” But she’d just laugh and loop her arm through his. “What? I’m just trying to get her to lighten up! She’s always so serious.” And he… he started to believe her. “She’s kind of right, Ava,” he told me. “You are really tense.” After spring break, I’d gotten a tan. I wore my favorite pink dress. Sasha saw me and shrieked. “Oh my GOD! Who wears pink when they’re that dark? She looks like a… like a little black dog in a tutu!” Something in me snapped. I was holding a wet wipe from cleaning my desk. I just… I marched over and I wiped it, hard, right down her perfectly made-up face. The line of foundation and bronzer on the wipe was dark. “You psycho!” she screamed, pawing at her face. “Look at that,” I said, my voice shaking. “All that makeup just to look ‘natural.’ No wonder you’re so good at faking it.” I turned to go to the bathroom, to wash the gunk off my hand. Liam grabbed my arm. “Apologize.” “What? She called me a dog!” “And you… you hit her. Now, apologize.” He was holding her. He was protecting her. I looked at him. This stranger. “Go to hell,” I said. And that’s when he slapped me. The classroom was dead silent. I touched my burning cheek, and I just… I started to laugh. Eighteen years. All of it… gone. For a new girl he’d known for a few months. I turned and walked out. I heard Sasha, her voice dripping with fake concern, “Oh, Liam, don’t… she’s just having a tantrum…” And Liam… my Liam… was comforting her.

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1 I was visiting my folks back home when I saw my uncle, Frank, holding my six-month-old nephew and trying to get him to drink whiskey. My sister-in-law, Chloe, tried to stop him. Frank’s wife, my Aunt Brenda, slapped her across the face. “Who do you think you gave birth to, the Pope? How dare you refuse a drink from his Great Uncle!” My brother, Adam, tried to defuse the situation. Uncle Frank just laughed in his face. “You’re a lost cause, you don’t even drink. I’m teaching your son right! A little whiskey helps ’em grow! Build that tolerance young, and he’ll be a man’s man!” My little nephew, Leo, was bright red and screaming his lungs out. I walked over, grabbed Uncle Frank by the throat, shoved a handful of pills into his mouth, and washed it down with half a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “You know what they say about antibiotics and booze! Bottoms up!” Then I drop-kicked Aunt Brenda, got on top of her, and gave her a taste of my “eighteen-palm-strike.” “You like hitting women? How about one your own size!” They were screaming, crying, clawing for their phones to call 911. I just smiled. “Funny, isn’t it? You’re so eager to save your own lives. Why was it so wrong when she tried to save her son’s?” I’m the evil sister. Lazy, good-for-nothing, and a total menace. I’ve got a spine of steel and a zero-tolerance policy for BS. Combine that with my finely-honed fighting skills and a 24/7 arsenal of insults, and I’m pretty much infamous back home. Everyone avoids me. Which, by association, screwed over my brother, Adam. No matchmaker in a fifty-mile radius would touch him. Finally, after college, he met a girl on his own. The day before he brought her home, my mom grabbed me by the ear. “Sloane,” she warned, “you control that mouth and those hands.” “If you scare this one off, I swear to God, I will reenact your entire childhood discipline!” I surrendered. I was a perfect angel. When we went to the bus station to pick her up, Adam ran into a store for water. I was walking his girlfriend, Chloe, to the car when three local punks blocked our path. They whistled, said some disgusting things, and then one of them reached for her. Chloe shrank back, her eyes filling with tears. I sighed. “Hey! You guys ever heard of Sloane?” The punks paused. “You mean the Linwood Lunatic? The baddest bitch in town? Yeah, we know of her.” I sighed again. “That’s me.” I didn’t waste any more time. I dropped into a horse stance. A quick jab to the throat. A 360-degree spin kick. A swift, precise kick to the family jewels. By the time Adam got back with the water, they were all on the ground. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost. He started stammering, trying to explain to Chloe. “My sister… she doesn’t… she doesn’t beat people up every day. Just… you know… frequently.” He was making it worse. He finally just shut up, clearly wondering if he could get her on a return bus tonight. But Chloe’s face… she grabbed Adam’s hand, her eyes shining. “Adam, I always thought you were kind of a pushover. I had no idea you had a heavy-hitter in your family!” “Just for your sister,” she declared, “I am marrying you!” And just like that, the first meeting turned into an engagement. The next day, Chloe’s parents flew in. Chloe was whispering to her mom, pointing at me. Her mom’s eyes got brighter and brighter, staring at me with an intensity I didn’t understand. It wasn’t how you look at a potential sister-in-law. It was how you look at a prize-winning pitbull. 2 My mom was convinced Chloe had a few screws loose. Because after they got married, the family hierarchy was: 1. Leo (the baby), 2. Me, 3. The dog, 4. Adam. My brother was devastated. “I get the baby, okay! But why is Sloane more important than me?” “Are you telling me you only married me because of my sister?” Chloe was blunt. “Yeah, pretty much.” She explained it to him. Our family (me excluded) is too nice. We’re soft. We get bullied. Investing in me now, she said, was like having a nuclear deterrent. If anyone ever started trouble, I was the “call in the cavalry” option. It gave her a profound sense of security. Adam thought she was being paranoid. Until Leo was six months old, and we went back home for a family dinner. Uncle Frank got his hands on Leo and immediately tried to pour whiskey into his mouth. “Gotta build his tolerance! Start ’em young! C’mon, little man, have a taste!” Leo, only six months old, was instantly overwhelmed by the fumes and started screaming, his little legs kicking. Frank didn’t care. He waited for the baby to open his mouth to cry and dripped the liquor right in. Leo, shocked by the burn, wailed, his face turning a terrifying shade of red. Frank just laughed and started tossing the baby up in the air. “A little whiskey to clear his sins, a little screaming to clear his lungs! C’mon, let’s make you brave!” He was tossing my nephew around like a sack of potatoes. Leo, terrified by the repeated feeling of falling, went rigid. The relatives around them were laughing. Laughing. Aunt Brenda chimed in. “My, my, city kids are so delicate. Crying over a drop of alcohol? He’s probably just stupid, right?” Frank waved his hand. “He’s fine! I’ll give him another sip. It’ll make him smart!” He picked up his glass again. Someone finally said, “Frank, that’s enough. He’s just a baby.” Aunt Brenda’s eyes narrowed. “He’s almost one! He can’t have a sip of whiskey?” Frank ignored them, lifting the glass. Leo, remembering the burn, clamped his mouth shut and twisted his head. Brenda got angry. “Oh, for God’s sake. I’ll get it in him.” She reached out and pinched Leo’s nose shut. The baby gasped for air, his mouth flying open. Frank poured. Leo choked, a horrible, gasping, coughing sound. 3 Chloe heard the commotion and ran in. She saw what was happening and went feral, ripping Leo out of Frank’s arms. The baby was just… limp. He couldn’t even cry anymore. “What did you do to my son?” Chloe screamed. Frank just grunted. “About time you showed up. No respect. Yelling at your elders.” Brenda sneered. “We gave him a sip of booze, not poison. Stop acting like he’s dying.” “He’s a baby! You can’t give him alcohol!” Aunt Brenda’s face twisted. She hauled off and slapped Chloe so hard she stumbled. “This is our family’s house. We don’t need an outsider telling us what to do! Who do you think you are? Your kid is too good for his uncle’s whiskey?” Chloe fell, clutching Leo. She’s the sweetest person I know. She’s never been in a fight in her life. But Leo was making a tiny, kitten-like sound, his face an unnatural red. “If anything… if anything happens to my son,” she whispered, “I swear to God, I’ll kill you.” It was the most violent thing she could muster. Aunt Brenda just laughed, got on top of her, and started wailing on her. “You’ll kill me? You’ll kill me? Let’s see you try, you little bitch!” Chloe just curled around the baby, taking the punches. Frank sat back down, sipping his drink. “Everyone’s a witness! She threatened us! This is self-defense!” He picked up an empty beer bottle. “Brenda, move. You hit like a girl.” He smashed the bottle over Chloe’s head. Blood. Chloe just groaned, trying to stay conscious. Brenda, cackling, saw the broken glass on the floor. She grabbed Chloe’s hand and stomped on it. “Was this the hand you pushed my husband with? Huh?” She ground her heel in. “I’ll teach you!” 4 Someone ran and got my brother. Adam saw his wife on the floor, bloody, and his son limp, and he grabbed a fireplace poker. He’s never been in a fight. He just ran in, swinging blindly. He caught Brenda on the arm, hard enough to make her scramble back. “You hit me? You hit me?” Brenda shrieked, collapsing. “HE’S TRYING TO MURDER ME! ADAM IS KILLING HIS AUNT! EVERYONE, LOOK!” Adam’s face was purple. He ignored her, pulling Chloe and Leo up. “Chloe… oh my god… we’re going to the hospital.” Chloe just pointed at the baby. “Leo… first. He’s… he’s not crying right…” Adam saw the baby’s state and bolted for the door. Frank blocked him. “Hit your aunt and run? Not so fast. You apologize, and you pay up.” Brenda, from the floor: “A hundred thousand dollars! Or you’re not leaving!” Chloe, holding her bleeding head, was shaking with rage. “You… you hit me! You attacked my son! You’re insane!” Brenda just lay there. “I’m your elder. I’m allowed to teach you a lesson. You hit me? That’s a crime!” Adam, his voice trembling: “Uncle Frank, let me take my son to the doctor. We’ll… we’ll talk about this after.” Frank’s eyes glittered. “He’s fine. He just had a sip. Let’s talk about the money first.” Adam gritted his teeth. “Frank… don’t push me.” Frank sneered. “Or what? You’ll hit me, too?” Adam took a deep breath. And he roared. “SLOANE!” I was right outside the window. “ON IT!” “Do whatever you want! I’ll take the fall!” “SAY LESS!” I slammed the gas on my pickup. The truck crashed through the front gate, the entire structure collapsing inward. The wooden gate slammed flat, trapping Frank underneath it. I didn’t stop. I ran the front wheels right over his legs. We all heard the SNAP. As he started to scream, I jumped out of the cab and dusted off my jeans. “Everyone else? Get out. Now. Or you’re next.”

