I’ve always had a sixth sense for disaster, a chilling premonition that has saved my life more times than I can count. The Thanksgiving holiday was over, and I was heading back to the city with my boyfriend, Leo, for work. Right before boarding, I was hit with a vision of a plane crash. I blocked the gate, screaming for everyone to stop, and was dragged away by airport security for causing a panic. Five hours later, after a long delay, the plane landed safely. But the passengers, riding a wave of media attention, went live on social media, branding me an extremist, a cult member trying to sabotage the flight. They cried about their financial losses from the delay, demanding I pay for everything. They fueled conspiracy theories and sicced an online mob on me. I was doxxed, and I lost my job. Then Leo, my own boyfriend, saw an opportunity for a promotion. He reported my history of “predictions” to the authorities. I was sentenced to three years in prison. Later, when I foresaw the prison’s collapse, no one listened. I was thrown into solitary confinement and crushed to death under the rubble. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of the airport terminal, the day of the flight. Reborn. 1. “Grace! Hey, Grace!” My boyfriend, Leo, was shaking my shoulder, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “You were just saying you had a bad feeling about today. So, is the plane going to fly or not?” My eyes snapped open. The world spun. The crushing despair, the searing pain of being buried alive, still lingered in my bones. I flinched away from his touch. Looking around at the familiar chaos of the departures hall, I knew it was real. I was back. Last time, the day we were supposed to fly back after the holiday, I’d woken up with a fever, vomiting. On the way to the airport, our taxi hit a rabbit that darted into the road. A hairpin in my bag sliced my finger open, blood welling up thick and fast. A knot of fear had tightened in my stomach. I’d begged Leo to change the flight. But he’d just called me superstitious. In the crowded waiting area, in front of all the other passengers, he’d loudly declared I was having a nervous breakdown, that I was paranoid. He’d joked that one more outburst and he’d have me committed. The strange, pitying stares from everyone around me had been too much. I’d shut my mouth. But then, as boarding began, a horrifying vision had flashed through my mind: the plane exploding in mid-air. For everyone’s safety, I’d thrown myself in front of the gate, demanding the crew perform another safety check, demanding every passenger go through security again. No one believed my premonition, so I lied. I screamed that I’d seen someone with a bomb. That’s when Leo had stood up and pointed at me, telling everyone I was crazy. Eager to get on with their travels, the other passengers had turned on me. They called me sick, an attention-seeker deliberately disrupting their plans. But even so, after security hauled me away, they did another sweep. They re-screened the passengers and re-inspected the plane. When I heard the news in the interrogation room that the flight had landed safely, a wave of pure relief washed over me. I had no idea it was the beginning of my nightmare. The story went viral. Passengers from that flight became overnight media darlings. One after another, they went online to complain. Five hours, they’d been delayed. Five precious hours. A businessman claimed he’d lost a multi-million-dollar deal. A woman wept that she’d missed her own wedding. My face and personal information were doxxed and plastered everywhere. I was a pariah. My company fired me. Strangers threw rocks and eggs at me on the street. I became a prisoner in my own home. And Leo? He didn’t comfort me. He gathered “evidence”—every strange feeling I’d ever shared, every dream I’d ever had—and reported me. He told the court I was a dangerous cultist spreading panic. The judge gave me three years. The last time I saw him, he was visiting me in prison, his face glowing with triumph. When I asked him why, his voice was laced with venom. “They were going to make you the Director of Finance? You? Over me?” he’d sneered. “A woman, standing in my way? I don’t think so.” And then came the final vision: the prison walls crumbling. They threw me in solitary. I was crushed to death. After I died, I watched as the passengers from that flight leveraged their fifteen minutes of fame into careers as influencers, selling cheap junk on livestreams. I watched as Leo took the Director of Finance position that should have been mine. The injustice of it all burned. I would not let it happen again. 2. “Grace! Grace, what are you spacing out for? I’m talking to you!” Leo shoved my shoulder again, his voice sharp with impatience. A woman in a blue hat nearby chimed in. “Boarding was supposed to start five minutes ago. Where’s the plane?” She flashed a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg. “I’m getting married tomorrow! If this delay makes me late, I’ll sue the airline into the ground!” The man with the briefcase next to her kept checking his watch. “I’ve got a billion-dollar deal waiting for my signature!” he grumbled. “Can this damn airline afford to cover that loss?” “Wow, a real tycoon…” a few people murmured, gathering around him. I stared at their faces, the woman in the blue hat and the man with the briefcase. I wanted to claw their smug faces off. They were the ones who had led the charge against me online, the two who profited most from my downfall, building their brands on my humiliation. “Grace Shaw!” Leo’s voice was a bark. He’d lost his patience completely. I forced down the hatred churning in my gut and looked at the man I despised more than anyone. “What did you say?” I asked calmly. “I didn’t hear you.” They were so ungrateful in the last life. This time, they could all take their seats on the death flight. “I asked,” Leo said, irritated, “if this plane is safe to fly!” I smiled. “Of course it is.” My answer surprised him. He frowned, pressing me. “Are you sure? A minute ago you said you had a bad feeling. You said you dreamed about a crash last night. And this morning, the rabbit, your finger…” “You said they were bad omens,” he finished. Leo spoke loudly, making sure everyone in the gate area could hear. At the mention of a crash, dozens of heads snapped in my direction. Their expressions were a mix of concern and disgust. I was the crazy one, the bringer of bad luck. With just a few words, Leo had put me on trial again. Outside the massive terminal window, thunder rumbled. Leo’s voice cut through the noise. “Well, Grace? Is it going to fly or not?” I looked at him, remembering his cruel words in the prison visiting room. And suddenly, it clicked. This was a setup. The dead rabbit, the cut on my finger… aside from the nightmare, everything else could have been orchestrated. Maybe he had been trying to push me over the edge all along, to make me look unstable so he could steal my promotion. The thought sent a chill down my spine. Meeting Leo’s gaze, I answered with unwavering confidence. “Yes, it’s going to fly. I’m anxious to get back to work. Of course it’s going to fly.” I turned to the other passengers and gave them a reassuring smile. “What rabbit? Don’t be so superstitious. It’s bad luck to even talk about things like that before a flight.” I gestured toward Leo. “My boyfriend just gets a little nervous.” This time, I wouldn’t give him the chance to paint me as the hysteric. “Hick. First time on a plane?” someone muttered. “Pathetic. Needs his girlfriend to calm him down.” “Seriously, so tacky. Who says stuff like that out loud? I’m getting married tomorrow, I don’t need to hear that negativity,” the woman in the blue hat snapped. The whispers spread. I saw Leo’s face turn beet red. He was gritting his teeth in fury. I calmly took out my phone. I had to change my ticket, but I couldn’t just not board. That would look too suspicious. I’d cancel my check-in first. Leo leaned in close, his voice a low hiss. “Something’s not right with you, Grace.” A wave of fear washed over me. He was staring intently at my phone screen, a strange, knowing smile on his face. “You’re not thinking of quietly changing your flight, are you?” My heart hammered against my ribs. “Are you crazy?” I snapped, forcing a look of indignation. “Of course not. Did you hear? I got a tip from HR. They’re about to make me Director of Finance. I can’t wait to get back and pop the champagne.” It was a gamble, but I had to throw him off the scent. This bastard had to get on that plane. As I’d hoped, a muscle in Leo’s jaw twitched. His expression became even more strained. “Oh. Well, congratulations.” I pressed my advantage. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you in a hurry to get back?” I raised my voice again, mimicking his earlier performance. “Is it that the plane can’t fly, or that you don’t want it to fly? Everyone here has urgent business. Can you stop being so selfish?” The murmurs started again, now directed at him. “What is wrong with that guy?” “I’ve got a billion-dollar deal to close!” “Young people today have no consideration for anyone else.” As Leo scrambled to defend himself, I slipped my ID out of my wallet. “I’m just going to the restroom,” I said quietly, and stood up. I had won the court of public opinion. But as I took a step, Leo’s voice rang out, sharp and triumphant. “My girlfriend reads tarot cards! Why don’t we have her do a reading for the flight?” He smiled at me, a cold, demonic smile. “Grace? Come on. Everyone’s waiting.” 3. Leo’s voice was a chilling whisper, an invitation to a trap. “For real? Show us, honey!” “I’ve never seen a tarot reading before. This should be interesting.” “Well, the flight’s already delayed. Might as well have some fun.” The passengers crowded around, their boredom turning to curiosity. Leo smiled sweetly at me. “Don’t say no, Grace. Unless you have something to hide?” I had to admit, the little weasel was sharp. To avoid raising his suspicions, I sat back down, my hands clammy and cold. Leo produced a brand-new deck of tarot cards from my own bag. A dozen people leaned in to watch. My fingers were stiff as I shuffled and drew three cards. Each one was worse than the last. A tower, a skeleton, a devil. It was a clear and catastrophic omen of death. But how could I tell them that? I forced a bright smile. “According to my reading, we will definitely be taking off today!” A few people exchanged looks. The man with the briefcase crossed his arms, unimpressed. “What good is taking off today? I’ve already missed my meeting…” “You could always change your flight,” I suggested sweetly. He scoffed. “And do what? With this weather, every flight will be a mess.” I was about to pack up the cards and make another escape to the restroom when the woman in the blue hat shrieked. “No! That’s not what those cards mean! They mean the plane is going to crash! No survivors! You’re lying to us!” The crowd surged forward again. Leo fixed me with a glare. “Grace, what is the meaning of this? Are you trying to get us all killed?” He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron, his voice booming for all to hear. My heart leaped into my throat. I held up my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, everyone,” I said, my voice full of shame. “I don’t really know how to read them. It’s just a silly hobby. I just like to pretend.” I pointed to the box. “See? It’s a brand new deck. The plastic is still on it. I had no idea there was an expert among us.” I turned to the woman in the blue hat, my eyes wide with manufactured fear. “Oh my god, ma’am, is it really that bad? Should we all change our flights? Are these things accurate? Oh, what am I going to do? My promotion…” I had turned the spotlight directly onto her. Tarot cards were a niche interest. Most of the older passengers were already skeptical. “My billion-dollar deal!” “My kids are waiting for me to make them dinner!” “No way, I’m not changing my flight! I have tenants to collect rent from…” A cacophony of angry voices drowned out the woman in the blue hat. She was now the enemy, the one trying to derail their lives with her hocus-pocus. Her face turned crimson with rage. “Alright, that’s enough!” she screamed. “You bitch, stop putting words in my mouth! I never said anyone should change their flight! I have a wedding to get to! The last thing I want is another delay! Blame her boyfriend! He’s the one who started this superstitious nonsense!” As the passengers argued, I saw the plane finally pull up to the gate. My anxiety spiked. Leo was busy defending himself. This was my chance. “I need the restroom,” I muttered, and slipped away. The second I was inside a stall, I opened the airline app. My check-in was cancelled. My ticket was rebooked for the same flight tomorrow. Now all I had to do was figure out how to handle the police questioning after the crash. This time, there would be no one to point the finger at me. Dead men tell no tales. I waited in the restroom for thirty minutes. Boarding was about to close. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a text from Leo. Grace, are you still in the bathroom? Why aren’t you boarding? Is there really something wrong with this flight? 4. The message sent a sliver of ice through my veins. The best defense, I decided, was a good offense. I would start a huge, dramatic fight. The fight we should have had during the holiday. About the house deed being only in his name. About his mother stealing and selling my gold bracelet. Any of the things he thought I didn’t know about. All I had to do was pick one and demand he come out and deal with it right now. I knew him. He would run from that kind of confrontation faster than anything. Just then, my phone rang. It was my best friend, Jenna. My screen was already lighting up with a flood of notifications from her. The moment I answered, her drunken, sobbing voice filled my ear. “Grace, what am I going to do? I’m pregnant with Leo’s baby.” “Please, you have to break up with him, please… hic… My baby can’t grow up without a father.” The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. Last time, at this exact moment, I was so busy trying to stop people from boarding that I’d ignored her call. But this time? This call was a gift from the heavens. I feigned a choked gasp of fury, then launched into a tirade against Jenna, making sure to step out of the stall and stand directly under one of the security cameras by the sinks. A few women who were washing their hands gave me strange looks. One even lingered to eavesdrop. Perfect. This was exactly what I wanted. After hanging up on Jenna, I immediately called Leo. He picked up on the second ring. “Grace! They’re closing the doors! What the hell are you doing?” he yelled, his voice frantic. I made my voice as cold as steel. “I’m not flying. Get off the plane. We’re going home.” For a split second, I heard something like relief in his voice. “I knew it. I knew something was wrong with the plane. Fine, not flying. You should have just said so.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “When did you and Jenna start screwing around behind my back? You two disgusting pigs! No wonder you put the deed in your name only! Do you know how much of my money went into renovating that house? Jenna just called me! We’re settling this today. The three of us. Face to face.” Before he could get a word in, I unloaded every grievance, every betrayal, every dirty little secret. The other end of the line went silent. “Leo! LEO! You cowardly piece of trash, are you even listening to me? Get your ass out here right now!” I was screaming. After a long pause, Leo finally spoke. “Grace, look, I can explain. But I have that urgent meeting at work. We can’t let our personal problems interfere with our jobs, right?” He was trying to deflect, trying to escape the mess he’d made. It didn’t matter. Soon, he wouldn’t have any messes to deal with at all. I pushed myself into full-blown hysterics. “Work? Who gives a damn about work! I’ll quit! I have never been so humiliated in my entire life! Get. Out. Here. Now.” I thought I heard a faint chuckle on his end. Was he recording this? To use it against me later, to prove I was unstable and unprofessional? To take my job? It didn’t matter. He would never get the chance. “Grace, I’m already on the plane. We’re about to take off. Let’s not talk about this now,” he said, his voice suddenly calm and dismissive. “Why don’t you go home and cool off. We’ll talk when you’re being rational.” Then he hung up before I could say another word. The entire airport was under surveillance. If I was going to put on a show, I had to see it through. I stormed out of the airport, calling our mutual friends on my way, sobbing about the affair. Once I was back in the city, I went straight to Jenna’s apartment building. I grabbed a meat cleaver I’d bought from a corner store and started hammering on her door. A neighbor peered out, her eyes wide, before quickly slamming her door shut. Probably calling the cops. Good. The bigger the scene, the better. Jenna, hiding inside, refused to open the door. “I’m warning you, Grace, I’ve already called the police!” she shrieked through the door. “You couldn’t give Leo a baby after all these years, and I got pregnant the first time we were together! His mother loves me! She said the house is mine! I’m the woman of the house now! Hahaha, the cops are here! You’re going to jail!” I ignored her, just kept pounding on the door. The nearest police station was only a few miles away. Soon, two uniformed officers arrived. I immediately dropped the cleaver and put on my best victim face. “Officers, that woman in there! She’s sleeping with my boyfriend in the house I paid for! And she’s pregnant!” The two cops exchanged a weary look, but they followed procedure, taking both of us down to the station. In the mediation room, Jenna was still arrogant, rubbing her belly and looking down her nose at me. “This is Leo’s baby,” she sneered. “He’s not going to abandon his own child. You might as well get used to being dumped.” Is that so? I thought. That baby is about to be fatherless. “You should just break up with him now,” she continued. “It’ll be less embarrassing for you in the end. His mother adores me. She gave me this gold bracelet the first time we met.” Jenna deliberately held up her wrist, showing off the bracelet. My eyes narrowed. It was mine. The one his mother had “lost.” Just then, another officer entered the room and whispered something to the two handling our case. Suddenly, all three of them were staring at me. I knew. The plane had crashed.

