My brother, Ethan Hayes, was born a total romantic. But even more so, he was the ultimate doting big brother, loving me, his sister Chloe, more than any woman. On my first day of kindergarten, I got into major trouble. Ethan immediately ditched his girlfriend, who was threatening to jump from somewhere, and rushed to school to clean up my mess. After that, Ethan was constantly busy solving my problems, leaving him no time for dating. Until one day, I got into a fight with a classmate, and our parents were called in. Ethan arrived, looking furious, but then froze when he saw the other parent. It was Eleanor Mitchell, his unattainable first love. I kept my head down, not daring to speak, terrified that their old flame would spark again. Eleanor elegantly ran a hand through her hair, speaking in a condescending tone: “It’s just two kids fighting, and I don’t think she’s too hurt. Considering our history, if Chloe apologizes, we can let it go.” The next second, Ethan’s face darkened. “Are you crazy? Who do you think you are, to even mention my sister in the same breath?”

The new transfer student introduced herself at the podium. Her voice was timid: “Hi everyone, my name is Daisy Mitchell. I hope you’ll like me.” The moment I saw her, alarm bells went off. When Ethan was younger, he was completely obsessed with a woman named Eleanor Mitchell. She’d threaten to jump from a building in the middle of the night during a breakup, and Ethan would spend all night on the rooftop with her. Turns out, she was just trying to make the guy she secretly liked jealous. That guy was an animal lover, so she suddenly wanted a cat. Ethan specifically found a gentle kitten and gave it to her. The moment she found out she was pregnant, she heartlessly abandoned the cat. Ethan brought it home, and it’s still living with us. Until I started kindergarten, I was constantly getting into trouble – small incidents every other day, major ones every third. Fighting and messing up the house became commonplace, and parents across the entire school united to complain. Ethan had to pull himself away from Eleanor and spent every day dealing with my messes. I’d seen Eleanor’s photo on Ethan’s phone, so the first time I saw the transfer student, I knew something was wrong. Especially when I heard her name was Daisy Mitchell, despair clenched my heart. Eleanor Mitchell’s daughter was named Daisy Mitchell. The homeroom teacher scanned the room, then looked at me: “Chloe Hayes, Daisy Mitchell, you can sit next to her for now.” I immediately stood up, stubbornly refusing: “Teacher, I’m usually too rowdy. It wouldn’t be good if I led the new student astray. You should pick someone else.” But the teacher, a bit impatient, waved her hand: “Just sit there for now; we’ll change seats in a couple of days.” Daisy walked over and sat down. I shuffled further away. “Slam!” “Clatter!” She took things out of her backpack and threw them onto the desk with loud thuds. I thought, How bizarre. Is this person crazy or something? I moved further away, not wanting to catch her bad mood. The next second, she suddenly slammed her backpack down, buried her face in the desk, and started crying. A classmate behind me whispered: “Hey, Chloe, did you bully the new kid?” I was stunned, still processing what was happening. Daisy suddenly lifted her head, her eyes red, glaring at me and demanding: “Do you hate me? Do you look down on me?!” I blinked: “Huh?” Daisy’s voice grew louder, shrill: “You do look down on me! You humiliated me in front of the whole class. How dare you treat me like this?” I frowned: “I said my personality was difficult and I didn’t want to affect you. Is that wrong?” If I can’t fight her, I can sure avoid her, right? Daisy cried and accused: “It’s my first day, and I made a mistake writing just now. You clearly saw I didn’t have an eraser, but you deliberately didn’t lend me one. You just wanted to see me embarrassed!” “And you intentionally rolled up your sleeve so I’d see that diamond bracelet on your wrist! Weren’t you just showing off?” “So what if your name is Chloe Hayes? Does that make you better than me?!” I was utterly shocked. When did I see she didn’t have an eraser? I hadn’t even looked at her! And my bracelet? It’s on my wrist, I can wear it how I want. What’s it to her? As for her name, if she hates it, she should ask her mom to change it! What’s it to me? Her string of accusations instantly reminded me of her mother, Eleanor Mitchell. Back then, Ethan took her to a fancy restaurant, and she claimed he was deliberately using money to humiliate her humble background. Ethan missed her call because he was working late, so she sent dozens of texts, accusing him of cheating, then blocked him. She only forgave him after he stood in the rain outside her house all night. These two, mother and daughter, were sensitive in exactly the same way. My anger shot straight to my head, and I rolled my eyes. “You’re crazy!”

Daisy froze, startled by my outburst, her shoulders shaking, crying so hard she gasped for air between sobs. It made me look like I’d just publicly bullied her. The other students couldn’t help but start whispering. “Isn’t the new student a bit sensitive? She cried just because no one offered her an eraser?” “Chloe can be hot-headed, sure… but what does that have to do with her name?” “And Chloe’s always worn that bracelet. I never even noticed if it was diamonds…” Daisy’s crying grew louder. The class monitor, seeing she couldn’t handle it, ran to the office to get the teacher. The homeroom teacher rushed in, looking at Daisy, who was on the verge of collapsing from crying, then at me, sitting there defiantly. She slapped the desk, pointing at me and yelling: “Chloe Hayes! Can’t you just be quiet for one day?” I was fuming, about to open my mouth to explain: “Teacher, it was her…” “Shut up!” The teacher completely ignored me. “Everyone in this grade knows your temper! You’re always causing trouble at school!” “Apologize to Daisy Mitchell right now!” I didn’t move. Why should I apologize to her? The teacher snapped: “You won’t apologize, huh?” “I can’t deal with you. I’m calling your parents right now!” Before, I wouldn’t have cared about calling my parents. Ethan was a regular at school; he was used to it, and so was I. But not now. I looked at Daisy’s face, so similar to Eleanor’s, and felt a surge of unease. What if Ethan saw her and remembered Eleanor again? I took a deep breath, swallowing my anger. I lowered my head and gritted out: “I’m sorry.” … Seething with anger, the moment the dismissal bell rang, I bolted out of the classroom. I sprinted out the school gates and dove into the passenger seat of Ethan’s car. Ethan jumped, nearly dropping his cigarette: “Chloe Hayes, is there a ghost chasing you?” “Drive! Drive now!” I urged frantically. Ethan looked bewildered: “What happened? Did you beat up another kid? Or did a dog chase you?” I was desperate: “Just drive, don’t ask so many questions!” Ethan frowned, still wanting to ask: “Chloe Hayes, tell me honestly…” But I didn’t answer, pretending to grab the steering wheel. Ethan, exasperated by my urging, stomped on the gas and started the car. Only after the car pulled away did I see Daisy just stepping out of the school gate. That was close. Ethan almost saw her. Ethan steered with one hand: “Alright, tell me. What kind of trouble did you get into at school today?” I guiltily looked out the window: “Can’t I just want to go home early and do my homework?” “You? Do homework? You’d rather the sky fall than do your homework.” Ethan ruffled my hair, his tone tinged with helplessness: “Chloe Hayes, when are you going to give me a break?” Back home, I was uncharacteristically quiet, neither teasing the cat nor messing up the house. Ethan was playing games on the sofa, and I pretended to reach for the remote, craning my neck to peek at his screen. Ethan noticed, flipped his phone face down, and raised an eyebrow at me: “What is it? If you need money, just say so.” I acted nonchalant: “Just checking what you’re up to.” “Busy saving up for your bail.” He retorted dryly. I walked behind the sofa, continuing my probing: “Ethan, do you have anyone you like right now?” Of course, I didn’t dare ask him directly if he still remembered Eleanor. What if he’d almost forgotten, and my question just made him think of her again? Ethan paused, then lightly flicked my head. “I’m too busy bailing you out; where would I find the time for anyone else?” I breathed a sigh of relief. As long as I kept them strictly apart, Ethan wouldn’t revert to his old self, right?

The next day, I made up my mind to stay far away from Daisy Mitchell. But she wouldn’t quit. After class, Daisy went to the water cooler for a drink. When she came back, her foot suddenly slipped. A cup of water spilled all over me. The water drenched my hair and clothes, and the books on my desk were wet too. Luckily, the school water cooler only had lukewarm water, so I wasn’t scalded. My anger shot straight to my head, and I kicked my chair back. “Are you blind?!” Daisy shrank her shoulders, looking innocent: “I just did it by accident. Why are you so mean… I know you’ve always had it in for me, but I really didn’t mean it.” I laughed in exasperation: “Not on purpose? Fine. Then I’ll throw you into the fountain downstairs and say I didn’t mean it. How about that?” Daisy froze, then squatted down and started crying: “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have bumped into you. I’m new, I don’t know the rules, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” The girl in the front seat tugged my sleeve. “Chloe, just let it go. She apologized, and she’s new.” “Yeah, look how she’s crying. She probably didn’t mean it.” I clenched my fists, furious. I was the one who got soaked, but now I was being called aggressive. I’ve always had a short fuse; in the past, I would have slapped her already. But now, thinking about the consequences of calling parents, I bit down hard and held back. I could only kick my desk, grit my teeth, and go back to my seat to dry my clothes. I thought if I just put up with it, things would be fine once we changed seats. But in the afternoon, the homeroom teacher walked into the classroom with a grim face. Behind her, wiping away tears, was Daisy Mitchell. The teacher’s voice was icy: “Chloe Hayes, stand up.” I was completely baffled. If Daisy was complaining about the water incident, my clothes were still wet. How could she possibly be in the right? But the teacher slammed her hand on the podium and demanded: “Daisy Mitchell’s tuition money is missing. Have you seen it?” I sneered: “Her money’s missing? Why are you asking me?” Daisy hid behind the teacher, looking as if she was afraid of me. “Teacher, I didn’t say she took it. I just said I put it in my backpack, and only my deskmate could have seen it…” She timidly glanced at me, then quickly lowered her head. I exploded on the spot: “What do you mean by that? I haven’t even looked in your backpack!” Daisy put on a pitiful act, crying and trembling: “I really didn’t say you took it. Why are you so upset?… That’s money my mom saved up for ages. Chloe Hayes, please, give it back to me.” The atmosphere around us completely changed. “Chloe Hayes is always fighting. I didn’t expect her to be a thief too.” “No wonder Daisy just spilled a little water, and Chloe looked like she wanted to kill someone. Was she feeling guilty?” “It can’t be, her family is pretty rich, right?” “Who knows? Maybe she just wanted to mess with someone.” I looked speechless: “My family needs your money? If I stole your money, are you crazy or am I?” The teacher roared: “Chloe Hayes! Fix your attitude!” Daisy cried even harder, still complaining. “Teacher, look at her. She’s been targeting me since the first day. Even now, in front of you, she dares to insult people…” A girl next to us also spoke up: “Exactly. I saw it with my own eyes just now, Chloe Hayes’s expression was terrifying, like she was about to hit someone. Everyone knows Chloe Hayes has a bad temper, deliberately bullying new students.” I was shaking with rage: “That’s bull! You were the one who deliberately bumped me and spilled water!” But the teacher’s suspicion grew, filled with disappointment. My reputation was so bad, no one believed me. I stared at Daisy, gritting my teeth and asking: “You say you brought tuition money, who saw you bring it?” “Are you just broke and trying to scam people at school for tuition?” Daisy was utterly humiliated by that comment, crying so hard she almost passed out. “You stole my money and then accused me of scamming! Are you trying to drive me to my death?!” The teacher looked at one girl crying hysterically and another seething with hostility. Our school’s tuition wasn’t a small amount. She frowned: “This amount is too large; I can’t handle it. Call your parents.”

My heart sank. Daisy Mitchell’s parent, that would be Eleanor Mitchell, wouldn’t it? If Ethan came to school, he’d run right into Eleanor. I pursed my lips, so annoyed. I said bluntly: “Teacher, no need to call my parents. I’ll pay for the money.” The teacher was stunned. “Chloe Hayes, do you know how much our school tuition is?” I said impatiently: “Isn’t it just a few tens of thousands of dollars?” “I’ll give her my allowance. Let’s just drop this.” But I immediately added: “I can cover the money, but I didn’t steal it.” This was my bottom line. I was willing to pay to end the trouble, but I wouldn’t admit to stealing. The teacher frowned, seemingly weighing her options. If I was willing to pay, it would save her trouble. But Daisy wasn’t having it; she shrieked. “Teacher! Look, she’s feeling guilty. If she didn’t steal it, why is she so eager to pay it back?” “And this is a matter of character! If there’s a thief in the class, today she steals my tuition, tomorrow will she steal more things?” She cried and called her mom. Not long after, Eleanor Mitchell arrived. She listened to the teacher’s brief explanation, then turned and grabbed Daisy’s ear, cursing: “You brat! You couldn’t even keep track of your tuition money! Don’t you know how long it took me to save that money? How many times have I told you to keep money on you? Do you have a brain?” I stood there, stunned. This was the woman Ethan had loved to death back then? The first thought that came to my mind was disappointment. Her? What was Ethan’s taste back then? Daisy covered her ear, pointing at me: “It was her, she stole it!” Eleanor turned to look at me, sizing me up. When she saw the designer labels on my clothes, her eyes changed. She looked down at me. “So you’re the one who stole the money?” “Where are your parents? Teaching their child to be a thieving brat?” I suppressed my anger: “I told you I didn’t steal the money.” “But if you need this money for tuition, I can pay for it upfront.” My words struck Eleanor Mitchell’s sensitive and fragile nerve. Eleanor exploded on the spot. “You didn’t steal it? If you didn’t steal it, why are you paying it back? Aren’t you just guilty?” “You’re a thief! So young and already learning to steal things!” Finally, she sneered, stating definitively: “It must be you who stole it; maybe the money is in your backpack right now!” With that, she snatched my backpack, spilling all its contents onto the floor with a clatter. I clenched my fists, watching my belongings get scattered, and held back. She turned it inside out, finding nothing, of course. Eleanor wouldn’t give up, narrowing her eyes at me: “You’ve hidden it on you, haven’t you?” I stepped back: “I told you, no.” She walked closer to me, disdainfully: “It’s on you, you’re just afraid I’ll find it, aren’t you?” What a joke! Of course, I wouldn’t agree! But her hand shot out, grabbing my collar, her mouth spewing obscenities. “If you don’t take it off, you’re guilty! You little brat, hurry up!” Her rough nails scraped my neck, burning. I’d never been so humiliated in my life. My temper instantly flared. To hell with old flames, to hell with enduring this. I lifted my foot and kicked her hard in the stomach. “Get lost! You crazy hag!” Eleanor looked utterly disbelieving. I fought back, scratching her. “Ah!” she cried out in pain, raising her hand and slapping me hard across the face. “You little brat! You dare hit back?” Suddenly, hurried footsteps came from outside the classroom. I turned and saw Ethan Hayes, his face grim. I covered my face, saying nothing, feeling deeply guilty. Ethan had still come. He had still seen Eleanor. And Eleanor, who was still grabbing my neck, suddenly released me. She instinctively ran a hand through her hair, flashing a shy smile. Ethan strode in. He radiated an oppressive aura, with several men in black suits following behind him. Eleanor’s eyes lit up when she saw Ethan. She dropped her shrewish demeanor, acting as if she were weak and helpless. Her voice was sweet and delicate: “Ethan…”