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Chapter 1 After Isabelle postponed our wedding for the tenth time, I was done. When my best friend’s second kid had his baptism, I sent a gift but didn’t go. When my buddies planned a camping trip, I found out she was invited, so I backed out. When my boss tried to “outsource” me to her firm to manage a project, I quit. Even when her parents came to my apartment to plead her case, I didn’t answer the door. I scrubbed every photo of her from my cloud. Blocked her number, deleted her contact. I deactivated the shared social media account we’d used to post our “journey.” We’d known each other for twenty-five years. We’d been in love for five. I thought we were inevitable. But after ten canceled weddings, I finally got the message. You can’t love someone else until you love yourself. “Alex, I’m so sorry, I’m on my way. I’m almost there, just wait for me.” Isabelle hung up before I could say a word. I turned to the hotel coordinator, my face burning. “My fiancée, she’s almost here. Can we just… can we have a few more minutes? We can run the rehearsal really fast.” The coordinator gave me that tight, professional smile. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vance. Your reservation for the ballroom expired ten minutes ago. The next couple is already waiting for their rehearsal. We have to clear the space.” I looked past him. The next couple was standing right there, arms crossed, looking furious. I forced a smile. “No, you’re right. My apologies. I’ll get our things.” The wedding planner followed me out. “Mr. Vance, same as the last nine times… even though the rehearsal didn’t happen, the deposit is non-refundable.” I managed a bitter laugh. “I know. It’s fine. I’m the one who wasted your time.” This was the most exclusive wedding planning firm in New York. Their schedule was booked a year out. I’d paid double the deposit just to keep them on retainer for this revolving door of failure. “You’re a valued client, Mr. Vance,” he said, which only made me feel worse. “Just text me when you’re ready to schedule the eleventh.” I almost ran out of the hotel. This was, officially, the tenth time Isabelle had missed our wedding rehearsal. The first nine times, she had an excuse: an emergency business trip, a last-minute deadline. And every time, even though the invitations had already been sent, I’d agreed to postpone. This time, I wanted to see the excuse for myself. I leaned against a tree across the street from the hotel. I waited from noon until it was pitch black. She finally pulled up, jogging toward the hotel. “Alex! Oh my god, an emergency all-hands meeting just popped up. I floored it as soon as it ended. We can still do the rehearsal, right?” Her story was full of holes. I glanced down at her outfit—a skin-tight denim skirt and heels. Not exactly “emergency meeting” attire. “It’s too late,” I said. She grabbed my arm, her pace faltering. “I’m so sorry, baby. It’s just… the company is huge. As CEO, I can’t just walk out. We can do it next time.” I just waited. I knew what was coming next. She winced. “About that… I have to fly to Europe next week. We’ll have to… just… push the wedding back. Again.” Seeing the look on my face, she went into damage-control mode. “Don’t be sad! I promise, the next one will be perfect. I’ll even have my assistant find a truly auspicious date.” “And look,” she said, trying to pull me along. “I ordered you a new suit for this one. It’s Armani. You’ll look amazing.” She always bought me a suit as a consolation prize. My closet was already full of ten of them. I wasn’t accepting an eleventh. I pulled out my phone and opened my email. I showed her the order confirmation. “Leo’s suit is ready for pickup, too,” I said. “Don’t forget to remind him.” The color drained from her face, but she recovered fast. “The company gala is next week. Leo’s my top exec; he worked hard. I bought him a gift.” I nodded. Then I opened Instagram. I showed her the post she’d made an hour ago. The one she’d clearly forgotten to hide from me. “And this?” It was a picture of her, clinking champagne glasses with someone, a table loaded with food between them. Her face flushed, but this time with anger. “Alex, are you accusing me of cheating? Fine, I lied. I wasn’t at a meeting. I was with a client. Someone has to work! “Not everyone can just be… idle… all day, obsessing over flower arrangements. I lose millions every day I’m not in the office. I’m busy!” I was speechless. I just… I had to laugh. “Idle? Isabelle, we grew up together. We both have family companies. The only reason I’m not CEO of my family’s firm right now is because you said you were worried it would ‘get in the way of our relationship.’ You asked me to take a step back.” Her face went from red to white. “Oh, so I’m the one holding you back?” she spat. “Fine! If you’re so miserable, then we’re done!” I just smiled, turned, and walked away from her. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest. My phone buzzed. It was a text. From Leo. “Mr. Vance, my sincere apologies. I insisted Isabelle try that new French bistro tonight and I’m afraid I made her late for your rehearsal. I’ll be sure to check your schedule before we schedule your eleventh.” The text was a dagger. “Dating” his secretary. And she called it “dinner with a client.” Pathetic. Isabelle and I had been inseparable since kindergarten. Our parents were old friends. It was the running joke: “You two are already an old married couple, just make it official.” I didn’t even know what marriage was, just that it meant she’d be with me forever. I wrote her a “guarantee” on notebook paper, promising I’d marry her. When we got older, our parents would tease me about it. I got so embarrassed I started avoiding her. She found me, crying, demanding to know what she’d done wrong. That’s when I knew. I was in love with her. We got together at twenty. At twenty-five, I proposed. And for the last five years, she’d been postponing the wedding. Leo, her brilliant assistant, had been by her side for the last two. They spent more time together than she and I ever did. I’d always told myself it was just work. I was done lying to myself. My phone rang again. My best friend, Mark. “Alex! Big news! My second kid, Sarah, her baptism is this Saturday. You and Isabelle have to be there.” I was about to say I’d come alone, but I remembered Mark’s wife, Lily, was Isabelle’s best friend. “Did… did Lily already tell Isabelle?” “Yeah, they’re on the phone right now. Why? You guys aren’t together? You finished the rehearsal and just went home? You’re slipping, man.” I just sighed. Everyone knew I was whipped. I mumbled that I’d be there and hung up. I went to a wine shop and bought a bottle I’d been saving. I drank it. Alone. I checked the security app for our apartment. A moving crew was there. Isabelle was packing her things. She must have seen the camera light turn on. She called my phone, and I let it go to the app’s audio. “What, Alex? Spying on me? Afraid I’m going to steal your stuff?” “Just the opposite,” I said, my voice flat. “Just reminding you to take the ten suits you bought me.” She hung up. Mark called back. He sounded furious. “She did it again, didn’t she? She bailed on the rehearsal. That’s it, I’m going to find that prick Leo and…” “Mark, don’t,” I cut him off. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not fighting. I’m… I’m just done.” I calmed him down. “It’s for the best, man,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ve been wanting to say this for a year. She… she hasn’t been present.” “Just… don’t let this mess things up between you and Lily.” “Never,” he said. I went home. The apartment was half-empty. It felt… quiet. I found her favorite perfume and a photo album she’d left. I opened the window and threw them into the dumpster. Chapter 2 To avoid Isabelle, I went to Mark and Lily’s a day early for the baptism. Mark opened the door, put a finger to his lips, and pulled me into the backyard. Through the window, we could see Isabelle, playing with Mark’s older kid. Lily was sitting next to her. “I just… I moved all my stuff out,” Isabelle was saying. “I’m just going to give him a little scare. He’ll freak out, and he’ll never yell at me again. He can’t live without me. He just needs to remember his place.” She was bragging. Mark looked like he was going to be sick. I just put a hand on his shoulder. Isabelle’s phone rang. She smiled, excused herself, and ran out the front door. We ducked behind a hedge. I followed her. Leo was leaning against his car. “I missed you,” he said, pulling her into a kiss. “I missed you, too,” she murmured. “But I couldn’t stand being away today…” “I know,” he said, his hand sliding down her back. “Thinking about you, making that idiot postpone his life ten times just for me… it’s the biggest turn-on.” “You’re awful,” she laughed, kissing him again. “It was your idea.” “And you loved it,” he said. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.” Mark physically lunged. I had to tackle him to keep him quiet. We waited until her car was gone. “You’re not… you’re not going to kill him?” I asked, letting him up. “I’m going to do worse,” Mark seethed. The next day, Isabelle called me, right on schedule. “Alex, where are you? You didn’t even show up for your best friend’s party? You have no class.” I knew she was just trying to pick a fight. I said nothing. “I left a bottle of my limited-edition perfume at the apartment,” she snapped. “I’m sure you’ve hidden it somewhere so you can smell it and think of me. I want it back. Now.” “Threw it out.” I hung up. She texted immediately. “Playing hard to get? Pathetic. Fine! I don’t want it! Don’t you dare come crawling back to me!” I deleted the text. That night, Mark put in our group chat: “Camping trip next weekend. To celebrate Sarah!” Everyone said yes. I was about to decline, and then I saw Isabelle’s text: “Sorry guys, I have to work :(” “I’m in,” I texted. Chapter 3 The next weekend, I was at the campsite, grilling skewers. A few of Lily’s friends—Isabelle’s “entourage”—came over. “So, Alex,” one of them sneered. “Valentine’s Day is coming. What’d you get Isabelle this time? Another car? Let’s see it.” They didn’t know. They still thought I was the doormat. I just ignored them and fanned the charcoal, sending a thick cloud of smoke right into their faces. They coughed and stumbled away, cussing me out. I was almost done grilling. I was about to put the teriyaki sauce on—Isabelle’s favorite—when I remembered. I wasn’t her doormat anymore. I went back to the cooler and got the habanero hot sauce. I dumped the whole bottle on. I put the skewers on the table. And, as if summoned, Isabelle appeared. I took off my apron and started walking to my car. “Alex, wait!” one of my friends called. “Isabelle’s here! She doesn’t drink beer! You have to take her drink!” I didn’t even turn around. “I don’t drink for strangers.” I heard the plastic cup hit the ground.

