After My Husband Sent Me to a Psychiatric Hospital, I Decided to Fake My Death Every time my fiancé found a mistress, I would order a male escort at a nightclub. Until I caught him and my best friend in bed, and in a frenzy, I slept with his best friend, Ethan Hayes. But after my fiancé found out, he only raised an eyebrow at Ethan Hayes in public at a business reception and said, “Have fun? How was my fiancée’s… service?” Ethan Hayes had his arm around his new date and laughed without the slightest restraint. “Not bad, just a little uptight, nowhere near as good as that influencer last time.” I completely broke down and slashed my wrist with a dinner knife in front of all the guests. After I was saved, Adrian Blackwood sent me to a sanatorium on an isolated island. After a year of electroshock therapy there, my fiancé finally came to pick me up. But he did not know that I had already forgotten how to love him. A staff member swiped open the heavy metal door. “Miss Bennett, your evaluation has been approved, and Mr. Blackwood has arrived.” I sat on the hard plank bed, looked at the helicopter parked on the lawn outside the window, and nodded. As I walked through the long, pure white corridor, I could hear the idle chatter coming from the control room behind me. “She really knew how to make trouble. With someone like Mr. Blackwood, couldn’t she just turn a blind eye?” “Exactly. He’s handsome and rich, so what’s wrong with him having a little fun once in a while? Why put herself through all this?” A year ago, those voices were nails being driven into my eardrums. Now, they were only voices. Beside the helicopter, Adrian Blackwood wore a crisp cashmere coat and stood in the early winter wind. I walked up to him. He reached out, seeming to want to tuck my windblown hair behind my ear. I moved one step ahead of him and gathered my hair myself. His hand hovered in the air for a moment before slipping back into his coat pocket. He pulled open the cabin door. “Get in.” The cabin was filled with the unfamiliar scent of expensive perfume, and on the leather seat lay a wrinkled piece of expensive women’s lingerie. Adrian Blackwood’s expression changed, and he quickly grabbed the lingerie and stuffed it into his coat pocket. “My assistant is always careless. Don’t mind it.” I smiled faintly without saying anything, because that style of lingerie was Sophia Lane’s favorite. But it was fine, because I had stopped minding long ago. I fastened my seat belt, looked out the window at the outline of the isolated island rapidly shrinking below, and smiled. “Okay.” During the flight, Adrian Blackwood looked at me several times, his fingertips tapping unconsciously on his knee. “On the island… did you adapt to the treatment?” “Mm.” I looked at the clouds. He continued, “I had the servants clean your things every day, so nothing gathered dust.” “Thank you.” He was silent for a while, then took a dark blue velvet square box from his pocket and opened it, revealing an unprecedentedly gorgeous diamond ring with a shockingly large center stone. “The wedding will be held as scheduled next month. I’ve already reserved the seaside church you like.” I did not look at the ring. “Cancel the wedding, Adrian.” He frowned, closed the box, and stuffed it into my hand. “Enough, stop throwing a tantrum. I slept with your best friend, and you slept with my best friend, so we’re even.” “The position of Mrs. Blackwood will always be yours. Be good.” I held the cold velvet box without opening it. I was not throwing a tantrum. I was just going somewhere else. A distant, quiet seaside town, with a lighthouse and waves, without him, and without pain. The helicopter landed on the helipad on the top floor of the villa. Everything was the same as always, yet everything was different. I did not walk into the room that belonged to me and him, but dragged my suitcase toward the guest room. Adrian Blackwood grabbed the handle of my suitcase. “What do you mean by this?” “The room on the island was small, and I got used to it.” I stopped without turning around. “The master bedroom is too empty, so I can’t sleep there.” I remembered the surveillance video where he held Sophia Lane’s waist on our custom water bed, while around her neck she wore the pearl necklace my mother had left me. The pain in my heart at that moment was enough to make me die once. Adrian Blackwood stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly let out a scoff and released his hand. “Suit yourself. Don’t go too far. My patience is limited.” He turned and left, his back resolute. I looked at him, and the place where my heart was felt as calm as a pool of dead water. It seemed the sanatorium’s treatment really was effective, because I had already forgotten the feeling of my heart beating for him and my emotions rising and falling with him. Late at night, I had grown used to the sanatorium’s hard plank bed, and now I was no longer used to sleeping on a soft bed. During the more than three hundred days on the island, Adrian Blackwood had not called once and had not answered a single letter. When fear soaked into my bones like ice water, I cried and begged the doctors, hitting my head against the wall, only asking them to let me call him. Once, ten times, a hundred times… There was only ever a busy tone in the receiver. Later, I stopped calling. When I got better, I no longer wanted to call either.

Feeling thirsty, I got up and went downstairs to pour some water. But I saw Adrian Blackwood on the rooftop terrace, making a phone call. His voice was not loud, but I could hear him clearly. “Do you like the ring? Mm, of course it looks good on you. It’s a gift for you, so you don’t need to thank me.” After a short pause, his tone became even gentler. “Are you settling into the new apartment? If you need anything, tell me directly.” His tone was indulgent, and that tone had once belonged only to me, but now it no longer did. I held my glass of water and stood quietly downstairs, listening for a while. I found it meaningless. I had just turned around when I heard him say, “Claire? When did you come down?” He had already hung up the phone. “Just now…” He wanted to explain, but I interrupted him. “I was thirsty, so I came down for some water. Keep going, don’t mind me.” He walked toward me and reached out as if to grab me. But I had already turned around and gone upstairs one step before him. At the corner of the staircase, I saw from the corner of my eye that his gaze had been following me the whole time. The next day, when I went downstairs for breakfast, Adrian Blackwood saw me and instinctively wanted to come over and give me a good-morning kiss. That was his habit. But this time, I took a step back and avoided his lips. His smile froze on his face, but he did not say anything. Adrian Blackwood stood up, picked up his coat, and walked outside. “I need to go out for a while.” “Okay,” I replied. He reached the door, stopped, and looked at me. “You don’t want to ask anything?” I froze for a moment. Indeed, if it were the old me, I would definitely have dug to the bottom of it. I would have asked what he was going out to do, how long he would be gone, and with whom. I did not know when I had started becoming so insecure and so afraid that he would leave me. Fortunately, I would not do that now. I spoke in a calm tone. “No.” Adrian Blackwood stood in place for a few seconds, but in the end, he said nothing. After he left, I got up and went to the room to pack my luggage. There was actually not much to take. I did not want to bring the clothes I had worn during my hospitalization, because seeing those clothes would remind me of those painful memories. I put the “Recovery Diary” I had written in the sanatorium into my suitcase, then took it out again and threw it into the trash. Every page of that diary was printed with a template, and at first I filled the “triggering event” column with “Adrian Blackwood,” then it became “none,” and the last few pages were completely blank. Adrian Blackwood came back soon, and he brought his three friends with him. They discussed company matters in the billiards room. The door was not fully closed, and I could hear their conversation from the living room. “Adrian, how are things with her?” It was Ethan Hayes. Adrian Blackwood’s voice was very calm. “Not bad.” Ethan Hayes said again, “But seriously, hasn’t that little lover of yours, Sophia Lane, been a bit too flashy lately? That ring on her hand, did you really give it to her? The style is exactly the same as the one Claire picked back then. You really have guts.”

Adrian Blackwood’s voice rang out. “As long as she likes it.” Ethan Hayes said, “Aren’t you afraid the one at home will find out? You finally got her out of the sanatorium, so don’t provoke her into going back in again.” Adrian Blackwood answered, “If she knows, she knows. She’ll make a scene for a while, then behave. It’s the same routine every time, and she never gets tired of it.” Casual and matter-of-fact. The billiards room fell silent all at once. I sat on the sofa, flipping through a book, my heart calm. Ethan Hayes came out of the billiards room, walked to the sofa, sized me up, and curled his lips into a smile. “Miss Bennett, you look much better.” I did not respond. He walked over and sat beside me. “Honestly, I still remember that night last year. You look much thinner now, so I wonder if you still feel the way you did back then.” Adrian Blackwood came out last, looked at me, and said, “There’s a party tonight. Get ready. You’ll attend with me. You’re my fiancée, understand?” “What time does it end?” I asked him. He looked a little confused, as if he did not know why I was asking that question, but he still answered, “Eleven.” My flight was at one in the morning. So I nodded, which counted as agreeing. Ethan Hayes laughed. At the party, Adrian Blackwood brought me around to socialize and introduced me to others. In truth, he did not need to introduce me, because that farce back then had caused such a huge stir that everyone remembered I had once been a madwoman who slept with her fiancé’s friend and was personally sent away by her fiancé. Those people piled smiles on their faces for Adrian Blackwood, but when they looked at me, there was something else in their eyes, as if they pitied me. I smiled politely and did not care. “Adrian.” Sophia Lane’s sickly sweet voice came over. She naturally walked to Adrian Blackwood’s side, hooked her right hand around his arm, and the diamond ring on her ring finger was glaring under the lights. “Thank you.” Adrian Blackwood’s expression was normal, and he even smiled gently at her. “As long as you like it.” It was as if I did not exist at all. I felt a little nauseated, so I withdrew the hand that had been holding Adrian Blackwood’s arm. “I’m going to the restroom.” Adrian Blackwood lowered his voice by my ear. “If you really want to make a scene, wait until we get home. Don’t make trouble on this kind of occasion, understand? Come back quickly.” I hummed in agreement and looked at my pale face in the mirror, overlapping with the shadow of myself in a hospital gown at the sanatorium in my memory. I slowly pulled out a perfect smile at the mirror, then turned and left. When I came out of the restroom, I saw Ethan Hayes smoking in a corner. When he saw me, he started talking and blew out a smoke ring. “Look at you. Are you forcing yourself to hold it together? Jealous again, aren’t you? Sophia really is something. She had to wear that ring out to show off. If she provokes you into going crazy again later, she’ll be happy.”

I walked straight past him. I returned to Adrian Blackwood’s side. Adrian Blackwood looked down at me, satisfaction in his eyes. His body smelled of Sophia Lane’s perfume, and I did not know what they had done during the time I was away just now. But none of it mattered anymore. I glanced at my phone, and there was still half an hour until ten. Adrian Blackwood lowered his head and said by my ear, “The wedding will be held next month. I’ve looked at a few venues, and when we get home tonight, I’ll have my assistant send you the information so you can choose.” I looked at him. “I already said it. Forget about the wedding.” There was a hint of warning in his voice. “There should be a limit to your temper tantrums. I said the position of Mrs. Blackwood will always be yours. What else do you want from me? Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg you?” He was a little impatient and took my indifference as me making trouble. “I don’t want you to do anything,” I said. “I just won’t marry you anymore.” “Enough.” He said coldly, “Do I have to send you away again before you’ll come to your senses? Don’t be so ungrateful.” I took a deep breath. “You still think I’m throwing a tantrum, don’t you?” “What else?” He sneered. “Isn’t it just because of Sophia? How many times have you sulked at me over this already?” I wanted to say that I really did not care anymore. But before I could say it, Sophia Lane walked over again. She “accidentally” spilled wine on the front of her dress, let out a delicate cry, and fell smoothly into Adrian Blackwood’s arms as he walked over. “Adrian, I think I drank too much.” She leaned softly against Adrian Blackwood, and the hand wearing the ring wrapped tightly around Adrian Blackwood’s neck. Adrian Blackwood frowned, but he did not push her away, and instead wiped her with a handkerchief. She lifted her eyelids and glanced at me, clearly not drunk and clearly provoking me. Ethan Hayes looked toward me, as if waiting to watch a good show. Adrian Blackwood held Sophia Lane by the waist, his brows furrowed, but he did not push her away and instead glanced at me. If it were the old me, I would already have gone crazy and rushed forward to hit someone. But the current me only said calmly, “Since Miss Lane isn’t feeling well, you should take her home.” Adrian Blackwood’s expression seemed a little ugly. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Sophia Lane interrupted him. “Adrian, take me home, okay? My head is so dizzy. I only want you to take me, just like before, okay?” Adrian Blackwood hesitated for a while, then said to me, “Go home first and wait for me. I’ll come find you right after I take her home. Don’t make trouble, be good, and wait for me to come back.” I smiled and nodded. “Okay.” Adrian Blackwood picked Sophia Lane up in his arms and left under everyone’s gaze. Ethan Hayes clapped as he walked over and sized me up from head to toe. “Damn, Miss Bennett, which sanatorium did you go to that worked so well?” “Did you really change, or are you holding back something big?” I ignored him, turned around, and walked straight outside. Ethan Hayes’s voice came from behind me. “Are you really going home obediently? Not waiting for Adrian to come back and coax you?” I did not pause, and I did not turn back. I called a car, went home first to get my luggage, and then went to the airport. I boarded the plane and switched my phone to airplane mode. I slept, and it felt like I slept for a long time. After waking up, I got off the plane. I turned off airplane mode. Almost instantly, my phone vibrated violently.

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Finn broke up with me nine times because of Nevaeh, his adopted sister. The first time we broke up, I lost my mind and threw all his luggage out the door. The third time, I begged him to leave his bags, terrified he would never come back. By the eighth time, I was packing my own things in absolute silence, asking no questions. Every single time, he would return right on schedule, and we would get back together. Until this time, when he asked for a breakup once again for Nevaeh’s sake. He said, “This is just to calm Nevaeh down. We’ll get back together in a month.” I just smiled and didn’t reply. He had no idea that this time, I had decided to leave for good. And he would never find me again. *** ### “We’ll get back together in a month.” Finn ended our relationship with practiced ease, his voice smooth and comforting. When I agreed, I felt absolutely nothing. I didn’t even have the energy to argue. “Chloe.” Finn frowned, clearly annoyed by my silence. He repeated himself. “Oh. Okay.” I stopped packing my suitcase and looked back at him with a sigh. Finn was a man of his word. Every time we broke up, he would give me an exact date for when we would get back together. He had only lied to me once. It was on the night we officially decided to be together. He held me close and whispered, “You’re the only one I’ll ever love.” Men who talk too sweet can never be trusted. He seemed surprised by how calm I was. After all, during our previous breakups, I would completely lose control, crying my eyes out in front of him. “So, I’ll pack my things and move out this time…” Finn was still trying to find the right words, but I cut him off. “No need. I’ll move out. I’ve already packed most of my things.” A look of utter shock flashed across his face. The first time we broke up, I lost my mind and threw all his luggage out of the house. The third time, I begged him to leave his bags, terrified he would never come back. By the eighth time, I was packing my own things in absolute silence, asking no questions. My meltdowns, my begging, my obedience. All of it had bought me his promise to return. Along with the inevitable breakup that followed. Three days ago, Finn had handed me a gift. It was a deep blue velvet box. Inside was a diamond key pendant necklace from Tiffany. It was incredibly expensive—his usual way of buying off his guilt. I had forced a smile, though my heart was aching. In all our years together, Finn rarely gave me sweet moments. Every sudden gesture of affection was always a warning sign of the pain about to follow. That night, unable to sleep, I heard him talking on the balcony. His voice was low, but every word was crystal clear: “…I know. I’ll talk to her tomorrow… Nevaeh, please don’t be like this. You know you’ll always be the most important person in my life.” It reminded me of a few nights ago when I went to a bar to pick him up. I overheard him talking to his friends: “…I care about Chloe, but she’s strong and independent. She understands me… Nevaeh is my only family. I can’t lose her.” His friend asked, “So you still love Nevaeh, even though you’re with Chloe?” Finn was silent for a moment before replying, “Yes. I love her.” In that single second, the suffocating pain I had carried for years suddenly vanished. It was never about his responsibility as a brother. He was just using me as a placeholder while carefully loving another woman. Shaking my head, I snapped out of the memory. Under Finn’s heavy, unreadable gaze, I finished packing my bags. As I rolled my suitcase toward the door, I was already planning my permanent escape. Behind me, Finn spoke in a formal, reminding tone. “Chloe. In one month, we get back together.” I didn’t look back. I just waved my hand to show I heard him. What a coincidence. My flight out of the country was also booked for exactly one month from now. *** ###