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It was the fifth year of my mate bond with Alpha Alexander Hayes. Our pack was under attack. As an enemy’s claws ripped across my abdomen, my mate, Alpha Alexander, was shielding another pregnant wolf. It was Vivian Wells, his former fated mate, who took Elder Eleanor’s money and abandoned him to move abroad. He didn’t know that moments ago, I had lost our child, and that I had already submitted an application to Elder Eleanor to leave this pack forever. A year later, on the day I finally awakened my ancient bloodline and became Luna Queen Amelia Clarke, Alexander appeared with our rings, begging me to look back at him. But I would never look back again. Amelia POV I was a wolf who couldn’t shift. I was also Alexander Hayes’ mate, bound to him in a forced alliance. I once yearned for us to have a happy life. But by the fifth year of our marriage, I no longer wished for children with Alexander, letting the nursery remain piled with clutter. I no longer waited for him for dinner, no longer dragged him to pack gatherings, and even on our anniversary this year, I just left the pack. When I was attacked and my abdomen was torn open, it wasn’t as painful as I’d imagined. It was only when the healer told me my injuries were too severe and suggested a hysterectomy. A bitter smile crossed my lips. “Amelia, don’t you want to be a mother?” I looked at the man’s reddened eyes, suppressing the turmoil within me. My face remained calm, like a still pond. Alexander seemed to be fighting some emotion. He turned to the healer and strictly instructed, “I will mobilize all resources. You must save her uterus.” As I was moved into the healer’s special treatment room, I vaguely recalled the last time I was here. It was for a miscarriage. Where was Alexander then? He was with his former fated mate, Vivian Wells, the wolf Alexander’s mother had ordered to leave. The treatment lasted nearly six hours. When I awoke, I faintly heard the healer’s assistants discussing outside the door. “Alpha Alexander is downstairs with his mate for a prenatal check-up. Even a tiny kick makes him so nervous he almost calls all the healers. That’s top-tier devotion!” These healers, who belonged to the Wolf Council, didn’t know us personally. So they easily identified who Alexander truly cared about. The door opened, and Alexander walked in, bringing with him a chill. He had clearly heard the discussion too. He opened his mouth to explain, but subconsciously glanced at me, lying on the bed. I just stared out the window, pretending I heard nothing. Alexander frowned, looking somewhat annoyed. He spoke in a cold voice to the healer’s assistant, “This is my mate, the Luna of Ironclaw Pack. The one downstairs… is a friend’s mate.” As he spoke, he kept observing my reaction. I simply kept my eyes lowered, my face showing no joy, nor any jealousy. In the past, I would always argue with him over Vivian, demanding he cut ties with her. Now, hearing his clarification, I no longer felt like showing happiness. He reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from my ear, but a crisp knock on the door interrupted him. It was Vivian, her belly noticeably round. Her breathing was slightly rapid, and her eyes were filled with concern. “Alexander said Amelia was here too. I was worried, so I came to check.” Before I could react, Alexander quickly strode over, scooped Vivian up in his arms, and gently carried her to the sofa. “You’re in your third trimester, don’t run around so much.” The worry in his tone twisted like a silver needle, piercing deep into my heart. Alexander seemed to realize something and turned, attempting to explain, “Amelia, don’t misunderstand, Vivian, she…” But his words were cut off by my forced smile. “Vivian, carrying a child is tough. Michael is busy with work, so as a friend, it’s only right for you to be attentive.” Michael, my adoptive brother. He was also the current Alpha of my birth pack, Frostbane Pack. We used to be very close, but now I’d called Michael by his name, my tone polite yet distant. Alexander’s eyes darkened. At noon, Alexander’s order from the top-tier hotel across the street was delivered to the room precisely on time. Vivian also joined us for the meal. The table was laden with French seafood bisque, pan-seared sea bass, and garlic butter shrimp… Alexander first put a piece of fish on my plate, then another on Vivian’s. “These are all high in protein, good for your health.” I stared at the fish on my plate, my eyes blank. I’m severely allergic to seafood. Not just fish, but even touching seafood broth could send me into anaphylactic shock. Five years of living together, and he had never remembered. Vivian noticed I hadn’t touched my fork, so she stopped eating too, a look of grievance on her face. “I’m here, Amelia must be uncomfortable.” Her perfectly timed retreat made me look like the unreasonable one. She stood up, preparing to leave, but Alexander grabbed her arm, pulling her back. He put his arm around Vivian and frowned at me. “Amelia, don’t throw a fit.” But the moment he spoke, I had already dipped my spoon into the soup and took a small sip of the deadly liquid. Alexander smiled, satisfied, and explained softly, “This bisque simmered for over ten hours. This restaurant is very famous.” The next second, Vivian’s phone rang. After a few responses, she stood up and said, “My maternity photos are ready. The photographer asked me to pick them up.” Alexander rose with her, taking her hand. “I’ll drive you…” Halfway through his sentence, he turned to look at me, seemingly uneasy about leaving me alone. I could already feel my throat tightening, my breathing becoming difficult, my whole body felt like it was roasting over a fire. I wanted to tell Alexander I was allergic, that I might die. But as my gaze fell on his hand, tightly clasping Vivian’s, I finally shook my head, struggling to force out a few words: “I’m fine.” Alexander moved as if a switch had been flipped, walking swiftly to help Vivian out of the room. I heard the healer’s assistant exclaim, “Patient 26 is showing symptoms of shock! Prepare for emergency resuscitation immediately!” That was my bed number. Through the elevator doors, just before they closed, I thought I saw Alexander glance back. But the last image before my eyes closed was of him wrapping Vivian’s hand in his palm, carefully cautioning her, “It’s cold outside, be careful not to catch a chill.”

Amelia POV When I woke again, I felt a sense of surreal relief, as if I had narrowly escaped death. My mind hazy, I recalled the first time I met Alexander. He was the Alpha heir of Ironclaw Pack, and I was the adoptive daughter of Frostbane Pack’s Alpha. Everyone cheered for the alliance between the two packs. But I knew he had already found his fated mate. Only for this alliance, Alexander’s mother had sent that woman away. This mate bond tore apart two deeply loving souls, which was why he hated me. After that, he often met with various women and didn’t stop them from spreading rumors, just to make me feel humiliated. I never resisted, just quietly cleaned up the messes he left behind. Until that time I went to a bar to pick up a drunken Alexander and bring him back to pack territory. A tipsy Alexander suddenly found strength, pinning me against a cold marble wall. He slammed a fist next to my ear. “Amelia, aren’t you ashamed?” I just turned my face away, calmly saying, “You’re drunk. I’m taking you home.” His sharp features softened into a rare vulnerability, his voice hoarse and broken. “She took my mother’s check and went abroad… Amelia, no one will ever love me.” My heart ached for him. I pulled out a tissue and handed it to him, comforting him. “I won’t leave you…” Before I could finish, Alexander’s overwhelming kiss cut off my words. That kiss was like lighting a fuse, instantly consuming all of Alexander’s reason. I don’t remember how difficult that night was, only that my chin rested on his shoulder, and he repeatedly coaxed me to call his name. After that night, other women stopped appearing around Alexander. Even when he had business engagements, he would report to me. He bought a garden and filled it with roses. He said, “Amelia, my love for you is like these roses, passionate and eternal.” On the day of Michael’s formal mate ceremony, Alexander prepared a lavish gift. Mid-party, I went to the lounge to find him, only to accidentally walk in on Alexander pinning a woman down on the sofa. He roared like an aggrieved child. “Why did you abandon me to marry a cripple? Vivian, you’re truly something!” I stumbled and fell by the door, my blood instantly freezing. I was in agony and despair, yet I unexpectedly discovered I was pregnant. I started tracking his whereabouts because Vivian and Alexander were constantly arguing. As a woman, my heart was dead; but as a mother, I still wanted to keep this family together. But he always looked tired. “Stop it. We’re over. I just feel bad for Vivian, being pregnant and all.” Until the last joint hunting festival held by the two packs, when Vivian and I were both attacked by a beast. He, citing Vivian’s pregnancy, didn’t hesitate to shield her first and lead her away. And my child, before it could even fully form, was gone forever. In the hospital room, I broke down and demanded, “Didn’t you see the blood under me? Do you know…?” I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about the baby before he impatiently slammed the door shut and left. “Amelia, don’t make a fuss over your period. Do you know Vivian almost lost her baby because of you?” So… he thought I was responsible for that accidental attack? I knew no matter how much I argued, Alexander would never believe me again. Thankfully, I had no lingering affection for him either. A notification from my phone on the pillow brought me back from my memories. I slid open the screen. It was from Alexander’s mother, Eleanor. “I will agree to your departure. I can also help you break your mate bond, but it will take some time.” Normally, breaking a mate bond required Alexander to reject me. But Eleanor, as the pack’s Elder Luna, had certain privileges granted by the Moon Goddess. A clear tear slipped from the corner of my eye. Five years of mate bond, finally coming to an end.

Amelia POV Alexander had been constantly by my side lately. He would drive for hours to buy my favorite French pastries, peel oranges perfectly clean, and even feed me himself. My response to him was always a lukewarm “Thank you.” Alexander had recently bought a new villa. It was closer to Frostbane Pack. His public explanation was that it was for easier cooperation with Frostbane Pack. And: “I was worried my Luna would miss home, so I chose this house.” Outsiders praised his deep affection for me, unaware that directly opposite his study was the guest room where Vivian was temporarily staying. I wasn’t sure if he was worried about me missing home, or if he couldn’t bear to be far from Vivian next door. As soon as we returned home, the maid began to brew tea. While serving it, she accidentally spilled tea on the documents on the table. The servant apologized profusely, “I’m so sorry, Luna Amelia, I didn’t mean to.” I casually tossed the soaked documents into the trash can. “It’s nothing important, don’t worry about it.” Alexander, who was usually a neat freak, pulled it out of the trash and carefully wiped it clean. “Amelia, this is the nursery blueprint you designed yourself. I was just about to give it to the construction team. Why would you just throw it away?” I answered almost instinctively, “It’s not needed anymore.” Alexander gripped my wrist, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Taking Vivian to New York on our anniversary was thoughtless of me, but you don’t need to be childish about the baby.” I desperately wanted to say that I wasn’t being childish, that we would soon no longer be mates, and that I wouldn’t be having children with him. But before I could, Alexander’s phone rang. That familiar, soft feminine voice came through. “Alexander, I think someone’s following me…” “Send me your location. Try to go somewhere crowded.” Watching Alexander grab his car keys and rush out in a panic, I finally swallowed my words. I pushed open the nursery door and began to clear out everything I had prepared for a new life, the tiny clothes, the toys, all to be thrown away. As I tossed the last box, the night wind, carrying snowflakes, blew across my face. The heart that once eagerly awaited that new life finally settled into silence. The moment I turned, a sack was abruptly thrown over my head! Before I could struggle, a sharp pain shot through the back of my neck. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness completely. When I woke again, I found myself still inside the sack, my hands tied behind my back, my mouth tightly gagged with cloth. Behind me, a man’s rough voice reported, “Alpha Alexander, this is the one who hired us to kidnap Miss Vivian and threatened to kill the child in her belly.” Another person added, “That’s right, Alpha Alexander, we were just doing it for the money.” My heart instantly went cold. Alpha Alexander? Alexander? Vivian’s voice, timid and weak, spoke up. “Alexander, I’m fine, really. Maybe we should just let it go…” Alexander let out a cold laugh, his voice infused with a cruelty I had never heard before. “Let it go?” I couldn’t see, but I could imagine his expression at that moment. “He wanted your life and the baby’s. I have to get revenge for you.” “Take him to the pool downstairs. Let him learn his lesson.” As his words fell, my heart instantly trembled. Before I could resist, several men came forward, grabbed me, and dragged me like a dead dog to a pool filled with broken ice. The biting cold instantly spread from my toes throughout my body. The more I struggled, the faster I sank, the chill piercing my skin like needles. I lifted my head, trying to surface for a breath, but as soon as I took one, I was pushed back under the water again. After several repetitions, the air in my lungs dwindled, replaced by an intense feeling of suffocation. I coughed violently, water mixed with blood streaming from my lungs, until I no longer had the strength to struggle. Vivian, feigning concern, called out, “Enough! He’s going to die!” “It’s not enough,”Alexander’s voice rang out from above. Immediately after, I felt a leather shoe press down hard on my fingers, grinding them with force. “I want to make sure he can never harm anyone again.” With that, he delivered a brutal kick to my abdomen, right where I’d just had surgery. Before I could recover, my entire body slid back into the icy pool. A sharp object at the bottom of the pool tore through the sack. Through the hole, I struggled to float back up. Vivian, however, was looking directly at me, a mocking smile on her face. Then she conveniently collapsed into Alexander’s arms. “Alexander, I don’t feel so good…” Alexander immediately turned and embraced Vivian, his voice becoming incredibly gentle. “There, there. Were you scared? I’ll take you to the healer.” With that, he picked up Vivian and waved to the men behind him. “Don’t bother with that loser in the water.” Through the gap, I saw Alexander’s resolute back as he walked away. After countless attempts, I finally managed to crawl out of the pool. I rubbed the ropes against the stones at the edge of the pool until they broke, enduring the searing pain in my abdomen, and found my dropped phone in the grass. I unlocked the screen. It was a message from Alexander: “Working late tonight, get some rest.”

Amelia POV Staring at the screen, I suddenly laughed, tears streaming down my face. His so-called “work”was to get revenge for Vivian, repeatedly pushing me into icy water, almost drowning me, and then spending the entire night by Vivian’s side? Clutching my phone, I called an Uber and headed to the hospital. All the way there, the cramping in my abdomen grew more intense. I could feel blood constantly seeping out. I bit my lip, making no sound. I dragged myself into the clinic, heading towards the emergency room. No healer came for a long time. “When will the healer be here?”I grabbed a passing nurse. The nurse looked troubled. “I’m sorry, our clinic’s two best healers were just urgently called away… I heard it was Alpha Alexander, for a pregnant friend of his…” My ears buzzed. Ironclaw Pack’s Alpha, Alexander, had done all this for Vivian. “Or… perhaps you could contact your own pack’s healer?” The nurse assistant suggested. I hesitated for a moment, then picked up my phone and dialed Michael. “Michael,”I said, “can you find me a healer?” On the other end, Michael’s voice was cold. “Now you remember to call me?” He continued, “Amelia, I want you to understand. From the day you insisted on marrying Alexander, you ceased to be my sister.” The nurse took the phone, speaking urgently. “Sir! This lady’s condition is critical, she needs immediate treatment! Otherwise, her life is in danger! Are you her family? Can you…?” But Michael, after hearing it, remained utterly unmoved. “She brought this all upon herself.” The call ended with a dial tone, and my last hope died completely. At the time, to repay Frostbane Pack for adopting me, I disregarded Michael’s objections and entered into an alliance with Ironclaw Pack, consolidating our pack’s interests. On the day we officially became mates, Michael, on his way back from abroad, had an accident and was saved by Vivian. To repay Vivian, he gave her high status and wealth. But after that accident, he completely ignored me, even hated me. He believed that if I hadn’t insisted on the alliance, he wouldn’t have had the accident, so even if I died outside, it was my own fault. I don’t know how long passed. My consciousness was already blurry. The bright, blinding light of the surgical lamp finally appeared, then I fell into a deep sleep. Vaguely, I heard the healer say, “Excessive blood loss, the original uterine injury has ruptured again, a complete hysterectomy is necessary…” The surgery was done by midnight. After the anesthetic wore off, a hollow, dull ache radiated from my abdomen. That night, Eleanor sent me a new text message. “I’ve secured temporary residency for you in a pack in Switzerland. You can go there to rest for a while after you leave.” During my recovery after surgery, I became unusually quiet. My body was healing, but something inside me was permanently empty. My friend Julia Davis came to see me. After waiting for a long time and not seeing Alexander, she pulled out her phone. “Amelia, where’s that busy husband of yours?” I quickly grabbed Julia’s hand before she could dial. “He’s busy with work. This isn’t a big deal for me.” “Not a big deal?”Julia looked exasperated. “Amelia, you can never have children again. How is that not a big deal? And he still has time for work?” “Julia, I’m leaving.” Under Julia’s surprised gaze, I calmly continued, “Soon, I won’t be Ironclaw Pack’s Luna, and perhaps not even Frostbane Pack’s Alpha’s sister.” “Is he going to reject you?!”Julia seemed never to have considered such a possibility, as to outsiders, Alexander appeared to be very much in love with me. Seeing I didn’t want to elaborate, she didn’t press further and left to buy me lunch. When she returned, her breathing was ragged, clearly very angry. “Amelia, do you know what I overheard in the hallway?”She slammed the lunchbox down. “The nurses outside said Alpha Alexander has been with Vivian in the next room all week! He even booked the entire floor for her!” I smiled, my eyes glinting slightly, silently acknowledging it. Julia hugged me protectively, indignant on my behalf. “Amelia, if you’re not up to it, I’ll go deal with that Vivian for you! She’s taking advantage!” I patted her shoulder, comforting her. “It’s fine. I no longer love Alexander.” As soon as the words left my lips, the hospital room door was pushed open, and a deep male voice came from behind us. “What do you mean ‘no longer love’?”