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Chapter 1 The night before the Common App deadline, our group chat exploded. “Holy shit! Did Sadie change her application?! I thought she and Liam were both locked for Parsons!” Someone tagged @Sadie. On the other end of the line, Sadie’s voice was lazy, like she’d just woken up, with the faint sound of a video game in the background. “Oh, you mean Liam? It’s fine. He has my passwords.” She paused, the sound of her chewing gum. “When he sees I switched, he’ll switch his to match. I mean, come on, guys. When has he ever not followed me?” I stared at my phone, my fingertips ice cold. The clack-clack-clack of my mechanical keyboard was the only sound in the dead-quiet room. I closed the group chat. I didn’t look at the application portal again. She didn’t know. She could ditch our dream for Ethan, but I had my own skyline, one I wouldn’t compromise on. The dream I’d pulled countless all-nighters for, filled hundreds of pages in my sketchbook to reach—it was never just about her. … Sadie’s words in the chat were like icicles stabbing into my chest. Parsons. That was the pact we made on the roof of the art studio back in sophomore year, staring at the stars until 3 AM. Both our families sat down together, weighing the pros and cons before we both committed to Early Decision. Now, she just… changed it. Didn’t even bother to send me a text. The chat kept buzzing. “Sadie, you’re that sure Liam’s gonna log into your account? What if he doesn’t even notice…?” Sadie let out a short, sharp laugh. The pew-pew of a kill-shot from her game. “He’ll look. I know him.” “He probably checks it eight hundred times a day, terrified something will go wrong and he won’t end up in the same dorm building as me.” Her voice was laced with a familiar, weary arrogance. “Ugh, you guys don’t get it. Have you ever had a little shadow you just can’t shake, ever since you were in diapers?” A chorus of knowing laughter filled the chat. Another guy chimed in. “Even if he sees it, you really think Liam’s gonna change his whole future at the last second just to follow you? That’s a huge risk, Sadie.” The game sounds stopped for half a second. Her voice came back, annoyed. “Shut up.” “Where else is he gonna go? Has Liam ever been away from me for more than three days since kindergarten? If he doesn’t follow me to SCAD, what’s he gonna do?” The guy who asked the first question couldn’t let it go. “Sadie, that’s… kinda messed up. You should at least tell him.” Silence from her end. Then, an agitated sigh. “I forgot. It’s annoying. I don’t want to explain it.” “Besides, it’s not like I’m just doing it for no reason. Ethan… you guys know his family situation. He said he’s scared, going down south all by himself. It’s better if he has someone there, you know? Someone to watch his back.” The chat went quiet for a few seconds. “True. With a guy like Ethan… he’s gonna attract trouble. He needs backup.” “Not like your boy Liam, always covered in charcoal dust. Put him next to Ethan, and… yikes.” “Giving up Parsons for Ethan, though. Damn, Sadie. You’re a real one.” … Their comments, that mix of teasing and agreement, a soundtrack of video game violence—it all froze me in place. My fist clenched so hard my nails dug into my palm. I wanted to scream through the phone, right at Sadie. But my body felt welded to the chair. I couldn’t move. I don’t know how long I sat there, paralyzed. Finally, I just powered down the monitor. The moment the screen went black, it felt like the last spark of light inside me went out with it. Chapter 2 I locked my door, and the darkness swallowed everything. The knot in my throat, the one I’d been choking on all night, finally unraveled. Sadie’s words just kept replaying in my head. I still couldn’t understand. How could she just give up on Parsons? On New York? We’d survived so many nights painting until dawn, pushing each other, just to earn the scores and the portfolio that got us in. Right before I saw that chat, I was buzzing, imagining us stepping onto the NYC campus together. I never imagined… That the future I’d worked my ass off to build for both of us… She could just erase it. All because some other guy said he was scared. She just changed it. And why? Why was telling me, the person who’d been by her side for eighteen years, such a burden? Was she that afraid I’d cling to her? If she was… then what about that night after the portfolio showcase? On the roof of the studio? That hesitant, paint-flecked kiss she pressed to my lips. The way our hearts were hammering against each other’s chests. What the hell was that? Was it just her blowing off steam? A stress-fueled impulse that I was stupid enough to take seriously? Something inside me just… snapped. The truth is, I didn’t need her. From elementary school through high school, I’d followed Sadie to the same schools, the same art programs. Everyone, including Sadie herself, just assumed I would always be trailing in her shadow. But nobody knew I had another, deeper reason for wanting Parsons. It had nothing to do with Sadie. Even if she didn’t go, I was still going. I closed the sketchbook lying open on my desk, the one filled with our shared ideas and promises. I didn’t look at the application portal again. I didn’t feel a single flicker of temptation to change my destination for her. She could run off to Savannah for Ethan. I had my own skyline to chase. Our paths had split. No point in looking back. Realizing that, the suffocating feeling actually started to fade. It wasn’t the end of the world. My dad always said, once your wings are strong, you gotta fly on your own. As for that kiss… I’d just write it off. Like getting scratched by a stray cat in an alley. I’d just splashed cold water on my face when a FaceTime request from Sadie popped up. My brain screamed no, but my thumb hit “accept” out of pure muscle memory. “Liam, what are you doing?” “We’re all here! The usual spot, we’re getting wings. If you don’t get here soon, they’ll all be gone!” Her background was loud, the familiar sound of our friends goofing off. It was our post-finals tradition. Everyone takes a turn treating. Tonight was Sadie’s turn. But I didn’t want to go. “I’m not coming. You guys have…” I didn’t finish before a smooth, low male voice cut in. “Sadie… Liam’s not coming? Is it… is it because I tagged along? I don’t want to crash your friends’ night…” Sadie didn’t even answer him. A few other voices jumped in. “No way, Ethan! We’re stoked you’re here!” “Don’t mind Liam… he gets… weird, you know? Doesn’t like seeing other guys around Sadie. He’ll get over it.” The edge of Ethan’s face appeared in the frame, way too close to her. He whispered, all “understanding.” “Sadie, maybe I should just go. I don’t want to make things hard for you…” Sadie’s face instantly hardened. She threw an arm around his shoulder, pulling him back. “Ethan, you sit down.” Then she turned back to the camera, her voice cold. “Liam. Come or don’t. Your choice.” “We’re not waiting. We’re eating.” The call ended. A hot, sick anger shot straight up my spine. I opened my contacts and blocked her number. It was the first time in my entire life I had ever blocked Sadie. And it was because of Ethan. Chapter 3 Ever since Ethan transferred to our studio sophomore year… The number of rules Sadie had broken for him, the exceptions she’d made… I couldn’t even count. Maybe girls just like that type. The pretty-boy, “damaged goods” vibe. While I was covered in charcoal dust and paint, grinding away in the studio… Ethan always looked like he’d just stepped out of a magazine. Clean, perfectly dressed. Even his goddamn easel looked like a fashion accessory. I’d argued with Sadie about him. We’d had cold wars. I even thought she was into him and I tried to pull away. But every time, Sadie would find me, insisting. “What are you thinking? Ethan’s just a friend. His family situation is a mess, I’m just helping him out. People say he’s hot, but behind his back, they’re tearing him apart.” I believed her. Ethan’s dad was famous, or infamous. He’d been all over the news for some massive Wall Street scandal. It screwed Ethan up. So I turned a blind eye when they got closer. Sadie had never lied to me before. She said she didn’t like him. I believed her. But then, in all the moments I wasn’t looking, they started sharing things I knew nothing about. And now… She was even changing her entire college application for him. It made my trust in her feel like a complete fucking joke. My head was spinning. My phone buzzed with a text message. !Liam, you grew a pair? You blocked me? You just wait ’til I get home.! It was Sadie, using someone else’s phone. I blocked that number, too. I checked the time, grabbed my bag, and headed out. It was the last day. Our portfolio advisor had called everyone in for a final confirmation. Traffic was bad. By the time I got there, Sadie and Ethan were already inside. The seat next to Sadie was my seat. But Ethan was sitting in it, casually twirling one of her paintbrushes. When I walked in, he didn’t move. He just looked at me, a flicker of something… challenging… in his eyes. Sadie acted like she didn’t see me. She stared straight ahead, pointedly ignoring me. She was probably waiting for me to break first, like I always did. Not this time. Fine by me. I didn’t want to sit next to her anyway. I scanned the room and walked straight over to an empty seat next to my buddy, Leo. Far away from them. “Okay, people! This is the final hours before the deadline. Double-check everything! Any last-minute questions, now’s the time!” Our advisor said her piece and then left. I was listening to Leo complain about his financial aid forms when I felt a sharp tap on the back of my head. “Liam. Outside.” Sadie’s voice. I turned, met her gaze for a second. Then I looked away, ignored her, and went back to talking to Leo. Sadie grabbed my shoulder and physically spun me around to face her. “Liam, what is this? What’s the drama this time?” “Aren’t you tired of this? We’re adults, Liam. Are you really still playing the silent treatment game? How childish.” She scowled, her voice exhausted. I was forced to look at her. I managed a smirk. “It is childish. And boring. So you can stop pretending you want to make up.” We stared at each other for a few seconds. Sadie lost patience first. “Fine. Whatever.” “Keep playing your games. Just don’t come crying to me later.” She let go, her tone dripping with that familiar condescension. I turned my back on her. I thought she’d left. But suddenly her hands were on both my shoulders, forcing me back around. She stared right into my eyes, her voice unusually serious. “Today is the last day, Liam. Your applications… check them again. Carefully. Make sure you didn’t make a mistake…” She was about to say more, but Ethan walked over, holding a tablet. “Sadie? My portal’s acting weird. Can you take a look?” Sadie nodded. Before she walked away, she did that thing she’s always done—reached up to ruffle my hair. I jerked my head to the side. Her hand froze in mid-air. Her eyes hardened. But she still finished her sentence. “Go to the computer lab. Check it one last time. Don’t be sloppy.” Chapter 4 I almost laughed. She probably thought that “reminder” was all it would take. That I’d run to the computer lab, see she’d switched to SCAD, and immediately follow her. Still twisting