After moving out of Finn’s apartment, I checked into a condo my parents had left me. Just like during our previous breakups, Finn didn’t reach out to me once. I had only twenty days left before leaving the country. Today, I was meeting my best friend, Joyce, at a trendy new brunch spot downtown. She was passionately trash-talking Finn before she paused and looked at me carefully. “I saw the photos Finn and Nevaeh posted on Instagram. They’re at a winery in Napa Valley.” I remained silent. I suddenly realized that during our past breakups, I would obsessively refresh Finn and Nevaeh’s social media like a masochist. Except for this time. Seeing my silence, Joyce asked gently, “Are you guys broken up again?” In our social circle, Joyce was the only one who knew about our constant cycle of breaking up and getting back together. “Yeah. We’re done.” Joyce sighed and flooded me with comforting words. I smiled, preparing to tell her about my plans to move abroad. But before the words could leave my mouth, I spotted Finn standing near the restaurant entrance, waiting for a table. “Chloe.” He called out to me instinctively. Nevaeh was clinging to his arm, looking incredibly sweet as she greeted me. “Chloe! What a coincidence. Are you here to see Finn?” She really was beautiful. No wonder Finn could never let her go. In the past, whenever we ran into each other like this, I would glare at Nevaeh as if she were my mortal enemy. Finn shot me a intense look, instinctively stepping in front of Nevaeh to shield her. I held Joyce back before she could start a fight and smiled. “Just celebrating some good news with a nice lunch.” Joyce chimed in right on cue: “Exactly! Dumping a toxic guy and finally getting appreciated by someone who actually has good taste. I’d say that’s worth celebrating, wouldn’t you?” I gave Joyce a playful nudge, but deep down, I completely agreed. Finn opened his mouth to speak, but seeing the happy banter between Joyce and me, he remained silent. We were led to different sections of the restaurant. Joyce whispered to me that Finn, seated across the room, kept looking in our direction. I just hummed in response, assuming it was nothing but guilt. “I’m so sorry, ladies,” the waiter said apologetically as Joyce tried to order. “Our chef’s special slow-cooked lamb shank is sold out for the day.” The waiter added, “The last portion was reserved by that lady over there. She’s a regular, and Mr. Collins always makes sure we save the daily specials for her.” Right then, Nevaeh’s soft laughter drifted over. I looked over and saw her naturally cutting a small piece of steak from Finn’s plate. She smiled at him and said, “Finn, yours is cooked perfectly. It’s exactly how I like it.” I smiled, turned back, and ordered something else with Joyce. Then, I pulled the Tiffany diamond necklace Finn had given me out of my bag and handed it to Joyce. “Here, this is for you. Consider it compensation for the lamb shank you didn’t get.” Just then, Finn and Nevaeh rose to leave, walking right past our table. Finn’s eyes locked onto the sparkling diamond necklace in Joyce’s hands. Joyce hesitated, “Chloe, this is way too expensive!…” “Just take it,” I interrupted with a wink. “It’ll look perfect with that new dress of yours, don’t you think?” *** ###

With only ten days left, I handed in my resignation to my boss. After work that day, I walked back to my apartment feeling a mix of relief and nostalgia. Just as I pulled my keys out of my bag, a figure stepped out from the shadows of the stairwell. “Chloe, it’s me.” Finn looked exhausted. I immediately took a step back, maintaining my distance. “What are you doing here?” I made no effort to hide my annoyance. “How did you get in?” “Waiting for you,” Finn said shortly. “I wanted to surprise you.” I was speechless. If this were the past, coming home to find Finn waiting at my door would have been a miracle I prayed for. Now, looking at the strange, searching look in his eyes, I just felt tired. I sighed, feeling a sudden urge to just tell him the truth. But I suppressed it. I didn’t want any unnecessary drama. “You should be with Nevaeh instead of coming here. Don’t make her misunderstand.” I spoke calmly, trying to be reasonable. “Misunderstand what? We’re legally just siblings,” Finn said, ignoring the obvious reality of their dynamic. I tilted my head, looking at him, choosing not to call out his lie. “Whatever you are, I’m just the ex-girlfriend.” Even if our breakups were a joke to him, I was still the ex. Silence fell over the hallway, save for the faint hum of city traffic below. After a long pause, Finn looked up, trying to make his twisted logic sound reasonable. “I know it was wrong of me to break up with you again. But Nevaeh can’t handle you being around. I can’t trigger her. Chloe, you’re different. You’re strong. You can bounce back from anything. But she can’t. If I leave her, she’ll completely fall apart.” I turned away, feeling a sudden wave of disgust. Nevaeh couldn’t be triggered, so I deserved to be discarded nine times? With my back to him, my voice sounded muffled. “How thoughtful of you, Mr. Collins. I have nothing to say.” Finn opened his mouth to speak, but his phone started ringing. It was Nevaeh. The loud, custom ringtone sounded incredibly grating in the quiet hallway. I turned around, looked at her name flashing on the screen, and said calmly, “Go to her. We can talk about us later.” Finn looked at me, then down at his phone. Finally, he turned and walked toward the elevator. I watched his shadow disappear. Only then did I open my door, walk inside, and lock it tight. Locking away everything that had just happened, and everything from our past, behind a door he could never open again. *** ###

Time flew by. After finishing my transition at work, my departure date drew closer. Without a job and without Finn, I completely disconnected from the San Francisco social scene. My life became incredibly peaceful. Only Joyce, who knew I was leaving, would occasionally call to give me updates. She told me that after our run-in at the restaurant, Finn and Nevaeh had a massive fight, and their friends had to step in to mediate. She also mentioned that Nevaeh had publicly screamed at Finn during a dinner party, leaving him standing in the corner looking completely lost. I listened to all of it without feeling a thing. In the past, news of Finn and Nevaeh fighting was my green light to beg him for an early reconciliation. But this time, I didn’t even have the urge to look at his social media. Even when Joyce casually mentioned that Finn had been asking her about me, I didn’t care. What surprised me more was that Finn actually started calling me. I repeatedly declined his calls, a move so cold that even Joyce, who was getting a facial with me, noticed. “Is it true what they say? The more you pull away, the harder they chase?” Joyce joked, and I playfully kicked her leg. After our spa session, we sat in a café sipping tea. Joyce sighed softly. “You know, in the beginning, Finn really did treat you well.” My mind drifted back to the past. I met Finn when I was a student at Berkeley. He was eight years older than me, a rising star in the business world whom my father highly respected. When my parents moved to Europe, they asked him to look after me. Back then, the powerful Silicon Valley investor had spoiled me rotten. When I sprained my ankle during a football game, he ran down from the stands and carried me to the clinic in front of everyone. When I was crying in the library, overwhelmed by exams and worrying about my mother’s surgery, he found me and held me until I calmed down. When I bought a cheap, sketchy used car to save money and it broke down on the highway, he not only got me a full refund but made sure the shady dealer faced legal consequences. I couldn’t even point to the exact moment I fell in love with the man who protected me like a precious girl. I had openly showed him my devotion. Finn, used to pampering me, didn’t realize my feelings until I finally confessed to him. His face had turned solemn, ending in a deep sigh. “Nevaeh needs me. She can’t handle me being in a relationship.” That was the night I first learned about Nevaeh’s existence. His parents’ legally adopted daughter. The sister who “needed” him. That failed confession marked the beginning of nine years of agonizing entanglement. It wasn’t until Nevaeh went abroad for therapy that I naively confessed a second time. He answered me with a kiss, binding himself to me with a promise of a real relationship. But when Nevaeh returned and found out we were officially together, she had a complete breakdown. And Finn broke up with me for the first time. By the time the cycle of breaking up, getting back together, and breaking up again became routine, I had stopped hating Nevaeh. I started hating Finn. What did he think I was? A convenient comfort he could summon and discard whenever he pleased? If he didn’t love me, why did he keep coming back? I should have realized much earlier that our relationship was just a twisted ritual. It was his way of proving to Nevaeh, and to himself: *“I tried to love someone else, but in the end, I still belong to you.”* Snapping out of my thoughts, I cut off Joyce’s rambling. I looked down at my phone. Tomorrow, I was leaving. A sense of excitement washed over me. Let the title of “ex-girlfriend” exist for just another twenty-four hours. After that, we would be nothing but strangers. *** ###

To avoid any drama from Finn, I checked into a luxury hotel downtown for my final night. I didn’t expect Nevaeh to find me first. My phone buzzed with an incoming photo. I opened it. It was a photo of Finn and Nevaeh lying in his bed. She was wearing his button-down shirt, curled up in his chest. He was asleep, his arm naturally draped over her waist. The background was the familiar headboard of his bedroom. Then, my phone rang. Her voice was dripping with smugness. “See this, Chloe?” she said, her voice filled with triumph. “This is how we really are. You were nothing but a substitute.” I took a deep breath. After years of putting up with her games, I couldn’t believe she still thought she could hurt me with this. “Nevaeh, if you have nothing intelligent to say, keep your mouth shut.” I didn’t hold back. I was done playing the victim. “I don’t know what cheap tricks you used to get that photo, but congratulations, you win this round.” Nevaeh ignored my sarcasm, her tone suddenly dropping into frustration. “Finn broke up with you nine times just to use you as my replacement. I’m the one he loves.” My heart twinged slightly. Yes, I knew that. “But so what? Whenever I need him, he comes running back. I thought this time would be the same, but…” She paused, revealing something I had been actively trying to ignore. “But he’s been fighting with me constantly this time. He said we can’t keep doing this, that I’m just his sister. You, the little substitute, actually managed to crawl into his heart.” I didn’t buy her words, but I found it hilarious that she was actually feeling insecure. I mocked her, “So, are you scared now?” Nevaeh suddenly let out a sharp, arrogant laugh. “Scared? Chloe, are you blind? Even if he hesitates, he can never say no to me. I asked him to marry me. Want to guess if he said yes?” I sighed and hung up the phone. I always knew Nevaeh’s place in Finn’s heart. The year he carried me out of the stadium, I saw Nevaeh’s name tattooed on the inside of his wrist. The year he comforted me, he was busy texting Nevaeh to calm her down. The year he ruined that used car dealership for me, he used the family trust fund that he shared with Nevaeh. He had consumed my entire youth. But Nevaeh was a shadow he could never escape. That night, knowing Finn wouldn’t call, I still kept my eyes on my phone. I sat on the hotel sofa, staring at the screen all night. Today was supposed to be our tenth reconciliation. Instead, I was leaving. At 7:00 AM, I headed to the airport and deleted all of his social media accounts. At 8:00 AM, after passing through security, I blocked his number. At 9:00 AM, I boarded the plane. As I was deleting every photo and trace of him from my phone, including that pathetic photo from Nevaeh, my phone rang. It was Joyce. I answered. But instead of Joyce, Finn’s panicked, shaky voice came through the receiver, sounding close to tears. “Chloe, where are you?”

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My wife said she was allergic to semen, so every time we reached the final moment, she made me take care of myself. But she was willing to swallow her lovers’ stuff. In seven years of marriage, she took exactly twenty-nine lovers. The thirtieth young man sat naked in the middle of the studio while Vivian Blake focused on drawing a nude sketch of him. When I pushed the door open, the sound of charcoal scraping against paper stopped dead. “Isn’t drawing outside enough for you? You had to bring him home to draw him?” Vivian did not even lift her head as she pulled a palm-sized sticky note from beside the easel, scribbled a few strokes on it, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it at my feet. “There, I made up your drawing.” That night, the light in the studio stayed on until after midnight. Early the next morning, Vivian was furious at my indifference. But she had forgotten that we had an agreement: every time she made me angry, she had to paint a portrait of me. Once the portraits reached one hundred, we would get divorced. The sticky note she drew with an eyebrow pencil last night was the ninety-ninth.

“Ethan, go get Liam something to wear.” Vivian sat on the bed half-wrapped in a robe, lit a cigarette, and ordered me around. Clothes were scattered all over the floor, as if telling the story of how intense last night had been. I stood still and glanced at her. Liam Hayes, wrapped in the blanket, looked at me with a bright smile. “Ms. Blake, this doesn’t seem right, does it? He is Mr. Cole, after all.” He called me “Mr. Cole,” but there was not a trace of guilt in his tone, only smugness and provocation. The blanket slipped a little with his movement, revealing skin covered in red marks. “Besides, I’m afraid Mr. Cole won’t have anything that fits me!” My face was blank as I turned and walked toward the door. “Ethan! I’m talking to you!” Her voice came from behind me, carrying a hint of displeasure. I paused, but I did not look back. “If he needs clothes, he can get them himself. I have things to do.” In seven years, I had rarely gone against her. Whether she made it obvious or only hinted at it, I almost never refused anything she asked me to do. Today was the first time. “What did you say?” Vivian was clearly not used to my cold attitude, and anger crept into her voice. “You have things to do? What could you possibly have to do? You stay home every day and don’t even work for money!” “Ethan, you’d better remember this. If I hadn’t married you, how could you have ever lived like this on your own?” She was right. If I had not married her, I really would not have had this comfortable life with no worries about food or clothes. But she had forgotten that this was not the life I wanted. Back then, my family’s company had just run into trouble. Walter, the old butler who had taken care of me since I was young, told me that because the cash flow had broken, the family business was on the verge of bankruptcy. If we could not find someone to invest, the old employees who had followed us for years would have nowhere to go. It was at that moment that Vivian appeared. She gave me one condition: marry her, and she would inject capital into my family’s company. I hesitated. She saw my hesitation, tapped her brush against the easel, and added in a tone that gave me no room to refuse. “How about this? I have a bad temper, so if I make you angry in the future, I’ll paint you a portrait.” “When I’ve painted one hundred of them, our debt will be cleared.” After we got married, I never hoped for love. Sure enough, it did not take long before I discovered that she had chosen me only because I resembled someone she could not forget. The first portrait was delivered in the third month of our marriage. The technique was exquisite. Starting with the twentieth portrait, there was no frame. Starting with the fiftieth portrait, it became a sketch. Starting with the eightieth portrait, it was only a few careless strokes. The one she drew with an eyebrow pencil on a sticky note last night was the ninety-ninth. In the drawer of my study, ninety-eight portraits were stacked neatly. From serious to careless, they recorded her journey from slight guilt to complete indifference. Just then, Liam walked out of the walk-in closet wearing an off-white casual outfit. I froze for a moment. At that instant, he looked too much like that person. It seemed he had come prepared. Vivian’s gaze fixed on him. Perhaps because of that familiar shadow, she was not as casual as usual and actually stared for a second before saying, “Not bad. Keep that style.” Liam’s smile grew wider. “Really? Then Ms. Blake has to take me out later and buy me a few more outfits.” Vivian nodded. He glanced at me and deliberately asked, “Mr. Cole should come too, right?” I knew he wanted to embarrass me. “No, I have things to do.” But Vivian frowned. “You’re coming too. Don’t make me say it twice.” I knew this was not the time to clash with her head-on. I did not argue again and answered in a low voice. I would endure it one more time. Once I collected the hundredth perfunctory “portrait,” I would be free.