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On my way home from work, I bought some oranges for twenty-two dollars. I was in the middle of asking the vendor if he could knock off two bucks when my boyfriend Ethan suddenly slapped me across the face. “God, you’re embarrassing. Making a scene over two dollars.” “Looks like Rena was right about you all along. You really did let her mom die just because you were short a dollar on her medication.” “If I’d known what kind of person you were, I would’ve chosen Rena when the kidnappers gave me a choice. I should’ve saved her, not you.” He grabbed the bag of oranges out of my hands and threw them on the ground. Then he walked away without looking back. I stood there watching him go. The vendor didn’t know what to do. He quickly scooped up another bag of oranges and held them out to me. I shook my head. I didn’t want the oranges. I didn’t want him either. Ethan didn’t come home all night. I sat staring at the oranges scattered across the table, feeling a hollow kind of sadness settle in my chest. The scene this afternoon had been loud enough to attract a crowd. Someone had filmed it and posted it to social media. “She’s a gold digger, plain and simple.” “Spent all his money and now she’s pinching pennies over a few oranges. Pathetic.” “Can’t blame the guy. Anyone would lose it.” The comments piled on, one after another. The video spread fast. I told myself it didn’t matter. Just gossip. It would pass. Then I saw Ethan’s account. He had liked every single comment attacking me. My heart skipped a beat. For a moment, I couldn’t process it. So that’s what he really thinks of me. Seven years together. Seven years of watching every dollar, cutting every corner. If Ethan hadn’t crashed his business and buried us in debt, I never would have haggled over two dollars in the first place. Everything I did, I did for him. And somehow, in the end, he decided I was the villain. My eyes filled with tears before I could stop them. Everything blurred. And without meaning to, my mind drifted back through all the years with Ethan. This morning he had pressed a soft kiss to my forehead before he left. At lunch he had gotten annoyed that I’d ordered cheap takeout, then turned around and cooked a proper meal and brought it to my office himself. And then, just a few hours later, he became someone I didn’t recognize. My cheek still throbbed where he’d hit me. I couldn’t make sense of it. That was when my phone rang. It was my best friend, Lily. I wiped my face fast and swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. She’d probably seen the post. And the likes. I was going to tell her I was fine. But she spoke first. “I just saw Ethan walk into a club with a woman.” “I think it’s… Rena.” The name hit me like cold water. I made her repeat it. Asked again and again, until I heard the certainty in her voice. “That can’t be right. Rena moved abroad years ago.” “And Ethan deleted all her contacts right in front of me. He even changed his phone number. He did it himself…” My voice trailed off without me noticing. I was running through every detail in my head, desperate to prove that Ethan and Rena had truly cut ties. But I couldn’t lie to myself. Lily had gone to school with Rena. She wouldn’t mistake her. When the truth finally landed, the strength went out of my legs. I slid down to the floor. Breathing became difficult. I forced myself up and stumbled toward Ethan’s home office. Ethan had always been particular about that room. From the day we moved in together, he’d made one thing clear: I was never to go inside. Looking back now, that terrified me. I didn’t care about his rules anymore. I tore through the entire room. I found it at the back of a cabinet. A box. My hands were shaking when I opened it. Inside were letters. All from Rena. Packed in so tight there was barely room for another. The dates were recent. The most recent one from just a week ago. “Ethan, I can’t take it anymore. I’m coming home.” The paper was stained with dried tears. Standing there reading it, I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. Their love was so intense they had gone back to handwritten letters just to express it. No wonder Ethan had always been so quick to hand me his phone to check. No wonder he’d always kept me updated on his schedule without being asked. No wonder he spent entire afternoons locked in this room, then came out smiling. It all made sense now. Including the slap. We were supposed to celebrate our seven-year anniversary today. He hadn’t been upset about the oranges. He was upset because Rena had come back.

I took every letter and went to find them at the club. The moment I walked through the door, I spotted Ethan at the center of it all. He looked drunk. He’d climbed up onto a table and was holding court, talking at full volume. An occupational hazard of being a public speaker, I supposed. Rena sat below him, gazing up at him like he was the only person in the room. I had seen that exact expression on her face back in high school, the first time Ethan gave an impromptu speech on stage. Someone in the crowd decided to egg him on. “What’s your biggest regret?” Ethan’s smile disappeared. He went quiet. His brow furrowed. He turned and looked at Rena, and his eyes went soft with guilt. “Years ago, when someone put a gun to our heads and told me to choose, I couldn’t choose Rena. That’s the one thing I’ll regret for the rest of my life.” “She told me to go find help while she stayed behind. I didn’t know she was going to call the police. Because of that, she almost got seriously hurt.” “If I could go back, I would choose her. Without hesitation.” Rena burst into tears. So did I. Seven years ago, we were kidnapped together. Ethan hadn’t brought enough money for the ransom. The kidnappers said they’d release only one of us. He gripped my hand so hard I thought his fingers would break the skin. After a long silence, his voice finally cracked through. He called my name. In that moment, I forgave Ethan for everything. I made a silent promise to love him with everything I had. So I quietly contacted the police. We worked together from the inside, and the kidnappers were taken down. When I handed Ethan the recovered money afterward, something flickered behind his eyes. Anger. I hadn’t understood it then. Now I did. He blamed me. In the chaos of the police moving in, one of the kidnappers had panicked and hurt Rena. Standing in that club, I finally felt it — how ridiculous I had been. How ridiculous all of it had been. The story seemed to sober Ethan up a little. He looked at Rena with even more tenderness than before. “Rena, we can’t go back. That was my fault. All of it.” “But I want to make it up to you. Starting now.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bank card. My tears dried up instantly. That was my bank card. “Ethan, have you lost your mind?”

I pushed through the crowd and got right in front of them. My eyes were fixed on that card. But just as I was about to grab it, Ethan stepped aside. He closed his hand around the card and turned on me, his face tight with anger. “Ethan, you can’t use that card. That’s everything we have saved.” I was almost shaking. Ethan just looked at me. Calm. Unmoved. Watching me fall apart like it was entertainment. “So what? You owe Rena that much.” “Holly, how long are you going to keep up this act? From the day we got together, I handed you every paycheck from every gig for seven years. And you still nickel-and-dimed everything. The numbers never added up.” When our eyes met, he felt like a stranger. Had he forgotten? He still owed a debt. “Ethan, that money was for paying off the —” He cut me off before I could finish. Without a second’s hesitation, he shoved me aside, turned, and pressed the card into Rena’s hand. Then he stepped in front of her like a shield. He looked at me like I was a threat. “Holly, don’t forget you still owe me for the money you skimmed. I expect that back.” “Rena and I have missed enough time. I’m done wasting more.” He said it like he was reading a verdict, then turned away. The music came back up. Ethan disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor. Like nothing had happened. I was the only one still standing there, frozen. It was all my fault. I had protected him too well. Every time a creditor showed up at the door, I was the one who faced them alone. I cut back on everything, worked myself down to the bone, all to pay off his debt as fast as I could. And in the end, I had nothing left. Not even the one thing I used to be most proud of. My love.

The girl I used to be never could have imagined things ending up like this. Ethan grew up without much. He was always hungry as a kid. From the time we were in elementary school, I used to split my breakfast with him every morning. Ethan loved to talk. He would climb up on the big rock by the river and use it as his stage, while I crouched below and played audience. Then when we were fourteen, Ethan hurt his throat. He stopped showing up at the river. After a few days I started to panic. I searched for him all day before I finally found him on the roof of an abandoned building. He said he didn’t want to be alive anymore. “My voice is gone. What’s the point of any of this.” I grabbed him and dragged him straight to my father, Dr. Carter. I promised, with everything I had, that my father could fix his throat. My father was the most respected doctor in the whole area. Several months of treatment. countless bowls of medicinal soup. Ethan’s voice came back, exactly as it had been. He came back afterward with money to pay for the treatment. I shook my head and refused to take it. That day, Ethan looked at me for a long time. There was something deep in his expression I couldn’t quite name. Finally he turned toward the sun and made a vow. He would take care of me for the rest of his life. He would never stop trusting me. In high school, he kept that promise. But once Rena developed feelings for Ethan, she decided I was her enemy. Rena was a little dumber than I had given her credit for. She didn’t even bother being subtle about it. She slipped a laxative into my drink so I’d embarrass myself in PE class. She organized a “ugliest girl” poll with her crew and put my name at the top. It was anonymous, but she used the notepads she’d been showing off to everyone just days before. When Ethan found out what she’d been doing to me, he gave a small, cold laugh. “I didn’t know people this stupid still existed.” The disdain was all over his face. But the corner of his mouth had curved up. I didn’t bother retaliating, so Rena thought she was getting away with it clean. Until she made the mistake of posting by name on a school forum. “My mom was really sick. I had all the money for her prescription, but Holly refused to fill it because I was one dollar short. Because of her, my mom almost didn’t make it.” It was a lie full of holes. But somehow, a lot of people believed it. I couldn’t walk down the hall without hearing people call me a murderer. Then Ethan stepped in. He walked straight up to one of them and slapped them across the face without saying a word. He said he believed me. I was so moved that day. So moved I didn’t notice the way his jaw had tightened, just slightly, at the corner of his mouth. Maybe everything had been wrong from the very beginning. Rena never let go of her hatred. Ethan never truly trusted me. How ridiculous. I dragged myself up and stumbled toward the bathroom. I needed to splash some water on my face. Clear my head. But when I looked in the mirror, I saw Rena standing behind me. “What do you want?” She gave me a smile. Strange. A little too pleased with herself. “Holly, I just feel so insecure.” “I want to know — if he had to choose between us right now, who would he pick?” I didn’t follow her right away. A second later, Rena twisted the lock on the door and set fire to the trash can.

Within seconds, flames had spread across the entire bathroom floor. Smoke swallowed the room. I moved toward the door. But Rena was already blocking it. She didn’t move. Then Ethan’s voice came from the other side. He pounded on the door, calling Rena’s name over and over. Rena smiled. “See, Holly? I win.” “Honestly, I always thought Ethan loved me just a little bit more. You were just a distraction. A temporary one.” “You must be crushed right now. Just like I was seven years ago.” I stared at her. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was choking on smoke. I might actually die in here. And she was standing there gloating about Ethan’s love for her. I used every ounce of strength I had and shoved her out of the way. But the door chose that exact moment to jam. Any chance of getting out on our own was gone. When the smoke finally hit Rena’s lungs, the confidence drained out of her face. “Ethan, help me! I just wanted to see who you’d choose. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.” “Of course I’d choose you, baby. Don’t be scared. I’m getting you out of there right now.” It felt like forever before Ethan finally forced the door open. He rushed in, scooped Rena up in his arms, and carried her out. He never looked at me once. At that point, I didn’t really care. I just needed to get out. What I hadn’t expected was for Ethan to turn around after stepping out, and kick the door shut behind him. The bathroom door jammed again. I couldn’t hold on much longer. Through the haze, the last image that kept surfacing was Ethan’s foot connecting with that door. So that’s how much he hates me. Enough to leave me here to die. If I could go back, I would go back to when we were fourteen. I would leave him on that rooftop. He never deserved to be saved.

When I came to, I was in a hospital room. A nurse came in to check on me. She glanced toward the door and asked, almost as an afterthought, “No family with you?” I shook my head. Ethan wasn’t coming. And I didn’t want him to. I had spent enough years squeezing every penny until it hurt. I checked myself out immediately and went home to pack. Ethan was still at the hospital with Rena. I was rolling my suitcase out the front door when Rena posted on her Instagram. “What’s meant for you always finds its way back. No one can take what’s yours.” That actually made me laugh out loud. She wasn’t wrong. What belonged to Ethan should go back to him. I pulled up a contact I had saved a long time ago and sent over Ethan’s location. Then I stopped thinking about it. I got on a train headed back to my hometown. As the scenery outside the window grew more and more familiar, something in me went quiet. Then Ethan called. “Holly, you cleaned out the whole apartment. What is wrong with you?” “Just because Rena came back, you pull this little stunt? I’m telling you, I’m not falling for your manipulation again.” The fury in his voice came through the phone like heat. I could even hear things being thrown and broken in the background. Go ahead. Everything he could throw was already his. Everything I’d bought, I’d taken with me. I waited until he ran out of steam before I said anything. “Didn’t I leave a few things behind?” “Someone will be delivering them to you shortly.” Ethan went quiet. He started to say something, but the door flew open before he could. No knocking. No warning. “Hey. You know why I’m here. Time to pay up.”

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On my birthday, my boyfriend Ethan had arranged a grand fireworks display. When everyone thought he was about to drop to one knee and propose, he simply handed me a bouquet of roses. Smiling, he said, “Zoe, I’m getting married in three days.” “This is the last birthday I’ll spend with you as your boyfriend.” I buried my face in the roses, a small smile tugging at my lips. “So sudden? But I haven’t prepared anything.” The whole room burst into laughter. Ethan laughed too and clarified: “The bride isn’t you. It’s Maya.” “She’s waited five years for me. I want to give her an answer.” In that instant, my heart seemed to stop. I stared at him with hollow eyes and asked numbly, “Why?” Maya was my best friend. Ethan was the boy I’d grown up with, my childhood sweetheart. Until that moment, I never imagined either of them could betray me. Ethan was quiet for a moment, then lowered his voice. “Because I don’t want people laughing at me for marrying someone who’s blind.” “Maya is beautiful, and she can actually help my career.” “But you — what do you have?” My breath caught. My fingers locked around my shattered phone screen. What he didn’t know was this: I was actually the long-lost daughter of the Sullivan family — the wealthiest family in the city. My biological parents were already on their way to bring me home.

The entire room fell silent. Then the noise came back louder than before, and everyone was laughing. “Oh my God, I can’t — she actually thought Ethan would marry her. She’s blind!” “The nerve. Even if she could see, she’d never be good enough for the Johnson family.” “Maybe she should look in a mirror — oh wait, sorry, I forgot she can’t.” Through the laughter, I clearly heard Ethan let out a quiet chuckle. As if he found my delusion amusing. My hands were shaking badly. I could feel all the blood in my body rushing to my head. My fingers scrambled for my white cane so I could get out of there. Maya grabbed my hand and stepped in front of me. “Alright, alright — Zoe didn’t mean anything by it. Everyone stop laughing at her.” “Today is Zoe’s birthday. Let’s all have some cake together.” The moment she finished speaking, a cake the height of a person was wheeled out. Maya gripped my wrist and pulled me toward it. The thick, sweet smell of buttercream hit me instantly. I stepped back, uncomfortable, but Maya pressed firmly against my shoulders from behind, blocking me. “Zoe, Ethan and I had this cake custom-made just for you. Do you like it?” With someone pushing against my back, I gave a stiff smile. “I used to. Not anymore.” I used to like it because Ethan liked it. Now I didn’t, because I didn’t love him anymore. But in everyone else’s ears, it sounded like petty theatrics. One of the girls standing beside Maya shoved me hard from behind, all while keeping a cheerful grin on her face. “See? She loves it — she can’t wait to dig in.” Sweet, thick frosting covered my face and clothes. I cried out in shock. My hands flew out wildly, grasping for anything to hold onto. No one reached back. Everyone just crowded closer. More and more people started throwing cake at me — smearing it on my face, my clothes, even forcing it into my mouth. “Come on, everyone help the birthday girl celebrate! She’s practically crying, she’s so touched!” “Makes sense. She lives in that basement — probably hasn’t had anyone talk to her in weeks.” “Now she’s got all of us here for her birthday. No wonder she’s emotional.” Another wave of laughter. I was shaking with rage. I wanted so badly to ask Ethan and Maya why they were doing this to me. But the moment I opened my mouth, someone shoved in a handful of frosting. Gagging, I fought through the crowd and stumbled toward the exit. Laughter trailed after me as I went, everyone jeering at how pathetic I looked. I finally found the door and shut all of it out behind me. I sank down against the wall and let myself cry quietly. Why? Why are they doing this to me? Why were the people I trusted most — the ones closest to me — the ones who turned on me? Who humiliated me in front of everyone? My chest ached like something inside it had collapsed. But worse than the pain was the shame — the kind that comes from being mocked when you’re already broken. I was still falling apart when I heard two servers gossiping nearby. “Did you see that girl from room 403? God, I feel awful for her.” “The blind one? I heard she’s been throwing herself at Mr. Johnson for months. She guilted him into putting on a whole fireworks show, and his actual girlfriend had to just stand there and watch. I mean, what did she expect? Someone had to put her in her place.” “Apparently they used to be friends too. She looks so sweet and harmless. You really never know people.” “Probably figures that since she’s blind, she can’t do better — so she latches on to whoever’s nearby.” The words cut right through the wall and straight into me. My whole body went cold. My heart beat in my hollow chest — slow, dull, and aching. So that’s how it is. Maya had sabotaged me to clear the way to becoming Ethan’s wife. But what about Ethan? What was his reason? I had given him everything. I had even lost my sight trying to protect him. So what was it — why did he hate me this much?

By the time I got back to the basement apartment, it was late at night. The air was thick with the smell of mildew and something worse. It turned my stomach. I had lived like this for seven years. I told myself I could keep enduring it. But now, all I wanted was to escape. My fingers traced over the calendar again and again. Two more days. Mom and Dad were coming to take me home. The weight in my chest lifted a little. I peeled off my ruined clothes, managed to change into something clean, and went to sleep. Early the next morning, the sound of a key turning in the lock jolted me awake. I looked instinctively toward the door. The sharp click of heels on the floor told me who it was before she said a word. Maya. “What are you doing here?” “Dropping off an invitation. Tomorrow’s my engagement party with Ethan, after all.” She pressed the envelope into my hands with a smug little smile. “Zoe, you and Ethan used to show off your relationship in front of me every single day — and look how it ended. I still took him from you.” “You know he’s already bought me over a dozen properties? Meanwhile he wouldn’t even let you move out of this tiny basement.” “And those cakes he used to buy you? Discount stuff from the clearance rack. The gift he gave me was a ruby worth millions.” “That job you worked so hard to get? He had someone destroy it on purpose. Just to keep you trapped here.” “Surprised? How does it feel, being betrayed by the person you loved? Does it hurt?” The blood drained from my body. I couldn’t even cry. My eyes stayed fixed on the direction of her voice. “Why?” “What did I ever do to either of you?” I’d been asking myself that all night and still couldn’t figure it out. Maya just laughed. There was nothing but contempt in her eyes. “Zoe, do you remember? Back in college, I was dating an older guy. Everyone was telling me to break up with him — everyone except you.” “I ran away with him. Do you have any idea what he put me through?” “He tried to use me to get to his boss. If Ethan hadn’t pulled me out of that situation, I would have been destroyed.” “Zoe, you never actually cared about me. You just couldn’t stand to see me happy.” My fingers clenched tight. I stared at her. She wasn’t wrong that I hadn’t said anything. But it wasn’t because I wanted her to suffer. It was because she had blocked and cut off every friend who tried to talk her out of it. If I pushed too hard and she shut me out too, who would she call when things went wrong? From campus to the city where she’d gone — nearly three hundred miles. A bus ticket ran about forty dollars each way. I kept three hundred dollars set aside. Enough for multiple trips. All so that if she ever called me in crisis, I could go. Bitterness spread through me slowly. After a long silence, I finally spoke. My voice came out rough. “So that’s your reason for betraying me.” “And Ethan? What’s his?”