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Adam’s executive assistant hinted that the new girl wasn’t playing by the rules. I looked down at the résumé. Sophie Bell. A scholarship student from a program the Shaw Foundation had sponsored. Four years ago, clutching her university acceptance letter, she’d shown up at our door with a small gift basket to express her gratitude. Adam had turned her away with a cold shoulder. The timid girl with the neat bangs had blossomed into a poised young woman. No wonder he’d been coming home later and later from “client dinners.” But she wasn’t the only one with a hidden agenda. Just when my search for proof had hit a dead end, Sophie came to me in private, her voice choked with tears. “Mrs. Shaw, please… you have to help me. I can’t be used like this anymore…” 1 The girl in the résumé photo was pretty, with quiet, clear eyes that made you want to like her. What a waste it would be if she were really shameless enough to be the other woman. A message from Adam popped up on my screen. [Honey, got a client dinner tonight. I’ll be late. Get some rest, and don’t you dare stay up late.] Before I could reply, a new friend request appeared. The note read: [Mrs. Shaw, this is Sophie Bell, Mr. Shaw’s assistant.] So it begins. I accepted the request. [Good evening, Mrs. Shaw. So sorry to bother you. Mr. Shaw asked me to add you. He said I should let you know when he’s on his way, in case he’s had too much to drink.] [Thank you, Sophie. I appreciate you looking after him.] [Not at all, it’s my job.] Eleven o’clock. My usual bedtime, but tonight my phone felt welded to my hand. I was waiting. And right on cue, a message arrived. [Mrs. Shaw, are you still awake? Mr. Shaw is quite drunk. The driver and I are bringing him home now.] [I’m up. Thank you for your trouble. I’ll be waiting.] I watched from the doorway as Sophie and our driver helped a stumbling, barely coherent Adam into the house. Her brow was furrowed in a tight line, her slight frame straining under his weight. The moment she saw me, her eyes lit up with relief. “Mrs. Shaw… Mr. Shaw’s had a bit too much.” I moved to take her place, feeling her exhale as I slid my arm around my husband’s waist. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading out,” she said, her voice small. I nodded. “Wait,” I called out just as she reached the door. She paused, turning back with a questioning look. “It’s late. It’s not safe for a young woman to go home alone. Let the driver take you.” A pair of dimples appeared as she smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Shaw.” Adam clung to me, his words a drunken slur against my ear. “Clara, my love… I love you so much…” “Why did you drink so much? You’re going to hate yourself in the morning,” I murmured, guiding him towards the stairs. “Got you… so I’m not worried…” I told my best friend, Mia, about it the next day. “Have I lost my touch?” I wondered aloud. “I just don’t get a homewrecker vibe from this girl.” Mia let out a short, cynical laugh. “Oh, honey. You’ve been living the good life for so long you’ve forgotten what you’re capable of. This is textbook. Men are all the same. Just you wait. Before you know it, she’ll be posting passive-aggressive digs at you on Instagram.” I sighed, a heavy weight settling in my chest. Mia’s own husband, Leo, had been getting a little too friendly with his own assistant lately. She hadn’t found any concrete proof, but the cold war between them had been raging for weeks. Would Adam be the same? The man who pursued me for three years in college, the man who knelt at my dying mother’s bedside and swore to love and protect me for the rest of his life… was he just another cliché? I steadied myself. Wallowing wouldn’t solve anything. But a week passed, and Sophie’s social media remained disappointingly normal. Sunsets at the waterfront, brunch with college friends. Nothing. Aside from being Adam’s shadow at work, there was nothing, at least on the surface, to raise an alarm. This only made Mia more pessimistic. “You’ve got an advanced model on your hands,” she said grimly. “These new-generation mistresses have evolved. They’re not the type to shove the evidence in your face anymore.” I checked everything. The GPS logs in Adam’s car, his credit card statements. Nothing. Not a single anomaly. Had he really become that meticulous? 2 This intangible, suffocating uncertainty was worse than finding hard evidence. It felt like walking through a thick fog, blind and unnerved. I replayed the past few weeks in my mind, searching for any detail I might have missed. There was almost nothing. Adam was as attentive as ever, buying me things he thought I’d like without a second thought. The only strange thing was the necklace he’d given me last week. It was identical to one he’d bought me years ago. Men aren’t always sentimental about such things; it was plausible he’d just forgotten. But it had never happened before. One afternoon, I decided to surprise him and drove to the headquarters of Shaw Corp. But Adam wasn’t there. His executive assistant, Jenna—an old classmate of mine—pulled me aside, her voice a low whisper. “He left with Sophie. Said he was going to Leo’s firm to discuss a partnership, but I don’t buy it. There’s no partnership in the works with them right now. God knows where they really went.” Leo. Mia’s husband. If the two of them were in on this together, covering for each other, then a direct confrontation would only tip them off. I pulled out my phone. “Mia, I need you to do something for me.” Waiting for her to call back, I tried to keep my breathing even, but Jenna must have seen the color drain from my face. “Hey, don’t panic yet,” she said, her hand on my arm. “If it’s true, you’ve got more important things to focus on.” She was right. I don’t tolerate betrayal. If I found proof, the grief and heartbreak would have to wait. The divorce would be non-negotiable, and dividing our assets would be a war. Mia didn’t call back. She showed up in person. “Clara… something’s not right,” she said, her brow creased with worry. My stomach plummeted. What could be worse than confirming Adam was cheating? “Your husband is definitely there,” she began. “But the new girl, Sophie? She’s not with him. She’s just waiting in the lobby’s seating area. Leo saw me and thought I was there to check up on him, made a few snide remarks. But…” She trailed off, struggling to find the words. “I never saw Adam.” “What?” “He went to Leo’s company. You saw Sophie, you saw Leo, but you didn’t see Adam?” This wasn’t what I had expected. A powerful wave of unease washed over me. But didn’t this at least mean he wasn’t with Sophie, doing something sordid? “I left before Leo got too suspicious,” Mia continued. “Clara, what the hell is Adam playing at?” This was far more complex than I had imagined. When Adam came home that evening, his smile was as warm and gentle as ever. It was the same smile he’d had in college. He, who had always been so composed and confident, had thrown all decorum to the wind to chase me for three years, doing all sorts of ridiculous things that were completely out of character. Before him, we had both been the good kids, molded by our families, never having been in a real relationship. We were young when we married, growing together as he took over his family’s business and I opened my art gallery. After my mother passed, I’d drifted away from my father and his new family. In many ways, Adam had filled that void. “Clara.” He opened his arms and pulled me into a tight embrace, inhaling deeply at the crook of my neck. “Just showered?” I asked. “Mmmhmm.” He smelled clean, fresh. Not a hint of perfume, not a single foreign scent. His shirt was crisp, without a wrinkle. “I’ve been so busy lately, I feel bad I haven’t been home for dinner,” he murmured, his fingers gently tracing my jawline. “You’re not mad at me, are you?” “Am I that unreasonable? You’re the one working hard to provide for us.” While Adam was in the shower, I checked his phone. Still nothing. His chats were all work-related. His conversations with Sophie were sparse and professional—brief instructions, followed by a simple “Received.” 3 He came out of the bathroom, saw me with his phone, and chuckled. “My feed is just boring business news. Not like yours, full of artists and culture.” He sat beside me, draping an arm over my shoulder and planting a soft kiss on my cheek. We hadn’t been intimate in a while, and with his affectionate words, I expected things to progress. I lowered my gaze, waiting for his next move. Instead, he simply lay down and turned on his side. Doubt, humiliation, and a gnawing anxiety washed over me all at once. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. A few days later, Jenna messaged me. Adam had taken Sophie to Leo’s building again. This time, I went straight there myself. I spotted Sophie in the lobby, looking bored out of her mind. “Mrs. Shaw? What are you doing here?” she asked, her expression one of pure confusion. “Sophie, shouldn’t you be with Mr. Shaw instead of slacking off down here?” “No, no…” She waved her hands frantically, her face flushing with panic. “Mr. Shaw told me I didn’t need to go up, that he’d call me if he needed anything. I… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing.” She looked down, the picture of frustrated helplessness. My tone softened. “How long has this been going on?” Sophie hesitated, clearly unsure how much she was allowed to tell me about her boss’s affairs. “It’s okay,” I reassured her. “I’m just worried about him. He’s been so stressed lately, and I don’t know what kind of big deal requires him to come here so often.” She bit her lip. “It’s been about three months now. He doesn’t bring me every time. But when he does, I just sit here. I’d rather be at the office, at least I’d have work to do.” Before I left, I turned back to her. “Sophie, if you ever run into any trouble, you can come to me.” I asked Mia to keep a closer eye on things at Leo’s building. Her call came an hour later, her voice tight with excitement. “Clara! I saw Adam get off on the 27th floor!” “The 27th?” “A few floors in the tower are set up as corporate apartments, usually for visiting clients. I just found out the entire 27th floor was taken off the market three months ago. It’s been leased long-term by a single client.” All the seemingly unrelated details suddenly clicked into place, the weight of them pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. “Mia… can you get me the security footage?” The footage from the elevator bank and the 27th-floor hallway was damning. Over the past three months, Adam had appeared there nearly thirty times during work hours. Each time, he walked to the room at the end of the hall, entered a code, and went inside. The camera never saw who was in there. I watched the clips over and over, zooming in, searching. And then I saw it. In one video, just as the door was closing behind him.

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To defuse the bomb strapped to the hostage, I had to cut away every shred of her clothing. But my sweet, naive new wife decided to post about it online. She called me, sobbing, demanding to know why I couldn’t have at least left her underwear on. “I know you were saving her life, but doesn’t a girl’s dignity matter?” “There were so many cameras on her! How is she supposed to live with that? Couldn’t you have just found a blanket to cover her?” The story blew up. To control the public outrage, the department suspended me. Fine. I decided to clock out mentally. From now on, I would follow procedure to the letter. No more improvisation. No more going above and beyond. Then my wife’s mother was taken hostage in the city’s busiest downtown mall, strapped to the latest compound series bomb. And suddenly, my entire squad was in a panic. … “Ethan! Look what you’ve done!” The moment I walked through the door, my new wife, Lily, shoved her phone in my face, her eyes brimming with tears. On the screen was a picture of me at the bomb scene, tearing the clothes off the hostage. The angle was intentionally provocative, pure clickbait. “All my friends are asking me how my husband could strip a girl naked in front of everyone! What am I supposed to say? You’ve completely humiliated me!” she choked out, her voice thick with self-pity. I shrugged off my jacket, heavy with the smell of sweat and cordite, and tried to explain patiently. “That wasn’t a standard device, Lily. The trigger wires and pressure sensors were woven into the fabric, all over her body. If I didn’t get the clothes off, I couldn’t even start.” “But couldn’t you have left her underwear on?!” Lily’s composure shattered, and she started screaming. “I know you were saving her, but what about her dignity? With all those cameras, how is she supposed to face the world? Couldn’t you have found a blanket? Did you have to be so brutal, so crude?” I looked at her, and a weariness so profound it settled in my bones washed over me. I had no energy left to argue. It was pointless. The next day at the station, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Captain Miller called me into his office. He slammed a stack of printed-out online comments on his desk, his face a mask of barely suppressed fury. “Look at this! The entire internet is calling us brutes, saying we have no respect for hostage privacy!” He lit a cigarette, taking a long, angry drag. “Ethan, I know your style. You do things your own way. But we’re in the middle of a media firestorm. I need you to show some remorse, to give the public something.” He pushed a blank incident report form in front of me. “Write a formal apology. Admit that your handling of the situation was inappropriate, that your methods were excessive. Then you’re on temporary suspension, pending an investigation. We’ll let you back when this blows over.” I stared at the form, making no move to take it. I knew this was the golden opportunity my deputy, Mark Davis, had been waiting for. He’d always despised my unorthodox, “field-expedient” methods, constantly championing the “standardized procedures” he’d learned at some overseas seminar. Sure enough, a few days later, the official suspension order came down. I was temporarily reassigned from frontline duty. I went back to my office—which was more of a workshop, really, cluttered with my modified tools and research on non-standard explosives. I sat down at my computer and, in silence, began to permanently delete every file. All my personal research notes, my custom schematics, my insights on tool modification—gone, one by one. The only thing I left on the hard drive was the department-issued, standard-issue bomb disposal manual. A week later, at a mandatory all-hands meeting, the mood was somber. Captain Miller stood at the podium, his voice booming as he announced my suspension, repeatedly emphasizing the importance of “procedural integrity” and “humanitarian concern.” I sat in the corner, my face a blank slate. Then, his tone shifted. “And now, I’m pleased to announce that Lieutenant Mark Davis will be acting as interim squad leader!” Mark stood up, smoothing down his crisp uniform and clearing his throat. He walked to the stage, his eyes flicking in my direction. “Thank you for this vote of confidence,” he began, his voice oozing false humility. “I believe that every operation must be conducted within a framework of rules and humanity. We are a disciplined force, not savages. We save lives at all costs, but that cost should never be a hostage’s dignity.” His words were sanctimonious and aimed directly at me. A few of the newer guys looked indignant on my behalf. The veterans, the ones who’d walked through fire with me, said nothing. Mark’s first official act was to walk over to my workstation. He tapped on the desk, his chin tilted up in a gesture of superiority. “Ethan, per regulations, you need to turn over all specialized personal tools from your locker for the duration of your suspension. Here’s the key. Clean it out. Now.” His voice dripped with undisguised contempt. I didn’t say a word. I just silently opened the locker and placed my custom-milled tweezers, my specialized wire cutters, and my micro-endoscope on the desk. He watched with a smug grin. “From now on, this squad is going fully standardized. Your little ‘homemade’ toys are obsolete.” I looked up at him. “A question for you, Lieutenant. You encounter a device made with ball bearings suspended in industrial epoxy, glued directly to a hostage’s carotid artery. The manual says to use a chemical solvent, but the solvent will cause severe chemical burns and secondary injuries. What do you do?” Mark’s face froze. He stammered for a moment. “Well… then… then you follow the procedure in the manual! The manual is the result of countless proven cases. It’s the most scientific approach!” He had just exposed his total lack of adaptability, falling back on the only thing he knew: the rules. I thought of my mentor, years ago, the legendary EOD tech they called “Ghost Hand.” When he took me on against all regulations, he’d slapped my shoulder and said, “Kid, rules are dead things. People are alive. What I see in you is a spark that doesn’t fit in a box. That’s what matters.” Thinking of it now felt like a bitter joke. My new life of malicious compliance had begun. A few days later, a bank reported a standard-issue “Thor” model timed explosive. I was assigned to logistical support. When the on-site photos came through, I calmly opened my laptop, pulled up the standard-issue takedown schematic for the “Thor,” and emailed it to the tech on scene. An old teammate called me, his voice urgent. “Ethan, isn’t there a booby trap on the B2 wire in this thing? I swear you mentioned something about it once.” I spoke into the receiver, my voice flat and detached. “Report: according to the standard manual, the B2 line is a standard high-explosive detonator circuit. There are no special notations. Please proceed according to manual protocol.” I hung up. That day, for the first time in my career, I left the office the second the clock hit five. I didn’t go to my workshop to tinker with deadly devices. I went to a shooting range and burned through five full magazines. Meanwhile, Mark instituted an absurdly complex “Deployment Equipment Checklist.” It was over thirty pages long and required three separate cross-checks by two different people before and after every mission, with signed forms filed in triplicate. This new procedure added a solid fifteen minutes to our response time. The grumbling started quietly. “Is this guy nuts? By the time we finish his checklist, the hostage will be a crater.” “That chemical plant alarm last week? We were five minutes late because he insisted on procedure. It was almost a catastrophe.” “Armchair quarterback. He doesn’t know the first thing about the field.” One of the veterans came to me, venting his frustration, hoping I’d offer a solution. I just poured him a glass of water and said calmly, “Mark is the acting squad leader. We follow his orders. Everything by the book.” My complete disengagement, combined with Mark’s inept leadership, caused our squad’s efficiency and success rate to plummet. Simple calls that would have been routine were now turning into near-disasters. I knew they were waiting. Waiting for a real crisis to prove themselves. I filled out a request for my accumulated vacation time and placed it on Captain Miller’s desk. Thirty full days. His face darkened the moment he saw it. “Ethan, what the hell is this?” He snatched the form and threw it at me. The edge of the paper caught my cheek, stinging. “The department is short-staffed as it is. Are you taking this much time off just to spite me?” He lowered his voice, his words laced with threat. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing! This is a temper tantrum. You’re trying to blackmail the department! Well, let me tell you, we’ll get along just fine without you!” I didn’t speak. I just reached into my pocket and pulled out the officially sanctioned Post-Critical Incident Psychological Health Assessment Report. I spread it open on his desk and pointed to the final recommendation. “Captain, the official psych report concludes: ‘Subject is advised to take extended leave for rest and psychological counseling.’ This is a medically-advised, regulation-compliant leave request.” Miller’s face cycled through shades of red and white. He glared at me, utterly speechless. Finally, with a snort of contempt, he snatched up a pen and scribbled his signature on the form. As I turned to leave, the office door opened. My wife, Lily, walked in, arm-in-arm with Mark Davis, a dazzling smile on her face. When she saw me, her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Well, if it isn’t our great hero, Ethan. What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little criticism, so you’re running away? With a fragile ego like that, how are you supposed to protect the public?” Mark added with a smug look, “You don’t understand, Lily. Some guys come up the hard way, all instinct and no discipline. They crack under pressure. Not like us. We’ve had the best, most systematic training. We value stability.” I didn’t even bother to look at them. I walked out. At the end of the hall, one of the rookies caught up to me and pressed a bottle of water into my hand. “Ethan, man… I don’t know if I should be saying this,” he hesitated, then pushed on. “That girl you rescued? I heard she’s the only daughter of the CEO of Titan Microelectronics. Her family tried to find you, wanted to give you a huge reward, but Miller and Davis shut it all down. They blocked everything.” I nodded. I already knew. They couldn’t handle that kind of gratitude. I got on a bus headed for the reservoir out of town. We’d just cleared the city limits when my department-issued emergency comm crackled to life, buzzing frantically. It was Miller’s voice, distorted with panic. “All units, emergency alert! Major explosive threat at the Metroplex Mall downtown! Multiple hostages taken! All personnel, active and on leave, report for duty immediately!” I switched the comm off. A few seconds later, my personal cell phone rang. It was Miller. “Ethan! Get your ass back here right now!” he screamed. I replied calmly, “Captain, first, I am on approved medical leave. Second, per regulations, suspended personnel are prohibited from entering a Class-A hazardous scene.” I hung up the phone. I had just cast my line into the reservoir when Lily called. The second I answered, I was met with a torrent of hysterical sobs. “Ethan! You have to come back! My mom… my mom’s at the mall! The bomber strapped a device to her!” My blood ran cold. “Calm down. Tell me what happened.” “It’s her birthday! We were all supposed to meet there for dinner! Some psycho rushed in and grabbed her! Ethan, you have to save her! You’re the best bomb tech there is!” In the background, I could hear a cacophony of sirens and screaming. Meanwhile, in the temporary command post downtown, the tension was suffocating. Captain Miller stared at the bomb schematics being fed to the screen, his face ashen. It was a compound series bomb, unlike anything he’d ever seen. The structure was a bizarre, intricate nightmare, and the red numbers on the timer were counting down relentlessly. Mark stood beside him, clutching a tablet, his forehead beaded with sweat. His so-called “standard procedures” were now a pathetic joke. Trying to deflect blame, Miller hinted to the senior commanders who had arrived on scene, “This device’s structure is… highly irregular. Ethan Cole has done a lot of personal research into non-standard explosives. It’s possible… he might know something about this. But he’s always been a loner, keeps his cards close to his chest, never reports his findings.” Just then, another urgent report came in. “Command, we’ve found a secondary device in the mall’s central ventilation system! It’s linked to the primary bomb on the hostage!” A collective gasp went through the command post. It meant that disabling one would likely trigger the other. Desperate to prove himself, Mark stepped forward. “I can do it! I can use standard procedure to jam the secondary device’s signal transmitter!” Ignoring the warnings of the veteran techs, he went to work. His efforts were not only a failure, but they also tripped a hidden trap set by the bomb maker. The timer on the main bomb suddenly skipped ahead, its countdown speed doubling instantly. The color drained from Mark’s face. As a dead silence fell over the command post, a young technician’s eyes suddenly lit up. “I remember! Ethan designed a custom jammer, the ‘Ghost.’ He said it could sever the base logic connection between any two linked electronic devices! The prototype should be in our gear truck!” It was their last hope. Mark, seeing a chance to redeem himself, sprinted to the truck and found the silver briefcase. Ignoring the technician’s guidance, he booted up the Ghost jammer himself. “These connectors aren’t up to the latest international standards,” he muttered, “The frequency should be set to this band.” He manually input the frequency parameters he believed were correct. CRACKLE— A wisp of blue smoke curled up from the briefcase. The core chip was fried. Their last hope was gone. The timer was running out. The link couldn’t be broken. The only specialized tool that could have worked was destroyed. The command post was plunged into absolute despair. The on-scene commander made a split-second decision. He used a secure line to contact the most legendary EOD expert in the military, the old man known only by the callsign “Ghost Hand,” begging for remote technical assistance. The situation was relayed in a frantic rush. On the other end of the line, the old man was silent for a long moment. Then he spoke one sentence. “With standard methods, the hostage is dead. That Wild Fox Cascade… I only ever taught it to one man.” “He should be on your team. His name is Ethan Cole.”