Vivian booked an entire floor of an art gallery. She stood beside Liam and watched him pose. In a gentle tone I had never heard from her before, she said, “That angle is good.” Liam smiled and adjusted his pose. “If Ms. Blake paints me, it’ll definitely be worth a lot.” The corner of his eye swept toward me, full of provocation. The gallery manager flattered him. “Mr. Hayes really has such artistic presence.” Vivian did not deny it. The manager looked at me. “And this gentleman is…?” Vivian seemed to have only just remembered me. “He’s with us. Ethan, take a look too.” The manager exclaimed, “You’re even this kind to your assistant. Ms. Blake, you’re so considerate.” I said nothing and continued replying to emails on my phone. I had already handled my family’s affairs. “I’ll look at that one.” I casually pointed at a landscape painting. “Then I like that one too,” Liam immediately said. I frowned. “Go look over there.” “I’m just looking.” He suddenly turned sideways, jabbed his elbow into my ribs, and tripped me with his foot. I stumbled backward and crashed into the base of a metal sculpture. The edge scraped across my arm and back, burning with pain. I also hit the glass cabinet beside it, and the replica sculptures inside shattered all over the floor. Vivian rushed over, her face dark. Liam retreated to a safe distance, covered the back of his hand that had “accidentally” brushed against some broken plaster, and frowned. “Is Mr. Cole upset? If you don’t want me to look, I won’t look. Why did you have to push me?” He held out his hand, where there was a barely visible red mark on the back. Vivian immediately held his hand, her face full of distress. “How did this happen? Does it hurt?” She glared at me. “Ethan! Are you really that petty? Was it worth it over one painting?” I braced myself against the base and tried to stand, but my wound hurt and blood was seeping out. I opened my mouth. “I didn’t. He was the one who—” “You’re still making excuses?” she cut me off, not seeing my miserable state. “It’s always like this with you!” She held Liam’s hand and comforted him softly. “Don’t be scared. I’ll take you to a doctor.” Liam leaned against her and frowned pitifully. “Will it affect my painting?” “No. I’ll take you to the best doctor.” She supported him and turned to leave. When she passed me, she did not stop, only threw me one cold sentence. “I’ll make up a drawing for you later.” Then she left without looking back. She left me behind with the mess all over the floor. The “makeup drawing” promised in the gallery should be the hundredth one.

I endured the pain and went to a private medical center. The doctor prepared to treat my wounds. “There’s debris in the wound, so we’ll need to clean it out. We’ll use some anesthetic first…” Vivian rushed in, holding the best antibiotic ointment. “Doctor, use this ointment on Liam first! His hand can’t get infected!” “But Ms. Blake, Mr. Cole’s wound is deeper…” “What does he have to be afraid of?” Vivian impatiently interrupted the doctor, only then noticing the blood on me and frowning. “Just bandage him up however you can first. Liam’s hand is the hand he uses to paint!” The doctor looked at me helplessly. I said, “Use it on him.” The doctor sighed and left with the ointment. I turned to the nurse. “Just clean it directly. No anesthetic.” The nurse froze. “But without anesthetic, it will hurt a lot…” “It’s fine.” The tweezers probed into the wound and pulled out the debris. Every time, it felt like a branding iron searing my flesh. I clenched my teeth and did not make a sound. When it was over, the nurse’s hands were shaking, and she whispered, “You… really can endure pain.” I said nothing. After my wounds were treated, I went home. The kitchen smelled of soup. The housekeeper saw me and avoided my eyes. “Sir, Ms. Blake asked me to make soup for Mr. Hayes, and I have to go over there to take care of him for the next few days.” She looked at my arm wrapped in gauze and paused. “There’s still a little left in the pot. Would you like some?” I tugged at the corner of my mouth. “No.” Even a housekeeper knew to ask. But my wife, who had shared my bed for seven years, had not even noticed how badly I was hurt. My phone vibrated. It was a confidential message from the family lawyer. “Everything is in place. Ready for handover at any time.” I replied to confirm and booked the earliest flight overseas for the next morning. No one was home. I quickly packed my luggage. Standing in the middle of the bedroom, I looked at the place where I had lived for seven years. It would be a lie to say I felt no attachment. But more than that, I felt relief. I called her one last time. It rang for a long time before she picked up, and Liam’s voice was in the background, crying out in pain. Her voice was full of impatience. “Ethan? What do you want now? Liam is still hurting!” I was silent for two seconds. “Nothing.” “Ridiculous.” She hung up. I listened to the busy tone and put down my phone. I walked to the study and opened the locked drawer. Ninety-eight “portraits” were stacked in chronological order. The one on top was the smiley face she had drawn with lipstick on a napkin three months ago. I put them into a document envelope. Then I took out the divorce agreement, signed my name, and placed it on the desk in the study. I did not leave a note. The day the hundredth painting arrived would be the day the agreement officially took effect. I dragged my suitcase out and checked into a hotel near the airport. That night was very quiet. She sent no messages and made no calls. The hundredth painting did not come either. That was fine too.

The next day, I boarded the plane and turned off my phone. As the plane shot into the clouds, something in my heart that had been pressed down for seven years collapsed with a roar. After I passed through customs, a woman in a sharp suit was waiting with a sign. “Mr. Cole, welcome. I’m Olivia Reed, your special assistant.” She took my carry-on and spoke as we walked. “The car is waiting. You have a video conference in one hour, an inspection of the tech park this afternoon, and a welcome dinner tonight.” Her professionalism and efficiency reminded me of myself seven years ago. “I didn’t expect you to be so young.” After we got into the car, she looked at me through the rearview mirror. “From your file, I thought you’d be more serious.” I smiled faintly. The car drove onto the highway. The moment my phone was turned on, it vibrated dozens of times in a row, all missed calls and messages from Vivian. I did not read them and deleted them directly. Olivia looked at me through the rearview mirror. “Do you need to handle personal matters first?” “No,” I said. “They’re not important.” My phone rang again. I picked up. “Ethan! Are you insane?! Where did you go?! Come back right now!” Vivian’s voice was shrill with rage. I said calmly, “Ms. Blake, there is nothing left to say between us.” “Nothing left to say?! You are my husband! Get back here right now!” “We haven’t reached one hundred paintings yet.” My tone had no fluctuation. “When your hundredth ‘portrait’ is delivered, the divorce agreement will officially take effect. Before that, legally, maybe I still am. But in reality, we’re even.” “Ethan, you—!” I hung up and blocked her. Olivia spoke. “Mr. Cole, your residence is a lakeside penthouse. I think you’ll like it.” I looked out the window as the setting sun dyed the clouds gold and red. “Good,” I said.

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Before the engagement dinner began, I was in the lounge tidying myself up when my fiancée’s assistant, Vincent, suddenly handed me a marriage agreement. Article One: Without Vincent’s written permission, the man may not have any physical contact with the woman. Article Two: The man and woman must live in separate rooms, and all daily communication must be relayed through Vincent. Article Three: The man must remain respectful toward Vincent on all occasions. ….. After reading more than a hundred clauses in the agreement, I forced down my anger and dialed my fiancée’s number. “Miss Young, could you explain Article Ninety-Eight to me?” “What does it mean that I, as your husband, must acknowledge that your relationship with Mr. Vincent takes priority?” 0 Today’s engagement dinner was actually an arranged marriage set up by the elders in our families. Before today, I had never even met the bride. All I knew was that her family was prominent, and that she was a wealthy heiress well known in New York society. But I never expected that the so-called family rules would be this absurd. “You’re nothing but insurance and decoration our family brought in, and Vincent is the one I truly trust, so follow the agreement exactly as it is written, understood?” Over the phone, my fiancée’s tone was full of contempt. I took a deep breath, and my voice left no room for argument. “Sorry, Miss Young, but I will not sign this marriage agreement.” The second I finished speaking, my fiancée’s furious roar came from the other end of the call. “Carter, how dare you talk to me like that?” “It is the greatest luck of your life that I would get engaged to you, and you still dare defy me?” I froze on the spot. Was this really the upbringing of a wealthy heiress? She was completely different from the gentle and refined image my grandfather had described. I was just about to continue arguing with her when the line on the other end had already gone dead. Seeing what happened, Vincent, who was standing beside me, looked at me with disdain and let out a cold laugh. “Mr. Carter, I suggest you obediently sign the agreement. I understand Miss Mandy’s thoughts better than anyone. You are an outsider, so know your place, and your life will be a little easier.” Seeing that I was young and dressed very low-key, he did not take me seriously at all, and his tone carried the superiority of a master. “Whoever wants to sign such a dignity-stripping agreement can sign it, but I definitely will not!” Although the Kosa family was low-key, we were definitely not soft targets anyone could push around. So what if she was a New York socialite? At worst, I would refuse to acknowledge this engagement today! With that, I set down my wine glass and turned to leave, only to be stopped by Vincent beside me. “The dinner is about to begin, so where exactly do you think you are going, Mr. Carter?” I clenched my fists without realizing it and stared hard at him. “My legs are on my own body, so I can go wherever I want, and what does that have to do with you?” Faced with my warning, Vincent not only failed to restrain himself, but became even more reckless as he stepped closer, lowered his voice, and spoke in a tone full of provocation. “Mr. Carter, I advise you to stay put. When it comes to Miss Mandy’s affairs, I have always had the final say. If you sign it, everyone saves face. If you do not… I am afraid you may not even have a place to stand in New York in the future.” He shoved me hard, his eyes filled with threat. Ever since I came of age and began taking part in family affairs, I had trained day and night with private instructors, and the pride carved into my bones did not allow me to compromise. Seeing him act so arrogant, the anger in my heart kept rising. “And what if I insist on leaving?” As soon as I said that, the servers and several early guests in the lounge immediately began murmuring. “Oh my God, is this guy crazy? Mr. Vincent is Miss Mandy’s most trusted person, so if he offends him, how can his life in the Young family be easy?” “He should just sign it. It is just a formality anyway. Who doesn’t know about Mr. Vincent and the young lady’s relationship? Why ask for trouble?” “Exactly. Just pretend not to know and take the benefits from the Young family. Can dignity put food on the table?” As the surrounding discussion grew louder and louder, Vincent’s expression became even smugger, as if he were the real master here. “Did you hear that? Smart people know what to do. A puppet like you, with nothing but an empty title, should be grateful that we are still leaving you some dignity, and yet you still dream of talking about pride?” Faced with everyone’s mockery, I did not care at all, and even found it a little funny. In New York, the Young family could indeed be called rich, with endless wealth to their name. But if they wanted to compare foundations with the Kosa family, that would only be a fight beyond their means. No matter how much money they had, before true power and the rules of the game, it was only a string of cold numbers. “Vincent, I will warn you one last time, move.” Perhaps he was frightened by the cold aura that suddenly burst from me, because Vincent paused for a moment, but then he showed an even more contemptuous smile. “Fine, fine, fine, kid, you… you actually dare talk to me like this. I… I will invite the young lady here right now, and we will see how long you can keep acting arrogant!” I spread my hands with an indifferent attitude. “Be my guest.” 0

Before long, the door of the lounge was pushed open. A tall young woman walked in, surrounded by a group of bodyguards, and Vincent immediately put on an attentive expression as he went up to greet her with movements that were natural and familiar. “Mandy, you’re here. This Mr. Carter has a ‘tiny’ issue with the agreement.” “You are Mandy Young, my fiancée?” I carefully looked over the woman in front of me, and I had to admit that she was indeed beautiful. She was nearly five-foot-seven, and her luxurious gown wrapped perfectly around her flawless figure. If I had to find one flaw, it could only be that her gaze toward me was too cold, while when she exchanged glances with Vincent, there was a faint intimacy that was hard to notice. “Miss Young, since this is our first meeting, please allow me to briefly introduce myself.” “My last name is Carter, and my first name is Ash, and I am from the Ko—” “No need!” Before I could finish speaking, Mandy impatiently raised a hand to cut me off while naturally accepting the wine glass Vincent handed her. “I have absolutely no interest in who you are. You only need to remember that once you are in the Young family, you will follow Vincent’s arrangements in everything.” I had wanted to state my background so that she would restrain herself a little, but I never expected this arrogant young lady to refuse to even let me finish speaking. From her eyes and her tacit interactions with Vincent, it was not hard to see that her heart already belonged to someone else, and I was nothing more than an inconvenient symbol in this arranged marriage. “Miss Young, although you and I have never met, and this engagement was our parents’ idea.” “But you will not even let me finish speaking, and isn’t that a little too disrespectful?” As soon as I said that, my fiancée’s expression changed at once, as if she had heard some kind of joke. “Respect?” “Carter, you need to understand your own position. Respect is for useful people, not for a… ‘decoration’ like you.” My fiancée gave me a contemptuous glance and let out a cold snort. “I can tell you clearly that if my father had not insisted on forcing me to get engaged to you, I would not even bother to glance at some random man like you who came out of nowhere!” At the end, she suddenly raised her voice, as if she were saying it for Vincent beside her to hear. “And after you sign the agreement, you may be my husband in name, but in reality, stay away from me. Vincent is enough to worry about my affairs.” I stared hard at her, then swept a glance at Vincent, whose lips held a smile, and my tone carried not a trace of emotion. “Since Miss Young is so unwilling to get engaged to me, why make yourself suffer?” As I spoke, my tone suddenly changed. “Why don’t… we cancel the engagement, which would be good for you, for me, and for your… ‘capable assistant.’” I had wanted to resolve this peacefully, but the self-righteous woman in front of me could not listen at all and instead thought I was mocking her. “You useless loser, stop playing games with me!” “Do you know how many men in New York are lining up to marry me?” Instead of getting angry, I laughed. “Miss Young, I do not care what other people think. I simply feel that since you two are in love, why should I step in and make myself a nuisance?” “As for Mr. Young, I will personally explain everything clearly to him, so you do not need to worry about that.” After several exchanges, the entire lounge immediately erupted into an uproar. “My God, is this guy stupid? He actually offered to call off the engagement? Isn’t he pushing away wealth and glory that were already in his hands?” “Exactly. Miss Young is the goddess in the hearts of so many men in New York, and this idiot has no idea how lucky he is.” “If it were me, I would probably wake up laughing from my dreams if I could get engaged to the Young family’s heiress.” The doubts around me kept coming, but I did not care at all. In families like ours, marriage was never only about matching status, and loyalty and dignity mattered even more. It was obvious that this wealthy heiress, whose relationship with her assistant was murky and ambiguous, was not only not my type, but was also trampling on the dignity of both families. Even now, I still remembered the way Mandy’s father, Michael Young, the CEO of Young Enterprises, had treated my grandfather with deep respect. During a meeting that lasted less than half an hour, sweat had been beading on Michael Young’s forehead the entire time, as if he were afraid of saying a single wrong word. I guessed he still did not know that the protection he had begged so hard for, as well as his family’s dignity, were being trampled underfoot by his daughter and this ill-intentioned assistant. “Carter! I will ask you one last time, are you truly going to break off the engagement with me?” I slowly raised my head and met her eyes, my gaze firmer than ever before. “Without question. I will accept neither this engagement nor this ridiculous agreement.” 0