things, still refusing to just tell me. Of course. If she told me “I’m ditching our dream for Ethan,” she’d have to deal with me, this “annoying problem.” Too much work. Too bad for her. I wasn’t turning back. I glanced at Sadie, now totally focused on Ethan’s tablet. I grabbed Leo and we left the studio. Leo could tell I was in a black mood and dragged me to a friend’s birthday party. I couldn’t fight him, so I went. After dinner, they hauled us all to some new motorcycle-themed bar. And of course, as soon as we walked in, I saw Sadie and her crew. We knew a lot of the same people, so both groups just merged into one big booth. Sadie saw me. Her expression froze. But she didn’t speak. Didn’t even nod. I treated her like thin air. I went to the bathroom, and on my way back, I overheard Sadie talking to one of the guys in the hall. He was trying to reason with her. “Sadie, seriously, just tell him. Liam, all alone in New York? He doesn’t know anyone…” Sadie’s voice was firm, completely confident. “Don’t worry. I gave him a hint.” “He definitely changed it by now. He’s just pissed I didn’t tell him first.” I stopped dead. Footsteps. They turned the corner. When Sadie saw me, her eyes widened. She shooed the other guy away and blocked me against the dark hallway wall. “Liam. We need to talk.” I rolled my eyes and tried to walk past her. She grabbed my arm and yanked me back, trapping me between her arms and the wall. The faint smell of beer and the familiar, sharp scent of turpentine from her clothes hit me. I automatically turned my head away. We stood there. Sadie broke the silence first, with a low laugh. “Still mad? I was gonna invite you out tonight. But you blocked me. Couldn’t text you.” “Then at the studio, you pissed me off so much I forgot to say anything.” “Come on, stop it.” Her voice softened, trying to coax me. “You checked your applications, right? All good?” I kept my eyes down. Said nothing. The stalemate was broken by Ethan’s voice from behind her. “Sadie? Leo’s brother is challenging you to a drinking game.” “Oh… sorry. Am I interrupting something?” His voice was perfectly apologetic. Sometimes I swear Ethan has a GPS tracker on Sadie. Every single time she tries to talk to me alone, he just “happens” to show up. I didn’t want to deal with this. While Sadie was distracted, I ducked under her arm. As I passed Ethan, he grabbed my wrist. Hard. Chapter 5 “I’m really sorry, Liam. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Sadie’s been miserable all day because you’re mad.” Ethan’s voice was all wounded innocence. I tried to yank my arm free, but he just squeezed tighter, his nails digging into my skin. I ripped my arm away. Ethan stumbled back, bracing himself against the wall, his eyes instantly going red. “Sadie… Is Liam still mad at me? Because I came to your hangout?” “I’ll apologize to him, okay? Just… you guys, please don’t fight because of me.” He actually started to bow his head toward me. Sadie exploded. She jumped in front of Ethan. “He’s the one being a petty asshole. Why are you apologizing?” “Liam, why did you push him? You’re the one who should apologize.” Sadie glared at me. “We’re all going to be in the same place next year. What’s the big deal? Just be nice.” “If you love taking care of him so much, you two can take care of each other.” I threw the words at her and walked away. I ignored her angry warning from behind me. “Liam, that’s enough!” It took a while for Sadie and Ethan to come back. Sadie still looked pissed. Ethan, however, was back to normal, with a strange, unreadable look in his eyes. People started yelling for Truth or Dare. Besides Leo, everyone else seemed to have forgotten I existed, or maybe they just didn’t care. Right. In their eyes, I was just Sadie’s “little shadow.” Ethan got “Dare.” He had to give a “sexy dance” to someone of the same gender. His eyes scanned the group, then landed right on Sadie, his voice a playful whine. “Sadie… help me…” Sadie instinctively glanced at me, a challenge in her eyes. She tossed her head. “Fine.” If this had been last year, I would have lost my mind. But now… I felt nothing. Ethan had apparently taken dance classes. He had the body for it. He actually looked good. I just chugged my beer. I watched, cold, as Ethan, moving to the pulsing electronic music, danced on Sadie, his movements all suggestion and tension. At first, Sadie had this lazy smile, her eyes darting over to me, clearly waiting for me to explode. But as Ethan’s moves got bolder, his gaze more intense, her spine straightened. Her eyes got locked onto him. It was like everyone else in the room disappeared. The air between them was practically on fire. The song ended. Ethan “tripped” and fell perfectly, collapsing right into Sadie’s lap. He was wearing a slightly oversized shirt, and the fall made it gape open. Their bodies were pressed together, so intimate the whole bar erupted in whistles and cheers. Ethan’s face flushed red, and he pretended to hide, embarrassed. Sadie cursed, “Stop messing around,” but her arm wrapped instinctively around his waist, and she tucked his head into her neck, shielding him from everyone’s stares. That intimacy, that protection… that used to be mine. Even though I’d already decided to let go, watching it… my heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. It hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stay. I finished the last of my beer, got up, and quietly left the bar. Leo followed me out. He stood on the curb with me for an hour, just cursing them out. He’d tried to start something inside a few times, but I’d held him back. There was no point. From now on, we were just strangers. I don’t know what happened after I left. I just felt exhausted, body and soul. I got home at 11:50 PM. Ten minutes until the application portal closed for good. I felt completely drained. I collapsed onto my bed. Eighteen years of memories flooded in, drowning my resolve. The grief was suffocating. My phone rang, shattering the silence. A number I didn’t recognize. I answered. It was Sadie, her voice thick with alcohol, and a rare, sticky tenderness. “Liam… stop being stubborn… okay? Be good… and remember to change your application…” “Savannah… it’s nice, too… Forsyth Park… I’ll… I’ll take you sketching there…”

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Chapter 1 When a rival firm tried a hostile takeover of my company, it was Julian who ran the defense. He risked his own fortune, working the market to buy me time, and saved my father’s corporation. When he was framed by competitors, nearly facing prison, I was the one who mortgaged my entire inheritance. I pulled every string my father had left me, dragged him from the abyss, and bankrolled his ascent to the top of the financial world. They called us the twin wolves of Wall Street. A predatory team, our teeth only for our enemies. He bought the Atlas Tower, proposed to me on the roof, and promised the city’s skyline would light up only for me. Seven years later, the tower’s lights were all over Page Six, but this time they were celebrating the “King of Investing” and his new model girlfriend. “Chloe… she’s pregnant, and she was crying, wanted to see the lights. You know how young she is.” He had the audacity to say it over the phone. “Elara, don’t worry. As long as you’re quiet, your position as ‘Mrs. Vance’ is secure.” I listened to his magnanimous offer, and I laughed. I hung up and made one call. I shorted every single stock associated with that model’s name, every brand she endorsed, every shell company she’d been gifted. I bankrupted her overnight. He seemed to have forgotten: I owned half of this empire. I was the one who could make him a god. I could just as easily be the one to drag him to hell. When Julian returned to the penthouse, I was trimming an absurdly expensive black pine bonsai. A dozen black-suited bodyguards filled the foyer, making the apartment feel less like a home and more like a hostile boardroom. “Elara, you went too far this time.” “You zeroed out Chloe’s accounts. You blacklisted her. How is she supposed to get by in this city again?” “Do you have any idea? She’s twenty-two. And she’s pregnant!” My hand slipped. The gold shears bit too deep. Ten years of meticulous care, ruined. I tossed the shears onto the table and wiped my fingers on a silk handkerchief. “I thought she liked the spotlight. I was just giving her a taste of what it feels like to fall from it.” “Why are you still angry?” Julian kicked the mahogany table. The priceless bonsai crashed to the marble floor, shattering. “Elara, Chloe isn’t like you. Don’t use your filthy tricks on her.” Filthy. My heart seized. Fifteen years. I had been the society princess who, for his sake, learned to kill in the capital markets. The hands that once only knew piano keys and paintbrushes were now cold, hardened from tapping keyboards and signing billion-dollar contracts. I became this for him. And now, for another woman, he called me filthy. I let out a mocking laugh. “I just bankrupted her. Why are you so tense?” “Remember when I torpedoed that rival hedge fund for you? I didn’t sleep for three days. You weren’t this worked up then.” Julian’s eyes were filled with exhaustion. “Elara, what do you want?” “I told you, she’s no threat to your position. Can we just stop this?” The sharp crack of the slap echoed in the room. In an instant, Julian’s dozen bodyguards had their guns drawn and pointed at me. My own bodyguard, Leo, moved just as fast, his pistol aimed squarely at Julian’s head. I didn’t seem to notice. I just kept slapping him. Again and again, until his cheek was raw and his lip was split, bleeding. Julian finally shoved me back, then whirled on his own men, kicking the nearest one. “Who the fuck told you to pull a gun on my wife? Put them down! Now!” He turned back to me, taking my stinging hand, trying to blow on the skin. “Doesn’t your hand hurt?” A wave of utter exhaustion washed over me. I threw the divorce papers onto the blood-smeared table. “Sign them, Julian. We’re done.” He picked them up, looked at them, and tore them into confetti. His face was grim. “Elara, I told you. The title of Mrs. Vance is yours. Only yours.” “I will never divorce you.” I grabbed the heavy crystal vase from the sideboard and smashed it over his head. Watching the blood trail down his temple and mix with the blood on his lip, I smiled. It was a bright, happy smile. “Fine. No divorce. In that case, let’s watch a show. We can go right back to being Wall Street’s favorite power couple.” The 80-inch wall screen lit up. It was Chloe. She was trapped in her home’s trading room, her white clothes stained with what looked like red wine. An ear-splitting alarm blared—a margin call. A secret, over-leveraged account in her name was being forcibly liquidated. She was being wiped out. Chloe’s sobs filled our apartment. “Julian! My money! Our baby’s formula money! Julian, save me!” Julian’s hands were suddenly around my throat, slamming me against the wall. His eyes were burning. “Elara! You stop this now. If anything happens to Chloe or that baby, I swear to God, I will kill you.” I’d seen that fire in his eyes once before. Years ago, when I’d been kidnapped by a family rival. They wanted all of my father’s shares. Julian, with nothing to his name but bravado, had walked into their stronghold and offered himself as collateral—a gamble so insane they took it. He had saved me. That fire had been for me. Today, it was for someone else. The screen suddenly went black. Julian’s assistant, Bryce, burst into the room, breathless. “Mr. Vance! Ms. Rivers collapsed. She’s being rushed to the ER.” The hands on my throat disappeared. Julian was gone, not even a backward glance. Leo, looking at the red marks on my neck, was vibrating with rage. “For a B-list model… he laid hands on you, Ma’am. He’s forgotten. Without you, he’d be nothing.” I stared at the empty doorway. “Let him be blind. It’s fine.” “But I am Elara Stone. And I am no one’s victim.” Chapter 2 The financial news sites were exploding. Paparazzi shots of Julian carrying Chloe into the emergency room were everywhere. The 15-year fairy tale of Wall Street’s golden couple had become the city’s biggest joke. All the envy I had enjoyed was now replaced with pity and mockery, with speculators wondering when Julian would finally ditch his “barren old wife.” A new friend request popped up on my phone. It was Chloe. Her profile picture was two hands, clasped. One of them was Julian’s. I accepted. A photo immediately came through. An ultrasound. It was followed by a picture of Julian, down on one knee, gently pressing his head to her barely-there stomach. “Sorry to disappoint you, Elara. The baby is perfectly fine. 