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The day our company went public was the day the cops led me away in handcuffs for embezzlement. My wife’s old flame became the new CEO, and I was sentenced to three years in prison. My little sister, my only family, died of a broken heart trying to clear my name. After I got out, I heard a conversation on my car’s dashcam that shattered my world. It was my wife, Sophie, talking to her assistant. “It was you who embezzled the funds. You who framed Aiden and sent him to prison. Do you ever regret it?” “Not for a second,” Sophie’s voice was ice. “If Rick and I were never meant to be husband and wife, then the least I could do was give him the best of everything. A life free of worry. Think of it as my twenty-fifth birthday present to him.” “But the company was Aiden’s to begin with! He has nothing now.” “And you wanted me to just stand by and watch others tear Rick down?” 1 There was a pause. “As for Aiden,” she continued, “he grew up tough. What’s it to him to have a little less? Besides, I married him. I have the rest of my life to make it up to him.” “Then why not clear his name now? Let people know the truth.” “The last time he went out to buy me tampons, people pointed and called him a monster who abandoned his wife and drove his sister to her grave. He was shaking so hard he pissed himself in public.” “He was brutalized in prison. His right hand is permanently damaged, and he has severe depression. If you told the truth, it might give him some peace.” Sophie’s sudden shout made even me, just listening to the recording, jump. “Never! Everyone in Northwood City knows Aiden is a prodigy on Wall Street. If he walked out of there clean, where would that leave Rick? Absolutely not. My Rick has to be number one. No one will ever drag him down.” “So you’d rather let your own husband live in darkness? Let him hurt himself day after day with no one to comfort him? Have you forgotten his sister, her face pale as she knelt and begged you?” “Aren’t you afraid that if Aiden finds out the truth, he’ll destroy everything you’ve built?” A soft, chilling laugh. “He won’t. Aiden only has eyes for me. We’re very happy now.” The blood drained from my face. I couldn’t breathe. I saved the recording. I thought Sophie was the light of my life. I never imagined she was the source of all my suffering. She was the one who pushed me into the world of high finance, the one who gave me the resources to succeed. I thought she was my muse. But she only built me up so high to make the fall that much more devastating. If I hadn’t needed to replace the dashcam’s memory card, I might have spent the rest of my life living under the same roof as my nemesis. I stared at my numb right hand, a sickening suspicion coiling in my gut. I was so lost in the horror of it all that I didn’t even notice Sophie wrapping her arms around me from behind. “What’s wrong, Aiden?” Her voice was sweet, concerned. “Why are you crying again?” “Sophie,” I rasped, my voice cracking. “Why can’t I feel my hand?” My right hand was a mess of fresh, bloody cuts, but there was no sensation. She moved with practiced ease, retrieving the first-aid kit from behind the door. She gently disinfected the wounds, applied ointment, and bandaged them with care. “Oh, Aiden. Why do you keep hurting yourself?” “Every time I open my phone, I see them… calling me a monster who abandoned his family. I didn’t, Sophie. I swear I didn’t. Please… please, tell them the truth, won’t you?” Her hands paused for a fraction of a second. I saw it then—a flicker of disgust in her eyes before it was gone. “Then just turn off your phone. Don’t look,” she said, her tone hardening slightly. “I’ve told you so many times, I don’t care that you have a record. I don’t care that you’re hurt.” She softened her voice again, a masterclass in manipulation. “I’ve taken ninety-nine steps toward you, Aiden. Can’t you just take one toward me? When you hurt, I hurt.” She let out a choked sob, a performance worthy of an Oscar. “It’s Crystal’s memorial in a few days. I’ll take you to see her.” Even knowing the recording was real, hearing her say my sister’s name was like a knife twisting in my heart. I turned my head away, unable to look at her. “You should rest. I’ll go get your medication.” 2 After Sophie handed over the company, we moved into her family’s old estate, where I endured the daily scorn of her parents. They never missed an opportunity to berate me, lamenting how their brilliant daughter was now wasting her life washing and cooking for a “cripple.” Today was no different. Sophie’s father barged into the room, his eyes immediately fixing on my bandaged hand. “You useless cripple. How is it that something like this didn’t just finish you off?” I met his venomous gaze and spoke calmly. “I want to divorce Sophie. I don’t want to be a burden on her life anymore.” I added, “And I need the papers finalized as soon as possible.” The triumphant smirk on his face vanished, replaced by a scowl. “You dare make demands? If Sophie hadn’t begged us not to divorce you, do you think you’d still be living in this house? Back then, if she hadn’t threatened to kill herself just to marry you, someone like you wouldn’t even be fit to clean the toilets here.” He jabbed a fat finger at me. “A wreck like you should have been out of my daughter’s life long ago. You’ll get your divorce in thirty days. The moment you have it, you get the hell out of my house.” He stood there, his big belly practically hanging over my bed, ranting. I could only clench my fists under the covers. Bang. The door slammed shut. While I was in prison, her family had sent divorce papers several times. I never received them. I later heard it was because Sophie had threatened suicide, and I’d believed it was some grand, romantic gesture. How naive. The truth was, she was terrified that if we divorced, I’d get back on my feet and threaten Rick’s position. As I drifted into a medicated sleep, the familiar scent of herbs filled my senses. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, a soft voice urging me to wake up and take my medicine. It felt like my mother’s touch. But I couldn’t wake up. The next morning, I had just made it downstairs when I saw Rick sitting across from Sophie. She looked incredibly tense. I ignored them and headed for the kitchen to get some breakfast. “Aiden,” Rick suddenly stood up, his voice trembling as he reported to me like a subordinate. “I was just asking Sophie about some company matters.” He subtly moved to stand behind her, his eyes welling with nervous tears. He’d been terrified of me ever since he took over the company. “If… if you don’t want to see me, I can go.” I didn’t answer him, just poured myself a glass of water. Sophie, however, became animated. “It’s fine, Rick, Aiden doesn’t mind. Why don’t you stay with us for a few days? We can go over the other details properly.” Rick glanced at me nervously. “Would Aiden be okay with that?” The hand holding the glass trembled. A sharp pain lanced through my heart. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, my voice flat. “This is her family’s house. It’s not my place to say.” That’s right. This was their home. I was the outsider. Besides, I would be leaving soon anyway. Sophie flashed a satisfied smile. I didn’t look at her again and walked straight out the door. She blocked my path. “Where are you going?” “To see Crystal.” “Is that Aiden’s sister?” Rick’s voice piped up from behind her. “Sophie, I’d like to go too. We were classmates, after all.” He gave a small tug on Sophie’s sleeve. Without so much as a glance in my direction, she made the decision for me. I was shoved into the car, and I stopped fighting. I ignored the two of them. All I wanted was to see my sister. 3 I held the bouquet in my left hand, gently placing the flowers on Crystal’s gravestone. Suddenly, my face felt wet. Tears were streaming down my cheeks without me even realizing it. Crystal’s photo smiled back at me, her eyes seeming to look right through the picture and into my soul. “Crystal,” I whispered, my voice thick. “You have to believe me. Your brother has lived his life with a clear conscience.” Growing up, it was always just the two of us against the world. She was the only family I had left. And I wasn’t even there to see her one last time. “Let me tell you the truth, Aiden,” Rick’s voice, slick with venom, cut through my grief from behind. “You know, we were originally going to feed your sister’s body to the dogs.” My blood ran cold. “Do you know why? Because Sophie was afraid the police would trace it back to me. Before she died, your sister kept screaming ‘no’ under me. I’d already given her a double dose of the stuff… Still, there’s nothing quite like the first time, is there?” His words, each one a hammer blow, struck my mind. My scalp tingled, and a raw, agonizing pain tore through my chest. If it weren’t for you, if Sophie hadn’t found me, none of this would have happened to us. It was him. He killed Crystal. My reason evaporated. I spun around and threw a punch. But Sophie appeared out of nowhere, blocking my fist. She returned my punch with a vicious slap that echoed through the silent cemetery. “Aiden, how dare you hit him?” Her voice dripped with disappointment. “I don’t care that you’ve been to prison. I don’t care that you’re a cripple. But how can you resort to violence?” “In front of your sister’s grave? Do you want her to never rest in peace?” She kicked the flowers I had placed, stomping on them again and again. “Since prison clearly didn’t teach you anything, since you can’t get rid of these thuggish habits, maybe a little time in the basement will help you learn.” Suddenly, several large men in black suits appeared behind me. They blindfolded me and dragged me to the family estate’s basement, where they began to beat me mercilessly. The clubs they used were studded with thorns, each blow tearing into my flesh. My numb right hand was mangled again, a bloody mess. Blood poured from my left, staining the concrete floor a deep crimson. Through the haze of pain, I heard them talking. “Doesn’t the Missus love this cripple the most?” “Are you kidding? She only loves Mr. Rick! The way she looks at him… she wouldn’t let anyone else even touch him.” Love. I had stopped hoping for love long ago. So why did my heart still ache, as if it were being carved out with a dull knife? Rick came down to the basement. The timid, teary-eyed act was gone. He walked straight up to me. He stomped his foot down hard on my bleeding left hand. The barely-clotted wounds burst open, and I cried out in pain. “Aiden, you should know by now that Sophie has only ever loved me. So why aren’t you dead yet? After all this, how are you still alive?” He leaned in close, his voice a hateful whisper. “If it weren’t for you, Sophie and I would never have been apart for so long.” “I was this close to being crowned the Prince of Wall Street, to inheriting billions and marrying Sophie. And then you showed up. You ruined everything! Now I’m stuck with this shell of a company, and I can never set foot in my own family’s house again.” His face contorted with rage. “Tell me, why won’t you just die?” The blood from my left hand was turning black at the edges. My vision blurred. So that was it. Sophie only got close to me to tear me down, to clear the path for her one true love. I already knew, so why did the pain still feel so sharp, so real? “Rick! Rick…” Sophie’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs. Rick’s expression shifted instantly, a dark, cunning look I’d never seen before. He grabbed a knife from one of the goons, plunged it into his own thigh, and then draped my bloody right hand over the handle. “Sophie! Sophie… I’m down here!” he cried out, his voice filled with fake terror. Sophie practically flew down the stairs. She shoved my hand away and cradled him. “You really are hopeless,” she snarled at me, her eyes filled with pure hatred. “After all I’ve done for you. You’re nothing but a worthless animal.” A doctor rushed in and did a quick examination. “Ms. Sophie, he’s lost a lot of blood. He might need a transfusion, but getting a match from the blood bank will take at least an hour…” The doctor hadn’t even finished his sentence. Sophie’s eyes, cold and murderous, locked onto mine. There was no hesitation. “Use Aiden’s blood.” 4 They tied me to a makeshift operating table. A thick needle pierced the vein in my left arm. The pain from my battered body was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I don’t know how long I served as a human blood bag before I passed out. When I woke up, Sophie was feeding me medicine. My left arm was bandaged, but I couldn’t lift it. It felt just as dead as my right. “You’re awake? Here, drink this.” I turned my head away. Sensing my anger, she softened her tone. “Alright, making you give blood was my fault. I apologize. But you have to take your medicine, even if you’re angry. Your body can’t handle any more stress.” I remained still. With an exasperated sigh, she stood up, pinched my cheeks to force my mouth open, and poured the bitter liquid down my throat. As the herbal concoction hit my stomach, my consciousness began to fade again. “He drank it all.” That was her voice. “Good. Then we can begin.” Rick’s. “Your leg…” “It’s just a scratch. You know how strong I am. You’d better give me a baby this year.” Sophie’s playful protest faded away, replaced by the unmistakable sounds of their lovemaking. The sounds drifted into my ears, a final, cruel torture. I wanted to wake up, to scream, to demand the divorce they owed me. But my eyes wouldn’t open. I was startled awake by the shrill ringing of my phone. Unable to lift it with either hand, I managed to hit the speaker button with my knuckle. “I’ve got the divorce certificate. Now get the hell out of our lives.” It was Sophie’s father. It was the best news I’d heard in years. The pain in my body seemed to lessen at his words. “I’ll be gone immediately. I won’t trouble you again.” Finally. I was leaving. And I would take back everything I had lost. “Trouble who? Leaving where?” Sophie walked in, holding a glass of water. “Nothing. Just listening to an audiobook,” I lied. The suspicion in her eyes faded, replaced by something else. “Aiden, Rick wants to thank you for the blood. He’s invited you to a big dinner tomorrow to show his gratitude.” I looked at my lifeless left hand and managed a twisted smile. “Sure.” Sophie looked like she was about to jump for joy. “Great! I’ll go help him with the arrangements.” I dragged my broken body to find her father and collected the divorce certificate. Then, I immediately booked the next flight to Australia. I didn’t see Sophie for the rest of the afternoon, and the relief was intoxicating. I asked the butler to deliver the divorce certificate to the restaurant where they were having their “thank you” dinner. Then I took a cab and left the city behind. I had no luggage. There was nothing from that life I wanted to take with me. Nothing except my sister, and I didn’t have the power to do that yet. “Crystal,” I vowed, watching Northwood City shrink below me. “Don’t worry. Your brother will get justice for you, even if it’s the last thing I do.” A sense of euphoria washed over me as the city disappeared. It was over. I was heading toward a new life, one that belonged only to me.