The scene was terrifyingly quiet. Mandy probably never imagined in her dreams that I would give up so decisively, and her face flushed bright red, mostly from the anger of being unable to save face. Just when she did not know how to end the situation, Vincent beside her gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders and comforted her softly. “Sweetheart, do not be angry because of someone like him. It is perfect if he leaves, because we will never need this eyesore of a cover between us again.” My fiancée leaned into his arms and nodded, but there was still some worry in her eyes. “But Vincent… the invitations have already been sent out, and with so many guests watching, where will I put my face if we suddenly announce that the engagement is canceled? Where will the Young family put its face?” Vincent glanced at me with ill intent, then lowered his head and spoke to Mandy in a gentle but clear voice loud enough for the people around us to hear. “Babe, what is there to be afraid of? As long as you insist on choosing me, Mr. Young will understand in the end. We have been together for so long, and how much have I done for you and for the Young family? How could a fiancé with nothing but an empty title compare to someone as caring, attentive, and capable as me?” He extended a few fingers, not to show any money trail, but as a gesture of comfort and promise. “Besides, haven’t I been the one helping your father handle several of the Young family’s recent major deals? What I can give the Young family is far more than this kid ever could. In the future, we can be together openly, and the Young family will be better off too.” Mandy lifted her head and looked at Vincent, her eyes showing dependence and love. “You’re right… Vincent, you are still the one who understands me. Then you… are you really willing to stay with me forever and help my dad manage the family business?” Vincent looked at her affectionately and vowed with certainty. “Of course! Everything I have is yours. My heart and my body have belonged to you for a long time. Your family business is naturally our future too.” Seeing this scene in front of me, I finally understood completely. It turned out that this absurd agreement was a shackle this man and woman had created in order to completely exclude me and allow Vincent, this so-called “insider,” to permanently control the situation. He wanted not only the woman, but also to use this relationship to gradually control the Young family’s business. It was just a pity for the Young family’s heiress, who was so blinded by love that she had no idea where she was being led. “That is enough.” “Miss Young, although I have already broken off the engagement with you, isn’t this impatient display from you and your ‘capable assistant’ a little too ugly?” As I spoke, I raised a hand and pointed at Vincent, who was holding her tightly. “Right now, I only want to know one thing: which one of you came up with this agreement that treats me as invisible and even requires me to remain respectful toward your assistant?” Based on what I knew of Mandy, although she was arrogant and domineering, her brain might not have been capable of drafting such detailed and controlling clauses. In this, Vincent had “contributed greatly.” However, her expression at this moment just happened to confirm the guess in my heart, because the way she looked at Vincent was full of complete trust and reliance. “What does it matter whose idea it was? This was a joint decision made by me and Vincent! You are an outsider, so what right do you have to question it?” “You need to keep your word. Didn’t you just say you wanted to cancel the engagement? Now you are asking questions left and right, so are you trying to go back on it?” I raised an eyebrow lightly and let out a cold laugh. “Go back on it? You think far too highly of yourselves.” “I just wonder what your father would think, Miss Young, if he knew that his capable assistant was planning how to sideline his future son-in-law and even further control his family business.” Halfway through, I turned my head and looked at Vincent beside her. “Or, Mr. Vincent, does Mr. Young know about this affectionate performance and long-term plan of yours?” For Mr. Young’s sake, I had wanted to wake up this foolish woman, but who knew she would not appreciate it at all and would instead act like a cat whose tail had been stepped on? “Carter, I am warning you, stop trying to drive a wedge between us!” “Vincent is loyal to me and to our Young family! Weren’t you the one who swore you wanted to cut ties with me just now? What, now that you see Vincent treating me well, you are jealous? Regretful?” After hearing those words from her, the last shred of pity in my heart disappeared. The Young family had at least been a powerful force in the business world for so many years, so how had they produced such an idiot who was being played in the palm of her lover’s hand? “Kid, did you hear that? You are not welcome here, and Mandy does not need a fiancé like you. If you know what is good for you, hurry up and get lost!” Vincent stared at me with a provocative expression, his arm tightening around Mandy as he declared his ownership. I merely smiled faintly, my gaze sweeping toward the door. “It is still uncertain who should get lost.” “But before I invite the two of you out of my sight, I would like to see what you, Vincent… actually amount to without the status of the Young family’s future son-in-law.” As soon as I finished speaking, the door to the lounge was pushed open, and it was not someone Vincent had arranged, but Michael Young’s butler, who glanced inside nervously before bowing and stepping aside. Michael Young himself was standing at the door with a livid face. 0

“Sir!” The butler reminded him in a low voice. Michael Young ignored everyone else, his gaze first pausing briefly on me as he nodded slightly in acknowledgment, then locking fiercely onto Vincent, who was still holding his daughter, with fire almost shooting from his eyes. When Vincent saw Michael Young, he instinctively released the arm wrapped around Mandy, but there was not much fear on his face, and instead, he carried a hidden, almost provocative smugness as he nodded at Michael Young. “Mr. Young, you’re here. Perfect timing, Miss Mandy and Mr. Carter have a small misunderstanding between them, and we need you to make the decision.” Michael Young jogged all the way over to me, then bowed slightly. “I am sorry, Mr. Carter, I am late. What… is going on here?” I raised my hand in a slight supporting gesture, my tone calm. “Mr. Young, you came at just the right time. Half an hour ago, I just broke off the engagement with your daughter. The reason is that she and your assistant, Mr. Vincent, jointly drafted a ‘marriage agreement,’ and I find it unacceptable.” Before Michael Young could even digest those words, Mandy beside him violently shook off Vincent’s hand as he tried to comfort her and shrieked. “Dad! Don’t listen to his nonsense! This kid doesn’t know what’s good for him, and I asked him to sign the agreement for everyone’s sake, but he actually dared call off the engagement with me! He even slandered Vincent!” I looked up at her and spoke coldly. “Miss Young, slander? Do I need to read Article Ninety-Eight aloud in front of Mr. Young? ‘The husband must acknowledge that the wife’s relationship with Mr. Vincent takes priority’—is this the kind of clause a ‘loyal’ assistant should write in, or is it a power claim from an ambitious lover?” Michael Young’s face instantly turned deathly pale, and he suddenly turned to look at Vincent, his voice trembling with anger. “Vincent! That agreement… you drafted it? And this clause… you and my daughter…” Vincent stepped forward and actually managed to remain calm. “Mr. Young, please listen to my explanation. This agreement… is for Miss Mandy’s good, and also for the stability of the Young family. Mr. Carter is an outsider after all, so setting some rules in advance avoids trouble later. Miss Mandy and I… we truly love each other. I can take better care of her, and I can also better assist you in managing the Young family.” “Truly love each other? Assist me?” Michael Young shook all over with rage. “So the two of you joined hands to draft this humiliating agreement and drive away the honored guest I worked so hard to invite? Vincent, I treated you well, and you actually dared… actually dared covet my daughter and interfere in the Young family’s marriage arrangements!” Seeing this, Mandy hurriedly stood in front of Vincent to protect him. “Dad! Why are you yelling at Vincent! I asked him to draft it! I am the one who likes him! What is so good about that Carter guy? He is some poor kid from who knows where, and in what way is he more thoughtful or capable than Vincent?” “You… shut up!” Michael Young pointed at his daughter, his fingers trembling. “You idiot! Do you know who he is?!” “I don’t care who he is!” Mandy stiffened her neck. “In any case, I want to be with Vincent! This engagement must be canceled today!” Vincent also seized the chance to put on a helpless yet affectionate expression. “Mr. Young, I know my status is low and that I am not worthy of Miss Mandy. But my feelings for Mandy are real, and my loyalty to the Young family is also real. As long as you agree, I will definitely…” “Enough!” I finally spoke and interrupted his clumsy performance. I looked at Michael Young, who was so angry he was about to faint, and my tone was icy. “Mr. Young, it seems your daughter and your capable assistant have already made a ‘thorough’ plan for your family business and future. Since that is the case, I will not disturb you further. The engagement is canceled, and from now on, our two families are even.” With that, I turned to leave. “Mr. Carter! Please wait!” Michael Young hurriedly shouted, cold sweat pouring down his forehead. He knew better than anyone what offending the Kosa family meant. That was not business damage. That was destruction. “Wait? What else is there to say?” I stopped, but did not turn back. “Does Mr. Young also think that agreement was fair and reasonable? Or do you also think your assistant is more suited than me to become your son-in-law and take charge of your future family business?” “No! That is not it! Mr. Carter, this is all a misunderstanding! My daughter is ignorant and was deceived by a villain!” Michael Young was so anxious that his voice changed pitch, and he glared fiercely at Vincent. “You traitor! Get out! From this moment on, you are fired! Get out of the Young family!” The calm on Vincent’s face finally cracked, and he had not expected Michael Young to show him so little mercy. But he still forced himself to hold on, because he knew he controlled many of the Young family’s internal affairs and secrets, and that was his final bargaining chip. “Mr. Young, you cannot do this! I have made great contributions to the Young family! I know a lot about the Young family’s…” He did not finish his sentence, but the threat in his words was already obvious. Mandy also screamed. “Dad! You cannot drive Vincent away! Without him, there are many deals you cannot handle! If you drive him away, I will leave with him!” The scene completely spun out of control, and an ugly family farce was displayed vividly in front of all the guests.

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My Husband and Son Took His First Love to the Amusement Park Behind My Back, So I Got Divorced On our wedding anniversary, I saw my husband’s chat history pop up on the computer. His first love, Claire Bennett, sent him a message. “To celebrate Noah’s improvement on his exam, let’s go to the theme park this Sunday.” My husband replied right away, “Sure, I’ll book the tickets.” Then came a voice message. I tapped it open and heard my son’s voice, bright with excitement. “Great! Just the three of us are going, and we’re not inviting Mom!” “She’s always so mean, and she even fought Claire over an ice cream.” I did not argue. I only silently printed out the divorce papers. Then I gave up custody of my son. 0 Just then, my husband called me. “Sophie, Noah and I have plans on Sunday, so we won’t be home during the day.” “Make your own arrangements.” Before I could react, he hung up, completely forgetting that today was our wedding anniversary. I walked into the living room. Looking at the cups that belonged to my son and Claire on the coffee table, I suddenly froze. It turned out that everything had left traces. I had only been lying to myself! Ever since Claire Bennett returned home after a breakup and my husband brought her to stay with us, I had become the extra person in this family. Yesterday, I only casually picked up the last ice cream from the fridge and ate it. Claire said she wanted ice cream, and the whole family asked me to give it to her. I split the ice cream into two portions, half for each of us. But what I got in return was my husband’s criticism. “Half an ice cream isn’t enough to satisfy anyone!” As he spoke, he threw the half of the ice cream in Claire’s hand into the trash can. He took her hand and walked out. “Come on, Claire! I’ll take you to buy some!” And my son also pouted. “Can’t you let Claire have it for once? It wasn’t easy for her to come stay at our house.” I froze. I had always thought they only acted that way because Claire was a guest who was temporarily staying in our home. But I was wrong! I was the outsider in this family! I picked up the cups one by one and put them away. In their room, the soft bed looked incredibly warm and cozy. I glanced at my sofa bed in the living room, and my heart ached. Claire Bennett was my husband’s first love from college, and after she had just ended a relationship and returned home, he said she wanted to stay with us for a few days to clear her head. I agreed, because everyone has hard times. On the second morning after Claire came to our home, she had dark circles all over her face. My husband asked her with concern if she had not slept well. She tactfully said she used to sleep alone and was not used to it. So I was asked to move into the living room. Claire had just broken up, and I sympathized with her unstable emotions. Besides, she said she was used to sleeping alone, and since we were friends, I thought it was no big deal to make her more comfortable. At the same time, I was afraid of making things hard for my husband, so I willingly agreed. But my thoughtfulness only made them go further and further! Because I was thoughtful, I had to give in to her in everything! Because I was thoughtful, my husband only helped Claire and my son with their laundry, while I had to wash my own! Because I was thoughtful, I had to take on all the housework, while Claire and my son only needed to enjoy themselves! In the past, although Noah was afraid of me supervising his studies, he would still be the first to call out, “Mom, I’m home,” when he came back from school. Ever since Claire came, he looked for Claire first when he got home, and he no longer did his homework properly. She said, “A child’s happiness matters most,” and my husband also thought that made sense. I objected before, but all I got was my husband’s eye roll and my son’s impatience. Why did everything change as soon as she came? Thinking of this, my heart ached. I sat on the sofa and scrolled through my phone in boredom. Claire Bennett updated a social media page with her alternate account. In the photo, my husband, my son, and Claire were smiling brightly. The scene looked very warm. The caption said: “This ‘husband’ came late, but it still came.” Thank you, James, for giving me a complete family. I stared at that sentence for a long time. She knew what she was saying. She also knew how others would see it. She did not care. The comments from users below said: “Congratulations, you finally waited for the right person.” “Congratulations, blogger, wishing you happiness forever.” I casually liked that social media post. And I commented, “Wishing your family happiness forever.” Soon, that social media post disappeared. She probably forgot that she had used my phone to follow her account before, and then forgot to unfollow herself later. Right after that, she called me. “Sophie, don’t take that social media post seriously, I was just posting for fun.” 0

I laughed. She had truly gotten better at acting one way in front of people and another behind their backs. In the past, she acted like a good girl in front of my husband. But behind his back, she relied on being his first love and tried to step all over me. I endured it. Later, she could easily “snatch” things from my hands, and my husband would still say I was being petty. I tried to explain, but all I got in return was their blame. Seeing that I did not reply for a long time, her voice on the other end of the phone took on a sobbing tone. “Sophie, you’re angry, aren’t you?” “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault, I just… I just wanted to be loved too much…” As she spoke, she was already crying so hard that she could not speak. Before I could react, my son’s shout came from the other end of the phone. My husband had turned on speakerphone. “Sophie Miller, that’s enough! It was just one social media post, so why are you always so narrow-minded?” He called me by my full name. He no longer called me Mom. “You made Claire cry, so hurry up and apologize to her!” My heart sank at once. I clearly had not done anything, but now I needed to apologize to her. I sneered and said, “Apologize? Why should I? What did I do wrong?” My son said angrily on the other end. “You’re asking what you did wrong? Making Claire unhappy means going against me!” “I don’t care, apologize right now!” My husband’s voice also came from the other end of the phone. “Noah, don’t talk to Sophie like that, she’s your mother!” Then he turned to the phone and said, “Sophie, Noah is still young, so don’t take it seriously.” “And we only came out to have some fun today, so don’t mind it.” Listening to my husband’s words, my heart ached. I said coldly, “You don’t have to explain, because you are the real family anyway.” Those words completely angered my husband. The voice on the other end of the phone suddenly rose. “Sophie, how can you say that?” “Isn’t it just that we went to the theme park without you? Do you really have to make such a huge deal out of it?” “If you want to go have fun, I’ll send you two hundred dollars and let you have all the fun you want!” As he spoke, my phone showed a payment notification for two hundred dollars. Two hundred dollars. That was the price he put on my emotional value. “Okay, I sent you the money, so this matter is over.” After saying that, he hung up directly. I gave a cold laugh. I did not want family like this, or a marriage like this! I opened my contacts and found a lawyer’s contact information. “Attorney Lewis, help me draft a divorce agreement. I give up all property and only want freedom.” I called Ethan Clark. “Can I still join that project you mentioned before?” Ethan Clark replied immediately on the other end of the phone, “Of course you can!” “Sophie, you’re finally willing to join my team!” “When can you come over? I’ll book your plane ticket.” Without any hesitation, I replied, “Tomorrow, the sooner the better.” After hanging up, my heart was unusually calm. Ethan Clark had invited me to join his team several times, but I had always refused because it was too far from home. At that time, my life goal was to stay by my family’s side. But now, I had let go! 0