A quiet laugh came from the corner of the room. I turned toward the sound. Ethan walked toward me. His cold fingers caught my chin and tilted it up. “Zoe, want me to remind you what you told the police — seven years ago?” I froze. My mind went back. Back then, his parents had wanted his kidney to save the family’s adopted heir — the fake son they’d been grooming as their own. I had fought to protect him. I went to the police and forced the situation into the open. In the process, I was struck from behind. I spent seven days in the ICU. I survived. But I never saw again. “You told the police my family was trying to hurt me and force me to donate my kidney.” “But the truth, Zoe — my parents never wanted that. If they hadn’t brought me home later and told me what really happened—” “I might have believed your lie for the rest of my life.” His voice rose with every word. The grip on my jaw tightened. “It’s your fault.” “If it weren’t for you, I never would have had to leave home. I wouldn’t have spent those extra years struggling.” It felt like something had torn open in the center of my chest. A cold draft poured through. I could barely breathe. Maya pulled Ethan back and leaned close to my ear, her voice almost gentle. “Zoe, I’ll be honest with you. By the third day after you lost your sight, Ethan and I were already together.” “We got an apartment. Every time he said he was working late, or on a business trip, or picking up extra shifts — he was with me.” “We’ve already met each other’s families. And I’m carrying his child.” “The only one rotting away here has always been you.” Each word landed like a blade, driving in one at a time. Despair spread from my chest out to my fingertips. I let out a raw scream. I shoved Maya away like something had snapped inside me. I grabbed whatever was closest and threw it at the two of them. In the dark, something hit Maya and she cried out. “Ethan — it hurts. My stomach—” Then a hand came out of nowhere and cracked hard across my face. Ethan shoved me to the ground. The back of my head hit the floor with a sickening thud. Warm blood began to seep from the back of my skull. The whole world seemed to press pause. Silence. I don’t know how long I was out. When I came to, I was in a hospital. An IV was in my hand. The doctor handed me a freshly printed CT scan, visibly shaken. “You’re lucky they brought you in when they did. Another fifteen minutes and you wouldn’t have made it.” “But there may be a silver lining here. The blood clot that’s been pressing on your optic nerve — it’s gone. Your sight should come back soon.” It was the first good news I’d had in longer than I could remember. My hands trembled. I was about to thank the doctor when Ethan came storming through the door, fury on his face. “Zoe, did you post that online?” He slammed his phone against my face. My cheek stung immediately. I pressed my hand to my face and kept my voice flat. “Ethan, I’m blind — or did you forget? How exactly would I be posting anything?” He paused for a split second, but held his ground. “The angle in those photos — it could only be you.” “You’ve always been clever, Zoe. Don’t tell me you couldn’t find someone to help you.” I nearly laughed. I picked up his phone and looked. My vision was still mostly white fog, but I could just barely make out a few blurred words. Affair. Mistress. Best friend. I didn’t need to read the rest. I tossed the phone back to him. My voice went cold. “It wasn’t me. If you’ve got nothing to hide, why does it matter?” Ethan’s expression flickered, but he softened his tone. “In that case, come to the engagement party tomorrow. Set the record straight on our behalf, in front of everyone.” “Zoe, after everything you’ve put us through, this is your one chance to make things right.” “If you don’t show up, I’m cutting off your monthly allowance. For good.” “Without me, who’s going to take care of you?”

I closed my eyes. I lifted one hand and pointed at the door. “Get out.” The next morning, a black sedan pulled up at the hospital entrance. Several bodyguards dragged me out of bed and pinned me between them. “Ms. Zoe, Mr. Johnson has asked us to bring you to the engagement party. If you’ll come with us.” It was phrased as a request, but their grip left no room for escape. When I was pushed through the entrance of the venue, the Johnson family was in the middle of a press interview. The moment Ethan saw me step out of the car, he rushed over and took my arm, dropping his voice. “Zoe, after everything we’ve been through — you’ll help me, right?” “I know you’re upset. Once the press conference is over, I’ll make it up to you privately.” Before I could answer, he steered me in front of the reporters. A wall of camera flashes went off all at once. The room went quiet. Everyone was waiting for me to speak. I opened my mouth and said four words. “It’s all a lie.” The room erupted. The reporters swarmed like they’d smelled blood. “Ms. Zoe, what exactly is a lie?” “Is it true that Ms. Maya interfered in your relationship with Mr. Johnson?” “What happened to your eyes?” Questions came at me from every direction. Through the crowd, I caught Ethan’s face going pale with fury as he pushed toward me. Bodyguards carved a path through the press. In full view of every camera, Ethan’s hand cracked across my face. “Enough. How long are you going to keep this up?” The room went dead silent. Ethan’s mother stepped forward with a carefully composed expression, already spinning the story. “Zoe, Ethan has been quietly supporting you for years. Is this how you repay him?” “Everyone — after Ethan came back to the family, I insisted he end things with Zoe. For years, she has been the one pursuing my son. The Johnson family has never approved of this match.” Ethan’s father stepped up beside her, holding up footage from a security camera. “When Zoe was injured in our home years ago, I was at a board meeting. My entire staff can verify that. The claim that I assaulted her and caused her blindness is completely unfounded.” Maya turned to me with tears running down her face. “Zoe, you’re my best friend. Ethan and I didn’t get together until two years after you two broke up. How can you say these things about me?” They were burying me under an avalanche of lies. Every word was another nail pinning me in place. And then, in the middle of it all — my vision came back. Not blurry. Not foggy. Clear. I could see every face in the room. Contempt. Dismissal. Indifference. Scorn. I looked straight at Ethan through the noise of it all. “You think everything they just said is true. Don’t you.” He didn’t answer. He just looked at me. His voice was tired. “Zoe, just let it go.” Just let it go. Four words. And in them, everything. Every last scrap of hope I had left — gone. I looked out at all those cold, hostile faces staring back at me. And I laughed. “Ha — hahaha!” His mother’s brow furrowed. “What is so funny?” I stopped laughing. My gaze moved slowly and steadily over everyone in the room. “I’m laughing at all of you. How naive.” I said, “You really think burying me in lies is enough to keep your hands clean?” “You think destroying the evidence means you can rewrite the truth?” “Fine. You want to destroy me? Then let everyone see exactly who you are.” I raised the shattered phone in my hand. I turned the volume all the way up. The recording played out clearly enough for every person in that room to hear.

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When my brother Ethan — the one born with a congenital heart defect — was beaten half to death by his enemies and left on my doorstep with a broken leg, something shifted inside me. I suddenly found it in my heart to forgive my husband, Nathan. Forgive him for bringing his sickly childhood sweetheart, Chloe, into our home. After all, a devoted wife should always try to understand her husband’s feelings. With tears in my eyes, I helped Ethan into the guest room, cleaned his wounds myself, and applied the medicine with the kind of gentleness you’d use on something irreplaceable. I took care of his every need with my own hands, stayed up through the night for him, and even played the piano piece Nathan loved most. I stopped caring about Nathan and Chloe’s flirting. I stopped losing my mind over their closeness. But Nathan was the one who lost his mind. He backed me into a corner, eyes bloodshot, voice trembling. “Nina, what the hell do you think you’re doing? He’s a broke, broken-down nobody!” I reached up and touched his face, smiling with all the innocence I could muster. “Honey, I’m just doing what you taught me.” “Learning how to be a good person. Someone who values the people they love.” “Or are you saying your first love gets to live under our roof, but the person who matters most to me has to sleep on the street?”

Nathan had no answer for that. That air of total control he always carried — it shattered in an instant. The tension in that corner was suffocating. The air itself seemed to stop moving. He grabbed my wrist and squeezed, hard enough to grind bone. The pain was sharp and immediate. But I didn’t struggle. I couldn’t even feel it, really. Inside, there was nothing but a cold, flat calm. He forced the words out through clenched teeth, low and barely controlled. “Say that again. The person who matters most to you?” I lifted my free hand and gently smoothed the angry crease between his brows with my fingertips. My touch was light. My tone stayed soft, stayed innocent. “Honey, you’re hurting me.” I looked into his bloodshot eyes and handed his own logic right back to him. “You always said — when a good friend gets hurt, you bring them close and take care of them. Just like you’ve been taking care of Chloe.” “Ethan has nowhere to go right now. I can’t just ignore that.” My words fed the fire in his eyes. But he couldn’t find a single thing to say back. Because every word I’d just said was something he’d once told me — his own personal gospel, used to shut me up. Then, from upstairs, came the soft sound of Chloe coughing. It wasn’t loud. But it landed like the flip of a switch. “Nathan…” Her voice pulled his attention off me like a magnet. He glared at me with pure resentment, but the grip on my wrist loosened without him even realizing it. The rage and possessiveness in his eyes — when they met my perfectly steady gaze — flickered for the first time with something he didn’t know how to handle. I understood it completely then. Nathan’s love had always been built on two things: my total submission, and the certainty that I belonged only to him. My resistance — even this imitation of his own behavior — was a betrayal he couldn’t stomach. Chloe coughed again. More urgent this time. Nathan finally let go of my wrist and spat out his parting words. “Nina, don’t push me. Get him out of this house.” Then he turned and took the stairs two at a time, back to his first love. I watched him go. Not one ounce of hurt. Just the cold, detached satisfaction of a plan’s first step falling into place. His limits? I rubbed my reddened wrist and let out a quiet, humorless laugh. What limits? That only you get to play the devoted hero, while I’m supposed to play the heartless villain? That’s not how this works. I didn’t bother with his threat. I didn’t spare a glance at the staircase. I turned and walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out fresh ingredients. Then, slowly and deliberately, I began making a pot of beef and vegetable soup for Ethan in the guest room. The soup bubbled and steamed, filling the kitchen with warmth. Half an hour later, Nathan came back downstairs in a fury after calming Chloe down. He probably expected me to be crying. Or raging. Or at least still standing there waiting to finish the fight. Instead, he found me walking gracefully toward the guest room with a bowl of hot soup. He opened his mouth to start in on me, but I turned around at exactly the right moment — like I had eyes in the back of my head. I gave him a flawless, picture-perfect “devoted wife” smile. “Honey, would you like a bowl too? I don’t want to disturb Chloe’s rest, so I’ll drop this off for Ethan and head to bed.”

Every word I said was airtight. He’d wound up and swung hard, and hit nothing but air. Nathan stood frozen, his face a tight mask of fury, watching helplessly as I carried that bowl of soup straight into Ethan’s room. I didn’t come back out right away. I set the bowl on the nightstand, carefully stirred it with a spoon, and waited for it to cool to just the right temperature. Then I fed it to Ethan, spoonful by spoonful — he couldn’t move much with his leg injury. Only after all of that did I step back out. Nathan was still standing exactly where I’d left him. Like a statue carved from barely contained rage. I didn’t go to bed. Instead, I walked straight to the center of the living room, toward the black grand piano. I lifted the lid, sat down, and let my fingers settle onto the cold keys. The next moment, music filled the room. It was Nathan’s favorite piece. The song that had marked the beginning of us. The melody drifted through every corner of the house — through Chloe’s room upstairs, through the guest room where Ethan lay. As I played, the memory came back to me with perfect clarity. I’d wanted to give Nathan a birthday surprise. I, who couldn’t carry a tune to save my life, had secretly taken piano lessons for months. At his birthday party, I played this piece for him alone. Back then, his eyes had been so full of love they nearly overflowed. He’d pulled me into his arms and said: “Nina, this is our song. Only ours.” Only ours. What a laughable promise. Now I sat playing the same notes, and what filled my mind had nothing to do with pleasing him. I was thinking about how to make it hurt. A dull thud came from the study upstairs. Nathan had thrown something. At first, he probably thought I was giving in — using the song to reach back toward what we’d had. But the moment he realized I was playing it to soothe the man in the guest room, jealousy and the feeling of betrayal would consume him entirely. Sure enough. Heavy footsteps on the stairs, each one louder than the last, loaded with fury. He came charging down. I was right at the peak of the piece, the music swelling — Bang. A crash. He slammed the piano lid down with both hands. A shock of pain shot through my fingertips. The music stopped dead. I looked down. Several of my fingers had been caught under the edge of the lid. They were already bright red, swelling fast. Once, he had been moved by this song. He’d called it precious. Now he’d brought the lid down with his own hands and killed it. What had been a symbol of our love had just become the instrument of my pain. I stared at my reddening fingers. Not a single tear. Just a hollow, glacial stillness. His so-called “cherished memories” had always been a form of possession. He didn’t love the memory. He loved the control over me that the memory gave him. He was breathing hard, chest heaving, voice rough with the kind of rage that burns past words. “Who said you could play that for him? Nina, have you forgotten what that song means to us?” I raised my head slowly and looked at his face — twisted with jealousy — and said quietly: “But Chloe loves hearing your stories about growing up together, doesn’t she?” “Sharing something beautiful with someone who needs comfort — isn’t that what you taught me?” Once again, I used his own logic to wall him in completely. He stared at me, something wild and anguished churning in his eyes. He hadn’t expected this kind of calm. I slowly drew back my injured hand. I stopped looking at the piano. I stopped looking at him. As if it had all been nothing more than a minor inconvenience. I stood up and said evenly, “If you don’t like it, I won’t play.” My composure threw his hysteria into sharp relief. He looked like the unreasonable one. Like a child throwing a tantrum. He went still, rattled by his own loss of control. His gaze dropped to my swollen fingers, and for just a moment, something like remorse crossed his face. And then. The guest room door opened. Ethan stood in the doorway on his crutches, his lean face drawn with worry, his eyes fixed on my hand. “Nina, your hand…” He looked up at Nathan. The gentleness in his expression went sharp.