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For three months, I practically lived at the office while pregnant, pushing my team to the brink. We survived on IV drips and held meetings at midnight. But on signing day, my new assistant used security footage of my bathroom breaks to fire me for “slacking off.” I brought the termination to my husband, the CEO. He coldly cited company policy—a five-break daily limit—and backed her decision to maintain her authority. “Now you can focus on the baby,” he said. I spotted lace lingerie with snowflake embroidery under his sofa. A bitter laugh escaped me. I tossed the notice on his desk, walked out, and called our biggest competitor. “Do you limit bathroom breaks?” I asked. “If not, I’ll be in your office tomorrow with a new client to sign.” 1. “Elara, are you messing with me?” On the other end of the line, Marcus Thorne’s voice was laced with disbelief. “I’m not joking,” I said calmly. “If you agree, I’m bringing the Sterling Group account with me. We sign tomorrow. Once it’s done, your company will be the biggest player in Northgate City.” Marcus hesitated. “Did you and Leo have a fight? Are you just using me to make him angry?” He continued, his voice softening. “Everyone in the industry knows you’re the engine of that company. You’re the one who carries all the weight for Leo.” “You sold the apartment your parents left you so that kid from nowhere could start his business. You’ve landed every major deal they’ve ever had.” “For the Sterling account, you worked yourself so sick you were fainting from morning sickness. Your team wanted to take you to the ER, but you refused because you were afraid of delaying the signing. You just…” I froze, wondering how he knew all that. As he finished, a bitter smile touched my lips. He was right. Everyone knew how much I’d sacrificed for Leo. I once believed we were building an empire together, from scratch. Today, that beautiful dream was shattered. Leo and I had no connections, just two kids from a small town with big dreams, fighting our way to the top in the big city. We started with nothing and finally, painstakingly, built our own company. Six months ago, I told him I was pregnant. His hands were shaking with excitement. But when I suggested we finally make it official and get married, he fell silent for a long time. “Elara,” he finally said, “once we land the Sterling Group contract, we’ll be the industry leader. Our dream of making it in this city will finally be real.” “Don’t you want to walk down the aisle at the height of our success?” “Let’s just wait until the Sterling contract is signed. Then we’ll get married, okay?” I agreed. Yesterday, Sterling confirmed. The signing was scheduled. I was so overwhelmed with joy that I stepped out of the office and promptly fainted on the sidewalk. I was rushed to the hospital. The moment I woke up, I hurried back to the office to finalize the contract. But my key card wouldn’t work. Facial recognition failed. I’d been blacklisted. I managed to get a friendly intern to let me in, only to find all my personal effects dumped in a trash heap. My wedding photo with Leo was covered in muddy footprints, my smiling face scribbled over with a black marker. And sitting at my desk, my desk, was the new assistant—Crystal Snow. She was scrolling through her phone, her long, red nails tapping the screen. She pulled up a video file: three months of security footage of me going to the bathroom. “New company rule,” she said with a smirk. “No more than five bathroom breaks per shift, five minutes max each time.” “You’ve been going more than ten times a day. Who knows if you were actually working or just slacking off.” “If everyone behaved like you, how would this company function?” I was baffled. Since when was this a rule? I went straight to Leo’s office and told him everything. He was dismissive. “I hired Crystal from a top-tier firm for a reason. Her rules are based on their best practices. Of course, we have to follow them.” I fought to keep my voice even. I told him I was pregnant, that the stress and workload were making my morning sickness unbearable, that the bathroom trips were a necessity. He waved his hand impatiently. “That’s just your weak constitution. Don’t use it as an excuse.” “Maybe I make an exception for your morning sickness today. But what about tomorrow? What’s to stop anyone from faking a stomach ache after slacking off in the bathroom, demanding I look the other way? How am I supposed to manage that?” My face flushed with anger, my eyes stinging with tears. In his eyes, my pregnancy was no different from a case of diarrhea. Before I could argue further, Crystal walked in, phone in hand. “Elara,” she said, her tone dripping with false sympathy, “the new policy is to streamline our workforce. That means pregnant employees are the first to go. I was trying to do you a favor by not firing you outright, given your relationship with Leo.” “But you’ve broken the rules too many times. If I don’t act, no one will take me seriously. How can I lead the team?” She looked me up and down. “Besides, you’re a high-risk pregnancy. You should be at home resting. Running to the bathroom all day to goof off not only kills productivity, it makes the whole company look unprofessional.” I stared at her, my voice cold. “My pregnancy and my bathroom trips didn’t stop me from landing the Sterling contract for this company.” “And I’m the Vice President. No new rule should be implemented without my approval.” Her eyes welled up with tears. Leo slammed his hand on the desk. “That’s enough!” He saw the shock and hurt in my eyes and his scowl deepened. “This rule came from me. If you have a problem, take it up with me. You’re fired. Stop pulling rank on her.” “And don’t you dare use that contract as leverage,” he snarled. “Crystal told me everything. You were in the bathroom all day while the rest of the team did your work for you.” “If being pregnant and working is so stressful that you have to hide in the bathroom, then Crystal firing you so you can rest at home is a favor! You should be thanking her, not bullying her in front of her direct supervisor!” His jaw tightened. “Now, apologize to Crystal.” Apologize? I took a long, hard look at this man, my partner of ten years, from college dorms to the corporate world. I remembered when a key developer challenged my authority, simply because I was a woman. Leo, without a second thought, fired him on the spot, disregarding the critical tech the man controlled. He held my hand in front of the entire company and said, “Elara is my wife, and she is my partner. Disrespecting her is disrespecting me. And this company has no place for anyone who disrespects women.” That speech went viral. We were lauded as the best startup of the year. That was only a year ago. Now, he was letting some new assistant disrespect me, discriminate against me for being pregnant. I took a deep breath, ready to unleash a decade of fury, when my eyes caught it again. The lace underwear under the sofa cushion. The tiny, embroidered snowflakes. It wasn’t mine. A wave of nausea and disgust washed over me. I stumbled, and as I looked up, I saw Crystal watching me with a look of pure triumph. It was hers. Suddenly, all the words caught in my throat felt meaningless. I pulled my employee ID from my pocket and tossed it onto the sofa. “You want to fire me? Fine. As per my contract, a severance of 2N+1. If that money isn’t in my account by tonight, I have no problem taking this to arbitration. We’ll see who’s embarrassed and paying fines then.” “And one more thing,” I added, my voice ringing with cold finality. “I landed that project. You fire me, you can kiss the Sterling Group goodbye.” I watched the color drain from their faces, then turned and walked out with a scornful laugh. The first thing I did was call Marcus. They could have their sordid affair. They were not getting the project I bled for. Marcus’s voice came back over the line, firm and resolute. “I don’t care if you’re using me to get back at him. I’m taking this seriously. You come to my company, the VP position is yours. And if you’re worried about managing work with the baby, I’ll help you.” “That won’t be necessary,” I said with a small smile. For some reason, his voice seemed to drop a little at my answer. “Alright. See you at the signing tomorrow.” I hung up and went home to pack. Thank God we never got married. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with a divorce. But the baby… I placed a hand on my belly. After a moment, my gaze hardened. Better to have no father than to have one like Leo. I started packing as soon as I got home. In the corner of our study was a storage box with a note taped to it: “Leo’s Treasures – Do Not Touch.” It was the box where he kept every gift I’d ever given him, even used mugs and hair ties. “One day,” he’d said, “we’ll show all of this to our son. Proof of our love story.” I wanted a clean break, but seeing that box made my heart ache. I opened it. And I froze. It wasn’t filled with my old things. It was a sordid collection of toys, lubricants, and scraps of fetish lingerie. My head exploded. On the desk, Leo’s laptop was open. His chat with Crystal was still on the screen, new messages popping up: “Of course I defended you. If you hadn’t been here to help me… de-stress… these past few months, I would have lost my mind.” “Wear the bunny costume tonight. A little pre-celebration for the signing tomorrow, okay?” My vision went black at the edges. Clenching my jaw, I transferred the entire chat history and all the videos to my phone. It wasn’t enough. My eyes landed on a bag of fresh peaches on the counter. I grabbed a handful and rubbed them vigorously all over the lingerie and toys in the box, making sure the microscopic fuzz got into every crevice. You two like to play? Then play hard. Just as I finished packing and was about to leave, the front door opened. Leo walked in. He saw my suitcase and froze, then broke into a grin. “What’s this? I say a few harsh words and you’re running away from home?” “I was just being professional. You’re my wife, so I have to be even stricter with you. It’s the only way to get the staff to respect the rules.” “Alright, stop sulking. I bought your favorite fish. We’re celebrating the signing tomorrow.” Before I could speak, Crystal waltzed in behind him. “Oh, sister-in-law, I don’t like it steamed. Make it spicy, okay?” “That’s right,” Leo chimed in. “Crystal likes bold flavors. Make it good.” He added, “Poor thing’s been working so hard she hasn’t eaten all day. Not like you, taking the day off to rest.” He tried to shove the bag of fish into my hands and push me toward the kitchen. My face went cold. I threw the fish back at him. “I’m not cooking.” His expression darkened instantly. He grabbed my arm. “What the hell is wrong with you? Has the pregnancy made you stupid? Don’t you understand basic courtesy?” “You embarrassed Crystal at the office today! I brought her here specifically so you could make her a nice dinner as an apology, and this is how you act?” “Leo, it’s okay,” Crystal interjected, the perfect martyr. “Elara’s carrying your child. It’s normal for her to be a little moody. I can handle it.” “Moody doesn’t give her the right to be a tyrant!” Her words only fueled his anger. He dragged me to the kitchen, shoved me inside, and locked the door. “You’re not coming out until you’ve cooked dinner!” I fell hard. A searing pain shot through my abdomen. A cold sweat broke out all over my body. I scrambled to the door, pounding on it with what little strength I had. “Leo! Let me out! My stomach… I fell… take me to the hospital…” I heard Crystal’s saccharine voice from the other side. “Leo, I think Elara’s just angry I’m here. She’s probably just using the baby to guilt you. Maybe I should just go?” The footsteps outside paused. Then, Leo’s voice, colder than ice: “I ask you to make one meal, and you threaten me with the baby’s safety? You’re being irrational.” I couldn’t tell what hurt more, my heart or my stomach. I just kept pleading, my voice growing weaker. “Fine. Don’t cook. Come on, Crystal. We’ll go to a Michelin-star restaurant.” “Oh, Leo, you’re the best~” The pain was so intense I could barely speak. “I’m not lying… It really… hurts…” The only response was the slam of the front door. My world went black. I woke up in a hospital room. And sitting by my bed was Marcus. He saw my eyes open and let out a huge sigh of relief. “I called you a dozen times, you didn’t pick up. I was terrified. I thought after your fight, Leo might have… done something. So I came to check on you.” “I found you passed out on the kitchen floor. The doctor said you just fell and bruised your stomach. The baby is okay.” I gave a weak, bitter smile. He wasn’t wrong. Leo had done something. I thanked him, my voice hoarse, and reached for my phone. I needed to contact the Sterling Group and let them know I was now with Marcus’s firm. But my screen was flooded with texts from Crystal. And a video. “Look at you, the washed-up housewife. So what if you’re carrying Leo’s baby? He still kicked you out and gave your job and your office to me.” “Leo told me he’s sick of you. All you do is work, work, work. No fun at all. And you stink now that you’re pregnant. He prefers someone young and fun like me. Hehe, maybe it won’t be long before I’m taking your place at home, too.” “Oh, and he said a housewife has no business being the project lead for Sterling. Don’t bother showing up to the signing tomorrow. I’ll go in your place. Save everyone from having to look at your bloated, pregnant body.” I stared at her taunts, my face a blank mask. Before I could even process my anger, Marcus exploded. “Who the hell does she think she is, talking to you like that!” He stared at me, his eyes red with fury. “And you’re not even angry? Do you really love him that much? Enough to let this… this trash walk all over you?” He looked away, his voice thick with emotion. “Elara, if I had a wife like you, I’d treat you like a queen. I would never, ever let anyone hurt you.” I calmly typed a reply to Crystal: “You can have the trash. You’re not touching my project.” I looked up at Marcus, confused. “What did you just say?” He gritted his teeth. “Nothing. I just said, I’m your boss now. They try to steal your project, I’ll destroy them.” I nodded. “Good.” The doctor warned that I needed complete bed rest, or I could lose the baby. I immediately requested three months of maternity leave from Marcus, to begin right after the signing. As I was leaving the maternity ward, I ran into a couple frantically scratching themselves, their skin covered in angry red welts. It was Leo and Crystal. When Leo saw me, his face went pale. He rushed toward me. “Elara, did you do something to my things in the study? What did you put in there? The doctor can’t find the allergen, we can’t stop itching!” I knew immediately. They’d used the peach-fuzzed lingerie. I feigned ignorance. “What things? Describe them to me. Maybe it’ll jog my memory.” His face cycled through shades of red and purple, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. I smirked and pulled out my phone, showing him the chat logs and the videos Crystal had sent me. “Oh, you mean this bunny costume? I was eating a peach yesterday. Some of the fuzz must have fallen on it by accident.” “You!” he hissed, his face livid. “You’re insane! You went through my laptop? You had someone film us? What are you trying to do?” He pointed a trembling, rash-covered finger at me. “You did this to us! I won’t let you get away with it! Get on your knees and apologize to me and Crystal right now! And sign the Sterling project over to her!” “Or the wedding is off, and you can be an unemployed single mother!” I looked at him, my expression cold, and dialed the wedding planner. “Yes, that’s right. The wedding is canceled.” I hung up and faced Leo’s apoplectic glare. “For the past ten years, I was blind,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I mistook a piece of trash like you for a treasure.” “But my eyes are open now. I’m happy to give you up and cancel the wedding. But there is no way in hell I’m handing over my clients and the Sterling contract I fought for tooth and nail.” I added softly, “You should probably start thinking about how you’re going to explain losing the Sterling deal to your investors. Oh, and don’t forget my severance pay.” I turned to leave, but Leo lunged forward, grabbing my arm. “I was wrong, Elara! You know how stressed I’ve been! And with you pregnant, I was afraid to touch you, I didn’t want to hurt the baby… I just… I couldn’t help myself…” His voice was a desperate, pleading whine. “We were drunk, it was an accident! She promised it wouldn’t affect us! We agreed it was just until you gave birth, then I’d be completely devoted to you and our child!” I pulled my lips into a sneer. “And you think I’d believe that?” I glanced at my phone. The signing was about to start. I looked up at the man I had loved for a decade. “Can’t we just part ways peacefully, Leo? I’m only taking what’s mine. I’m not trying to ruin your company.” His face was ashen. “But I don’t want to lose you,” he mumbled. “I never imagined losing you.” I gave him one last, deep look. “When you were doing all of this, did you ever once stop to think how much it would hurt me? If you had, even for a second, you would have known I’d leave you. You know my personality.” His lips moved, but before he could speak, I started walking away. He scrambled after me. “I was wrong! Elara, please! Give me one more chance! For our child’s sake! Just one chance! If you don’t want me seeing Crystal, I’ll pay her off, I’ll send her away!” “And you can come back to work! After the baby is born, I’ll create a new position for you…” I shook him off, my patience gone. Suddenly, a car screeched around the corner, heading straight for me. I had no time to react. The impact sent me flying. Pain exploded through my body. I hit the pavement hard. A pool of blood began to spread out from beneath me. My body convulsed in agony. I reached a trembling hand toward Leo. “Help me,” I choked out. “Save the baby.” Leo’s face was sheet-white. He started to move toward me, but then Crystal stumbled out of the driver’s seat, crying, and threw herself into his arms. “Leo, what do I do?” she wailed. “I saw you talking, and she was going to leave with the project… I was just so anxious, I wanted to follow her… I think I hit the gas instead of the brake!” “I don’t want to go to jail! Leo, please, help me!” I writhed on the ground, the pain unbearable. “Leo…” I begged him, my voice a broken whisper. “That’s your child… You can’t just let our baby die.” A flicker of conflict crossed his face. Then, his expression hardened. He took Crystal’s hand and turned to the police officer who was just arriving on the scene. “Officer, I’m her husband. We had an argument. She got upset and ran into the street. It wasn’t this young lady’s fault.” He then knelt beside me, his voice low and urgent. “The baby’s gone, Elara. We can’t ruin an innocent girl’s life over this.” “Think of this as compensation for forcing Crystal to leave. And since you can’t make it to the signing now, let me and Crystal handle it for you. We’ll sign the contract.” “After this, I promise, I’ll come home. I’ll be good to you.” “Leo!” I screamed, my eyes burning with hatred. “You bastard! You will regret this!” A paramedic tried to pull him away, urging him to sign the consent forms for my emergency treatment. But he was already helping Crystal up, turning his back on me. “Sorry, we have an important meeting. Just let her lie in the ER for a bit. I’ll be back to sign the papers later.” And with that, they got in another car and drove away. The pain finally consumed me, and I passed out. Crystal, dressed in a brand-new designer gown, walked into the Sterling Group’s conference room on Leo’s arm, her head held high. One of the Sterling executives looked around, confused. “Where’s Ms. Elara? I thought she was the project lead on this.” Leo answered calmly, “Elara was terminated for gross misconduct. Crystal will be taking over the project.” The executive was stunned. “What? You fired her? Who’s our point of contact then?” “Crystal, of course,” Leo said, looking at her with a doting smile. “We owe this success to Crystal. Her new policies streamlined our operations and optimized our staff, which is what allowed us to land this deal. With such a talented new project lead, I’m confident we’ll deliver even better results for Sterling.” Crystal puffed out her chest, her face flushed with victory. “That’s right. I won’t let Leo down. I’ll achieve even greater things than Elara ever did.” Across the table, the head of the Sterling delegation stood up, his face an icy mask. “I’m sorry, but we signed on for this project because of Ms. Elara, and Ms. Elara alone. If she is no longer with your company, then I see no reason to continue this partnership. The deal is off.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384889”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