😉” “I should actually thank you. Julian is so worried you’ll try to hurt me again, he won’t leave my side. I tell him to go home, but he refuses.” “You have no idea how protective he is of this baby. But I guess you wouldn’t, would you? A barren old hen.” “I’ll have your title eventually, Elara. Just watch.” I laughed out loud. “Sweetie,” I texted back, “the title of ‘Mrs. Vance’ isn’t something you can just fuck your way into.” As if to prove her point, she sent me photos every morning. Julian, whose hands were made to sign billion-dollar deals, was making her soup. Julian, staring at her stomach with a look of religious reverence. Watching the photos, Leo’s face was grim. “Ma’am, just give the word. I can… teach her a lesson. I’ll handle all the messy details.” The front door suddenly crashed open. Julian stormed in, flanked by his men. They started smashing the antiques in the foyer. Julian’s face was dark. “Elara. I let the other time slide. But you actually tried to drug her.” “Just because you can’t have a child, you won’t let anyone else have one? Is that it? If we hadn’t found out, the baby would be gone!” My heart stopped. Years ago, one of Julian’s rivals, seeking revenge, broke into our house while Julian was away. They locked me in the wine cellar for three days. By the time Julian found me, the tiny embryo was long gone. I spent three months in the ICU. I survived, but I lost the ability to ever be a mother. And now, he stood in my home and accused me of being the one who “can’t have one.” Leo stepped in front of me, furious. “Mr. Vance, that’s enough!” “And who the hell are you to bark at me?” There was a sickening thud. Leo crumpled, clutching his leg. One of Julian’s men had clubbed him. I raised an eyebrow. I leaned back against the sofa and laughed. In one smooth motion, I snatched a dagger from the belt of Julian’s nearest bodyguard, lunged forward, and buried it in Julian’s shoulder. I twisted it. “Drugged her? You really think too little of me, Julian.” “But since you’re so determined to pin it on me… I should at least give you a reason. Let me remind you of my real style.” For the first time, a flash of panic crossed Julian’s face. He fumbled for his phone, but it was already ringing. “Sir! Sir, it’s bad! A group of men just stormed the hospital! They took Ms. Rivers!” Julian’s head snapped toward me, his eyes wide with disbelief. I smiled. “I told you. I never take the blame for something I haven’t earned.” Moments later, the front door was thrown open again. Chloe was dragged in, screaming, and thrown at my feet. Julian ripped the dagger from his shoulder and, in the same motion, pressed the barrel of his own gun to my forehead. “Elara. Don’t make me do this.” He was the one holding the gun, but his eyes were red-rimmed and desperate. I just laughed in his face. “Julian. Either pull the trigger right now… or get ready to bury your bastard.” His hand was shaking. His jaw was clenched so tight a vein bulged in his temple. Chloe, seeing him, started screaming again. “Julian, save me! Elara, you bitch! You’re nothing without him! Let me go, or he’ll kill you!” I smiled, and in front of everyone, I kicked her, hard, in the stomach. Chapter 3 Chloe’s howl was animalistic. “You’ll die for this, Elara! You’ll rot in hell!” “No wonder you don’t have a child! You can’t even keep your own uterus!” “You cold-hearted bitch, you don’t deserve to be a mother!” My breath hitched. My nails dug into my palms. I kicked her again, then pulled the dagger I’d taken and pressed the flat of the blade to her abdomen. “You love being fertile so much, huh? How about I cut your womb right out of you? Let’s see you get pregnant then.” Blood began to trickle down her legs. My hand tightened on the hilt. BANG. A gunshot. The bullet was so close it grazed my cheek, a searing line of heat. I stared at Julian, frozen. “You shot at me,” I whispered. “For her.” Julian’s eyes were blood-red. “I warned you, Elara. She’s just a kid. You pushed me. This is on you.” I lunged, not at her, but at him. I stabbed the dagger deep into his chest. His blood splattered onto my face. In that moment, all I could see was red, just like the path we had carved to get here. I looked him dead in the eye and twisted the blade. “You’re wrong, Julian. You pushed me.” “If you had just signed the divorce papers, none of this would have happened.” In an instant, guns were drawn on both sides. The two teams, who had fought back-to-back in a dozen corporate wars, were now aimed at each other. Julian, as if he didn’t feel the knife, pulled it from his chest. His white shirt was soaked. He walked over, picked up the whimpering Chloe, and looked at me, his gaze falling on the bleeding cut on my cheek. “I’m not divorcing you. I promised your father. The title of Mrs. Vance is yours.” “But you had better pray to God that she and the baby are okay. Or I will end you.” That afternoon, he sent me a video. It was Chloe in a hospital bed, wailing. “Our baby is gone! It’s gone! Julian, you have to kill that psycho! Avenge our child!” Then, Julian’s voice, cold as ice. “Elara. I told you. There’s a price for everything.” A moment later, a sniper bullet shattered the penthouse window. It was his declaration of war. The attacks on my assets began immediately. A cargo ship in the Pacific ‘accidentally’ scuttled. My hedge funds were shorted into oblivion. My most profitable tech companies were suddenly, mysteriously, swarming with SEC investigators. As I stared at the damage reports, I felt nothing but a cold fire. I picked up a steel-tipped letter opener and threw it across the room. It pierced our wedding portrait, sinking deep into Julian’s face. “Julian,” I said to the empty room. “The divorce is off. This is a war. ‘Til death.” Wall Street bled. The market went into freefall. The old guard, the titans of the industry, tried to intervene. “Julian, Elara has been with you from the beginning. Is one woman worth tanking the entire market?” “Elara, stop. Be reasonable. This chaos is bad for everyone.” Julian, his face a mask of stone, looked directly at me across the table. “I’ll stop. But only if Elara gets on her knees and apologizes to Chloe.” I laughed. “Apologize? Impossible. But I’d be happy to send her to hell.” He slid a photo across the table. It was my father’s mausoleum… and the small grave of my unborn child. Both were empty. Julian’s eyes were flat. “Elara. Apologize. Or I don’t know where their ashes might end up. Maybe the Hudson.” My father, who had promoted him. Our child, who never had a chance. They were now just leverage. The man I had loved, the man who had loved me, was truly dead. He had killed him himself. I looked at Julian, and I smiled. A smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Julian. You win.” Chapter 4 When I got home, their urns were sitting on the living room table. My entire staff stood by, their eyes red with fury and shame. My phone buzzed. A stream of texts from Chloe. “I guess he didn’t love you that much after all. 🤷‍♀️” “I just mentioned it, and he literally dug up your dad and your dead kid’s grave to make me feel better.” “He says you have to apologize to me, and as compensation, you’re signing over your tech portfolio to me.” “You just wait, Elara. The title of Mrs. Vance will be mine.” I read them, and I didn’t even frown. Love is what makes you hysterical. Fear of loss is what makes you fight. But when the love is gone, their provocations are meaningless. I became quiet. I spent my days in the private study, where I had moved the urns. Julian was pleased with my silence. “If you had just been this reasonable from the start, none of this would have happened.” He looked at the two urns, his gaze darkening for a moment. “I’ll find a better plot for them. A nicer location.” “Elara, don’t be so hostile. We are husband and wife.” His words were so laughable. I had spoiled him. I had let him get away with so much. I had let him believe that he could stab me, break my heart, and I would still be his loving wife. A week later, Julian’s assistant came to see me. “Mrs. Vance. Mr. Vance requests your presence. The entire board and all senior executives will be there.” “He said the asset transfer agreement is ready. He… requests that you do not make a scene.” I stood up, my face blank. I walked to the study, placed a fresh white rose in front of my father’s urn, and another in front of my child’s. Then I left. In the main boardroom, Julian sat at the head of the table. Chloe was nestled beside him, her eyes shooting daggers of triumph at me. Lining the table were the old guard. The executives who had fought and bled with us from the very beginning. The transfer agreement was placed in front of me. And a pen. Julian looked at me, his gaze heavy. “Elara, you were out of line. Even as my wife, I can’t let that go unpunished.” “Today, in front of the board, you will apologize to Chloe. You will sign over three-tenths of your portfolio to her as compensation. And then, we will put this all behind us.” Chloe smirked. “Thanks, sis. I know you’re bitter, being barren and all, but don’t worry.” “For this… ‘generous gift’… I’ll make sure my kids with Julian give you a spare bedroom when you’re old and gray.” Julian tapped the table, a clear threat. “Elara. I told you the title is yours. But that doesn’t mean I will tolerate this behavior forever.” “Be good. Don’t make me angry.” One of the old-timers, a man who had known my father, slammed his fist on the table. “Julian, you’ve gone too far!” “If it wasn’t for Warren Stone and Ms. Elara, you’d still be a two-bit trader! And you do this… for this whore? Your conscience has been eaten by dogs!” BZZT. BZZT. Not gunshots. Tasers. The old man crumpled to the ground, twitching. In an instant, a dozen guns were pointed at my head. “Elara,” Julian sighed, “how many of these loyal old fools did you buy? I gave you a chance. You didn’t take it. Don’t blame me for being ruthless.” The next second, blood sprayed across the table. Julian stared in disbelief at his hand. I smiled.