Ethan made his way toward me, one unsteady step at a time. He walked right through the wall of hostility Nathan was radiating, as if it weren’t there at all. He came and stood beside me, then carefully cradled my injured hand in both of his, examining it closely. The knuckles had already swollen up. Dark bruising was rising under the skin — deep purple-red — and in one spot the surface had broken, a thin line of blood showing through. Ethan’s brow furrowed deeply. He looked up at Nathan. His voice was cold. “Is this how you love your wife, Mr. Harrison?” One question from an outsider landed harder than a thousand tears or accusations from me ever could. Nathan’s expression darkened instantly. Fury, the shame of being exposed, the humiliation of being called out by Ethan — it all collided on his face at once, twisting it ugly. He wanted to lash out. But his eyes swept over my bleeding fingers, and the words died in his throat. The living room went still. Three people. Three very different places. Then the housekeeper came rushing down from upstairs, her voice pitched high and tight with panic. “Sir — it’s bad! Miss Chloe says her chest hurts. She can barely breathe!” Those words were the last straw. Nathan’s whole body locked up. Every flicker of guilt or remorse — gone, in an instant. He looked at my hand. The blood on my fingers. Then he looked up toward the stairs. One second of hesitation. Just one. Then he dropped words on me like stones. “Stop being dramatic. A little scratch won’t kill you.” That sentence hit like a blade that had been kept in ice. No. My heart was already dead. It just landed in flesh that had long since stopped bleeding. He didn’t look at me again. He took the stairs at a run, straight to Chloe and her chest pain. I stood there, staring at my own hand. Then I lifted my eyes and watched the shadow of him disappear around the bend of the staircase. Whatever had still been flickering in my eyes went dark. I was done wondering. Done waiting for something different. He wasn’t confused. He wasn’t misunderstanding anything. He simply didn’t care. In his world, nothing I suffered could ever matter as much as the softest sound of pain from Chloe. Gently, one finger at a time, I drew my hand back from the warmth of Ethan’s. When I spoke, my voice was so calm it was almost frightening. “Come on, Ethan. Let’s go clean up that hand.” I paused. “No point standing here being invisible.” It was the first time I had ever used that word — invisible — to describe what I was in this house. Back in the guest room, Ethan quietly opened the first aid kit and cleaned my wounds with a cotton swab dipped in antiseptic, slowly and carefully. His hands were steady and gentle. I looked out the window at the black night beyond, and said softly: “Ethan. I’m done with this house.” The words had barely settled when my phone buzzed. The name on the screen read: Nathan’s Assistant. I answered and put it on speaker. The assistant’s voice came through tense and urgent, carrying just a trace of a tone that expected compliance. “Mrs. Harrison, Mr. Harrison asked me to reach you. Miss Chloe needs to be transferred to another hospital — it’s urgent. The VIP admission channel requires an authorized family signature, and that has to come from you. Mr. Harrison is very upset right now, so you’ll need to come in immediately…”

He wasn’t done talking. I hung up anyway. Not me — but the person I used to be, Mrs. Harrison, was expected to go and do her duty. Nathan believed that no matter how badly he hurt me, I would do what I’d always done: clean up his mess without a word. I looked at my phone calmly. After a moment, I dialed the number back. The assistant picked up immediately, voice even more strained. “Mrs. Harrison, you—” “You’ve got the wrong person.” I cut him off. My voice was flat. Unbothered. “Mr. Harrison’s girlfriend is sick. He should sign the forms himself, or contact her family.” “I’m not anyone to her. I can’t authorize anything.” It was the first time I had ever openly refused to perform the role of Mrs. Harrison — all the privileges it came with, and all the chains. Silence on the other end. He clearly hadn’t seen that coming. A few minutes later, my phone started going off again. Nathan’s personal number. I picked up. His voice came through like a wall collapsing — so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “Nina! What is your problem? If anything happens to Chloe, I swear to God—” I waited until he finished. “Are you threatening me, Nathan?” I asked quietly. “I’m ordering you to get down here. This is your obligation as my wife. Don’t make me come get you myself.” Still the same tone. Still the man who believed he could control every corner of my life. I didn’t let him finish. I hung up. Then I opened his contact and pressed the button I had never once considered pressing before. Block. Silence. Real silence. Like the world exhaling. I went to the back of my vanity drawer and took out the wedding ring I had kept safe for three years. The diamond was enormous. It caught the light and threw back something cold and expensive. Once, it had been the thing I treasured most. Everything I believed in, everything I loved, in a single object. I carried it out to the living room. The piano sat there with its lid shut, like a quiet grave — the last warmth between us, buried. I set the ring on top of the lid. It made a small sound. A soft clink, barely there. I took a photo and sent it to the husband I’d just blocked. One final message. The message was simple. One picture, two sentences. “Nathan — your first love needs you. Go do right by her.” “From this moment on, I am not your wife. Which means I no longer need to learn from your example.” “This ring, and everything that came with being Mrs. Harrison — I’m giving it all back.” I sent it. Then I deleted the entire conversation. When it was done, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years. Lightness. Like the weight I’d been carrying for so long had finally cracked apart at my feet. I didn’t need to mirror him anymore to find my balance. What I wanted was something clean. A real beginning. I went back to my room. I didn’t take a single thing that belonged to Mrs. Harrison. Not the designer bags. Not the couture gowns. Not one piece of the beautiful stage dressing he’d used to make himself look good. I took only what was mine. My ID, my phone, and the one thing my mother had left me. Then I took Ethan’s arm, and we walked out together. The front door closed behind us with a soft, solid click. Like a wall going up between me and everything that had come before. I didn’t look back. At the same moment, across town, Nathan finally had a spare second to check his phone. The photo of the ring — cold, stark, abandoned on that piano — and the words beneath it drained the blood from his face. For the first time, he felt it. Real panic. He shoved past the doctors and nurses crowding around him and sprinted out of the hospital, driving home like something was chasing him.

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The boss’s newly hired secretary secretly added my name to the first round of layoffs. She leaned close to my ear and taunted me: “Get out while you can, old hag.” Not only did I not get angry — I signed the resignation form with a smile and walked out without looking back. By the end of the month, the company’s tax audit hit. Tens of millions of dollars in accounts were a complete mess, and not a single cent could be reconciled. The boss was losing his mind in the conference room: “Who laid off my wife? She’s the only one with the master access codes!” HR wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and glanced nervously at the young secretary standing nearby: “Sir, it was… it was your mistress who did it.” Grace walked in carrying a list, her heels clicking against the floor in sharp, piercing taps. She stopped beside my desk. The cloud of perfume around her was suffocating. The office went instantly quiet. Everyone’s eyes drifted over — pretending not to look, but looking all the same. “First round of organizational restructuring. I’ll read the names.” Her voice was deliberately sweet, but her gaze was like a needle, driving straight into me. “Jennifer.” She read out my name, drawing out the last syllable, savoring every bit of it. The air around me seemed to freeze. I was one of the company’s founding employees. The backbone of the finance department. Ten years in, and no one had ever imagined my name would appear on a list like this. Grace loved the effect. She bent down, her red lips nearly brushing my ear, and said in a voice only the two of us could hear: “Get out while you can, old hag.” I caught the scent on her — the same cedar and sandalwood cologne my husband Matthew wore. I didn’t get angry. I didn’t even blink. I simply closed the spreadsheet I’d been working on. Without saving. “Where’s the resignation form?” I asked. My calm clearly caught her off guard. She hesitated for a second, then pulled a sheet of paper from her folder and slapped it down on my desk. “Sign it. You’ll get your severance. The company’s being more than generous.” “Thank you.” I picked up the pen and signed my name in clean, decisive strokes. HR manager Chris came jogging over, his face arranged into an awkward smile. “Jennifer, does… does Mr. Matthews know about this?” “Mr. Matthews is a very busy man. There’s no need to bother him with something this small.” Grace cut in before I could say another word, draping her arm over Chris’s shoulder with an easy familiarity. “Chris, I think we’re going to work together just beautifully.” Chris looked like he was about to break into a cold sweat. I stood up and began gathering the few personal items on my desk. A water bottle. A small plant I’d kept alive for five years. And a photo from the bottom drawer. In the photo, Matthew and I stood in front of a cramped little office — the company’s very first address. We were grinning like idiots. Young, nervous, and full of hope. I stared at it for a few seconds. Then I dropped it in the trash with the rest of the paper waste. Grace watched my every move. She was waiting for the breakdown — the anger, the tears, the desperation. I gave her none of it. I picked up my small cardboard box and walked up to her. “Want to do a handover?” I asked. “No need.” She let out a soft, contemptuous laugh. “Nobody wants your old files. I’m building a brand-new system for this company — something modern, something that actually works.” “Good luck with that.” I nodded, turned around, and walked toward the door. Dozens of eyes followed me across the office. Some held sympathy. Some held regret. Some barely hid their satisfaction. Grace stood with her arms crossed, a queen surveying her newly won kingdom. I didn’t look back. The moment I pushed through the revolving door and stepped outside, the afternoon sun hit me hard. I squinted, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number. It picked up almost immediately. “Hey, Jennifer.” “Simon — is everything ready?” “All set. We can move whenever you are.” I watched the traffic flowing steadily down the street, drew in a long, slow breath, and let it out. “Then let’s begin.”

I went back to the house I shared with Matthew — a house that existed in name only. It took me an hour to pack everything that belonged to me into a few suitcases. There wasn’t much. Over the years, I had poured almost everything I had into that company. This place had always felt more like a hotel room I occasionally slept in than a home. My last stop was the study. I sat down at the private server I kept there and powered it on. The screen lit up to a login interface unlike anything a standard program would generate — no username field, no password box. Just a single cursor, blinking steadily. This was the financial system I had built for the company. I called it the Vault. Ten years ago, Matthew and I pooled everything we had and founded the company together. He handled the tech and marketing side. I handled finance and operations. In those early days, to keep the money safe and maintain absolute control, I personally wrote the underlying code for this system from scratch. It was incompatible with every standard external software on the market. Every port had been physically encrypted. To log in, you needed three keys. The first was the hardware ID of this specific server. The second was the USB security token I wore around my neck — a small, unremarkable thing that generated a rotating dynamic key. The third, and most critical, was a 128-character password that only I knew. It was the due date of the child Matthew and I had been expecting — precise down to the second. That child never made it into the world. From that day on, Matthew changed. He threw himself into work with a kind of desperation, numbing himself — and numbing me along with him. The company grew. We became more successful than we’d ever dreamed. And the distance between us quietly grew into something neither of us talked about. About a year ago, I started noticing unfamiliar perfume on his clothes. Suggestive messages flashing across his phone screen. Anonymous photos arriving in my inbox — him with different women, his arm around each one. I didn’t cry. I didn’t confront him. I started making plans. Under the banner of tax optimization, I quietly set up several subsidiaries overseas. Over time, I funneled the company’s core annual profits into those accounts — in batches, through entirely legal channels. I was the sole controlling party of every one of those companies. Then I established a personal trust fund in my own name. Into it, I methodically transferred all the real estate, stock holdings, and financial assets we had acquired during the marriage. The named beneficiaries were myself, and my parents back home. Matthew had always been hopeless with finance. He watched the top-line numbers — total revenue, headline profit — and left the rest to me. Far from suspecting anything, he had praised my “capital management skills” at multiple board meetings. He had no idea that the commercial empire he was so proud of had been quietly hollowed out from the inside. He owned a beautiful shell. Nothing more. Grace’s arrival was simply the final push. The last domino. And also the most perfect signal I could have asked for to spring the trap shut. A mistress he adored had fired his wife with her own hands — and in doing so, sent him over the edge of a cliff he couldn’t come back from. Could there be a more fitting ending than that? I performed one final backup of the core data on the server, encrypted it, and pushed it to the cloud. Then I hit the format button. The progress bar moved fast. As fast as the ten years of my life that were now behind me. When it was done, I grabbed my suitcases, took one last look around the cold, empty house. My phone buzzed. A bank notification — a $2,000 ATM withdrawal. I smiled. Matthew’s wallet contained a supplementary card linked to my account. He used it for business entertainment. It seemed Grace had already started exercising what she imagined were her privileges as the new woman of the house. Good. Every transaction was documented proof of his infidelity and the illegal transfer of marital assets to a third party. I pulled my suitcase behind me and closed the door. I wasn’t coming back.

A week later, Grace sat in what used to be my office, drunk on a sense of power she had never tasted before. She had ordered the space redecorated in her favorite blush pinks and filled it with expensive scented candles. Matthew indulged her in everything. She had only to want something, and it appeared. She was certain the hard part was over. Jennifer was gone — nothing more than a stepping stone she’d already crossed. But the problems came quickly. End of month. Payday. The new CFO — a high-priced hire, someone with an impressive resume — had spent three straight days staring at the Vault’s login screen. He never got past it. “Ms. Grace,” he said, his expression tight with discomfort, “this system… we can’t get into it at all. It doesn’t recognize any external devices. Standard operations are completely locked out.” “Useless.” Grace didn’t bother softening it. “The company is paying you to solve problems, not stand there and list them.” The CFO’s face cycled through several shades of red and white, but he said nothing. Everyone in the building knew Grace was Matthew’s favorite. “What exactly did Jennifer do when she ran this thing?” “I have no idea!” Grace waved him off. “Bottom line — before end of business today, I want every employee’s paycheck deposited. If that doesn’t happen, you’re fired.” Payroll is sacred. A single day’s delay could set off a firestorm among the staff. Grace smoothed her skirt, walked into Matthew’s office, and shifted into her softest voice. “Matthew, there’s a little snag with payroll.” “What kind of snag?” Matthew was reading a market report. He didn’t look up. “The new CFO can’t get into the old system. Maybe we could ask Jennifer to come back for a day — just to export the data and walk the new team through it?” She kept her tone light, careful. What she actually wanted was to see Jennifer walk back in and perform like a trained helper in front of the entire staff. A final humiliation to crush what was left of her pride. Matthew’s brow creased. He didn’t like hearing Jennifer’s name. She had left so calmly it had been infuriating — like throwing a punch and hitting cotton. It left him unsatisfied in a way he couldn’t quite shake. “Why would we call back someone we let go?” he said flatly. “That makes us look desperate. Tell the CFO to figure it out himself. If he can’t handle something this basic, he can go too.” “But if paychecks don’t go out today, people are going to be upset.” “Then use the reserve fund and wire everyone manually. How hard can it be?” He turned a page. “And tell IT to crack that system or replace it altogether.” Grace left without getting what she came for. Manual transfers. Hundreds of employees. The finance team worked through the night — cross-checking account numbers, calculating withholding, processing each one individually. By the time it was done, the entire department was exhausted and furious. But the paychecks went out. Grace breathed a small sigh of relief. Just a minor inconvenience, she told herself. She had no idea this was only the beginning. The next morning, a much bigger problem detonated. Oceanic Technologies — the company’s largest supplier — sent a payment demand directly to Matthew’s personal inbox. “Matthew, the three-million-dollar invoice from last quarter was due yesterday per our contract. What’s going on?” Matthew summoned the CFO immediately. “Why hasn’t Oceanic been paid?” The CFO was visibly sweating. “Sir, all payments go through the system’s approval workflow. And we still can’t access the system.” “Every contract, every payment record, every approval chain — it’s all locked inside.” “What about backups? Paper files?” “Jennifer implemented a fully paperless process. Everything is in the system.” The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Matthew’s expression went dark. He picked up his phone and called Jennifer for the first time since she’d left. “The number you have dialed is not available.” That automated message ignited something hot and ugly in his chest. Playing hard to get, was she? He didn’t know that at that moment, I was sitting on the deck of a cruise ship sailing toward Phuket, salt wind in my hair and a glass of champagne in my hand. My old phone was somewhere at the bottom of the Strait of Malacca. The new one — new number, clean slate — was sitting quietly in my bag. And that still wasn’t the worst of it. The worst came on the morning of the third day, when two men in uniform walked through the company’s front entrance, their expressions carefully neutral. “Good morning. We’re investigators from the IRS Criminal Investigation division.” “We’ve received a formal, named complaint alleging serious tax fraud by this company.” “This is our official examination notice. We’ll need the legal representative — Mr. Matthews — to cooperate with our investigation.” “Please produce all financial records and tax filings for the past three years. Immediately.”

I heard later that when the investigators walked in, Matthew’s first reaction was contempt. He had them taken to a small conference room, then sat and finished a pour-over coffee at his own pace. He assumed it was a nuisance move — a competitor stirring up trouble, or some minor compliance slip by one of his underlings. He walked into the room wearing his best boardroom smile. “Gentlemen, thanks for making the trip. Our company has always been a model taxpayer. I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding.” The investigators didn’t return the smile. They opened their files and laid them on the table. “Mr. Matthews. This complaint was filed under a named identity. The documentation is detailed and extensive. Please don’t waste our time. We need the financial data now.” Matthew’s smile went rigid on his face. He called in the new CFO. “Give them whatever they need.” The CFO broke into a full sweat on the spot. “Sir… all the original data is inside the encrypted system. We can’t extract anything.” Silence fell like a hammer. Matthew’s face changed for the first time. He sent the CFO out with a wave and turned back to the investigators with a reconstructed smile. “We’re experiencing a minor system issue. Our technical team is working on it as we speak. Could you give us forty-eight hours?” The investigators looked at him without expression. “Mr. Matthews, we follow procedure. If we don’t have access to complete records by nine o’clock tomorrow morning, we’ll move to compulsory measures.” “Such as freezing your company’s operating accounts.” They stood, picked up their files, and left without another word. Matthew sat alone in the conference room, and for the first time, he felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. He finally understood. This had stopped being manageable. He shot out of the room, grabbed his phone, and called my number again. Still off. He started working through his contacts like a man on fire. He called my best friend, Susan. “Where is Jennifer? Put her on the phone.” Susan’s voice was ice. “Matthew, you have some nerve calling her. I don’t know where she is.” The line went dead. He called my parents’ house. My mother picked up. “It’s Matthew. Has Jennifer been in touch with you?” There was a long silence on her end. “Matthew… Jennifer said she needs some time to herself.” Her voice was measured. “She asked us not to pass any messages along. And she asked that if you have any decency left, you won’t bother us.” Matthew stood holding the phone, his palm damp. For the first time, he felt something close to panic — the specific terror of realizing the world has quietly walked away from you. He put the phone down on the desk. His chest rose and fell hard. Grace came in wearing that sweetly suffocating perfume, her voice sliding into its familiar register. “Matthew, don’t let her get to you. She’s not worth it. A system is just a system — we’ll build a new one.” Matthew looked up slowly. His eyes had gone somewhere dangerous. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He said it quietly. That was worse than shouting. “You think this is a grocery run?” Grace froze, eyes going glassy. Matthew had already turned away from her. A thought had surfaced through the noise. Her desk computer. The server at home. Maybe there was still something salvageable. He grabbed his keys and left at a near sprint.