I sent the divorce agreement out by express delivery the next day. The package arrived at his company that very afternoon. I did not call, and I did not send a message. I only slipped a note into the documents. “I don’t want anything, only a divorce. Sign it.” He did not reply to me. When the three of them came home, it was already evening. They had spent the whole day playing, and the air still carried the heat from outside. At that moment, I was packing my things. When he saw this scene, my husband’s expression changed. He rushed up, snatched the clothes from my hands, and threw them onto the floor. “Sophie Miller, what are you doing? Are you planning to run away from home?” “Didn’t I already send you money? Why are you still making trouble?” I silently picked up the clothes and stared hard at him. “Making trouble? Who exactly is making trouble?” “I saw the chat records, and have you ever treated me like family?” My husband’s face instantly turned pale. “Sophie, listen to me…” I sneered. “No need, I don’t care about this kind of family anymore.” Claire Bennett came forward crying. “Sophie, did you see my message?” “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault.” “If I hadn’t come to this home, I wouldn’t have caused you so much trouble.” As she spoke, she came forward and grabbed my arm. “Sophie, can you please stop being angry with me?” “If someone has to leave, it should be me, because you were always part of this family.” I shook off her arm. “Stop putting on an act here! I’m not falling for this!” I did not use much strength, but Claire Bennett swayed and crashed toward the corner of the table. Noah Miller, who was beside her, caught her. He shielded Claire Bennett behind him and shoved me hard. Before I could react, I fell heavily to the ground. A dull thud came from my knee, and the pain made tears fall. But there was not the slightest guilt on his face. Instead, he looked completely justified. “Who told you to attack Claire first? You deserved it!” A trace of hesitation flashed across my husband’s face. He was just about to come help me up when he was drawn away by Claire Bennett’s sobs. “James, maybe I should just leave. With me here, I only make everyone unhappy.” My husband could no longer care about anything else and pulled Claire Bennett into his arms. He held her right in front of me. Right in front of our son. I stood there, feeling like a fool—he was not even bothering to hide it anymore. “Silly girl, how could I possibly let you leave? You only have me now.” As he spoke, he turned to look at me, his eyes full of disappointment. “Sophie, you went too far this time!” “I’m very disappointed in you!” Disappointed? A bitter smile appeared at the corner of my mouth. He wanted me to give in to Claire Bennett in everything, and I did it. He wanted me to be considerate and understand him, and I did that too. Then what exactly was he disappointed about? Was he disappointed that I could no longer be played like a fool by Claire Bennett as always and still keep silent? Or was he disappointed that after discovering they had never treated me like family, I refused to keep pretending to be stupid? But I was a person! I had dignity too! My husband came out to smooth things over again. “Sophie, I’m really angry this time!” “Hurry up and apologize to Claire, and this matter will be over.” An apology again! From beginning to end, I was always the one who had to apologize! This time, I refused! I stubbornly lifted my head to look at them and said each word clearly. “I will not apologize!” There was a ruthlessness in Noah Miller’s eyes that I had never seen before. That was not a look a child should have. I never expected Noah Miller to rush over and kick me. “Then I’ll see whether your mouth is tougher or I am!” A bloody taste instantly surged into my mouth, and I spat out a mouthful of blood. But Noah Miller did not care about any of that and kept shouting loudly. “Sophie Miller, don’t think you can fool me!” “I’m telling you, if you don’t admit your mistake to Claire, I won’t let you leave!” As he spoke, he lifted his foot again. My husband stopped him. “Noah, don’t do this, she’s your mother!” Noah Miller immediately retorted, “She is not my mother!” “All she does every day is control my studying and stop me from watching TV!” “Claire never yells at me, and she gives me whatever I want!” “My mom is only Claire!” And at this time, my husband also spoke. “Sophie, don’t blame me for taking Claire’s side.” “Look at what you’ve become now! I remember you used to be very reasonable.” As he spoke, he pulled Claire Bennett into the room. Out of the corner of my eye, Claire Bennett looked at me with smugness all over her face. It was as if she were saying, “See? You will always be defeated by me!” “Everything you have, including your family, is all mine!” And Noah Miller seemed to have received permission, because he walked toward me again. Seeing that I had already said that, my husband did not interrupt anymore and returned to his room. Noah Miller stood in front of me. “Sophie Miller, are you going to apologize or not?” “If you don’t apologize, I won’t let you get up!” This was the first time I had seen this side of him, and he suddenly felt very unfamiliar. In the past, although he was mischievous, he had never treated me this way. Every time I was sick, he would secretly pour water for me. But now, he looked at me as if he were looking at an enemy. It was as if he wished I would disappear from this home. But the conflict between us had never reached this point! Claire Bennett’s methods were truly brilliant! First my husband, then my son! One by one, they were willing to hurt me for her. I laughed miserably. “Even if you beat me to death today, I still won’t apologize!” Noah Miller punched me again and again. I did not make a sound. Compared with the pain in my heart, this bit of pain was not worth mentioning at all. In the end, it was still my husband who came out to stop him. “Stop hitting her, it won’t be good if someone dies.” And Noah Miller also seemed to find it boring, so he stopped. The entire home instantly fell silent. I lay on the cold floor, recalling everything from the past. I did not know how much time had passed before I heard my husband speaking softly in the room. “Did we go too far today?” “No! Sophie went too far today. She deserves a lesson.” “At worst, we can take her out for something good to eat tomorrow to make it up to her.” “Don’t you know her? She values relationships the most.” I laughed. So it was because I valued relationships that they could trample on my dignity however they wanted! Just then, my phone rang. Ethan Clark sent me the flight information. It was a flight early tomorrow morning. I endured the pain and got up, took my driver’s license, and left the house directly. The moment I closed the door, I actually felt incredibly light. I did not want this home anymore. I did not want this marriage anymore either. 0

I forced myself to walk to the roadside and called a car. “To the airport.” The driver saw that my face was pale and that I had injuries. He asked if I wanted to call the police. I shook my head and gave him the destination. Outside the car window, the streetlights swept backward one by one. They looked so much like the way my mother used to hold my hand and count streetlights with me when I was little. Back then, she always said, “Sophie is the best girl, and Mommy loves you the most.” How ridiculous! When I arrived at the airport, there were still more than four hours before boarding. I found a seat in a corner and sat down. The injury on my knee was still aching faintly. I lifted my pant leg and saw a large patch of purple bruising, swollen very high. I went to the bathroom and rinsed it with cold water. The pain made me suck in a sharp breath. The person in the mirror had red eyes, and there were dried bloodstains at the corner of her mouth. I wiped hard, but the more I wiped, the redder it became. In the end, I simply stopped wiping and just looked at myself like that. Sophie Miller, remember this. From now on, no one is allowed to make you cry again. I went to the pharmacy and bought iodine and bandages, then treated the wound simply. After finishing all this, my heart became calm instead. When the boarding announcement sounded, the sky had just begun to brighten. I turned off my phone and walked into the boarding gate. The moment the plane rushed into the clouds, sunlight poured in through the window and made me narrow my eyes. Below the clouds was a gray sky, and above them was dazzling sunshine. It turned out that as long as you flew high enough, cloudy days would also become sunny. More than three hours later, the plane landed. Ethan Clark was waiting for me at the exit, and he froze the moment he saw me. “Sophie, your face…” I smiled. “It’s nothing, I bumped into something by accident.” “Let’s talk about the project in detail.” He looked at me for several seconds and did not ask any more questions. He took my hand and said, “Come on, I’ll take you to eat first.” Ethan Clark was a very perceptive person. He knew that if I did not want to talk, he should not ask. He booked a hotel for me and took me to have a hot meal. After we finished eating, he sent me the project materials. He said, “Rest for a day first, and start working tomorrow.” I shook my head. “No need to rest, I can work now!” He stared at me for a long time and sighed. “Fine, then come with me to the company this afternoon.” The company was in the city center. It was not big, but it had everything it needed. Ethan Clark worked in online retail. After two years of starting his business, his team already had more than a dozen people. He had always wanted to bring me in, saying I was the most business-minded person he had ever met. Before, I could not bear to leave my family, so I refused again and again. Now that I thought about it, what exactly was I unwilling to leave? Was it the home where the whole family went out to have fun and only left me out? Or was it the family who treated me like an outsider?

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The night before the wedding, at the bachelor party, my fiancé Don Dominic was challenged to a round of truth or dare. “Dominic, tell us the proudest thing you’ve ever done.” He answered without hesitation: “Spoiling the woman I love until she’s got temper.” Our friends exchanged glances, teasing him to tone down the lovesick act. Even my best friend Serena couldn’t resist a jab. “You’re so lucky, Isabella. Having a man like that wrapped around your finger—you’d better hold on tight.” My face burned red amid the catcalls, and I gave Dominic a playful punch to the chest. What I didn’t notice was that after he said those words, his gaze had locked onto Serena and never left. Not until Serena lost a dare. The penalty: pick anyone in the room and say, “Honey, I’m carrying your baby.” I was already reaching for my phone, ready to record her flustered reaction. But Dominic, who’d been slumped over drunk just seconds ago, went stone-cold sober in an instant. He pulled Serena into his arms, eyes rimming red. “Baby, you’re finally ready to admit it?” I stood frozen. My phone slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor. Serena struggled violently. “Dominic, you’re drunk!” He only held tighter, voice thick with hurt. “I’m not drunk. You’re my wife, Ser—” I could feel it, the next syllable was about to land. But Serena slapped him across the face without a second’s hesitation, cutting the name short. Dominic clutched his reddening cheek. Whether sober or not, he lurched toward the trash can and vomited. Marco smoothed things over with a laugh. “Bella, he’s just too happy—drank way more than he should’ve. You girls keep chatting. I’ll get him cleaned up.” Serena watched my face anxiously, then cursed under her breath. “Two glasses of bourbon and he’s pawing at me like a lunatic. If your wedding weren’t two days out, I’d have broken that hand off at the wrist.” Normally I’d have laughed and played peacemaker, the way I always did when they bickered. But tonight, something in me had gone quiet. Maybe it was those two sentences. Or maybe it was the folded documents that had slipped from Dominic’s jacket pocket when he stood—the ones I’d picked up before anyone else could see. City Clerk’s Office. I hadn’t had time to read the details before two signatures at the bottom caught my eye. One was Dominic Valenti. The other was Serena Hayes. I clutched the papers, my fingertips like ice. “He probably just mistook you for me—he was hammered. Once he sobers up, I’ll make him apologize.” Serena visibly relaxed, waving it off. “Forget it. I’ll let it slide this once. But if he treats you badly after the wedding, I’m settling old scores and new ones together.” After she left, I excused myself under the pretense of checking on Dominic. I needed a quiet corner to open those documents. At the end of the corridor stood a man. Dark suit. Silver-gray cufflinks. His features bore a passing resemblance to Dominic’s, but colder, more contained. His gaze fell to the strand of old beads around my wrist—and stayed there a long time. Rosa had worn that bracelet as far back as I could remember. When her eyes failed, she’d pressed it into my hands and told me never to take it off. As we passed each other, the man murmured: “Stay away from the Valenti family.” I froze. By the time I turned around, he had already disappeared around the corner. Before I could process what he’d said, I heard Dominic’s voice drifting from a side room, talking to one of his men. “Boss, that was way too close tonight. If Serena hadn’t reacted fast, Bella would’ve found out everything.” Dominic lit a cigarette. His tone was lazy, indifferent. “If Serena hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve told her the truth a long time ago.” “But Don, when your mother was paralyzed from the stroke, it was Bella who stayed at her bedside day and night. And back when you were starting out and the Morettis cornered you in that alley, she took a knife for you.” Dominic’s voice didn’t waver. “She debased herself. What was I supposed to do about it?” “If she hadn’t schemed her way into my life, I wouldn’t have had to pretend to be broke all those years just to drive her off.” “Still, she’s been loyal long enough, and I’ve gotten used to having her around. I don’t mind giving her a wedding.” “But the marriage license belongs to Serena. Only Serena.” I slid down the wall, legs giving out beneath me, and crumpled to the floor. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, refusing to let a single sound escape. In the dim light of the corridor, I finally read the documents in full. This was not our marriage license—mine and Dominic’s. It was a marriage license signed that very afternoon at City Hall by Dominic Valenti and Serena Hayes. Tucked inside was a Polaroid. In it, Serena leaned against Dominic’s shoulder, smiling like a real bride. I suddenly remembered: Dominic was supposed to meet me at City Hall that afternoon to register our marriage. He’d gone dark instead. I’d stood outside the building in a downpour for two hours. Called him a hundred times. No answer. He’d finally shown up at dusk, apologizing—said he’d been preparing tonight’s party, wanted to surprise me, lost track of time. Now I knew the truth behind his tardiness. He’d been at City Hall registering a marriage with my best friend. I staggered back toward the private room, clutching my phone with its shattered screen. But the instant before I pushed the door open, I caught a glimpse through the crack— There, under the spotlight at the center of the room, Serena and Dominic were locked in a deep, lingering kiss.

The same friends who’d been cheering for me just minutes ago were now raising their glasses in a circle, laughing and toasting the two of them. The banner reading “Dominic’s Last Night of Freedom” had been torn down. In its place hung a new one: “Serena & Dominic.” And the custom balloons printed with my name lay trampled on the floor, smeared with mud and shoe prints, deflated against the tiles. “Boss, after all those years holding back, you’ve finally handed over your virtue!” That was Marco, Dominic’s most trusted lieutenant. He’d told me more than once: “Bella, I envy what you and Don have.” “Boss, your undercover game is on another level. Signing a marriage license without even giving us a heads-up? That’s three penalty drinks, minimum.” That was Luca, a family capo. He’d always said he wanted to find a devoted, capable woman—just like me. “How’d you keep it airtight? That little watchdog of yours had her eyes on everything. One whiff of this and she’d have torn the roof off.” Tony. Dominic’s college roommate. Last year his father needed brain surgery. I was the one who pulled strings to find a top neurosurgeon, fronted twenty thousand dollars, and handled everything. “Exactly. Ten whole years, Boss—having to fake affection with someone he couldn’t stand. Just imagining it makes me feel suffocated for him.” That was Gina, my junior from university. When she’d been fired for getting pregnant, I’d gone with her to a lawyer, fought the wrongful termination suit, and made sure she got her settlement. I stood there, listening to their laughter and congratulations for the happy couple who’d finally found their way to each other. And I felt as though something had been scooped clean out of my chest. I wasn’t the princess who got her happily ever after. I was the villain. The scheming obstacle standing between true love. The stumbling block on their path. A dog. Called when needed, kicked aside when not. Loyal to the end, and never once treated as human. But Dominic, you promised me. Today was supposed to be our day at City Hall. I could endure your humiliation. But Rosa, my blind adoptive mother in the nursing home, she couldn’t wait. Her only wish was to see me settled. To know I’d have someone to lean on for the rest of my life. My phone buzzed. A message from Dominic. Asking where I’d gone. Before I could reply, I heard Serena’s voice from inside the room, pitched low: “You don’t think Isabella figured something out, do you?” Dominic said: “No way. If she knew, she’d already be causing a scene.” “She’s terrible with directions, probably got lost. This place is a maze. If some creep dragged her off, that’d be a problem.” I ducked around a corner, slipped out through the back door, and crouched behind a dumpster. When Dominic found me, he was out of breath, forehead slick with sweat. But the expression on his face was unmistakably irritated. “Where the hell did you wander off to? Phone calls unanswered, texts ignored—do you even know what today is? Could you, for once, stop making my life harder?” Halfway through, he seemed to realize he’d been too harsh. He backpedaled. “That came out wrong. I was just worried. You know how I get.” Serena hurried over too, dripping with false concern. I looked at the jacket draped over her shoulders. Dominic’s jacket. The one I’d ironed with my own hands that morning. I dropped my gaze. When I lifted it again, I’d plastered on my usual silly grin. Same as always, I threw my arms around Dominic’s neck with a bright laugh. “I got lost, silly. You know my sense of direction is hopeless. But I figured you’d come find me, so I just waited like a good girl.” The instant our bodies pressed together, Dominic went rigid. His eyes slid past me reflexively to Serena. I used to think that stiffness meant he was flustered by my sudden affection. I’d feel secretly thrilled for hours. Now I understood. It was guilt. It was caution. It was fear that Serena might be jealous. And I’d been too stupid to see it. But now wasn’t the time to tear off the mask. During the embrace, I slipped the marriage documents back into his coat pocket. Dominic didn’t notice a thing. He took it for clinginess, visibly relieved, and pinched my cheek. “You. Always keeping me on my toes. You must be exhausted—let me take you home.” On the drive back, he said he had a surprise for me. He took me to a bridal boutique.