A picture surfaced of my girlfriend of five years, award-winning actress Ava Stone, spending the night with a mysterious man. To protect this man, an actor named Ethan Reed, she posted an intimate photo of them on her social media, officially confirming their relationship. Her caption read: “Waiting for the leaves to fall, for the winter wind, for the autumn fireworks, and for a better us. From start to finish, I have only ever loved one person.” I stared at the photo, at the man whose face was a near-perfect mirror of my own, and a chill spread through me, cold and absolute. All these years, I had been nothing but a stand-in. Ava called me almost immediately. “Ethan just returned to the country; we can’t let his reputation take a hit,” she explained, her voice rushed. “This is just for work, a PR move. Don’t take it seriously.” I replied, my own voice flat, “It’s fine. I understand.” My lack of reaction seemed to confuse her. “You’re not jealous today?” she asked, a note of suspicion in her tone. … Less than thirty minutes after she hung up, Ava was home. I expected her to continue her explanation, but she didn’t. She acted as if nothing had happened, handing me a beautifully wrapped gift. “See if you like it. I picked it out especially for you.” It was a Patek Philippe watch. Expensive. I’d heard of the brand. She often brought me small gifts when she came home, but never anything like this. Perhaps she knew this time was different. Before, a piece of cake, a hug, even just a smile was enough to soothe me. But today, not even a million-dollar watch could erase the blankness from my face. I just said a quiet, “Thank you.” A flicker of disappointment crossed her face. She could sense something was wrong, deeply wrong. But she didn’t dare bring up the announcement with Ethan—her guilty conscience wouldn’t let her. Instead, she changed the subject. “Liam, I’m starving. Could you make me some of your chicken noodle soup with wontons?” The wontons were pre-made, but the chicken broth had to be simmered for hours. Any other time, the mere mention of her craving would have sent me rushing to the kitchen, happy to cook for her, no matter how much trouble it was. But today, I felt nothing. No desire to please, no desire to cook. “There’s bread in the fridge. You can have that if you’re hungry.” “Liam!” My detached tone finally broke her composure. “Can you stop being so childish?” she snapped. “Do you have any idea how many appearances I canceled just to come home and deal with you? Can’t you be more understanding about my job?” “No,” I cut her off. I looked up, my eyes as still and dark as a midnight lake. “Ava, let’s break up.” Even after days of mentally preparing for this, the words still felt like a punch to the gut. A dull ache spread through my chest, making it hard to breathe. But I forced them out. This ridiculous, secret relationship had gone on for five years. It was over. We were over. I couldn’t stand waiting for her in this empty apartment anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing her name linked with other men in the tabloids. I couldn’t stand loving her anymore. I was tired. At the word “breakup,” Ava’s face went white. A look of pure, unadulterated shock and panic crossed her features. Before she could say anything, I opened the door and walked out. Since getting together with Ava, I’d become a recluse, my life revolving around her schedule. I hadn’t seen my friends in ages. So, when an invitation came, I went. After a few rounds of drinks, they noticed my distraction. I told them we’d broken up. “Broken up? When did you even start dating someone? How did you meet?” The rapid-fire questions threw me back to a summer in middle school, the summer I met Ava. I was being bullied for getting the highest grades in the school. They’d locked me in a bathroom stall. That’s where I found her, just as trapped and miserable as I was. In that moment, our shared fate seemed to bind us together. After middle school, she moved to another city with her divorced mother, but we never lost touch. Five years ago, after I graduated from college, I moved to her city to be with her, to support her career. That’s when we finally became a couple. But she knew. She knew. Ethan Reed was the one who bullied me back then. The rowdy chatter of my friends pulled me back to the present. I pointed a lazy finger at a poster on the wall. “That’s her,” I said with a bitter laugh. “My girlfriend of five years.” The poster was an ad for Ava and Ethan’s new movie. She’d fought to get him the leading role. They were pressed close together, their eyes locked in a smoldering gaze. They looked perfect. My friends roared with laughter. They thought I was drunk and joking. “You’ve had too much to drink, man. That’s Ava Stone, the movie star. No way she’s your girlfriend!” The laughter grated on my ears. The alcohol and the poster made the world feel blurry and unreal. I didn’t bother explaining. I just tipped my head back and drained my glass. The burn of the liquor was a welcome distraction, a mix of sorrow and resignation. As I lowered my head, the door to our private room opened. Even with the baseball cap pulled low, the sunglasses, and the mask, I recognized Ava instantly. She gave a small nod to the stunned room, a silent greeting, and then pulled up a chair, sitting down beside me. With everyone but me, she had this natural, icy aloofness. “What are you doing here?” My voice was polite but distant, creating a chasm between us. She frowned, but her tone was gentle. “I have some free time. I wanted to spend it with you.” My face remained cold. “You don’t have to do this. We’re breaking up.” “I don’t agree to the breakup,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You’re just jealous. You want us to go public, right? Fine. I’ll give you what you want.” She stood up, picked up my glass, and her voice regained its usual confident, almost arrogant, tone. “Hello, everyone. I’m Liam’s girlfriend.” “We’ve had to keep our relationship quiet because of my work. I hope you can understand.” As my friends stared in disbelief, she raised the glass to her lips. Before it could touch them, I snatched it from her hand. “That’s enough, Ava.” “We’re already broken up.” The glass hit the table with a thud, rolled twice, and came to a stop. Ignoring the tears welling in her eyes, I turned and walked out. Drunk and stumbling, I ran out into the dark street. The night, thick with the smell of alcohol, seemed to swallow me whole. My thoughts were a mess. I kept seeing Ava, glass in hand, and the tightness in my chest returned, making it hard to breathe. Ava never drank. She hated the taste of alcohol. But I remembered seeing a video, leaked by the paparazzi. She was drunk, leaning heavily against Ethan Reed, raising her glass to a table of producers. “Please, just give Ethan a chance,” she was slurring. “He’ll do a great job.” For Ethan, she, who never touched a drop, had downed three straight shots of hard liquor. She ended the night passed out in his arms. That night was my birthday. I waited for her all night, a cake sitting uneaten on the table. She never came home. She called later, her excuse ready. “It was the wrap party for the new movie. All the producers and directors were there. I couldn’t get away. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” But Ava, I don’t need you to make it up to me anymore. The moment I saw her in Ethan’s arms, five years of love shattered. My heart felt like it had turned to ash. Ava chased after me. “Liam, don’t be angry. It’s just a professional relationship, I swear…” she pleaded, her voice carrying to my friends who had followed us out. I just replied flatly, “I’m not angry. It has nothing to do with me anymore.” “Stop denying it, Liam. You’re only doing this because you’re jealous of Ethan.” “I’ve explained it a thousand times, those rumors are part of my job. If it bothers you that much, I’ll go clear things up right now. Just please, don’t break up with me.” She kept talking, always using her career as an excuse. She would never admit that her heart had ever strayed. Suddenly, I found her desperate, lie-filled pleading utterly pathetic. I shook her hand off, hailed a cab, and left without looking back. I had just gotten home when I received a termination notice from my company’s HR. “Liam, it was a decision from the top. There was nothing I could do.” The HR rep sounded apologetic. “I heard someone’s pulling strings to get you out. Did you piss someone off?” I’ve always been an easy-going person. I don’t make enemies. But if the company was going to fire me over something like this, so be it. I didn’t rely on that paycheck anyway. As soon as I hung up, an unknown number called. I answered. A man’s voice sneered, “How does it feel to be fired, Liam?” I recognized it immediately. Ethan Reed. So, he was the one behind this. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. A wave of pain and hatred washed over me. “You’re a worthless leech who can’t even hold down a minimum wage job. What right do you have to be with Ava? I suggest you crawl back into whatever hole you came from.” “As long as I’m around, you’ll never find another job in this city. I guarantee it. Hahaha.” His laugh was manic, a stark contrast to the gentle, sophisticated image he projected on screen. He sounded like a demon from hell. Just like he did in middle school. No matter what mask he wore, he was still disgusting. I let out a cold snort, cutting off his grating laughter. “Is that so? Then you’re going to lose.” This was a bet Ethan was destined to lose, spectacularly. For me, a nine-to-five job was just a way to pass the time. It didn’t matter if I had one or not. Back in college, I wrote a novel under a pseudonym. A famous director bought the film rights, and that was the start of my screenwriting career. Several of the biggest hit TV shows in recent years were from my pen. At my request, my real name was always kept hidden, replaced by the pen name ‘Serenity.’ Other than a few top directors I worked with, no one knew my true identity. Not even Ava. The next day, I went to the office to finalize my departure. When I got to my desk, it was empty. All my personal belongings were gone. Then I saw them, piled in the trash can next to my desk. I didn’t need to guess who did it. A cold smile touched my lips. I grabbed a nearby vase and strode toward the director’s office. Ignoring the shocked gasps of my colleagues, I kicked the door open and smashed the vase at the director’s feet. He slammed his hands on his desk and shot to his feet, enraged. “Liam, don’t push it!” “If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for crossing Ethan Reed. He made it clear he doesn’t want to see you here. Our hands are tied.” The company had just signed Ethan as the face of their new product. Of course, they wouldn’t risk offending him over a low-level employee like me. I didn’t bother arguing. It was their loss. Smashing the vase had vented most of my anger. As I turned to leave, the director’s secretary rushed in. “Sir, Ava Stone’s agent just called. She’s interested in being the spokesperson for the new product, but she has one condition…” The secretary gave me a complicated look. The director’s eyes lit up. “Whatever it is, we’ll meet it. At any cost.” An opportunity to work with a star of Ava’s caliber was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. “Her only condition,” the secretary said, her voice barely a whisper, “is that her boyfriend, Liam, be put in charge of her entire endorsement campaign.” The room fell silent. Everyone stared. Even I was momentarily stunned. When we first got together, Ava had been adamant about keeping our relationship a secret. We were never to be seen together in public. In five years, we were never seen together. My family, my friends, no one knew she existed. She never came to any of my social gatherings. Last year, when my grandmother was dying, her last wish was to meet my girlfriend. I called Ava, crying, begging her to come, just for a few minutes. Even though she could hear the sobs in my voice, she hesitated for only a second before refusing. “Liam, you know my situation. I can’t…” After that, I never asked again. I never thought she would use her influence, as my girlfriend, to help me with my job. But I didn’t need it anymore. Ava’s star power dwarfed Ethan’s. Hearing her condition, the director’s sycophantic smile returned. “Liam, my boy! Why didn’t you tell me you had this connection?” “What happened before was my mistake. Don’t hold it against me. How about this? I’ll make you the project lead for this campaign, effective immediately. And a triple bonus at the end of the year.” I just looked at him, my face a mask of indifference, and threw my ID badge on his desk. “Sorry. I quit.” I turned and walked away, leaving a room full of stunned colleagues in my wake. The main office was already buzzing. As soon as I stepped out, my coworkers swarmed me. “Dude, Liam, you’ve been holding out on us! Ava Stone is your girlfriend?” “She just updated her social media! She cleared up the rumors with Ethan Reed and announced she’s in a relationship with you! And… she’s on her way here, in a wedding dress, to propose!” Before I could process what they were saying, someone shoved a phone into my hand. On the screen, Ava was dressed in a stunning white gown, her makeup elegant and cool. She stared into the camera, her deep eyes seeming to pierce through the screen and lock with mine. “Liam,” she said, her voice clear and steady. “Are you ready to marry me?” Half an hour ago, Ava had posted a clarification. She revealed our five-year secret relationship. She posted candid photos of me cooking, a few snapshots from our life together. In a long, heartfelt caption, she explained that the ‘relationship’ with Ethan was just a joke, the result of a lost bet. She said she had only ever had one boyfriend. Me. My breath caught in my throat. My heart was a tangled mess of emotions. Ethan had immediately commented on her post: “Big sis Ava is a woman of her word! It was all a misunderstanding. Hope you’re not mad, bro-in-law!” The comments section exploded. Fans were furious, accusing Ava of toying with their emotions. Many still insisted that she and Ethan were a better match. Only a few offered their congratulations. I didn’t know how Ava had convinced Ethan to play along with this charade, but while the rest of the world was swooning, I was painfully sober. I had once dreamed of this day, of being able to hold her hand in public, to be acknowledged. But now, all I felt was a hollow emptiness, the quiet calm that follows a storm of disappointment. Within minutes, the story of a top actress proposing to her civilian boyfriend went viral, hitting number one on every trending list. Reporters and bloggers started live-streaming, following Ava as she, holding a bouquet, made her way to my office. Her fans had already gathered outside, clearing a path for her. The live stream crashed from the sheer volume of viewers. Before I could fully grasp the situation, a roar of excitement came from outside. Ava was here. She pushed open the doors, breathless, a bouquet in her arms. Her eyes found mine across the crowded room, and a smile touched her lips. The wedding dress was beautiful, accentuating her every curve. Even with her hair slightly disheveled and her face beaded with sweat, she was breathtaking. The media scrum followed her in. In an instant, every camera, every eye in the room was on me. Ava walked slowly toward me, her eyes shining like stars. She held out the flowers. “Liam,” she asked softly, “will you marry me?” Despite her calm demeanor, I could hear the slight tremor in her voice. The room erupted. Everyone was looking at me with envy. “Wow, being proposed to by a huge star in public… he’s so lucky.” “He’s just a regular guy. What did he do to deserve her?” As the whispers of envy swirled around me, my mind raced through the past five years. All the intense love I once felt had been slowly eroded by one disappointment after another. In that moment, I was terrifyingly clear-headed. Sensing my hesitation, people started clapping and chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” But under the expectant gaze of the entire nation, I calmly shook my head. “I’m sorry. I won’t.”

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At nineteen, the man I loved drugged me and left me unconscious in an abandoned building during a thunderstorm—my greatest fear. He stole my father’s badge to go undercover, spending five years infiltrating the Black Vulture syndicate to avenge my parents. He returned a decorated hero, but confined to a wheelchair. I found him, made him marry me, and for five years, he rebuilt his life while shielding me from everything. Then I discovered our marriage was a lie—his legal wife wasn’t me. When he begged me to abort our long-awaited child for the sake of his other family, I agreed. Seven days later, I jumped from a skyscraper. And he went mad. 1 My hand instinctively went to my stomach as I fought back the urge to scream, to rip the world apart with my questions. The storm of emotions inside me finally subsided, leaving behind only the bitter taste of ash. I forced the tears back, blinking them away until my vision cleared. I looked up at the man who had once sworn to shield me with his life, and my voice was a hollow echo of itself. “So that’s it, Caleb? You’re not going to explain this marriage certificate? You just want me to get rid of the baby we tried for three years to have… to make way for your little lover?” His eyes instantly reddened. He reached for me, but the dead, empty stillness in my gaze made him flinch back. “Elara… I’m so sorry…” His voice was a raw, ragged whisper. “But I can’t just stand by and watch Seraphina die.” “During my undercover years,” he continued, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush, “she saved my life. Not once, but multiple times. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have been able to avenge your parents. I wouldn’t have even made it back to you alive!” “She’s… damaged because of me. The trauma left her with severe depression, crippling anxiety. She has no one else, Elara! Only me!” His voice cracked with a pleading desperation. “Just let her have her baby first. I swear, after that, my life, everything I have… it’s all yours to make up for this. I’ll spend the rest of my days atoning.” “Atoning?” A sharp, twisting cramp seized my lower belly. “I endured three years of medication, countless injections, of vomiting until I passed out, all for this child. And you want me to kill him?” My voice rose, trembling. “This is a life, Caleb. A living, breathing life. What could possibly compensate for that?” I finally broke. The control I’d been clinging to shattered. “If you try to trade my child’s life for hers,” I shrieked, my voice raw with agony, “I swear to God, I will die right in front of you!” “Elara!” he roared, his face flashing with raw frustration. “You’re going to pressure me too? Why can’t you just understand?” “Seraphina is a… a ‘Player’! It’s complicated, but she’s part of some system. If she doesn’t successfully give birth to this child, the system will erase her! She’ll cease to exist!” “You’re stronger than she is,” he pleaded, his logic a poisoned knife. “You have me, you have everything we’ve built. But she only has me. All she wants is a chance to live. I’m begging you, Elara. Understand. Just this once. Give her a chance to live.” He couldn’t meet my eyes. He spun his wheelchair around with a jerky, panicked motion and fled the room, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed the splintering of my heart. I collapsed to the floor, my arms wrapped around my stomach, the tears finally flowing in a silent, scalding torrent. How did we get here? How did the man who once held me tight through thunderstorms, the man who would press his face to my belly and whisper, his stubble tickling my skin, “It’s okay, little one, Daddy’s here,” become this stranger who would so easily cast that same life aside for another woman? I don’t know how long I lay there before my phone rang, piercing the silence. Seraphina’s voice, laced with a triumphant, sickly sweetness, stabbed at my eardrums. “Elara, sweetie. As one woman to another, I’ll give you a second of my pity. I’m in such a good mood today, I’ll even let you in on a little secret. Caleb left you to be with me… for my prenatal check-up. You know, he looks incredible when he stands. It’s a shame he never told you he could.” My blood ran cold. “Oh, and sweetie? You’re a smart girl. You must know I’m not some ‘Player’ in a game. And I’m certainly not depressed. That was just a little act.” “I pretended to have a breakdown,” she purred, her voice dripping with venom. “Forced him to choose between your baby or me and mine. A little test, you see, to show you who really matters to him.” “You may have been his childhood sweetheart, but that’s nothing compared to the bond forged in darkness. The woman who stood by his side, who bled for him when he had nothing… that’s a bond you can never break.” “Did you really think your five years of marriage were happy? He never stopped looking for me. We’ve had our own little home on the west side of town for three years now.” “And that marriage certificate? He wanted you to find it. He was hoping you’d just give up, you see. Do us all a favor and set him free.” She paused, her tone hardening into pure malice. “Don’t make him lose that last little bit of affection he has left for you.” The video she sent seconds later shattered the last vestiges of my world. There was Caleb, standing tall and straight, gently, carefully guiding her through the clinic. My hero, the man who had faced down a criminal empire for me… now stood for her. He was a stranger. A nurse smiled at them. “Mr. Hayes, you take such wonderful care of your wife.” He only frowned slightly. He didn’t correct her. That single, tender moment obliterated every fantasy I had ever held. A tidal wave of furious, helpless despair consumed me. I scrambled to my feet and ran to the balcony, fumbling to dial his number. “Elara? What is it? Have you thought things through?” His voice was weary, but underneath it, I could hear the hopeful expectation that I had finally bent to his will. I looked down at the city lights below, a glittering, merciless abyss. My own voice was terrifyingly calm. “Caleb.” The line went quiet. He must have sensed the change in me. “I’m standing on the balcony,” I said softly. “Twenty minutes. I’m giving you twenty minutes.” I took a deep breath, enunciating each word with chilling precision. “If you’re not here,” I said, “I’m going to jump. I’ll take this child you’re so desperate to kill, and I will disappear from your life forever.” 