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Chapter 1 The night before the study abroad applications locked, our friend group chat exploded. [Jake]: HOLY SHIT! Liam, why’d you switch your preference to the UK? Aren’t you and Mia supposed to be doing the Paris program?? Liam’s reply was so casual it made my blood run cold. [Liam]: Eh, I switched. She has my login. It’s fine. He followed it up with a voice memo, his laugh echoing. [Liam (Voice Memo)]: “She’ll see I switched, and she’ll follow me. C’mon, you guys know my shadow. She can’t live without me!” My phone slipped from my hand. My mind went completely blank. My suitcase, half-packed on the floor, was full of things I’d bought for him. For Paris. I left the group chat. I took the gifts and dumped them in the trash. I never looked at the application portal again. He had no idea. He could throw away our future for Chloe, but I could just as easily throw him away and choose my own. All those all-nighters, all that work… it was never just for him. Liam’s words were like glass in my stomach. The Paris program. Twelve years of dreaming, three years of AP French, and countless late-night study sessions. A goal we had set together. And he just… changed it. He didn’t even have the guts to tell me to my face. Someone in the chat was still typing. [Sarah]: What if Mia doesn’t see it? The portal closes tomorrow at midnight, Liam. Liam’s text was sharp, mocking. [Liam]: Are you kidding? Mia’s been checking that portal every ten minutes since it opened. She’s more on top of it than my mom. Tsk, you guys don’t get it. A few guys replied with “true” and “savage.” Then, someone else chimed in. [Jake]: But what if she doesn’t change? That Paris design program is way better for her. Liam’s reply was slow this time, and cold. [Liam]: Bullshit. [Liam]: Mia’s got major separation anxiety. She freaked out that one time I was gone for a day and drove three hours to find me. If she doesn’t come with me, she won’t see me for three years. You do the math. [Liam]: She cares more about me than some stupid school. She’ll pick me. The chat went silent. Finally, Sarah typed again, slowly. [Sarah]: Liam, that’s… not cool. We all saw how hard she worked for this. You should at least tell her. Liam’s response was just an emoji: 🙄 [Liam]: Ugh. It’s annoying. I don’t want to explain it. You guys know how Mia is. If she knew it was because of Chloe, she’d start crying and I don’t have the energy for that drama. This is just… less hassle for me. The chat instantly lit up again. [Guy 1]: Yeah, I get it. Mia’s cool, but Chloe is… well. 🔥 [Guy 2]: Liam, you dog! … The joking messages piled up, each one like a boot on my chest. I wanted to call him. To scream. To demand an explanation. But my fingers wouldn’t move. In the end, I just turned off my phone, pulled the covers over my head, and let the darkness swallow me. Chapter 2 I stared at the ceiling until my vision blurred. How can a person change so fast? All those times we nearly cried over French verb conjugations, we never thought about quitting. Whenever we got overwhelmed, we’d pull up pictures of the Eiffel Tower and joke about which cafe we’d hit first. The day we got our acceptance letters, we both cried, then laughed. We thought the hard part was over. Our perfect happy ending was right there. And he just… let go of my hand and ran toward someone else. I wouldn’t have even been this mad if he’d just told me. But to not even say a word… In his eyes, am I really that small? And if I’m so “annoying,” then what was that promise he made me under the stars last month? The one that sounded so much like a proposal? Was it just… too dark for him to see who he was talking to? I curled into a ball, pulling my knees to my chest, and finally, I let myself cry. The truth is, I don’t need him to survive. I don’t have separation anxiety. He does. Ever since we were kids, if we ended up in different classes or on different teams, he’d get quiet and moody, and he’d only cheer up when I was back. I’ve always been the one with the plan. He was just… the one I was bringing with me. Liam was right about one thing: I had always factored him into my future. I was willing to pay the price for a high-school sweetheart, as long as it didn’t compromise my goals. But this… this was a compromise I wasn’t willing to make. I wiped my eyes, my hand hovering over the application I’d accidentally opened. I closed the tab. I didn’t open the portal again. He made his choice. I’m making mine. We’re even. I’d just washed my face when a video call request popped up from Liam. [Liam]: Hey, Shadow! Pick up! I wanna see you! I ignored it. It popped up again. And again. Finally, a text. [Liam]: We’re at the usual spot. Everyone’s waiting. Get anU uber, hurry up. I didn’t want to go. [Me]: Tired. Not coming out. His reply was instant. [Liam]: You sick? I’m coming over. [Me]: No. Don’t. I’d barely hit send when a new message popped up from a number I didn’t have saved. Chloe. [Chloe]: Hey, Mia, I’m so sorry. I’m the one who dragged Liam out tonight. I had no idea you’d be upset. I’ll leave right now, it’s totally fine. My phone suddenly felt like it was coated in that fake, sugary “green tea” air freshener. Before I could even think of a reply, my phone blew up with notifications from a different group chat. [Girl 1]: @Mia What’s your problem? Can’t stand seeing Liam with someone else? [Girl 2]: Just ’cause you’re jealous Chloe’s prettier than you, you’re gonna throw a tantrum? Psycho. I just stared. I was about to type, to defend myself, when a text from Liam came through. [Liam]: Mia, I invited Chloe. Your problem is with me. Stop being a bitch to her. [Liam]: You know what, forget it. Come or don’t. We’re having more fun without you anyway. He followed that with a picture of their food. Someone else in the chat added: “Wow, dinner is so much better without all the drama.” A bunch of psychos. I left that group chat, too. Then I went to his contact, blocked his number, and deleted it. For years, he was my “pinned” contact. Now, he belongs in the blocklist. Chapter 3 The crazy part is, when Chloe transferred here, she was my friend first. Back then, Liam was the one who warned me. “She seems fake, Mia. Be careful.” I actually tried to get them to like each other. Then came the winter formal. Chloe took off her dorky glasses, let her hair down, and showed up in this stunning red dress. After that night, Liam never told me to stay away from her again. Their “friendship” got closer. He introduced her to all his friends, our friends. Before I knew it, my circle had become her circle. He was… different with her. We had a massive fight about it once. A three-month cold war. I told him, “If you like her, just tell me. I’ll back off.” He cried. He actually cried. “You’re the only one I care about, Mia,” he said. “Chloe’s just… she’s got anxiety, her family life is a mess. I’m just trying to be a good guy.” And I believed him. He played me for a fool. The line between “helping” and “cheating” blurred until it disappeared. And now, he’d changed his entire future for her. Leaving me looking like the biggest idiot in the world. I’d lost track of time. My mom came home, saw me staring at the wall, and smiled. “Fighting with Liam again? He texted me. Said you blocked him and to tell you to add him back.” I mumbled something noncommittal and left. Our academic advisor had called a last-minute meeting to confirm our applications. When I got to the lecture hall, Liam was there. The seat next to him—my seat—was empty for a second. Then Chloe slid into it. Liam didn’t say anything. He just took the bag she handed him and put it under the chair. But his eyes kept flicking toward me. He was waiting for me to break. To make a scene. He thought wrong. I turned and sat down in the empty seat next to Ethan, the school’s resident quiet-and-handsome guy. Miles away from them. “This is it, people!” the advisor said. “The portal locks at midnight tonight. This is your last chance to triple-check. No regrets!” As she droned on, Ethan glanced at my confirmation sheet. “Hey. The Paris program, right?” he said, his voice low. “Me too. Small world.” Before I could answer, someone tapped my shoulder. Hard. “Mia. Don’t you have something to say?” I ignored him, turning back to Ethan. Liam grabbed my arm and physically dragged me out into the hallway. “Mia, are you done?” he snapped. “Throwing a tantrum is one thing, but blocking me? Seriously?” “I’m warning you, add me back right now, or you’ll never get the chance again.” I just stared at him. “Oh,” I said. “I wasn’t planning on it.” His face went pale, then dark red. “Fine. Don’t come crying to me later.” He turned to leave, but then spun back, his eyes suddenly intense. “It’s almost the deadline,” he said, his voice lower. “Just… check your application one more time, okay? Don’t… don’t mess it up.” He wanted to say more, but Chloe walked up, interrupting. “Liam? I don’t get this part of the financial aid form. Can you help me?” “Yeah, of course,” he said, his attention instantly shifting. I just smiled, a small, bitter smile, and walked away. As I reached the door, I heard him call out one last time. “Mia! Remember to check it! Really check it!” Chapter 4 Check it. Like it’s a royal decree. He really thinks I’m going to log on, see his “surprise” UK application, and immediately pivot my entire life to follow him. What a dream world he lives in. He’s too cowardly to tell me, so I’ll just pretend I don’t know. He thinks explaining things to me is “drama.” Well, I think explaining my choices to him is a waste of my time. Back in my seat, Ethan looked at me. “You okay? You look… pissed.” “I’m fine.” “Good. ‘Cause I have an extra ticket to that band playing downtown tonight, and you should come. My treat.” I was about to say no, but I was so sick of sitting at home. “Okay.” The show was great. We were leaving the venue, laughing about the drummer, when I ran right into Liam. He was standing by the exit, his face like a thundercloud. He looked at me, then at Ethan. I knew exactly what he was thinking. I didn’t care enough to explain. I just treated him like air. But I got stuck in the crowd, and I ended up in the hallway, right behind him and one of his friends. “Bro, just tell her,” his friend was saying. “The UK is a long way from France. You’re really gonna let her go alone?” Liam snorted. “What’s it to me? Besides, she’s definitely already changed it. She’s just throwing a tantrum. God, she’s so clingy, it’s annoying.” I just stood there, stunned. We rounded the corner, and he saw me. He told his friend and Ethan to go on ahead, then he backed me into an alcove. “You come to a show, and you bring him? You’ve got a lot of nerve, Shadow.” “Trying to make me jealous?” He grabbed my hand, his voice low and cocky. “Fine. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have yelled at you. We good now?” He squeezed my hand. “Did you check the application portal? Did you… check mine, too?” I said nothing. The silence stretched. And, right on cue… “Liam? They’re all ganging up on me! You have to come help!” Chloe appeared, then did a fake little gasp. “Oh! Mia! You’re here too! Did you see my IG story and follow us? That’s so sweet! You have to stop doing that, I just invited Liam ’cause I know this band is my absolute favorite, and…” There it was again. That cloying, green tea smell. I was done. I didn’t want to be in this play anymore. I ducked under Liam’s arm as he was looking at her. As I broke free, Chloe stuck out her arm, blocking me.