The saleswoman brought out a gown with a beaming smile. A satin mermaid-cut wedding dress, delicate seed pearls stitched along the waist. Serena sidled over, eyes wide with envy. “Isabella, isn’t this the one you spent forever staring at? I thought this idiot hadn’t been paying attention, but I guess he’s got a shred of sense after all.” Dominic said: “I wasn’t careless before. I just had more important things to handle. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention.” On any other day, I might have wept with gratitude. But now, I simply looked at the white dress. It was beautiful, yes. Beautiful enough that a receipt fluttered out from inside the hem. Same day. Same store. Dominic had purchased another gown. Handmade couture. Ten times the price of mine. He noticed my lack of reaction and assumed I didn’t like it. I shook my head. “It’s not that. I just—suddenly want to see my mom.” “Now?” Dominic hesitated. “But I still need to go drop off—” “I’ll go alone.” I cut him off and called a car to the nursing home. Rosa lived in the long-term care wing. She heard the door open and fumbled upright, her trembling fingers finding my face. “Why are you crying? Did something go wrong at the registration today?” “No, mom. I just missed you.” “My eyes may be gone, child, but my ears work fine. Happy tears and sad tears don’t sound the same. No matter how well you pretend, something always slips through.” I sniffled. “Dominic and I talked it over. Things are hectic with his family right now, so we’re pushing the registration back a bit.” Rosa frowned. “He can afford to wait. The baby in your belly can’t. Are you going to let that child come into the world without a name? Let people point fingers?” The blood drained from my face. My fingers trembled as they pressed against my stomach. Right. There was still the baby. Mine and Dominic’s. I’d planned to tell him the good news after we’d registered. Rosa groped for my wrist, and her fingertips found that strand of old beads. Her hand went rigid. “The Valentis—have any of them seen this?” I blinked. “What?” She was silent a long time. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “This bracelet. Don’t let them see it.” “Mom, why?” Rosa’s face had gone deathly pale. “The Valenti name is not clean.” I assumed her illness was dredging up old memories she’d rather forget, and gently squeezed her hand. “Mom, that’s all in the past.” Just then, my phone rang. HR. From my company. “Ms. Isabella, your access to the Valenti Logistics project has been suspended. Please come in within the next two days for a handover.” I stiffened. “Suspended? On whose authority?” “Mr. Valenti. He indicated that your pregnancy has caused health complications requiring extended medical leave. The project lead was reassigned this afternoon to Serena Hayes.” I gripped the phone. “I never requested medical leave. I never agreed to relinquish the project.” “I’m sorry, but system permissions have already been updated. Mr. Valenti submitted all relevant documents, including your prenatal report.” I curled into a corner of the corridor, ice spreading through my veins. I don’t know how long I sat there before my phone screen lit up. Serena had just posted on Instagram. The photo showed Dominic in profile, a glittering skyline behind him. The caption read: At every crossroads in my life, you’ve been there to see me through. I stared at that photo and suddenly laughed. So that was it. Serena and I worked at the same company, in the same department. My performance had always outpaced hers. Management had told me, finish this project, and the promotion is yours. Dominic had yanked me off the track to make room for her. Only by removing me could she rise. Rosa came shuffling over on her cane, lowered herself beside me, and wrapped her thin arms around me. I buried my face in her shoulder and wept. “Mom, I don’t want this baby anymore.” “Then don’t keep it.” Her voice shook, but it was firm. “As long as a woman is still breathing, she can start over anywhere.” I bit my lip and cried for a long time. “Dominic—I don’t want him either.” Rosa was quiet for a long while. “I wanted you to have someone to lean on. But more than that, I want you to be happy. If he doesn’t make you happy, then let him go.” Slowly, she raised her hand and ran her fingers through my hair, the way she used to when I was small. “My Isabella is so good. You’ll find someone who truly treasures you.” The OB-GYN clinic was in the adjacent building. Rosa sat with me outside the consultation room, her hand clasped around mine—the way she used to hold me crossing the street when I was little. After I’d made the appointment, I told her to go back and rest. While I waited for the nurse to call my number, I spotted Serena at the end of the hallway. She was supporting Rosa by the arm, chatting and laughing. I shot to my feet, blood rushing to my head. How dare she go near my mother? Didn’t she look at Rosa and think of the tuition, the living expenses—scraped together cent by cent over all those years? Didn’t she remember that it was us who took her in, gave her a bed to sleep in? I rushed after them, burst into the ward. It was empty.

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My fiancé Julian’s assistant, Chelsea Vane, had always competed with me for the front passenger seat. But on my wedding day, she didn’t fight me for it. Chelsea pointed at the seat next to the groom. The one in the back. The one that belonged to the bride. “I’ll sit here.” “Sweetie. Didn’t you say you get carsick unless you’re up front?” “It’s your big day.I’ll suck it up for once. I’ll squeeze in next to Julian.” I stood in front of the wedding car in a Vera Wang trumpet gown. “Get her out.” Julian shook his head. Gave me a tired look. “Ella. She’s real giving you space. Are you really going to make a scene over this? Are you getting in or not?” “If you keep this up, don’t bother. Walk yourself over.” He checked his watch. I smiled. “Fine. I’ll walk.” I didn’t hesitate. Turned. Walked toward a car that was right behind the wedding procession. “You said you’d wait for me. Forever. ” “Come marry me,right now.” *** The wedding cars had been parked outside my parents’ house for three hours. Three hours. Chelsea wouldn’t get out of the back seat. Relatives started stepping forward, blocking the car. “Only the bride sits next to the groom. Whose wedding is this, Ella’s or Chelsea’s?” “We’re three hours late. We’re going to be late for the ceremony.Somebody get her out of the car.” My mother stood beside the passenger window, holding out a thick envelope stuffed with cash. “Miss Vane, this is for you. Please take it and get out of the car. Don’t make this any harder for Ella.” Before her hand could reach Chelsea, Julian’s face turned to stone. “Don’t touch her.” The shout froze my mother where she stood. That was the only sentence Julian Ashworth said to my mother the whole morning. The wedding cars had shown up an hour late to begin with. Julian wasn’t answering his phone. Nobody would tell us anything. My father thought there’d been an accident on I-95. He grabbed his old bike out of the garage and rode ten miles down the route we’d mapped, until he flagged the wedding cars down. The wedding car was empty. My father’s bike folds. It would have fit in the trunk. But he rode ten miles back. His jacket was streaked with dust. He stopped in the little grove behind the house and brushed himself off before he walked in the front door. He didn’t want the guests to see. Watching him do that. Something in my chest twisted so hard I couldn’t breathe. Every step of the ceremony my parents had planned got skipped. Julian never got out of the car. His only explanation: “Sorry. Rough night.” But the lipstick stain on his collar was visible from ten feet away. Chelsea pulled three sentences out of the air and poured the whole mess on me. “Ella. You know there’s nothing going on between me and Julian. You’re the one making a scene in front of all these people. That’s on you.” “He handles executives twice his age at negotiating tables. He gives them an out when they lose face. You’re supposed to be his bride and you can’t even do that?” She sat in the back seat wearing the shirt I’d had custom-made for Julian for the wedding. Sea-island cotton. Sewn at Turnbull & Asser on Madison. His initials embroidered over the pocket in French navy. Today Julian was wearing yesterday’s shirt. The one that reeked of bourbon and someone else’s perfume. “Chelsea drank too much last night. Didn’t have anything clean. This was the only clean shirt in the apartment. I gave it to her.” I pressed every feeling in my chest down to say it flat. “Julian. Call the wedding off.” Julian glanced at his Patek. Impatience flickered across his face. “Ella Marsh. I’m begging you. Enough.” “Give me a straight answer. Are you really refusing to get married over a seat?” “Yes.” I cut him off before he could finish. Julian looked at me. Nodded slowly. “Fine. You can have it.” He took Chelsea’s hand, helped her out of the wedding car, escorted her to the sedan behind it, opened the rear door, and settled her into the back seat. “Ella. Both back seats and the passenger seat of the wedding car are yours. Take your pick.”

The relatives read the room. They started making excuses. Filtering off toward their cars, toward the house, anywhere. Ten minutes ago there had been fifty people in the driveway. Now it was just me. My mother. My father. “The venue keeps calling. You got what you wanted. Are we going or not?” Julian rolled the window down. His voice had that edge in it. Daring me. Chelsea already had her phone out, posting to her stories. Riding in the wedding car with Julian today. Comfy seats. Could get used to this. 🤍 She attached a picture of herself in the seat next to him. The comments came in fast. 【OMG finally!! I always said you two were the endgame！】 【Thank GOD it’s not that uptight Marsh girl.Julian deserves better.】 【So happy for you 🥂🥂🥂】 Congratulations poured in like a series of slaps across my face. Julian corrected everyone. Servers. Interns. Board members. Me. He never let a single misstatement stand. But he liked the post. “Ella, want me to sit with you?” My father took my hand. Voice low, careful. Julian and I had been together for seven years. We started dating at Cornell. Everyone I knew knew how much I loved him. His family was old money out of Greenwich. Mine ran a two-bay auto shop in a working-class Rhode Island town. The gap was Grand Canyon wide. After graduation I clawed my way up. I’d downed nine shots of Woodford at a client dinner to close a deal and never blinked. Five years. Five years to make it from admin to Chief of Staff to the CEO. Standing at his right hand. He’d sworn up and down he kept work and personal life separate. Then Chelsea walked in and took the exact position I’d bled five years to earn. Julian and I had our first real fight the day Chelsea Vane was hired. We didn’t speak for two weeks. It ended without resolution. My father found out and refused to bless the engagement. I didn’t come home for two Christmases. After that, my father treated the subject of Julian like unexploded ordnance. Last night, packing my things, my father, who has never once bent for anyone, pulled me aside before he turned the light off. “Whatever you decide from here on out, kiddo, your dad supports you. Just don’t stop coming home.” But now. Dad. I don’t want to marry him. I pulled the veil off my head and dropped it on the pavement. “Julian. Take your people and go. I’m not marrying you.” Julian’s face darkened as he stepped out of the sedan. “Ella Marsh. Playing hard-to-get doesn’t work on me. Think carefully before you say the next thing.” “You’ve been with me seven years. The wedding is half-done. You walk now, you’re used goods, Ella. Who’s going to take you?” He said it in front of my parents. Didn’t blink. The sky had gone dark. A fine drizzle started. Chelsea saw Julian get out. She followed, slipping out of the car behind him. “Ella. Sweetheart. This is just because you think Julian and I are too close, right?” “If you’ll just get through the ceremony today, give Julian his moment, I promise. I’ll turn in my resignation tomorrow. I’ll terminate the pregnancy. I’ll leave.”

A baby. The word passed through me like a live current. Chelsea curled into Julian’s chest like a stray kitten. Her palm settled on her stomach. She hit the word pregnancy deliberately. “When.” I forced it out through my teeth. The white satin glove on my hand was crushed in my own grip. Julian’s face was dark. “Don’t listen to her. Get in the car. If you don’t want her around, I’ll send her away tomorrow.” My father stepped in front of me. His voice was iron. “My daughter gave you seven years of her life. You spent them running around with other women. You think that’s decent?” He only moved his foot half a step forward. Julian’s arm shot out to shield Chelsea’s stomach. Pulled her against him. I laughed. “Julian. You lie like a teenager.” “Send her away where? To the maternity suite at the Four Seasons in Boston?” Julian went still. Last month I’d seen a reservation confirmation on his phone. Four Seasons Boston. Booked for the day after our wedding. Special note attached to the booking: prenatal-suitable amenities requested. I’d thought it was for our honeymoon. I’d started prenatals a month early. Dropped a Tokyo deal I’d spent half a year closing. Cut caffeine. Cut wine. I’d been prepping my body for a child. I hadn’t understood, until this moment, that the room was already occupied. My eyes moved down to Chelsea’s stomach. She was showing. “What. Can’t handle it? Just because I’ve got his baby?” “What if I told you Julian signed everything over to me before he proposed to you? Every share. Every asset. In our baby’s name.” Chelsea’s voice pushed harder with every sentence. The provocation in her eyes tipped over into open contempt. My father’s face went white with rage. “You have no shame. You’re not going to hurt my daughter. Tomorrow I’m parking myself outside your college with a sign that says you seduced a married man. ” “I don’t have much left.But I’ve got enough for that.” My father barely finished the sentence. Chelsea’s body pitched backward. “Julian. My baby. Something’s wrong.” The rain came down harder. From drizzle to full downpour. Julian was across the driveway in a second. He caught her against his chest. “Ella Marsh. Get your father’s mouth under control. Apologize. To Chelsea. Right now. One more word out of him and I swear.” “If anything happens to Chelsea, how do I face her father??” I looked up. Met his eyes. “Whose father, Julian?” “Chelsea’s. He’s practically my father-in-law.” “Ella. Stop playing word games. Last time. Apologize. Get in the car.” The sentences from him. Like the rain. They put out every last ember of expectation I’d had for seven years. For this wedding, my parents had put together a $40,000 gift for Julian. Cash. The gap between our families was real. My parents had scraped for half their lives to pull that money together. Just to give Julian respect. Just so nobody could say he’d married beneath him. And now Julian was calling a stranger’s father Dad. I clenched both fists. Didn’t move. “And if I say no?” Julian’s brow knit at the center. “Fine.” “Everyone out. Tear that house down. Tear it down until Chelsea feels better. Call it her wedding gift.”

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My little sister set off a mortar-style firework next to my right ear the summer I turned eighteen. At my Juilliard live audition three weeks later, I couldn’t hear the accompaniment. The panel marked me failed audition. Three years of practice. One botched audition away from the conservatory I’d built my whole life around. Afterward, my parents put Nina on a plane to Paris. Our brother Julian deleted every trace of her from his phone. Even Sebastian swore he’d never see her again. For seven years, I believed they loved me enough to punish her. Then Nina graduated. And came home. My mother pressed the car keys into my palm. “Go pick up your sister.” I glanced at the reminder on my phone. My senior recital jury was that afternoon. “I can’t. My defense is at three.” The living room fell still. My mother’s eyes filled. “Seven years, Wren. Seven years alone in Paris. Sick alone. Every birthday alone. She didn’t even come home when Grandma was dying. And you still can’t let her go?” My father set down his coffee, a muscle working in his jaw. “She was wrong back then. But you still went to college, didn’t you? You’re about to graduate. So you lost hearing in one ear — you have a future. She lost seven years of home.” Julian, in the doorway, cold and low: “You just missed one school. She lost an entire family.” And Sebastian — Seb, who’d been silent until now. “And me. Seven years. I didn’t see her. Didn’t hold her. Didn’t spend a single birthday with her. Wren, we were supposed to get engaged next spring. Our mothers already picked out the venue.” “Why can’t you give her a way home? Do you need her to die out there before it’s enough?” My world was already missing half its sound. That was the moment the other half went silent, too. That night, I logged into the university portal and changed my post-graduation placement to the city farthest from home. From then on — the daughter they’d been waiting for, the seven-year performance of guilt — none of it had anything to do with me anymore. …… The morning Nina flew in from Paris, my mother knocked on my door before sunrise and set a ring of keys on my desk. “Wren, sweetheart. Air out the south room upstairs. Your sister loves the light.” I looked up slowly. The south room used to be my practice room. Seven years ago, after my right ear went dark for good, they’d draped the piano, the barre, the music stands in white sheets. My mother had held me and cried. “Don’t look, Wren. It’ll only hurt.” I believed her. I thought they locked the door because the sight of it might break me. By noon, the sheets were gone. Sunlight poured across the lacquered Steinway. My mother directed our housekeeper, Marta, herself — white roses on the lid, lily-of-the-valley diffusers on the sill, curtains swapped for the pale pink Nina had loved when she was twelve. I stood in the doorway and understood, finally, that the piano had never been untouchable. It had only been untouchable by me. My father was in the foyer, hanging a banner across the archway. Cream linen, gold script. WELCOME HOME, NINA. Julian came downstairs in a fitted suit, keys already in hand. He was driving to JFK himself. Sebastian had promised, weeks ago, to sit in on my recital jury that afternoon. At 9:43, my phone lit up. 【Nina just landed. She’s fragile. I’m going with your parents.】 I stared at it a long time. 【Okay.】 I didn’t argue. I didn’t ask. I already knew the answer. I went back to my room to grab my defense folder. My mother had asked me the week before to pull an old insurance statement off the family drive for her accountant, and I’d never logged out. When I opened the shared folder to find the file, something else blinked awake at the top of the screen. Nina — Paris. Julian’s account. Still signed in. Still syncing. I meant to close it. My cursor hovered a full minute. Then I clicked. It wasn’t seven years of exile. It was seven years of birthday parties. Ski trips in Chamonix. Christmas mornings in an apartment I’d never seen, a fireplace I didn’t recognize, gifts stacked wall to wall. My mother on FaceTime, dabbing her eyes: “Sweetheart, we’re not abandoning you. Just a little longer, okay?” Nina, red-eyed: “Does she still hate me?” My father, sighing: “Give her time. When she stops hurting so much, we’ll bring you home.” Handwritten Christmas cards from my mother. Seven of them. One a year. Julian’s passport photos, uploaded and dated — every winter, every summer, the same country code stamped in the corner. And at the bottom of the folder — a photograph. Nina in a white recital dress in a Paris concert hall, arms full of roses. Sebastian behind her. Holding her coat. Nina played again tonight. Seb says she was so brave. My fingertips went cold from the tips down. Seven years ago, in a hospital bed, Sebastian had held my hand and promised he’d never see her. He hadn’t stopped seeing her. He’d only stopped letting me know. I sat there a long time before I remembered the hospital. The night after my last scan, the doctor had told my parents I shouldn’t be left alone; the pain spiked without warning, and someone needed to watch for pressure on the nerve. My mother said she’d cried all day. She was too tired. She’d come back in the morning. My father had a meeting. Julian had a school event. Sebastian said something urgent had come up at work — just be a good girl, Wren. I lay in that bed with my right ear packed and roaring, the world split clean down the middle — noise on the left, dead air on the right. I couldn’t sleep. I kept checking my phone. Nobody messaged me. I know now what they were doing. They were on a group video call, singing to Nina. …… That afternoon, at my recital jury, a professor asked me a question from the right side of the room. I answered a beat too late. Someone in the third row laughed under their breath. I steadied my breath and answered again, but my chest had gone tight, as if a hand had closed around my ribs and refused to open. When I stepped down, the family group chat had already lit up. A photograph. My parents, Julian, Sebastian, all crowded around Nina at my piano. White roses behind them. Nina at the keys, tears shining in her lashes. My mother’s caption: Seven years. Our baby’s finally home. I set my phone face down on the desk. They hadn’t punished her for seven years. They’d hidden her — and loved her — for seven years.