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I walked out of the airport after five years abroad, my heart full of hope that Harris would keep his promise and propose to me. But he just stood there, his face blank. “Sandy, I’m sorry.” Before I could even process that, he kept going. “That transfer order… I arranged it.” “I deliberately had you reassigned to that remote project out west so I could have space — for me and Ismael.” “She was pregnant back then. I had no choice.” A long silence. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. Five years. The desert wind cutting across the flats, brutal heat, sixteen-hour workdays — pure hell. And all of it had been a cage he built for me. “You’re too aggressive, too forceful. I was afraid you’d hurt her.” “I’m not telling you this to ask for forgiveness. I just want you to calm down ahead of time — don’t make a scene.” His voice carried the weight of someone who’d already made peace with what he’d done. I stepped back and dodged his outstretched hand, smiling through tears. “Harris, you turned something that could have ended with dignity into something that never will.”

Harris’s car followed my cab, flashing its headlights twice. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Ma’am, that BMW’s been tailing us. Someone you know?” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. “No.” “Want me to lose him?” “Don’t bother. He knows where I’m going.” The apartment building looked the same as always. Fresh ads were plastered inside the elevator. I dragged my suitcase to the door and pulled out my key. The lock didn’t sound right turning. The door swung open from the inside. Ismael stood there in a silk slip dress, holding a little boy, maybe three or four years old. She saw me. For a second she froze — then she smiled. “You’re back.” The boy clung to her neck and studied me with curious eyes. “Mommy, who’s that?” “Someone who used to live here.” Ismael ran a hand over his hair, then looked at me. “Want to come in? Harris mentioned you’d be back today — I just didn’t expect you so soon.” I looked past her into the living room. Their wedding photo hung on the wall. The couch was new. Children’s clothes were drying on the balcony. “This place…” “Is my home.” Ismael cut me off, her voice gentle. “It has been for five years. The moment Harris got the place, he had me move in.” My suitcase wheel caught in the doorframe. “He said once you left for the west, we’d get married.” The little boy started squirming, impatient to get down. Ismael set him on the floor and he ran straight for the toy bin in the corner of the living room. She leaned against the doorframe, looking me over. “You’ve gotten so thin. It must’ve been rough out there.” I tightened my grip on the suitcase handle. “Will Harris be home later?” “I don’t know.” She raised an eyebrow. “What do you need from him? Money? An explanation?” “Neither.” “Then why are you here?” I looked at her face — carefully maintained, effortlessly composed — and suddenly felt sick. “I’m here,” I said, keeping my voice as level as I could, “to get back what’s mine.” Ismael smiled. “And what exactly do you think you still have here? I threw out your clothes a long time ago. Harris sold your books — said they were taking up space.” “Oh, and those houseplants you were so proud of? They’re all dead.” She paused, then added: “I stopped watering them on purpose.” I turned and pressed the elevator button. Her voice followed me. “Sandy, don’t make a scene. You’ve got nothing left. You can’t win this.” The elevator doors closed. I leaned back against the cold metal wall and shut my eyes. Five years. I thought I was building a career. Turns out I was funding their honeymoon.

The next day I went to the office to process my return paperwork. Munir in HR looked up and her expression shifted. “Sandy, your position…” “I know. Ismael took it over.” I set my suitcase in the corner. “It’s fine. Just find me something standard.” Munir sighed and pulled up my file on her computer. “Your five years out west — the official record says you voluntarily requested the frontier support assignment, overcame difficult conditions, and completed the project successfully.” “That’s accurate.” “But,” she lowered her voice, “the outcome reports for all three projects you led — Ismael is listed as first author on every single one.” I went still. “That’s not possible. Those were my—” “You signed off on it.” Munir clicked open a document and turned the screen toward me. “See this? It’s an agreement from five years ago. You signed it, authorizing shared credit for all project outcomes across the team.” The signature was mine. But I had absolutely no memory of signing anything like that. “You left in a hurry back then. A lot of the paperwork was handled by Harris on your behalf.” Munir hesitated, like she wanted to say more, then pulled back. “Sandy, some things… never mind. Go find your desk.” My desk was wedged in the corner next to the printer, buried under a pile of other people’s junk. Colleagues passed by. Some pretended not to see me. Others gave a quick nod. Only Helen came over, dropping her voice. “You’re back? How?” “The project wrapped up.” “So you’re just… here?” She glanced toward Ismael’s office. “Watch yourself. She’s a supervisor now, and Harris is her husband.” I set down my bag. “I know.” That afternoon, my phone rang. Harris. I let it go to voicemail. He called again. Then twice more. On the fourth call, I picked up. “Sandy, we need to talk.” “There’s nothing to talk about.” “Ismael’s pregnant again. The doctor said the pregnancy is unstable — she can’t have any stress.” He sounded exhausted. “Can you just… stay out of our lives for a while?” A child’s voice carried through the phone. “Daddy, Mommy threw up!” “Coming, coming.” Harris said quickly, “That’s all. I’m asking you, please.” The call ended. I stared at the screen, and thought about the day five years ago when the transfer order came through. I’d called him crying. He said: “Wait for me. I’ll be right there.” Then he held me and said: “Go. Think of it as building experience. I’ll wait for you. We’ll get married when you’re back.” That day, there was a faint perfume on him. Not the one he usually wore. Now I knew. It was Ismael’s.

I went to the hospital for a full checkup. The doctor studied the report, his brow furrowing. “Ms. Sandy, your situation…” “Just tell me straight.” “Endometriosis. Severe decline in ovarian function.” He adjusted his glasses. “The likelihood of natural conception is… close to zero.” I held the report. The paper edge dug into my palm. “Is it from the work environment?” “Prolonged high-intensity work, chronic stress, combined with the climate out west…” He paused. “You’re still young. If you start treatment now, there may still be a chance.” I walked out of the exam room. The hallway was lined with pregnant women. They sat rubbing their bellies, their faces soft with happiness. One husband crouched down and pressed his ear to his wife’s stomach, listening for movement. I turned sideways and slipped past them, pushed open the door to the stairwell. The stairwell was empty. I crouched down and buried my face in my knees. Don’t cry. Crying means losing. Three days later — the company’s annual gala. I didn’t want to go, but Helen said, “You’ve been here long enough. Skipping would look bad.” I put on a black dress and stood in the corner of the venue. The lights were bright. The music was loud. Harris walked in with Ismael on his arm. Everyone swarmed toward them. “Congratulations, you two!” “You’re so lucky!” Ismael smiled and said her thank-yous, one hand resting protectively over her stomach the whole time. Harris had his arm around her waist, looking down at her with an expression so tender it was almost unbearable to watch. Someone spotted me and gave a subtle tilt of their chin. The room went quiet for a beat, then picked right back up. Ismael made her way over to me, belly first. “Sandy. Long time.” I held up my champagne. “Congratulations.” “Thanks.” She touched her stomach. “Might be a girl. Harris is over the moon — says she’ll look just like me.” She looked at me, then leaned in and dropped her voice. “You know what Harris told me? He said if he hadn’t gotten you transferred back then, he would’ve been torn for a lot longer.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means,” she smiled — warm, bright, practiced — “thank you for stepping aside when you did. We wouldn’t have any of this without you.” My hand was shaking. Champagne splashed onto my dress. “Ismael,” I said, meeting her eyes. “Do you know that when you were pregnant with your first child, I was on a construction site out west in negative-thirty-degree weather, running a fever of a hundred and four, nearly dying?” She blinked. “So?” “I called Harris seventeen times. Not one answer.” “That was our anniversary.” She smiled. “He was with me picking out my wedding gown.” I breathed in slowly. She added: “Chanel Haute Couture. Limited edition. The one with the pearl embroidery at the waist.” I had tried on that gown. Five years ago. Harris had said: “When we get married, we’re buying that one.” Turns out he didn’t mean we. I set down my glass and turned to leave. Harris was standing right behind me. I don’t know when he’d gotten there. He looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Sandy…” “Don’t say my name.” I said. “It makes me sick.” I walked out of the banquet hall. Rain was falling outside. I stood under the overhang and watched the downpour blur the city into nothing. Footsteps behind me. Harris had followed me out. He was holding an umbrella. He held it out to me. “Take it. You’ll catch a cold.” “Why do you care?” He was quiet for a moment. “I know you hate me.” “I don’t hate you.” I said. “I just think I wasted five years on a man who wasn’t worth a day.” “Those five years—” “Those five years,” I cut him off, “I worked sixteen-hour days in the desert. My period stopped for three months. My hair fell out in clumps.” “I pushed through it because I told myself: hold on, get home, and you’ll be married.” His face went pale. “And you,” I almost laughed, “spent those five years getting married, having a kid, and now you’re on your second.” “I’m sorry.” “Sorry fixes what, exactly?” I stared at him. “Harris, I can’t even work up the energy to hate you properly. You just make me feel like a joke.” The rain got heavier. He tilted the umbrella toward me. I pushed his hand away, stepped into the rain. The cold hit me all at once, soaking through everything.

A week later, I got a call from home. Mom was crying. “Sandy, your father’s in the hospital!” I rushed back. Dad — who already had a heart condition — was lying in the hospital bed, his face the color of ash. Mom grabbed my hands. “Someone mailed your father a letter. It said you… it said you were breaking up someone’s marriage. That you were the other woman.” “I wasn’t!” “There were photos!” Mom wiped her eyes. “Screenshots of your messages with Harris. And statements from people at your company.” I snatched the envelope. The photos were doctored. The chat logs were fabricated — but convincingly. The kind of thing that would fool anyone who wanted to believe it. “Dad, let me explain—” My father opened his eyes and looked at me for a long moment. “I believe you.” Then he closed them again. The heart monitor screamed. Doctors rushed in. I was pushed out of the room. In the hallway, Harris was standing there. He was holding a fruit basket. A nurse walked past and murmured, “Harris is such a good man — coming to check on his ex’s father like this.” I looked at him. Then I crossed the hall and slapped him as hard as I could. The basket hit the floor. Fruit scattered everywhere. “You did this.” “I didn’t know—” “You didn’t know?” I grabbed the front of his shirt. “Those photos. Those records. Who else would have them?” He caught my wrists. “Sandy, calm down!” “How am I supposed to calm down!” I was screaming. “If anything happens to my father, I will make you pay for it!” The hospital room door opened. The doctor came out and pulled down his mask. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could.” My world collapsed in that moment. Three days later, the funeral. My mother wouldn’t let me through the door. “Get out,” she said from behind the closed door. “Your father doesn’t want to see you.” I knelt outside from morning until late afternoon. Harris and Ismael arrived. They bowed their heads in respect. Ismael saw me and said softly, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” I looked at Harris. My eyes said everything. His face went white. Ismael touched his sleeve. “Let’s go.” They left. Finally, my mother opened the door. She looked at me, and there was nothing in her eyes but hatred. “Are you satisfied? Your father is dead. Are you satisfied?” I crawled forward on my knees and wrapped my arms around her legs. “Mom…” “Don’t touch me!” She shoved me away. “I don’t have a daughter like you!” I pressed my forehead to the cold tile floor. A few days after my father’s death, I got a call from the company. “Sandy, you’ve been terminated.” HR’s voice was flat. “Grounds: serious violation of professional ethics. During the western project, you maintained inappropriate relationships with multiple male colleagues.” I went straight to the office and barged into HR. “Show me the evidence.” The manager threw a stack of photos on the table. Work site pictures of me with male colleagues, printed with filthy captions someone had added. “This is defamation.” “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” The manager looked at me. “The company can’t keep someone like you on staff.” I went to find Harris. His assistant blocked the door. “Harris is in a meeting.” I waited until dark. He finally came out of the conference room. When he saw me, his step faltered. “I know what you’re going to say.” He spoke first. “This decision came from the company. There’s nothing I can do.” “Harris, you set me up.” “It wasn’t me.” He frowned. “Ismael said—” “Whatever Ismael says, you just go along with it?” I stepped toward him. “She destroyed my father. Now she’s destroying my career. And you’re just going to help her?” He stepped back. “Sandy, calm down.” “I am calm.” I said. “I just want to know — can you sleep at night?” He didn’t answer. I turned and walked to the elevator. When I got downstairs, people were waiting. Seven or eight of them, holding signs. “Homewrecker!” “Get out of this city!” Someone threw something at me — red ink. It poured over my head, soaked through my clothes, dripped down to the ground. I stood there, red running down my skin. Harris’s car came up from the underground garage and stopped at the curb. He got out, broke up the crowd, then turned and looked at me. He sighed. “Sandy, why can’t you just handle things with some dignity? Why does it always have to go this far?” I dragged my hand across my face. Red dripped from my fingers. “Dignity?” I almost laughed. “Tell me how, exactly.” He got back in his car and drove away. I went back to my apartment and found the locks had been changed. My bags were sitting outside the door. The landlord poked his head out. “I packed your stuff. You need to go.” “Why?” “Someone filed a complaint. Said you’re a bad influence on the building.” He waved me off. “I’m not renting to you anymore.” I sat down next to my suitcase. The same suitcase I’d taken out west five years ago. The same one I’d just brought back. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. I sat in a convenience store through the whole night. The city woke up in the morning light. It was beautiful. But I didn’t want to stay in it for another minute.

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My coworker pushed me out of a burning car. He died. His wife was nine months pregnant, about to give birth. His wife pressured me to marry her. I quit my job, took care of her and the baby, and spent six years as a full-time stay-at-home dad. Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, dropping him off at preschool. She didn’t want to have kids with me. I said fine. Six years. We never fought once. Until the day at the police station, when six-year-old Jack pointed at me and said — “I don’t know this man. He was trying to kidnap me.” I looked at him, and I just started laughing. Six years of debt. Paid in full. Guess who panicked first after I turned around and walked out of that police station? One of the fluorescent lights in the police station was broken, buzzing and flickering — just like the wire strung tight inside my head. Jack sat in the chair across from the officer, his little legs dangling in the air, wearing the expression of someone delivering righteous judgment. “I don’t know this man.” He pointed at me. Six years old. Clear pronunciation, articulate delivery. I taught him myself. From the moment he started babbling his first words, every sound, every syllable — I corrected them one by one. Including the phrase “I don’t know.” The officer glanced at me, then at Jack, his expression somewhere between awkward and uncertain. “Sir, the child says he doesn’t know you…” I pulled up photos on my phone — my ID and our marriage certificate — and held them out. “Jack. Six years old. He’s my stepson. His mom, Victoria, is my wife.” The officer looked them over, confirmed everything checked out, and visibly relaxed. “Then this must be a misunderstanding. Kids sometimes—” “It’s not a misunderstanding.” I cut him off. Jack was still swinging his legs, completely unbothered. Almost smug. I knew that look. It was the same look Victoria wore when she steamrolled her subordinates in meetings. I crouched down to his eye level. “Jack… tell me. Who taught you to say that?” He scrunched up his mouth. “Mom said you’re not my dad. My dad was a hero. You’re just the guy who lives in our house.” The guy who lives in our house. I turned those words over slowly. The muscles in my jaw twitched. Six years. Two thousand, one hundred and ninety days. Up at three in the morning to prep ingredients. Breakfast ready by five. Dropping him off at preschool by seven. Cleaning the house by nine. Grocery run at eleven. Picking him up at three-thirty. Teaching him to read in the evenings. Telling him stories until he fell asleep. The guy who lives in their house. Yeah. That was about right. The house was in Falcon’s name. The car was in Victoria’s name. The savings were in Victoria’s account. I really was nothing. “Okay.” I stood up. The officer was still saying something — probably the usual “kids don’t know any better” kind of thing. I wasn’t listening. I pocketed my phone and pushed open the station door. The March wind hit my face like a slap, cool and sharp. I stood on the front steps and pulled out my phone. Sent Victoria a text. “Your son is at the Sunshine Road police station. He told them I was a kidnapper. Come get him.” I stared at it for a second, then added one more line. “Let’s get a divorce tomorrow.” Fifteen seconds after I hit send, my phone rang. I declined the call. I didn’t want to hear her voice today. Six years. Everything I needed to say, I’d already said. Whatever was left — it didn’t need saying anymore. I stepped down off the stairs. Behind me, Jack started crying — probably realized no one was coming for him and lost his nerve. In the past, the moment he cried, my legs would go weak. Today, they didn’t. From here on out, I was done looking after him.