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Chapter 1 Five years ago, I ended things with A-list actor Julian Li. It was a clean break. My parting shot was, “I guarantee I’ll find someone else before you do.” Five years later, I was forced to share a stage with him. In front of a live audience, Julian announced, “Please stop shipping me with Cora Wu. I already have a girlfriend.” The arena went silent. Every fan turned to look at me with pity. I didn’t say a word. Because in those five years, I’d already gotten married and had children. The green room at Sirius Entertainment. I sat at the vanity, methodically touching up my makeup. My manager, Jane, was pacing. “Cora, you have to do this. The ‘JuCo’ shippers pooled a ridiculous amount of money for this fan event. They want you two on stage, singing ‘Our Song.’” My hand, holding the powder puff, froze. “No.” Jane expected this. “Cora, I know it’s been five years, but do you have any idea how much buzz this reunion has? You two are trending just for being in the same city.” I didn’t reply. Julian and I had come up together. We went from being extras in shitty network dramas to winning Oscars. The media loved our “Golden Couple” narrative. After the breakup, Julian stayed golden. I, on the other hand, had slowly faded from the spotlight. Anyone left in the industry knew: you don’t say his name to me. And you don’t say my name to him. But this time, the studio wasn’t backing down. The fans had paid too much. Two weeks later, I was standing on stage at Madison Square Garden. The stadium was packed. The opening chords of “Our Song” began. When I walked out, the roar of the crowd died instantly. Silence. No cheers, no applause. I closed my eyes and brought the mic to my lips. “If I wasn’t so in love with you, why would the night feel so long…” My voice, clear and steady, filled the void. Then, from behind me, a cool, familiar voice joined in. “Every thought I have is of you. I miss you, miss you, I miss you…” The stadium erupted. “JULIAN! JULIAN LI! WE LOVE YOU!” As the screams echoed, I opened my eyes and turned. He was there. Dressed in a dark, custom-tailored suit, walking toward me. His eyes, narrow and deep, used to light up when he saw me. Now, they were just cold. But his lips were singing words of devotion. “Love is a beautiful torture,” he sang, “but I can’t bear to let it go.” I turned back to the crowd, joining him for the chorus. “Constantly guessing what’s in your heart, and if you left a space for me…” Our voices tangled, pulling a five-year-old memory from its grave. I’d flown to Vancouver to surprise him on his closed set. I walked in and saw the film’s lead actress, Sophia Dong, casually pick up his water bottle and take a drink. Julian, a notorious germaphobe, just watched her with the softest look in his eyes. In that moment, I knew. All those years, he’d never looked at me like that. A month later, I broke up with him. “I’m done.” He’d just stared at me. He didn’t ask why. He just asked, “Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” “Okay.” No arguments. No begging. Our entire life, from college to stardom, over. That day, I tweeted: “Julian and I are over.” The internet broke. But in five years, we had never been in the same room. Until now. The song finished. Julian walked to my side. He looked past me, at the audience, and raised his microphone. “Thank you all for the love. But I need to make something very clear.” “Please, stop shipping me with Cora Wu. I already have a girlfriend.” “It’s Sophia Dong.” The crowd, which had been cheering, went dead silent. I looked at Julian. His face was as cool and beautiful as ever. The concert ended in awkward silence. I was escorted by security through the back exit. As I reached the underground parking garage, a black Mercedes G-Wagon sped past, its wind tossing my hair. I recognized it. The first car he bought with his Oscar bonus. He’d put the title in my name. He was still driving it. Just then, a diamond-blue Rolls-Royce with the license plate V-8888 glided to a stop in front of me. A driver in a black suit stepped out, opened the rear door, and bowed. “Mrs. Vaughn. The young miss and young master are asking for you.” Chapter 2 Back at the penthouse on the Upper East Side. The moment I walked in, two small bodies launched themselves at my legs. “Mommy!” I smiled, stroking their hair. I played with them for an hour before tucking them into bed. Exhausted, I lay on my own bed, scrolling through Twitter. “#JuCo Is Dead” was trending worldwide. Right below it: “#JulianAndSophia.” I clicked. Julian had just posted. [@JulianLi] 2020-2025. Thank you for walking with me through the long years. Here’s to forever. @SophiaDong He’d attached a photo gallery. The first photo… was the one of her drinking from his water bottle. I kept scrolling. The top-liked comment, with over 100k likes, was about me. [@FanGirl99] Julian’s official. Cora Wu must be regretting her entire life. She threw a fit and left, and she’ll never find a man better than him. The replies were a torrent. [@JuCo4Ever] Right? Remember when he ran into a literal fire on set to pull her out? [@LiFan] And that time he broke a producer’s nose for trying to make her drink? [@User88] He literally stayed by her side for two weeks when she had pneumonia. [@User12] He flew home from a shoot in Asia just to spend her birthday with her. [@Stan] The lesson: women need to learn gratitude, or they end up alone and bitter. I stared at the screen. I couldn’t help it. I typed out a reply. [@CoraWu] He was good to me. But I was good to him, too. [@CoraWu] I don’t regret breaking up with him. [@CoraWu] I had a very good reason. My replies were screenshotted and instantly went viral. [@FanGirl99] What “reason”? He literally saved your life! You don’t get to dump him! [@LiFan] You say you don’t regret it, but you’re probably crying your eyes out. No one waits forever. [@User88] It’s been 5 years and you’re still single. Maybe the problem is you. I was about to type again when a text came through. It was my manager, Jane. [Jane] Get off Twitter. And go to sleep. You only have one kidney. You need the rest. I sighed. [Me] I know, I know. Goodnight. I closed my phone, but my mind went back seven years. Julian, in renal failure. Me, in the hospital bed next to him, giving him one of mine without a second thought. Jane had asked me, after the breakup, if I regretted it. I told her no. When you love someone, you love them completely. The outcome was bad, but my conscience was clear. The next morning, I went to the Sirius Entertainment headquarters. Julian was in the lobby, giving an interview. A reporter was fawning over him. “Julian, the reception for you last night versus Cora was… intense. Does it feel good? Knowing she dumped you so harshly, and now you’re here, and she’s…” I realized, then. They wanted a reunion to humiliate me. Julian looked at them, his gaze calm. His eyes flickered, finding me standing at the entrance. “She and I are in the past,” he said, his voice smooth. “I have a new life. I’m sure she does, too.” The reporter laughed. “She’s been single for five years, Julian. We’d know if she had a new life.” In this industry, my private life—or lack thereof—was a miracle. No one had ever gotten a single scoop. They assumed it was because I was still obsessed with Julian. He looked away from me, his expression flat. “Then I wish her the best in finding happiness.” I stood there, watching him, and thought to myself: Thank you, Julian. I found it four years ago. Chapter 3 I walked past the media circus and into my private lounge. Jane was waiting with a stack of contracts. “You’re really doing this? In the middle of all this buzz? Why quit now?” I sat down and started signing, one after another. “I’ve made the money, I’ve won the awards. It’s time to be with my family.” “It’s time for my family to not have to be a secret.” Jane sighed, but she started helping me pack. That night was Julian’s official “Welcome back to New York” party, hosted by the studio. Attendance was mandatory. I put on a deep blue velvet gown. When I arrived at the private room at Spago, the door was ajar. I heard them talking. “Cora is probably losing her mind right now.” “Seriously. Julian was a saint to her. She threw him away.” “Now he’s with Sophia. They’re a much better match.” “I know, right? Remember them in Clear Sky? You could just tell. They were perfect.” I froze. Clear Sky. The show Julian and Sophia had starred in, six years ago. It filmed on a closed set for a year. It’s what made them both superstars. The tabloids at the time said Julian’s performance as the male lead was so convincing… he had to be in love with the real-life actress. They didn’t know how right they were. The month before I dumped him, I’d picked up his iPad. His photo album had a “favorites” folder. It contained 1,346 screenshots and on-set photos of him and Sophia. The day of our breakup… was my birthday. He’d spent the entire dinner texting, looking worried. I found out later why. Sophia had been “stuck” in a production office during a power outage. He’d been worried sick. About her. On my birthday. A waiter saw me and pulled the door open. The chatter stopped. Everyone stared. “Cora. You came.” At the head of the table, Julian looked up. His eyes were dark, unreadable. Sophia, next to him in a white dress, instinctively put her hand on his arm. “Cora, we didn’t think you’d make it,” she smiled. “Studio policy,” I said flatly. I took the only available seat, at the opposite end of the table. The tension was suffocating. Finally, Julian stood up, holding Sophia’s hand. “Since Cora’s here, this is a perfect time. I have some good news to share.” “Sophia and I are getting married. October 8th.” I went numb. October 8th. My birthday. The day I had just filed my official retirement papers for. I don’t remember the rest of the dinner. I was the first one to leave. It was pouring rain. I stood under the restaurant’s awning, watching the storm. I texted my driver to wait. The rest of the party trickled out, huddling under the awning with me. “Cora? You’re still here? Driver didn’t show?” someone asked. “Duh,” another actress sniped. “The studio cut her car service. She’s not a priority anymore.” She was right. I wasn’t Sophia. “God, this is just sad,” someone whispered. “I know. Julian’s getting married. She’s alone. Her career’s in the toilet.” Sophia, holding Julian’s arm, gave me a pitying look. “Cora, the rain is awful. You can ride with us.” I was about to decline when Julian spoke, his voice cold. “It’s not convenient.” It was a needle, sharp and thin, right in my chest. I looked at him. “It’s fine,” I said, my voice steady. “Someone is coming for me.” “Someone?” they muttered, looking around. A moment later, a set of high-beam headlights cut through the rain. A custom, stretched Lincoln limousine, with the plate ALY-8888, pulled up to the curb. A driver got out, opened a large black umbrella, and walked directly to me. “Ma’am,” he said, bowing. “The evening traffic was bad. Mr. Vaughn sent me to bring you home.” Chapter 4 Ma’am? Mr. Vaughn? Cora’s married? Everyone was frozen. Julian stared at me, his brow furrowed. “You’re… married?” I paused, looking back at him. “Do you remember what I said to you when we broke up?” I’ll find someone else before you do. He obviously didn’t believe it. A small, humorless smile touched his lips. “Is that right? Why haven’t we met him? Or does he only send a driver?” Sophia chimed in, her smile wide. “Cora, Julian is a very sentimental person. You were important to him. We’d love for you to come to our wedding.” Their wedding. On my birthday. “I have a scheduling conflict that day,” I said. “But… congratulations to you both.” I turned to the group. “It was lovely seeing you all.” It was, of course, a lie. I got in the car, and it pulled away into the night. I could almost hear their thoughts. “She must be devastated. Did you see that?” “Hiring a driver and renting a limo? That’s just… desperate.” “Poor Cora. She’s really lost it.” Back at the penthouse, I went straight to the nursery. I checked on the twins, gave them each a kiss, and sat for a while, just watching them sleep. My phone buzzed. A text from Julian. [Julian Li] If you did that to prove a point, you didn’t have to. I’m getting married. It’s time for you to forget the past. I looked at my sleeping children. My beautiful, perfect new life. [Me] I already have. I put the phone on silent and went to sleep. I dreamed of UCLA. Julian, the “Ice King” of the theater department. The guy no one could get close to. It took me three years to break through his defenses. I learned all his rules. He was a germaphobe. A meter of personal space, always. It took me a year to hold his hand. Another year for a kiss. He was the kind of man who would never cheat. But then, on that set in Vancouver, watching Sophia drink from his cup… I realized. It wasn’t that he was a germaphobe. He just wasn’t in love with me. The next morning, I was woken up by my phone ringing. Jane. “Cora! You’re trending again. It’s bad.”