I didn’t go home after the jury. I went to the hospital where they’d treated my ear seven years ago. I only meant to request a copy of my audiology records — the placement office needed proof of disability for the paperwork. But the doctor recognized me the moment I walked in. The first thing he said wasn’t hello. “Why did you never come back for the second-stage nerve reconstruction?” I stared at him. “The what?” He frowned and pulled up my old file. The lines scrolled down the screen, one after another. Auditory nerve — not fully necrotic. Surgery within three months. Recovery probability: 70%+. Procedure cost: $180,000. Deposit paid in full. Insurance: will not cover experimental nerve-graft component. Balance to be private-pay. Payer of record: my father. Co-signer on payment and insurance appeal: Sebastian Cole. My chest went hot, then cold. They had been that close to saving me. I scrolled to the next page. Deferral of Procedure — Signed. Date of cancellation: the day before Nina flew to Paris. Reason listed: Family unable to proceed at this time due to overseas conservatory tuition and instrument purchase for younger daughter. Procedure indefinitely postponed. The doctor sighed. “I warned your mother. I told her the recovery window on that kind of nerve damage was very narrow. Once you missed it, we couldn’t guarantee anything.” He looked at me carefully. “She said Nina was in a very fragile state. That she had to go abroad immediately to heal. That they were buying her a new piano so she could start over.” I gripped the printout. My fingers had gone numb. He kept going, gently. “Your mother was crying, Ms. Ashford. She said — she said you’d already lost one ear. But if Nina couldn’t play, her whole life would be over.” I laughed. I don’t know why. It wasn’t that my ear couldn’t have been saved. It was that they had signed it away themselves — pulled my name off the surgical schedule with their own hands. It wasn’t that they couldn’t come up with a hundred and eighty thousand dollars. It was that they had decided the chance of me hearing the world again was worth less than a new piano for Nina. …… When I got home, Nina was sitting in the living room, unwrapping gifts. Pale silk dress. Cheeks pink. That same small, hesitant voice. “Wren. You’re home.” Beside her stood a brand-new Steinway upright — pale wood, red ribbon still looped around the leg. My mother beamed. “Nina’s welcome-home present. She hasn’t touched a piano in this house in seven years.” My father chuckled. “Play whenever you want, sweetheart. It’s yours.” Julian ruffled her hair. “You worked so hard, starting over in Paris. It’s about time you played at home again.” Sebastian was crouched by the bench, adjusting the height for her. I remembered, in that moment, seven years ago — Sebastian sitting on the edge of my hospital bed, holding my hand. “I’ll be your right ear, Wren. I promise.” I understood now. He, too, had decided that Nina’s chance to play again mattered more than my chance to hear again. I walked over to the piano. I set the copies down on the lid. The paper was thin. Almost weightless. But when it landed, it hit the room like a slap. Silence. My mother’s face changed. “Why did you go digging around at the hospital?” I met her eyes. “So seven years ago, I could have been treated. Is that right?” Nina’s eyes filled instantly. She stood up. “Wren — if you think I took your surgery from you, I’ll never touch a piano again. I swear.” My mother pulled her in, held her tight. “It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart. That was our decision as parents.” My father’s jaw set. He gestured at the housekeeper. “Marta, get these papers off Nina’s piano. She doesn’t need to see this today.” I watched Marta lift the copies away like they were something dirty. I looked at the new Steinway, gleaming under the chandelier. Seven years ago, I had lost my right ear. She had lost her nerve to play. And in the end, the thing they’d chosen to rescue was her nerve. The thing they’d chosen to give up was my life.

My mother threw Nina’s welcome-home dinner at the house. “She just got off a long flight,” she said. “She can’t handle anywhere loud.” But the dining table was covered in everything Nina loved. Lobster bisque. Crab cakes. Mango sorbet. A cold Thai peanut salad, glossy with dressing. I’m allergic to shellfish. Allergic to mango. Allergic to peanuts. The doctor had warned me seven years ago — an allergic reaction could spike my tinnitus, could throw off my balance, could make the vertigo worse. My mother was too busy cracking lobster tail for Nina to notice. My father slid the only bowl of plain broth in front of Nina. Julian reached across the table and took the small salad plate meant for me. “Nina just got in. Let her have something gentle.” I was seated closest to the door. My right side was aimed straight at the speaker. There wasn’t even a clean set of silverware in front of me. Sebastian noticed. He half-turned to ask Marta to set another place. Nina’s eyes filled before he could open his mouth. “Is Wren still angry with me? Is that why she won’t eat?” Sebastian’s hand froze mid-motion. In the end, he just slid his own water glass across the table toward me. “Here. Drink something.” I looked at the glass. I didn’t touch it. Halfway through dinner, Nina reached under her chair and pulled out a small box. She slid it across the tablecloth to me, both hands, the way you’d offer something delicate. “Wren. This is for you. It’s overdue.” Inside was a pair of headphones. Old. The paint chipped off in patches. The cable insulation split down the sides. Yellowed masking tape held the jack together. My mother’s eyes shone. “It’s the thought that counts.” My father nodded. “She just got back. She doesn’t have money of her own yet. The fact that she was thinking of you at all — that’s more than enough.” Julian: “It’s not about the price. It’s about her humbling herself.” Sebastian, low, meant only for me: “Just accept it. Don’t embarrass her in front of everyone.” I hadn’t opened my mouth yet when my phone buzzed. A Chase alert. Purchase — $980.00 — LOWER EAST VINTAGE, NY. The account I’d been saving for my ear follow-up. I looked up at Nina. At the chipped, taped-together headphones on the table between us. “You used my money to buy me garbage,” I said. “And you’re calling that an apology?” Nina went pale. Tears fell instantly. “Wren — I didn’t know that card was yours. I only wanted to make it right.” Something in me finally cracked. “You blew out my ear. You took my surgery. And now you can’t even afford to say sorry without charging it to my account.” The room went still. Nina pressed both hands to her chest and gasped like she couldn’t breathe. Tears kept falling. My father slammed his palm on the table so hard the crystal jumped. “Wren!” “Are you trying to break her on her first night home?” The ringing in my left ear spiked, thin and metallic. My mother pulled Nina against her shoulder and started to cry. Julian stepped between us, cold-eyed. Even Sebastian frowned. “Wren. Stop provoking her.” Nina reached, sobbing, for the little box beside her plate. She flipped the lid. “I’ll — I’ll put on a song Wren used to love. When we were little. So we can all stop fighting.” A music box. Then it began to play. Not a lullaby. The Chopin Ballade No. 1 in G minor. The piece I had practiced for three years. The piece I had played at my Juilliard audition. The piece I had never been able to listen to since. The first four bars registered in my left ear — the melody I hadn’t heard in seven years, thin and mocking through a cheap tin speaker. My tinnitus surged like a wire pulled tight. The room tilted. The vertigo hit me the way the doctor had warned me it would — sound and memory colliding at once, my balance shearing off between one breath and the next. I stumbled backward, caught the edge of the sideboard, and went down into shattered crystal. Glass opened my palm. Something warm slid down the side of my neck from my ear — the old scar tissue, split open where I’d struck the corner of the sideboard on the way down. Sebastian’s body jerked toward me instinctively — one step. Nina shrieked. “My hand! Oh God, my hand!” Sebastian’s hand hung in the air. Then he turned. And put his body between Nina and the broken glass.

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The call came in just as I was countersigning a ten-million-dollar patent license under a Department of Defense classification stamp. My mother didn’t bother with a greeting. “Isabella’s marrying into the Marchettis this weekend. You need to be there.” She hung up. The Marchettis. One of the Five Mafia Families. For a Vitale girl,to marry a Marchetti was what my mother had been praying for for twenty years. I set my pen down. I opened the group chat I’d had on mute since Christmas. My brother Elliot said: “Every Don on the Eastern Seaboard is going to be at that wedding. Wear something decent. Don’t embarrass Isabella. ” Ethan Colombo, who’d grown up two houses down from ours, jumped in right after. “Ten years out of high school. If you’d worked half as hard as Isabella and gotten into an Ivy, you’d have your foot in the Marchettis’ door by now instead of pulling espresso shots in some Queens hole in the wall.” I scrolled down. Then I stopped on a message from Melanie Ricci, the girl who used to be my best friend. “Hazel, Isabella’s going to be a Marchetti in five days. If New York isn’t working out, come home. Ask Isabella to put in a word. The Marchettis can place you somewhere respectable. Hostess at the club. Something. Anything is better than what you’re doing to your family’s name.” I looked down. The Marchettis. Over the last three months, Don Salvatore Marchetti himself had reached out to me three times, requesting a thirty-minute meeting. I couldn’t be bothered to read any more of it. I typed back, “OK. I’ll be there.” Isabella sent a Venmo request within seconds. $0.01 The memo read: “For your flight home ❤️ Can’t wait to see you, Hazel!!” Elliot’s voice message came in immediately after. “With everything Isabella’s spending on this wedding, how do you have the nerve to actually accept that? Send it back.” Ethan: “Just because Isabella pulls two hundred grand a year at McKinsey doesn’t make her your personal ATM. Have some pride. You’re a Vitale.” I was about to type a response. Melanie dropped in with a sighing emoji. “Come on, you guys. Can we stop coming at Hazel every chance we get?” “Out of all of us, she’s the one who tried the hardest and ended up bringing the most shame on the Family. Now, she’s finally coming home. Let her come home.” I looked down again. At eighteen, yes. I really had been hiding. Senior year of high school, Isabella had transferred back from her Catholic prep school in Los Angeles and slid effortlessly into my little circle of three. Me, Ethan, Melanie. My mother had sent Isabella there for etiquette lessons, French, and everything she’d need to one day carry the Vitale name into a Five Families ballroom. Getting into an Ivy was part of the plan, too. The Vitale Family needed someone with a flawless public record—someone the Five Families would accept as its public face. Just like at home, I quickly became the invisible one. We’d be walking down the hallway, and out of nowhere all three of them would stop at the same time. Ethan would tip his chin up slightly. Melanie would follow his eyes. Isabella would look down and smile. I’d just be standing there. At first, I’d ask what they were laughing about. A few times. They always said it was nothing. Eventually, I stopped trying to force my way into a circle that didn’t want me. I started avoiding them instead. Then MIT’s early admission letter came, and every waking hour of mine went into the lab. I didn’t have time to avoid anyone anymore. A DM from Isabella pulled me back. “Hazel, don’t take the Venmo thing personally.” Her tone was all soft edges. “I know rent in New York is brutal and things are tight for you. I just wanted to help cover your flight. That’s all I meant by it.” A teary-eyed emoji followed. Right on cue, the group chat filled up with people praising how thoughtful she was. I screenshotted the Venmo request and sent her $0.01 back. The chat went quiet for a few seconds. Elliot was the first to snap. “Hazel, what the hell? You think it’s not enough?” “You didn’t even finish college. Isabella’s still willing to seat you in the main ballroom instead of at the overflow tables. And you have the nerve to nickel-and-dime her over a Venmo?” Ethan: “A penny’s still a gesture.” Melanie: “And you actually screenshotted it and sent it back. Do you have any idea what a position you’re putting Isabella?” I leaned back in my chair and took a sip of coffee. At eighteen, that kind of one-sided defense would’ve kept me up all night. At twenty-eight, I didn’t feel a thing. Isabella sent a voice memo. Careful, apologetic. “Hazel, I got so excited when I heard you were coming home, my hand slipped. Please don’t be upset, okay?” “I really do worry about you out there in New York on your own. I already talked to Matteo about finding you a place with the Family. Maybe hostess at the Newport club. Or the front desk at the restaurant on Bellevue. Given that you never finished college, we can’t exactly put you in a high-profile position. Don’t take it the wrong way.” Elliot scoffed. “What right does she have to take it the wrong way? She’s the one who dropped the ball. Every time someone in the Family asks about her, I’m too embarrassed to answer.” Ten years ago, on the day college decisions came in the mail. Isabella got into Yale. I got one rejection letter and a waitlist notice from the local community college. My parents booked a two-week trip through the Amalfi Coast with Isabella and Elliot. They handed me $50. Said it was two weeks of living money. They didn’t even pretend to feel bad about it. “You couldn’t even get into a community college. You embarrassed the Vitale family. You don’t deserve to come on this trip with us.” I wanted to tell them that a family shouldn’t rank its children by how useful they are. But i didn’t say it. The coffee mug had hit my forehead the year before. I still had the small scar above my eyebrow. That was answer enough. I never told them about the USAMO gold medal. I never told them about the MIT letter, or the full Presidential Scholarship that came with it. None of it. Let Isabella be the one they marry into the Five Families to serve as the family’s public face. A knock at the door. Emma, my assistant, stood in the doorway, her voice careful and respectful. “Dr. Vitale. Dr. Langley called personally this time. Don Salvatore Marchetti is asking for thirty minutes. Any location. Any time this month.” The clean side of the Marchetti operation had already sunk half a billion dollars into a defense subcontracting venture, routed through a Delaware shell. The Pentagon contract they were desperate to win required a highly specialized neural signal decoding architecture capable of defeating the FBI’s voice-recognition system. They had been stalled for two years on the algorithm. I happened to hold the patent. Emma hesitated. “Do you want me to decline again?” I laughed softly. “No. Tell Don Salvatore Marchetti I’ll be in Newport this weekend.”