2 A raw, guttural roar of pure terror ripped through the phone. “Elara, don’t you dare! Stay right where you are! Don’t move! I’m coming! I’ll be right there! Do you hear me?!” I ended the call, letting the cold rain soak through my clothes, chilling me to the bone. Less than two minutes later, a text from Seraphina buzzed on my phone, incandescent with rage. You bitch! You actually copied my suicide act? What a pathetic move! You think you’ve won just because you made Caleb leave me alone at the hospital in a storm? I’ll make you pay for this. I swear it. My face was a mask of stone. I screenshotted the messages and sent them to Caleb. I wanted him to see the true face of the “lonely,” “depressed” woman he was sacrificing everything for. On the nineteenth minute, a car screeched to a halt below. Caleb didn’t bother with the wheelchair, didn’t bother with the charade of being disabled. He stumbled out of the car and sprinted into the building, bursting into the apartment a moment later, drenched and wild-eyed. He yanked me back from the ledge, his arms trembling as he crushed me against him. “Elara, I was wrong! We’ll keep the baby! Just don’t do this, I’m begging you, never do this again… I can’t lose you…” I shoved him away with all my strength, wiping the rain and tears from my face. My voice was flat, devoid of all emotion. “I was going to give you divorce papers. But my lawyer informed me that I haven’t been your legal wife for three years.” I watched the color drain from his face as I delivered the final blow. “Caleb, I’m already divorced, so I can’t exactly divorce you again. Let’s just break up.” “Get out. I don’t want you anymore.” “I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want you to… to destroy the image I have left of the nineteen-year-old boy who would have died for me.” My gaze dropped to his legs, straight and strong. “And congratulations. On being able to walk again.” It was as if all the strength had been ripped from his body. Caleb staggered, reaching for me again, his voice thick with anguish and self-loathing. “Elara, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t trying to hide it from you! I wanted… I wanted to wait until I was fully recovered, to surprise you! I never, ever thought about leaving you. I can’t live without you…” There was a time I would have believed every word without question. Now, each syllable was a nauseating lie that crawled under my skin. Seeing my resolve, he grew more frantic. “Don’t listen to anything Seraphina sent you! She’s having a depressive episode, she’s not in control of what she says! I’ll handle her, I promise! I’ll never force you to do anything again.” “I will fix the mess with Seraphina and I’ll make it right with you! Please, just stop this. Don’t leave me…” I was tired. So incredibly tired. I whispered a single word: “Okay.” He reacted as if he’d been granted a divine pardon. He swept me into his arms, carried me to bed, and began gently toweling my hair and skin dry, treating me like a priceless, fragile treasure as he coaxed me to sleep. I closed my eyes, feigning exhaustion and surrender. As I expected, not fifteen minutes later, once he was certain I was “asleep,” he rose from the bed. He moved quietly but quickly, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him. That desperate, hurried retreat extinguished the last ember of hope in my heart. I got up immediately, threw on a coat, and followed him out. I needed to see it for myself. I needed to see what his idea of “handling it” and “making it right” truly looked like. I followed the red glow of his taillights through the rain. As I was about to hail a cab, a windowless van screeched to a halt beside me. A large hand clamped over my mouth, dragging me violently inside as a sickly chemical smell flooded my senses. Just before my consciousness faded, I saw them. Not far down the road, Caleb was pulling Seraphina, who was huddled and crying in the rain, into a fierce, protective embrace, his eyes filled with nothing but aching tenderness. 3 When I woke again, it was to the cloying stench of rust and mildew in a derelict warehouse. I thrashed wildly, the coarse ropes biting into my wrists, tearing the skin, but it was useless. I heard hushed voices outside and immediately squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to be unconscious. “The boss’s orders. Rough her up good. Teach her a lesson for the missus.” “Just don’t go all the way. And don’t kill her. Anything else is fair game.” The next three days were a descent into hell. They used every method imaginable to torture me, to strip away every shred of my dignity. I curled up on the filthy floor, my arms wrapped protectively around my stomach, begging them over and over. “Money… I have money… I’ll give you anything you want… please, just don’t hurt my baby… Call my husband… he’ll pay the ransom…” They laughed at my naivete, but to my surprise, they actually dialed Caleb’s number and put it on speaker. “We’ve got your wife. Five hundred grand for her and the kid in her belly. Or you get two corpses!” In that moment, a flicker of hope ignited in the abyss of my despair. But the voice that came through the phone was cold, impatient, and utterly dismissive. “Who is this? Some kind of prank call? My wife is perfectly fine at home. Call me again and I’m reporting you to the police.” The line went dead. One of the kidnappers spit on the floor. “Hear that? Your old man doesn’t want you!” I broke down, sobbing and pleading. “No, that’s impossible! Call again! Please! Let him hear my voice!” They dialed again. It went straight to voicemail. That robotic, impersonal voice crushed the last bit of life within me. The torture intensified. Finally, amidst a searing, gut-wrenching agony, I felt a warm gush of liquid between my legs… My child was gone, reduced to a pool of blood on the concrete floor. One of the kidnappers checked my pulse and, assuming I was dead, cursed under his breath before they finally left. I don’t know how much time passed. Running on a single, desperate breath, I dragged my blood-soaked body out of the warehouse and began the agonizing journey back. As I neared our home, I heard the sound of laughter and conversation from inside. I hid in the shadows, peering through the window. I saw Caleb, gently applying ointment to a small cut on Seraphina’s finger. Around him, the men he once called his brothers were talking loudly. “I bet the wife has learned her lesson this time. A little taste of the real world should teach her that a man of Caleb’s status having a few women on the side is normal.” “Exactly. Caleb’s been patient with her for years. It’s just a baby. So what if Seraphina has one first? The girl needed to be put in her place.” “I don’t know, man. She’s not the type to share.” “You know how she is. Can’t stand a single grain of sand in her eye. You really think she’ll tolerate sharing Caleb with another woman?” “And aren’t you guys worried this went too far? This whole thing, Caleb not sending anyone to protect her… it feels like playing with fire.” “What if she finds out this whole kidnapping was his idea? That he did it to get rid of the baby and ‘discipline’ her? You think they have a future after that?” Someone scoffed. “Please. I’ll bet a million bucks she loves him so much she can’t live without him. Even if she knew the truth, she’d forgive him. She’s just throwing a tantrum right now. Give it time, she’ll compromise for love.” Their words were poison-tipped needles, plunging deep into my already ravaged heart. So this was it. The hell I had endured, the loss of my child… it was all his design. A calculated cruelty to make me more “obedient,” to appease Seraphina. Just then, Caleb frowned, cutting them off. “All of you, shut up. Keep a close eye on things. Don’t let anything actually happen to Elara.” He turned to another man. “And the rest of you, get the house on the west side ready. Finalize the arrangements for the cars and the ceremony tomorrow.” “I owe Seraphina this wedding. It has to be perfect.” “And after tomorrow, arrange to have my wife brought home, completely unharmed.” One of them asked, a strange note in his voice, “Caleb… now that you have two wives… do you still love Elara?” He didn’t hesitate. His voice was clear and firm. “Yes. More than my own life. And I will spend the rest of my days making it up to her.” I clamped my hand over my mouth to stifle a sob, scrambling away from that house of horrors, that place of sickening betrayal. The cold rain mixed with my blood and tears as I stumbled through the city, finally collapsing at the foot of my parents’ grave, the last of my strength giving out as I wept until my soul felt hollowed out. 4 I woke in the downpour before my parents’ tombstone, my body frozen, but my heart colder still. With trembling fingers, I pulled out my drenched phone. The screen was shattered, but it still worked. I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. It was answered on the first ring. A calm, steady voice came through the line. “It’s me. Elara.” My own voice was a hoarse, unrecognizable rasp. “Can you help me…?” There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a single, firm word: “Yes.” Just before he hung up, he added, “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of everything.” By the time I made my way, ghost-like, back to the city center, Caleb and Seraphina’s wedding was the only thing anyone was talking about. The news was everywhere, plastering their faces across every screen, gushing about the lavish, billion-dollar fantasy wedding the CEO of Hayes Corp. had created for his beloved bride. I wore the simplest clothes, a specter haunting the celebration from afar. I went to the observation tower across from their wedding venue. The Spire. It was where the city’s elite came to watch the stars, to make grand romantic gestures. It was where Caleb had once proposed to me, where he had sworn his wedding vows to me under a canopy of constellations. I stood at its base and looked up. Through the vast panes of glass, I could see the glittering party, the swirl of expensive gowns and the clinking of champagne glasses. Caleb was there, devastatingly handsome in a tailored suit. And beside him, Seraphina wore the wedding dress he had once designed exclusively for me, the one he said was for “my Elara, who deserves something one-of-a-kind in this world.” But the final, soul-crushing blow was the necklace adorning her throat. The sapphire pendant, the last thing my mother had ever given me. The one he had promised to treasure for me forever. In that instant, my sanity snapped. I ran toward the hotel like a madwoman, driven by a primal need to reclaim what was mine. But before I could even reach the doors, four familiar faces blocked my path—my kidnappers. They clamped a hand over my mouth, grabbing my hair and brutally dragging me away. “Ms. Thorne,” one of them sneered, “Mr. Hayes gave specific orders. No one is to disturb the wedding today. Don’t humiliate yourself any further.” I fought back with the strength of the damned, sinking my teeth into one man’s hand. He cried out in pain, his grip loosening just enough for me to break free. I sprinted back toward the hotel, toward the life that had been stolen from me. But there were too many of them. They surrounded me again, forming a human wall between me and that path of roses, a beautiful shore I could never reach. From a distance, I saw Caleb slide the ring onto Seraphina’s finger. I saw the men who were once my friends raise their glasses in a toast to the “happy couple.” And suddenly, I stopped struggling. I turned around. With the last ounce of my strength, I ran into the tower across the street, all the way to the top. The wind howled around me as I stepped onto the ledge and switched on the massive public address speaker. A low hum echoed across the plaza, turning into a piercing feedback squeal that instantly captured the attention of every guest at the wedding below. I saw Caleb’s head snap up, his triumphant smile freezing on his face, morphing into a mask of pure horror. I leaned into the microphone. My voice, terrifyingly calm, boomed across the wedding venue and beyond. “Caleb Hayes, congratulations on your wedding day.” “I wish you and Seraphina a lifetime of happiness together.” “And I hope you and your brothers never forget today. I hope you remember your little ‘lesson.’ I hope you remember how my unborn child was washed away in a pool of blood.” His face went ashen. He started running toward me, screaming my name, but the wind snatched his words away. “You all bet that I would forgive you, didn’t you?” Facing the wind, I smiled. It was the first time I had smiled in three days, and it was my last. A thing of tragic, desperate beauty. “Well, now I’m making a bet of my own. I’m betting my life that you, Caleb Hayes, will never know a moment of peace for the rest of yours.” And with that, as he watched, his eyes wide with frantic, disbelieving terror, as the crowd below gasped in a collective wave of shock, I took one final step forward and leaped from the top of the world.

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During the holiday, my wife Amelia spent $99 million at an auction to buy a rare emerald necklace for her young assistant, Leo. He promptly posted it on Instagram with a cloying caption: “Received the most precious gift of my life—a symbol of your heart! I’ll never leave you, dearest Madam President!” I froze her black card and sent her the screenshot. “You’ve forgotten our three rules, Mrs. Sterling.” She replied instantly, begging me to unfreeze the card. “I don’t carry that much cash.” “Then find the nearest gentleman’s club and pole dance for tips,” I wrote. “With your status, you’ll earn plenty.” After a minute of silence, I sent a news alert: her family’s company, which I had propped up, had lost nearly a billion dollars in market value. If she insisted on funding her boy toy, I’d make her pay it back tenfold first. 1 While Wall Street was still reeling from the sudden, inexplicable drop of a billion-dollar company, a video call from Amelia came through. “Ethan, stop this nonsense. If I get up on a stage and dance, it’s your reputation I’m humiliating, not just mine!” Seeing the fury in her red-rimmed eyes, I offered only a cold smirk. “Amelia, I’ll ask you one more time. Are you going to dance, or not?” “Choices have consequences. You have thirty seconds. Otherwise…” She hung up before I could finish. Less than half a minute later, my phone started buzzing with videos from my friends who were also at the auction. There she was. Amelia, my wife, dressed in a scandalously short dress, her face a mask of shame and wounded pride, her body moving around a brass pole with a practiced, elegant grace that was utterly out of place. “Damn, Ethan, you’re the man! That’s how you handle a woman who steps out of line!” “You’ve got her wrapped around your finger, Sterling! You have to share your secrets with the rest of us!” I read their fawning messages, told them to delete the videos, and then sent a final text to Amelia. “Amelia, remember your place. And don’t ever forget the three rules we agreed upon on our wedding day.” This time, she didn’t reply. I knew she was furious. I didn’t care. Ours was a marriage of convenience, a business merger. There were no feelings involved. Her family was insignificant compared to mine, but they were desperate for money and status, and I needed a wife to appease my parents. Before the wedding, I had laid out our three rules, clear and non-negotiable. “I will respect your public image as Mrs. Sterling. I will give you children to inherit the Sterling empire. But you will have no say in my business affairs.” “As for you, your only job is to be the perfect Mrs. Sterling. Do what is expected of you. Nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand?” “If you can accept these terms, we get married. If not, you can walk away right now. But once you leave this room as my fiancée, the deal is sealed.” I saw her lips part, a protest forming, and I cut her off with a cold laugh. “Miss Yang, let’s be clear. Our families are not equals. You bring me no tangible benefits. If you refuse, I will find another woman, give her family a fraction of what I’m offering yours, and marry her instead. It’s that simple.” She had nodded, a flicker of resentment in her eyes, but she had no grounds to refuse. And to her credit, she had played the part of Mrs. Sterling perfectly for years. We even had a son and a daughter. As a reward for her good behavior, I had elevated her father’s company from a minor firm to a billion-dollar corporation. I never imagined that after all these years of peaceful coexistence, she would dare to cross the line. This business with the assistant wasn’t just a misstep; it was a direct challenge. His blatant, public boasting felt like a personal insult. I do not permit others to covet what is mine. Not even with a glance. Toward evening, another message came from Amelia. “Attending a gala tonight. Will be home late.” I snorted and went back to my work. An hour later, my executive assistant forwarded me another screenshot from the boy toy’s social media. “You are the gentle breeze I have always dreamed of.” The picture was a selfie of him at the gala, a demure smile on his face, but his eyes gleaming with pride and triumph. The lighting on his face was soft, clearly cast by a woman holding the phone for him. At the same time, my friend Liam sent me a photo from the same event. It was Amelia, stunning in a couture gown, holding up her phone, aiming it directly at the pretty boy. The look on her face was one of indulgent, doting affection. The corners of her mouth were curved into a self-satisfied smile. Her intention was painfully obvious. “What’s going on, Ethan? Looks like your magic touch is failing you!” In both pictures, the $99 million emerald necklace was impossible to miss, a glittering declaration of war. She knew my friends would be at that gala. She knew I would see it. Yet she had willingly played photographer for him, even tacitly approved his provocative post, all as a petty act of revenge against me. She was using my reputation as a stepping stone for her boy toy. A cold smile touched my lips as I opened my chat with her. “It seems my generosity has been mistaken for weakness. You’re getting bold, Amelia.” Three minutes passed. No reply. My smile widened. I texted Liam. “She’s not looking at her phone?” His reply was instant. “She glanced at it and shut it off. You about to read her the riot act?” I sent one last message to Amelia. “Ignoring me? You have ten seconds to reply. Or you’ll regret it.” Ten seconds later, I sent her a photo of the signed divorce papers I always kept ready. “ETHAN STERLING! ARE YOU INSANE? IT’S JUST A FEW PICTURES! IS IT REALLY WORTH ALL THIS DRAMA?” Simultaneously, a text from Liam arrived. “HOLY SHIT, MAN! What did you say? Her hands are shaking so bad she can barely type!” I sent back a smirking emoji. “Sit back and enjoy the show.” Then I made a call to my household manager and instructed him to have my children taken to the airport immediately for a flight out of the country. Liam’s next message came quickly. “DUDE! TEACH ME YOUR WAYS! SHE’S LITERALLY ON HER KNEES STARING AT HER PHONE.” At the exact same moment, Amelia’s text appeared. “They’re your children too!” Her messages were now frantic, punctuation thrown in haphazardly, her panic palpable through the screen. “Call me. Now,” I typed. Her call came instantly, her voice laced with fury. “Ethan Sterling! What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’ve had your fun, you’ve made your point! Why are you dragging our children into this? Are you forgetting they’re your own flesh and—” I cut her off. “Start a video call.” “What are you planning to do?” “I said, start a video call. Now.” Amelia hesitated for a moment before complying. I saw several of my friends and business associates in the background of her video. I smiled. “Gentlemen, good evening. I hear my wife brought a new face to the party tonight. Is that right?” Amelia’s voice trembled as she rushed to explain. “Darling, you’ve misunderstood! He’s just my assistant!” I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “What kind of boss spends ninety-nine million dollars on an emerald for their assistant?” “But don’t be nervous,” I continued, my voice dropping to a silken threat. “I told you I’d give you a chance. I hear the waters off the coast here are known for their shark population. I’ve lived a long life, but I’ve never actually seen a shark feed on a person.” “So, Mrs. Sterling, would you be so kind as to throw your assistant into the ocean for me? I’d love to see the show.” That night, the coastline was ablaze with the lights of search and rescue boats, their calls echoing over the water. Liam’s excited voice notes flooded my phone. “Ethan, you are the absolute king! You’ve got the whole ‘master of the house’ thing down to a science!” “Your wife is a piece of work, too! Grabbed that pretty boy by the hair and just chucked him into the sea!” “You sure this isn’t just part of some kinky game you two play?” “Getting thrown into the ocean like a bag of trash by a woman… if that were me, I’d never show my face in public again.” “Seriously, man, teach me your ways! I’ll buy you dinner, just give me a few pointers.” I chuckled at his message. “First, you lay down the law. Then, if they don’t listen, you bring down the hammer. You think you have the stomach for that?” “Not a chance in hell!” Liam and his wife were high school sweethearts, a genuine love match. He was completely whipped. My methods would never work for him. “By the way,” he added, “I saw your wife jump in after him. Trying to save him. You’re not worried?” “Why would I be?” I replied coolly. “It’s easy enough to find a more obedient woman to be the next Mrs. Sterling.” Liam sent back a quick “Savage, man,” and then went silent. An hour later, Amelia returned, drenched and disheveled. She stumbled into the foyer, and the moment she saw me, her eyes, red and swollen, blazed with fury, her chest heaving. “The boy is in the ocean. The children are gone. Are you satisfied now?” I was on a conference call, negotiating a deal. I didn’t even grant her a glance. Only after I’d hung up did she speak again, taking a deep breath to control her rage. “Ethan, I did everything you asked. What more could you possibly want? Tell me!” I took a sip of my coffee, my eyes raking over her soaked, clinging dress with disdain. Our gazes met, and the fire in hers was instantly extinguished by the ice in mine. She collapsed onto the floor, hugging her knees, her voice a raw whisper. “Even if I was in the wrong today, does that give you the right to utterly destroy my reputation? To push me to the brink? If the rescue team hadn’t been so fast, I’d be facing manslaughter charges right now! What do you want from me?” I looked at her, my expression devoid of emotion. “Are you sure I’m the one who destroyed your reputation? Weren’t you the one who broke our agreement first?” Defeated, her lips moved several times before she spoke. “Leo is just a college graduate. What could possibly happen between us? After all these years of marriage, don’t you trust me?” “Amelia, I can choose to believe your words. But your actions have been a profound disappointment.” “Do you think that boy could earn ninety-nine million dollars in a hundred lifetimes? You can’t even produce that kind of cash yourself, yet you’d buy something so extravagant for him?” “Forcing me to foot the bill for another man is one thing. But what gives him the right to have the great Mrs. Sterling dive into the ocean to save him? Have you ever once considered your own status, your own identity?” Amelia looked up at me, her face a picture of wounded confusion. “He just seemed off at work these past few days. I wanted to cheer him up, so I made a grand gesture. It was a joke. I never thought you’d take it so seriously.” “I don’t understand why you’re so angry. It’s not like I cheated on you…” I let out another cold laugh. “Who is he, some kind of god? It costs ninety-nine million dollars to cheer him up? Can you guarantee he wouldn’t see that as an invitation, that it wouldn’t give him ideas he has no right to have?” “If not for your indulgence, a nobody like him would never have even entered my orbit. But now he feels bold enough to challenge me on social