What happened six years ago is actually pretty simple. Falcon and I were coworkers. Same project team, desks right next to each other, the kind of guys who grabbed lunch at the cafeteria together. Nothing deeper than that — at most, he’d bring an extra sausage in his lunch and toss one my way. We were pulling an all-nighter and shared a ride home around 2 a.m. He took the passenger seat. I sat in the back. Dead tired, half-asleep, scrolling my phone. Then came the impact. A semi. Running a red light. The front of the car crumpled on impact. The steering wheel pinned the driver instantly. The airbag hit me and my head was ringing. I couldn’t see straight. Falcon grabbed me from the front seat. The traffic investigator told me later — he’d kicked open the rear door first, then shoved me out from behind. Then the car caught fire. He never made it out. At the funeral, Victoria stood there with her nine-month belly, and didn’t cry once. She stood perfectly straight, like a nail driven into the floor. After everyone left, she called out to me. “Balder.” I turned around. “Falcon’s gone,” she said. “The baby comes next month.” “Let me know if you need anything,” I told her. She looked up at me. Her eyes were red around the edges, but there were no tears. “A child can’t grow up without a father. Would you… would you marry me?” I stood in the hallway of the funeral home. Outside, November wind. The overhead lights cast a cold, pale glow. I understood what she meant. I was twenty-eight. No wife. No girlfriend. Falcon had used his life to push me out of that car. I owed him one. “Okay,” I said. One word. Six years on the line. By the time we went to register the marriage, her belly was enormous. The clerk smiled and offered congratulations. Victoria signed the form without expression and passed the pen to me. “I want to say something first,” she said. “Go ahead.” “I’ll have the baby myself. You just help take care of him. After that… I’m not going to have children with you.” I held the pen. A two-second pause. “Fine.” “And,” she looked at me, her tone as flat as if she were closing a business deal, “my career is in a growth phase. I don’t have time to manage things at home. If you’re willing — you could quit your job.” My salary at the time was decent. I was a core member of the project team. “Fine,” I said. She nodded, stood up, and left. Not a single “thank you.” Not once, from start to finish. I didn’t blame her. She didn’t think she owed me one. In her mind, this was a debt I owed Falcon. And maybe she was right. The day Jack was born, I waited outside the delivery room for six hours. A nurse came out carrying a tiny, wrinkled, impossibly ugly baby. “Congratulations,” she said. I took him. My hands were shaking. His eyes were shut tight, and he was screaming his lungs out. I looked at him and thought: Falcon, can you see this? Your son is really, really ugly. But alive. Alive is all that matters. From that day on, I was officially a full-time stay-at-home dad. Twenty-eight years old. Quit my job. Started learning how to mix formula, change diapers, and get a baby to stop crying. The neighbors watched me like I was an exotic animal. “Why is that young guy always out here with the baby?” “He’s probably living off his wife.” “His wife must be some kind of executive. She makes the money, he just hangs around the house.” I heard them. I didn’t explain. There was no point. No way to make it make sense. A grown man, not working, staying home with a kid. In this world, that makes you a freeloader.

When Jack was a year and a half, he learned to say “Mama.” Victoria happened to be home that day — she’d been working until one in the morning and had just walked in the door. Jack pulled himself up against the playpen railing and reached for her. “Mama! Mama!” Victoria froze for a second, then crouched down and held him. Smiled — rare, for her. I stood in the kitchen doorway, holding the dinner I’d kept warm for her. “Did you teach him to call you something too?” she asked. “I tried,” I said. “He still gets confused.” Jack turned and looked at me. “Da—” Something warm moved through my chest — but Victoria’s expression shut down. “Don’t teach him to call you Dad.” Her voice was quiet, but cold. “His father is Falcon. You’re Balder.” My hands went still around the plate. “Then… what should he call me?” “Uncle.” I looked at Jack’s small, confused face. He was barely a year and a half. He didn’t understand any of it. “Fine.” After that, Jack called me “Uncle Balder.” When Jack was three, Victoria got promoted to department director. She took her team out to celebrate. Didn’t invite me. I cooked a full dinner at home and waited until eleven at night, reheating the food three times. She came home smelling like wine. I took her bag and jacket. “You should eat something. Drinking on an empty stomach will wreck you.” She waved me off. “Not hungry. Tired.” “I made some oatmeal—” “I said I’m not hungry.” She frowned at me. “Are you deaf?” I stood in the entryway, her jacket still in my hands. “…Okay. Get some rest then.” I hung up her jacket, cleared the table, and packed everything into the fridge. The oatmeal, I finished myself. Victoria wasn’t a bad person. She just didn’t see me as a person. No — she did see me as a person. A utility. The one who cooked. The one who watched the kid. The one who handled the household. The one who paid the building fees. The one who signed for packages. Every task had my name on it. But not a single one left room for me. When Jack was four, Victoria’s mother came to stay for a month. Her name was Clara. She was a piece of work. First day in the door, she found me cutting vegetables in the kitchen. “Balder, Victoria says you quit your job?” “Yeah. I stay home with Jack.” “A man who doesn’t work.” She dropped her bag on the couch. “What kind of example is that. If I were twenty years younger, we wouldn’t need you here at all.” My knife stilled for a moment. I didn’t say anything. She kept going. “And don’t act like you’re being wronged. You get to live in this house and spend Victoria’s money. That’s already more than you deserve.” For that entire month, Clara found something to say to me every single day. “You didn’t mop that properly.” “Why is Jack coughing? What kind of job are you doing?” I endured it. Falcon’s life for mine. That was the trade. His wife and her mother could say what they wanted. I could take it. But there were some things I couldn’t. When Jack was five, he started the advanced preschool program. The teacher asked them to draw “My Family.” Jack brought the drawing home to show me. Three figures: a tall mom, a small version of himself, and a dad floating in the sky. The dad in the sky had a circle around his head. A halo. I wasn’t in the picture. “Jack,” I pointed at the paper. “Where am I?” He tilted his head, thought about it, then drew a small figure in the corner. “Who’s that?” “The babysitter.” I stared at the stick figure tucked in the corner. The corner of my mouth pulled. “Jack, I’m not the babysitter.” “Mom says you’re the person who takes care of us,” he said, completely earnest. “Isn’t that what a babysitter does?” I handed the drawing back to him. “Go wash your hands. Dinner’s ready.” That evening, when Victoria got home, I showed her the drawing. “Did you tell Jack I was the babysitter?” She was swapping out her heels for slippers, not looking up. “When did I say that? He came up with it himself.” “You told him I was ‘the person who takes care of you guys.’” “Isn’t that what you are?” She finally looked up. Calm. Level. “You don’t work. You don’t bring in money. You cook and pick up the kid every day. If that’s not ‘taking care of us,’ what would you call it?” I looked at her. She looked back at me. No emotion on her face — the way you’d look at a wall. Or a piece of furniture. Something you could swap out whenever it suited you. “Fine.” I turned and went back to the kitchen. When Jack was five and a half, Victoria signed him up for a taekwondo class. The instructor’s name was Porter. Two years younger than me, six-two, strong jaw, bright eyes, and a grin full of white teeth. Jack loved him. “Coach Porter is so cool!” “Coach Porter said I did great today!” “Mom, Coach Porter says I’m ready to compete!” Every time I picked Jack up from class, Porter would stop to chat. After a while I realized he wasn’t asking about Jack. He was asking about Victoria. “Has Jack’s mom been busy lately?” “Jack’s mom looked a little tired the other day. Everything okay?” “Jack’s mom has such a beautiful name.” I looked at his cheerful, open face. Porter. Heads up — she’s married. To me. I know, I know. I might as well be invisible. But legally, I’m still here. I didn’t say any of that. Not out of generosity. I just didn’t want to embarrass myself. On Jack’s sixth birthday, Victoria actually took a half day off work. That almost never happened. I cooked a full dinner and baked a cake from scratch — chocolate, Jack’s favorite. I was up at four in the morning to make it. Spent two hours on the frosting. We lit the candles. Jack squeezed his eyes shut to make a wish. “I wish Mom would always be with me… and…” He opened his eyes, looked at Victoria, then looked at me. “…and I wish that person would hurry up and leave.” Victoria didn’t react. The lighter slipped in my hand. “Which person?” I asked. Jack looked at me, eyes wide and guileless. Six-year-olds don’t know how to hide what they feel. He didn’t hate me. He just genuinely, sincerely believed — I was someone who didn’t belong. Victoria said quietly, “Okay. Make a wish and blow.” Jack took a deep breath and blew. The candles went out. Smoke curled up in thin ribbons, blurring his little face. I clapped once. “Happy birthday.” My voice came out steady. My hands were just a little cold.

Back to now. After the thing at the police station, I went home. I opened the door. The apartment was spotless — I’d mopped before I left that morning. The kitchen counter was wiped clean. The fridge was stocked with three days’ worth of groceries. Six years of habit. I walked into my room — the guest room, to be exact. Victoria had the master. In six years of marriage, we’d never shared a bed. The guest room was small. A twin-size bed. A wardrobe. I opened the wardrobe. There wasn’t much inside. Being a stay-at-home dad didn’t require a wardrobe. A few worn-in T-shirts and jeans were more than enough. I pulled out a suitcase and packed. Clothes. Two books. An old watch — my dad’s, the only thing he left me. Fifteen minutes, done. Six years of living, compressed into a single carry-on bag. Unbelievably light. I set the house keys on the shoe rack and took one last look around. The family photo on the living room wall didn’t have me in it. Jack’s growth wall had a few shots where you could catch my profile — I’d been caught in the frame while wiping his mouth, the kind of angle they couldn’t crop out without cutting him too. I laughed once, quietly. Grabbed my suitcase and walked out. The door shut behind me with a soft click. Clean. Final. In the elevator, I pulled out my phone. Victoria had texted back. “I picked up Jack. What is your problem? Why are you being like this?” “Tell me when you want to go tomorrow. I’ll make it work.” Ten seconds later: “Are you serious?” “Never been more serious.” A long silence. Then she called. I picked up. “Balder, are you out of your mind? You’re actually taking what a kid says literally?” “Victoria Hills.” I used her full name. My voice came out steadier than I expected. “Every single word he said — you put it there.” “I never—” “He called me ‘the guy who lives in their house.’ He drew me as the babysitter in his family portrait. His birthday wish was for me to disappear. Today at the station, he said he didn’t know me.” I leaned against the elevator wall. “Once is just kids being kids. Twice is picking things up at home. Three times, four times — Victoria, you might as well have carved ‘Balder isn’t family’ into his forehead.” Silence from her end. I kept going. “I owed Falcon my life. I didn’t owe you anything. Six years — debt paid, with interest. From today, you and I are done.” “You—” “Tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. We’re filing for divorce.” I hung up. The elevator opened on the ground floor. Outside, full sun. March sunlight hit my shoulders. Warm in a way that almost didn’t feel real. I wheeled my suitcase out of the building. Three steps out, my phone rang again. Clara. “Balder! You get back here right now! You think you’re too good for us now?!” I held the phone a few inches from my ear. Her voice still rattled my skull. “Six years you ate Victoria’s food, slept under Victoria’s roof, and now you just walk out?! What is wrong with you?!” I took a slow breath. “First — the house was Falcon’s. Not Victoria’s.” “Second — I never spent a dollar of her money. Everything in that house came out of my own savings.” “Third—” I smiled a little. “Your daughter hasn’t said a kind word to me in six years. And today her son told the police I was a kidnapper.” “So I’d love for you to tell me — who exactly is the one without a conscience?” I hung up and blocked the number. Like stepping out of a long, hot shower. I flagged down a cab. “Riverside Inn, on Carlton Street.” Small place I knew. Clean, quiet, around a hundred a night. More than enough. For the first time in six years, I didn’t have to arrange my day around what time Victoria came home or when Jack needed to eat. That whole afternoon, I lay on the hotel bed and stared at the ceiling. The ceiling was white. There was a water stain in one corner. I stared at it for two hours. My head was empty. Not sad. Just — empty. For six years, every minute of every day had been full. Wall-to-wall, no gaps. Now, without warning, there was nothing. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I rolled over and picked up my phone. Scrolled through my contacts. Friends? Haven’t talked to any of them in six years. Old coworkers? Quit six years ago. Family? Both parents gone. Only child. I stared at the barren contact list. Almost laughed. Twenty-eight to thirty-four. The best six years of a man’s life. I gave them to a woman who never loved me and a kid who never claimed me. Stupid? Incredibly. But I don’t regret it. Falcon shoved me out of that car with his life on the line. That was real. These six years — that debt is cleared. From right now, Balder’s life belongs to Balder. I put down the phone and closed my eyes. Slept better than I had in six years.

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Everyone knew Ethan and I loved each other to our very core. To save me, he’d given me the only bottle of antitoxin, ready to die himself. To protect him, I’d used my body to shield him from a kidnapper’s knife, taking a fatal blow for him. Everyone thought we’d be together forever. But the day after he proposed, I dumped him cold-turkey and married Liam, who had been pursuing me for ages. Even after my betrayal, Ethan held no grudge. He still loved me like before. Later, when my daughter had a car accident, he even sacrificed his leg to save her. Even Liam, who despised Ethan to his very core, was eventually moved by Ethan’s unwavering love for me and became his good friend. When Ethan was unexpectedly diagnosed with a terminal illness, Liam even insisted on donating a kidney to him. But when I heard the news, I acted completely out of character. I gave Liam the cold shoulder. I insisted, “Liam, if you insist on giving a kidney to that Ethan, then we’re getting a divorce immediately!” Liam tried to reassure me, telling me not to worry about him. My daughter, Lily, also cried, begging me to save her Uncle Ethan. But I stared into Ethan’s deep, loving eyes, gave a cold laugh, and my voice was absolutely resolute. “Who’s worried about you? What I want is for Ethan to die a miserable death!” “If you dare to give him even half a kidney, I’ll divorce you completely, even if it means losing custody of Lily!” “Save him or choose me. You decide!”

The hospital room fell silent. Liam stared blankly at Ethan, then at me, pleading, “Summer, now’s not the time for games.” “I know you’re afraid I’ll misunderstand our relationship. I admit I used to think the worst.” “But he broke a leg to save our daughter. It would be heartless to just let him die!” Grandma Betty, who was sharing the room with Ethan, also nodded, looking at me with some reproach. “Exactly.” “Summer, we all saw how good Ethan was to you.” “Even if you married someone else and don’t like him, there’s no need to be so cruel and doom him to die.”

After delivering my harsh words in the hospital room, I drove straight home. The moment I walked in, I saw my parents, David and Brenda, and Liam’s parents, Robert and Carol, sitting in the living room, their expressions extremely serious. Brenda was about to speak when Carol stopped her. She sighed, looking at me with a touch of helplessness, and said calmly, “Summer, we know about Ethan’s situation.” “My dear, are you still worried that we’ll think something’s going on between you and Ethan, which is why you won’t let Liam help him?” “If that’s the reason, please don’t overthink it.” “After all, we’ve watched Ethan grow up since he was a child. Even if you two were together before, we wouldn’t misunderstand.” “Besides, Liam doesn’t mind, so why are you so set against it?” Seeing Carol’s understanding expression, I didn’t say a word and turned to leave. But Brenda rushed over and grabbed my arm, her face thunderous. “Summer, how did you become so cold-blooded?” “You broke up with Ethan cold-turkey back then, and less than a month after dumping him, you married Liam. Any other man would have hated you to death!” “But Ethan not only didn’t hate you, he’s been so good to you and Liam all these years. Where can you find a good man like that?” “Do you know that both your kidney and Liam’s are a match for Ethan, but he absolutely refused to use yours!” “Even if you don’t like him anymore, considering his feelings for you all these years, you shouldn’t doom him to die!” I coldly pushed Brenda’s hand away, glanced at her anxious expression, and smiled slightly. “So what? Did I force him to be good to me?” “All these years, because of him, Liam and I have argued countless times. He knows that better than anyone!” “A menace like him, if he dies, good riddance! I can finally live a quiet life then!” “You want me to save him? Dream on!” The moment my words fell, I received a harsh slap from Brenda. Her eyes red-rimmed, she pointed at me, trembling and yelling, “You beast, you’re an animal!” “How did I give birth to such a callous and ungrateful wretch! Instead of appreciating others’ kindness, you want to kill your benefactor!” I clutched my face, suppressing the sting in my nose, and was about to retort when Carol, who had come to mediate, pulled me aside. She sighed, comforting Brenda while trying to persuade me. “Summer, I watched you grow up and I know you’re a good child.” “Tell me honestly, do you have some unspoken difficulty? Or did Ethan hurt you by being with another woman, making you so ruthless?” I glanced at Carol and sneered, “Other things I can’t say, but when Ethan was with me, he absolutely never dated another woman.” Carol looked puzzled. “Then why do you hate him so much? Even after he broke a leg to save Lily, you still won’t forgive him?” I suppressed the emotions surging within me and said calmly, “Forget breaking a leg. Even if he died for Lily, it would be what he deserved!” “As for the kidney donation, my stance has always been clear.” “If Liam donates to him, I will divorce him.” “If any of you find a suitable kidney donor for Ethan, I will retaliate to the end!” “If you don’t mind being my enemy, then try me!” With that, I stormed out. After all, I run the family business now. No matter how much my parents objected, they wouldn’t dare completely fall out with me. As for Liam’s family, I control several key businesses, so they wouldn’t dare cross me. But as I got into the car, Sarah, my assistant, who had been following me, couldn’t help but ask, “Summer, I’m really curious, why are you so determined?” “Because before, I thought you and Mr. Ethan had a great relationship, and Mr. Liam doesn’t even mind, so why are you so…” I looked at Sarah and said, word for word, “Precisely because I once truly and deeply loved Ethan, I now have to watch him die!” Sarah looked bewildered. “Did Mr. Ethan do something to wrong you in the past?” I suddenly froze, as if struck by something, an aching emptiness in my chest. After a long while, I lowered my head and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “No, Ethan truly loved me deeply and never betrayed me.” “When I accepted his proposal before, I was genuinely sincere, wanting to spend my life with him.” But now, everything has changed. Now, I only want Ethan. To die.