Friday. I flew into Providence, and a black car service picked me up at the terminal and drove me down to Newport. No one from the Family came to meet me. The car dropped me off at my parents’ house on Bellevue. Melanie opened the door. She did a small double take, something flickering behind her eyes. “Hazel… I almost didn’t recognize you.That coat doesn’t exactly say 2000 a month behind a coffee counter.” I didn’t respond. I walked past her into the house. Isabella’s eyes tracked to the watch on my wrist, then swept over my coat. She pressed her lips together. “Hazel, come on. We’re Family. You don’t need to put on a show like this. How many credit cards did you max out?” Elliot glanced at me. “Ten years away, and you haven’t picked up a single useful skill. Just the attitude.” Ethan chimed in, laughing. “Impressive, Hazel. You used to be so plain in high school. At least you’ve learned how to dress the part.” I looked at them. Ten years, and none of them had really changed. Elliot had put on weight. Melanie had lines at the corners of her eyes. Ethan’s hairline had retreated visibly. Isabella was the exception. Porcelain-smooth, immaculate, styled to within an inch of her life. A Cartier watch on one wrist, a Marchetti engagement stone catching the light on her finger. But one thing was the same across all four faces. That same faint, casual contempt when they looked at me. I raised an eyebrow. “From the day I graduated until now, I have never once mentioned my income to any of you. I have never sent any of you a private message complaining about money. So where exactly are you getting your numbers from?” Nobody had an answer. My mother came out of the sitting room, wine in hand. The housekeeper followed behind her, carrying a tray toward the dining room. She glanced at me. “No college degree. Not even a place at the Family’s table as a consigliere or a bookkeeper. Whatever she’s doing out there in New York, God only knows. Ten years, and not one thing to show for the Vitale name.” My father clapped me on the shoulder. “Alright, alright. We’re blood. Nobody here’s going to judge you. Let’s just eat.” Eight dishes, brought out one by one by the housekeeper and set carefully on the table. Ethan and Melanie both cooed over them. “Mrs. Vitale, you remembered I love the osso buco.” “You had them make the branzino again. Mrs. Vitale, that was my favorite last time.” I glanced across the table. Every person at the table had their favorite in front of them. Even the Cane Corso curled up by the fireplace had a small bowl of veal. Every person except me. At the table, my mother personally cut Isabella’s steak and placed it on her plate. “We’ve been investing in property along the Newport coast these past few years. Elliot and Isabella both graduated from top schools and have contributed to this Family. They’ve each earned a house.” She looked up at me. “As for you, Hazel… someone who’s done nothing but bring shame to the Vitale name doesn’t deserve a thing.” I set down my fork and let out a small laugh. “So that’s how the Vitales divides its property. Not by blood, but by who’s been the most useful to the Family.” The table went dead silent. My mother’s face flushed red. Her palm came down on the table hard enough to rattle the glasses. “Hazel! Ten years, not so much as a phone call, and you walk into this house and throw that in my face?!” “If I’d known you’d turn out this ungrateful, I should have left you on the church steps in a basket the night you were born!” Exactly like ten years ago. The day my mother saw my SAT score report. The mug flew straight at my forehead, hit hard enough to split the skin above my eyebrow. Blood ran down the side of my face and dripped onto the hardwood. She’d worn the same expression. “The one thing I regret in this life is not leaving you at the church that night. Would’ve spared this Family the embarrassment.” Ten years was long enough to give up on whatever thin sliver of a mother’s love I’d once hoped for. Right now, I didn’t feel a thing. My father tried to smooth things over. “You know how your mother is. She says things she doesn’t mean. Don’t take it personally.” He forced a laugh and changed the subject. “Isabella,tomorrow we will bring that construction contract which Providence holds to the wedding. As a gift from the Vitales to the Marchetti operation. Don Salvatore Marchetti will remember it.” Isabella’s smile went tight at the corners. “Dad… Don Salvatore Marchetti might not be at the wedding.”

My father froze. “What do you mean, he’s not coming? It’s Matteo’s wedding. Don Salvatore Marchetti doesn’t show up for his own grandson?” Isabella sighed. “Matteo said Don Salvatore Marchetti has a guest flying in this weekend. Someone he has to sit with personally. He can’t get away.” Elliot frowned. “Who? Who’s more important than his own grandson at the altar?” “I don’t know exactly,” Isabella said, shaking her head. “Matteo just said someone from up the coast. Apparently Don Salvatore Marchetti has been working every angle he has for three months just to get this meeting on the calendar.” Melanie looked genuinely baffled. “Who makes a Marchetti wait three months?” Ethan scoffed. “You sure? Nothing tops Isabella’s wedding to a Marchetti. Nothing.” Isabella waved them off quickly. “Don’t say that. Matteo told me this person is sitting on something the Family has needed for two years. Don Salvatore Marchetti said if the deal closes, the Marchettis don’t have to worry about the Feds for a decade.” She paused. Then, with studied casualness, she glanced at me. “Hazel, you’ve been out there a while. You hear anything about who this might be?” I shook my head. “Not really.” Elliot let out a short, derisive laugh. “She never finished college. She’s not even useful enough to keep the Vitale honor. What would she have heard? Isabella, stop dragging her into every conversation. She can’t keep up.” I kept eating and said nothing. What was I supposed to say? That the person Don Salvatore Marchetti had been chasing for three months was me? They’d laugh in my face and hit me with a “Come on, don’t flatter yourself.” After dinner, I sat around for a while and was about to get up when my father stopped me. “Hazel, your mom had the housekeeper air out your old room a few days ago. You haven’t been home in ten years. She won’t say it, but she’s missed you.” He added, with a small smile, “New sheets. New pillowcases. Your mother picked them out herself.” Right on cue, my mother came out of the sitting room, her voice flat. “Melanie’s taking the guest room tonight. Hazel, you can take the couch.” My father’s smile stiffened on his face. Melanie looked up from the couch, glanced at me, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “Mrs. Vitale, please, I couldn’t. I can just book somewhere in town.” My mother’s tone left no room for discussion. “You barely come around anymore. I’m not letting a Ricci girl stay at some stranger’s inn. Hazel is Family. She can take the couch.” I stood next to the dining table and said nothing. The summer after I finished the SAT, Melanie stayed over. I gave her my room and curled up on the living room couch all night. The AC broke that night. In August. I woke up sweating three times. By morning my shirt was soaked through and my neck was cramped from the couch arm. When my mother saw me the next morning, all she said was, “You should’ve grabbed a blanket from the closet and slept on the guest room floor. Guest room has the window unit.” Melanie stayed over a few more times after that. Once, I stood in the doorway of my own room and watched my mother stand at the foot of the guest bed, instructing the housekeeper as she smoothed fresh sheets. A soft, contented smile on my mother’s face the whole time. I stood there thinking I looked like a guest who’d wandered into the wrong house. “Hazel?” My mother’s voice pulled me back. She was frowning, apparently annoyed that I hadn’t immediately agreed. I stood up. “That’s alright. I already booked a hotel.” Her face darkened. “So you’d rather sleep in a hotel than under your father’s roof? What is a Vitale girl doing checking into a hotel in her own town?” I picked up my coat and started toward the door. “I sleep better in a bed.” Behind me, I heard my mother mutter to my father, “Ten years away, and her attitude’s out of control. Every single thing has to be a fight.” The door closed behind me. Ten years ago, the girl who spent that August night on the couch would have cried into her pillow, unable to understand why her mother was kinder to a Ricci girl than to her own daughter. The Hazel of ten years later doesn’t cry over that. The deposits kept coming in. Patent licensing fees. Equity distributions. Federal contract royalties. Each one trailed by so many zeros I’d stopped counting. She’d stopped needing anyone else to be good to her. She was good to herself. Generously.

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The night before our engagement party, I found an adoption agreement tucked inside the breast pocket of Cassian Montero’s suit jacket. He had adopted Ron Montero—the son of his late brother, Domenico. I slammed the papers on the table and demanded an explanation. Cassian smoked on the balcony all night. Just before dawn, he came inside, his voice raw: “Domenico died protecting me. I owe him my life. His child can’t grow up without a father.” I understood immediately. He wasn’t going to budge. He wasn’t even sorry. Even though he was the one who’d broken his promise first. Eight years together. From when he was nothing more than a low-level errand boy under Don Salvatore Caruso, to now, second-in-command of the family—we’d been at each other’s side through all of it. I was a board-certified surgeon. For him, I’d walked into a world drenched in gunpowder and blood, against my parents’ wishes, against everyone’s warnings. He had sworn that no matter what, I would always come first. But now he was telling me that for a dead man’s child, I should step aside. I refused to accept it. I clenched my jaw, put on my dress, and went ahead with the engagement ceremony as planned. Everything went smoothly. The exchange of rings, the speeches, the toasts. Until Enzo’s phone started buzzing frantically in his pocket. He was Cassian’s childhood friend and his most trusted man. He answered. The color drained from his face. Then he stood, cut quickly through the crowd, and leaned close to Cassian’s ear, his voice shaking: “Boss, Vittoria says the boy has no father—she doesn’t want to live anymore. She’s taken Ron up to the rooftop.” In an instant, Cassian’s champagne glass hit the table with a crack. My entire family, flown in from the States, and his sparse crew of syndicate brothers all stared at one another in stunned silence. But he didn’t notice any of them. He was already heading for the door. I called out to him, my eyes burning: “Cassian Montero.” “If you walk out that door tonight, you’re dead to me.” My voice was almost a scream. His step faltered for one second. Just one. Then he was gone. The music stopped. Every pair of eyes in the room swung toward me like spotlights. My mother’s tears were already brimming; my father’s face had gone an iron shade of blue. “What is this? He just—left? For some woman?” My mother’s voice trembled. I walked down the steps and set my champagne glass back on a passing tray. The motion was gentle. My hand was still shaking. But my voice had already gone calm. “Mom, Dad, I’ll take you back to the hotel.” “The engagement is off.” Enzo was still rooted to the spot, guilt written all over his face. “…Sera, I didn’t mean for this to happen—I was just afraid someone might actually die—” I looked at him. Said nothing. Enzo and Cassian had grown up on the same street. Domenico’s widow, Vittoria, was family in their eyes—someone they were duty-bound to protect. But this particular family member had chosen this exact moment to threaten to jump off a building. I helped my mother to her feet and walked out of the banquet hall. My phone buzzed over and over inside my bag. I knew it was Cassian. He would apologize, explain how fragile Vittoria’s mental state was, how he’d had no choice. Eight years. I knew him too well. Three years ago, he and Domenico had been betrayed by a mole and trapped inside an abandoned car factory. In the chaos, one of the Don’s confidants had shoved Domenico clear—that was the only reason they’d made it out alive. Afterward, though Cassian had the man executed, the debt still crushed him. So I learned to be understanding. Understanding when every spare moment went to visiting them. Understanding when our holiday dates always turned into dinners for four. It wasn’t until he tried to put that child under his own name that I realized everything had already gone off the rails. I changed clothes and drove to the hospital where I worked. It was the nearest hospital. Vittoria would certainly be brought there. When I reached the infirmary, Cassian was holding Ron. Vittoria was wrapped in a blanket, leaning against his arm, her eyelids swollen, her nose red. A nurse was taking her blood pressure. Cassian looked up when he saw me. He stood, the child still whimpering softly in his arms. “Sera… I’m sorry, tonight—” “Is everyone all right?” I cut him off. My gaze went past him and landed on Vittoria. “She’s fine now. The boy was frightened—low-grade fever, but no injuries.” “Good.” I nodded and turned to leave. “Sera—” Cassian freed one hand and caught my wrist. “Don’t do this. Domenico died to protect me. I can’t just abandon them. She’s alone with the child, no one to lean on—” “I never said you couldn’t take care of them.” I shook his hand off. “I’ve just realized that everything between us seems to matter less than a widow you’ve known for three years and her son.” “They almost died!” “Your men told me they hadn’t even made it to the staircase.” Cassian’s jaw tightened. He stared at me, his lips moving, but not a single word came out. Then Vittoria stumbled over, her voice thin and fragile: “Dr. Aldridge… I’m so sorry, this is all my fault… I saw your engagement ceremony and it reminded me of Domenico… I couldn’t control myself…” She shrank behind the blanket, crying so hard her entire body swayed. Cassian immediately handed the child to Enzo and reached out to steady her. “Don’t—it’s over now. You need to rest.” He eased her back into a chair, and when he looked up at me, his eyes held nothing but reproach. “Sera, she’s a single mother. She’s my family. Can’t you show a little compassion?” I didn’t answer. I turned and walked out of the infirmary. It wasn’t until I rounded the corner that I realized my hands had been shaking the entire time.

The next morning, Cassian appeared at my apartment door holding a paper bag. Inside were an almond croissant and a latte from my usual café. He remembered how I liked them. He’d remembered for eight years. He held the bag out. “Sera, I was up all night thinking about what happened. Let me make it up to you, okay? We’ll redo the engagement.” I leaned against the doorframe. I didn’t let him in. “Redo it? And what if she ‘suddenly’—’can’t control herself’ again?” “Am I supposed to stand there with my family and be humiliated in front of everyone a second time?” He was quiet for a few seconds. When he spoke again, impatience had already crept into his voice. “Then what do you want? It’s done, Sera. I know you were hurt, but Vittoria just lost her husband—she’s raising a child all by herself.” “And last night she was in complete mental breakdown. She didn’t pick that moment on purpose. Can’t we just be a little more understanding?” That word again. I took the bag and set it on the console table by the door. “Fine. You should go. They need someone taking care of them.” Cassian exhaled in relief, apparently thinking I’d come around. “I knew you’d understand. Don’t worry—once things settle down, I’ll make it up to you properly.” He left. I threw the bag of breakfast, untouched, into the trash. I put on my white coat and went to work. Rounding the corner of the pediatric wing, I saw Cassian. He was carrying Ron. Vittoria trailed close behind him, one hand hooked around his elbow, her face tight with worry as she spoke to a nurse. The three of them walked together like a complete family. Cassian spotted me. His expression froze for an instant. Vittoria immediately lowered her head, pulling her hand away from his arm. I didn’t slow down. I walked straight to my office. That afternoon, my mentor, Dr. Hargrove, came to find me. “Sera, there’s a child with what looks like a cardiac issue. Pediatrics wants you to consult.” “I’m in thoracic surgery, not pediatric cardiac.” “I know. But you’re the best this hospital has, and the case is complicated. Do me a favor.” Dr. Hargrove was the man who’d built my career from the ground up. I couldn’t say no. Two bodyguards stood outside the VIP suite, checking my badge carefully before they opened the door. I stepped inside. Ron lay in bed, his skin a waxy yellow. Vittoria sat at his bedside and, seeing me, immediately started to cry again. “Dr. Aldridge, please—save Ron… He’s all Domenico left behind…” I opened the test results. Congenital ventricular septal defect. The opening sat dangerously close to the major vessels and the conduction bundle. “What’s the surgical risk?” Cassian stood by the window, his voice low. “Approximately thirty percent intraoperative mortality.” I closed the chart. Vittoria collapsed to the floor. Cassian crossed the room in one stride and caught her, then turned to me. That look—I knew it well. Absolute. Unyielding. “Seraphina, you’re doing this surgery. And it has to succeed.” My tone was flat. “Cassian, I’m a doctor, not God. I can’t guarantee the outcome.” “I don’t care!” His voice rose sharply. “Domenico died because of me! I have to keep his son alive! If you’re not confident, then bring in the best specialist in the country!” Every pair of eyes in the room was pinned on me. Then Vittoria crawled up from the floor and seized the hem of my white coat with both hands. “Dr. Aldridge, I know you hate me… hate me for ruining your engagement… If you want to hate someone, hate me—Ron is innocent. You can’t hold back because of what I did…” Her words were like shards of broken glass, each one embedding itself under my skin. Whispers from the corridor washed in like a tide. “Isn’t that her? The doctor whose fiancé abandoned her at the engagement party—” “God, this is going to be ugly. You think she’d sabotage the surgery out of spite…?” Cassian’s expression shifted in an instant. His face went ashen. He fixed his eyes on me and spoke one word at a time: “Seraphina, if you let anything happen to this child because of some grudge, I will never forgive you.” My heart sank below freezing. He had just threatened me. In front of everyone. I looked at him. Then at Vittoria, still on her knees. And I smiled—faintly. “Fine. I’ll do the surgery.” I paused. “But you’re signing a liability waiver. And I’m reporting the surgical risk level to the hospital administration and notifying every relevant department to prepare for the worst-case scenario.” “I want every single person to know that this surgery was done at the demand of Cassian Montero. If the child dies on the table—you bear the consequences. All of them. Alone.” Cassian’s fists clenched at his sides. His knuckles cracked. He stared at me, disappointment and fury churning in his eyes. “Seraphina Aldridge, I never knew you were this kind of person.” “Now you do.” I slapped the chart against his chest—he instinctively stepped back half a pace. “Make up your mind and go file the paperwork.” I turned and walked out of the room, my eyes so dry they could have cracked and spilled tears at any second. But they didn’t.

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