media. Don’t tell me you didn’t see it.” “Respect is a two-way street, Amelia. You trampled all over mine. Why should I bother protecting yours?” I placed the divorce papers on the table between us, my gaze unwavering. “Amelia, if you truly have feelings for him, you are free to sign these and leave.” Seeing the words “Divorce Agreement,” she burst into tears. “No… I don’t, I didn’t…” “Tell me, do you remember our three rules?” She nodded, repeating my words from all those years ago through choked sobs. My knuckles tapped against the papers. “In a business marriage, I don’t deal in feelings. I deal in duty. You failed to uphold your duties as Mrs. Sterling. Naturally, there are consequences. Including divorce.” Amelia wiped her tears and threw herself into my arms. “I… I know I was wrong.” I calmly took a drag from my cigar. She laced her fingers through mine with one hand and used the other to gently take the cigar and stub it out. “Darling, don’t punish your own body for my mistakes, okay?” she murmured, pressing herself against me. “Ethan, it’s been so long since we…” She started to unbutton my shirt, but I stopped her, my hand closing firmly over hers. “I sent the children to stay with their grandparents. I have no desire for them to come from a broken home. I will respect you, Amelia, but I will not tolerate your behavior. Do you understand?” I pushed her away. I saw the flash of surprise in her eyes, quickly replaced by a wave of panic. My voice was calm and businesslike. “Furthermore, I expect you to act out of duty as a wife, not use your body as a bargaining chip.” With that, I stood and walked toward my study. Just as I opened the door, I turned back, my tone deadly serious for the final time. “Regarding incidents like this, let me be perfectly clear. This was the first, and it will be the last. You will not get a second chance.” Her eyes, red and wide, met mine. She nodded vigorously. “I promise, darling. I swear. It will never, ever happen again.” The very next day, Amelia’s first order of business was to publicly fire Leo. He instantly became a pariah at the office, openly mocked by his former colleagues who were quick to follow the shifting winds. “Well, well, if it isn’t our swimming champion! How’d you get fired?” “Weren’t you just bragging about the emerald necklace the boss bought you? Guess you didn’t think she’d take it back, huh?” He could only slink away like a beaten dog. After that day, life seemed to return to normal. Amelia slipped back into her role as the perfect wife and mother. Seeing her improved behavior, I brought the children home. “Ethan,” she said, her smile genuine for the first time in weeks, “I wasn’t thinking clearly before. Now, all I want is to be a part of our children’s lives.” Perhaps it was the sound of our children’s laughter, but I found myself almost forgiving her transgressions. But I never forgot about Leo. I’m a man who believes in settling scores. I had my assistant keep tabs on him, ensuring that life remained… difficult. If you dare to covet what is mine, you must be prepared to pay the price. I just never imagined Amelia would dare to deceive me on such a fundamental level. A message from Liam arrived unexpectedly one afternoon. “Ethan, are you being played? I was at a meeting with your father-in-law’s company, Yang Corp, today. Guess who the new CEO is? Your wife’s pretty boy!” The attached photo showed Leo in a sharp suit, looking confident and triumphant, with no trace of the humiliated wretch who’d been thrown into the sea. And there, around his neck, was the emerald necklace. A glaring, defiant insult. “Amelia,” I seethed, “I underestimated you.” I drove home, a cold fury building with every mile. As I approached the front door, I heard her voice from inside, speaking to our children. “From now on, no one in this house mentions his name! He was planning to ship you both off to work in African mines! If it weren’t for me stopping him…” “You don’t have to thank me too much. I’m your mother, after all. A few of the company’s shares as a thank you will be enough…” My fists clenched, my face a thunderous mask as I strode inside. Amelia’s words caught in her throat, and raw panic flashed across her face. “Amelia! I entrust you with our children, and this is how you raise them?” My son and daughter ran to me, hugging my legs. “Daddy! Mommy is trying to make us bad!” I gestured for the children to go to their room, then turned my icy gaze on Amelia. “For the sake of our children, I will give you one chance to explain yourself. Speak.” Her expression hardened into one of annoyance and impatience. “Explain what? I was making a joke with the kids. Is a simple ‘I’m sorry’ not enough for you?” I slammed my hand down on the table, my patience gone. “You won’t talk? Fine! I’ll talk for you!” “You’ve gotten quite bold, Amelia! Playing these deceptive little games right under my nose?” “My time is limited. Sign it.” I threw the divorce papers onto the table again. Her eyes immediately welled with tears. “What is wrong with you today? Is divorce really something you can just throw around like it’s nothing?” “I’ve dedicated myself to our family! I haven’t even stepped out of this house! On what grounds are you divorcing me?” “Why don’t you just accuse me of still seeing Leo? Can you stop taking your bad moods out on me? You’re scaring the children! I’m not your punching bag! Go think about what you’ve done!” With that, she stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. The children were frightened by our argument, so to comfort them, I decided to take them to a charity auction to pick out a gift. We had no sooner arrived when someone in the crowd exclaimed. “Look! It’s the new CEO of Yang Corp! So the old CEO stepped down for the man by her side!” Leo was beaming, his face radiant with success. And on his arm, looking regal in a haute couture gown, was my wife, Amelia. Her eyes met mine across the room. She held my gaze for a moment before deliberately turning her head to whisper something in Leo’s ear, guiding him into a private suite as if my children and I were complete strangers. When someone in the crowd referred to Leo as “Mr. Yang,” she merely smiled and nodded, not bothering to correct them. The auction began. A sudden gasp rippled through the room. “Look! Mr. Yang is making a grand gesture for his lady! He’s bidding without a limit!” “What a man! To spend so extravagantly on his wife! I’m so jealous!” “Didn’t you hear? Mrs. Yang spent ninety-nine million on her husband not too long ago! It must be some kind of romantic game they play!” Amelia looked at Leo, her smile full of doting pride and a hint of triumph. My son, hearing the whispers, looked up at me, his face possessing a calmness far beyond his years. “If Mommy wants to be with that bad man,” he said, his small voice clear and steady, “then Daddy can just get us a new mommy.” To make a child say such a thing… Amelia truly was one of a kind. I stroked his hair gently. “That’s right, son. We sit at the head of the table. People like them are merely items on the menu. They don’t even qualify as villains.” My gaze fell upon Amelia, who was basking in the spotlight. My voice was low and cold. “And as the future heirs of the Sterling Corporation, today, Daddy will use them to teach you both a very important lesson on how to remove an unwanted dish from the menu. And…” I paused, letting the weight of my words settle. “What the fury of a top-tier dynasty truly looks like.”

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In the tenth year of my marriage to Chris, I died in a car crash. After my death, I watched, invisible, as he calmly went to identify my mangled body. He handled the funeral arrangements with perfunctory efficiency, notifying relatives as if checking off a list. Worried I might linger and haunt him, he even hired a spiritualist to perform a cleansing ritual. Before even a week had passed since my death, he was living with Seraphina, the one that got away. It’s true that I had forced him into our marriage, but after ten years, I truly believed that he had grown to love me, at least a little. When I was reborn, the first thing I did was destroy our engagement. Before I could even process what was happening, I heard myself say the words. “You’re free.” 1 I was still reeling from the disorienting sensation of being a disembodied spirit, a ghost that could fly. Chris’s cold scoff echoed in my ear. “So, it was just a game after all.” “How many times have you pulled this stunt now?” A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I paled, steadying myself on a nearby chair. Chris watched me the entire time, his expression a mask of detached calm. “It’s not a game,” I managed to say. “From now on, you can be with whoever you want. I won’t force you to do anything ever again.” “This whole marriage alliance… it was a mistake.” Chris strode toward me, his fists clenched at his sides. “You promised your father would invest in my family’s company. Are you backing out now?” He let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “I knew it. You never stick with anything for more than five minutes.” At the mention of the investment, a flicker of anxiety broke through his composure. He stood before me like a wall, and the dizziness intensified, a queasy feeling rising in my stomach. I gave his shin a light kick. “Go get me a glass of ice water.” At my command, his expression instantly smoothed back into that familiar calm. As I took the glass from his hand, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu. It was as if we were back in our home in my previous life. He’d just come home from work, and I was on the sofa, ordering him to wash fruit for me, demanding a leg massage while he was in the middle of cooking. I looked up and met his placid eyes again. I wondered, how did he manage it? How did he serve someone he didn’t love, sleep beside someone he didn’t love, for ten long years? A bitter taste filled my mouth. It must have been unbearable. I lowered my gaze and answered his question. “My family will proceed with the investment.” Chris’s father was a man of immense pride. His company, Keystone Foods, was built on quality and integrity, slowly earning a stellar reputation. But in this cutthroat era, staying afloat was a struggle, and the cost of modernization was massive. If my family were to pull our funding now, it would be a death blow. A man as proud as his father would never survive it. That was why Chris had endured it. He had endured me, giving up the woman he loved and submitting to my every unreasonable demand, all to repay that debt of gratitude. Even after his family’s company was back on its feet, he never broke his promise to me. For ten years, he took care of me to the best of his ability. He just didn’t love me. But now, there was still time to fix everything. “We’ll do it by the book. A standard investment contract, with dividends paid according to shares. I’ll even add a second round of funding if you run into any issues. Keystone is a good company. I grew up eating your snacks. There are no other conditions.” I took a deep breath. After all, for ten years, I had truly loved him. Pushing down the ache in my chest, I continued, “I was wrong to force you before. I won’t do it again.” I looked up, meeting his gaze. He stared back, his lips parting as if to say something, but no words came out. I stood and opened the door, turning my back to him to hide the stinging in my eyes. “This time,” I said, my voice quiet but firm, “I want to try with someone else.” When Chris left, his footsteps were hurried, almost frantic. He was probably afraid I’d change my mind. 2 Chris’s parents were deeply in love, and he was raised as a well-mannered, educated young gentleman. When I was a child, my father would often take me to visit their home, and Chris would always treat me with patient hospitality, never showing an ounce of irritation at my tantrums. It wasn’t until I overheard that he had followed his childhood neighbor, Seraphina, to Seaview University that I understood. All of his patience, his emotional stability around me, was simply the polite tolerance one shows a guest. Even someone as perfect as him had a love he couldn’t attain. Seraphina was beautiful and brilliant, but I wasn’t so bad myself. I was so naive back then. I thought that if I just had enough time, he would eventually fall in love with me. For ten years, we got along well enough, like any ordinary married couple, which created the illusion that we were in love. But not even a week had passed after my death before he was living with her. I was like the evil side character in a romance novel, the one who tears the main couple apart, only to receive my karmic retribution in the final chapter. I gazed out the floor-to-ceiling window at the blue sky and sparkling sea. Nothing felt better than being alive again. To prove my sincerity, I had my father complete the investment the very next day and formally dissolve our engagement. My father gave me a knowing look as he signed my name on the contract, making the investment officially in my name. Even he could see how I felt about Chris. I didn’t bother explaining. Neither family mentioned the engagement again. 3 Returning to university life was a strange adjustment. The campus was huge. Chris and I were in different programs—he was in finance, I was in art. It was perfectly normal that our paths wouldn’t cross. A full month went by without a single sighting of him. I’ll admit, it was unsettling at first. I threw myself into campus life to distract myself. I fed the stray cats. I joined the mountaineering club. I posted pictures of my sculptures and myself covered in clay. I went on sketching trips with my classmates. My roommates started a betting pool in our group chat, speculating on whether I had genuinely moved on or was just trying a new strategy. They had all witnessed my single-minded pursuit of Chris before. They debated freely, completely ignoring the fact that I was in the chat. I finally typed a reply. “So, what are the odds?” My roommate, Chloe, responded instantly: “Four to one… P.S: I’m the one.” Even though they all thought I would regroup and launch a new offensive, this time, I had truly given up. I placed a bet on myself moving on. My cousin, Leo Sterling, came looking for me. He rolled up in a flashy sports car, his hair bleached a shocking blond, and yelled my name at the top of his lungs outside the sculpture studio late at night. “Aria!” He lunged forward to sling an arm around my neck, then skidded to a halt when he saw I was covered in wet clay. “Heard you invested in Chris’s company, but now you’re avoiding him?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with gossip. “What’s the deal? Playing hard to get?” I shot him a withering glare. “Hard to get my foot!” I turned to go back inside, wanting nothing to do with him. We’d been close since we were kids, distant cousins thrice removed. He was a classic slacker, and his dad had shipped him off to study abroad. He was a frequent flyer, though, coming back more often than not. Leo stroked his chin thoughtfully. “How about this? I’ll help you kidnap him. You can tie him up and have your way with him.” I took a deep breath and turned back to him with a sweet smile. The next second, all the clay on my hands was transferred perfectly to his face. He let out a squeal like a pig being slaughtered. “Aria Thorne, I’m going to kill you!” As I dodged his attack, I glanced down the hallway and saw Chris standing at the far end, holding two cups of bubble tea. It was the first time I’d seen him since that day. Remembering that his beloved Seraphina had classes in this building, it all made sense. He shot us a cold look, scoffed, and turned away. “What’s his problem?” I muttered. Later, while we were at a hot pot place, Leo asked again about Chris. “I just don’t like him anymore,” I said. Leo’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean, you don’t like him anymore? Is it because of Seraphina?” I snatched a piece of tripe from his chopsticks and rolled my eyes. “You already know, so why ask?” Leo put on a look of profound grief. “My dear Seraphina… so she’s really going to be snatched away by that guy.” His words made my own heart ache a little. That night, the two of us, unlucky in love, drank ourselves into a stupor. My roommate Chloe, who was working a part-time job nearby, had to drag me home. The next day, she showed me a video of Leo and me belting out sad love songs in the middle of the street. She then used it as blackmail to get me to cover her shift for the debate club. She was juggling eighteen part-time jobs and was completely swamped. 4 I thought I would never cross paths with Chris again. I didn’t expect to see him at the debate club. He was organizing files on a shelf. He froze for a second when I walked in, then turned back to his task without a word. I felt a surge of awkwardness. He didn’t think I came here on purpose, did he? We worked in silence. I started cleaning up, just as Chloe had instructed. To be honest, it was a bit of a challenge for me. As I stood on a chair, cloth in hand, trying to reach the top of a window, the chair wobbled. I lost my balance and braced myself for the fall. The expected pain never came. A pair of searing hot hands gripped my waist, steadying me. My face flushed instantly. I was thrown back to my past life, after Chris and I were married. He was usually silent, reserved, and stoic. It was only in bed that he would become a different person, gripping my waist with a fierce possessiveness, his breathing heavy and ragged. His hands were always this hot. He wouldn’t speak, just work with a relentless intensity until my voice grew hoarse from begging, at which point he would finally relent, his attention shifting to my lips for a brief reprieve. I drifted for a moment. So, there had been times when it felt like love. “Get down.” His cold voice behind me pulled me from my reverie. I felt a pang of embarrassment. He probably thought I’d faked the fall. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking deeply annoyed. Just as I was trying to figure out how to explain, my phone rang. I scrambled to answer it, eager to escape. It was Leo. He must have just woken up. “Aria, my little darling, for the sake of your happiness, your big bro is going to give it another shot!” My heart sank. A shot at what? I had a terrible feeling Leo was about to make a fool of himself. I rushed out to find him, and after circling the campus, I finally spotted him in front of the dorms. Chris had found him first. When I arrived, Leo and Chris were in a standoff. The scene was ludicrously over the top. The ground was blanketed in a sea of roses. Seraphina stood behind Chris in a white dress, looking completely bewildered. I approached slowly. I had to admit, the sight still stung. It was a delayed, creeping kind of pain. In my past life, not long after I forced Chris to marry me, Seraphina’s family went bankrupt. Chris immediately sent her abroad. I was happy at the time, thinking no one could get between us anymore. Looking back now, I realize he was probably just afraid I would persecute her now that she had nothing. He really did love her. Just like now. The grand confession was for Seraphina. But it was Chris who stood in front of her, shielding her, rejecting the advance on her behalf. Seraphina’s eyes were red. She tugged gently on Chris’s sleeve, shaking her head. Then, she saw me. She seemed to want to explain something, but after opening her mouth, she just lowered her gaze and said nothing. This scene felt familiar. I suddenly remembered my own afterlife. After my death, Chris brought Seraphina into our home. Leo had shown up then, too, causing a scene. He had pointed at Chris’s nose, screaming at him, accusing him of disrespecting my memory. I had floated beside them, trying to explain. “No, he didn’t cheat on me.” “I know what kind of man he is. He would never do that.” “I was the one who forced him.” “He didn’t wrong me. He can go back to his love.” “I was the one who wronged him all these years.” “Leo, I’m dead. He’s free.” But no one could hear me. That day had been the seventh day after my death. Back in the present, I walked toward them. Chris’s gaze fell on me, cold and hard. It was as if he were saying: Aria Thorne, you’re pathetic. Using Leo to get to Seraphina. Leo stood opposite him, his flamboyant hair looking limp and lifeless. Looking at the ridiculous display of roses and luxury gifts piled in his sports car, I grimaced. His taste was atrocious. Any normal girl would die of secondhand embarrassment. He must have had rocks in his head to come up with this plan. He seemed to realize it, too. He shot me a desperate look and whispered, “Help me.” “If my dad finds out I’m back in the country pulling this crap, I’m dead meat!” I rolled my eyes. “You didn’t ask for my help before you pulled this crap. It’s too late now.” “It wasn’t me!” he hissed. “I just wanted to give her some flowers! My idiot friends got wind of it and put all this together!” I glanced over and, sure enough, saw a few of his usual cronies whispering together. Seeing the growing crowd, Leo gritted his teeth. “Help me out of this, and I’ll steal my dad’s yacht for you. We can have a party. With male models.” I nodded instantly. “Deal.” I took the bouquet from Leo’s hand, turned to Seraphina, and put on my most lovesick expression. “Sera, I’ve admired you for so long! Do you like these Bulgarian roses, freshly flown in just for you?” Then, pretending to just notice Chris, I covered my mouth in shock. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you already had a boyfriend.” I feigned tears. “It seems I was one step too late. In the next life, I’ll be sure to come sooner!” Someone in the crowd muttered, “Wait, I thought Aria was chasing Chris?” Seraphina looked at me, confused. Crap. “It was a diversionary tactic!” I announced. “An attempt to weaken the enemy from within! It failed, so this was my last desperate gambit!” Nods of understanding rippled through the crowd. Seraphina’s expression was complicated, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. I sighed dramatically. “My lady, you must be happy! My quest is over, and I shall retreat…” Leo clamped a hand over my mouth. “Sorry, she’s overcome with grief and talking nonsense. I’ll take her away to recover.” I was just getting into character and shot him a glare. Across from us, Seraphina reached out a hand, about to speak, but Chris clamped a hand over her mouth. And just like that, the two main parties of the confession were both silenced and dragged away. As we left, I glanced back. Chris’s eyes were dark and inscrutable. Seraphina stared after us, looking dazed. Leo and I ran for our lives.