It wasn’t until late at night that I returned home alone. But the moment I entered the bedroom, the smile on my face froze. Liam was sitting on the bed, staring at me intently. Everything in the room had been changed. Books Ethan liked to read were on the desk, and the flowers in the vase had been replaced with Ethan’s favorite roses. In front of Liam was an empty medicine bottle. I remained silent, but Liam didn’t give me a chance to ignore everything. He slowly said, “Summer, have you truly forgotten these things?” “Even if you’ve forgotten everything else, you can’t have forgotten this, right?” He tapped the medicine bottle, sighed, and said with a solemn expression, “I really hated Ethan before, especially right after we got married.” “It sounds ridiculous, but I wrongly thought you two were still seeing each other and even confronted him.” “But no matter how much I hit him, he didn’t fight back, and finally he showed me this.” “That’s when I found out that when you two went on that expedition into the Amazonian rainforest, both of you were bitten by venomous snakes, but there was only one bottle of antitoxin.” “He gave the only bottle to you, and almost died from the snake venom himself…” “After that, I understood. He truly loves you. I can never compare to him.” “But I also know that without him, you wouldn’t be who you are today, so now, I truly see him as a benefactor.” As he spoke, he stood up and wrapped his arms around my waist, sighing into my ear, “Summer, I don’t know why you broke up with him cold-turkey back then, but believe me, I’m genuinely willing to save him.” “I swear, I won’t tamper with the surgery to harm him.” “You don’t have to worry about our marriage being ruined by him, nor do you have to worry about me doing anything to him.” “Let’s help him together, okay?” Liam’s words were so sincere that I was almost moved. But I remained silent, just staring intently at that small medicine bottle, almost in tears. I never forgot how much love and pain I felt when I thought I was going to die and saw Ethan give me the chance at survival. So I didn’t hide my feelings. “Liam, I admit, even today, I haven’t completely forgotten Ethan.” “His kindness to me, every moment we shared in the past, I still remember.” “I can even say that I still love him.” But the next second, I fiercely pushed Liam away and said coldly, “But precisely because of that, I *must* send him to his death!” “Only when he’s dead can my life return to normal, and our marriage can continue!” Liam looked at me with a complicated expression. After a long while, he slowly said, “Summer, to hide your guilt, you’d actually want someone who loves you to die.” “I’ve lived with you for five or six years, why did I never realize how malicious you are?” “Will you treat me the same way if I ever get in your way?” I couldn’t be bothered with him and was about to leave. But four-year-old Lily suddenly pushed open the door, her eyes red, and sobbed as she rushed into my arms, asking in a baby voice, “Mommy, please save Uncle Ethan, okay?” “Uncle Ethan got so badly hurt saving Lily. Lily doesn’t want Uncle Ethan to die!” I stared at my once beloved daughter, my smile icy cold. “Oh really?” “Well, too bad. Your Uncle Ethan is going to hell very soon.” I turned to leave, but accidentally bumped into Lily as I walked past her. My daughter fell to the floor, instantly crying out in pain. Liam immediately picked up Lily, glaring fiercely at me. “Summer, Lily is just a child, why would you say such cruel things to her!” “Ethan and I must have been blind back then, to have fallen for a woman like you!” “You don’t deserve to be Lily’s mother!” Lily huddled in Liam’s arms, crying her heart out. Her eyes, looking at me, also became filled with rejection and disgust, and she cried out, “Mommy’s bad! Lily doesn’t want a bad mommy!” “Uncle Ethan is a million times better than Mommy! Lily wants to go find Uncle Ethan!” Listening to the child’s shrill, piercing voice, all my previous annoyance suddenly surged up. I simply turned my head and said fiercely to Lily, “Fine, you can go find him now.” “Once I freeze all your bank cards, you and your Uncle Ethan can starve together!” Lily immediately fell silent, but her red eyes still glared at me fiercely. Liam looked utterly disappointed. “Summer, do you have any humanity left?” “Even to your own daughter, you’re this cruel?” I gave a cold smile, completely unfazed. “I told you, anyone who stands with Ethan is my enemy, and Lily is no exception.” “Liam, are you that eager to play the cuckold? To the point where you’d fall out with your own wife just to save a man who used to pursue her?” “Or do you have some unspeakable癖好 (secret fetish)?” Liam’s face instantly changed, and a flicker of guilt passed through Lily’s eyes. I didn’t bother with them anymore and simply went to a hotel. On the way, Sarah told me that the last bit of Ethan’s family assets had also been completely devoured by my company, Su Group. Seeing my triumphant smile, she still looked puzzled. “Summer, do you really have no feelings left for Ethan?” I shook my head. “No. From beginning to end, the only person I loved was Ethan.” Sarah looked even more confused. “Then why are you so against Mr. Liam donating a kidney to Ethan?” “After all, it’s Mr. Liam’s body that’s being harmed, not yours. Why do you care so much?” My eyes suddenly turned sharp and ruthless, and I sneered, “My love for Ethan doesn’t conflict with my desire for him to die.” “Now that all of Ethan’s family assets are in my name.” “It’s time to unveil this grand scheme.”

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On Christmas Eve, I braved the heavy snow, hurrying home. On the way, I scrolled through a trending post. [My family’s parasite insists on coming for Christmas dinner, but we just want a cozy holiday as a family of three. How do we subtly tell her to get lost?] I remember thinking, *seriously? In this day and age, people still have such freeloading relatives? They totally deserve to be shunned.* The top-voted comment was particularly nasty: [Just change the front door code, pretend you can’t hear the knocking. After she freezes for two hours, she’ll leave.] I chuckled, shaking my head at my phone, and texted Brenda, my mom, that I was almost there. She instantly replied with a warm “Waiting for you,” and my heart swelled. Half an hour later, I stood at my front door and entered the code three times. The lock’s cold voice prompted: [Password incorrect.] Thinking the lock was broken, I was about to knock when I heard laughter from inside. Through the crack under the door, I saw Kevin, my brother, snapping photos of a lavish spread of food. The next second, a new update popped up on my Ins feed from Kevin. [Christmas dinner without outsiders is true family bonding! Merry Christmas, everyone!] In that photo, Mom and Dad were smiling more relaxed than I’d ever seen them. On the table, there were only three place settings. My hand, raised to knock, froze in mid-air. The chill in my heart was far more biting than the wind and snow.

In this house, I paid the mortgage. I covered the utilities. I sent money for living expenses every single month. Yet, on Christmas Day, I was the superfluous “outsider.” I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the bitter ache welling in my chest. *Maybe it’s a misunderstanding?* *Maybe Kevin’s “outsider” referred to some other unwanted guest?* My hand trembling, I dialed Mom’s number. The ringtone chimed a few times from inside the house, then was abruptly hung up. Immediately after, a SnapChat message arrived. **[Olivia, we’re watching TV, and it’s loud, so we can’t hear. How much longer until you arrive? Drive safely, no rush.]** A lie. A complete and utter lie. I was standing right outside the door. From inside, I distinctly heard energetic rock music, not a Christmas special. And they definitely heard the phone ring; they just deliberately hung up. My knuckles turned white as I clutched my phone. Still unwilling to give up, I pounded hard on the door. “Dad! Mom! I’m home! Open the door!” The music inside abruptly cut out for a second. Then, Kevin’s cracking voice rang out. “Seriously? Why is that freeloader here so early? Such a buzzkill.” Mom’s hushed voice followed. “Shh! Lower your voice! Don’t let her hear you.” “Who cares if she hears! She just *had* to come back and annoy everyone on Christmas. She never considers if she’s even wanted.” Kevin complained carelessly, but his footsteps were coming toward the door. A sliver of hope sparked in my chest. *At least they’ll open the door now, right?* However, the footsteps stopped right at the door. Through the thin wood, I heard Kevin’s sneering laugh. “Olivia, the password changed. You know how forgetful you are.” “What’s the new password?” I asked, struggling to control my anger. “The new password, huh…” Kevin drew out the words. “It’s the sum of our family of three’s birthdays. You can figure it out.” *A family of three.* Dad, Mom, Kevin. Sure enough, there was no place for me in this family. My mind buzzed. “Kevin, stop messing around. It’s snowing heavily out here, and I’m freezing. Open the door!” “If you’re cold, just jump around a bit to warm up.” Kevin smirked. “Besides, Mom said the lock is a bit finicky; it takes a while to open. Why don’t you stand outside and think about why you always have to come back and be annoying during the holidays?” My eyes widened in disbelief. *Reflect?* *What did I do wrong?* *Because I worked hard all year and just wanted to come home for a warm meal?* Just then, my phone vibrated again. The trending post had a new reply. **OP: [That parasite knocking at the door is annoying, but listening to her shiver outside while we eat king crab inside feels amazing! Thanks for the tips, everyone!]** The post included a photo taken through a peephole. In the picture, I was covered in snow, looking disheveled, like a stray dog. At that moment, all the blood in my veins turned to ice. *It turned out the person who posted about a “parasite” in the family was my own brother, Kevin!* *And that “parasite,” mocked by the entire internet, with suggestions to freeze her for two hours until she leaves?* *That was me.*

I stared at the photo, my eyes burning, yet unable to shed a single tear. *Who was the real parasite here?* I paid the down payment for this house. I paid the $12,000 monthly mortgage. I covered Kevin’s tuition and living expenses for all four years of college. Even the king crab they were eating right now? I’d specifically ordered it on Amazon and had it shipped home last week! Now, the real parasites were sitting in *my* house, eating *my* food, trying to freeze *me*, the owner, to death outside? Fury broke through my reason. I suddenly lifted my foot and kicked the door hard. “Kevin! I know you’re in there! Open this door!” “This is *my* house! What right do you have to lock me out?!” The loud bang startled the neighbors. Mrs. Davies, from across the hall, poked her head out, looking surprised. “Oh, isn’t that Olivia? Why are you shouting outside on Christmas?” A flurry of commotion erupted inside the house. Perhaps worried about looking bad, the door finally opened. Mom appeared in the doorway, her face grim. There wasn’t a hint of concern in her eyes, only reproach. “What are you shouting about! Are you trying to make sure everyone knows you’re back? You’re an adult, act like it! No manners!” I was stiff from the cold, my hand clutching my suitcase trembling. “Mom, why did the password change? Why didn’t you answer my call? What’s with Kevin’s post?” Mom’s gaze flickered, and she stepped aside. “Come in first, we’ll talk inside. It’s Christmas, don’t make a scene out here.” I dragged my heavy suitcase into the entryway. A rush of warm air hit me, mixed with the scent of seafood. But this warmth didn’t belong to me. In the living room, Kevin was sprawled on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, a crab leg still dangling from his mouth. Dad sat next to him, picking a succulent piece of crab meat and placing it on Kevin’s plate. On the dining table, there were indeed only three place settings. My usual spot was piled high with clutter and delivery boxes. When I entered, Dad didn’t even lift an eyelid. “Now that you’re back, shut your mouth. Don’t bring your bad vibes into the house.” I froze. “Dad, I’m part of this family too. Is me coming home for Christmas considered ‘bad vibes’?” Dad slammed his forks onto the table. “Look at all that snow on you! You’re getting water all over the floor! Can’t you even clean yourself up?” “And kicking the door the moment you arrive! What kind of behavior is that? Is this what you learned in the big city?” I looked down at myself. My puffer coat was soaked with melted snow, my shoes completely wet. Kevin, meanwhile, was wearing a brand-new Adidas tracksuit—the Christmas gift he’d cried and begged me for last month. Over three hundred dollars. I gritted my teeth and pushed my suitcase aside. “Where are my slippers?” The shoe cabinet was empty. My pink fluffy slippers were gone. Mom emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming plate of dumplings. “Oh, those old slippers were worn out. I threw them away a couple of days ago. Haven’t had time to buy new ones. Just use those shoe covers for now.” She pointed her chin towards a blue plastic shoe cover nearby. They were for the plumber. Kevin burst out laughing. “Mom, look at her in those blue shoe covers! Doesn’t she look like she just stepped out of surgery?” “Hahahaha, Olivia, your outfit is so unique. Want me to take a picture for Ins?” With that, he actually raised his phone to snap a photo of me. I rushed over and slapped his phone out of his hand. “Kevin! Haven’t you had enough?!” The phone landed on the carpet, unbroken. But Kevin reacted as if he’d suffered a massive injustice, letting out a wail. “Dad! Mom! Look at her! She hits me the moment she comes home! And she tried to smash my phone!” Dad abruptly stood up, grabbing the ashtray from the table and hurling it at me. “You damn brat! You’re out of control!”

The ashtray grazed my ear, smashing into the mirror in the entryway. With a *CRASH*, the mirror shattered, glass shards flying, one slicing my cheek. A sharp sting. I touched it, and my fingertips came away stained with blood. The living room fell silent. Dad seemed surprised that he’d actually hit me. He paused, then defiantly yelled again. “What are you looking at! It’s your own fault for not dodging! Useless!” Mom gasped and rushed over, not to check my wound, but to frantically pick up the phone from the floor. “Oh no, this is the latest model! It cost over a thousand dollars! If it’s broken, you couldn’t pay for it even if we sold you!” I stood amidst the shattered mess, watching this absurd scene unfold. My face was bleeding, and my heart was bleeding. “Mom, that’s my face. I’m hurt.” I pointed to the bloodstain on my cheek, my voice hoarse. Mom glanced up at me, then impatiently waved her hand. “What’s the big deal about a scratch? Just put a band-aid on it! Stop being so dramatic!” “If Kevin’s phone is broken, that’s real money! How much is your ugly face even worth?” Kevin got his phone back, checked it, and confirmed it wasn’t broken. Then, triumphantly, he made a mocking face at me. “Exactly, you’re already ugly, a broken face just means you can get plastic surgery. Maybe then someone will actually marry you.” “And if you hurt me, don’t you think my millions of followers will come for you?” Millions of followers? I scoffed. “Those followers of yours, aren’t they all from talking trash about having a ‘crazy older sister’?” “What? Are you done playing innocent now that you’re sucking blood from the source?” Kevin’s face changed. “You snooped through my phone? You invaded my privacy!” “You locked your sister out and posted it online for clout. Is that ‘privacy’?” I advanced toward the dining table, step by step. The plate of king crab, barely touched, its red shell gleamed mockingly under the light. I reached out and flipped the table over. “Since I’m a parasite, since I’m an outsider, then nobody gets to eat this meal!” A *CRASH* and clatter. Plates, forks, king crab, dumplings—everything crashed to the floor, sauce splattering everywhere. That lavish Christmas dinner instantly became trash. “Ah—! My king crab!” Kevin shrieked as if he’d been physically wounded. Mom screamed and rushed over, shoving me. “Are you insane! Olivia! Have you lost your mind?!” “That’s money! You wasteful brat! If you don’t want to eat, then leave! Why flip the table?!” Dad’s face was livid with rage. He grabbed the nearby solid wood chair, ready to throw it at me. “I’ll kill you today, you ungrateful daughter!” I dodged, and the chair slammed onto the floor with a dull thud. “Go ahead! If you have the guts, kill me!” My eyes red-rimmed, I stared at them intently. “Kill me, and see who pays your mortgage after this! Who buys Kevin designer brands! Who takes care of you in your old age!” That sentence seemed to hit their Achilles’ heel. Dad’s raised hand froze in mid-air. Mom also stopped her cursing, her eyes flickering. Kevin, however, scrambled up from the floor and pointed his finger at my nose. “Don’t threaten us with the mortgage! This house is in Dad’s name! What does it have to do with you?!” “Besides, you make so much money, what’s wrong with spending a little on family? You *owe* us!” “Mom and Dad raised you, isn’t it your duty to give back?” *I owe them?* From childhood, the best food went to Kevin, new clothes went to Kevin. I wore my cousin’s hand-me-downs and ate leftovers. I earned my college tuition by working part-time, and my living expenses from odd jobs. After graduation, I worked my butt off. As soon as my paycheck arrived each month, more than half of it went to them. For this house, I drained three years of savings and took out online loans just to scrape together the down payment. All because Mom said Kevin needed a house for his wedding, or his girlfriend’s family wouldn’t agree. To get my name added to the property deed, they made a huge scene, eventually forcing me to sign an agreement. The agreement stated that although the house was in Dad’s name, I would pay the mortgage. Once Kevin got married, half the house would be transferred to me. Now it was clear this was a complete and utter scam.

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