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On my wedding day, my groom walked out mid-ceremony, and the entire event had to be paused. I waited, my heart full of hope, for him to return. Instead, my phone buzzed first. It was a notification from the city parking authority. In the attached photo, my Porsche was illegally parked, and through the windshield, you could clearly see two bodies, tangled together. It turned out my husband already had a new wife. I dismissed the guests, ended the wedding, tossed the ring, and, without a single tear, walked away from our seven-year relationship. I vanished from his world. And Landon, unable to find me, proceeded to lose his mind. … 1 When I got the parking violation email, I was numb for a second. I stared at it. The photo was clear. My car, parked on a side street. Through the glass, I could see the pale tangle of two bodies, a sight so visceral it hit me in the gut. I couldn’t process it. The man who had just been standing at the altar with me was, at this very moment, in my car with someone else. The wedding had reached the ring exchange. Landon took a call, didn’t say a word, and just… left. He left me alone to face the whispers of our guests, completely indifferent to how helpless an introvert like me would feel in that spotlight. As his legal wife, I didn’t even get an explanation. Just a text, thirty minutes later: “Tied up.” Two words. That was the charity he offered me. My hand trembled as I typed back, “Okay.” I thought I’d be stronger. I thought I’d forward him the picture and demand to know why. But I was too conditioned. Conditioned to agree, to accept, to endlessly retreat. The graphic image on my phone made my stomach churn, and I ran to the bathroom, vomiting into a potted plant. This time, I was truly exhausted. Seven years of being in love, seven years of being the one who always tried. In our long-distance race, Landon was always the one in the lead, and I was always changing myself to keep up. Because he didn’t want a long-distance relationship, I left my parents in California and moved to his city, New York. Because he had bad acid reflux, I stopped eating spicy food. No more hot wings, no more Thai. I learned to cook the bland, boring meals he required. I used to be my parents’ whole world. Their precious daughter who never had to lift a finger. I looked down at my hands. They were covered in rough, yellowing calluses. The skin was so coarse that the dry autumn air would split it open. No amount of expensive lotion could hide what they’d become. On my left ring finger, a plain, unadorned band was stuck, painfully tight. It was my wedding ring. When he’d put it on me, it was clearly the wrong size. It wouldn’t go on. Landon, shoving it forcefully, muttered, “You eat too much. Even the custom ring doesn’t fit. Now I’ll have to get it resized. More money, more time.” It’s hard to believe those words came from a CEO worth hundreds of millions. He forgot. He forgot we’d measured my finger in the fall. He forgot that because he refused to fix the broken hot water in our kitchen sink, my hands were constantly in ice-cold water all winter, and my fingers would swell up, red and raw. I’d asked him so many times to call a plumber. He’d just shrugged. “I use the dishwasher. Why fix it?” He never once asked if I needed it. Landon finally managed to jam the ring on, but I thought my finger was going to break. It was bright red, the ring stuck halfway between my knuckle and fingertip, unmoving. The skin around it was already turning a purplish color from the lack of circulation. He didn’t care. His face just showed the relief of having completed a task. 2 When it was my turn to give him his ring, he was gone. I stared at the band cutting into my flesh. It was me who wore the ring, and it was me who was trapped, unable to escape this relationship. I thought my sacrifices would be enough to save this broken, decaying love. Now I saw there was no point. I picked up the microphone and faced our guests, my voice suddenly strong and clear. “Landon and I are getting divorced. This isn’t a wedding, it’s a divorce party. The reception is our break-up dinner. Please, eat, drink, and then go home.” I turned and walked away, leaving Landon’s stunned family and friends behind. We’d been legally married at city hall for a while; his family knew that. But the wedding itself kept getting postponed for one reason or another. I was the one who had practically begged him for this ceremony. I should have known. A wedding no one else wants isn’t worth having. I changed out of the wedding dress and went straight to the nearest fire station. As the firefighter used a small cutting tool, he winced. “Ma’am, this ring is way too small. How did your husband even get this on? Your finger’s purple. This must have hurt like hell.” I could only offer a bitter smile. Anyone could see it didn’t fit. Landon just didn’t care. He only cared about his childhood sweetheart, Mia. When the ring was finally cut, and the blood rushed back into my finger, I took the two halves of the band and dropped them into the nearest trash can. Just like this rotten relationship. I was done with it. I took a deep breath and called my parents in California. The moment I heard my mom’s voice, all the pain I’d been holding back surged up. My eyes filled with tears. I wanted to say so much, but all that came out was, “Mom, I miss you.” She knew instantly. “Grace. Did Landon do something to you?” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Maybe it’s a mother’s intuition. “Mom, I want a divorce,” I choked out. “As soon as I get things settled here, I’m coming home.” “Okay, baby. I’m waiting for you. You know Mom will always support you.” I hadn’t asked them to fly out for the wedding, telling them it was too rushed. The truth was, I was afraid for them to see how little he valued me. Every time we talked, I’d repeat the same two lines: “I’m doing great. Landon is wonderful to me.” I couldn’t say more. I couldn’t invent details of a happiness I’d never experienced. Back at our apartment, I looked at the home I’d decorated. All the celebratory white roses and silk felt suffocating. My heart seized, and finally, I collapsed and let myself sob. You can’t force someone to love you. Why even try? After I’d cried it all out, I opened a suitcase. I was shocked to find that my belongings barely filled it. Most of the things in this apartment were “couple’s” items I’d bought. His-and-hers slippers. His-and-hers mugs. His-and-hers bathrobes. All of it had to go. Halfway through packing, I realized I didn’t have to cook. I ordered the spiciest Thai food I could find. Extra chili, extra peanut sauce. I’d been eating bland food for so long to accommodate Landon. Tonight, I was eating what I wanted. I had just finished packing when someone knocked on the door. I opened it. Landon stood there, holding my takeout bag with an impatient look on his face. The sight of him in his immaculate tailored suit holding a cheap bag of takeout was almost funny. 3 Before I could speak, he launched his attack. “This is what you’re feeding me?” I glanced at my phone. Thirty minutes ago, he’d sent me a text. “Make dinner.” Two words. A simple command. I was about to remind him he couldn’t eat this, but I turned and saw he was already at the table, digging in. The custom suit, the high-end watch, and the cheap plastic container. It was ridiculous. I’d forgotten. It wasn’t that he couldn’t eat it. It was that I cared more about his health than he did, so I’d policed it for him. He finished eating just as I came out of the bathroom holding the “his-and-hers” toothbrush holder. He glanced at it, his eyes full of disdain. “What is that? It’s hideous. Don’t tell me you expect me to use that.” “You’re right. It’s disgusting. So ugly it makes me sick.” I forced a smile and, right in front of him, threw it into the trash can. Along with this putrid, rotting love. I was done. Landon was clearly not expecting that. He finally realized I might actually be angry. He crossed the room in two long strides, wrapped his arms around my waist, and buried his head in my neck, hanging on me like a koala. Any other time, I would have melted. This time, my hands hung limp at my sides. The second he touched me, I went rigid. Goosebumps rose on my skin where he held me. That image—the photo from the parking ticket—flashed in my mind. I felt sick all over again. I stiffened my back, pushing him away until I could break his hold. Sensing my rejection, the flicker of tenderness on Landon’s face vanished, replaced by a cold annoyance. “Grace, stop being angry. I really had an emergency this afternoon. Look, I brought you a present.” He dangled a butterfly necklace from his fingers. It was covered in diamonds, sparkling under the light. Except, on the bottom right wing, a few of the stones were missing. I had just seen the “perfect” version of it on Instagram. On Mia’s feed. Her caption read: Landon got me this butterfly necklace. So tacky. I literally threw it in the trash. He took me right to Tiffany’s to pick out something else. ❤️ She’d posted pictures. The necklace, perfect. And then the necklace, lying in a public trash can. Landon had fished it out of the garbage to bring home to me. He was staring at my face. “You’ve been crying.” I hadn’t followed his train of thought. He pointed to my swollen eyes. “Just got dust in my eye while I was cleaning.” It was a pathetic excuse, but I knew Landon wouldn’t question it. He didn’t care enough to. I grabbed the “his-and-hers” towels off the rack. “Are these towels kind of ugly, too? Let’s just toss them.” They were pink and blue, with little cartoon versions of us embroidered on them. It had taken me weeks to find someone to custom-make them. Maybe my quiet resistance was finally getting to him. He just sighed and agreed. “Yeah, they’re pretty ugly.” The truth was, I had chosen every single thing in this apartment with care. I loved them all. But affection that isn’t returned is just a burden. Landon frowned, sensing something was wrong. He looked me up and down, and his gaze landed on the suitcase by the door. 4 “Are you going somewhere?” My palms started to sweat. I was terrified he’d figure it out. “I just realized how much ugly stuff we have,” I said, trying to sound casual. “It’s too much to throw out bit by bit, so I figured I’d pack it all in a suitcase and donate it to Goodwill.” The excuse was flimsy. Landon was still thinking when his phone rang. That damned, inconvenient phone. I saw the flicker of panic in his eyes. I knew exactly who it was. He hung up and, just like that, he had to leave again. As he was walking out, he paused and looked back at me, a strange look on his face. Was it… reluctance? I reached out and took the necklace from him, forcing the most understanding smile I could. “If you have to go, go. Don’t worry about me. I get it. I’m not mad.” The old me would have thrown a fit, begging him not to go. But now, I just didn’t care. This was the me he always wanted, right? He stepped forward and placed a kiss on my forehead. “If I knew a wedding would make you this obedient, I would’ve done it years ago. I’ll make it up to you when I get back.” If I knew loving you would be this painful, I thought, I would have never met you. He pressed a black card into my hand. “Throw out everything you don’t want. Buy new stuff.” The things I don’t want. Yes. It’s time to throw them out. The moment the door closed, I ran to the bathroom and scrubbed my forehead until it was raw, trying to get the feel of him off me. The next week was quiet. And full. I hired a lawyer, drafted the divorce agreement, cleared out the apartment, and transferred all my work files. Seven years of love was like a brand on my skin. Tearing it off was going to hurt, but it was better than the constant, burning pain of keeping it. Landon didn’t come home for days. His “best friend” Mia was in the hospital. She’d had a severe allergic reaction. The spicy Thai food I’d ordered that night was loaded with peanut sauce. Mia was deathly allergic to peanuts. It wasn’t hard to figure out. Landon ate my takeout, then went and kissed Mia, putting her in the ICU. And just like that, he was back to being ice-cold toward me. I called him once, just to ask when he’d be home so I could give him the divorce papers. He just yelled at me. “Grace, can you just leave me alone for one second? Mia is in the hospital because of you! I didn’t know you were this petty and jealous. We’re just friends! I married you, we had the wedding, what more do you want? For me to be chained to you 24/7? Can’t you just be generous and be nice to Mia for once?” Generous? How generous? Generous enough to hand my husband over to another woman? I couldn’t before. But now, I could. I could hear a weak female voice in the background, telling him not to be angry, that it wasn’t my fault. “Grace, Mia is literally in a hospital bed because of you, and she’s still defending you! Can you just be a decent human being and leave her alone?” He sounded disgusted with me. If you hadn’t eaten my dinner and then gone to kiss her, she wouldn’t be in the hospital. Who, exactly, is refusing to let go of whom? But I just apologized. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll come to the hospital tomorrow and apologize to Mia.” An apology wouldn’t kill me. After all, I didn’t care anymore. And soon, none of this would be my problem.

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