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My mother collapsed. Suddenly, violently. Before they rushed her into surgery, she clutched my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. “Anna,” she rasped, her voice thin as paper. “Get Justin. You have to get Justin here. There’s something I need to tell him.” I called Justin again and again from the sterile silence of the hospital waiting room, each unanswered ring echoing the frantic beat of my own heart. The calls went straight to voicemail, one after the other, a relentless digital void. I was still trying when the doctor emerged from the operating room, his face a mask of grim sympathy. He walked toward me and gave me that slow, soul-crushing shake of the head. The tightly wound spring inside me snapped. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a call back from Justin’s number. A woman’s voice, sweet and cloying, answered. It was Nina. “Anna? The professor was helping me out with my parents… they were driving me crazy about settling down, and he had a little too much to drink.” Her voice was laced with a triumphant little giggle. “If you need something, you can just tell me.” I stared through the glass at the still, cold form on the gurney that was once my mother. My voice was ice. “Tell Justin Hayes that my mother is dead. And if he still wants that lab equipment, he can come to the hospital and get it.” But Justin never showed. Not even for the funeral. 1 It took only three days to go from my mother’s death to her burial. Three short, agonizing days, and in all that time, Justin was a ghost. Relatives murmured their disapproval, their whispers like wasps buzzing at the edge of my hearing. I pretended not to notice. But I knew. This hollow marriage, this charade I’d been living with Justin, had finally reached its end. After drafting the divorce papers, I tried to reach him again. As always, the calls went unanswered. He’s probably busy, I told myself, the old habit of making excuses for him dying hard. Then I pushed open the front door to our house and saw them. A pair of his polished leather dress shoes, and right beside them, a pair of delicate white sneakers. Not mine. I slipped off my own shoes and stepped inside, my heart a cold stone in my chest. And there he was—Justin, who’d been ghosting me for two weeks—with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, meticulously scrubbing a pair of lace panties, stained crimson, in the bathroom sink. Also not mine. He looked up, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but his hands never stopped their rhythmic work in the soapy water. “Anna. You’re home early. I thought you were at the hospital with your mom.” My mom? The woman I had just buried? Where was I supposed to be with her, heaven or hell? I had imagined this confrontation a hundred times. I’d pictured screaming, crying, a raw, cathartic explosion of pain. Instead, a strange calm washed over me. I felt so empty I didn’t even have the energy to ask him why he was washing another woman’s underwear. He followed my gaze to the sink. “Nina had a little accident,” he said, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. “You know how it is. A girl shouldn’t have to deal with cold water right now.” No hot water in the house, then? I thought numbly. “Right,” I managed. “Finish up. We need to talk.” His eyes lit up, a sudden, greedy spark. “Is the new lab equipment in? Fantastic. I desperately need it for the next phase.” He was already moving past me, already in his own world. “Just have your people deliver it straight to my university lab, Anna. Someone will be there to sign for it. With that shipment, the project will move ahead twice as fast.” Justin was a man possessed by his work. If you were to rank the loves of his life, I used to be number one. Then his research took the top spot. But now… now I wasn’t sure I even made the list. Not when his brilliant little apprentice could get a tenured professor to personally handwash her bloody underwear. A sugary voice drifted from the other room. “Professor? Are you done yet? I think there’s a problem with the new serum… all your little snakey-wakes are dead!” Snakes? A jolt of pure adrenaline shot through me. I shoved past him and sprinted to the small, temperature-controlled room where I kept my pets. Nina was there, wearing nothing but one of Justin’s oversized white button-downs, her long, pale legs on full display. She was chewing on a fingernail, frowning at one of the glass terrariums. In her other hand, she held a syringe, a single drop of clear liquid clinging to its tip. Inside the tank, my beautiful, vibrant collection of pet snakes—creatures I had nurtured for years—were coiled in the corners, twitching feebly. “What did you do to them?” I shoved her away from the glass, my voice a ragged whisper. She stumbled back, clutching her chest in mock horror, a perfectly innocent smile playing on her lips. “Whoa, Anna, you’re so aggressive. I was just testing the new serum. I had to be sure it worked.” The serum? My gaze flew back to the terrarium. In a final, gruesome ballet, the snakes began to convulse violently, white foam bubbling from their mouths before they went rigid. They were dead. The innocent, malicious smile on Nina’s face broke something inside me. My hand flew up, and the sharp crack of my palm against her cheek echoed in the small room. Justin rushed in at the sound, just in time to see Nina clutching her face, tears already streaming down her cheeks. “Professor,” she sobbed, “Anna hit me. It hurts so much.” He swept her into his arms, his face a thundercloud of disappointment directed at me. “Anna, what the hell? Nina is just a student. Can’t you talk things out? Why would you hit her? When did you become so irrational?” Irrational? Me? My finger trembled as I pointed at the glass tank. “She killed them! She killed the pets I’ve had for five years! Do you have any idea how much they meant to me? A slap is the least she deserves!” I rounded on him, my voice rising. “And you! What is she even doing in our house, Justin?” Nina was his graduate student. She called him “Professor” with a familiarity that bordered on intimacy, but she never, ever called me Mrs. Hayes. She was always texting him, video-calling at all hours, angling the camera just so, her voice a breathy purr full of not-so-subtle suggestions. Her pathetic little game was transparent. I’d warned Justin about her. I told him to assign her to another mentor. He’d just laughed, patting my arm condescendingly. “Don’t be so sensitive, Anna. She’s just a student. You don’t have to be jealous of everyone.” I’d trusted him. I knew his parents’ bitter divorce when he was five had left him with a desperate need for loyalty and stability. I believed he would never cross that line. And my reward for that trust? My mother died without seeing him, and my beloved pets were now lifeless props for his little protégé’s experiment. Justin peered into the terrarium, his expression serious. He knew how precious these snakes were. I’d had them imported from all over the world, rare and delicate breeds. He knew the painstaking care I poured into them. Now, it was all gone, erased by one careless girl with a syringe. Nina’s shoulders shook with crocodile tears. “Professor, I didn’t know they belonged to Anna. I thought they were for your research,” she whimpered. “I just wanted to make sure the serum was a success before the press conference. I thought they were like… like the lab rats. I didn’t do it on purpose. Please don’t be mad at me.” Her voice grew smaller, her lip trembling as she bit it, eyes wide and red. She looked like a broken doll. It didn’t stir an ounce of pity in me; it only fed the inferno raging in my chest. “Not on purpose?” I scoffed. “Anyone with a shred of decency knows you don’t touch things that aren’t yours in someone else’s home. You don’t go into rooms you weren’t invited into. You’re what, twenty-five? Don’t tell me you don’t know basic manners, Nina.” She clutched the hem of his shirt, the fabric barely covering her, and looked up at Justin for salvation. “Professor, I really didn’t mean to…” “That’s enough.” Justin put a hand on my shoulder, his touch heavy and placating. “Anna, it’s done. What do you want from her? She said it was an accident. They’re just snakes. I’ll buy you new ones.” He looked at me, a flash of genuine annoyance in his eyes. “You’re the CEO of a major company. You manage thousands of people. Don’t you think you could show a little perspective here?” I flinched. Even though I thought I had no expectations left, the weariness in his voice, the undisguised irritation, still managed to cut me. Childhood friends, seven years of marriage, and I meant less to him than his student. It was pathetic. Wiping a tear from my cheek with the back of my hand, I pulled the folded divorce papers from my purse and held them out to him. “Justin, I want a divorce.” He stared at me, then at the papers, his mind clearly struggling to connect the two. He snatched the document and read it, then read it again, as if the words were in a foreign language. When he finally accepted I wasn’t joking, the carefully constructed mask of composure on his face cracked. “Anna, are you serious?” he hissed. “You want to divorce me because Nina accidentally killed a few of your snakes? Have you lost your mind? Your mother is still in the hospital! You want to do this now? Are you trying to give her a heart attack?” He went on, his voice a torrent of accusations. “They were just snakes! If you love them so much, I’ll buy you ten more, twenty more! You can just start over! Divorce… how can you even say that word?” He laid it on so thick, you’d think I was the one who was being completely unreasonable. But this wasn’t a debate, Justin. The one who talks the loudest isn’t always right. I swiftly signed my name on the line and pushed the papers back toward him. “Sign it. It’ll be much uglier if we drag this through the courts.” My phone rang. A friend. I answered, walking upstairs to get away from him. Her kind words were a balm on my raw nerves. By the time I came back down, Justin was gone. The divorce agreement was ripped to shreds in the bottom of the trash can. The bodies of my snakes were gone, too. No doubt taken by the research fanatic for dissection. On the table sat a small, elegant gift bag. Inside was a designer necklace from last season’s collection. My vision darkened. Justin used to love giving me gifts, things he’d spent weeks picking out, things that showed he knew me. Ever since Nina appeared, they’d been replaced by expensive, thoughtless trinkets. Bracelets, earrings, necklaces… my jewelry box was overflowing with them. Each one was a monument to another lie, another betrayal. The more expensive the gift, the guiltier he felt. And every time before, I had chosen to forgive him. I always went back to that one night, years ago, when I saw a crack in his carefully built armor. He’d looked at me, his eyes red-rimmed and vulnerable, and whispered, “Don’t pity me, Anna. Love me.” It felt like yesterday. That fragile boy was still lodged in my heart, a ghost I felt compelled to protect. It was for him that I forgave Justin for forgetting our fifth anniversary to go stargazing with Nina. For him, I forgave Justin for walking out in the middle of my appendicitis surgery because Nina called him in a panic. I had forgiven him so many times. This time, I was done. The next morning, I told my assistant to contact my lawyer and file for divorce. She paused for a fraction of a second but asked no questions. Instead, she said, “Ma’am, about that new lab equipment… should we still have it sent to Professor Hayes’s research facility?” For years, any new, cutting-edge equipment my company acquired went straight to Justin. But not this time. “No. Send it all to Brookhaven General.” The hospital’s dean, Dean Evans, had been a great help while my mother was sick. He’d mentioned needing a new suite of equipment. This would be a good way to repay his kindness. A series of texts buzzed on my phone. It was an old friend. “Anna, when did you and Justin split?” “I’m at a friend’s wedding, and I just saw him with some girl who’s telling her whole family he’s her boyfriend.” “Look. They’re holding hands and everything. When did this happen? He moves fast.” She sent a short video. It was a wedding reception, loud and joyful. And there was Nina, clinging to Justin’s arm, beaming as she introduced him to a group of older relatives. “This is my boyfriend,” she was saying. Justin stood beside her, smiling, not correcting her. So this was his idea of “helping her deal with her parents.” A bitter, humorless smile touched my lips. As I was texting my friend back, a new contact request popped up on my screen. The message was short and to the point. “Anna, I slept with Justin.” I accepted the request. A photo appeared instantly. It was a picture of them in bed. “You’re old, Anna. You’re not good enough for a man as brilliant as the professor anymore.” “Besides, you’re thirty and you still haven’t given him a child. Can you even have kids?” “I’m different. I’m young, I have a great body. I bet I’ll get pregnant on the first try.” “Oh, and by the way, the professor never used to let me have your number. But this time, he didn’t stop me. What do you think that means?” What did it mean? I didn’t give a damn what it meant. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. My whole body felt like it was cramping, trying to expel a poison that had been building for years. This house, our home, was suffocating me. Every corner was saturated with his presence, his scent, his lies. It made my skin crawl. I called my assistant and told her to find me a new place. Immediately. On the day I was moving out, Dean Evans called to thank me for the equipment and invited me to dinner. I accepted. I didn’t expect him to invite Justin. And Justin, of course, brought Nina. They were dressed in matching shades of blue, like a couple. Her hand was firmly tucked into the crook of his arm, and she didn’t let go even when she saw me. Justin smoothly extracted his arm and guided Nina to the seats next to mine. He leaned in, his voice a low murmur. “Dean Evans has a partnership with the university. I thought it would be a good networking opportunity for Nina. Don’t get the wrong idea.” I gave him a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. What was there left to misunderstand? He seemed to take my silence as acceptance and visibly relaxed. During the meal, I chatted with the Dean while Justin dutifully placed food on Nina’s plate. She took a bite, her voice dripping with sugar. “Oh, Justin, this is delicious! You always know exactly what I like. How do you know me so well?” The atmosphere at the table froze. Nina covered her mouth, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Oh, Anna, don’t get the wrong idea. The professor was just helping me because I was too shy to get food myself.” Justin, his expression unreadable, picked up a piece of cucumber and dropped it onto my plate. He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten that I hated cucumber. “Nina’s just a bit timid,” he said coolly. “Don’t mind her, Anna. She’s just a kid.” I set down my fork, my appetite gone. But with an outsider present, I couldn’t make a scene. That would just be giving them a show. The Dean, a perceptive man, immediately sensed the tension. He deftly changed the subject, steering the conversation until he finally landed on the lab equipment. He raised his glass to me. “Ms. Vance, I truly can’t thank you enough for that equipment. You have no idea what a lifesaver it’s been for the hospital. Words can’t express my gratitude, so let this toast do the talking.” Justin frowned. “What equipment? And Anna, speaking of, why haven’t you sent that shipment to my lab yet? My next round of experiments is completely dependent on it.” I took a sip of my wine. “I already gave that equipment to Dean Evans,” I said calmly. Justin froze. His face went from confusion to a dark, thunderous rage, but he managed to bottle it up. For now. The Dean, oblivious, continued to make polite conversation. Justin’s responses became clipped and cold. The second the dinner was over, his control shattered. He cornered me on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. “Anna, why would you give that equipment to him? You know that was the most advanced system out of Germany! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for it?” His voice was a low, furious growl. “What has gotten into you lately? You’re not acting like yourself. Are you seeing someone else?” The accusation, the sheer hypocrisy of it, was almost laughable. I was about to answer when a familiar voice cut through the night. “Anna? I can’t believe I’d run into you here.” It was Liam, an old friend. “I heard about your mother. I’m so sorry, I got back too late.” He put a gentle hand on my arm. “My condolences.” “Condolences?” Justin’s brow furrowed in confusion. He looked from Liam to me, completely lost. “What condolences? Who died?”

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